Disclaimer: I almost bought the Office legal pads at Target yesterday. But I couldn't even afford those. Needless to say, if I can't afford paper, I can't afford anything relating to ownership of this show.
Of Herr's Chips and Lost Drivers
She wasn’t lying. At least not completely. It was hot in that gymnasium. She also had a sweater on. Between all that and the dancing she was doing, she was definitely burning up. It was just that she also knew that the hallway had better reception to send text messages.
The only gray area seemed to be whether she was telling the truth about the person she was texting. It wasn’t like Angela needed to know anyway. Sure, she sent a text to Jim. But a little part of her was also hoping for a telephone call. She initiated the last one, so it was his turn, right? Calling him made her look anxious, and that was… entirely true. But Jim would be the last person on Earth to know that.
Her text was short and simple. Funny story for you. Call when you can. It wasn’t overly formal, but it wasn’t overly friendly either. She fought the urge to use an emoticon, deciding that it would probably be best to keep it straightforward for now.
For the rest of the night, Pam held the phone in her hands, checking often to make sure her battery hadn’t died spontaneously or to see how many bars she had. Finally, she settled on putting the phone on vibrate and concentrating on the Diwali party until Jim called back.
After an almost kiss from Michael, and an excruciatingly long trip to drop him off at his condo, the temptation was becoming even greater to make the move all on her own. Regardless of where things left off with Jim, they were still friends. And she needed to talk to a friend like Jim after a night like this.
She turned the up higher on her phone and placed it in her cup holder as she started the drive to her apartment. Determined to forget about the phone call, Pam’s mind wandered from subject to subject.
Okay, think. Art. That’s a good subject. I need new charcoal pencils. Maybe I’ll go to AC Moore tomorrow. But they’re kind of expensive sometimes. Isn’t there a craft store in Dickson City? Do I want to go that far? What store is it? Maybe I got coupons in the newspaper flier. What store… what is it? That’s going to bug me now! Michael’s! That’s it! Michael’s. Oh, no, Michael. That was horrifying. I have to tell Jim—
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her mind was racing. She needed the radio. Or something to distract her. Stopping at the next red light, she popped open the center console and reached for the first CD she found. She opened the case and inserted the CD, tossing the case back in the console.
She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, turning the volume up so she could hear the music a little better. The light turned green and she got halfway through the intersection before her thoughts began to wander again.
I forgot where this CD went! I should organize the center console, see if there are any other good CDs in there. I need to be more organized with my CDs. I don’t know where half of them are. Ooh, I haven’t looked in that top drawer where I thought my DVDs were the other day. I really should start unpacking and cleaning my place. I still have so much junk in the closet in random boxes.
Pam pressed the ‘next’ button, curious as to what other songs were waiting for her on the CD she nearly forgot existed.
Who sings this song? Do I even know this song? It sounds familiar. I think I’ve heard it before. I obviously listened to the CD in the car before this, so I’ve most definitely heard it before. This sounds like a song that Jim—
It suddenly hit Pam. This was why the CD was buried in the console. Jim made it for her.
She let out a sigh and pressed the ‘eject’ button on her CD player. She was almost home; she could stand to be alone with her thoughts for a little while longer. It wasn’t ideal, but she’d manage. She reached over to roll down the window.
It’s hot in this car. I need to get my air conditioning fixed. Although it is almost winter. There’s really no point. Winter. I need a shovel. A new shovel to scrape off the stairs. Salt. Do I need to put down salt? Ugh, I so need a male opinion on this. I’m such a nerd. I’ve lived in Scranton all my life, I should know these things. Have I ever really paid any attention? What did Roy use? Jim would know—
Great. Here we go again. Do not call him. Let him be.
At that moment, Pam arrived at her apartment. She quickly put the car in park, grabbed her purse, and went inside. She plopped herself unceremoniously on the couch, reaching for the remote to find some mindless TV to watch so she wouldn’t have to think about what was going on. After a few Friends reruns, and several internal battles of whether or not to check her phone, Pam turned her phone on silent and placed it on her night table. It was time to give up for the night.
She took a shower and crawled into bed, trying to get comfortable as her thoughts ran wild once again. Pam tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before she finally started to drift off to sleep. She was barely awake when she saw the light from her phone flash. Without lifting her head from the pillow, she opened her eyes to check the caller ID.
Jim Cell.
Quickly, Pam opened the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Beeeeeeeslyyyyyy,” Jim moaned in response. “Oh, shit. I feel dizzy.”
Pam raised her eyebrows. “Jim? Are you okay?”
“Okay, sitting up wasn’t so smart. You there, Beesly? Ugh, my head hurts. I can’t really hear you.”
“What happened? Jim, are you okay?” Pam asked, concerned.
“I’m so drunk,” Jim mumbled.
The worry she had for Jim lessened as she listened to him trying to hold back a fit of laughter. Pam heard a muffled voice on the other end, having a conversation with Jim. “Jim? You there?” she asked, making sure she had his attention.
“Yeah, sorry. I got your text, Beesly, I didn’t read it though. I just figured I’d call you back.” He paused for a moment before giving vague directions to someone who was with him.
Pam shifted uncomfortably in her bed. “Who are you talking to?”
“Who am I talking to? That’s Karen. She’s driving me home. She got us lost. Er, maybe I did.” He paused for a moment to shout ‘it’s Pam’ to Karen, before returning his attention to his phone. “We turned out of the parking lot and I told her to make a left. But what I really meant was to take a right. So I sat up and looked around, and I said ‘What are you doing?’ and she said ‘Taking you home’. Then I said ‘But that’s not where I live!’”
“Karen?” Pam asked, sitting up and turning on the lamp that sat on her bedside table. “Who’s Karen?”
“Karen sits behind me. She likes Herr’s chips. The other day, she was supposed to be working…” he paused for a moment, laughing as he shouted to Karen again. “No, Karen. Take a right. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten us pulled over yet.”
Pam strained to hear Karen’s response. She heard something about not being drunk, Andy, shots and the trash can, but the main message was garbled. “Jim?”
“You still there, Beesly?”
Pam sighed, realizing that she was losing her patience. She was trying to get an idea of who this Karen person was. She felt a little twinge of jealousy in the pit of her stomach, but brushed it off. After all, she didn’t know who Karen was, so there wasn’t any use in being jealous. It was jumping the gun. He was also in Stamford, and it wasn’t like she owned him. She shook her head, focusing in on Jim once again. “Yeah, I’m still here. You said Karen sits behind you. Does she work with you in Stamford?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.
“Yeah, she does. Oh, right, I was telling you about the chips!” he said with a low chuckle. “So Josh asked Karen to do something, and he told me to make sure she was doing whatever she was supposed to. She got mad…”
Pam heard a distinct “I was not mad,” on the other end.
“You were pissed. The look you gave me at the vending machine was a classic Karen Filipelli death glare. Ow! Don’t turn that fast, I hit my head on the door. Pam?”
“I’m still here,” Pam said, picking at the corner of her comforter, only half listening now.
Jim let out another yelp in pain. “Are you trying to kill me?” he moaned. “Oh, crap, I forget what I was talking to you about.”
“The chips,” Pam replied tersely.
“Oh, yeah,” Jim said, drawing out the last syllable of each word. “So I pretended to be a guy from a store when I called looking for her chips. We couldn’t find them anywhere. Karen called Canada. I didn’t know she could speak French.”
“Why is Karen driving you home? And why are you so drunk?” She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answers to those questions. He sounded very comfortable around Karen. Sure, he was drunk, but if he’d had experiences like the search for the elusive chips, they had to get along at least a little.
“Oh, we were doing some work stuff and we had to stay late. Andy brought alcohol. Anyway, I brought my bike into work today. Josh rides his bike to work. I was all sweaty. Whatever. So I didn’t bring my car, and I didn’t want to sleep on the twin bed with Andy,” Jim explained.
“Okay, Jim, you’re totally confusing me. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jim snorted. “I’m peachy keen. So what did you text about?”
Pam was unsure whether she should be angry, jealous, upset, or worried. Or a combination of all three. “Um, I think this is a conversation we should save for when you’re sober.”
“I’ll sober up pretty fast. Karen, what the hell is on your ceiling? Do you call the top part of the car a ceiling? The roof?”
“Are you talking to me or Karen?” Pam asked, her tone becoming less patient and more frustrated.
“Both,” Jim replied.
“Maybe I should talk to you later,” Pam suggested.
“No, no, it’s okay, I’m listening.”
“Will you even remember this tomorrow?” she countered.
“Bits and pieces,” he laughed, lowering his voice.
Pam heard the slamming of the car door on the other end. She listened as Karen tried to assist Jim in the process of exiting her car. She only heard chunks of the conversation, but she could clearly hear giggling from Karen and drunken laughs from Jim. “Jim? Are you there?” she asked once again.
“Hang on, Pam, I can’t talk and walk at the same time,” Jim slurred.
“Okay, Jim, I know you’re drunk, but you can’t lean on me like that or I’m going to fall,” Karen said with a laugh.
Pam shook her head. “Okay, Jim, I have to go.” She hadn’t felt this frustrated or angry in a long time. It was almost as though she could feel the abrupt change in her mood. Her shoulders were tense, her head was starting to hurt, and she was balling the sheets up in her fist.
“Okay. We’ll talk soon,” Jim said, not bothering to wait for an answer before asking Karen to assist him in putting his phone in his messenger bag.
Jim’s request was the last thing Pam heard before hanging up the cell phone. She slid the phone across her night table, watching it skid across the surface and fall to the carpet below. She jerked the chain on the lamp beside her and threw herself down onto the pillows, turning over to the other side.
Her heart was beating faster now, and she was wide awake. She slid her hand underneath the pillow behind her head and crunched it up, grabbing the top part with her hand. She wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation in her head for awhile.
She’d seen Jim drunk once. It was after a night at Poor Richard’s with their co-workers. They hadn’t known each other long. It was the night Pam told Jim she was engaged to Roy. The more she thought about it, the better she was able to put two and two together and link up the series of events. As guilty as she felt about it, she was amused by drunken Jim.
Drunk Jim wasn’t all that different from normal Jim. He was a little more happy go lucky, a little less steady on his feet, and a little less cynical. But for the most part, he was still Jim. He wasn’t a stupid drunk, or a violent drunk. He was just… funny. Something about the way he was able to let loose in front of his co-workers and not completely embarrass himself was intriguing to her.
She turned onto her back and put her feet flat on the mattress, allowing her knees to make two mountains under the sheets. If she was going to get any sleep tonight, it was time for her to get comfortable and clear her mind. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
If drunk Jim is basically like normal Jim… no. That’s not fair, I wasn’t there. I can’t judge how he feels about her by snippets of a drunken conversation.
It was then that Pam realized that the teasing tone Jim used in his banter with Karen was strikingly similar to the tone he used to use with her.
to be continued
Author's Chapter Notes:
Once again, this story is dedicated with all the love in the world to JamHands. Without her generosity and support this fic would not be possible. Thanks to Fallon for beta-ing this for me. Without her cheerleading and editing I would not be as enthusiastic about this fandom as I am. Thank you. And to Hannah_Halpert for all her love and encouragement as usual. And thanks to you for reading!
JamJunkie14 is the author of 5 other stories.
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