Big thank you to the best beta ever, Vampiric Blood.
One month later
Jim sat crosslegged on the floor in their furniture free apartment bedroom, going through a huge stack of Sports Illustrated magazines. It was Thursday evening, Pam was at her art class, and he was carefully picking out the issues he wanted to keep and putting them in a cardboard box. Okay, he was reading a lot of them, too, but there wasn’t really any hurry.
Things had been going great for them since Pam got back from New York. She’d loved that he bought the house whew, and they’d decided to go ahead and move in just two weeks later. The plan was to gradually move things over from the apartment before his lease ran out in six weeks. They figured if they were actually living in the house, they’d get more done on the fix it projects after work that way, and so far, the plan was working.
Of course, there were a lot of fix it projects to be done. Jim actually enjoyed working on the house, though. It was productive, and he could see the direct results of his work. Unlike selling paper.
His phone rang. “Hey,” he answered with a smile.
“What’s up? How is the magazine sorting coming?” Pam’s voice smiled back on the other end.
“Slowly. There is so much I’ve forgotten, so I have to read as I go,” he chuckled. “ Hey, I thought you were supposed to be drawing.”
“I am, but I’m taking a break. We’re drawing religious icons tonight, and I can’t get into them. I guess I’m just not that…religious.”
“Hmm, you sure sounded religious last night.”
“Oh shut up, you’re bad,” she scolded him.
“Again, not what you said last night,” he teased.
A loud gurgling noise interrupted their conversation. “What was that?” Pam asked.
“Umm. My stomach, I think.”
“Haven’t you eaten dinner yet?”
“Nope, what time is it?”
“7:30.”
“Wow, time got away from me. Guess I should go get something.”
“Thai?” she guessed.
Pam liked Chinese food, but for some reason, Jim had observed, she wasn’t that fond of Thai cuisine. Jim, on the other hand, really liked Thai food. That stuff with the peanut and coconut sauce? Wow. Conveniently, there was a place only a few blocks from the apartment, so a night of cleaning out the apartment by himself was always a good night for some satay. “Busted,” he acknowledged.
“Well, go ahead before you starve. I have to get back to class anyway. I’ll be home about 9:30.”
“I should be home by then,” and he added with an evil grin, “and I’m pretty sure I can help you with the religion thing.”
“You’re so dead, “ she said and hung up as he laughed.
His stomach growled again. Jim hoisted himself up and decided to just head out the back door with a big bag of trash and walk to the restaurant – it was only six blocks or so. It was a nice night and he needed to stretch his legs. He didn’t bother turning off the lights, because he’d be back shortly. He popped open his phone to order ahead as he walked.
Thirty minutes later he approached the apartment front door carrying a brown bag full of stuff that smelled really, really good. He’d even remembered to get utensils this time, since they’d already moved most of the kitchen stuff over to the house. He fished in his pocket for his keys with his free hand, and then he saw it. The front door to the apartment was already standing open. He looked at the street for Pam’s car, but it was nowhere to be seen. Shit. He sat his bag down on the lawn with the intent of barging right in, but then he hesitated and thought better of it. There was nothing of real value in the apartment – if this was a burglary, they weren’t going to get anything. He walked up several feet from the front door and yelled loudly, “Pam?!” just in case.
He heard a commotion, then a crash, and then the unmistakable sound of the back door slamming. He dialed the cops.
Another thirty minutes later, he stood with the police inside the ransacked apartment, staring in disbelief. The police guessed that since there wasn’t anything to steal, the angry crooks had trashed the place in a twisted retaliation. They had smashed some of the light fixtures, dumped some boxes out, broken the shower door glass, and destroyed a couple of pictures that were left hanging on the wall.
The police canvassed around the closely situated apartments, and one of their neighbors , a Steven Odell in 186, had seen a single dark figure running behind the apartments at about the right time. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten a good look. The police weren’t hopeful. This was probably going to be an unsolved break in. They were clearly surprised that someone would have broken in with the lights on, unless they somehow knew he’d left by the back door. The back door wasn’t visible from the front though, so how would that work? They were puzzled.
Jim’s phone rang – it was Pam, sitting at their house, wondering where he was – it was already 9:30. He broke the news to her, and she was as shocked as he was. Mr. Grafton, their efficient apartment manager, was already putting a new lock on the front door, so Jim picked up his bag of cold takeout and headed home. He could clean up tomorrow.
He pondered the whole thing on the way home. If he was honest with himself, he was more than a little shaken by this - because, well, what if Pam had been there by herself? He made a note to put another deadbolt on their house on both front and back doors, and was really glad he’d made the deposit on Pam’s birthday present. Not only was she going to love it, but it just became a lot more practical.
He and Pam talked the incident over at the house while he finally got a chance to eat his reheated Thai takeout. They concluded they were lucky they’d already moved everything out and hadn’t lost anything important. Mostly, they were glad they had made the decision to go ahead and move. Jim knew there was crime in Scranton, but after their experience in New York, this new violation left him unsettled on what had always felt like his own secure turf. The randomness of the break in was hard to accept, and both of them had trouble falling asleep – it was amazing how many noises there were in the house when you listened.
When it came right down to it, Jim couldn’t help but wonder if Ryan was back from Thailand. Maybe it was the food, Jim thought, trying to make light of the entire affair in his own mind. He wasn’t going to say anything to Pam, because there wasn’t anything objective to point toward, and it really didn’t make any sense at all. Still, maybe he would ask Kelly if Ryan was back yet. It wouldn’t hurt.
As it turned out, that wasn’t possible. Kelly was out sick on Friday and Jim and Pam yawned their way through the day. They kept the news of their break in to themselves to avoid all of Dwight’s inevitable comments. That evening, a couple of beers and the first half of a movie left them both asleep on the couch. They spent Saturday cleaning up the mess at the apartment and, as usual, working on the house. Pam’s birthday was Sunday, and she’d requested that they stay in except to pick up some Italian at her favorite place, so they wouldn’t have to cook. She had also insisted that he not get her anything expensive so they could put their money toward the house improvements. He’d almost complied, but he did have one little surprise. And boy was it a good one.
On Sunday about 5:30, it was time. “I’m going to go pick up the food, okay?” Jim asked, as Pam finished painting of the back wall of the kitchen a nice clean ivory.
“Okay, I’m nearly done here. I’ll get cleaned up while you’re gone because I know I have paint all over me. “ She blew a stray loose hair out of her face. “What are we watching tonight?”
“It’s your birthday, Pam. You choose. I’ll watch anything you want. Except Project Runway,” he added as a disclaimer.
“What are you smiling about?” Pam asked. “Do I have paint on my face? Where is it?” She swiped at her face with a used rag, making a new blotch of ivory on her cheek.
“Oh, nothing,” he answered. She didn’t believe him, but that was part of the fun. “Be sure and lock the door behind me, will you?” he cautioned as he left.
He picked up the order at the restaurant, but he made one other stop on the way home. When he got to the house, he carried the food into the kitchen, and noticed a paint free Pam sitting on the couch, feet up, sipping a glass of wine. She started to get up, but he stopped her. “Just wait there Pam, I have a little surprise. Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say.”
“But...”
“Just do it, okay?”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes. “What are you doing, Jim? Boy that food smells good.”
“I’ll be right back, keep your eyes closed.”
He walked back out to the car, and brought in her present. He made his way over to the couch, laid the wiggling 8 week old German Shepherd puppy in her lap, and said, “Open your eyes. Happy Birthday!”
He felt giddy as he watched her face light up.
“Oh my God, Jim! A puppy. Oh, he’s so cute. Oh my God.” She lifted the puppy up and looked him in the face.
He thought for a minute she was going to cry, but she held it together nicely. He couldn’t stop smiling and the puppy’s tail never stopped wagging.
“I’ve got a crate and pad out in the garage to bring in,” he explained as she stroked the pup. “We can keep the crate in the laundry room, and there’s already the dog run in the back yard for while we’re gone during the day – I can fix it right up in half an hour. I figured we may as well go ahead and get him now, before we have the floors redone, you know?”
“Oh Jim, he’s adorable. I’m so happy. He’s perfect. He’s wonderful.” The puppy seemed to have the same opinion of Pam, as he’d already curled up in her lap as she petted him. “What should we name him?” she asked.
“Let’s see if he names himself - give it a couple of days?”
“Right.”
“There’s a bag of puppy chow and some bowls in the car. He needs a collar though. His dad was a search and rescue dog, so he should be a smart one” Jim reached down and gave his fuzzy head a scratch. “C’mon, let’s eat while it’s hot and we can fix his stuff after.”
She scooped the puppy into her arms, followed him into the kitchen, and stood watching him unpack the food. When he looked up he noticed a question on her face.
“What?” he fished.
“Jim.” She paused. “Was this,” she lifted the pup slightly, “because of the break in?”
“Nope. Had planned it before, “ he said as he placed the containers on the table. “I already had a deposit down on this little guy. The protection thing is a plus, though.”
She giggled as the pup starting licking her hand, and said, “Well, best birthday ever – thank you for….” and then more seriously, “…everything. The house, the puppy, all this…”and then she added quietly, “…you.” Pam leaned toward him until her shoulder touched his upper arm ever so lightly.
He looked up at her again from his unpacking. “And I thought it might be good practice, you know. See if we’re responsible parent types,” he delivered the loaded comment, and watched for her reaction.
She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips in thought, letting the subtext linger. “Not a bad idea,”
He smiled and finished arranging their dinner on the table while she cuddled the pup. When he opened the foil around the garlic butter breadsticks, the wafting smell made them sigh simultaneously, “Mmmm.” He broke off a piece of breadstick and mashed it into the spare melted garlic butter.
“Open up,” he said, because her hands were occupied.
She complied and he held the breadstick while she bit off a piece, and then popped the rest of the bite into his own mouth.
As they sat down to their meal there was no doubt about it, Jim reflected. He loved Italian food.
Monday at work was a surprisingly busy day, but Jim finally got a chance to approach Kelly in the break room just before five. She was still a little cool toward him since he’d told her to shut up that time at Poor Richard’s, even though he’d apologized. He didn’t worry about it too much because frankly, having Kelly not talk to you wasn’t altogether a bad thing. Still, if anybody would know if Ryan was back, it would probably be her, so he asked.
“Kelly, say, have you heard anything about Ryan Howard being back from his trip?” he asked, trying to be casual as he got a soda for the ride home.
Her face lit up and he had his answer. “Ooooh, did you know? He got back early last week! He called me to let me know.” But then she became suddenly serious. “Jim?”
“Yeah, Kelly, what is it?”
“Ryan’s…different. I don’t know. Weird.”
“Umm, what do you mean?” Jim asked, trying to nonchalantly draw more information out.
“He’s…he says he’s found God.”
Jim’s jaw dropped. “Ryan Howard? Ryan Howard that used to work here?”
Kelly shot him a dirty look.
“Sorry. It’s just. Really?”
“I asked him to come over but he wouldn’t. He said he couldn’t hook up anymore. That people shouldn’t hook up until they were married.” Kelly looked a little forlorn. “He did say he wanted to talk to you – to apologize - but he wouldn’t tell me why and made me promise not to tell you.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Whoops. I just told you. Oh well.”
“No, Kelly, it’s all right. I’m sure he’ll…get in touch with me when he’s ready,” Jim said carefully, trying to remember if Kelly knew they’d moved. Jim popped his soda open, and headed for the door. “Hey, thanks. I won’t tell him you told me, okay?”
“Oh, thanks Jim,” she said with a big smile. He had a feeling he was forgiven completely now. Oh well.
On the way home in the car, Jim told Pam about Ryan. She was incredulous.
“Ryan Howard found God? Wow. Do you suppose that’s true? Or something he’s just telling Kelly? Or maybe he's...you know...gone off the deep end.”
They were both contemplating that possibility in eerie silence, when Pam’s phone rang.
“Hello,” Pam answered.
“Oh, hi Alex,” she made a face that said, “Yikes” to Jim. “Um, no, haven’t talked to you in awhile. How are you?”
Jim wiggled his eyebrows, and she swatted him while she listened.
“No, I didn’t get the exhibit information. We’ve moved – we bought a house. Yeah, so maybe it came to the apartment – they’re supposed to forward stuff but sometimes it doesn’t make it,” she explained and then listened before she replied, “Wow, that sounds amazing. Yes, I’d love to see it. When? Friday? This Friday? Hang on.” She placed her hand over the cell phone.
“Jim, there’s a great private impressionist exhibit Friday in New York and Alex has two extra invitations we could have. Do you want to go?”
Not really. he thought because that went so well last time, too but he came through with a quick save. “Pam, I have to finish that electrical stuff before Saturday because the heating and air contractor’s coming by to look at the garage, so I don’t think I could make it. Why don’t you ask Ginna from your art class and see if she wants to go?”
Pam’s face lit up at the idea. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“No, I’ve got Voldemort to keep me company.”
She swatted him again. “We’re not naming him Voldemort.”
“Well, so far, he’s the pup who can not be named.” Pam must have gone through two hundred possible names so far, and none of them stuck.
“Shush, not now,” she said in mock irritation as she returned to her phone conversation. “Yes, I’d love to come. I have a friend from my art class who’d like to come with me, is that okay?” She waited for his response and then continued, “No, Jim is working on the house Friday night.” More talking. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s great,” she said, and made another “yikes” face at Jim. “You draw your own Christmas cards?” “Yeah, sure…” and Pam reeled off their new address for him, and then copied the address of the exhibit down for Friday. She finished the conversation with, “Wow, Alex, thanks so much. We’ll see you there Friday about nine,” and then snapped her phone shut.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked immediately.
“Not at all. I think it’s a great idea.”
“We’re not naming him Voldemort,” she grumbled.
“I know,” he said quickly.
They sat in silence for a moment and then Pam added, “Alex was really talking a mile a minute. He was going on about how well he was doing this semester. I don’t know, kind of...braggy.”
“Maybe he’s focusing better now that you’re gone.”
“You are so mean.”
“Nope. I was serious. You’re distracting.” He grinned.
She gave him a look and then went on brightly, “I am excited about seeing this. Thanks,” she said, beaming and she gave him a peck on the cheek.
Was it weird that he enjoyed making her happy? He didn’t care. He did. Plus, he got out of going to New York to an art show. Win win win, he thought, pleased with himself as they pulled into the driveway. They were home.
To be continued...
A picture of young “Voldemort”:
