Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Just this random idea I had. Not really sure where I am going with it yet, but I hope you like it!
It’s true what they say about work. It sucks. It seems to me that it’s virtually impossible to live a life without performing some form of work. Since, I’m not going to be inheriting a huge fortune anytime soon, I figure that working at my dead end job is the only way I will be attaining money. So, day in and day out I drag myself from my bed and force myself to travel the five miles to the place I sometimes hate the most in the world. It would be the place I hate most in the world all of the time if not for her.
She is the sweet, innocent receptionist that I have grown to love. Her smile can cure any illness I have, and the sound of her voice is music to my ears. Really, though, I can’t figure what I am doing. This woman, that I have convinced myself I can’t live without, is engaged to another man. She loves someone else, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I am trapped in this weird love triangle that only I know about. There are times where I catch her looking at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention, and these secret glances help to replenish my hope that she might see what is going on between us. Nothing ever changes, though, and it doesn’t surprise me. Someone just doesn’t change the life they have built for years on a whim, and I know this. I know it, but I still continue to live the life I have been living.
The combination of my unrequited love and pathetic job eventually led me to realize something. It became clear to me that hoping for something I could never have is just wasting time. It is my time.
When I drove by the community college that I passed everyday on my way to work, I figured, why not try? If I enrolled in night classes it would only take me a couple of years to attain some sort of degree, and maybe then I could get a better job away from this place. Applying made me realize that I was about to start something new and exciting, maybe something that would change my life.
After flipping through lists of different classes, I decided to enroll in two: a business and journalism class. I had always thought of starting my own business, and the class would help. I took journalism, though, because I used to love to write. It was something I had enjoyed doing in high school, but had never really continued.
Weeks passed, and I prepared myself for the start of my classes. Nobody knew what was going on, and it felt good to know something that only belonged to me. The night of my first class, came quickly, though, and I found myself feeling nervous and overmatched. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. My mind quickly changed when I walked in and read the front board intended to alert the class of their first assignment.
It was only a paper, a silly paper that I may have been asked to write in high school. It was one that I would have forgotten about until the last minute. I probably would have ended up throwing some words on a paper, hoping my teacher would buy into my obvious bullshit.
My life had changed since high school, and this paper took on a whole new meaning. The assignment was clear and concise with no pomp and frills. “Who are you?” the chalkboard said. There were no guidelines or length requirements. It was simply a question, and if it took you two sentences to answer, then so be it.
While my professor went over some introductions and handed out the syllabus of the class, my mind wandered. I wondered what I should write and how much I should reveal to a person I didn’t know. The overall task was exciting though, and that night I started writing it.
I didn’t really now how to start something so personal.
I tried “My name is Jim Halpert, and I am 28 years old,” but crossed it out. “My name is Jim Halpert, and I have lived in Scranton my whole life,” was also rejected quickly.
Soon, it came to me, and I had the perfect opening sentence. It was something I knew that would grasp the attention of anyone reading my essay, and as more creative juices started to flow, I continued writing.
I walked into the door of Dunder Mifflin the next morning with a smile on my face. It might have been the only time I had smiled all week.
While hanging up my coat I felt her hand on my arm, and I shivered. I really don’t know how she does it to me.
“Hey, Jim. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
“What’s up?” I said as I wriggled out of her grasp. It was really much easier to talk to her that way.
“Well, I don’t mean to sound stalkerish or anything, but when I walked by your desk the other day I saw that you had up the community college website. Are you taking classes?”
“First of all, that is very stalkerish,” and I laughed at this so she knew I was joking. “And yes, I am actually taking night classes.” She gave me a look that seemed to say “explain” so I continued, “Well, you know. I was just thinking that I don’t really want to work here forever, and I might have more options at other jobs if I have a degree.”
“Yeah, right. No that’s awesome.”
“Yeah, well I am just trying something new. I mean, I don’t want to end up like Michael. I really couldn’t and don’t want to imagine that.”
“Yeah, no, that’s for sure. I think it’s really cool.”
“It is cool. I mean, usually everything I do is cool, so, this would also be cool.”
She laughed. God, did I love making her laugh.
“You are just Mr. Cool, aren’t you?”
She was smiling, but I sensed something else in her eyes. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, but I am pretty sure it was fear. It didn’t match my fear, though. It wasn’t the type of fear that you feel for a friend when you’re worried about them. She wasn’t afraid that I’d fail. So what was she afraid of then? I smiled when I turned to my desk because I knew. I knew that she was afraid of me being gone. Between her crazy boss and boyfriend who had a lack of interest in their relationship, her life needed something to keep her sane. I was that something, and she needed me.
She needed me.
Though it wasn’t like how I needed her, the deep aching pain in the pit of my stomach that refused to be quenched, she needed me somehow in someway. Even though, it wasn’t everything, it was a start.
I jotted down a quick note on a post-it when I sat at my desk. It was just something to remind myself of what to write in my essay later, but I knew she saw me do it. She was wondering what I was writing, just like I wonder what she draws everyday behind her desk. I even thought she imagined that it was about her the way I imagined her sketching the contours of my face or hands.
My thoughts are fantasies a lot of times, though, and I know a lot of times dreams don’t become reality. Ideas for my paper danced in my head all that day, and I knew I had at least one dream to hold on to.
Chapter End Notes:
more to come!
