A Girl Like Thunder
Jim Halpert knew Pam Beesly wasn't a perfect woman.
Her skin wasn't flawless and porcelain. She had beauty-marks in odd places, and freckles made colonies on her shoulders. A few errant scars drifted around, remnants of some pain in her youth; the soles of her feet were hard with calluses, and she laughed whenever he'd touch them. The pinky on her left hand was bent at a strange angle; she'd broken it playing soccer in high school.
Pam usually had some colour of paint on her hands, and he was forever finding chips of dried, plasticky acrylic paint in the cups he used to drink out of. The skin on her nose got dry and cracked in the winter, and she refused to use umbrellas in the rain. Sometimes she'd forget to lock the front door before they went to sleep, and she'd locked her keys in her car on more than one occasion.
Her long, reddish hair was usually untamable, and most of the time she just clipped it back, but more recently she'd been taking the time to straighten, then curl it into big, loose waves that drove him wild. She didn't like wearing socks in summer, and wore her faded, paint-splattered Chucks without them. Her nipples were sort of an odd shape, and a dusty pink colour; she wore bras to bed because it made her feel more secure; she listened to music in her car with the windows down...
Jim didn't keep a tally of these things on purpose. He didn't understand why he knew all these weird things about her, but they were just things he'd notice - for no reason other than the fact that all his attention was focused on her.
Sometimes she'd drive him crazy, and they would fight for about ten minutes before she'd just clam up. That was when he knew she was really angry. When she wasn't really angry, or when she knew she was wrong, her eyes would start to well up with tears. She said 'I'm sorry' too much, and sometimes she made really bad jokes. She had awful spring allergies, and her eyes were rimmed red for most of the month of April each year, but she still loved the springtime.
On occasion, she'd get these fits where she'd wake up in the middle of the night for no reason. After that, she couldn't go back to sleep, and he could hear her watching late-night cartoons and reruns of old shows. She sang too loudly and got drips of paint on the floorboards. Occasionally, Jim wanted to crawl under the bed like he was five, just to have some solitude.
But for each of those things, there were two better things about her, and Jim loved her for each of those faults anyway. She was the kind of love where he couldn't feel his toes when he watched her brush her teeth. She was the kind of song and dance where he fell head-over-heels just because she found her lost keys in the sink, or because she hummed while she did the dishes.
Pam was the kind of girl who wasn't afraid to walk around without her shoes on. Who answered the phone like each person calling was someone she was pleased to hear from. She never drowned you out, always listened, always gave a damn about you or where you were going or what you were doing.
She always replaced the toilet paper after it ran out. Always danced out in thunderstorms and stayed out just that little bit longer when the tornado alerts were broadcast on the radio. Always bought plastic cups because she broke the glass ones accidentally. She’d start laughing in bed at something witty he’d said and roll around in the sheets until tears streamed from her eyes. She painted stained glass paint onto one window pane in their kitchen because she said it made the place feel less like a house and more like a home – something quirky about it that you didn’t necessarily like, but that you really loved.
Pam Beesly was like rain – quick to fall, and quick to get sucked back up into the clouds, where her head was most of the time. Pam was like a lightning bolt – fast to strike, but next to never in the same place. But most of all, Jim thought, Pam was like thunder – you knew that it could be far away, but you’d always hear it wherever you were.
Jim Halpert knew Pam Beesly wasn’t a perfect woman, but he loved her anyway.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is a one-shot that came from way out of left field, and I know the ending's a little cheesy, but bear with me. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: The Office (American version) belongs to the guys at NBC.
Disclaimer: The Office (American version) belongs to the guys at NBC.
citrus_scented is the author of 3 other stories.
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