JIM
Ten minutes later I’ve relegated myself to my car. I’m still wound up as all hell, but after getting laughed at by a group of stupid kids who caught me doing Rocky-like jogging and fist pumps - for maybe five seconds, okay? - when I walked out the door I figure I’m probably better off. Instead I’m here in the Saab, listening to Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” on repeat. I know the connotation’s a little…um…it’s heavy handed at times, yeah. But it’s really just one of my favorite songs and it suits my mood.
My mood that drops when I realize – finally – that I just asked Pam on a date and then walked right out of the office. No plan discussed. No time agreed on. Nothing.
What. A. Dork.
I pull out my cell phone and dial the number for the front desk, hoping she’s done with her interview. “Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam,” she answers, and – despite my better judgment – I’ve got to give Michael credit. You can definitely hear the difference when she has a smile on her face. My own smile widens in turn.
“Dunder Mifflin, this is Jim,” I reply. An oldie but a goodie.
“Hey.” The smile is still there.
“Hi.”
“Um, did you leave already?”
“Yeah. Well, kind of. I’m in the parking lot.”
“Oh.”
“I was trying to avoid questions or…whatever.”
“I completely understand.”
“Are the cameras right there?”
“Actually, no. Steve is packing up for the day. I’m kinda shocked.”
“Me too.”
“So you’re sitting in the parking lot, huh?” She’s holding back a laugh, no doubt at what a dork I just re-realized I am.
“Well, here’s the thing. Maybe you can help.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“I asked a girl in the office on a date for tonight, right?”
“Right. What’d she say?”
“Yes, amazingly enough.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you. Anyway, I was so caught up in the moment-”
“Understandably.”
“-and then excited she said yes I sort of forgot to actually make plans with her.”
“Ah. Rookie move.”
“You’re telling me. It’s embarrassing, really.”
“I’d be mortified!”
“That seems a bit harsh.”
“No, I think it fits.”
“Wow. You really think so?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
“Probably best I just scrap the whole thing at this point, huh?”
“I would.”
“Damn.”
“Sorry. Just my honest opinion.”
“So you don’t think this girl would have any interest in me picking her up at seven for dinner?”
“I doubt it. Well, wait, a casual dinner or a more formal one?”
“I was thinking casual.”
“Oh, yeah. Then it’s definitely over.”
“Oh well. Thanks for your advice, anyway.”
“No problem. If you need anything else, just call.”
“I’ll do that. I’ve got the whole night free, so…”
“Okay. Great. Take care.”
“Hey, you too.”
“Bye, Jim.”
“Later, Beesly.” I let out the laugh I’d bitten back through the whole conversation and start my car.
----
PAM
At 3:45 I knock softly at Michael’s door. He doesn’t respond. “Michael?” Still no answer. “Michael?” I try again, a little louder.
“What is it, Pam?”
“Can I come in?”
More nothing, then finally, “Yeah, I guess so.”
I open the door and step in quickly, shutting it again behind me. Michael’s just sitting there, his forehead resting on his desktop. I know things went badly for him today at corporate, and I really hate seeing him like this. I promise, on any other day I really would have done my best to cheer him up, but today…today’s a little different. Okay, more than a little. In the next three hours I have to get home, clean my apartment, take a shower, get ready and maybe take a minute or two to freak out. Could I do all of this in less time? Maybe. Do I want to? No. Enter Fancy New Beesly to try and get me out of here.
“Are you all right?” I ask quietly. He heaves a deep sigh and slowly raises his head.
“I’m fine,” he says in his way that suggests the exact opposite. Any other day, I swear I would have pressed it further.
“Okay, well, I was wondering-”
“Pam,” he interrupts, looking up at me sadly, “do you think they’re happy I’m back?”
“Who?”
He waves a hand towards the door. “Everyone. Stanley. Ryan. Everyone.”
Although I had fun with Dwight today, I’m pretty sure I was the only one. Besides Angela. “Of course, Michael,” I say as cheerily as possible.
“How can you be so sure?”
“It’s just…it wouldn’t be the same here without you.” That’s true enough.
“What’s better with me here?”
“Oh…everything. But Michael, I actually-”
Michael cocks his head to the side. “What do you really think of Jan, Pam?” he whispers. “Do you think we should be living together? Is it too soon for that?”
Oh no, I cannot start talking him through this now. I’m not even sure what’s going on. “Michael, I-”
“I mean, how do you really know? How can you? It seems like a good idea, but there are these…rules she has, and I think her pain killers from the boob surgery have made her crazy, and-”
“Michael, I’m sure everything will work out just fine, and I really think…that…Phyllis may be able to help you more with this. Being a newlywed and all.” Does that even make sense? Michael thinks about it for a minute and finally nods.
“Yeah, I guess she has been in more successful relationships than you lately.” I nod slowly. He sighs again, then smiles. “Fine. What do you need, Pam…Pam-a…Pam-Pam-a-Rama?”
Pam-Pam-a-Rama…Bananarama? Whatever. I figure it’s a good sign if he’s using a nickname. “I’m sorry, but I really need to leave early today. Doctor’s appointment.” If anyone can forge a good note, it’s Jim.
“Oh. Okay.” His face falls slightly. I do feel a little bad. Seriously, any other day!
“Thanks, Michael.” I give him my most consoling smile and try not to run back to my desk to grab my things.
----
I glance at my alarm clock again. It’s 6:24. I have a half hour or so until Jim gets here, and I’m standing in my bedroom in a bathrobe. I’ve been standing here for almost an hour, just staring into my closet. I hate it, but I’m stuck in the middle of the biggest cliché ever: I’m a girl with nothing to wear. Well, as it always goes with that cliché, it’s not exactly true. I have a closet full of clothes – a small closet – but most of those are my boring work things or bum-around sweats and pajamas. I’ve started branching out a little over the last few months, picking up a cute top every now and then on sale or at the outlets, but overall I’m still lacking in the fashion department. As much as Jim may have started liking me while I was in my cardigans and button up blouses, I’m pretty sure I don’t want him dating me in them.
Wow, did I just use “Jim” and “dating me” in the same sentence? It’s making me grin like a dork…and doing nothing for the nerves.
I need to make some sort of decision, and soon. Thankfully I’ve already straightened up the apartment (it doesn’t take long; I’ve only got four rooms), and done my makeup (again, not too time-consuming – if I’m lacking in fashion there’s no word for how little makeup I have!). I scan my closet again. Casual. Casual means…well, not dressy. Not looking like I tried too hard. But still cute. I shake my head, clenching and unclenching my hands a few times. I’m making this harder than it really is. Right? “Just pick something,” I mutter. Jim’s not going to leave me on my porch based on an outfit. Finally, I take a deep breath, step forward and reach for a shirt. Once it’s in my hand I study it critically.
It’s just a little white peasant top. Short sleeves. Some flowers embroidered around the neckline in blues and greens. Light weight but not see through. Cute. Not too fancy. Much different from what I wear everyday, but something I’ll still be comfortable in. I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
This is as good as it’s going to get.
Once I jump that hurdle the rest isn’t too bad. I put on a denim skirt and a pair of those cute little flats, both of which I find at the back of the closet - I bought them months ago but still haven’t worn either yet. Once it’s all on I step in front of my mirror. I look…different. Not bad. I need something, though. I dig through my jewelry box and find a small strand of turquoise beads from my mom that matches the embroidery in my shirt exactly. One more mirror check.
Standing here for so long makes me feel a little uncomfortable. I don’t usually spend much time in front of the mirror. Why would I? I work in an office where it’s definitely better to not get attention for how I look. I’m single now, but before that I was with the same person for nine years, and he wasn’t exactly the type that complimented me much. As I’m thinking about it, I realize that before today, there have really only been two other times in recent memory that I’ve spent so much time on my appearance. Once was for the casino night last year. The other was the day the Stamford people started in Scranton.
I can’t help but start blushing. All three of them revolve around Jim.
I press my hands to my cheeks to try and cool them, then run my hands through my hair. Out of sheer habit I was going to pull it back, but I like it better down. I can’t help but give mirror Pam a little smile. Do I sound too full of myself saying I think I look pretty? I look like the kind of girl I’ve been working to become all year: fun, confident and not willing to be a wallflower anymore. It feels strange admitting it, but I’m proud of myself.
I check my clock again: 6:48. I grab my cell phone from my night stand and head to the bathroom for one last spritz of perfume. I’ve kept the phone next to me all afternoon waiting for Jim’s second call. I’m not getting cocky; I’m just waiting for him to figure out he doesn’t know where I live.
And like that, the phone rings. I check the display and grin, although my heart starts pounding. “Hello?” I answer as I walk into the living room.
“Hey, Beesly.”
“Hey, Jim.”
“You’re not busy, are you?”
“Nope, not a thing going on.”
“Oh good. I think I need your advice again.”
I take a seat on the couch and start smoothing one of my throw pillows – I’ve got to channel my nervousness somehow. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Remember that date I was telling you about earlier?”
“Not really…wait, let me think for a minute…” I take a long pause.
“Hey, take your time,” he says and I hold in a laugh.
“Oh yeah, yup. I vaguely remember that now. The one you already screwed up?”
“That’s the one. I think I did it again.”
“Really? What’d you do now?”
“Well, I managed to set up a time, and I know where I’m going to take her, but…wow, this is so embarrassing.”
“No kidding.”
“I forgot to get directions to her place.”
“Oh, Jim.”
“I know, I know. What should I do?”
“Well, I guess if she’s still willing to go out with you, you should probably tell her where you’re at now so she could direct you.”
“Okay, so you’re saying I should let her know I’m currently at the mall?”
“Right. Hopefully then she’ll tell you she doesn’t live too far from there.”
“I can only hope. How close do you think she might be?”
“Only about ten minutes, I’d guess. Maybe in those apartments on Summit Pointe Drive?”
“Huh. Those are nice, I can totally see her living there.”
“She might even tell you she’s in apartment 323, and that it’s around the back of the complex.”
“That would be great if she shared that. Much better than knocking on random doors all night.”
“But I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”
“Oh no, I won’t.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“Thanks, Pam. That’s really nice of you. I appreciate that.”
“No problem.”
“You have a good night.”
“I’ll try.” I close the phone and sigh. So that’s it; now all I have left to do is wait. Of course that may be the hardest part of the day thus far. I look down and see I’m still smoothing the pillow like a crazy person. I consider doing one last mirror check, or maybe another walk through my apartment to make sure I haven’t overlooked anything, but instead I stay put on the couch with my pillow. What I really need to do is just calm down. It’s really kind of silly that I’m this nervous, anyway. After all, this is different than most first dates. We already know we get along. We know we have a lot to talk about – we have similar senses of humor, we have so many of the same interests, and we know a lot of the same people. And most importantly, we already know how we feel about each other. It’s more or less a formality, when you get right down to it.
Watching my hand shake just a little as I run it over the pillow, though, I know I’m doing an awful job convincing myself of that.
It’s not all nerves. I think I’m still sort of in shock. We’ve been joking around like we used to all the time, talking about this date like it doesn’t actually involve us going out. But it is us, and it is happening, and it all seems so…surreal. I mean really, how often does someone get something they’ve really, really wanted in life, something that for so long seemed impossible? Not like getting a Christmas present you’d really hoped for, or getting into the college you’d picked above any others. It’s more than that. I guess I originally felt that way about getting engaged to Roy, but more because it just seemed like it was the next logical step. It never seemed impossible. After everything Jim and I have been through in the past year, the two of us ever being together was about as unlikely as…well, something very unlikely. Since he came back from Connecticut it seems like all we’ve been doing is growing further and further apart. He was with someone else. For awhile, I was too. In the last few weeks we’ve hardly talked. Just six hours ago, with him as good as in New York already, I just assumed all hope was lost.
And yet…
“Are you free for dinner tonight?”
Five hours ago, he came back. To ask me that.
“All right. Then…it’s a date.”
Without warning I feel a tear rolling down my cheek, but I’m smiling as I wipe it away. This kind of thing just doesn’t happen. At least, not to me.
I’m not naïve. I know we have a lot to talking ahead of us – there’s so much to get caught up on, to explain, maybe even to apologize for. I know some of it will hurt to say, and some of it will hurt to hear. But maybe, no matter how hard the past year’s been, it’s for the best that this hasn’t happened until now, because I know I’m strong enough for all of it.
A knock interrupts my thoughts.
What I don’t know is if I trust my legs to get me to the door.
Author's Chapter Notes:
So...here's Chapter Two, and as promised Ms. Beesly shares her point of view. But first, a little more Jim...no complaints? Didn't think so. :)
