Note: This is what happens when I listen to The Underdog by Spoon on repeat. The title and the summary belong to the Cure. Just a little oneshot to pass the time until next Thursday.
.o.O.o.
To Jim, Fridays have always been the best day. As a kid, they meant no more school and basketball practice. Now, they meant Pam.
.o.O.o.
Their second real date was on a Friday. They had gone out the night before – the day he had finally come back. Their first date was perfect, laughter and stories, like how they had been before he left (except without the awkward love triangle part). They talked through the past few months, about Karen and Roy, made their apologies. He walked her to her door, and kissed her cheek.
The next night, a Friday, they had a picnic. That night was one of the nights that Jim will remember forever. They had no more burning issues to get out, no exes or rejections to work through. They could just be. They ate Ham and Cheese sandwiches, planned pranks, laughed until they cried, and held hands the entire time. He walked her to her door again, but this time he kissed her. Not like the last time; hesitant yet heartbreakingly desperate. It was... slow, sweet, soft. Because now, they had all the time in the world.
.o.O.o.
He proposed on a Friday. He actually had a proposal planned for another night. Once she came home, he would take her to dinner in Philly as a surprise, and watch her face in the candle light as he asked her to be his. The way it ended up was so perfect; he can barely remember why he had wanted it any other way. He had raced back to New York the minute the clock said 4:58. She answered her door in sweats and his t-shirt and he picked her up right there. She smelled like watercolours and gasoline and everything good in the world. That night, a Friday night, he had never felt so lucky.
.o.O.o.
This year, her birthday was on a Friday. She didn’t want anything special, just a night with him and maybe Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway. He got her a cake from Dairy Queen that said “Happy Birthday Pamalama-ding-dong” and a necklace he had bought from Tiffany’s last time they went to the city. She ended up throwing up for about an hour after work, so the cake would have to wait. She seemed to feel fine afterwards, so he ran to Blockbuster and got all of the movies she pretends she doesn’t like but secretly loves. They spent the night curled up on the couch; him twirling her hair around his fingers and watching her watch the movies. She fell asleep in his lap, quietly insisting that even though she had been sick, they should still go to the Company Picnic the next morning. She just had a bit of a flu bug.
.o.O.o.
His son is due on a Friday. They decided to not tell Michael the due date, for obvious reasons. They had the route to the hospital all mapped out, and a bag packed for her next to her fluffy pillow in the foyer. He would warm up the car outside and then come back in for her. She would call her mom and dad, and then his parents from the car. He would run and get a wheelchair and sign her in. The whole time he would hold her hand and tell her to breathe. That is, if he can remember to do it himself.
Story Notes:
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live-love-laugh-FLOSS is the author of 1 other stories.
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