Everyone in the office was crowded into a group of three tables at Farley's Restaurant. Balloons were tied around the backs of the chairs and confetti was scattered on the tables. Michael stood up at the front of the group. He clinked a glass of water. "Attencion, everyone, attencion --- as you all may know, our dear friend and coworker, Jim Halpert, is leaving after today."
The group collectively groaned, as if on cue. All except for Dwight, who sat on the side with a smug smile on his face, and Angela, wearing her usual sour expression.
"Anyway, because he's been so important to us, we are giving him this going-away lunch at Farley's!" Everyone clapped tepidly. "Just a couple things before we order: um, don't order anything more expensive than seven dollars ... and, no alcohol, because the company won't pay for it." Michael looked at the camera and grinned. "Not because I'm a wet blanket - if it was my choice, we'd have a liquid lunch once a week, ha. I'm sure it'd increase productivity."
"I like that idea," Meredith said. She already had a mixed drink in front of her. She'd stopped at the bar before sitting down.
"I don't agree with that, Michael," Toby said.
"Oh, pish-posh, wet blanket!"
"No, I mean, it's against corporate regulations for employees to consume alcohol during work hours, and as the HR representative, I can't allow--"
"Toby. Jim Halpert, our top salesman--"
"Actually, I was the top salesman for all of Dunder-Mifflin," Dwight interrupted.
Michael snorted. "Yeah, maybe in sales numbers, but who looks at those?"
"Anyone who's interested in making commission," Stanley put in. "We are in the business of making money, Michael. Which we're not exactly doing right now by having lunch at Farley's."
"Money -- well, yeah, of course, but what I'm talking about is more important than money. I'm talking about sales character. Personality. These qualities may not be valued in dollars ..." Michael continued to blather on.
Jim looked at the camera, which had turned its attention away from Michael. "I'm not really sure whether to be insulted or flattered," Jim said. "Either way, I suppose, it's a free lunch." He shrugged, and turned back to face Michael, who was still talking.
"... Because laughter really is the best medicine, and few brought that to the table as often as Jim. In these stressful times of downsizing and budgets and other icky stuff, we need to laugh..."
"On second thought," Jim said, making a face, "I think I'm going to get a drink." He leaned over to Pam, who was sitting at his left. "You want a drink?"
"A drink-drink?" Her eyes went wide.
Jim gestured towards Michael. "What else? I know I'm going to need it."
"Yeah - just get me whatever you're getting." She looked over at Michael, who was in the midst of telling a very offensive joke. "Double."
Jim headed towards the bar while the rest of the staff settled in to watch the inevitable train wreck. "So the horse went, 'Well, that's what she said!" Michael guffawed loudly. "Get it? That's what she said?"
"Yeah, Michael, we got it," Meredith said, sucking the last bit of drink out of her glass. It made a loud slurping noise that caused everyone to look at her. "What?" she asked.
"Well, anyway, speaking of our favorite salesman -- hey, where did Jim go?" Everyone turned and looked at the bar, where Jim was paying for the two drinks he'd ordered. He turned around to see everyone staring at him. "What?" he said.
"Aw, what the hell -- it's not everyday you have to say goodbye to your top salesman..." Michael said.
"I'm your top salesman, Michael," Dwight said, perturbed. "I sold 25 percent more product than Jim and I won the Salesman of the Year Award; I don't see why--"
"Shut up, Dwight. We're trying to have a good time here," Michael scowled. "Waitress!"
A girl with a nametag that said "Sharie" came over. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"Yes, Sharie - lovely name, by the way." Michael gestured at Jim, who was sitting down and had already finished half of the double vodka-cranberry he'd ordered. "My employee here, Jim - is leaving us. And, we at Dunder-Mifflin do not believe in sorrowful goodbyes. We would like to celebrate what will be the new beginning of a great career for him."
Sharie nodded.
"And celebrations call for drinks. I'll like to order a round of drinks for everyone here! Salud!"
Toby stood up. "Michael, corporate will not pay for any alcohol. We're not even supposed to be drinking right now. We shouldn't even be outside the --"
"Toby, I am so sick of you and your stupid HR-corporate fag rules..." Michael stopped himself when he caught Pam staring at him in shock.
Oscar also stood up, glaring at Michael.
"I mean, corporate hag rules, you know - this is not about rules. It's about what feels good. It's about camaraderie. It's about seeing a friend off..."
"That's fine, but corporate's still not going to pay for it," Toby said.
"You ... are not dating the district manager, Jan Levinson-formally-Gould." Michael smiled crookedly at the camera. "Jan and I have an understanding. Plus, she's the one that offered Jim the position. I'm sure it won't be a problem."
Sharie, the waitress, shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Did you want to order some drinks, then?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, yes. Everyone - order whatever you want. Doin' it for Jim!" Michael clapped loudly. "I'll start - please give me.... a vodka-tonic."
Sharie went around the tables and ordered drinks for everyone. Jim ordered another double-round for himself and Pam, who, like him, had already finished her first drink.
Pam looked up at Jim, smiling. "Man," she said. "These drinks go down quickly."
"Yeah, drinks go fast when you're having fun." Jim glanced at the camera and gave a half-smile. He turned back to Pam. He was so glad that they were actually hanging out together on his last day there. He was worried she would be too afraid to talk to him, knowing that he was leaving. He was trying not to think about the fact that she would be married when he got back. That's why he was transferring to Stamford. To start over.
For now, all he wanted to do was enjoy the last afternoon he was probably ever going to spend with her. And pretend that everything was okay, for just a couple more hours...
---
An hour-and-a-half and three more double drinks later, Jim was feeling extremely tipsy and Pam was edging ever closer to 'Dundies-drunk,' Jim's nickname for the level of drunkenness Pam had reached at last year's Dundie Awards. (It was otherwise known as the "Infamous Chili's Incident." Because of it, she was no longer allowed in Chili's, which Michael always seemed to forget. Chili's was Michael's favorite restaurant. He said it 'made him lucky,' whatever that meant.)
Her giggling was out of control, and she leaned into him.
Jim grinned at the camera as he continued telling the story: "So, yeah - all afternoon, Dwight kept asking, 'Where's my potato gun? Where's my potato gun? You're not licensed to use that! Do you have a FOID card?'" He started laughing hysterically, grabbing onto Pam as she rolled in laughter as well.
Across the way, Dwight was in what appeared to be very deep conversation with Angela, who, every so often, looked over at Jim and Pam very suspiciously.
Out of sight to the guests, who had started to become rowdy enough to not notice where the film crew was slinking about, the camera zoomed in on Dwight and Angela's feet, intertwined, under the table.
---
Pam had sauntered off to the bathroom (her fourth trip so far). On the way out, Jeff, who wanted to film a short segment before she went back to the table, stopped her.
"Oh, yeah, I'm having a great time," Pam said. Her words were starting to slur. She leaned up against the wall for support. "I really, really, really can't believe Jim's leaving me. I mean, I know he loves me." She bit the inside of her cheek. "I guess I kind of love him, too. I wish I didn't have to marry Roy sometimes."
"Isn't that still your choice? You don't have to do it."
"My choisch?" she slurred. "We've been together ten years -- ten years -- you can't give up on that kind of commitment! You have to stick with it!" She paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next. "It's just -- I mean, I waited over three years just to get a date set! And... it's Roy, I mean, Roy, he's just... you know. He's always been my boyfriend, now fiancé."
"Yeah?"
Pam must have sensed skepticism. "I mean, of course I want to marry Roy!" she practically yelled. At that moment, the room became practically silent and everyone turned in her direction. Pam looked up and saw everyone looking at her. She started blushing furiously before ducking back into the bathroom again. Why? she thought. Why did these things always happen to her? She was never going to drink again. And why was everyone always questioning her choices?
Back at the table, Jim had seen the entire outburst. He saw Jeff's camera turn right towards him. He knew he was in the midst of what was-to-become an embarrassing close-up. Do not break, Halpert. Do not break. Be strong, he thought to himself. His mother was going to be watching this someday.
That thought suddenly made him wince, and he got up. "I think I need some fresh air," he said to Ryan. Ryan shrugged as Jim quickly shuffled out of the restaurant into the stifling hot June air. Not exactly the refreshing sensation he was looking for.
---
"What did Pam say back there?" Jim asked as Jeff came out to the parking lot, camera on shoulder.
Jeff didn't respond.
"Yeah, I know. You can't say." He shrugged. "I suppose it's not your fault." Jim sat down on the front step, his chin in his hands. "Sometimes I don't know what I was thinking, falling in love with a girl who was engaged. For as long as I've known her, she's been with Roy. She was never, ever available. But somehow, I harbored this delusion that she might, somewhere along the line, change her mind. That she'd see me for who I really am. That maybe she'd fall in love with me and leave Roy."
Behind the camera, Jeff raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"I don't know who I was kidding. Maybe I should just go now."
"I think we should probably call you a taxi if you're going to leave," Jeff said. "You can't drive." He put the camera down for a second to take a look at Jim. He looked like a wreck. Jim had run his hands through his hair and now it was sticking straight up and every which way. His eyes were bloodshot and his happy expression from earlier had turned to despair. He rubbed his eyes, and struggled to stand up. Jim felt himself starting to lean involuntarily; he grabbed the nearest post and fell against it.
"Man, I'm messed up," Jim said to himself.
"Jim, why don't you wait here? Sit down. We'll figure out how to get you out of here."
Jim nodded and plopped himself on the curb. It was kind of nice to just sit out there and get a bit of peace and quiet. No Michael. No Dwight. No Pam. No cameras. I could get used to this, he thought. He was going to have to get used to this. His life in the (embarrassing) spotlight was about to end. Once he transferred to Stamford, he wasn't going to have the camera crew around. No more stupid Michael jokes. No more pranks to pull on Dwight. No more Pam...
Suddenly, he wondered if he really was making the right decision. It was more money salary-wise, even though moving to Stamford was going to cost him more initially since he'd have to get a place of his own. The housing there was a little more expensive, too. But honestly, sitting around Scranton pining for a (soon-to-be) married woman certainly wasn't getting him anywhere. Ever since the Booze Cruise - when Roy had announced the wedding date - every day at work seemed like it was etching a deeper wound in his heart. Kissing Pam on the Casino Night was just a last-ditch effort to try and repair that wound. A horrible, awful, failure of an effort. If anything, it had only made things worse. Just seeing her, knowing that she wasn't ever going to be his - it made his heart ache so much he could barely stand it. It was consuming his mind.
"Damn it, Halpert. How did you become such a miserable failure at life?" he muttered to himself.
He didn't notice the front door of the restaurant opening. Pam peeked out the door, and upon seeing Jim, she ran clumsily over to his side. She practically fell trying to sit down. Those pencil skirts she wore didn't make it easy to sit on the ground, let alone sit gracefully. He reached out for her waist to catch her without thinking about it, and helped her sit.
"I heard that, Jim," she said, reaching her arm around his shoulder. "You're not a failure."
Why are you doing this? he thought to himself.
Because this was the last time he was ever going to see her. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms and hold her forever. Don't ever let go.
"I am," he said, looking at her. His face was wet. "All I ever wanted was you. And I knew I couldn't have it. And I asked anyway. And..." His head fell into his hands, his chest shaking. "I'm so sorry, Pam. Please don't be mad at me. Please don't hate me."
"Jim," she said, gently rubbing at the nape of his neck. He immediately wiped his face, and sniffed. "I want you to know that I will never hate you. You are my best friend. And," she sighed heavily, "like I said before -- you have no idea what your friendship means to me."
"But -- why? Why not me? I overheard part of your conversation in the office -- that night -- you were talking to your mom--" Jim wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that this was the last time he might see her, but he felt unusually frank with her. He had never told her he heard part of that conversation she'd had with her mom. 'I think I am...' What did that mean, anyway?
She squared his shoulders, pushing him away from her to give them space. "It's complicated, Jim ... I told you that."
"Why, Pam? Is it because you're afraid of change? Is that why you wouldn't take the internship? Is that why you let Roy go almost four years without setting a date?"
She looked at him, surprised, her eyes flitting back and forth, up and down. "What the hell do you know?" she asked. She felt angry and hurt, and she stood up quickly, but almost fell right back down again because she was still tipsy.
"What do I know?" Jim asked, who had finally had enough. "I know that Michael told me that Roy said your first engagement didn't even count."
Pam looked shocked. She couldn't believe he would say something like that. She slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to leave a red mark across his cheek.
"You know nothing about Roy and you know nothing about me, Jim Halpert. I thought you were my friend."
"I am your friend, Pam," he said, stepping forward, so close that he was looking straight down at her face. He winced in pain. "I don't want you to end up making the biggest mistake of your life."
"Let me be the judge of that," she snapped, shoving him backwards. "Have a nice trip."
With that, she opened the door to the restaurant and slammed it behind her, sending a gust of wind into his face.
Jim sighed loudly. "That could not have gone worse," he said aloud to himself.
Just then, he noticed Jeff was standing in the corner of the porch of the restaurant. He had probably been there the entire time Pam and he had been talking.
Jim looked right at the camera. "Fuck you, too," he said, and went to his car. "I'll drive myself home, thanks."
---
Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim's going-away party. In true Dunder-Mifflin form, there's plenty of drinking and painful moments.
