Jim Halpert just wanted to get home.
What had started out as any other day in the paper-selling business had ended with an afternoon trip to Philadelphia to appease a large client who had received ten cases of the wrong color paper. After a four-hour round trip to apologize profusely and deliver the correct shade of cream-colored letterhead, the end of his sojourn appeared near as he picked out his house with the blinking red and green Christmas lights lining the roof.
With the recent closing of two branches, and layoffs hitting the Scranton branch hard, Jim had been putting in extra hours before the holidays to help keep the office afloat and it was starting to wear him down. All he wanted to do was kick off his shoes and hang out with his wife and daughter before they put Olivia to bed.
As he was nearing his driveway, his cell phone buzzed:
Can u please pick up some milk? I’ll pay you back when Olivia goes to bed. ;)
Jim smiled at the double meaning as he continued past his house and back toward the drug store. He looked down at the clock. It read 9:54. If he stepped on it, he would be able to make it before they closed. He found a close parking spot and slipped in the front entrance with a minute to spare.
His recent experience as a new Dad had allowed him to become friendly with the drug store staff. He couldn’t count how many times he had made a late night run to grab medicine for the baby, or a snack for his wife’s random cravings. The night shift manager gave him a friendly wave as he made his way to the back of the store.
Jim scanned the cooler of milk. So many choices. He could never remember what brand his wife preferred. There were many things Jim did remember when it came to his wife -- like the time he knew she was the one he wanted to marry. Or, the way her face lit up when she smiled just so. But milk preference was not on that list.
Sorry - what kind of milk should I get?
His phone gently buzzed in his hand: The white kind. ;p
Jim sighed.
Very funny. Guess I’ll just pick one.
He knew this would get a reaction out of her.
No! I like the organic, fat-free stuff. The kind in the red carton. ;) Have I ever told you you’re my hero?
He smiled to himself.
No, Ms. Midler - you haven’t. ;) See you in a few.
Jim snapped his phone shut and walked to the front of the store. He was surprised to see a short line forming at the lone open register. He opened his phone and began typing a message to his wife to say he’d be home shortly when he heard a familiar voice coming from the front of the line. He looked up and saw a sight he thought he would never see again. Maybe it was a little shorter, and they were definitely a bit looser than last he remembered, but there was no mistaking whose curly hair he was looking at.
“Pam?”
The woman in front of him turned around, thinking Jim was addressing her, as the intended recipient of his query stood up ramrod straight at the sound of his voice. With a slight hesitancy born from years of wishful thinking, Pam Beesly slowly turned around. The look of shock on her face betrayed the calmness she was hoping to exude.
Oh my God.
She stood there for a second -- blinked once to assure herself it was really him -- before she managed to squeak out a dry, raspy response that made her sound like she had been trapped in the desert for many days without water and was finally being rescued.
“Hi, Jim.”
And as she gazed upon him for the first time in five years, she thought, in a way, that was exactly what this felt like.
