-----
Nice, Halpert. You’ve really done it now.
I banged my hip on the edge of my desk and barked out a curse as I stumbled to the bathroom in search of aspirin, which I knew already wasn’t going to do anything to stop the throbbing behind my eyes. I poured out three tablets into my hand and tried to dry-swallow them, but one got stuck in my throat and that horrible dry chalk made me choke until I forced it down with a few handfuls of tepid water.
Mark, you fucking cheapskate, can’t you ever buy the coated stuff?
I gripped the counter and stared at my haggard reflection.
I wasn’t always like this. I used to be happy. I used to enjoy things. I used to go to movies and listen to music and play the guitar and read Bukowski. Now it seems like all I do is think about Pam. I don’t enjoy anything the way I used to unless she’s with me, and outside of work, that’s pretty much…never.
Hopeless. Pathetic.
I hung up on her. I’ve never done anything like that before, ever. But I can’t take this anymore. The starts and stops and almost-truths; I can’t live like this. All along I’ve been so afraid of fucking up our friendship and being left without even that, incomplete and insufficient as it is, and now I’ve gone and ruined it all anyway.
She’ll never say it. Never. Give it up, you pathetic fuck.
I wanted to go over there and see her. I wanted to force her to admit that it wasn’t all in my head. I wanted to shake her until her tongue came loose and spilled out the truth. I wanted to feel, just once, her face in my hands, and hold her against me, and kiss her senseless until she just…surrendered.
Excellent plan. It’s foolproof!
I smiled sourly at my reflection and splashed handfuls of water on my face, then gave up and dunked my head under the tap. Flipping my hair back, I shook my head furiously, flinging water everywhere.
Still drunk.
I went back to my room and fell onto my bed, willing sleep to take me. But my mind wouldn’t give me any rest, and I lay there staring at the ceiling with the phone in my hand, alternately debating calling her back and wondering if she’d call me, until I couldn’t take it anymore and went back downstairs.
The bottle of Cuervo was empty. Probably for the best. I poured a glass of orange juice instead and took it into the living room, clicking on the TV just to have somewhere to put my eyes. It was nearly one in the morning, so there wasn’t much on, but Adult Swim was always diversionary. I’d tried explaining Aqua Teen Hunger Force to Pam once but I got only as far as “Meatwad” before she dissolved into giggles and I had to give up.
Stop thinking about Pam.
Right.
------
For at least ten seconds, I thought the knocking had been some part of the cartoon that my confused brain wasn’t comprehending. But then it came again, just two short little raps.
My feet got tangled in the blanket as I tried to get up, and it seemed to take a long time for me to extricate myself and make my way to the door. By then my heart was pounding and I was shot through with a wave of desperate hope as I reached for the handle.
It’s not Pam it’s not Pam she wouldn’t come here it’s the middle of the night don’t be stupid it’s not Pam.
But it was Pam. Right there, on my doorstep.
She looked up at me with wide eyes, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. She was wearing jeans and a moss-green shawl I’d never seen before, and her hair was down, and she was so beautiful I couldn’t speak, just stared at her stupidly.
“You look terrible,” she said finally, frowning at me.
I ran a hand through my hair, which, judging from the smirk that replaced her frown, only made it worse. “Can I come in?” she asked quietly.
I nodded, my tongue still frozen to the roof of my mouth, and stood aside to let her in.
She waited in the entrance, rubbing her arms, looking around nervously as I shut the door behind her. I gestured to the couch, and she moved toward it uncertainly, veering at the last second to take the chair instead.
I perched on the edge of the couch, waiting. I had a thousand questions, relevant questions like what are you doing here? But as the silence stretched out and she avoided my eyes, staring down at her hands, fiddling with her ring, I heard myself ask, “Do you want… something to drink?”
She shook her head, still not looking at me.
I sighed and leaned back into the cushions. Tired, still a little drunk, not entirely in control of my tongue, I said, “What do you want?”
She looked up and met my eyes with what appeared to be some difficulty; she looked like she wanted to bolt, but was forcing herself to stay put. She licked her lips, swallowed, and then whispered, “It meant something.”
I stared at her, my heart starting to hammer triple-time again. “It did.”
She held my gaze, her eyes wide and frightened, and nodded almost imperceptibly.
A surge of wild hope bloomed up in my chest, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral. Don’t push. Let her speak. Oh, Jesus, is she…?
“I’m getting married,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m not supposed to be thinking about…” She shook her head, looking down again. “This,” she finished helplessly, waving at the space between us.
This. The unspoken thing, the bond, the connection we never talked about. I felt suddenly light, like something huge and heavy had dropped away from me at the acknowledgment of its existence.
She took a deep, quavering breath and met my eyes. “Roy’s my fiance,” she said firmly.
And just like that, I fell back to earth with a thud.
She’d come here to remind me of my place. There was no space for this in her life. Whatever this was, to her.
“Right.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
She tilted her head and looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher, a mixture of sadness and anger and confusion in her eyes I’d never seen before. “I don’t understand you,” she frowned.
I frowned back at her. What couldn’t she understand? Did I have to fall to my knees and beg?
“Did it mean anything...to you?” Her eyes didn’t leave mine, but she was twisting her ring, back and forth, back and forth.
I stared at her, incredulous. Did it mean anything to me? Was she serious?
“You said you were over it.” She stopped playing with her ring and crossed her arms, holding her elbows. “You said you were totally over it.”
What…?
Oh, fuck. I’m such an idiot.
She stared at me levelly, pinning me there with her eyes. “Are you? Over it?”
God, I was terrified to answer. This could be the end of everything, or the beginning of something, and looking into her eyes I had no idea which it would be. She had never been so unreadable.
Tell her the truth. Just once, tell her the truth.
I shook my head, just barely, and somehow found my voice, though it wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I’m in love with you.”
She went pale, her eyes widening in shock. It didn’t look to be a happy kind of shock.
Instantly the panic set in, and I cast about wildly for some way to qualify it, but it was too late; for better or worse, it was out there now. I looked down at my bare feet on the carpet, unable to meet her gaze, and wondered briefly if that job in Maryland was still open. I couldn’t face the pity I knew I’d find in her eyes.
I saw her feet move in their fur-lined clogs (never seen those before), heard her get up, and I clenched my hands into fists against my thighs. She’d have to see herself out; I was paralyzed, rooted to the spot.
Instead she crossed the space between us and sat down beside me on the couch, so close her jeans-clad thigh pressed up against mine and sent an electric quiver down my spine. “Jim,” she said quietly.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t look at her, could barely breathe. My heart was pounding so hard all I could hear was the blood in my ears.
She reached over, took my hand, gently pried my fist open to slip her hand into mine. The heel of her tiny hand pressed into my palm as she wound her fingers through mine and now I really couldn’t breathe.
She reached up with her other hand, touched my chin to turn my face toward her, and I was so afraid, so fucking terrified to meet her eyes. It was going to break me to see her compassion and sorrow, her struggle to let me down easy.
“Jim…really?”
Her voice was so soft. Her fingertips on my chin moved delicately along my jaw until her whole palm was cradling my face, and I closed my eyes, unable to bear it.
She shifted against me, and in the instant before her lips touched the corner of my mouth I felt her breath on my face, her fingers tighten around mine as she clutched my hand.
I gasped my surprise, and she moved to take my bottom lip between hers, exhaling a soft sound into my mouth, and when the tip of her tongue touched mine I thought I’d die right there. Her eyelashes on my cheek, her hand on my face, her whole body pressed up against me. I wondered momentarily if I were dreaming and then she made that sound again, oh sweet Jesus that sound, and something inside me just…broke free.
I reached up with my free hand to cradle her face, and she leaned into me, her hand sliding up off my face into my hair as we sank into each other. She let go of my hand and wrapped her arm around my neck and I wound my arm around her waist and she was kissing me, her mouth warm and open on mine, her hands moving in my hair, her back arching under me when I slid my hand around her waist and pulled her against me. It was…well, not every one of my fantasies come to life, but it was definitely where they all began and it went on for what seemed an hour but was probably only a couple of minutes before the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the spell.
Pam sprang backwards with her hand over her mouth, staring up in horror at Mark as he wandered through, yawning, on his way to the kitchen.
“Jesus, Jim go to bed,” he muttered, squinting at the TV, and it was only then that he saw Pam and absolutely jumped back in shock. “Oh—fuck, sorry—” His face contorted in astonishment as he stared from her to me, and then he turned around and scrambled back toward the stairs.
She was already on her feet, reaching for her purse. “I have to go,” she mumbled, and I was barely able to get to my feet before she was out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
-------
“Dude,” Mark said for the fiftieth time in twenty minutes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
For the fiftieth time, I waved him off. “Not your fault. How could you know.”
“You told her,” he marveled.
“Yup.”
“She kissed you.”
I just looked at him. Christ, I was so tired. None of it seemed real now.
“No, I mean she kissed you.” He made a face, that’s significant.
I shrugged at his optimism. What difference did it make? She was gone. She ran away like it was a mistake, a terrible mistake. Which, to her mind, it apparently was.
“You don’t think that’s a big deal?” he persisted, rooting around above the fridge until he emerged with a bottle of Skyy vodka. He held it up triumphantly and proceeded to pour a generous shot into my warm glass of orange juice.
I shoved it away, shrugging again. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, but still. Keep hope alive.” He picked up my screwdriver and took a big swallow. “She wants you, man. Give her some time to figure it out.”
Time. Right.
“I’m going to bed,” I sighed.
--------
It was near two-thirty in the morning—which I knew because I was staring at the clock, watching the digits change, utterly unable to sleep—when my phone buzzed and chirped with a text message alert.
Two words.
I’m sorry
Sorry for what? Sorry I was in love with her? Sorry for kissing me?
I typed back, sorry for what
The reply took a minute. It was not what I expected, although really I wasn’t sure what I expected.
Running out
For a long time I just stared at the screen, not daring to hope what that might mean. As I stared down at the screen, the phone rang, startling me so much I dropped it and did a brief juggling act to pick it up before it could cut out.
“Did you mean it?” she asked, without waiting for me to say hello.
“Yes,” I said simply.
“Really?” Her voice was soft.
“Pam,” I sighed. Please don’t do this, not unless you’re gonna say it back.
“How long?” she whispered.
I swallowed hard. “Years.”
“Oh, my god,” she murmured.
“Yeah.”
She was quiet for a long minute, until finally I blurted, “So, you? Anything?” And I held my breath and closed my eyes, conjuring up the memory of her warm skin under my hands. Just once I’d wanted to feel her. At least I got that much.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes?” I echoed, stunned.
“Yes.” She swallowed noisily. “Not years, but…yes.”
“Oh my god,” I thought, and she chuckled, and I realized I’d said it aloud. “So…now what.”
“I have to tell… to take care of some things.” She paused, then asked very softly, “Will you wait?”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. Would I wait. “Um…yes.”
“Okay,” she murmured. “I’m glad.”
“Glad. Yes. Me too.” I was afraid I was about to start laughing hysterically. Too many emotions tonight; I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. But in an almost kind of pleasant way.
“Good night, Jim.” I could feel her smile.
“Good night, Pam.”
I turned onto my side and stole one more glance at the clock. To mark this moment.
2:37.
Before it was 2:38, I was asleep.
----
Author's Chapter Notes:
Last chapter, as told by Jim.
This is for Talkative: right back at ya, lady. ;)
This is for Talkative: right back at ya, lady. ;)
Chapter End Notes:
--
Sappy? Probably, but I couldn't resist.
I was tempted to leave this in a no-man's-land of unresolved angst, but that's no fun. :) Besides, I've always been of the belief that they would've figured it out eventually; it was all a matter of circumstances.
In any case, thanks for reading! Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.
Sappy? Probably, but I couldn't resist.
I was tempted to leave this in a no-man's-land of unresolved angst, but that's no fun. :) Besides, I've always been of the belief that they would've figured it out eventually; it was all a matter of circumstances.
In any case, thanks for reading! Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.
callisto is the author of 22 other stories.
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