All That's Within You
As the next few weeks passed by, Jim was slowly getting used to the new situation with Pam. He had moved past the point of avoiding the reception desk, and would flash Pam a smile or an exaggerated roll of his eyes when each was appropriate. But the tension was still palpable. They no longer sat together in the break room or at Poor Richard’s. His productivity had slightly increased now that he was spending more time at his desk and less time stealing candy from Pam.
Jim had settled into the routine, but he didn’t like it at all. He still caught himself staring at her, wishing that he could waltz up to the desk and laugh with her about her latest sketch of Dwight. Sometimes he found himself within moments of pressing ‘send’ on an e-mail to her. Sometimes it was a joking message, and others it was a more serious e-mail, examining the current state of their friendship and comparing it to how things used to be. But the e-mails remained in his draft box.
He still wasn’t quite sure if Pam was ready or willing to patch things up. Until Michael announced the passing of Ed Truck. As Michael grieved the loss of his former manager in a very Michael-esque way, Jim and Pam found themselves in an impromptu grief counseling session. Jim was only half paying attention to the rules of the game Michael had invented, but he was almost positive that Pam’s own spin on Million Dollar Baby had nothing to do with these rules.
It was almost as though Pam’s flash of genius made Jim miss her even more. She was sitting in the same room as him, but it was almost like they were even more distant than they were before. He was proud of her brilliantly crafted response to Michael’s game, and he wanted to tell her that. He wanted to ask her how she kept a straight face and how she refrained from laughing. He wanted to know if she saw the look on Ryan’s face when she started, and how she felt when Kevin butchered her idea at the end. But he couldn’t ask her.
Technically, that wasn’t true. He could ask her. But he knew that if he did, the response wouldn’t be the same as it would have been before this whole thing happened. As Michael lamented the loss of a bird that he swore Toby killed, Jim trudged back to his desk, leaning his chair back and moving his mouse to bring his computer out of sleep mode. Three games of minesweeper later, he saw an e-mail alert in the corner of his screen. He opened his inbox and stared at the ‘sender’ column for a moment. It was from Pam.
He sighed. Pam probably sent office-wide emails several times a day. He would know better if he bothered to read these e-mails, but nonetheless, he assumed it was work related. A small smile appeared on his face as he read the subject line, ‘Does the PPC cover bird funerals?’ He quickly opened the e-mail.
“I’ve been guilted into making a bird coffin. And planning a bird funeral. Somehow I don’t recall this being in my job description when I signed all that paperwork when I got hired. But who reads that stuff anyway?
A little help, please?
-Pam”
Jim immediately stood up from his chair and approached the reception desk. It wasn’t exactly like old times, but it was a start. Leaning on the desk and reaching for a jellybean, Jim noticed that Pam had several different sized boxes sitting on her desk. “Are those the bird coffins?”
“Yeah. I’m just not sure how to judge whether the bird will fit in them or not,” she replied without looking up.
“How about you use… a tape dispenser?”
“Why a tape dispenser?”
Jim shrugged. “A post it note cube is too conservative of an estimate and a stapler is too big? A tape dispenser gives him headroom and legroom.”
“Ah,” Pam said, choosing the box that best housed the tape dispenser. She picked up a few post it notes, covering the box with them and then ripping them off as she changed her mind.
He straightened up and gently tapped his fingers on the desk. “So you sent me a SOS message…”
“Oh! Right,” she replied quickly. “Can you hold this down while I glue the other end? I have a feeling it will move on me.”
“Sure,” he said, holding one end of the box with his left hand and pinning the ribbon down with his right thumb. He shivered involuntarily as Pam’s hands came into contact with his. Trying not to act affected by the shift in dynamic, he watched as her hands slid across the ribbon. His eyes were drawn to her bare ring finger and the stomach flipping began again. His head pounded and his heart rate quickened as he tried to bring himself back to earth.
She backed up to admire her work of art, and Jim removed his hands from the box. Pam grabbed a few more materials and asked Jim to hold, fold, or bend things as needed. Each time her fingers brushed up against his, he had to resist the urge to interlock his hand in hers. Soon, Pam took the box back and began working on the finishing touches. He watched as she glued and pinned, making sure that the box wouldn’t fall apart when the bird was placed inside.
Jim’s eyes remained fixed on her, and she didn’t look up once. It wasn’t like he expected her to, but he half hoped that she would look up and smile or say something to him. Instead, he blindly reached for the candy jar, popping jellybeans in his mouth as he watched her work. It didn’t surprise him that she was putting so much effort into a bird casket. She was a perfectionist when it came to her art, and he enjoyed watching her visions become reality, however painstakingly slow her process was.
“I feel like there’s something missing,” Pam said suddenly, lifting the box to inspect it.
“Did you decorate the inside?” Jim asked.
Pam shook her head. “I need to make the pillowy stuff for the inside. I wonder if I still have any cotton balls in here,” she said, opening her desk drawer and pulling out a bag of cotton balls. She twisted the bottle of glue open and squeezed a few dabs onto a cotton ball, placing it at the bottom of the bird casket. She repeated the process for what seemed like forever as Jim watched. He sighed, unsure of whether he should volunteer to help or just stand back and let Pam work by herself. Finally, Pam finished lining the inside of the box and took two pencils from her pencil cup. Popping two green eraser tops onto the unsharpened ends, Pam attached the pencils to the side and held up the box for Jim to see as well.
“And you even have the two pencils on the side. Nice, Beesly.”
She shrugged. “It’s the best I can do on short notice. I think it’s pretty swanky for a bird, don’t you?”
“If the bird was alive, I’m sure he’d be pretty impressed,” he replied, popping a few more jellybeans into his mouth. He watched in silence as she closed the box and inspected it one last time. The tension was getting to be unbearable, and Jim was tempted to start talking just to hear some noise. But the initiation of some form of conversation meant nothing in the grand scheme of things; he knew that they still had a long way to go before they would find themselves acting anywhere close to normal.
“I think that looks good. Thanks,” Pam said suddenly.
“Sure, no problem. If you need any help with the uh, logistics of the service… you know where I sit,” he insisted, trying his best to leave the invitation open for Pam.
She nodded and placed the box next to her. Jim returned to his desk, feeling relieved and defeated at the same time. Had things been normal between the two of them, he would probably be writing a bird eulogy right now. The bird would have a name, a family, and an occupation by the time Jim was finished telling the story of his short little life. He would stop at home on his lunch break, searching his house for any stuffed birds one of his nieces or nephews had by some chance left behind, hoping to incorporate them into the service in some capacity.
But she didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. So he brought up a game of hearts and remained engrossed in it until Dwight hovered behind him and played a note on his recorder. Startled, Jim swiveled around in his chair to face Dwight.
“The service is starting now,” Dwight said. “Come pay your respects or I’ll write you up.”
Jim searched for a witty comment in response to Dwight’s demand, but he came up short. He grabbed his jacket and followed Dwight outside. He made his way toward the crowd of Dunder Mifflin employees surrounding the box of paper and stood next to Meredith, staring at Pam as the funeral began. Pam gave the eulogy for the bird, and tried her hardest to include Michael’s serious loss into the mockable bird funeral.
It was one of the things he loved most about Pam. She was able to see past the craziness of the situation and recognize what someone was truly feeling. Despite the fact that she was eulogizing a bird, Jim knew that Pam was simultaneously acknowledging the pain involved with the loss of Ed Truck.
The sound of Dwight’s recorder once again interrupted his thoughts about Pam. He snorted in laughter, covering it with a fake cough. He heard Pam singing along to the recorder and he looked down at his shoes.
Pam never claimed to be a fantastic singer, but Jim was always the first to point out that she was tone-deaf. Sometimes he would listen to her sing to herself as she sorted papers or sketched, reminding himself to tease her about it later. Other times, he was able to make her aware of it right then and there. Jim could recall several times off the top of his head where he jokingly changed the station or turned the volume down in the middle of a song, further highlighting Pam’s lack of singing talent. Pam wasn’t afraid to fight back, either, teasingly suggesting they find a karaoke bar and sing a duet. You and I together would be so bad, it would be good, Pam had said with a wink and a smile.
It was another thing he loved about her. And another thing he missed about her. It was as though all the memories they had together were rushing back at once, and he couldn’t even share them with her. The more he remembered, the more he realized that something had to be done about the state they were in with their friendship. All the little reminders were getting to be too much to deal with.
“You all right, Jimbo?” Michael asked, giving Jim a friendly pat on the back.
Jim looked up and realized the service was over and he was still staring at the bird in the makeshift coffin. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he replied. “I’m just gonna head back inside.”
“If you need a few minutes—”
Jim shook his head. “I’m all set,” he insisted, walking toward the door. He arrived on Dunder Mifflin’s floor and headed straight for the break room. He bought a candy bar and slipped it in his pocket before returning to his desk. On the way back he nearly ran over Pam, who was carrying several folders in her hands. She tried to stop herself, but tripped over her own two feet. Jim grabbed her by the arms and steadied her before she fell. Her cheeks flushed as she instinctively brushed herself off.
“You okay, Beesly?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks,” she answered, avoiding eye contact as she regained her balance.
She walked toward Toby’s desk and placed a few items there before moving on to accounting. Jim sat down and pulled his chair in, looking through the folder Pam dropped on his desk. He filed the appropriate paperwork and returned to his computer game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another much thicker folder. He sighed and opened it, trying to determine where to place it in his desk.
Inside the folder were several stacks of paper held together by oversized paper clips. Each one had a cover page with a title and a detailed illustration of a prank she had thought up. Jim was shocked. Apparently Pam had an enormous amount of time on her hands. He quickly flipped through the pages to find an outline and a step by step explanation for the prank, accompanied by drawings and word bubbles. He was confused, impressed, and heartbroken all at the same time. Did Pam even intend to give him this folder? When did she get all of this done? How long had she kept it?
He began the internal debate of whether to talk to Pam about the drawings or not. He leafed through each booklet, smiling as he saw the brilliant ideas Pam had to offer. The feeling of isolation Jim had been experiencing since he returned from Australia was intensifying with every turn of the page. Finally, he had enough. He grabbed the folder and approached the reception desk.
“Hey, uh, Pam? Can I talk to you for a sec?”
She nodded, putting aside a stack of envelopes. “What’s up?”
“You left these on my desk… did you… I didn’t… I—”
Pam sighed. “I know things are weird between us. But… you know, Michael said something smart today,” she shrugged.
“Oh, yeah? What did he say?” he asked, leaning against the desk.
Pam took a deep breath and looked at Jim. She paused for a moment and their eyes met for the first time in a long time. “He said that you should always tell the people who mean a lot to you that you care, because they could be gone the next day,” Pam said with a nod.
“I didn’t hear him say that.”
“He said it. I think you were in the middle of a game of mahjong.”
“It’s possible,” Jim said, looking down at the folder in his hands. “So did you—”
“It’s a sort of peace offering, I guess. I’ve been working on those for awhile. I meant to give them to you for your birthday, but I figured this is a better occasion. I know we have stuff to work out.”
Jim nodded. “We have a lot of stuff to work out.”
“But we can at least try to be friends, right?”
“Pam, I—”
“Look, Jim, what I said on the roof… ugh, we should do this another time. I don’t want to explain all of this in front of the entire office.”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. We’ll, uh, put it on the backburner for awhile,” he said, sliding the folder across the desk and walking away.
“Jim,” Pam called.
He turned around and approached the reception desk once again. “Yeah?”
“Take those with you. Let me know what you think sometime.”
He smiled and grabbed the folder. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Pam looked at Jim and smiled before returning to her work.
He slouched down in his chair, tossing the folder on his desk. The situation with Pam was growing more and more confusing with every conversation he had with her. He stared at the folder, unsure of whether this new development was a good thing or a bad thing. Part of him wanted to wait until she was ready to leave, and then ask her to get a drink at Poor Richard’s and talk things over. Another part of him wanted to let things go until the timing was right.
He could see the folder out of the corner of his eye as he returned to his work. It almost taunted him until he finally decided to stuff it into his messenger bag. Out of sight, out of mind, he thought as he pulled up a spreadsheet and began to enter some numbers. If only the rest of this situation was that simple.
It was about five minutes to five when Jim shut down his computer and grabbed his suit jacket. He didn’t linger at the reception desk this time. He got to his car and arrived home in what seemed like a record time. He took a quick shower and sat down on the couch, trying to ignore the messenger bag peeking at him in his peripheral vision as he turned on the TV. Finally, the curiosity got the best of him and he retrieved the thick manila folder from the bag.
to be continued
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks for reading and for sticking with me! I appreciate it! I need to thank my amazing beta, and my support system! You guys are the best! Couldn't have done it without you!
