It should have been just another Friday afternoon in the office, just another afternoon that Pam hurried through what little paperwork she had to finish up before she could excuse herself for the day. It should have been another Friday evening spent quietly at home, watching TV or painting or talking to her mother on the phone. It should have been another Friday night spent attempting to avoid replaying in her head conversations just like the one playing out in front of her at that very moment:
"So do you want to see it or not." Karen asked. Pam thought that it should be a question, but had noticed that Karen asked a lot of questions that sounded liked they ended with periods, not question marks.
"I don't know," Jim muttered quietly. "Friday night crowds....." Pam could tell he was smiling, but also serious. She also knew that Karen caught the smile, but not the honesty in Jim's words.
"Oh my God, you're like, agoraphobic." Karen laughed.
Jim played along, "Agoraphobic..." Pam knew the look he had on his face, though she could not see it from reception; the look that said that he understood that this was joking, but also not joking. She knew quite a few of his looks, though she missed seeing them these days, since he faced away from her.
"Yeah," Karen was chuckling.
"Really?"
Karen continued, laughingly, "You would rather sit on your couch and watch a Phillies game than go out to a movie with your Awesome Girlfriend." Pam looked up, straining to hear Jim's reply and wishing, simultaneously, not to hear it. It was banter, the very same thing she and Jim used to do every Friday before closing time, exchanging plans for the weekend and trying to find a way to each let the other know that they each wished they could go home, together. And do anything, or nothing, but just be together.
Jim started to stand. "Absolutely correct." Pam understood the truth in that, and she knew that Jim was trying to reveal the truth of it to Karen, and that he was hoping that she would latch onto that truth. But she didn't, of course.
Kevin walked by reception, and Jim said goodbye to him as Karen continued. "So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to suck it up, and we're going to go to dinner, and then we're going to go to a movie..." Pam recognized that tone in her voice, the tone she covered with laughter but let on that she really meant every word; that there was no negotiating the directive. Pam was starting to wonder if maybe that was one of the attributes about loving Karen that was easier for Jim than loving her: Karen's directness, and how easy it was to just follow, to just go along.
The glass door to Dunder-Mifflin opened, and Pam knew just from the way he threw the door open what was going to happen, what he was here for. It happened in mere seconds: Roy opened the door, the air around him fuming, full of rage and purpose. Pam popped out of her seat, automatically going to placate him because old habits take a long time to disengage themselves from the head and heart. Pam met him just about in front of Jim's desk but Roy's vision was full of vitriol and he was not there for Pam, not this time. Jim shoved Karen out of his way and could see Pam approaching but didn't know what she was about to do; didn't know that he would spend many, many hours of the next week trying to understand how and why he didn't see it coming. Just as Roy cocked his fist Pam stepped in front of him, just as he put all of his 260 pounds behind the force of it, Pam stepped in front and took that punch to her left temple.
The doctors said it wasn't just the punch that did it, but the fact that she hit the other side of her head on Jim's desk as she fell.
The doctors said a lot of things that week. And Jim was about to have some of the horrible, irrevocable words that doctors can say written forever on his heart.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Those who were there had the same wide-eyed gaze, the same fixation on how normal things were right up until that very moment that all witnesses of violence seem to exhibit. There was the recounting of detail that has absolutely no bearing on what really happened, on how the events of those 11 seconds become so significant in the lives of those involved:
Kevin: "I was halfway to my car, I passed Roy in the hallway and said 'have a good weekend, man'. I shoulda seen that he looked mad, but I didn't pay attention...."
Dwight: "I had my pepper spray but the nozzle misfired. One second later I could have stopped the attack." He paused. "I should have used my nunchucks."
Angela: "I was putting away my files when it happened, thank God I was standing at my desk so I could pick up the phone and dial 911. God only knows how long it would have taken anyone else to figure that out."
Michael: "I was in my office, shutting down my computer and closing my blinds for the day. I always close my blinds, it's just become habit. Since Jan."
Creed: "I tackled Roy to the ground. Martial arts training. I held him there until the cops arrived. He was crying." He paused. "When men like Roy cry, they really cry. I got pretty damp."
And a couple of interviews that tell the story of what happened, that give meaning and life to those frantic, desperate moments:
Phyllis: "After Creed got a hold of Roy, I was the only one that went right to her. I didn't care about the blood. I thought maybe she could hear me, maybe she was afraid. So I talked to her until the ambulance arrived."
Karen: "I thought Pam might not make it out of that office alive, until the ambulance came and they started securing her on the gurney, and they told us that she would probably at least survive the trip to the hospital, if we wanted to follow along." She paused, looked down at her hands. "After I knew that, I started watching Jim cave in on himself." She stopped again, caught her breath. "I started watching him go away. From me....." She paused again. "And I think, even from himself."
Author's Chapter Notes:
Much of this story is based on Pam's talking head in "Michael's Birthday".
I still do not own The Office, Jim, Pam or anything even remotely related to TV. No copyright infringement is intended. My new laptop is ready to be wrapped though, so I'm still purging this one of stories.
I still do not own The Office, Jim, Pam or anything even remotely related to TV. No copyright infringement is intended. My new laptop is ready to be wrapped though, so I'm still purging this one of stories.
