You touched me and then you ran
And left some sad Peter Pan all alone and awkward
But a transformation, I swear it will occur
Vic Chesnutt
When Jim stepped into the elevator, on the morning of his last Monday at Dunder-Mifflin Scranton, he was feeling uptight, weary and slightly hungover. But most of all, Jim was angry, angrier than he remembered ever feeling.
He’d replayed the events of the previous week in his head so many times that a vision of Pam, pale and horrified, was flashing in front of his eyes wherever he looked. The rush of pure happiness he had felt during their brief kiss was so tainted by her admission that she would to marry Roy anyway that the memory turned his stomach. Years of hoping and yearning and hurting and it all came down to this: there had never been a choice to make. She hadn’t hesitated. She hadn’t needed to think twice.
The idea of facing her that day, of watching her pretend that everything was fine, reaffirming her unconditional friendship or some other ridiculous thing women said to men when they weren’t quite done breaking their hearts made him want to punch the wall.
As the elevator doors opened in front of him, Jim braced himself. Five days. Five short, insignificant days.
“Hey,” he greeted coolly as he walked past the reception desk, not quite meeting Pam’s eyes.
***
From: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 9:06:04
Subject: About you know what
Jim,
I’ve given a lot of thought to what you said the other night and I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t have to change anything between us. You’re my best friend, you know that. I never meant to hurt your feelings in any way. I guess what I’m trying to say is that things don’t have to be awkward or weird between us.
You’ll find a can of grape soda in your top drawer, consider it a peace offering.
You friend always,
Pam
***
From: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 9:22:54
Subject: Re: About you know what
Okay. Thanks for the soda.
***
From: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jan Levinson j.levinson@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 9:29:06
Subject: Transfer arrangements
Jan,
Thank you again for your help. I gave Josh a call early this morning and faxed the paperwork back to you. I’ve also arranged for a temporary accommodation so I’ll be able to start next Monday as I hoped. I’m about to meet with Michael, so you’ll probably get a call from him later this morning.
I can’t wait to join the Stamford branch.
Sincerely,
Jim Halpert
***
From: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Toby Flenderson t.flenderson@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 9:36:01
Subject: Whenever you’re ready
Let’s get this over with.
***
“I can’t believe you Jim. I can’t believe you would do that to me.”
“Well, I don’t believe I’m doing anything to you, Michael.”
“Right, I think there’s no need to turn this into a personal issue –”
“Oh, shut it, Toby. No one cares what you think. Why is he even here?” Michael whined, turning his accusatory glare back to Jim.
“I’m your HR representatives, Michael.”
“Why, Jim? After everything I’ve done... I welcomed you with loving arms. I taught you everything I know!”
“And I’m grateful for that, Michael, believe me, I am. I’m not denying any of your –valuable teaching,” Jim paused to clear his throat. “I’m only seizing a career opportunity.”
“Seizing a –no, that’s just wrong. This place, these people, they’re you’re family, Jim. You’re betraying your family to run away and join some third degree cousins who hate the family’s guts!”
“Okay,” Jim said as patiently as he could, “let’s look at it this way. Although I love this family very much, I think it’s time for me to open my own wings to fly, and make new experiences for myself. It doesn’t change anything to the respect and consideration I have for my… father,” Jim added, wincing at his own disturbing phrasing.
“I hope you can fly back, Jim,” Michael said shakily, letting out a theatrical sigh. “I really hope that when those Stamford home-breakers are done messing with your head, you’ll find your way back home.”
“Err, thanks, I guess,” Jim muttered, squirming in his seat.
“Listen, Michael,” Toby started, his tone diplomatic, “I was just on the phone with Jan Levinson and given the current situation of this branch and the ongoing downsizing rumors, we agreed that it would be best for everyone if Jim’s transfer remained confidential until Friday. He’ll have ample time to prepare for his clients reassignment and –”
“What the hell, Jim?” Michael screeched in horror. “You’ve been plotting this with Jan and Toby? How long has this been going on? How long has he known?” he asked, shaking an angry finger in Toby’s direction.
“I only made the decision on Friday night, Michael. No one here knew until this morning.”
“I can’t believe you, Jim,” Michael said again, shaking his head. “Now I know how Rufus must have felt.”
“Hum, I believe you mean Brutus. Actually, Julius Caesar was murdered by Brutus and not the other way around,” Jim went on before he caught on Michael’s devastated expression. “Not that it matters in any way,” he added weakly.
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. I guess you never really know people until they stab you in the back and laugh about it with the office’s idiot.”
“Michael–”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Right,” Jim acknowledged as he rose to his feet, sensing it wasn’t the best time to remind Michael how well he had kept the last secret he had trusted him with.
“That went well,” Jim muttered to himself. As he walked back to his desk, he tried his best to not to look up toward the reception desk, and spent the rest of the morning on the phone, mostly with fictional interlocutors, his eyes locked on the computer screen.
***
From: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 1:09:43
Subject: Something’s up
Hey,
So, you’re having lunch outside now? You should have told me, I could really use a break. Michael decided he wouldn’t take any more calls today and for once, people are actually trying to reach him.
Speaking of Michael, do you have any idea what’s wrong with him? He’s been really cranky ever since your meeting this morning. He spent almost half an hour on the phone with Jan from corporate, too. That can’t be good, right?
He was also very adamant that I should go and buy him a Caesar’s salad for lunch, whatever that means. Michael? A salad? I think he mumbled something about an evil cousin but I couldn’t get him to elaborate. Seriously, something’s up with him. Any theories?
Pam
***
From the moment Pam stepped inside, the break room became awfully quiet, even though she could have sworn Phyllis, Meredith and Stanley were in the middle of an animated conversation moments before. As she waited by the microwave for her lunch to warm up, she could feel three pair of eyes staring at the back of her head. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, and it didn’t help to diffuse anxiety she had been feeling from the moment she’d seen Toby and Jim entering Michael’s office.
“What’s up?” she asked, suddenly aware that they were all observing her sideways, careful not to meet her eyes.
“We’re really sorry, Pam,” Meredith commiserated. “It must be tough for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you hear the news about Jim?” Phyllis inquired, exchanging a knowing look with Meredith.
“What about him?” Pam asked, as she felt the heavy knots of worry that had been building in her stomach coming to life.
“Apparently, he’s transferring to the Stamford branch. Michael’s beside himself. Oscar found him locked in the men’s room before lunch, moaning about betrayal and Rome. It didn’t make much sense –you know Michael– but Oscar’s pretty sure it was all about Jim. Why else would he have met with Toby and Michael this morning?”
“No,” Pam shook her head vehemently. “No, that’s not like him. He would have mentioned that to –someone. It’s just another rumor.”
But the nagging voice she had desperately tried to smother for hours wouldn’t stay silent anymore. Of course it was true. Jim was leaving, and he hadn’t even told her. In fact, he hadn’t told her anything that day. He had blatantly ignored her timid attempts to make things right between them, and now he was about to run away. God knew how long he had been planning to.
Pam stared at her tepid lasagna as if it was the most appalling thing she had ever seen.
“I’m, uh…This doesn’t taste so good,” she said and wrinkled her nose before rising up to throw her untouched meal in the trash. “The phone’s ringing,” she blurted out and rushed out of the room, trying not to notice the pointed looks and discreet nods Phyllis and Meredith were exchanging behind her back.
***
From: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 1:28:29
Subject: This morning
What was your meeting with Michael and Toby about?
***
When he came back from his lunch break, which had consisted of a tasteless sandwich quickly swallowed over the steering wheel of his car and a fair amount of staring idly at the dashboard, Jim found his deskmate inordinately cheerful. Dwight was watching him fixedly with a triumphant grin, which could only mean that everyone in the office knew about his departure.
Jim wasn’t surprised in the least.
Gluing his eyes back to the screen, Jim resumed pretending to be working. He was only too aware of Pam’s eyes scrutinizing the right side of his face. It was both distracting and aggravating, like a bug flying by his ear when he was trying to fall asleep.
***
From: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 2:14:07
Subject: Earth to Jim
You’re surprisingly busy today.
***
From: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 3:16:25
Subject: The truth
What the hell, Jim? Why won’t you answer my emails?
There are rumors about you flying around the office. Phyllis told me you were transferring to Stamford. It’s not true, right?
Just tell me what’s going on.
Please.
***
From: Pam Beesly p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert j.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 4:02:46
Subject: Come on
Look, this is just ridiculous. I’m seating about 12ft to your right. You can’t ignore me forever.
***
Once more, Jim clicked the ‘reply’ button and watched the cursor blink for a minute. He could either snap at her like he so desperately wanted to, or mimic Pam’s trademark avoidant behavior. He could spend their last few days pretending, like he had for so long, or indulge his newfound destructive instincts. Neither option seemed particularly appealing.
He decided to ignore the incoming mail alerts for the rest of the day and started typing random angry words in a blank Word file.
He was out the door by 5:01.
*****
