“I want you to…” she stopped talking and instead put his hand on the top of her jeans, waiting for him to make the next move. He swallowed, feeling sweat beads start to form on his forehead. He wasn’t sure what to make of this beautiful woman pulling her shirt off in front of him, her skin pink and freckled, pulling her body on top of him.
“Pam,” he breathed, pressing his mouth to hers, letting his fingers slip into the curls of her hair, running his pointer finger and thumb along a strand. He was letting his whole body press against her, trying to get closer to her; he wasn’t sure if he could even physically get closer than this.
“Dad!” Jim jumped in bed, his eyes opening to a dim-lit bedroom, his daughter standing in the doorway in her pajamas, watching him. He glanced at her, wiping his face and eyes with the palm of his hand. “You were yelling,” she finished, pushing her bangs out of her face.
“Was I?” He asked, pulling the covers around him closer. Claire moved to the bed, and Jim put his hands up, “Um, sweetie, can you go downstairs and turn the coffee pot on?” He awkwardly felt around the bed, feeling the warm wetness underneath him. Shit, he sighed. She raised an eyebrow at her father and then turned around, slumping down the stairs.
Jim groaned, getting up quickly and shutting the door to his bedroom, pulling his underwear off. He searched for a new pair, or at least clean pajamas from the pile of laundry lying on the floor. He made a mental note to do laundry later that day as he felt Claire’s cat crawl between his legs, nudging her head against his shin.
“You hungry munchkin?” he asked the cat, scratching her orange fur, and moving around as to not step on her paws. She meowed at him in response, and he started down the stairs, stopping at the bottom and wondering if Pam standing there had been a dream. If last night he just fell asleep on the couch like normal, watching some bad movie on TBS, a continuation of a dream. When he saw the dishes in the sink, however, he realized it wasn’t his reverie. Pam Beesly had been in his house last night, and now she wasn’t. He didn’t know where the hell she was, but there was a part of him that was determined to find out today.
Jim Halpert didn’t believe in coincidences. He believed in opportunities, in fate (or at least something like it) opening doors for him, showing him signs of things he should and shouldn’t do. Letting go of Pam years ago, was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He remembered days, looking at Sarah dancing around his kitchen, or playing with his daughter and wondering about an alternate life. Wondering what it would be like if the mother of his children was someone else. But fate had its ways, and he knew Sarah was in his life for a reason. And here Pam was, knocking on his door, and he couldn’t help but wonder if fate was looming about again.
He moved to the kitchen, finding Claire seated at the island eating cereal.
“What time did you get up?” He asked her, taking a mug from the cabinet and pouring coffee.
“Eight.”
“Are you doing something today?” he asked.
“I dunno, maybe? I was thinking you and I could go do something.” He wasn’t sure if what she said was a statement or a question.
“You want to take a drive with me?”
“Sure,” she shrugged.
Jim took a sip of his coffee, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, stopping at his face and scratching it.
“Where are we going?” Claire inquired.
“I dunno. We haven’t gone down to Pennsylvania in a while-“
“Wait…you want to go all the way to Pennsylvania?” Claire’s mouth dropped open a bit.
“Philly’s not that far,” he smiled. “Come on, I’ll get you one of those cheese steaks you like so much,” Jim winked at her.
“Okay….” She raised an eye at him, “I feel like there’s a catch. Did you…go in my top drawer?”
“Wait. What?” Jim shook his head, “No….why? Should I have?”
“No.” Claire dropped her head and began busying herself with her food.
Jim laughed, and got up from the table, “Go throw some clothes on, I want to leave soon.”
Pam’s lip burned from the warmth emanating off the rim of the coffee mug. She stared at the empty seat at her dining room table and the boxes packed up around her; photos and shoes spilling out of them, and just ignored them. Her apartment was half packed, half still put together. It was the room of a woman who wasn’t sure if she was staying or going. Hell, she didn’t even have a place to go to, just the dream of one looming around her apartment.
She’d gotten home late that night after convincing Emma she was ill and needed to go back to Pennsylvania to just ‘sleep in her own bed.’ And now here she was, up earlier than the sun, wondering where her life was going. Her date book sat in front of her, along with untouched oatmeal and a ballpoint pen. She had a list of things going on the small pad of paper in the black binder, things she could do. Things like call Mom and search online for jobs, but nothing was sounding appealing, and right now she’d much rather sit and mope. She deserved that for once.
And there was Daniel. An opportunity for growth, for doing something she wanted to do. There was the stranger, Daniel, and there was Jim. She’d been in his house and she’d smelled that cologne he wore, the one that smelled like pine and pumpkins and everything autumn. She could almost sense what that close shave would feel like along her cheek. She shook her head and closed her eyes. The almond roast scent traveling up her nose was making her cough. She had Daniel’s number tucked away somewhere in her purse, and knew that with a call she probably could get herself another job. But that would mean moving to Connecticut; a place she’d never been to, only spent afternoons wondering what it looked like. She’d wondered what the ocean looked like there, if it lapped the shore on rainy days like it had when she was a little girl on her trip to Maine with her family.
She remembered her father dragging her down to the beach, she in his arms, pretending to kick and scream but he knew from her fits of giggles she was enjoying herself. He’d dragged her pink speckled toes through the water and Pam had yelped, the freezing Atlantic burning at her toes. She felt herself smiling; she missed the way her father would pose everything he said as a question. How he smelt of cinnamon all the time from the altoids he’d constantly chew. It had been about six years since he’d passed. She was pretty sure that she was the one affected most by his death, because when she told her mother that he’d passed away her mother had chosen not to speak about it after she told her.. Pam liked to think that it hurt her though, that what her parents had was love and that when the person you’re supposed to be with passes away—there’s a sting that never truly goes away.
She grabbed her cell phone off the counter going through the contacts until she reached her mother’s number.
“Hello baby,” Helene cooed into the phone. Pam pulled her phone closer to her ear and cradled it with her neck.
“What are you doing today?” Pam asked. She began to look around her apartment, the lights were low, and papers cluttered her counter. When did she turn into such a hoarder?
“Nothing. Your Aunt May is getting divorced again…so I told her I’d help find her a lawyer. Jonathan’s angry and he’s going to fight her for everything.” Pam smiled on the other end. Her Aunt May has been divorced six times, Jonathan was number seven and every time she dumped one of them she ended up with more money.
“Can I talk to you later, maybe?” Pam asked.
“Of course. Why don’t I swing by in an hour or so and I’ll make some tea.”
“That sounds great,” Pam clicked the phone off, and sighed, wishing that her mother had been free to talk to her for a longer period of time. She tried to clean up her table, setting the pad of paper on top of the counter and wiping up the spilled coffee in front of her with the bottom of her pajama shirt. She grabbed her purse and began to pull everything out of it; she dropped her keys, wallet, and Chap Stick on the table, followed by some old receipts and a tampon before she found his number.
Claire was asleep in the seat next to him, all balled up, leaning against the window with one iPod earbud hanging out of her ear, and the other one in place. He snorted at the site of her, and then went back to looking at the road. Ever since she was small, riding in the car always put her to sleep. If he took her anywhere further away than an hour, Claire would promptly fall asleep in the back seat and stay asleep the entire duration. The sign on the side of the road said that Philadelphia was only thirteen miles away, and Jim needed to stop, gather his thoughts and find out what the hell he was actually planning on doing when he got there.
Jim stepped outside of the car, and quietly shut the door, walking around the rest area. He locked it, and then moved over to a patch of grass in front of his car, and sitting down on the bench. He scratched his face, thinking about the last time he’d been in Philly. He and Sarah had taken Claire here the summer before last; they’d spent their days visiting the Philly Museum of Art, eating amazing food, and then relaxing in their hotel they’d rented for a few nights. He loved little family trips like those, ones where he didn’t have to spend four grand to take the family to Europe—they’d tried that when Claire was four and it went terribly—but trips where he could truly relax and enjoy what a vacation was supposed to be.
Jim had no plans for the day, it was almost eleven, there was grading to be done for Monday, and Claire had a dentist appointment early Monday morning, but all of that could wait. He could call in sick, reschedule her appointment, and they could—
“Dad?” Claire moved towards him, sitting down on the bench with him, and laying her head on his shoulder. “Why’d we stop?” she asked, letting a yawn escape her mouth.
“Hey sleepy-head,” he tousled her hair; Claire swatted him away.
“Hey Dad—“ she looked up at him, and he knew. Knew that she was going to ask about Pam, about Philadelphia, about something and so he stayed quiet, wondering if he kept his lips pinned together if she’d forget or just move on.
“Did you really love Mom?”
