“Just a friend Claire.,” Jim’s eyes were straight ahead on the road. If he glanced at himself in a mirror he would have probably been a little embarrassed. His hair was a mess from running his hands absently through it for the past fifteen minutes and his tie was lopsided, coming undone from its knot.
“Are you alright?” Claire smacked her gum and pulled one of her headphones out of her ears, “You’re acting strange,” she finished. Jim looked over at her, straightened his glasses and then proceeded to pull off the freeway and onto their road.
“I’m sorry…” he shook his head, driving into the driveway and pulling to a stop in front of their garage. He watched as the snow began to fall on the windshield; the warmth from the glass soaking up the ice crystals and making them vanish. It was the first snow fall. Jim’s eyes set fixated on this for a moment before he turned to Claire, “Pam’s just an old friend, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Jim informed her, reaching behind them to grab his briefcase.
Claire got out of the car, forgetting her backpack on the floor in front of her,
“Get your bag,” Jim called, looking up from the doorstep where he was digging his keys out of his pants pocket. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and then stomped back to the car, opening the door and grabbing her backpack. She flippantly marched up to the door and waited for him, cocking her head to the side.
“Lose the ‘tude,” Jim smirked at her, pushing open the door and going into the house.
“What?” she mocked, raising her eyebrows and heading straight for the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” Claire asked, pulling open the refrigerator door and staring in. She shut it and went to the cabinet instead, grabbing a glass.
“I don’t know,” Jim flipped through the mail; seeing nothing important he threw it back on the counter and took a seat at the bar.
‘Can we get pizza?” she placed a hand on her hip and then spun around, staring at him.
“We just had pizza the other night”
“Yeah, but it’s so good,” she whined, and then went back to the fridge opening it again.
“Nothing’s changed,” he laughed. She rolled her eyes at him and came over to sit down.
“You looked all nervous today, I thought you were going to shit a brick,” Claire giggled. Jim raised an eyebrow at her,
“Don’t say shit,” he warned.
“You just did.”
“I’m your father.”
“So?” she pushed a hair behind her ear.
“Look,” he sighed, “please just pretend that I’m in charge and go get the menu for the pizza place” Claire broke out into a smile, hopped off the barstool and ran into the living room searching for the menus.
“Jim,” he looked up from the book in his lap at his wife who was staring at him from the doorway of their living room. She had a hand rested on her hip, and her head cocked - Jim knew she meant business. He couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful she looked, her hair pulled up into an up do, a bit of makeup brushed onto her face, and a black dress cut perfectly around her hips.
“You look…” he shook his head at her, a toothy grin on his face, “great,” he finished. Jim stood up, walking towards her, and kissed her on the lips. Sarah pressed a hand to his scruffy face, kissing him quickly and then stepping back.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she pulled him to the couch once more and took a seat, Jim following suit.
“What’s that,” he placed his book and the papers he was grading aside and brought his right leg over his left.
“Do you know where Claire is right now?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Um,” he ran his hand along the bottom of his chin and glanced at the clock, “isn’t she upstairs?”
“She is now,” Sarah said sternly, “I caught her outside with that purple backpack of hers filled with ten Barbie dolls, a pair of underwear and her party dress. She made it almost to the road before I asked where she was going.”
“And where was that,” He asked.
“She proceeded to tell me that Daddy was being mean, and she was going to run away,” Sarah frowned, “what’s going on with you lately?” She moved her hand to the back of Jim’s head, running her fingers through his soft hair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he was confused. Everything had been fine this afternoon, he’d picked his daughter up from Kindergarten, taken her home and he’d been doing school work ever since. His eyes were wide as he attempted to figure out what he’d done wrong.
“She said you wouldn’t talk to her.” he looked down at her lap, “Jim, I know you’ve been busy but you’ve got to take time out for her, she’s only five.”
“Are you suggesting I’m ignoring her?” He was hurt; he hadn’t even done anything wrong. He had papers to grade, an essay to plan out and he was just busy. Sarah always came home later from work then he did, and it was his job to make sure that Claire was fed, did her homework, and wasn’t getting into any trouble. Lately though, Jim knew he’d been a little distracted. Maybe even cut off.
“No,” Sarah shook her head, “I’m just saying she needs her Dad. I’m not here in the afternoons, and she’s only going to be this little for so long. Take advantage of it Jim, before you know it we’ll have a teenager on our hands.”
He glanced down,
“I’m sorry. I’ve been so over my head with work, and lately she’s just been so whiny. Every five minutes she’s coming in here, trying to get my attention, and I can’t think straight. I’ll go talk to her,” he kissed Sarah, “and you should go to your dinner.” He brought her close to him once again, “you look stunning,” he whispered, and headed toward the stairs.
“Claire?” He knocked quietly on her door, and then stepped in, finding his daughter rocking back and forth in her small rocking chair, facing the wall.
“Go away.” He could see she was pouting, her arms crossed on her chest. “You and Mommy are mean,” she looked back at him, her face stained with tears. He sighed, pulled his hands out of his pocket, and padded along the soft blue carpet to her chair. He knelt down to her side and pulled the chair toward him. Claire immediately looked away from him, trying to keep her arms crossed as he proceeded to pick her up.
“Put me down,” she ordered, he only pulled her small frame closer to him. He held her tightly against him, kissed her ear, and waited for her to wrap her legs around him. When she did, he dipped his nose to her shoulder.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, “and Mommy does too,” she pulled away from him, her cool eyes flooded with tears.
“Promise you won’t run away again? You scared me,” she waited a moment, and then nodded at him, pressing a kiss to his lip, and he could feel the sticky leftover cherry lip balm stain on his cheek.
Claire’s legs were pulled under her as she bit into the slice of pizza, her father next to her on the couch. She watched as he played with his food, not really eating it. He looked as though he was spearing his pizza.
“Dad, what are you doing?” He jumped at the sound of her voice, looking over at the recliner where she was stretched out.
“Oh. Nothing,” he shook his head. “Good pizza,” he pointed to his plate with his fork.
“You haven’t eaten it yet,” she watched him curiously.
“Oh,” he laughed,” guess you’re right.” He bit the end of the piece and burned the roof of his mouth. He pressed his thumb to the top of it, seeing blood on his finger when he pulled it out.
“It’s hot,” she mumbled a bit too late.
“Obviously Claire,” he snapped and got up to go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She waited, and then put her plate down on the coffee table, getting up to go follow him.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked coyly, leaning against a chair. He spun around from the fridge and stared at her, and then looked at the phone.
“I’m sorry,” he sipped his glass of water, “I’m just…caught off guard, that’s all.”
“Is it because of my friend Pam?” He almost laughed at the irony of her question. Before he could answer her, the telephone rang. The two of them raced for the phone, Jim’s hand grabbing it first.
“Hello?”
“Jim, it’s Pam, can we talk?” His heart felt as though he’d been running on a treadmill for the past hour. He was silent for a moment,
“Yeah…yeah let me,” he side stepped Claire and went up the stairs, shutting his door behind him, and crossing to his bathroom—knowing Claire would be outside of his door listening within seconds. “Okay,” he sat down on the cold tiles, his back up against the bathtub. Something about the fact that he was on the phone with Pam Beesly, sneaking around in his own house, and whispering from his bathroom to her felt so wrong. But he couldn’t explain why he felt a rush of adrenaline, and why there was a pink flush to his cheeks.
Pam was lying on the hotel bed, the thin sheet pulled up to her chest, gazing out the windows at the ocean, pulling itself up onto the shore, and then lazily sliding outward again. She was cold and hot at the same time. The sheet kept her warm, but soon she’d involuntarily kick it off once more. Emma was downstairs making reservations for them at some restaurant in the hotel, and all Pam could do was sit up in the room and think about him.
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t surprised to see Jim this afternoon, but it also wouldn’t be the whole truth. Since she’d been carrying that paper around in her pocket, she had this small hope inside of her that she would run into him, though now that she had, she wasn’t sure what she would do about it.
Pam wasn’t desperate. She reminded herself that she hadn’t spent the last ten years holding on to some thread that she and Jim were soul mates, but she couldn’t help but wonder about him. But there was Sarah. There would always be Sarah, and as much as she’d like to forget that woman’s name, it was engraved in her mind. To top it all off, she’d spent twenty minutes of her afternoon talking to his flesh and blood, and didn’t even realize.
Idiot she mumbled. Closing her eyes, she let her mind do what she’d been preventing it from doing all day, picturing his face. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of Emma coming back into the room, her hair in a pony tail, and changed back into something more comfortable. She smiled at Pam and came over to sit next to her on the bed.
“Well our reservations have been made, we’re eating at that vegetarian place I showed you downstairs,” Emma patted Pam on the leg, “and don’t you worry…I checked, and they serve burgers there.”
Pam sat up in bed, pulling the sheet around her body and leaning up against the headboard.
“I don’t feel well,” her voice was miniscule, coming from somewhere deep inside her throat, and she wondered if Emma had even heard her.
“Your stomach? Emma furrowed her brow, and leaned it to place a hand on Pam’s forehead.
She pulled away from Emma’s hand, “No, I’m just tired, do you mind if I just lay down?”
Emma sighed, “Sure, I’ll just go find someplace down town to grab something quick,” she pulled her coat on and slipped out the door quietly.
Pam sat up, pushed the sheet off her and went to the window, staring out at the beach. She could feel his touch still on her back, the warmth from his fingers as he led her out the door felt like branded burn marks on her sweater.
“Jim,” she breathed his name as though she’d been without air for the past ten years. Jim shook his head, a smile appearing over his lips as he walked toward her, ignoring his daughter staring up at both of them.
“Hey,” Pam couldn’t remove her eyes from his face, studying the lines that had taken the place of where soft skin used to inhabit. He still had his dimples though, exactly two finger nails away from his lips.
There was a moment of silence, Claire standing between the two of them, eyes bouncing back and forth between her father and Pam.
“Uhhh…” she watched her father lock eyes with Pam, both of them holding a smile on their lips. “You know my friend Pam?”
Jim spoke, clearly ignoring his daughter, “Why,” he shook his head, “Why are you here?”
Pam broke the gaze, glancing down at her feet, and then back up at Jim, biting her lip.
“I’m with Emma, actually,” she pressed her right foot behind her left, and leaned to the side, her fingers scrunched up within her pockets. “She’s a good friend of mine.” Jim nodded, pulling his side bag up his shoulder.
“I just can’t believe you’re here...standing in front of me,” Jim looked as though he needed to pick his jaw up from the floor, and Pam would have been more than willing to reach out and do that for him.
“Me neither,” she bit her lip, and glanced up at his face, admiring the glasses that sat a bit too far down on his nose. His hair was still unruly, pushed to the side, but falling in his eyes. She went to study the tile below him, but before her eyes made it past her waist, the simple band on his left hand made her stop. She instinctively backed up, feeling the bench behind her knees and then looked back at the girl standing next to Jim. That was his offspring, there was a woman waiting for him at home, a woman that was prettier than her, smarter than her, doing something with her life.
She shook her head,
“I need to go,” she grabbed her purse and slipped it over her shoulder.
“Wait,” Jim held up a hand, Pam shaking her head no. She could feel her vision blurring, tears begging to spill over as she turned away from him, leaving just a memory of Jim and that little girl behind her.
