"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."
"Oh, it worked! Your dad programmed my cell....I can just find your numbers right on here and push one button, and it dials you right up!"
Pam smiled. Maybe this weekend wouldn't be so bad, after all. "Yeah, it's pretty cool, Mom. Cell phones, and all that."
"I know, I know, I'm about 10 years behind the technology. I'm an old lady, Pam, what can I say?"
"You're not an old lady. Where are you?"
"I have just gotten off the Scranton exit. I should be there in a few minutes. Are you ready to go?" *I'm five minutes from your office, and I'm coming up to have a look. So I hope you're not that close to being ready....*
"I have a few things to finish up here, then I'll be ready. Fifteen minutes? I'll meet you in the lobby."
Diane Beesly smiled. "Perfect." *You'll forgive me. You know I'm not that great at judging distance and travel time.*
*Thank God you won't have to see Jim. Or Karen. Or the awkwardness that is Jim and Karen, sitting right in front of me, day in and day out. Which would just give you more to worry about.*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jim tried not to listen.
He tried not to do a lot of things these days, and the trying had become easier, like second nature. He liked to think of it as a sophisticated, well-honed, now almost effortless system of ignoring. He ignored her when she was talking on the phone, especially when he knew it was personal, however rare those kind of phone calls were for her these days. He ignored the way her perfume smelled as she walked by: warm, quiet, feminine..... just like her. It annoyed him that he would come up with such adjectives for a woman's perfume, but he ignored the annoyance as well.
He ignored the fact that he catalogued what she wore every day, that he knew her wardroble probably better he knew Karen's. He ignored that he knew that she still ate yogurt but had branched out a little in flavors: she now sometimes ate those 'whips', which Jim had actually bought and tried (and hid under this other purchases in the cart). It was yogurt that was hardly yogurt, came in dessert flavors, and made him wonder how they could fill anyone's stomach, even the stomach of a woman.
He ignored the fact, the disturbing fact, that he had actually bought a yogurt labeled "whip" and flavored "Creamy Caramel" and eaten it, just to discover what new things she was doing these days.
He never stopped to consider how much effort went into the ignoring, or that he actually noticed and pondered these little things about her still and then, after the fact, had to find a way to excise this information from his head and heart.
And he never let himself go too far down the path of thinking about how he had to purposefully, mindfully attempt to remember the simplest things about Karen: what she was most likely to order in a restaurant, the shows she hated on TV, what she wore to bed, even. He could remember if he put his mind to do it, which he was trying to do with increasing frequency.
He thought that someday, it would work. Someday, he would automatically notice what Karen did, the littlest of things, and stop noticing what Pam was doing at every second of his horribly long, exhausting days.
He would not even try to imagine what would happen to him if he ever stopped trying to ignore.
So it was that he knew that Pam was on the phone with her mother; that he was straining to hear and yet, strenuously trying to appear nonchalant, uninterested; as though he was not listening, or not even hearing it at all. He could feel Karen's eyes back and forth between him and Pam, playing with her earring as she often did when she was suspicious (hey, I know that much. That's something, right?). He kept his eyes glued to his monitor, though there was nothing on it but a blank order document, while he strained to listen.
She was going away for the weekend with her mom. He had seen her bring in a small travel case along with her coat and purse that morning and quickly tuck in under her desk.
And that had been the focus of his day. Where was she going? And with whom?
He ignored the fact that he had been able to concentrate on little else for the rest of that long, unproductive day. Instead, for just a minute, he actually allowed the relief to wash over him. It was her mother, not a new love interest. Or an old one.
Then he tried to ignore the relief.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
She had managed to talk the security guard into letting her up unannounced. She shamefully used the fact that there was probably not a less suspicious-looking person in Pennsylvania: Diane Beesly with her string of pearls and her sleek, conservative hairstyle and her tan walking coat.
It hadn't been hard to convince him that she was Pam Beesly's mother and she would like to surprise her. So up the elevator, down the hall and, one pause with her hand on the door handle of Dunder Mifflin, into the office she went.
She did not have to fake her delight in seeing her daughter. Pam was facing her computer screen, phone in hand, concentrating on something on the monitor as she talked. She looked up--her mouth formed a perfect "O", her eyes opened in surprise-- and she went back to the phone. "Bill, I'm sorry. Can I call you back on Monday? I'll take another look at this and get back to you." She paused while Diane waited in front of the reception desk. "Yeah, that's fine. Thanks." She smiled as she hung up the phone and met her mother in front of her desk, grabbed her up in a hug. "Mom! I thought you said fifteen minutes; this was more like five!"
"I know, I guess I was closer than I thought." Diane smiled; the brightest, most genuine one she knew she had. *Buy it, Pam.*
*No way, Mom.* "Well, I'm glad you're here. It's been awhile....."
"HEY!" Michael came all but bounding out of his office. "Pam-a-lam-a-ding-dong, Pam-a-lama-Pam's Mom!" Pam wished she could give Michael the second try in real life that she often did for him in transferring his calls. "To what do we owe this great honor?"
"Thank you, Mr. Scott. I'm just popping in before Pam and I leave for the weekend."
"Please, it's Michael. That's fantasmic! Where are you going? A Hot Beesly Lady Convention?" Diane looked at Pam, eyes wide, speechless.
"Just to Philadelphia for the weekend, Michael." Pam spoke quickly, quietly. *Please don't tell him, Mom*
"Yes," Diane smiled as she continued,
*No Mom, please.....*
"Among other things, we're going to find Pam a new dress for the big wedding coming up next weekend."
*You have no idea that what is polite conversation in....ANY circle....is just fodder for Michael*.
"EX-CELL-ENT!!! Our little Pam has been working out, methinks....a halter would be nice. Or maybe a backless dress..............."
Jim got of his seat before most of the words had left Michael's mouth, getting to reception in a few long strides. "Hey, Michael, can I talk to you about something?"
Pam closed her eyes, briefly. And now, let's add Jim to this mix of general discomfort....
"Jim, you remember Pam's mom?" Michael was in his element, doing what Pam knew he would call "schmoozing", even though it was with mostly people he saw day in and day out. Diane turned to Jim, Jim turned to Diane and Pam's face turned, she thought, five different shades of pink.
But Jim seemed truly happy to see her, if a little self-conscious. "I sure do. Mrs. Beesly." He held out his hand with a smile.
How much does she know?
She took his hand. Her face was attractive and open and kind, with the same hint of warmth that Jim had always admired in Pam's face. But her eyes crinkled slightly, honing in. Watching.
She knows everything. Everything.
"It's good to see you again, Jim." They broke the handshake, and Jim found his hands immediately buried in his pockets. This was one of many habits he was trying to break, with some success, but not so much in Pam's presence. And not especially in front of Pam's mom.
And now Karen. "Hi, are you Pam's mom? Mrs. Beesly?" Karen has the right things to say. Karen can make this easier....or a thousand times worse. The palms in his pockets began to feel a little damp.
"Yes, and you must be......" She held out her hand, politely. But Diane Beesly already knew who she was, and she was already assessing, watching, feeling....knowing.
"Karen Fillipelli. I'm new here, well....fairly new. Jim and I came from Stamford together at the merger." Slick, thought Diane. Put-together. Beautiful, intelligent. And slightly cold.
"Yes, I heard about that." Diane smiled, but let those words hang in the air.
"Oh.......right." Karen replied. Diane continued smiling pleasantly while Karen pondered that comment; what it meant and how to go on from there. She usually didn't have to wrestle with what to say next. Jim and Michael and Pam stood by, somewhat at a loss as well, each thinking of how they were going to get out of this, but thinking a little too long. "Well, Pam has been so helpful to Jim and I through this transition. I mean, it's a transition for me, anyway" Karen finally said.
"Yes," said Diane. She tried to make her face look guileless, placid. "You're new here. But Jim was here before."
And that spurned everyone to action, talking at once:
"Mom, my suitcase is in my trunk, just let me......"
"Awk-waaard....."
"Mrs. Beesly, it was sure nice to see you again....."
"Yes, I know Jim was here before, but he and I................"
Pam and her mother were out the door in two minutes flat.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I still really love Pam's mom.
