"Karen!"
Pam almost dropped her plate.
Karen was drop-dead gorgeous. She was wearing the littlest little black dress Pam had ever seen. Her arms and legs were perfectly toned.
She smiled thinly at Pam, who blurted out the very first words that came into her head:
"We miss you in Scranton!"
"No, you don't," said Karen, the thin smile still on her face. She turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Pam behind with her plate of chicken.
* * *
At the bar, Michael leaned in toward the intern.
"9 1/2 Weeks is totally unrealistic. Totally unrealistic," he said. "First off, Mickey Rourke? With Kim Basinger? Not a chance. Second" -- he lowered his voice -- "in my personal experience, women do not like bondage. Or stripping. Or food. Not that way, anyhow."
"Now, Two Moon Junction is a much more intelligent film. Much more realistic ..."
* * *
Pam wandered around in a daze. She had no interest anymore in finding Grace, the receptionist at corporate. She had no interest in talking to anybody anymore.
Eventually she found herself in front of a bank of televisions, each showing a different sports channel. She stared at the screens but watched none of them.
After awhile, she realized that David Wallace was standing next to her.
"Are you a sports fan?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," she confessed. "I was just trying to get away from the crowd a bit."
"Me too."
They both looked at the bank of televisions. "You have a good branch," David said. "A little weird, sometimes." Pam smiled. "But a really good bunch of people."
"Thank you." She could tell why Jim liked him so much. He was putting her at ease.
"You all are really lucky to have Jim there. You know, we offered him a job up here. But he turned us down. Maybe someday we'll get another chance."
Pam's face hardened into that blank expression which a stranger wouldn't have found unusual, but which her friends would have known as a sign of fear and painful shyness.
Neither of them noticed Ryan, who was standing nearby, and who had heard everything David just said.
* * *
More than a half-hour later, a worried Jim found Pam in the game room. She was sitting forlornly next to a basketball hoop.
"I've been looking all over for you! Where have you been?"
She stared at the floor.
"Pam, what's wrong?"
"Just go away."
"Pam? Was it Karen?"
She looked up at him. She was crying. "It wasn't Karen, Jim! It was David Wallace!"
Jim was totally confused.
"You told me you took yourself out of the running. You never told me he offered you the job! And you turned it down! How could you do that? You threw it all away. For nothing!"
She sobbed. "What were you thinking?"
* * *
David Wallace leaned back in his chair.
"So ... long haul. Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Jim was lost in his own world. Finally, he answered:
"Married. With a family. And a good job. You know. The important things."
David nodded. "Okay."
They talked briefly about the company, and how they might work with the branches. Then David leaned forward.
"Jim, you're my last interview. But I pretty much knew what I wanted to do from the start. I want you to come to New York."
"I don't know what to say."
David smiled. "You can say yes."
Jim looked stunned. Then he said:
"I ... can't."
David's smile vanished.
"You know, David, I'm really sorry. This is a good opportunity. And I would really like to take it. I don't want to get into it too much. But I have a personal matter back in Scranton that probably - honestly - keeps me from being able to do this. A family matter. I hadn't thought about it that way until just now. But I really can't move up here right now."
David was perturbed, but he was trying to understand. "Well, I guess that's part of what interviews are for - to surface problems like this before it's too late."
He stood up. "You know, Jim, I wish we could hold the position open while you work things out. But that's really not possible." He gestured out toward reception, where Jan had made her grand exit a little bit before. "You can see why."
Jim nodded.
David extended his hand. "Thanks for coming in, though. Good luck."
* * *
"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Pam, tears in her eyes.
Jim considered his words very carefully.
"I wanted us to have a fresh start. I didn't want you to worry that I'd made another big job decision because of you. I didn't want you to have to carry that burden."
"But you need to know this."
His jaw clenched.
"I didn't throw away ANYTHING."
Pam looked up at him.
"When David asked me where I saw myself in ten years, I knew exactly where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with you. I didn't care where I was. I didn't care what I did. I just wanted to be with you."
She was listening.
"If he'd asked me where I saw myself in fifty years, I would have thought the exact same thing."
Her eyes were still red, but they were starting to shine.
"And when I drove back to Scranton, and you said you'd go out with me, I swear, Pam, I was on top of the world. I felt like I could do anything."
He picked up a basketball.
"I felt like - this."
He shot.
It hit the back of the rim and bounced off.
Pam looked up in amazement. And then she started to giggle.
"Well, not exactly like that."
Now she was laughing.
"Laugh it up, Beesly. You think you can do better?"
She was laughing even harder. He grabbed her hands, picked her up, drew her close and hugged her. For a moment, she forgot where she was and didn't worry about who might see them.
When she finally collected herself, he asked: "Have you ever played Pig?"
"What?"
"Pig." He held up the basketball. "The way it works is this. You take a shot. If you make it, then I have to make a basket from the same place. If I miss it, then I get a 'P.' The first player to get P-I-G loses."
"I know how to play Pig, you dork! Give me that!" She took the ball and shot. It hit the backboard and fell in.
Jim took a shot. This time, it bounced off the front of the rim.
"You did that on purpose!" she said accusingly.
"Don't get cocky," he smiled. "Enjoy it while it lasts!"
She dribbled the ball once, shot, and swished it. There was nothing but net.
Author's Chapter Notes:
And now, the end of our story, where revelations abound.
Chapter End Notes:
Reviews are, I confess, inordinately appreciated. No rights asserted, no infringement intended. Please don't take my Dwight stress ball! Thanks to Mandy for the challenge, and thanks to everyone for reading!
Guten Tag is the author of 3 other stories.
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