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Jim was standing waist deep in dark, mirky lake water, his feet mired in the mud bottom. He desperately clung to Pam’s ankle, keeping her from being pulled upward. Ryan and Alex, each wearing Statue of Liberty hats, and each holding of one of her arms, were trying to pull her up into their elaborately decorated room, high above the swamp. He couldn’t see her face, and she wasn’t saying anything. And the class bell kept ringing, ringing, ringing, louder and louder.
At that point Jim awoke, and realized that Pam’s dorm room phone was ringing. A groggy glance confirmed that Pam was still asleep, oblivious to the sound that was jangling in his head. He rose and groped around in the dark until he found the receiver.
“’lo,” he mumbled gruffly and then more clearly, “Hello?”
Muffled laughter was the only answer.
“Who is this?” he asked, now fully alert.
“Hey Jim buddy.” It was Ryan Howard, and he was definitely under the influence. “How’s your head, brother Jim? Did you have a great party?” he laughed. “Because we did.”
How’s my head. How’s my HEAD? So. It had been Ryan in the parking lot. Or one of his friends more likely, Jim thought, because he doubted the little prick had the nerve to actually hit him or anyone else with a baseball bat.
“Ryan, you’re absolutely going to jail for this.”
“No, Jim the paper salesman, no, I’m not. I’m just calling a friend. In thirty minutes I’ll be on a plane to Thailand. I’m at Kennedy right now, sweet spot.” Ryan laughed too loudly, out of control. Wow, Ryan was well and truly messed up. “Our international flight is running late, so I called to see how you and Pam were.” Another laugh and some muffled voices. “Wait, they’re calling our boarding group. One last try - let Pam stay in New York, Jim. She belongs here and you...you just don’t. Ciao, baby.”
Jim was left literally in the dark, holding the phone, as he heard a click on the other end of the receiver. He was furious, but he realistically accepted that there was no way he could vent that right now. So, he simply hung up the phone, feeling pretty helpless. The clock said 5:37 am as he slid back into the tiny bed beside Pam. Now that the adrenaline wasn’t flowing, his sore spots began to ache as he mentally worked to put this all into perspective. He had been prepared to blow off the attack in the parking lot as a random crime, but Ryan’s words left little to doubt. How like him to claim credit and run, Jim thought.
Still, he was surprised. He could have been seriously hurt if the English guy hadn’t been in the parking lot. Or if the first blow hadn’t been a shared hit partly onto his shoulder, it could have easily cracked his head open. Yes, Ryan’s friends were out of control and dangerous, that was for sure. Pam stirred for a moment, interrupting his thoughts, and Jim thought she might wake up, but she quickly settled back into sleep. She must have really been sleep deprived, he mused.
He wondered if Ryan had lied about having nothing to do with following Pam as well. He’d accepted Ryan’s denial in the break room initially, but now he wasn’t sure. Maybe one of Ryan’s friends had been behind that as well. The one good thing about this was that Ryan Howard had just left the country, and they wouldn’t have to worry about his crazy antics any more. And Jim did believe the plane story, because he could hear the airport loudspeakers during Ryan’s call. Good riddance, Jim thought as he sank into a fitful sleep.
*****
Pam was screaming.
He was jolted awake by her shrieks of, “Jim! JIM!” He was on his feet instantly, instinctively reaching for the lamp base. He squinted against the sunlight beaming in between the blinds in the room, trying to identify what was wrong.
His eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw her horrified expression. She was pointing at the pillow on the bed, which was stained with blood in several places. Her expression changed to dismay as she watched him slowly put down the lamp and smile.
It was his blood, Jim realized. The cut on the back of his head must have oozed onto the pillow as he slept. Giddy and sleep deprived, he almost laughed, but he stopped himself because poor Pam was so upset. She knew nothing about the happenings of the previous night. The last thing she probably remembered was him carrying her upstairs, if she remembered that much.
He set about calming her. “Pam, Pam, it’s okay,” he said quietly and evenly.
“It’s not okay! There’s blood all over the place. Are you hurt? What’s going on? Why is there blood on my pillow?” An upset Pam reeled off questions rapidly from her seat on the bed. She was still wearing that amazing blue dress from last night, and as Jim looked down at her he couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty in her concerned face. God, he’d missed her.
Impulsively, he reached down, gathered her into his arms, and soundly kissed her. A very pleasant and effective way to get her to quiet down, he thought, and he congratulated himself on his resourcefulness. She hesitated but then responded to kiss him back, and she reached around the back of his head. He winced as her hand brushed his cut, causing her to pull back and stare at her hand in concern and confusion.
“Jim?” she asked incredulously. “What happened? Did you fall out of bed and hit your head?” she was still very upset, but at least she wasn’t screaming. He resisted the urge to just kiss her again.
Instead, he sat down on the bed next to her. “It’s just a little cut on the back of my head, Pam, let me explain. You slept through a lot. Do you have a headache – a hangover?”
Pam opened and closed her eyes as she took stock. “No, I...” she looked down and noted she was still in her dress from last night “...I guess I was really tired. I remember getting into the cab at the museum. How did I get up here?"
“I carried you.”
“You did?” She took a moment. “I actually feel great, really. . .rested. So what happened, are you sure you’re okay? Because you don’t look okay. I didn’t kick you out of bed did I?” A new panic flooded her face. “Let me see your head.”
“In a minute, but will you let me explain?” he scolded. “You’re going to have to let me talk here, Pam.”
“Sorry, okay.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“We were at the museum, and you had another drink and it went right to your head. I decided we needed to get going before you did, you know, a Dundee or something. So, we got a cab back here. You’re with me to that point, right?”
She nodded, blushing slightly . “Yes, I remember the cab. Wow, I’d only had two drinks. I guess I was really tired.”
“Gross understatement, “ Jim allowed. “Just listen. We got out of the cab and and you weren’t walking very well, so I carried you up here. But when we got here, we couldn’t find your keys, so I had to go down and get the desk person to open your room.”
“Oh yikes.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Yeah, you were lying here in the hall asleep,” he chuckled, remembering the sight. “Anyway, she let us in and I got Sleeping Beauty – he gestured in her direction - into bed. Then I realized I didn’t have my clothes and my toothbrush and stuff – because I’d gone straight from my car to the museum. I decided to go out to the car to get it, but I didn’t have your keys so I just stuck one of your shoes into the door to hold it open while I was gone.”
“Did you run into something?”
“Just shut up and let me tell the story, Pam,” he said with mock irritation.
“I just want to know,” she said, a little petulant.
He ignored her comment and continued. “So I get to my car, I get out my dufflebag, and I see this man across the parking lot yelling at me. And then “Wham,” somebody hits me upside the head from behind.”
“Oh my God, Jim!”
“Next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground and the yelling guy was there asking if I was okay. Apparently somebody had hit me with a baseball bat, but they took off when they saw him. The guy was a professor here at Pratt – a British guy - he gave me his card. He wanted to call the police, but I knew your door was unlocked, and I knew they’d never catch the person who did it anyway, so I came back up here. Luckily, you were safe - and snoring loudly, I might add,” he interjected.
“Let me see your head. That’s what the blood is from?”
“Yeah, it’s a little cut. Just bled a lot. Head cuts do that.”
“I can’t believe this. Nobody’s been bothered in the parking lot the whole time I’ve been here.” She reached up and turned his head so she could finally see the cut. “Oh Jim, it’s, like, at least an inch long and you need stitches. And there’s a big lump. Does it hurt?” she asked sympathically.
“Not too bad.” His ribs and shoulder actually were a lot worse, but he decided not to get into that right now.
“We need to go and get it….”
“I’ll go when we get back to Scranton,” he talked over her. “Now shush, I’m not done, “ he said with a half smile.
“So I cleaned up and got ready for bed, but I was still a little spooked,” Jim watched her nod in understanding. “Plus, your keys were missing and I was paranoid about that, too. So I put a chair against the door.” He paused. “Then, I was nearly asleep when I heard a key turn in the door. I grabbed the base of your lamp as a weapon, and opened the door.” He reinacted the scene with his hands.
Pam was wide-eyed now.
“As it turns out, it was just Alex, and I nearly bashed him in the head with the lamp. Your keys had dropped out of your purse or jacket at the museum, and he was bringing them back – said he was just going to drop them into the room. So we had a nice little chat and he left.”
At this point, Pam’s mouth was just hanging open.
“Oh there’s more. I finally went back to sleep, and then your phone rings about 5:45 or so, right in the middle of a dream I was having about people trying to pull you out of a swamp. “
“Oh no, was it…the breather?”
“Yes and no. No heavy breathing this time, but it was Ryan. And I’m pretty sure he just wanted to let me know that he or one of his friends was the mugger in the parking lot.”
“Holy shit, he admitted that?”
“He asked if I had a headache.”
Pam’s temper flared. “Why that little..”
“Yeah,” Jim interrupted again. “I agree. But get this. He was at the airport and leaving for Thailand, and he was high on something. I’m not sure he’ll even remember what he said.
“The next time I see him I’m going to...” she started angrily.
“..you’re going to have to push me out of the way to get to him first.” Jim said without humor. “But look at it this way, he’s gone, and you’re safe, and there’s nobody after you…” Jim’s voice trailed off. “I was really worried about you, Pam.”
The look of appreciation on her face was unmistakable, and she leaned over to give him a long, expressive kiss. When their lips parted, she said softly. “Take me home.”
She had no idea how much he wanted to do just that. His voice caught a little as he pulled her near, and whispered simply, “Okay,” into her curls.
She sighed. “Let me take a quick shower and get some jeans on. Then we can pack up the cars, and maybe stop for breakfast on the way to Scranton?” she suggested.
“Perfect.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“Yikes. Keisha, Alex, and Alice are coming by at nine to help us load the cars and say bye,” she said, as she sprang to her feet and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Pam, my shirt’s in the sink soaking the blood out,” he called after her. He didn’t want to precipitate another screaming episode. Jim was actually pretty darn done with talking to Alex, but this would go quickly, he thought. Pam’s friends might be some help, he thought, when he really considered it . He wasn’t sure how much he could carry at a time with his gimpy shoulder.
Jim heard a timid knock at the door about ten after nine, and he got up to answer the door. Sure enough, it was Alice and Keisha, and he let them in, leaving the door open.
“Pam, you were wasted last night, honey, “Alice kidded, “worse than that night we went to Franco’s,” she finished, as Pam emerged from the bathroom. Jim wondered if that was the night she'd butt dialed him.
“Shut up,“ Pam laughed sheepishly.
“Bet you slept well,” grinned Keisha, wiggling her eyebrows.
Alex appeared in the open door and Jim turned away to busy himself, putting a few of Pam’s things into a cardboard box.
“Jim!” Alice exclaimed suddenly. “What happened to you…..your head?” she sputtered.
Jim turned to her and caught Alex’s eye as he answered matter of factly, “I was trying to cut off my ear last night, you know, like Van Gogh, and the knife sort of..I don't know...slipped."
Alice and Keisha stood speechless, but after a moment of stunned surprise, Alex cracked up.
“Pam,” he laughed, “you failed to mention that the man from Scranton is quick.”
Poor Alice and Keisha still wore puzzled expressions and Jim added, “No, not really. Somebody mugged me in the parking lot last night.” And without missing a beat, he continued, “Pam, do you want this box in your car or mine?”
“In the Pratt parking lot?” Alice asked.
“Yup,” he acknowledged as he picked up a box. “Which car?” He was anxious to get this show on the road.
With five people they had everything loaded in a couple of trips, and now they were all gathered in the parking lot. Jim stood wedged in the open driver’s door of his Saab. “Bye, Alice, Keisha,“ he waved over to where they were standing beside Pam’s car. “I’ll follow you, Pam,” he called to her. Alex approached him and shook his hand. “Good luck, Alex,” Jim offered.
“Thanks, man,” Alex replied, and as he did, he reached to enthusiastically clasp Jim squarely on his sore shoulder. Jim grabbed the top of his door to prevent his knees from giving way, and he eased himself rapidly down into the driver’s seat, hiding his grimace as best he could. “Take good care of Pam.” Alex added.
“I will,” Jim responded through clenched teeth. Alex stepped back so Jim could close the car door, and walked over toward Pam. She said her goodbyes, and finally they were off.
They decided to stop at exit 17 for breakfast. Jim knew he should be tired, but the combination of his physical discomforts – the seatbelt hit at a bad place over his ribs – and replaying the bizarre events of this weekend kept him awake. He was still finding it hard to fathom that Ryan, or at least one of his drug buddies, had actually attacked him so viciously.
More troubling to him was the feeling that he and Pam weren’t quite right yet - something was off. He found himself second guessing whether she wanted to leave New York. He clung to her obvious concern for him, but the truth was, her request to “take me home” was about the only thing that was keeping him together this morning.
Even at the breakfast stop he couldn’t deny the feeling that he was escaping with something he’d stolen and that he needed to hurry and get farther away – all the way home – before he got caught. He sipped a second cup of coffee as Pam finished her eggs.
“So, are we going to the ER for those stitches first?” she asked, as she chewed a last bit of toast.
Jim groaned at the thought of sitting in the Mercy ER for forever and then he thought of something. “Hey, Dr. Lawson has Saturday hours.” Ten minutes and three phone calls later, he had an appointment for noon, and they had just enough time to make it.
Pam was amazed. “I didn’t know you even had a doctor.” She was surprised they’d never talked about it, but Jim hadn’t been really sick in the five years she’d known him.
“Well, um…I’ve known him for a long time.”
“What kind is he? I mean, surgeon, or what kind?”
Jim felt a little sheepish. “No.”
Pam’s expression pressed him for a better answer. “He’s…um. My…um...” he almost swallowed the last word as he spoke it….”pediatrician.”
Pam laughed. “Your pediatrician. That’s funny! No, what kind is he, really, because I….” her voice trailed off as she took in the look on his face.
“Oh my God! You’re serious! We’re going to a pediatrician’s office?”
He could feel his face flush, but he had to admit it was kind of funny,. “Yeah, maybe I should act, you know, slow. And you could hold my hand in the waiting room,” he grinned, deciding to run with the joke.
Pam started to giggle and suddenly they were completely back in step. The three months of distance and strain just evaporated as they laughed together. Jim did his Kevin impression, and that made her giggle even more – he was sure the other patrons in the diner were staring but he didn’t care. He loved making her laugh.
The seatbelt didn’t annoy him nearly as much on the rest of the ride home. They stopped at the pediatrician’s office, and left with four stitches, a tetanus shot, and two lollipops, one grape and one cherry.
Only then did they finally arrive in front of his apartment. Their apartment. Home. Well, actually he’d just bought his parent’s house, but he thought he’d wait a couple of days before he told her about that…he wondered if he’d done the right thing. He truly did not have the energy to sweat that right now. Next week for that one.
Jim unlocked the door and looked down at Pam. He didn’t know if she realized what a momentous occasion this was for him. The wedding would be the official commitment, of course, but he really felt that this moment was THE moment for him. She’d spent plenty of nights here, with him, but this felt different. Permanent. She was coming home. To him. Their eyes met and he deliberately reached his hand out to her. She nodded her head in a small “yes”, taking his hand, and they walked in the door together.
Jim had done some preparation on Thursday, before he left. There was vase with fresh daisies on the little foyer table and he enjoyed the look on her face when she read the card. “I love you too, she said, beaming. “It’s so good to be home, “ she added, and he beamed back.
They decided to go ahead and get the unloading over with, which took a lot longer with just the two of them. Afterward they sat together in the small kitchen, eating sandwiches. The prior evening was starting to catch up with Jim. His eyelids drooped and his ribs ached. “Pam, this isn’t exactly how I wanted this day to go, but I think I need a shower and a nap,” he admitted.
“Sure,that’s fine. I totally understand. I’ll clean up here and I can be unpacking some of my stuff while you sleep. When you get up, we’ll figure out dinner?”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully, and headed off for the shower.
Twenty minutes later, Jim stood, towel around his waist, rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink.
The hot water hadn’t improved his physical discomforts as much as he would have liked, and he needed some relief.
“Pam,” he called out to her. “Did you take that big orange bottle of Motrin to New York? Because I’m not seeing it in here.”
“No, I don’t have it, “ she called back from the living room. He heard her footsteps approach the bathroom. “Did you look behind…..” she said and then he heard a small cry of surprise.
He turned to see her in the doorway, a shocked expression on her face. “Your shoulder, what happened….” When he turned, she must have seen the bruises over his ribs as well, because she added, “Oh my. Jim!” He watched the cogs in her head working it out and she asked, “Last night?”
“Yup. Guy was a freaking Babe Ruth.”
She approached him gingerly for a close up look. “Did you show these to the doctor?”
“Nope. The shoulder’s just bruised, but it’s pretty sore. I think the ribs might be broken but there’s nothing to be done about them. My dad fell on the ice a few years ago and broke his, and they Xrayed them and told him to wait six weeks. Not like they can put a cast on them.” He shrugged the “other” shoulder.
“I’m so sorry…”
“Not your fault and it’ll all heal. But I would like to find the Motrin.”
“Oh, right.” She shooed him out of the way so she could get to the cabinet, and five seconds later, Pam held the bottle.
“Y chromosome blindness,“ she smiled, but gently. “Two?”
“Better make it four.”
She winced in sympathy.
“Didn’t help that Art Boy slapped me on that shoulder this morning. He didn’t know, but it did not feel good,” he admitted as he swallowed all four tablets together.
She motioned him toward the bedroom. “Come on, you’ll feel better after a nap. His name is Alex by the way. Look I know you think he had a thing for me but honestly, I think he just wanted to be friends,” she added as they entered the bedroom.
Pam turned down the bed for him. “Here, give me the towel, it's wet.”
“Are you just trying to take advantage of me, Pam?” he asked playfully, blushing a little in spite of himself.
”Don’t worry, I’m not going to attack you every time I see you naked, Jim.”
He let his face fall in disappointment to get the laugh, and then added in an earnest voice,“Seriously, Pam, I’m not sure I’m up to...with this shoulder...” He knew it wouldn’t support his weight, and he didn’t want to bungle through homecoming sex.
“I know. It’s okay. You can make it up to me later,” she teased. “Just get in there.”
He slipped carefully into bed, lying on his back, and allowed her to fuss over him. She created a gap with pillows for his shoulder, and it did take the pressure off of it very nicely. He wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t enjoying her attentions.
“You’re wrong about Art Boy, you know. I can prove it,” he said, as she finished arranging the pillows. “He told me in the hall, last night.”
“He told you? He told You?"
“He declared his feelings for you, and he told me I had no idea how hard it was having a crush on someone already engaged.” Jim smiled a smug and satisfied smile as he settled his head into the pillow.
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Did you tell him that. . .”
“Nope.” He knew where she was going with that. “Sensitive state secrets such as that are revealed only on a “need to know” basis. Only discreet agents such as Michael Scarne are privy to that kind of information.” They laughed together, recalling how he’d once confided in Michael, of all people. “Ow, laughing makes my ribs hurt, and I’m tired of talking about Art Boy.”
“Poor baby” she teased as she reached down to barely touch his bruised ribs with her lips. “Does this help?” Her lips travelled lightly across to his skin to his navel. “Better?” she asked in a voice colored with naughty.
“Pam, I’m serious, I don’t think I can...” he started anxiously, but she interrupted him.
“Shush. I’m not asking you to do anything. Just shut up, lie there, and relax.”
He obeyed, and took a quick breath in as her kisses travelled down that line of hair below his navel. As she touched him, her intentions became perfectly clear, and he reflected that things were definitely looking up. After which he silently added to himself, “That’s what she said.”
And then, Jim stopping thinking at all.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Some things are revealed.
The chapter title is from an original Harry Connick, Jr. song. Angela would be proud.
The chapter title is from an original Harry Connick, Jr. song. Angela would be proud.
Chapter End Notes:
I wasn't that happy with this chapter, it needed to transition a lot of ideas and I think it was too long and wordy, but I couldn't figure out another way to do it.
*whines* (Any suggestions or constructive criticisms would be appreciated.)
One final chapter planned, and there should be a lot more action. No, no, not that kind.
The scary stuff isn't quite over for Jim and Pam.
The scary stuff isn't quite over for Jim and Pam.
