Author's Chapter Notes:
Alright, folks. This is it -- the final meeting between Jim and Pam, the one that I glazed over in Philly Jim. Hopefully it was worth the wait. I'm sure I could spend months working on it more, but it's time to close this chapter.
A few weeks before Christmas, on what would have been Roy’s birthday, ironically, I was forced to face the music and see if all my self-help, fully actualized woman stuff was true and not just a load of crap.
I was at my little desk at work, designing a logo for a client. Designing logos was tough for me, trying to get to know the client well enough to capture the essence of their business in one little graphic, but I liked the challenge. It was a million times better than answering the phone and sending faxes. And this client – Ethan – well, he was special. A photographer, probably 33 or so, really cute. And funny. And passionate and talented. He was the first guy that I’d been remotely interested in since Jim. I got a little fluttery and excited just thinking about his dark curls, his broad shoulders, his surprisingly light blue eyes.
I would have never thought a guy like Ethan would be interested in me, but it seemed that he was. I would have never thought a guy like Jim would have been interested in me, and yet he had been, too. I was slowly learning not to underestimate myself just because I wasn’t the prettiest, sexiest, most confident woman in the room. I was funny, and warm, and thoughtful, and I was learning to embrace even the more flawed parts of myself, too.
And I had to admit -- the idea of being with a man who had never known me as a mousy receptionist was exciting. He’d been living in France for a few years and had never even seen the show, so if I wore my Victoria’s Secret outfit with him, I don’t think he’d make me feel like a stranger. Or a slut. He’d believe me to be the person I wanted to be – the person I was inside: confident, sexy, decisive Pam.
My email pinged and I was grateful for the interruption. Designing a logo for a hot client you wouldn’t mind seeing naked was tougher than you’d think. I switched screens to my email and I saw that Isabel had sent me a link to a celebrity blog website. Just above the link she had written:
I wasn’t sure if I should send you this, but I figure better you get it from a friend than see it without warning. I think you’ll be okay with it but … what do I know?
I sat for a moment, staring at the screen, wondering what it could be. I figured it had to do with Jim – why else would Isabel be nervous about sending it? I tried to imagine why Jim would be featured on a celebrity blog when neither of us were really celebrities anymore. So I took a deep breath and clicked on the link.
Up popped a picture of Jim holding hands with a girl. A woman, actually, I guess. She was tall and her silky blondish hair peeked out of a cute knit hat. Her long legs and smooth hair were enough to make me hate her on site, but on top of that, she was smiling up at Jim – a warm, genuine smile. She had sunglasses on, so it was hard for me to see much of her face, but she was clearly pretty, and she was clearly happy. Jim looked down at her just slightly – they were only a few inches different in height – with a similar smile. They looked sickeningly cute. They looked in love. And I felt sort of queasy.
It’s not like I didn’t expect Jim to meet anyone. Of course I knew he would. He was Jim – smart and funny and attractive. Of course he’d find someone else. But to see it for myself, the evidence of this new person? Well, it hurt my heart a little.
But then I sat there for a second, quietly, looking past my instant “Kelly” reaction and listened to inner Pam instead. And surprisingly, she was pretty fine with it. In fact, she was relieved. I hadn’t damaged Jim so badly after all. I guess I had always worried that maybe I had scarred him for life. He spent years quietly loving me, and then a couple years actually dating me, and I thought that maybe through all that I had wreaked havoc on his confidence and his relationship stamina. But here was evidence that he was recovered, or at least he was in the process.
His smile told me that he was definitely recovering. This wasn’t the kind of smile he had given Karen. This was the kind of smile he had given me.
Relief flooded over me. He was going to be fine. We both were going to be just fine. I looked at the photo again and read the caption: Jim Halpert, star of the surprise hit reality show The Office, appears to have found a new life – and love – after Dunder Mifflin. He was seen Saturday walking the streets of his new hometown, Philadelphia, with an unidentified woman.
I studied the photo. An unidentified woman. In Philly. Huh.
I was heading to Philly the next week for a graphic design conference and suddenly I was overwhelmed by the need to see him. To get some sort of closure so we both could move on. Or at least so that I could move on. Maybe with Ethan.
So this is how I found myself getting out of a cab in front of his apartment building on a cold December afternoon.
Someone came out of his building and held the door to his vestibule open for me – a woman, I think – but I was so nervous I barely even looked at her. I rang his bell and then heard his voice for the first time in 10 months.
“Change your mind?”
It stopped me in my tracks. How did he know it was me? Did he think I was coming to see him because I’d changed my mind and wanted to get back together? Oh, God. Maybe I had made a huge mistake by just showing up, unannounced. What if his new girlfriend was there? What if he wanted me back? What if he slammed the door in my face!
But then the door buzzed and I realized it was now or never – he already knew I was there. Might as well get on with it. So I pulled open the door and headed up the stairs. It wasn’t until I saw his face that I realized he hadn’t known it was me after all. He had been expecting someone else. Probably the tall, golden-haired mystery woman from the celebrity blog. Maybe the woman who had held the door for me, the woman I had been too nervous to notice, was the “unidentified woman”!
But even if he hadn’t been expecting me, he invited me in anyway. I looked around his apartment and deduced right away that things with the new woman must be fairly serious. A pair of cute women’s shoes sat on the floor by the front closet. His apartment smelled like cookies. And he had a Christmas tree decorated with ornaments that I was sure weren’t his.
~*~
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked. “Or … a Christmas cookie?”
I smiled. “I never knew you were such a baker.”
He shrugged a little self-consciously. He obviously hadn’t made those cookies alone.
“But, I’m good. Thanks.”
He gestured for me to sit down and I chose the couch we used to own together. We’d had sex on that couch, I realized too late. He’d probably had sex with his new girlfriend on it, too, and the thought was so surreal and yet intensely personal that I had to shake my head to dislodge it from my mind. Jim sat kitty corner from me on a chair that looked new. Perhaps I should have chosen the piece of furniture that didn’t have such a history.
We sat for a moment, awkwardly, and then both started talking at the same time.
“You look really good—" I said.
“How long are you in town—" he started.
We both stopped and laughed.
“Sorry.” He blushed a little. “Thanks. So do you.”
I smiled and nodded, accepting his compliment. “Just a few days.”
He nodded and waited for me to say something else. I took a deep breath.
“Um…” I shook my head. Still smooth, Beesly. All my months of growth and bravery and I still started my sentences with ‘um.’
I tried again. “Whew. I really thought I could do this.”
Jim tilted his head, still waiting. He could have made it easier for me, but he didn’t. Which was probably good. I needed to learn to do things even when they were hard.
Aaaaaand … that’s what she said.
“I thought there’d be more small talk or … just … that somehow I’d know what to say.”
“We can do small talk, if you want,” he offered with a small smile.
But I shook my head and smiled gratefully at his attempt. “No. It’s fine. I just … need to spit this out.”
I took another deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling.
“I really just wanted to tell you that you were right. About me and just … about lots of things, I guess.”
“I was?”
“Remember at my art show, how Gil said that real art takes courage? And … honesty?”
Jim nodded, remembering. He hadn’t been there to hear it first hand, but he had seen the episode later. After.
“And then Oscar said that those weren’t my strong points?”
He nodded again, looking like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
“Well, it hurt me to hear that, but it was the truth.”
“Pam—"
“No. I mean, it’s okay. I have been sort of a coward my whole life. Kind of just … going through the motions, you know? With Roy, with my job, with my art. Even with you.”
I looked at him, and he looked away. I felt a surge of confidence that maybe, for once, I was braver than he was.
“That’s why I’m here. To try being brave and … honest, for a change.”
Jim looked scared. Petrified, actually. But it was too late to turn back, so I plowed ahead.
“I mean, I tried to be honest. That one time, at the beach. But everything came out wrong and not clear enough. With the cameras there and … Karen … I never said what I really needed to.”
I wiped my hands on my new jeans. Even though I was okay with Jim moving on, I had still felt the need to look good when I saw him, and I had bought a new pair of jeans for the occasion. “Even when we were together I never said what I really needed to.”
Jim was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands folded. Almost like he was praying.
“I’m sorry.” I blurted it out and he looked up, confused. I rolled my eyes at myself and tried to explain better. “You were so much better than Roy in so many ways. In just about every way, actually. I knew that, but for so long I stuck with him and hurt you.”
“Pam…we’ve been through this all before. It’s okay—"
“I know. But I need to say it. Out loud. Again.”
He looked at me for a moment and then nodded for me to go on.
“I don’t know why I did that, exactly, other than that I was just afraid to go after what I wanted. I was afraid of hurting the people that I loved.”
I stared at his Christmas tree – so pretty. It was real, I could smell the fresh pine scent. The ornaments were a little sparse and random, but it was warm and happy. I thought maybe I’d like his new girlfriend if I met her.
“When we were … together … I was still doing it. I loved New York. I mean, I missed you, but Jim… I really loved being there. And I felt like if I told you that, it would hurt you. So I didn’t, I acted like I couldn’t wait to get home. But the truth was, I wanted those experiences. I realized maybe I wasn’t ready to get married yet. But I knew you wanted to – you had been waiting so long for us to get to that point – so I couldn’t tell you that I wasn’t ready. So I didn’t. And every time I kept those little secrets, it pushed us apart. And it seemed like the gap just got too wide, you know?”
Jim nodded and looked down at his lap again.
“When we broke up I felt a little relieved. I mean, I missed you every day, but it was a relief to not be disappointing you all the time.”
“Pam. You didn’t disappoint me.”
I reached out and touched his leg. He looked up. “Yes. I did. We disappointed each other, I think.”
He put his hand on mine for just a second and squeezed my fingers. It felt like forgiveness. I squeezed back some of my own before letting go and sitting back on the couch again.
“So last week Isabel … um … emailed a picture of you with … well … with a woman.”
Jim looked surprised.
“A pretty woman.”
There was an awkward moment before I added, “A pretty tall woman.”
My attempt to lighten the mood worked, and he smiled a little.
“Emily,” he offered.
I nodded. Emily. “A teacher, I’d guess?” I gestured towards his Christmas tree.
He nodded.
“Before I saw that picture, I was so worried that I had permanently damaged you. That maybe we’d both had our chance at love and we’d totally blown it, and I just … I don’t know. I felt so guilty. But when I saw you and Emily in that picture, I realized that it’s possible to find something like we had, but without all the baggage. Someone you can start fresh with. You deserve someone right now who wants what you want. And I deserve to be able to live the life that I want without compromising.”
I wanted to ask if he loved her, but I realized that maybe even Fancy New Beesly wasn’t quite that mature, yet.
“I want you to be happy, Jim.”
“I know. I want you to be happy, too.”
“I know. And I am happy now. I’ll probably always feel a little like you’re the one that got away. Maybe you’ll feel that way about me a little, too. But we weren’t so good for each other all the time.”
We both sat quietly for a moment, but the silence felt comfortable. Clear. For maybe the first time since we’d met, there didn’t seem to be anything unsaid hanging between us.
“Pam. I’m sorry I pressured you, that I expected more from you than was fair—“
I reached across and put my hand on his again. God, his hands. I missed them. “No. You just wanted what you wanted. And I wanted what I wanted. And that’s okay.”
He stared at me for a minute before shaking his head. “Wow,” he said. “You are something else.”
I smiled and a part of me wondered where we’d be if I’d been this honest with him years ago. But that was neither here nor there. We were where we were now, and I had no regrets. Well, some regrets, but nothing I couldn’t live with.
I patted his hand and sighed. “I should probably go. But … I’m so glad I came here.”
He grabbed my hand and held it for a second, his thumb brushing against mine. “Me, too.”
We stood and he walked me to the door and we hugged. The hug lingered, but it wasn’t anything weird or sexual. He felt like a friend, an old friend that had been away far too long. I knew we’d never be able to go back to the kind of friends we’d been years ago – because that would be a lie. Even back then, that friendship was a bit of a lie because we both had wanted more. But I imagined there might be a day when Jim and I could meet up for coffee, where we could catch up and show each other pictures of our spouses, our kids, and be genuinely happy for each other. I hoped for that day.
~*~
When I got back to New York, it felt like an anvil had been removed from between my shoulder blades. I walked different. I talked different. I felt like a new woman.
Ethan noticed.
“Are you doing something different with your hair?” he asked me when we met to go over his logo options.
I touched my hair lightly. I suppose I had put a little more effort in that morning, for him, but nothing too unusual.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Huh,” he said, staring at me in a way that would have made me uncomfortable before, but now I just met his gaze and smiled. “You seem … lighter.”
He ended up choosing the logo that was my favorite, too, and then invited me to a new wine bar for drinks. We laughed easily together, talked about his photography and my painting, and when he hailed a cab for me and then leaned me against it and kissed me softly, I felt lighter.
His mouth was soft, warm, new. When he pulled away, I smiled – maybe too big of a smile because he looked at me funny.
“What?” His smile was hesitant, like he thought he had done something wrong.
I grabbed the front of his shirt in one hand and pulled him closer and kissed him again, a little longer than the first time. His body pressed against mine and I heard someone whistle as they walked past us. I was okay with that.
“Nothing,” I said when we separated. “Just … no one’s ever hailed a cab for me before. It’s so … New York.”
“Well,” he smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear, “This is New York, Pam.”
I released the front of his shirt and smoothed the fabric with my hand, feeling the swell of his chest under my palm.
He was right. This was New York Pam. And I liked her.
Chapter End Notes:
Thank you SOOO much for reading, especially Vampiric Blood, who wouldn't let me forget this story. And NanReg, always a big fan, even if she has to read this peeking through her fingers, like she's watching a horror movie. And DunderSnob who is ... well ... awesome. And to the rest of you who gave Philly Jim and New York Pam a shot. I love you for your open-mindedness and support. Leave me a review and let me know what you think!
wendolf is the author of 13 other stories.
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