************
I really liked Jim’s apartment. It was bigger than mine, and had new carpet and a self-cleaning oven. Which, as it turned out, he needed—because although Jim’s actually a pretty good cook, he’s a little less good at cleaning. And he calls me messy.
But mostly I liked it because it just felt like him. It did have a bit of the man-boy thing, what with the sports magazines scattered around the living room and stuffed into a rack in the bathroom; the hundreds of CDs and DVDs; the PlayStation with an array of sports-related games. Beyond that, though, there were pieces of his personality I’d never seen before and I catalogued everything I saw, longing to crawl inside his mind and memorize his history.
There was a large print of Hieronymus Bosch’s Temptation of St Anthony over the couch, which was a puffy caramel-brown faux-suede thing, supremely comfortable and dangerously easy to fall asleep on. A blue and green afghan that his mother had made him was draped over the back. On the end table was a small bronze sculpture of a sleeping fox with the signature Cassandra Zajac inscribed on the base. “My aunt,” he explained. “She does sculpture and pottery…she lives in Japan.”
There were bookcases in every room, and I was astonished at the number of books he had, in an amazing variety of genres: fiction, mysteries, history, sci-fi, classics, a shelf of poetry. He chuckled kind of shyly when he caught me looking over a well-thumbed copy of the Collected Works of Emily Dickinson and made a mumbled, self-deprecating comment about his mother the English teacher, but he didn’t fool me.
I filed it away in my ever-increasing mental index of Things I Didn’t Know About Jim.
His bedroom was much as it had been in his old house, though he had a new bedspread. More books, stacked on shelves and piled on the desk. And he still had the bulletin board hanging over his desk. There were a few notes tacked up with reminders of upcoming events and to-do lists, but the edges were taken up with mementos: concert and movie ticket stubs; a receipt for some sushi place in New York; a small snapshot of his nephew with a grin on his face and a piece of pizza in his chubby three-year-old fist. And there in the bottom right corner I saw something that first made me smile and then brought tears to my eyes.
Was it four years ago? Roy and Kenny had gone down to Philadelphia to spend the weekend with one of Roy’s high-school buddies, and when I went to the video store I ran into Jim. We bantered back and forth a little about our respective lamenesses for having nothing better to do on a Friday night before I said impulsively, “You should come over and have dinner.”
He kind of froze and I felt my heart fall into my stomach at his expression, one that said he needed to think up a lie immediately but was coming up blank.
Maybe he does have a date, and just didn’t tell me.
Why wouldn’t he?
He probably just doesn’t want to but doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.
“No, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,” I said quickly, casually, turning a little to amble down to the next section of the new release wall so I wouldn’t have to look at him.
“No, it’s just…” His eyebrows drew together as he glanced at the movie I was holding. “Do you seriously think Roy will watch Chicago?” he asked with a grin.
I laughed. “No way. But he’s not home tonight, he…” And suddenly I realized the source of his hesitation. “He and Kenny went to Philly for the weekend. He has a friend that got some extra tickets to the Flyers game tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Understanding and relief and something like panic flashed across his face before settling on the soft, affectionate expression I knew so well. “So you’re trying to sucker me into watching Chicago with you,” he concluded, his smile becoming mischievous.
“You’re on to me, Halpert,” I smiled.
“All right, but I’m not making you cook for me. C’mon, let’s go check out that new Mexican place over on Mulberry. My treat.” All traces of his previous hesitation were gone and I was suddenly assailed by a guilty, clandestine kind of pleasure at the thought of getting to be alone with Jim for a while.
I made the obligatory protest, he insisted, and we ended up drinking a pitcher of margaritas over a long, leisurely dinner. By the time he drove me back to my car at the video store, it was going on eleven and we decided it was kind of late to start a movie. But he followed me home to make sure I’d be okay, and I made him promise to call me when he got back to his house. It was supposed to just be a one-ringer to let me know he’d arrived safely, but we ended up giggling drunkenly on the phone for another two hours. It was literally the most fun I’d had in months, and before we hung up I told him that.
“Me too,” he said softly.
There on the bulletin board Jim had tacked up the cocktail napkin on which I’d drawn a little caricature of the two of us. We were holding hands, our fishbowl-shaped glasses raised up in salute, and underneath I’d written: best friends 4ever!
How unthinkingly I’d tormented him.
For weeks that little drawing seemed to taunt me whenever I spent the night at Jim’s, reminding me of time wasted, daring me to think about how much he loved me all those years only to have me turn a blind eye and call it friendship. But in time I began to see it differently; less a memory of missed opportunity and more a symbol of the strength of our connection. It was us… and he’d never thrown it away.
************
The last weekend in June, there was a conference in New York for all the regional managers of Dunder-Mifflin Northeast. David Wallace had called Jim personally to request that he accompany Michael. Michael was a lot more thrilled about this than Jim…although Dwight’s outrage at being excluded was somewhat amusing.
“The whole weekend?” I pouted over lunch that Friday. We hadn’t been apart more than a few hours since the day he first asked me to dinner.
He sighed and shrugged. "Someone’s got to keep an eye on Michael. Remind me to put that on my resume… ‘extensive baby-sitting experience.’” He smiled wryly.
I quirked an eyebrow at that. He hadn’t talked about looking for a new job in…well, ever.
“Beesly, I have a very serious request,” he said gravely. “Something only you can do.”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “You don’t know what it is.”
I shrugged. “Well, it’s you, so, I predict something silly, or fun.”
“I just said it was serious.”
“Yes, but…I don’t believe you.” I grinned.
“Pam.” He held my gaze for a long moment, eyes stern, mouth set, until my smile faded and I frowned in alarm. “What is it?” I asked, worried now.
“Pam,” he repeated. “I need you to do something very important for me while I’m gone. Can I rely on you.”
“Always.”
At that, his lips twitched with the threat of a smile. “Good to know,” he murmured, and then resumed his solemn expression. “Will you water my plants while I’m away?”
I laughed and threw my napkin at him. “You suck.”
“You wound me, Beesly. I’m very fond of my plants, as you know.” He winked and took a huge bite of his sandwich, chewing ostentatiously as I stared at him.
“Actually I had no idea,” I deadpanned. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but water my plants? Really.
He swallowed and took a long pull off his Coke. “Well, maybe you don’t know everything about me,” he said, smiling mysteriously. “I am particularly attached to the one in my kitchen window, which was a housewarming gift from my sister.” He gazed at me steadily, intently, as he placed a silver key on the table and slid it toward me with his index finger.
Oh.
I reached out to accept it with a slightly trembling hand. “So…I’ll just hang on to this till you get back…?” I lifted my eyebrows.
He shook his head slowly. “It’s yours.”
I smiled. “Oh. Okay. I’ll, um…okay.” I pulled my keychain out of my purse and tried to keep my eyes on his as I threaded it on, but the ring was really tight and I had to look down and pry it apart with the key to get it started.
When I looked back up, he was smiling and there was something soft and warm in his eyes that made me feel like I could melt into a puddle right there at the table. “I’m really gonna miss you,” he said in a low voice.
I just nodded, speechless. Sometimes, the way he looks at me…that voice… well. It’s more than a mere mortal woman can resist.
************
Michael had insisted they carpool, to which Jim initially objected but eventually gave in, as arguing with Michael is exhausting and usually fruitless anyway. Michael also wanted to head out to the city on Friday night—to “par-tay down the house,” whatever that meant—but Jim managed to talk him out of that in favor of leaving Saturday morning. We stayed up a little later than we should have while he packed, so when his alarm went off at some ungodly predawn hour I got up and made coffee while he was in the shower. He thanked me profusely and then chastised me for getting up so early. “Go back to bed,” he instructed, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll call you when we get there.”
“Be careful.” I hugged him again and tugged him down by his tie to give him another kiss, then stood at the door as he disappeared down the stairs. When he reemerged in the parking lot he looked back up and waved one more time.
I lifted my hand and waved and watched until he’d pulled onto the street before I headed back in, and as I shut the door I had a sudden, prescient vision of what it would be like when we were married. Seeing him off to work and then going back inside to take care of the baby.
Whoa, Nellie. Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? We’d only been dating a month; we hadn’t even begun to talk about anything even remotely resembling the future.
Still…
I went back to bed and hugged his pillow to me, burying my face in his scent, but I couldn’t get back to sleep. It just wasn’t the same.
***********
I knew I should just go home, but I convinced myself that being surrounded by his things was kind of the same as being with him, and I didn’t want to leave. Still, I couldn’t help feeling like a bit of an intruder, being in his place without him there, so I decided to clean his apartment. We’d been at my place for most of the last week, so it wasn’t particularly messy, but the furniture was in serious need of polishing and the kitchen and bathroom hadn’t been scrubbed down in a while.
He called a little before ten, about an hour behind schedule and sounding more than a little aggravated. “Michael was still in bed when I got there to pick him up,” he whispered fiercely. “The first meeting starts at ten, we’re already gonna be late…I’ll call you after?”
“Definitely.” I missed him already.
“Are you still at my place?” he asked in a low, teasing voice.
“I am. When was the last time you cleaned out the microwave, Halpert? Don’t you know spaghetti sauce is like super glue when you let it sit?”
“You are not cleaning.”
“Just making myself useful.”
“You spoil me, Beesly,” he murmured.
I wanted to spoil him. I wanted to clean his floors and re-pot his plants and iron his dress shirts. I wanted to fuss over him and make sure he ate proper meals and slept on clean sheets. I wanted to take care of him, the way he was always taking care of me.
“You’ll get used to it,” I said lightly.
************
I felt a little ridiculous for missing him so much in the space of just a few hours, but it was gratifying to find it wasn’t just me. He called me after the first meeting, around noon; then again at four; and again around seven, when he was getting ready for dinner. “We’re going to Gramercy Tavern. So, apparently the Albany branch is potentially on the chopping block, but corporate can afford to treat us to a thousand-dollar-dinner,” he said dryly.
“Wow.” I switched the phone to my other ear and flopped back onto my couch. I’d thought about staying at Jim’s overnight, but as weird as it felt without him during the day, I couldn’t imagine trying to sleep in his bed without him. “Are you wearing the blue shirt and the navy tie? The one with the silver swirly design?”
He laughed. “Yes, dear.”
“Well, you can only get so far with your wit and charm, Halpert. Appearances matter too.”
“And I am very grateful to have your input.”
“Hey, did you see Ryan?”
“Yeah, he was there. Didn’t say a whole lot though. He’s growing a beard.”
I laughed. “Really?”
“Yeah…at this stage it’s more like an exaggerated five o’clock shadow…now if he just had a white jacket and t-shirt, he could pull off a pretty respectable Miami Vice imitation.”
“Ryan Howard is no Don Johnson.”
“True…I don’t think he’s even a Colin Farrell…” He cleared his throat. “I had kind of a weird conversation with Karen today,” he said abruptly.
And just like that, my relaxed contentment disappeared and my heart started racing. I’d forgotten, somehow, that she’d be there. “Oh yeah?” I prompted, hoping my tone didn’t give me away.
“Yeah, after the first meeting, she…well anyway it was kind of…awkward, obviously…and…well… anyway. She said she did not leave those notes in my desk.”
“What?”
“Yeah. So…weird, huh?”
“You believe her?” I scoffed.
“Yeah, I do. She seemed…she didn’t know what I was talking about. I mean I thought her reaction was pretty genuine. Although she did laugh,” he added with a sigh and a little chuckle.
“That makes no sense. Who else would’ve done it?”
“Aaaand therein lies the mystery. I’m gonna go with Dwight.”
“Dwight doesn’t pull pranks.”
“But he was the one who got me to go into that folder, though.”
“Hmm.” Still…Dwight? It didn’t seem like his style either. Not that he had a pranking style. His brand of needling is so much more upfront and direct.
“Pam? I’m sorry, but I need to get going.”
“Have fun with your girlfriend at dinner,” I teased.
“If only she were here with me,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’ll be too late, can I call you before bed?”
“You sure you want to do that? Might ruin the mood with your girlfriend.”
“Shut up,” he laughed. “I love you, I miss you, I’ll talk to you in a few hours.”
I smiled. “Bye.”
***********
He was still wearing a suit when he showed up at my place Sunday afternoon. I squealed and jumped into his arms like he was a GI back from the war and he picked me up and twirled me around and kissed me until we were both gasping for air. “I came straight here,” he said against my lips. “Couldn’t wait another second. Tell me I left something to wear over here?”
“Oh, you won’t be needing clothes,” I growled, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and working on his shirt buttons.
He grinned and his eyes grew dark and he tossed his messenger bag on the couch, pulling me into another kiss as we stumbled down the hallway together, dropping a trail of clothing along the way.
Reunited sex: the best yet! Which is saying something.
***********
“I count nine calls and six texts.” Jim reached over to drop his phone on the end table. “We are officially co-dependent.”
“No way,” I said lazily. “It would have to be at least twelve calls to qualify as co-dependent.”
“Is that right.”
“Yes. And no, texts don’t count as calls.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Do you want to be co-dependent?” I grinned up at him. “Unhealthy, Halpert. Maybe we should spend a few days apart.”
“You’re a cruel woman, Beesly.” He smiled and kissed the top of my head, tightening his arm around my shoulders, and we fell quiet for a time. It was growing dark outside and I was drowsily content, sprawled half on top of him. His fingertips traced wide, lazy circles over my back.
“So I was thinking,” he said after a while, in the soft tone that meant he was nervous.
When he has something on his mind, Jim can take a long time to get it out. This is something I have known about him for a long time, and sometimes he’d need a little push, but generally if I was patient, he’d open up in his own time.
“My parents have this tradition,” he said at last. “They have a barbecue every year for the fourth of July. It’s kind of a big thing, everybody tries to make it. My aunts and uncles and everybody.”
I sensed a question there, but he fell silent for so long I finally said, “It sounds nice.”
“Yeah.” He reached up into my hair, massaging my scalp gently. “So I was thinking… maybe you could, um, you’d like to come?”
Meet your parents? The thought was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. What had he told them about me? Anything? Everything?
There was only one answer, of course. “Yeah, it sounds great.” I looked up into his face, hoping he didn’t see my uncertainty, and was rewarded with one of his tender, happy smiles that sent a warm tingle all the way to my toes. When he looked at me like that it was like being reminded why I was alive.
“Great.” He ran his fingers back down the nape of my neck, tracing along my shoulderblade. “Do you have any vacation days left? We could maybe make it a long weekend…I think the fourth is on a Wednesday this year.”
He’s given this some thought. “Yeah, I can do that. I haven’t used any time off so far.”
“Really?” He grinned down at me. “I’m surprised you could hold out so long.”
“You have no idea, Halpert.” Truth was, I hadn’t had any reason to take time off. To do what? Sit in my apartment and do even more endless thinking than I did at work? At home, I hadn’t even had the back of his neck to look at.
He pulled me up on his chest and bent down to kiss me. “My family’s gonna love you,” he said in a low, husky voice, so deep and warm and sincere I was almost able to believe him without fear.
********
The Halperts lived down the road in Wilkes-Barre, “close enough to be convenient, far enough that they don’t drop in without calling,” as Jim joked. “So, um, fair warning, Beesly…I have, like, kind of a big family.”
“You have one brother and one sister, Jim. Hardly impressive, especially for Catholics,” I teased.
“Yeah…” He glanced at me sideways, taking his eyes off the road only briefly. “But remember I said my aunts and uncles and cousins would be there?”
I looked at him, realization dawning.
“Yeah …I have eight uncles, and seven aunts, and about twenty cousins.” He grinned at my open-mouthed astonishment. “But they won’t all be there. I think my mom said there will be about thirty altogether.”
“Turn around,” I said in mock horror. Although, really? Thirty? What was he getting me into? Maybe it would be easier to hide with that many people around…
He reached over and took my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Relax, Beesly. It’ll be fine. Everyone really wants to meet you.”
Everyone?
I took a deep breath. “About that.”
He cocked a questioning eyebrow, but this time it was his turn to wait. I, too, have a hard time spitting it out when I have something on my mind. Maybe that was why we were such a communications disaster for so long? We were still getting used to be able to say what we were thinking.
“What exactly does your family know about me?” I blurted.
He was quiet for a few minutes, focused on the road, not looking at me at all, but when I began to pull my hand back he tightened his fingers around mine. “I talked to my mom and my sister a lot,” he said finally. “But…please don’t worry,” he said softly. “They want to meet you. They’ll love you, Pam.” He flashed me a reassuring grin. “So here’s what I was thinking. We’ll hang out for a few hours, have some brats and beers, come back this evening? And then we’ve got four days to do… whatever,” he finished, his voice silky and suggestive at this last. “That sound okay?”
I nodded, but I was starting to wonder if this was a mistake. Too soon, maybe.
When, then? This is Jim. Jim’s family. Just suck it up and make him proud.
Right.
************
Author's Chapter Notes:
Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao-Tzu
Lao-Tzu
Chapter End Notes:
Once again, I had about three different versions of this chapter...Pam is giving me a hard time lately. Thanks to all who have been coming along for the ride. Any thoughts, comments, or suggestions are welcome and appreciated!
