The baby book began in the same way most do. February 10, 2010, Fiona Grace Halpert, 6 pounds, 8 ounces, 20 inches. Jim sighed as he skimmed through, finally coming to the last entry. HALPERT, Fiona G., February 12th, two days after her second birthday, after a long battle with neuroblastoma. He closed the book, slid it under the bed, and felt more alone than he had ever felt.
Pam hid in her room for the first week after Fiona died. She told everyone she was exhausted, which wasn’t exactly a lie. By the end, they were sleeping on makeshift cots and chairs at CHoP, or they were driving back to Scranton late at night to make an appearance at work the next day. Everyone, especially Michael, had been really great through the whole two years, but Pam and Jim both knew they had to show up once in a while. So she feigned exhaustion and cried in her room until Jim found her and tried to console her. But that would usually end in her sobbing harder because, dammit, where was Fancy New Beesley with her inner strength, and why wasn’t Jim crying? He cried at Casino Night, he cried when they got married, so why wasn’t he crying over the loss of his own daughter, his flesh and blood? Pam wondered if Jim would cry if she died, and then she felt guilty and selfish, because she was supposed to be crying over Fiona, not for herself, and that made her cry harder. She shed more than enough tears for two in that first week.
Jim noticed the change in Pam about a week after the funeral, sometime around when her hours-long sobbing episodes ended. It seemed like she pulled herself together, and in doing so, pulled away from him. Little things began to irritate her and she was picking stupid fights. Jim knew there was something deeper bothering her, but he was growing increasingly frustrated by her non-answers and general avoidance. He could even tell the last night, as if the omniscient narrator to his life was saying, “This was to be their last night together.” They had a stupid argument and had crappy makeup sex. Pam went to take a bath and Jim fell asleep, but when he woke up the next morning, there were two suitcases packed by the bedroom door.
“I think we need to take a break.”
He stared at her, fish-faced.
“I mean, this is kind of expected. What is it, like, 75% of couples that lose a child break up? Anyway, I just need a break from all of this. From life, from whatever. I worked it out with Dunder Mifflin, I’m taking a few weeks of personal time. I’ll be at my mom’s, although, Jim, I really need this time to reevaluate some things about my life, so this isn’t your cue to follow me as I walk out the door. I’m thinking of what’s best for both of us.”
On that note, Pam picked up her bags and left. She had practiced the speech a hundred times in her head, and it went off without a hitch, leaving Jim speechless in their (well, his, now) bedroom. Pam arrived at her mom’s house about an hour later and prepared herself for a much-needed retreat. Meanwhile, a shell of Jim Halpert went through the motions of life.
Three weeks later, Jim still hadn’t heard from Pam. He was afraid to call, based on her instructions to leave her in peace, but he made assumptions about what she was planning. He did call his uncle Steve, a divorce lawyer who promised to take care of him, “no matter what that bitch throws at us.” Not that there was much to throw. They had only been married for two and a half years, had no living children, and had very few meaningful things to divide. Considering how much he had invested in Pam, Jim had very little to show at this point. Having Pam, and later Fiona, was all that mattered to him- he’d gladly give up the little he had to get then back. He had just pulled out the baby book again when he heard the knock.
“I’m pregnant.”
Jim stood gaping in the doorway at Pam, who looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.
“I just…I mean, I got to my mom’s house and I was doing really well and I was thinking about how I could move on from this and maybe we really weren’t meant to be, and that it had some philosophical purpose in my life and I would look back someday and smile because it brought me to where I was. But then I started feeling sick and I don’t know why I immediately jumped to pregnancy tests, but I did and it must have been that last night? And then I talked to my dad and he told me what you said when you talked to him last week, about how you thought we could have been more than another statistic, and how you wanted to be more than friends on Casino Night, and how you knew you would marry me even from the beginning. And now I’m pregnant and I’m sorry, and oh my God, you aren’t saying anything. Please say something. I’m sorry, Jim, I’m so so sorry.”
Jim swallowed and gave her a critical look. “Would you have come back if you weren’t pregnant, or if you hadn’t talked to your dad?”
“I think…yes. I think so. But I don’t want to say yes, I definitely would have been back, because I really don’t know how things would have been different. But maybe those things happened for a reason, like they were what led me back to you. Does that make sense?”
In that moment, Jim pulled her into his arms, because of course it made sense, and of course they had to end up together in the end. And he cursed himself and his clichéd, predictable endings as he started to cry.
Story Notes:
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