Jim leaned back in his chair stretching his arms behind his head, and looked at the clock on his computer screen. 2:45. Shoot. Those faxes needed to be out by 3:00.
He stood up and walked behind reception to the fax machine. This was usually his favorite time of day as it was a free opportunity to talk to Pam, and still pretend to be working at the same time. Over the past few months they had devised ways of appearing to be working while really just chatting or playing pranks on Dwight, but while doing his faxing, he legitimately had to be standing behind her desk to make sure there wasn’t a glitch and went through properly. Or so he told himself. Never mind the fact that he could just hand them off to her to fax for him.
Today though, she was in a meeting with Michael which usually meant hours of Pam listening to Michael ramble on about his latest Jan problem. Last week, she had spent three hours listening to Michael’s favorite love songs that he was contemplating putting on a mixed CD for Jan. By the end of it she had been ready to give herself a lobotomy with her own pen. This time, Jim had suggested that they bet on the number of times that Michael would say “that’s what she said” throughout the course of the meeting to give Pam something to do. Jim thought Pam highly underestimated Michael’s innuendo abilities with her meager guess of eleven throughout the course of the entire meeting.
Unfortunately her impromptu meeting with Michael left him alone to do his faxes. To pass the time, he began to glance around her desk area. He had spent hours and hours back here in the past few months and yet he hadn’t been paying much attention to the various pictures, post-it notes, random sketches and Dunder Mifflin supplies strewn about her desk; with good reason (Pam herself was kind of distracting). But today, with nothing else to do, he looked a little more closely. There was a photo of Pam and her parents taped to the underside of the ledge on her desk, a few notes reminding her of various deadlines to constantly hound Michael about, random sketches she had drawn throughout the week but hadn’t taken home yet, her pink coffee cup surrounded by a few other random trinkets…and then he saw he and stopped short. Taped to the underside of the ledge was a piece of Dunder Mifflin stationary with a cartoon sketch drawing on it. He knew that sketch well. He had drawn it.
He stood there staring for a minute regaling in the fact that she had actually kept his silly little cartoon of her answering the phone at reception. He had used the block letters of “Dunder Mifflin”, followed them by his own handwritten words “this is Pam”. On the bottom left-hand corner he had written “From: Jim”. He remembered so clearly the day that he had drawn this for her. It had been about three years ago now. He couldn’t believe she had kept it that long. And taped to her desk none-the-less, though he doubted it had been up there the whole time. He would be sure to ask her later.
As he turned back to the fax machine, he thought back to the day he had exhibited his fantastically lousy drawing skills in order to get a laugh out of her. He smiled, shaking his head at the quizzical look she had given him when she found it on her desk that day, and then the radiant smile that had followed that look when he had shrugged his shoulders as if to say: “I guess we can’t all be artists”.
****
He had been ridiculously bored that day. So bored that he had already been up to reception three times before 10:00am. He had noticed that Pam seemed unhappy, and figured it had something to do with Roy. He had tried to make her laugh by thinking up possible pranks on Dwight, and with his impressions of their coworkers, but he was only able to get small chuckle out of her. Finally, around 10:30 on his fourth trip up to her desk, purportedly for some jelly beans, he asked “So what’s up”
“What do you mean?” she responded, not looking up from her computer screen.
“You seem, well, I hate to put it this way,” he said, lowering his voice, “but you’re starting to act a little like Stanley”
At this she looked up at him and smiled slightly. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to work on some crossword puzzles at lunch”
He smiled back at her, but she just looked back down at her computer.
“Really, what’s up?”
He could see her determining if she would tell him what was bothering her, finally she said: “It’s really nothing, I’m just…” she paused and sighed.
Jim waited, knowing that the rest of the story was coming.
“…it’s just, it’s stupid really,” she started and shook her head, “I just feel like I’m never going to be able to do what I want to do. I feel like I’m never going to be an artist.” She finished feebly, as if ashamed that she had spoken the words aloud.
Jim paused before he responded, “Why? Because you’re working here? You’ve got plenty of time to become an artist Pam.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said unconvincingly, “I just feel like I’m never going to get there sometimes”
Jim thought to himself that this probably had something to do with Roy, but he didn’t want to bring that up. Instead he grabbed two pencils and the Dunder Mifflin post-it note pad sitting on Pam’s desk, saying “Hey, come on” nodding toward the break room. She looked at him quizzically and he responded teasingly: “The entire fate of Dunder Mifflin stationary rests on your shoulders Pam, are you really going to mess with that kind of responsibility?”
She chuckled and got up, following him into the break room where they sat at one of the circular tables.
In his best game show host accent he began, “Miss Pamela Beesly, welcome to the first annual Dunder Mifflin Draw-Off,” he ignored the roll of her eyes, “Today, you will be matching your skills of artistic sensibility against those of one of your esteemed coworkers. You will be given five minutes to draw something which conveys your artistic nature on this official Dunder Mifflin notepad. At the end of the draw-off match, a completely unbiased and impartial judge will decide who has the most artistic quality and promise. And now, I would like to introduce your opponent, Mr. Jim Halpert.” Jim proceeded to shake his fists in the air to his own mock cheering. The grin on Pam’s face egged him on even further. “Miss Beesly, are you ready to begin your sketch?”
“Absolutely I am” Pam responded staring Jim boldly in the eye.
“Fantastic,” he responded as he tore off two pieces off the notepad, “On your mark, get set, and go!” He frantically began scribbling all over his own paper, and looked up when he heard her laughter.
“Nice Halpert.”
“Well you best get drawing Beesly or I might just beat you” he taunted back, smiling.
She laughed and then bent down to her paper and began drawing. Jim continued his scribbling, while still watching her draw. He loved watching her draw. He had seen her sketch a few things at her desk, and she always had such a deep look of concentration that he never saw her display doing anything but sketching. He knew she was an artist at heart because her passion was clearly apparent on her face when she drew. He found himself having to pull his eyes away from her and looking at his own paper which was completely covered in black scribbles. He erased the markings and began his own sketch. A few minutes passed in silence, both of them huddled over their respective papers.
Jim finally broke the silence, having finished his own sketch saying “Ladies and Gentleman, this is your one minute warning. I repeat, this is your one minute warning” to which he heard Pam make an aggravated noise. He wasn’t really timing her; he figured he would wait until she was done. Eventually she looked up at him with a smile on her face. She was apparently satisfied with her finished product.
“Miss Beesly, will you please present your drawing to the judge for evaluation,” he said, and she slid the paper across the table. He looked down and saw the jellybean container from her desk, with a hand, apparently his own, reaching toward the jellybeans within. He chuckled softly and looked up at her to find her smiling at him fully now. He loved moments like this, when she looked at him without reservation. Those moments when he thought he could see in her eyes what he had wanted so long to see. That maybe, just maybe she felt about him at least a little the same way he felt about her.
“The judges give this drawing a 10…out of 10” Jim said confidently.
Pam laughed, “nope, not biased at all,” she paused for a minute then said, “I want to see yours.”
Jim smiled, somewhat embarrassed for some reason, “Nah, it’s nothing special…” but she quickly snatched the paper before he could grab it off the table.
She looked down at the picture in her hands, and her face changed. A soft smile played at the corners of her mouth, and she looked at the picture with a look of utter contentment. Then she broke into a laugh, shaking her head. She finally raised her eyes to his. Jim found himself trying to suppress all he knew was probably apparent in his own eyes, knowing she could probably see through his defenses anyway.
“Nice.” She said softly.
“Yeah,” he said lowering his eyes, “but the judges only gave me a 2,” he said with mock disappointment in his voice.
“Well, I give it a 10” Pam responded smiling. Jim looked up at her chuckling lightly.
“Well thanks for the vote of confidence, but personally I think Dwight might be more handing with the sketchpad than I am” Jim said and Pam smiled in return. As much as Jim wanted this moment to last much longer, he knew they had to get back to work, and that if he looked at her any longer he might just lose it and tell her things that he knew she wouldn’t be able to handle. So instead, he rose from his chair saying, “we should probably get back”.
“Yeah,” she responded, rising from her own chair, “Hey thanks Jim” she said smiling at him.
“Sure thing” he said, walking toward the door.
She followed him back to into the office stopping at his desk saying: “Do you mind if I keep this?”
“Um, well I’d prefer my horrible drawing skills never be known to the world, but if you really want it, you’re welcome to it”
She laughed at this, “Yeah, and I’ll be sure to tell everyone that you drew it too, I mean, you’ve gotta really get your name out there Halpert.”
Jim pursed his lips into a mock grimace as she laughed, “Awesome. Thanks Beesly.”
****
Jim had never thought that he’d see that drawing again, but now he was staring at it waiting for the stupid fax machine to finish. He couldn’t believe she had kept it. It was just one of those stupid things he had done to try to make her laugh. It had worked, and apparently she had appreciated it more than he thought.
“Hey,” he was startled out of his reverie by her voice.
She had returned from her meeting and was standing beside him smiling up at him, with a questioning look on her face.
“You kept it” he said, pointing to the sketch taped up on the side of her desk.
“Of course I did” she said simply, “I mean, someday when you’re a famous artist, I want to have that to prove that you once sketched my portrait” she said teasingly.
“Oh yeah, of course. I mean maybe one day you can sell it on Ebay for millions.” He smiled at her. Her eyes met his, and in that moment he knew that she had kept it because of what it meant to her; what he meant to her. He saw it all there in her eyes, no longer hidden behind guilt or fear. It was these moments of clarity and pure openness between them that he loved the best.
She lowered her eyes to the picture commenting absently, “I didn’t always have it on my desk. Last year I had it at home, on the mirror over my dresser,” she paused and he refrained from speaking, hoping she’d say more. “I guess it was kind of a hope thing; that I might actually be an artist someday,” she paused, her eyes returning to his, “and that maybe you’d come back.” A small smile was on her face, a confident, almost bold look in her eye.
He knew he couldn’t express with words his own thoughts, so he returned her smile and nodded slightly. He heard the fax machine beeping behind him, and he turned to collect his papers.
“So Halpert,” she said, her voice light, “you owe me a bag of chips. Michael managed to say ‘that’s what she said’ twelve times in half an hour.”
Jim grunted, “Shoot, I thought he’d definitely get in at least 15 times in a half an hour.”
“Pay up Halpert.”
“French Onion?”
“I can’t believe you even have to ask” Pam smiled at him warmly and he strode toward the break room to retrieve her prize.
Story Notes:
This is just a short little piece I've been working on for a while that I'm finally just gonna put up here so I can call it done. It's not my favorite idea I've got swimming around in my head right now, but here it is anyway.
If you wondering what the picture in question looks like it can be found at:
http://www.blogsmithmedia.com/www.tvsquad.com/media/2006/10/jims-artwork001.jpg
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
If you wondering what the picture in question looks like it can be found at:
http://www.blogsmithmedia.com/www.tvsquad.com/media/2006/10/jims-artwork001.jpg
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! I enjoy reviews!
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