“Hey,” she couldn’t help but smile, the two of them in this hospital room it felt so familiar and yet distant at the same time. It was like being in another life, in a world where this was her daughter, and their marriage, and she was here to take care of their little girl. Claire’s obtuse personality would be quick to pull her from her thoughts, however.
“I don’t know why she’s here Dad, she just showed up.”
“Be nice Claire,” Jim eyed her and came and sat down. “I didn’t know you were coming…I didn’t miss a text or something did I?” He patted his pants pocket looking for his cell phone.
“No, no,” Pam laughed, “I just showed up actually,” she picked a bag up and held it up to him, “I thought you might be hungry,” she smiled sheepishly at him.
“I’m starving!” Claire propped herself up on her hands and looked at the bag.
“Sorry kid, you’re on liquids until tomorrow,” Jim took the bag from Pam, “so…you brought dinner here, good thinking Bees,” She felt her stomach jump inside of her and instinctively pressed a hand to it. “Oh god,” Jim looked down, “Your appendix isn’t going too?” he joked.
“No, I’m fine,” she smiled and dug open one of the containers of Sbarro’s pizza she brought.
“That.smells.so.good” Claire whined. Jim looked over to her,
“Can you hold the fort for twenty minutes while we eat?” He asked her.
“Yes please, just get that away from me, I might start frothing at the mouth,” She was clearly not as groggy as before. Jim handed her the cup of ice, and led Pam out of the room.
“We probably shouldn’t even get near her, for all we know she’ll smell garlic on our breath and claw our eyes out,” He said with a chuckle.
They took a seat on the cold floor, the only light coming from the nurse’s station down the hall.
“I’m so sorry all this happened,” Jim took a bite of pizza; “I came home to get ready to meet you and found her curled up in bed.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” Pam shook her head and took off a piece of pepperoni on her pizza and placed it in her mouth.
“You still do that, huh?” Jim eyed her.
“What?” She squeaked, defensively.
He smiled at her and grabbed a piece of pepperoni, “Take your pepperoni off and then eat it…can’t just eat it on the pizza, can you?”
She blushed, “I’ve been doing it—“
“Since you were eight, I know,” he said quietly and stared down at his crossed legs.
“Pam, I don’t even know how to begin to talk about all of…”he waved his hand in the air, “this.”
“You don’t need to,” she placed her lips around the edge of her can of Sprite.
“No,” he nodded, “I do,” he licked his lips and glanced up at the ceiling, “I have to start by saying that I loved Sarah, I did.”
Pam nodded, stuffing more pizza in her mouth seeing it was the only thing she could think to do.
“But, that doesn’t mean that I ever stopped loving you.” She looked up at him, catching his eyes.
“What?” she shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t understand. You never called, you never—“
“I know. I know. I’ve literally gone over this a thousand times in my head; I don’t know what I was thinking. I moved to Stamford and Sarah found me in the grocery store. And she was so different than you and—“
“Thanks,” she muttered. He could hear the bitterness in her voice.
“That’s not what I meant. Pam, I—“he moved in towards her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her lightly, “She wasn’t you, and that was what I needed. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Literally, every.single.thought I had was about you and it killed me Pam.” She swore she could see his eyes tear up.
“I don’t know what to say,” she put her plate down. “I was alone Jim, for years. Wondering about you, and you never called. I didn’t even know where you were until I found your number on my friend Emma’s table,”
“Yeah,” he hung his head. “I wanted you then Pam; you knew that…I don’t even know if,” his hands made his way to his mouth—he did this when he was uncomfortable, “if I even stopped wanting you.”
“I don’t even know what I want anymore,” she could smell the sleep on him, see the creases in his face from where he had his hand when he fell asleep, and all she could do was fall for him. Let herself slip back into that place she was thirteen years ago, when he had a baby face and a knack for pranks.
“I want a chance with you, Pam. It’s been months since Sarah passed away, and as,” he rolled his eyes, “corny as this sounds, I know she’d want me to move on,” he rubbed the side of his face with his hand. She smiled, moving her lips to his cheek, kissing it and taking it in her hand.
“You’re going to be okay,” she rubbed her thumb against his cheek, against the rough spots from where he hadn’t shaved.
He stared at her, letting himself be worried about...for once. “We’re going to be okay,” he kissed her fingers before moving toward her, wrapping his arms around her frame.
“Claire’s going to wonder where we went,” she laughed uncomfortably.
“She’s fine,” he leaned in and kissed her.
She pressed a hand against his chest, “We’re in the hallway of a hospital making out,” she laughed, “maybe we should wait to do this,”
He pulled away, “You’re right,” he held onto the wall and stood up with a groan, “Ugh, I feel old,” he shook his head.
“Because you are,” she teased, getting up with ease.
“Watch it, grandma, you’re two years older than me,” he squeezed her hand as he walked by her and into Claire’s room again.
She was asleep, her arms pulled up near her chest, and the blankets kicked off. A smile tugged at Jim’s lips, she looked so tiny when she slept. Leaning against the doorway, he watched her for a moment.
“She’s exhausted,” he mumbled.
“What was that?” Pam said, turning around to face him.
“Oh, nothing. She’s just beat,” he crossed his arms. It was quiet, the only sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily at them.
“Hey—“Jim reached out to her, his hand grazing her shirt, “why don’t you come over on Friday. It’s movie night, but Claire will probably like the company.”
“That actually sounds…great,” she smiled and slipped her hand in his.
Claire was bedridden to the couch, on a diet of ginger ale and crackers. She’d watched pretty much every movie that had been on television for the past three days she’d been home, but she couldn’t complain; she’d gotten out of going to school and everyday a few get well cards would come home with her Dad from some of her friends. It was nice when everybody thought you were dying.
She flipped through the television, occasionally stopping on different channels for a moment and then continuing through.
“Dad, there’s nothing on TV,” she whined, leaning back against her pillow and sighing. “This sucks,” she said to no one but herself and adjusted her stomach so it would stop aching.
“I picked up a movie on the way home from work,” Jim called back. She could hear her father moving around the kitchen, and could almost swear he was whistling. He was being disgusting.
“Why are you so happy,” she called back and heard him enter the living room from behind her.
He leaned down and kissed her head, “Because you’re my daughter.”
She snickered and reached up to slap his face, “Watch it,” he warned, playfully grabbing her wrist.
“Ow,” she played, “cut it out!” she wrenched away from him and slipped further into the couch.
“You’re lucky you’re injured,” he took his usual spot next to her on the couch, and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
“What are you making?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something you won’t like, so you don’t whine all night,” he took the remote from her and shut the television off.
“Hey!” she called, trying to get it back from him.
“I want to talk to you,” he said, pulling his legs up on the couch. When he did that, he meant business. “I invited Pam for dinner tonight—“
“I know Dad, you told me like thirty times,” she interrupted him, attempting to get the remote again.
“I just want to make sure you’re going to behave,” he pursed his lips, “and that you understand that Pam and I are,” he raised his hands into air-quotes, “dating.”
“Ew, Dad, stop,” Claire scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue, “that’s gross.”
He laughed and brought out the DVD from beside the couch, “I got your favorite,” he showed the cover to her, “Classic Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon,” he said in a deep voice.
“How convenient,” she crossed her arms and stared at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked in defense getting off the couch.
“Step-Mom Dad? Are you trying to subtly send me a hidden message? Because if you are, you’re sucking at it, big time.”
He broke out into laughter, “You like this movie, Claire, and it was the first thing that caught my eye.”
“Whatever.” Her favorite word.
“Just no attitude, okay?”
“Right on,” she was flipping through the channels again. Jim sighed, going back to his chicken; he had approximately thirty minutes until Pam would be there.
There was a pile of sweaters lying on his floor and the only thing he’d been able to decide on was the chocolate brown slacks he had draped over the bed. He was standing half naked in the mirror, water dripping from his hair onto his back and causing him to get the shivers every few moments.
“Ten minutes!” Claire was continually giving him the time until Pam arrived. He groaned and threw on a button down green shirt with a brown sweater. Trading in the chocolate brown for the khaki ones, he quickly through on his pants. Jim took a moment to study himself in the mirror. His hair, brown for the most part was spewed with a few gray hairs and it lay on his forehead. He smiled, wondering if this face looked the same as when he first met her. She looked the same, her skin still soft, but her curls were shorter, bouncier and tamed. This Pam Beesly had grown up, had her head on straight, and knew what she was doing with her life. And as he stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but think he looked exactly the same—still unsure of what he wanted out of life. Like he was still twenty-seven and in love with the woman he couldn’t have, and scared out of his mind.
By the time Pam had already slipped off her pea coat and crawled onto the couch next to Claire, she knew it was going to be an interesting night.
“That’s Dad’s seat.” Pam looked over to find Claire staring at her as she got up quickly and moved to the rocking chair.
“Sorry…I,” she looked down, “I didn’t know,” Pam finished.
Claire handed Pam the DVD case. “Will you put this in?” This child didn’t miss a beat.
“Sure,” Pam lifted herself up and placed the DVD in the player, turning it on. “Oh I love this movie!” She exclaimed finding her way back to the chair again.
It was silent as the Tri Star logo came up on the TV.
Claire looked over at Pam, “If you think we’re going to dance around to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough don’t get your hopes up.”
“Don’t worry,” Pam grinned, “I’m not as pretty as Julia Roberts,” she laughed.
Claire eyed her and then let out a laugh. “You’re right,” she giggled. Claire patted the seat next to her, “You can sit with me,” she said quietly.
Pam coughed, waiting a moment and then got up to sit with her. “Do you cry at the end?” Claire asked, motioning to the movie.
“Oh my God, every time!” Pam exclaimed.
Claire giggled, “Dad always makes me turn it off before the very end, says he’s “tired.” I just think he doesn’t want me to see him cry,” she had broken out into a fit of laughter.
“You’re father’s always been a wuss,” Pam smiled.
“What was that?” Jim came into the kitchen with two steaming plates of food, hanging one to Pam.
“Oh nothing Dad, just that you never watch the end of Stepmom with me,” Claire shook her head and sipped at the ginger ale in front of her.
He bit into his chicken, “Claire I’ve seen the ending a hundred times,” he rolled his eyes playfully and smirked.
“I’ve never ONCE seen you watch it,” she sat up straighter.
Pam laughed, “I bet he stays up late and watches it all by himself, Claire,” she teased.
Jim smacked her lightly on the arm, “Watch it,” he played, “I could have poisoned the food.”
“Okay, Jim,” Pam smiled; a living room had never felt so warm as it did that night.
