After a few more rounds of Pictionary and one round of charades that degenerated into Jim, Adam, and a few of their cousins competing to see who could best impersonate Jim’s dad and Jim’s dad’s four brothers.  Everyone burst into a fit of laugher when Adam’s impeccable impersonation of his Uncle Greg was interrupted by Uncle Greg himself entering the room to inform them all that dinner was ready and on the table.  Adam had turned one hundred different shades of red and Pam was unable to keep herself from laughing even though Greg was still standing there looking at them all like they were insane, which Pam guessed maybe they sort of were.                

They all maneuvered themselves and crowded around the three different tables in the house, one adult table and one kids table crammed into the kitchen and another table full of adults in the dining room, and still there were three cousins who, in the end, had to eat standing up…which apparently was normal for a Halpert holiday because nobody even noticed except Pam, who quietly offered one of them her chair.  He laughed and shook his head, telling her it was each man for himself and good for her that she’d snagged a spot.  She laughed and shrugged, settling into her meal and enjoying the way that her plate was full of macaroni and cheese and meat loaf and broccoli casserole and all sorts of home-cooked warmth that she just wanted to wrap herself up in forever.                  

Everyone ate and everyone talked and every once in a while someone would switch tables because they were avoiding an argument…or because they were joining one, but to Pam’s delight the arguments in the Halpert family were strictly light-hearted and mostly involved laughter-filled comebacks and choruses of uninvited commentary.  The kids table was full of somewhat well-behaved children who all giggled and hummed their way through the meal, completely oblivious to their parents, and rosy-cheeked with Santa-filled anticipation.  Pam just let the atmosphere carry her along as she ate, and she quietly let herself enjoy the way that Jim had his hand securely settled on her knee for the entirety of the meal.                  

Then, just as everyone started to clear the plates, stacking everything as near to the sink as they possibly could, the doorbell rang out over the chatter and the clinking of silverware.  Pam settled next to Larissa at the sink, having accepted her role as dish-dryer, and Jim rubbed his hand warmly across her back as he announced that he would go answer the door.  Mrs. Halpert grinned at Pam as she set down a stack of plates and shook her head.                

“Larissa put you to work already?  I’m so glad I didn’t raise lazy children,” she mumbled sarcastically, and Pam laughed, pulling the dish towel off of her shoulder to accept the first plate that Larissa was handing her.                

“I don’t mind,” she promised, and Larissa nodded primly toward her mother.                

“See, mom?  How are Pam and I supposed to chat if I’m here slaving away and she’s all the way over in the living room?” she wondered, and Pam chuckled again as Mrs. Halpert rolled her eyes and muttered something in return, but the dry reply was barely audible over the sudden yelling coming from the foyer.  Pam frowned.  That was definitely Jim…and apparently he was extremely happy to see whoever had been at the door.  Mrs. Halpert moved to investigate the commotion, and Pam looked down as a damp and soapy hand landed on her forearm.                  

“Oh no…” Larissa breathed.  Pam looked up at her in concern.                

“What? Who is it?” she wondered, and Larissa’s face was genuinely concerned, which just tightened the coil of nervousness in Pam’s stomach.  “Larissa?” she wondered.  Jim’s sister just licked her lips and glanced in the direction of the front hall, pulling her hand away to continue washing the stacks of dishes on the counter top.  Finally, she spoke just loud enough that Pam could hear her.                

“Just don’t um…” she shook her head and sighed, handing over a salad bowl.  Pam dried it blindly, afraid to take her eyes off of Larissa’s face.  “It’s just Anne.,” Larissa finally explained, trying desperately to sound much more casual than she had before,  “She used to live next door, and she sort of um…” she sighed again.  “I had no idea she was coming.”                 

“Why do you look like you’re going to throw up all over the dishes?” Pam asked, her hands working tensely at the probably already dried bowl.  Larissa pursed her lips and glanced over at her.                

“You really like my brother, right?” she asked, and Pam frowned in response, unsure what that had to do with any of this.  She nodded and Larissa nodded back.  “And you know that he really likes you…right?  Like he wishes there were dragons he could go slay for you and everything?” she offered and Pam grinned lazily.                

“…Okaaay…” she drawled, unsure if dragons really played any kind of part in her relationship with Jim.  Larissa leveled her with her gaze, leaving her soapy hands suspended in the sink full of water.                

“Just don’t forget that,” Larissa instructed,  “You like him, he likes you, dragons, slaying, knights in shining armor…”  Pam sighed in aggrivation.                

“What does this have to do with anything?” she finally forced out, and Larissa grimaced almost comically.                

“Jim and Anne used to be…”                 

And in that pause, realization settled over Pam like a heavy kind of cloud.                

Larissa continued: “…Like…Jim and Anne.  You know?  Total inseparable best friends who became teenage lovers in some fairy tale bullshit type of…like…” she shrugged,  “Jim and Anne,” she finished…because apparently those three words said enough.  Pam felt herself get pale as she nodded and forced a smile and rolled her eyes and did all sorts of auto pilot things to assure Larissa that she knew and it was fine and this didn’t bother her at all.                  

Her insincere sounding promises were interrupted by Uncle Greg’s boisterous voice.                

“Thank God Anne’s here!  Anne, get in the kitchen and tell this young lady that she does not want a tongue ring,” he requested, pointing at his daughter who was sitting with crossed arms at the end of the kitchen table.  Pam turned to catch sight of this Anne, this Thank God Anne’s here!-Anne, who entered the room with arms full of packages and rosy cheeks and long blonde hair and a petite little perfect looking 5’2” frame.                  

Pam felt something inside of her tighten with dread.                

“Sweetie…” Anne began, resting a manicured hand over the shoulder of the sulking teenager, “you don’t want a tongue ring,” she promised, and moving to point at Greg with a jokingly intense finger and narrowing her gaze she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, “Please, don’t bring up my punk phase…it only upsets everyone.  And Merry Christmas,” she greeted, stooping down to plant a kiss on his cheek and flicking a shiny lock of straight hair out of her eyes.                  

Pam’s gaze shifted to Jim who was hovering in the doorway, his arms crossed, and a big goofy looking smile on his face, his eyes fixed on Anne as she made the rounds and handed out hugs and kisses to everyone in the room.  Pam was all too aware of the way that Jim’s eyes had that certain sparkle, and the way that every once in a while Anne would turn and glance over her shoulder at him…offering silent facial commentary that would make him chuckle or wink or raise his eyebrows in astonishment…and Pam felt her sinuses sort of tickle a little so that she had to rub at her eyes to make sure they were dry.                 

Pam liked Jim, she reminded herself firmly, and Jim liked Pam, and there were dragons and slaying and knights in shining armor…                

And Jim and Anne were just…like…Jim and Anne.                

And Pam kind of wanted to crawl in a hole and die.