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Stepping around the outside of the car, Jim opened the door to the passenger’s seat, and scooped Claire up in his arms, forgetting the Target bag at her feet that held her Halloween costume. Claire tiredly reached around his neck, holding on to him as Jim kicked the car door shut, his car keys dangling from his mouth. He managed to fanangle his way into the house, laying Claire on the couch and going to shut the front door. He watched as she turned into the couch, pulling her arms up to her face like she did every night when she slept. Jim smiled; he felt so cliché as he thought about her as a little girl. It was times like this that made him feel like he was someone out of a film.
Jim checked the thermostat, turning it up a hair, and climbed up the stairs, leaving Claire sleeping in the living room. He shut the door to his bedroom, flicked on the light, and pulled his sweater over his head, stepping out of his jeans and leaving them lying on the floor below him; he’d grab them later. The covers were already undone from not making the bed that morning, so after turning off the light, he crawled into them, and sat up against the headboard. Glancing out at the lampposts outside, he watched as the last stand of teenagers were making their way off the streets, presumably coming home from some Halloween party, where they’d no doubt been doing things they shouldn’t have. He thought about Claire, still small in her frame, unaware of all of the things she could be getting into. Claire knew what was right and wrong, and how far she could push Jim, but there was always a line, and he was thankful for that.
”Jim!” Jim looked up from inside of the car, looking out onto the lawn trying to see where his wife was calling from. He wiped his hands on his jeans and stepped out onto the drive, looking around him, but he didn’t see Sarah anywhere.
“I’m out behind the house!” She called again. Walking out behind the garage he saw Sarah sitting on a blanket, with Claire in her lap.
“Come here,” she beckoned, grabbing Jim’s hand as he got closer, pulling him down on the blanket. Claire looked over at him, her bright blue eyes blinking up at him and a smile appeared on her face. Soft tufts of brown hair peaked out from under her hat as Jim pulled her onto his lap. She was sitting up by herself; Jim couldn’t believe how fast time had gone since she’d been born.
“Watch this,” Sarah giggled, grabbing one of Claire’s hands. “Claire bear, say Mama,” Sarah cooed, coming closer to the baby’s face. Claire blinked back at her, and then tapped her hand against Jim’s cheek.
“Dadadadad,” she babbled as Jim chuckled. Sarah sat back, her face contorting into a frown.
“Claire, honey, say Mama,” Claire blew raspberries at her mother and then clapped her hands.
“Dadadadadad,” she continued. Sarah sighed, and Jim placed an arm around his wife.
“Looks like we know who her favorite is,” he smiled as Sarah gave him a swat on the thigh.
“She said it earlier,” Sarah mumbled, picking the baby back up and laying her on the blanket. Jim sighed, pulling Sarah close and kissing the top of her head.
“We’re so lucky,” Jim closed his eyes, and leaned his head atop his wife’s.
“Sarah,” Jim whispered into the darkness of his room, his hand sliding under the sheet to feel the cool side of his bed. He hadn’t thought about her that whole day. Jim wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty or happy about it, was it progress? He looked over to his alarm clock; it was just a tad past twelve. He began to think about what he’d have to do the next day. He needed to rake up the leaves that had fallen around the yard, and Claire was supposed to have a sleepover at some friends that night too. He leaned against the headboard, it would be the first night he would be alone since the accident. He’d told Claire that she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere for the first few weeks; he’d use every excuse he could think of, homework, chores, visiting Grandma…whatever would keep her in the house. He just needed another presence there to keep him sane. But he’d finally agreed to let her go out, and she’d been looking forward to this slumber party for weeks, he couldn’t tell her no, as much as he wanted to.
Groaning, Jim pushed himself further down into the sheets, his eyes getting tired as he shut them, forgetting why he was even upset in the first place.
Pam shut the door to her apartment, throwing her keys on the counter, the small piece of yellow lined paper stuffed into her jeans pocket as she sat down at her kitchen table. She looked over to the clock, it was getting late, and she’d already created a list of things that she would have to do in the morning. She was jobless, and there was still rent to pay, a car payment to make, and groceries to buy. She felt her cat sweep through her legs, nudging its head above her thigh. Reaching down, she patted his head quickly, picking him up and going down to her room.
Stripping back the sheets, she set the cat down and slipped her jeans off, grabbing the paper as she did, and got on top of her bed. She stared down at his name, wondering where in the world Emma got this number. She felt her stomach turn over, hoping that it wasn’t what she thought. That Emma wasn’t up to some scheme trying to get Pam to call him. Maybe Emma left the paper out for me to find it. Pam shook off the thought, she was being ridiculous. Emma wasn’t trying to use reverse psychology on her, maybe it was a different Jim Halpert. Yes. She’d settled on that, this man was not her Jim Halpert. Crawling into bed, she set the paper on her nightstand, holding it down with the edge of the lamp.
I should just throw it away, she thought to herself, her eyes scanning the ceiling, resting on the fan and watching it spin slowly. She decided in the morning she’d make a list of all of the places that were hiring, maybe call her Mom and see what she thought. She pulled the sheet around her, holding it up to her chin, and resting her eyes. This was not a night for sleep.
Jim sat at his kitchen table, drinking a glass of orange juice and looking over the sheets for the interviews he would be conducting that week. Since his arrival in the Stamford school district, he had been working for the district conducting preliminary interviews for positions at the local schools. This week he had to do two positions for the spring: an elementary math teacher, and a high school art teacher. He looked over the names of the people who had applied, and the people he needed to call back to set up appointments with. He grabbed his phone, and dialed the first number on the list, swallowing the piece of toast in his mouth.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice on the end of the line was raspy, and maybe a bit tired. Jim looked up at the clock, it was eleven on a Saturday, people were up at this time right? He’d forgotten what time to call people after having a child; Jim was up at seven every morning with Claire from the time she was born until she was nine. He was just used to being up early.
“Hi, this is Jim Halpert calling from the Stamford County School District, how are you this morning?” Jim almost laughed at the professionalism in his voice; it reminded him of a time when he had to talk that way on the phone, and his stomach pinched.
“Oh! Oh!” The lady on the other end sounded startled and he could hear chairs sweeping across linoleum floors. “I am just so glad that you called, I’ve somehow managed to lose your number, I had it right here on my kitchen table,” Jim could hear papers swishing around.
“Oh that’s okay,” a smile appeared on his lips, “I was actually calling because we’re very interested in your application and would like to set up an interview,” Jim sipped the juice in front of him quietly. “I understand that you’re from Philadelphia, that’s quite a move for a high school art job…and leaving a university? Can I ask why?” Jim wasn’t exactly supposed to ask these questions outside of an interview, but when students were involved, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t dealing with some creep.
Emma laughed on the other end, sitting down at her kitchen table and pulling her yoga pants further up her legs.
“Oh, no I don’t mind you asking at all,” she leaned back in her chair, imagining the man on the other side of the phone. Trying to picture what he looked like. “I work at a college now right in the middle of Philadelphia, and while it can have its benefits, mostly the pay, the job isn’t the least bit rewarding. Don’t get me wrong, I love college students, but I originally went to college to teach younger kids.” Jim grinned, someone who shared his passion.
“Basically, I saw your job offer online, I’ve visited Stamford quite a bit, love the beach and the area, and am really interested in trying to better the lives of children at your school,” Jim had heard this line so much. From the interviews he’d been conducting over the past ten years, but there was something about her voice, something about what she was saying that sounded so genuine.
“That’s great, it’s Emma right?” Jim asked, watching Claire come down the stairs sleepily in front of him. He gave her a quick wave and then pointed to the phone, signaling her to stay quiet for just a few moments.
“Yes, Emma MacDougal,” Emma replied, stirring the tea in front of her, before taking a few aspirins.
“Alright Mrs. MacDougal-“
She interrupted him, “It’s Miss…and just call me Emma, Miss MacDougal makes me sound like I’m old and have thirty cats.,” Jim chortled on the other end.
“Well Emma, would you be able to come down this Friday for an interview at 4pm? We hold them all at Rippowam Middle School, they have the largest conference area, and I work there so…” he laughed.
“I’d love to,” Emma replied,
“Just make sure you bring another copy of your resume and cover letter, and I will see you on Friday with some other administrators,” Jim hung up the phone and checked off the first name on his list.
Claire fixed herself a bowl of cereal, the back of her brown hair sticking up in a few different places. Jim stood up and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“You still have your sleepover today, right?” He asked, grabbing one of her marshmallows out of her cereal and placing it in his mouth.
“Hey!” she slapped his hand away and finished pouring the milk. “And yeah I do, a bunch of us girls are going to go over early so that we can set up and stuff,” she said, flopping a braid behind her ear.
“Set up for what?” Jim asked curiously, going back to the kitchen table and flipping through his notes.
“Oh you know…sleepover stuff. We have to go to the grocery store and get junk food, and clear out the living room,” Claire carried her bowl over to the kitchen table, and started piling cereal into her mouth.
“What are you doing today?” she asked with her mouth full.
Jim smiled over at her,
“Calling the rest of these people to set up interviews, and then I’m not really sure. Grandma called earlier, she wants to visit, but I told her you weren’t going to be here,” Claire nodded.
“Why don’t you just go visit her?” she asked, glancing over at the folder in front of him.
“What is all this for?” She asked before he could answer.
“They’re hiring some new teachers, and because I’m on the board I’m in charge of setting up and conducting at least two interviews a year. So I’m doing them and getting them out of the way early,” Jim replied.
“Do you not like doing them?” she asked scooting her seat in further.
“It’s boring,” Jim laughed, “but it comes with the job I guess.”
“Dad, can I ask you a question?” Jim watched as her face contorted, he could tell the wheels were turning in her head.
“Sure.” Jim answered.
“When did you and Mom first have sex?” Jim coughed, spitting some of the coffee out of his mouth, and grabbing a paper towel to wipe it up with. He looked over at his daughter, wiping the spilt coffee off his notes and staring at her.
“Why do you want to know about that? I thought we had this conversation…about four years ago” Jim’s grabbed his forehead, clearly not ready to talk about this again. He’d luckily escaped on having to say much of anything when Sarah had told her what sex was.
“Dad, I know what sex is…duh.” She rolled her eyes at him, “I just want to know when you guys first did it…” she bit her lip.
“Why?” Jim raised an eyebrow.
“Well…you see, there’s this guy in-“
“Nope.” Jim responded shaking his head.
“What? I didn’t even ask you yet!” Claire shot up from her seat.
“You’re too young to even be thinking about that stuff,” he said firmly, getting up from the table himself and adjusting his pajama pants.
“That’s not true, Amanda Grey has had sex four times, and she’s only thirteen!” she protested.
“Well that’s because Amanda Grey is a-“ he stopped himself. Jim had to remind himself he was having a conversation with his daughter…this wasn’t Sarah.
“Is a what Dad?” she narrowed her eyes at him, placing her hands on her hips.
“Nothing. The point is, you’re not Amanda, you’re Claire, and I say that that’s not even going to be a topic of discussion for a long time.” Jim placed his coffee cup in the sink, and went to go upstairs.
“Go get ready, I’m bringing you over to your friends in an hour,” he hollered from the top of the stairs, hoping that whomever’s mother was watching his daughter tonight would make sure no boys happened to pop in. The reality was sinking in…his daughter was becoming a teenager.
“I think I’m getting an ulcer.”
