Pam shut the door behind her, “Sorry,” she apologized. Her cheeks flushed, and a smile glued to her face.
“What are you so happy about?” Emma grabbed a box and shoved it in her hands. “Help me unpack this,” she grumbled.
Pam just laughed, “What are you so unhappy about?” Just five minutes earlier Emma had called with an address and told her to meet here there—apparently she’d driven up to Stamford with a truck filled with her belongings and had counted on getting an apartment. That was just like Emma, assuming everything would just fall in her lap—and it did.
“I’ve been looking for apartments all morning in this heat,” she spat out the last word. It happened to be ridiculously warm for a November morning and Pam did feel a little bit bad. Although, she did spend the morning with Jim, sipping coffee and trying to sort out the past eleven years of their lives, which turns out—was no easy feat. It was becoming difficult for her to empathize with Emma when she’d had such a festive morning.
“Explain something to me Pam…just a few weeks ago you were whining and complaining about coming to Stamford, and when I called you this morning to apartment hunt you were in the car before I even finished my sentence…what’s going on?” Emma raised an eyebrow and sat down on the bare carpeted floor of the make-shift living room.
“I saw Jim this morning,” Pam sat down near her, cross legged on the floor. She felt like a child again at a slumber party about to tell her best friend that she kissed a boy for the first time…and not just any boy---“He kissed me,” she blurted out with a laugh.
“What?!” Emma yelled. The emptiness in the apartment didn’t help the echo that cascaded off the walls with her shout. “You did what?! You just told me the last time we talked that he had ‘unfinished business’ or whatever, and now you’re kissing him? You need to back up, girlfriend,” she snapped her fingers and all Pam could do was laugh.
“I’ll make this very short. I felt bad for being snippy with him in his own house, suggested we go to a coffee shop and talk since I was coming up here anyway,” she rolled here eyes dramatically, “and all of a sudden he’s kissing me in the middle of the room. It was…”she looked off at a spot on the wall, “familiar,” She finished.
“Well…” Emma sighed, “You’re here now. Let’s start unpacking.” Pam shook her head, typical Emma to not really care about the fact that her life was changing. This was what she’d been waiting for since she’d moved to Philadelphia—that ‘what-if’ chance with Jim and now she had it. Now all she had to do was convince Emma to let her rent the spare bedroom.
“Emma,” Pam asked, her voice an octave higher as she rummaged through a box of feathers and other random objects that were obviously unnecessary.
“What’s up?” She called from the bathroom—she was trying to fix a light fixture that seemed to be broken.
“Remember when—“ there was an ‘oof’ sound and a crash that came from the bathroom, “are you okay?” Pam called, quickly standing up.
“Fine, fine,” she could see Emma waving her hand from the doorway, her gaudy blue rings glimmering in the sunlight.
“Remember when you offered to let me rent a room from you in the new apartment…would you still be alright with that?” Pam closed her eyes in hope that she said yes. She’d find a job doing whatever, even if it wasn’t at the art gallery, even if she had to wait on tables. This time, she was not saying No to Jim Halpert.
Emma strolled out of the bathroom, a hammer sticking out of the top of her pants. “Sure.” She smiled and nodded.
“Really?” Pam’s eyes widened as she set a dish down on the counter.
“I told you it was fine before, I’m not going back on my word,” she nodded and opened up the pizza box that was on the counter, grabbing a cold slice and sticking most of it in her mouth.
Pam smiled, walking over to Emma and wrapping her arms around her. “Thank you!” she squealed.
Emma laughed, “Look I know your libido’s on overdrive…but you need to stop, you’re suffocating me,” she fake-coughed.
Pam laughed and picked up a box bringing it down the hall, “Guess we’re going to need another moving truck,” she called.
Jim’s face was flushed as he pushed open the door to his empty classroom. Sometimes, he’d come into work on Saturdays to do grading there. It got him out of the house and also gave him time to think. He sat down, pulled a stack of essays on Lord Of The Flies close to him and began to flip through the first one. He got to the second paragraph before he reached up and placed a finger on his lips. Plump and slightly red, he ran a finger along them, remembering Pam. He laughed a moment, thinking of the irony of it all before getting up and leaving his work behind on the desk.
“Claire!” Jim hung his bag up on the hook on the wall, and slipped his loafers off. He saw the residue of a glass of milk and some toast on the coffee table where she’d most likely been watching television. “Claire!” he called again, this time louder, sifting through the mail. He looked up, seeing the fridge door propped open. “Leaving the refrigerator door open is awfully expensive air conditioning,” he hollered. When she didn’t respond, he furrowed his eyebrows and came around looking in the bathroom to see if she might be in the shower; the lights were off. He looked down the hall and into the guest bedroom but there was no sign of Claire.
“Sweetie, where are you?” He climbed up the stairs, first checking her room. The door was cracked and the light was on but she wasn’t in there. He quickly moved into his bedroom, the only other place she could be. He prayed silently as he opened the door to his bedroom. Claire was curled up under his sheets facing the wall. He let out a sigh as he walked over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on her back.
“Hey,” he cooed, she opened her eyes and grimaced at him. “What’s going on? Why are you in here?” He asked, pulling his watch off and placing it on his nightstand.
“My stomach hurts, “he could see her hands were wrapped around her stomach, her body pulled into a fetal position. He pulled the sheet off of her,
“Move your hands for a second,” she plopped her arms down on the bed. “Have you been throwing up?” She just nodded at him. He pulled her shirt up a bit and pressed down on her side,
“Dad!” She pushed his hand away screaming.
He groaned, “Why didn’t you call me Claire?” He got up and grabbed a sweatshirt out of his closet.
“The same thing happened to your Mom and I, I’m going to put fifty dollars on the fact that you’ve got appendicitis,” he slapped his back pockets to make sure he had his wallet.
“What?” her eyes widened, “No, Dad, I’m fine, really,” she sat up and swung her legs around the bed and stood up. She immediately keeled over, “Oh my god…” she mumbled.
Jim moved briskly toward her putting an arm around her. “Let’s get you to the car,” she whined as he helped her down the stairs and out the front door. Crawling into the back seat she spread out.
“Am I going to have to have surgery?” She sat up a bit as Jim met her eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Probably,” he glanced at the time on the dashboard. “I hope we don’t hit traffic,” he sped down the interstate keeping his eyes peeled for cops. Taking the hospital exit, Claire peeped up again.
“Dad, this hurts!” she called, and before he had the time to say anything, she’d vomited on the floor of his car.
“Oh God,” he groaned and moved around the outside of the car getting her out. There was some medics around the entrance with wheelchairs, “Can we get one of those?” He called a bit too frantically. Jim was never good under stress.
A middle aged gentlemen in green scrubs came over and helped Claire into it. “I think it’s her appendix,” Jim said as he followed the man and Claire into the building. “I’m not a doctor but…” he laughed uncomfortably.
“We’ll take her into the emergency room right away,” the man assured Jim as they brought her into a small examination room. “Someone will be with you right away,”
Jim watched as she eased onto the bed lying down and staring at the ceiling. It was only moments before a nurse had come in, popping a thermometer in her ear, and slipping a bracelet around her wrist.
“Are you allergic to barium?” She asked in a monotone voice. Jim rolled his eyes; he was hoping they’d at least have someone a little friendlier attending to her. Claire shook her head no,
“No…at least, I don’t think so,” she looked to Jim, “Am I, Dad?’
“She has no allergies, and she’s been admitted here before,” He said, sitting up further in the uncomfortable metal seat. He could feel his nose turning up at the smell of latex and too-clean hospital floors.
“Alright, we’re going to get her down for a quick ultrasound and then most likely off to surgery. Even if they can’t see that it’s her appendix they usually take it out, just to be safe than sorry,” the nurse mumbled and stepped around Jim grabbing a wheel chair from behind him.
“Both her Mother and I had ours taken out—“
“Okay, Claire can you hop into the chair for me?” she completely disregarded his comment.
“Should I go?” Jim pointed to the door with his thumb.
“Mr. Halpert, why don’t you wait right here and when she’s done we’ll bring her back in,”
“Dad!” Claire looked over at him frantically, her eyes bulging out of her head. Jim stood up walking over to her and leaned down.
“Hey,” he took her hand in his own. “You’re alright, this is going to be just fine,” he cocked his head to the side, a smile appearing. She stared at him, not letting go of his eye contact, there were no signs of relief on her face. “I promise, I’ll see you in like, five minutes.” He kissed her forehead and stood up.
“Alright Miss Claire lets get you down there,” he watched as the metal wheels slipped upon the linoleum and felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.
Pam sat outside Emma’s apartment at a little table and chairs next to the coffee shop she lived above. She ran her finger along her cell phone, looking at the time. Jim was twenty minutes late. He was supposed to be picking her up to get dinner that night and talk more about...well, everything. Finally she flipped her phone open and searched for Jim’s number sending him a text message.
Hey Jim, already late for our first date? Wow, your definitely a loser. Calling everything off. :) –Pam
She laughed and then pressed send, glancing up at the street in front of her. She could smell the ocean in the air and couldn’t help but let her sappy side get the best of her. She hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time.
Jim glanced down at the text, “Shit,” he mumbled, throwing his head back and groaning. “I am an idiot” he rubbed his hands through his hair and let out a sigh. Claire had only been gone about five minutes, there was no way he’d be able to see Pam tonight. He quickly replied back.
Looks like Claire’s appendix is acting up. And no this is not a terrible ploy to get out of our date. Stuck at Stamford Hospital...rain check next week?”
He felt like a moron when there was no reply back, leaning his head against the wall he closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.
Pam made her way down the hospital corridor, feeling slightly bad for telling the woman at the front desk that she was Claire’s aunt. She moved through the hallway, her white sneakers squealed as she walked. Poking her head in the door, she didn’t see Jim anywhere in site. Claire was there however, sleeping in the bed, the sheets pulled up close to her chin.
She bit her lip, a bit uncomfortable with going in there without Jim, but the hospital was quiet and dark and so she made her way in, taking a seat near the bed. She waited a moment before getting up to look at a pamphlet near the bed. It was some sort of booklet for caring for your children after surgery. The small television was also on, some movie was playing on TNT and it didn’t exactly look appropriate for a thirteen year old girl. She switched it off,
“What are you doing?” Pam jumped and turned around, accidentally throwing the remote to the floor.
“You’re awake,” she squeaked.
“Obviously,” Claire brought an arm up and scratched her head. “Why are you in my room?” Pam moved over, further away from the bed.
“I’m looking for your Dad; he said you had your appendix out…” she pushed a curl behind her ear. “Are you feeling okay?” Pam sat down, her eyes empathetic.
“I guess so,” Claire slipped further into the bed and laid her head against the pillow. It was quiet for a while the two of them just staring at each other. “My Dad likes you, you know.” Claire itched at the tube around her nose, “He likes you, likes you.” She laughed a moment.
Pam wasn’t sure whether or not this was some sort of trick. She was almost a hundred percent sure Claire hated her guts, and this was not the Claire she originally met.
“Where is your Dad?” Pam asked.
“He went to get me ice chips. Look,” Claire fiddled with the white blanket, “I just want you to know, if you want to hang out with my Dad, or whatever it is you old people do, I’m alright with that. Just don’t….” she paused, “just don’t tell me what to do, okay?’
Pam grinned, “Deal.”
