May

On the way back from New York, he hoped maybe things would be easy. Maybe the hard part was all behind them. It didn't quite turn out that way. When you're gone for a year, you can't always find yourself right away.

The first few dates were a little strange, surreal. He was guarded with her, and she responded by being guarded back. There were kisses, kind words, warmth, but awkward pauses and lots of uncertainty as well. Jim found himself swinging wildly between the dull numbness of the past year and wild fits of emotions that he tried to suppress, fearing that he couldn’t control them.

Pam didn’t quite know what to think about the hot and cold version of Jim. It was at least an improvement, though, over the always-cold Jim Her intuition told her that all would be well, though, that he just needed some time. She surprised herself, how she could take things in stride these days. And there were times when he seemed like his old self, and moments when he looked at her in a way that made her sure what his feelings were, even if the next day he might seem aloof. And so she was patient.

When she had imagined him as a boyfriend, though, she had imagined him as steady, reliable, solid. She imagined him being the way he was as a friend to her for so long. He wasn’t quite there right now. She never quite knew what to expect from him, never knew which Jim would be with her from one moment to the next.

And so, after they kissed at her doorstep, and she saw him looking at her with wild eyes and hunger, as much as she wanted to invite him in, she let him walk back to his car. To her frustration, it didn’t feel right yet. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he would go cold on her right afterwards, and she definitely did not want the first time to be like that.

Jim drove home after dropping her off, trying to make sense of what was going on. What the hell was with him? Half the time he felt like he was made of stone, and half the time he felt more emotion than he knew what to do with. It reminded him vaguely of being a teenager. During dinner tonight he had felt flat, tired, almost disinterested. Then on the way home, she took his hand and he felt his heart almost pounding through his chest and was almost overcome with love, regret, fear, gratitude.

It was only minutes ago that they had parted with a kiss that he desperately hoped and feared would lead to more. It hadn't, and he tried to console himself that it would surely happen soon. He had to hear her voice again. He called her cell as he drove home.

“Miss me already?”

“Pam, I’m…I want you to know…I mean…” He was so full of emotion he literally couldn’t speak.

“Jim. It’s okay. Just relax. Get yourself home, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry; I know I’m being weird lately. I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay, Jim, really. Listen. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to disappear. Just take your time. It’s okay.”

“Okay. I just…I really want this, Pam.”

“Me too, Jim. We’ll get there.”

June

On the first weekend in June, they went for a hike. It was a compromise after Jim tried and failed to sell Pam on the joys of mountain biking. The weather was as perfect as Scranton weather ever gets. They made their way along a trail on Montage Mountain, talking easily, needling each other. He didn’t know what it was, but as the day went on, Jim felt himself relax, felt his confidence coming back. After a few hours, they stopped near a creek to sit for a bit and have some water.

They sat on a rock in a sunny clearing in companionable silence. She could feel Jim’s eyes on her, and when she turned to look at him she saw on his face not the blank indifference or anxious passion she had been seeing, but warmth, confidence, affection.

“Hey,” she simply said, smiling.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?”

She paused for a moment. “Absolutely it is.”

She could feel the shift in him. The expression in his face, the way he carried himself and talked the rest of the day, told her that he was back, recovered, and that they could really move forward. And so they did.

The first time was that night. It was not a fairy tale. It was awkward and surreal and over quickly. The second time, a few hours later, was better though, and the third, the next morning, better still. The numbers mounted quickly after that.

July

The shadows of their past still intruded on them sometimes. Jim had wanted a hundred times to tell her again that he loved her, but whenever he would start to summon the words, those shadows would come up, and he would hold back. His mind would go back to the parking lot and he would still feel the echoes of the pain from that night. Or, he would imagine telling her and then seeing her look uncomfortable and scrambling for some graceful way to avoid saying it back. And if that happened, he wasn’t sure he could recover. It was always easier to hold the words back and smile at her, or kiss her. Wait until next time.

It was the same for her. She did love him, and she knew she should be the one to say it first this time. She owed him that. As brave as she was, though, she couldn’t force the words out. She would start to, and then decide the timing wasn’t quite right. She should make it special, an epic romantic moment. Or at least that was what she told herself as an excuse for why she hadn’t told him yet.

He woke up in her bed Saturday morning, contented and spent from the night before. She slept soundly next to him on her side, facing him, her peaceful face just a few inches away. After staring at her for a few minutes, he reluctantly and carefully pulled himself out of bed. He was supposed to meet some guys to play basketball, and he had bailed on them last week. After he had dressed, he gently touched her shoulder.

“Pam. I gotta go. Basketball. I’ll see ya tonight.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily at him.

“Okay. Bye. I love you.”

Jim was stuck silent. He stood over her bed, motionless, not sure how to react.

Pam’s sleepy brain finally caught up with what she said. For a brief moment, she felt an almost panicked embarrassment, but when she saw him standing over her, she remembered she did love him and it was time for him to know that. She flashed a rumpled, sleepy smile, and sat up.

“I do, Jim. I love you. I really really love you.

He stood looking at her, dumbstruck goofy grin on his face. She was rumpled, sleepy eyes, messy haired, and smiling at him sweetly.

“Well, have fun playing. I’m gonna go back to sleep for a little while,” she said teasingly. She made a show out of lying back down and closing her eyes.

She was still smiling, though, and she was not surprised when she felt him get back in bed and pull himself close to her.

“Pam, I love you too. I’ve never stopped.”

She opened her eyes and accepted his kiss, morning breath be damned.

Jim bailed on basketball again.

From then on, they said it a lot, as if they were making up for lost time.

August

It was a good month. They spent more nights with each other than not, and Jim felt like himself again, and like this wasn’t going to disappear on him at any moment and leave him hurting worse than ever.

One particular Monday, though, got the better of Pam. It wasn’t one big thing, just a lot of little things. Michael was particularly ridiculous and demanding. Her head hurt. She couldn’t get some new graphic design software she had spent a lot of money on to work right. Her mom was sounded sick on the phone. The air conditioning on the Yaris wasn’t working and it was a million degrees. It was like the day was conspiring against her.

Jim was gone all day on sales calls, but was supposed to swing by her place and take her to dinner. He told her he would be there by 6:30, but that came and went with no Jim. She was starving, and her frustration and irritation built minute by minute.

When he finally arrived, he was his usual self, cheerful, carefree, oblivious to the complete shittiness of the day. For the rare time, Pam did not find his easy good humor charming.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care, somewhere fast. I’m starving.”

“Burger King it is, then. You gonna go for the triple whopper? Your cholesterol, Beesly.”

Jim waited for a reaction, but got only silence, and saw no amusement at all in her face.

“You okay?”

“Could you have maybe called? You were late.”

Jim was taken aback by how clearly irritated she was. He tried to stay good humored. “I was, let’s see, twelve minutes late. Fifteen is the cutoff for a phone call to be required. Those are the rules, Pam. I don’t make them, I only play by them.”

As he finished his sentence, he kicked himself. Something was bothering her; it wasn’t the time to be cute.

“Damn it, Jim. Just go without me, I’ll make myself something. At least that way I won’t have to listen to your Goddamn comedy act all night.”

She heard herself say it, heard the bitter tone of her voice, and immediately wished she could unsay it. Just before she turned away from him, she saw his face fall. She buried her head in her hands. She tried to say, “I’m sorry” but was overcome by tears before she could even get the words out.

She was afraid to look up, afraid of seeing him looking hurt or angry or exasperated. He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if he had turned his back on her, or was about to walk back to his car and leave. The fights she would have with Roy flashed into her mind, how he would react whenever she lost it with him. He would tell her how crazy and stupid she was, and then disappear and go get drunk.

For a moment, she wondered if she had somehow damaged things, if he would ever be able to joke with her the same way again. She loved his comedy act, really.

Just as she was going to force herself to look up and apologize, she felt his arms wrap around her, gently at first, then pulling her close, tightly. She buried her face in his chest, wetting his shirt with her tears. She heard his voice, a soft whisper in her ear. “It’s okay, baby.”

It was the first time he had ever called her baby, and it sounded utterly ridiculous. She was suddenly laughing and crying at the same time.

She finally managed to look at him. She smiled at him through tears. “Baby?”

He looked at her sheepishly. “Uh, that just sort of slipped out.”

She smiled a little, the tears subsiding. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a terrible day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Like I said, it’s okay.” He paused, and smiled. “Baby.”

“Okay, do not make a habit out of that.”

He held her close and looked at her warmly. “So here’s the plan, Beesly. We’re ordering pizzas. Pizzas, plural. We’re getting in bed and turning on the television and we’re going to find the worst movie anywhere on television tonight and watch it all the way through.”

She felt some of the tension and upset draining out of her. She took a deep breath, and found a weary smile. “Okay. Two things though. I am the final judge of which movie is the worst. And, you are not to call me baby again.”

“Agreed on point one. I’m not sure about the second one though, baby.”

Jim fended off a playful beating and they made it to bed. The movie choice turned out to be uncontroversial, with “Big Momma’s House 2” easily triumphing over a generic Lifetime melodrama and some Nic Cage action movie.

They demolished the pizza and discussed the subtle nuances of Martin Lawrence’s performances. After the cinematic triumph was over, Pam cuddled up to him contentedly.

“Better?”

“Much.”

It became something of a tradition; when things got to her she would tell him she need to see a bad movie, and that became his cue to coddle her a bit, find a place where the two of them could be away from the rest of the world, preferably with something to mock. And on those nights, and those nights only, he called her, “baby.”

September

They never talked about the painful moments in the past, other than exchanging cursory “I’m sorrys” on their second date. Since then, they had an unspoken understanding not to speak of it. If they came too close, there would always be a brief uncomfortable silence and a quick change of subject.

Pam wondered if it would always be that way. She hoped not. As good as things were going, she felt, at times, a vague unease. It felt like there was some secret they were keeping from each other. Even with all her new bravery, she had not had the guts to take a chance and even try to bring up the hard times.

They were lying in bed, talking about this little thing and that little thing after a night of sex and television. She felt connected to him, safe. He seemed more himself than ever lately, and she felt loved by him constantly.

She hadn’t planned it, but suddenly she seized the moment.

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell you something.”

His face became serious in response to her tone, but he didn’t look nervous or fearful. “Okay.”

“When you told me you loved me, the first time..." She paused. "I loved you too.”

She looked at him, expecting him to tell her they didn’t need to talk about this, it was all okay. Instead, he looked calm, and focused on her. She continued, holding his hand, speaking slowly, thoughtfully.

“But I still loved Roy too, and the life I had with him, with his family. It wasn’t all great, I know, but…but it was all I knew. And to be with you I had to give it all up. It was just…I don’t know, Jim, it was just too much to decide in one moment. I wish I had said some different words, but…I don’t know why I’m talking about this, I just feel like there is the whole big thing that we never talk about, how it was for us.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking. She waited nervously, still expecting that he would find some reason why they shouldn’t talk about it, or perhaps even be angry at her for what she was saying.

“You’re right. We should. I know…I’ve been wanting to.”

They looked at each other, exchanging a glance as if to say “We’re really gonna do this?” But it was time.

He took her hand, caressed it as he thought. Finally he spoke, slowly, but with a calm, steady voice. “It’s hard…I don’t know if I can explain. It’s just…it felt like you were supposed to be with me, and for a long time I think I thought that someday you were gonna see that and it was gonna work out. But then, you were really gonna marry him, and it was making me crazy. I mean Pam, you wouldn’t even believe…I can’t describe how it was. Then, that night, the way you looked, smiled. I guess I was figured I was headed out of town anyway, what did I have to lose? I decided to give it one last try, put everything out there. I guess I didn’t think much about how it would be for you or whatever, I just...I don’t know.”

And they went on…

“I wanted to call you but it felt so weird, like it would be like I’m done with him, I’m ready for you now. And like I just left him to be with you. And I didn’t want it to be like that. I didn’t want to feel like I was unfaithful; I wanted to feel like…I don’t know. And I guess maybe I was a little mad that you just left, and I was afraid I’d call and it just wouldn’t matter.”

…

“I just figured you wanted to go back to the way it was. And I couldn’t do that. And…I guess I was still hurt, and maybe…I don’t know, maybe part of me wanted to hurt you back. But I felt ashamed of that. I’m sorry, Pam. I really am. And then just when I started to really have hope, and thinking that maybe there was a possibility, there was Roy again. And I was hurt all over. ”

…

“I knew it was a mistake the whole time, really. But just…I needed to be with somebody. For a little while. And he was there, and familiar, and it was easy, while everything else then was so hard. I had never been alone, really, and sitting by myself at that wedding and seeing you with her…I needed a break from being alone all the time.”

…

“I never felt about her the way I feel about you, not for a second. Deep down I knew it was just a temporary thing. I just kept putting off ending it as along as I could because I kept thinking I’d end up back where I started. And it was easier to just keep going. I guess…I don’t know. After the beach, I knew I think. I kept thinking of you, the way you looked at me, what you said, and I knew there was a chance there and I knew I couldn’t keep being with her. But it was still hard…I put it off as long as I could, but I couldn’t possibly have gone to New York with her. Even before I found the yogurt lid. Which was awesome, by the way.

…

“You didn’t seem like yourself with her, and I just couldn’t believe that it had all just gone away. But you would barely look at me. I didn’t know what to think.”

…

I never stopped being in love with you. I tried. But I never stopped.

…

“If I had only known…”

…

“If I had only known…”

…

“I love you.”

…

“I love you”

They told the truth with an open heart for a long time. What wasn’t understood was accepted and forgiven. They fell asleep sometime long after midnight. Pam woke up first. She had no idea of the time, but it was daylight out. He was close behind her; she could feel each breath against her neck. She felt free, safe, clean, loved.

It was all laid out before her, now. There was nothing left in their way, no shadows or clouds. With quiet contentment, she realized with a new certainty that this was it. He was hers, and she his, and nothing was going to jump from the shadows and tear them apart.

October

She spent a rare afternoon alone, painting. She would see him soon enough; he would be over late in the afternoon. They might go out, they might stay in. She didn’t care.

He had shown up one afternoon and asked her for help getting some stuff out of the car. She was puzzled, but followed him out. In his car was an easel, and a bunch of paints and canvasses. She knew they weren’t cheap, and there was no occasion.

“Jim? What are these for?”

“Beesly, you’re the artist. I really thought you knew what these are for. You use them to make pictures, I think is how it works.”

She was so genuinely pleased by the gift that she didn’t rebut his teasing. She gave him a look of happy exasperation.

“I just want to support the arts, Pam. Plus it’s our five month anniversary soon. Art supplies are the traditional five month gift. Didn’t you know that?

“Does this mean I need to go buy you some finger-paint?”

“I was thinking play-doh. But, there are alternate gift choices. We can talk about those later.”

She arched her eyebrows at him. “You have anything in particular in mind?”

He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling, and kissed her with ardor usually reserved for places other than the parking lot of her apartment.

“So, you like them?”

“Very much. Thank you.”

He was generous with her in so many ways that Roy never was. It had taken some getting use to. At first, when he did something for her or gave something to her, she would catch herself thinking it must have meant he had done something wrong, or that he expected something in return. He had worn down her cynicism, though.

And so she painted, with the paints he had given her, on the canvas he had given her. She painted in fall colors, as the leaves were just starting to turn, but she painted nothing in particular, just swirls of color. She filled the canvas with reds and oranges and browns and allowed her mind to wander. She thought of the past, not with anxiety but just simply wanting to remember. The times before him, and who she was then and what she thought was possible, seemed more and more distant. Even the traumas they went through to get here seem to have faded.

She’s not even really conscious of painting, but she snaps out of her reverie and looks at the canvas. She likes it, which is weird because she usually hates her paintings, especially the abstract ones, and she didn’t even really try with this one. But she looks at it and she really likes it. She imagines it hanging in their living room, then remembers there is no “their” living room, only “her” living room. Maybe that will change soon.

She hears a knock, knows it’s him, and rushes to the door, anxious for him to come in and see what she has done.