Jim was planted in his chair for a long time as his mind ran through a whole gamut of emotions:  astonishment, relief, joy, anger, vindication, kinship – a smoldering trace of love?  That was insane; he hadn’t spoken to Pam in two years.  He didn’t know her anymore; how could he love her?  She might well not be the same person he loved back in Scranton.  But still, something had remained unchanged – something important – if she was sending him this picture.

Pam was lost when Jim and Karen moved to New York.  She’d been growing stronger in her determination to let him know how she felt.  She’d all but told him – in front of everyone they knew – that she was in love with him.  If Karen hadn’t been there, she probably would have said it outright.  When Jim sought her out as she cooled her feet in the water, she thought she’d really made a huge step forward in repairing their relationship.  She was shocked the next day when Phyllis informed her that Jim was interviewing for a position in New York.  She’d cried tears of anger and frustration the whole drive home from work that night.  Why had it taken so long to build up her courage?

Pam didn’t just love Jim, she admired him.  He would get this position, whatever it was, she was sure.  He was talented and smart and personable.  They’d have to see it.  They’d have to.  So he’d be offered the job and finally have the chance to grow and become a leader.  He had that in him; she’d always seen it.  Jim was a natural leader – the kind of guy who would make someone want to contribute, who could teach people without being condescending, who could make someone see something in herself that she never knew was there before.  He’d succeed and be proud of himself – of real accomplishments instead of just successful pranks on Dwight – and she wanted that for him.  Pam wanted wonderful things, only the best, for Jim – even if his departure meant she’d never have a chance with him again.  Because she loved him and because she’d hurt him, Pam firmly believed it entirely fitting that Jim’s long-term happiness should supersede her own.

Jim’s mind was racing.  Why now?  Did Kelly just tell Pam that he and Karen had broken up months ago?  Or did Kelly tell her months ago that they had broken up?  He reread Pam’s card to try to parse out which thing she was saying.  She didn’t hear about the breakup and then only contact him after she learned of his promotion, did she?  No, how could he even think that?  Pam was never like that in all the time he knew her.  She couldn’t have changed that much.

So, when did Kelly tell her about the breakup?  How the hell did Kelly even know about the breakup?  Jim thought back over his last visit to Scranton.  Michael had asked him about Karen.

“So, when are the two of you gonna tie the knot, Jimbo?”

“We aren’t.”

“Still not ready to settle down, huh?  She’s pretty hot, that one.  You’d better not take too long and let her get away.”

“We aren’t ever getting married, Michael.  We actually broke up a few months ago.”

“Oh my God.  I’m sorry, man.  Did she find another guy?”

“Michael.  I am not discussing this with you.  And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss it with anyone else, either.”

“Oh, no.  Of course not, man.”

But, even as he’d said it, Michael had been craning his neck, looking around the office.  That was it, Jim was sure.  Michael told Kelly about the breakup three weeks ago.

And so for the two weeks preceding Jim’s second departure from Scranton, Pam spent her evenings grieving her impending loss.  But at work, she assumed the guise of the supportive friend.  Jim had made his decision and she didn’t want his final memories of her to be full of weeping and whining.  She would buck up so he’d remember that she’d been a good friend all the way to the end.

Pam endured those two weeks until the last day, but she just couldn’t make herself go to the farewell party for Jim and Karen.  She might’ve been able to do it if it had been just Jim leaving.  She suddenly felt in her gut why Jim had tried to escape to Australia for her wedding day; she understood the clandestine transfer to Stamford.  Pam felt a constant pressure on her heart, her head throbbed and her insides felt like they’d been run through a food processor.  She couldn’t keep anything down; her ribs and her throat were both sore from the constant heaving.  She couldn’t call him to say goodbye because she didn’t want him to hear her quivering and water-logged voice.  Instead, she sent him an email that didn’t say any of the things that she ardently wanted to tell him; it only said what her sense of propriety permitted.

From:    BeezKneez@gmail.com                                      
To:       Jim.Halpert@DunderMifflin.com
Sent:    Fri 05/18/2007
Subject: Good luck!

Jim:

I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it in today for your farewell party.  (I’m sure Michael will make it memorable.)

I want to wish you every success and happiness in your new life in New York.  I’ll miss you.

Love, Pam

She knew Jim saw it because she got a read receipt.  But he never replied.

Two years since they’d spoken a word and here Pam was sending him a picture that said she wanted to have his baby.  It was kind of creepy.  Stalkerish.  But then he’d definitely gone through his own stalker phase with her.  He thought about the many bonus gifts he’d stuffed into that teapot – and the years of obsession that they represented.  Pam definitely would’ve had every right to feel creeped out that Christmas.

Jim remembered watching those hands pull each little memento out of the teapot that they lovingly cradled in the picture.  As he looked at her hands and the teapot, Jim noticed her signature.  Beesly 11-09.  Nine months ago.  Somehow, that made it seem less creepy.  That was only a year after she’d left Dunder-Mifflin – about two and a half years after his promotion to New York.

Jim leaned back in his chair and considered the picture.  She drew it two and a half years after he’d left Scranton for good.  What would’ve happened if he’d listened to the optimistic side of him that wanted to punt on the interview and rush back to Pam?  Suddenly, he realized he was holding that future in his hands.  Two and a half years would’ve been plenty of time for a courtship, planning a wedding, and – depending upon how impatient they’d been – six to twelve months of marriage.  They could well have been starting a family – right now.  The picture was dated nine months ago.  That’d put them in the hospital right about now.  Maybe that’s what Pam was thinking about when she drew the picture.  Where they’d be if either of them had been truly brave in the spring of 2007.

Jim looked around his office.  If he had Pam, he wouldn’t have any of this, he probably wouldn’t even be at Dunder-Mifflin anymore.  He was sure he wouldn’t be a vice president of anything.  He loved this job, felt like he’d made a real contribution to turning the company around.  It was hard to regret that.

Well, maybe they could’ve tried the long distance thing for a while and Pam would’ve come to New York.  She would have found a decent art school in New York, right?  It was New York for God’s sake.  But that wasn’t what happened and there was no point in dreaming about what they could have done three years ago.

He shook his head.  That was all wrong.  When Pam drew this pastel nine months ago, it may well have been an ode to what might have been.  But the moment she decided to write that note and send the picture to him, it became an invitation to what might be.