Pam fingers the necklace at her throat. She feels the cool, smooth metal between her fingertips and twists it so it’s edges cut into the soft pads of her fingers. She relishes the feeling. It brings her a sense of calm and familiarity. The necklace grounds her. Whenever she gets nervous or anxious or scared, she plays with it. It finds its way into her fingertips when she’s happy or excited or bored. Sometimes she finds herself playing with it without even realizing she’s doing it. It’s a part of her in a way nothing else has ever been. On the rare occasions that she takes it off and forgets to put it back on, she feels lost. It’s as though she’s left a part of herself behind. Her fingers make the journey to her throat and come up empty all day long until she can get home and put the necklace back where it belongs.
She smiles, remembering the day she got it.
***
She walks into the office, a feeling of dread falling over her as she does. As she unbuttons her coat she thinks of all of the places she would rather be spending her birthday.
Not one of them puts her within a ten mile radius of this place.
She glances at Michael’s office, glad that he hasn’t gotten there yet. She thinks of putting up with him for the next eight hours, of ringing phones and monotony and sameness. A sense of dread and desperation overcomes her and she tries to think of an illness that would get her out of work. She thinks it needs to be severe, yet have no visible symptoms.
She needs Jim’s expertise. Her gaze lands on his desk and she notices his dark, familiar coat already hanging off the back of his chair.
She frowns a little, thinking how strange it is for someone to be there before her, most of all Jim. He never spends more time there than is absolutely necessary.
Glancing around but not finding him, she makes her way to her desk and hangs up her coat. She’s sitting down and reaching for her phone to check the messages before she sees it, sitting atop a note scrawled in familiar handwriting.
Beesly -
I hope you have a birthday as great as you are.
- Jim
She smiles to herself and unties the pink, curly bow wrapped around the box, making a mental note to mock him for it later. She lifts the lid of the cream colored box and smiles softly when she sees the necklace resting on the tufts of soft, white cotton. She runs a fingertip over the flat, gold shape and gently lifts it from it’s bed.
She places it around her neck and knows it will always be there.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Jim slings the bag over his shoulder and smiles at the familiar, comforting weight of it against his leg. He runs his hand over the worn material and softly pulls his lower lip through his teeth at the memory of that Christmas party a few years ago. Pam had been his Secret Santa and had surprised him with what would soon become one of his favorite possessions.
***
It had started as playful teasing, but had soon grown annoying. Even when he factors in how great it is to talk to her, to laugh and joke around with her, he finds himself clenching his jaw a little every time she brings it up.
He doesn’t know why. It’s not like he’s particularly attached to the backpack.
And it is very worn-out and faded. And dirty in that way that never becomes clean, no matter how much you scrub.Not that he’d done much scrubbing.
But it’s still his backpack. And he needs it. How else is he supposed to get his work stuff to and from home?
Put it in a plastic grocery bag?
Carry it, papers flying everywhere?
It’s not like he doesn’t know it’s in bad shape. He knows it needs to be replaced.
He just can’t do it.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just he can’t. Really can’t. He just can’t find anything he likes that seem right. And he’s looked. A lot. It’s one of the most frustrating things in his life right now.
He thinks that might be why it bothers him so much that she makes fun of him for it. She knows he’s having trouble replacing it and she still brings it up. All. The. Time.
That’s why today, when she made fun of it, all he could manage was a short laugh and a roll of his eyes. Then he’d walked away, pouting like a little boy, and hasn’t spoken to her through the entire Christmas party.
“Okay people..” Dwight calls, causing Jim to groan in dread and earning himself a glare from Angela. “It’s time for the Secret Santa portion of the party. Get your presents and get in a circle. Let’s move it.”
Jim chooses a seat a few feet away from where Pam is sitting, earning a hurt glance. She doesn’t know why he’s in such a bad mood.
Jim isn’t paying attention as they go around the circle, saying which coworker they picked and handing out their gifts. He looks up in surprise when Pam says his name.
She doesn’t get up to give him the bright green bag, as most everyone else has done with their gifts. She just passes it to Meredith who passes it to Toby who passes it to him.
He notices the hand-drawn card and feels like an ass.
He sifts through the glittery red and green tissue paper until his hand connects with something long and textured. He grasps it firmly and pulls out what turns out to be the strap of a messenger-style bag.
It’s perfect. The size. The color. The style. It’s exactly what he needs, exactly what he’s been looking for but unable to find.
He turns to Pam, his smile wide on his face.
“Thanks, Pam. It’s perfect.” His voice is genuine and she smiles for the first time since the party started.
