*
*
“Thanks for calling Ameriplan, the nation’s premier discount medical plan organization. This is Cathy speaking,” I say into the phone for the millionth time today. The pep in my voice is long gone. I grumble through this sentence like a drone. “I’m sorry ma’am, Medicare does not allow their providers to charge a patient a different price,” I tell the person on the other line. She barks her protest and asks to speak to my supervisor.
“No problem, I’ll transfer,” I say and just forward her over to another customer service representative.
As soon as I place the phone down it rings again.
“Ameriplan, discount medical plan organization, this is Cathy……..Members can save between 25% and 65% on all restorative and cosmetic work……. It’s a range……..No, specialist fees are discounted only up to 25%....No problem, I’ll transfer you.”
This is how I spend my weekdays from 9 to 5. I have lines on my face, permanent incisions dug between my eyebrows, from sulking here. I thought working at a paper company was tedious. Well, it is, but not as mind-numbing as listening to people grumble in your ear all day long.
I was let go from Sabre after Robert California sandbagged the Sabre store. But I decided to stay in sunny Florida and try my luck out there. It was definitely a step up from Scranton – palm trees, blue skies, warm weather. What could go wrong? Well, everything. Long story short, I couldn’t find a good paying job and in less than three months I wiped my savings clean. I returned to Scranton empty handed and with my tail between my legs.
I think it was Lily Tomlin who said things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.
My life had been tolerable up until the documentary aired. I wish I could blame clever editing for the way I was portrayed, but my actions were very transparent. I was definitely hitting on a married man, but not just any married man, as I had previously thought. I was hitting on Jim Halpert - the eternal nice guy, the one who waited years to be with the girl he loved.
That Jim Halpert.
In my defense, I thought his marriage was doomed. He was miles away from his wife, who seemed eager to get him as far away from Scranton as possible. It was a done deal. But he turned me down and climbed another step in the nice guy scale.
From then on I was branded.
Tramp.
Home-wrecker.
But I think people preferred the names that rhymed. Hussy Cathy and Slutty Cathy were the fan favorites.
I still haven’t heard the end of it. I guess I should be lucky enough that I only talk to customers on the phone. I bet if they knew they were talking to Slutty Cathy, they would do more than bark at me.
I leave work and decide to make a quick stop at the grocery store. I grab a few items and when I get to the registers there’s huge line. I stand on my tippy toes to try to see what’s the hold up. Well, the geniuses only have two registers open. I choose the line that shows more promise and stand there.
It is only when it’s too late that I realize who is standing in front of me - Pam. I think on my feet and look around for a way out, but people have lined up behind me and I can’t make a clean exit without calling attention to myself. I just look down at my feet and pray the floor will swallow me whole. While I’m pondering on how to execute a David Copperfield-esque disappearing act, I lean on my shopping cart and it pushes against hers.
I freeze. I look down, letting my hair cover most of my face, and say a quick, “Sorry.”
Through the curtain of my hair I can see her leisurely turning around and it’s like we’re underwater and all the events that follow become slow and strained.
“Oh, It’s alri—” She begins, but stops. Her brow furrows as she slowly realizes who I’m.
Game’s over.
I surface from underneath my hair and say, “Oh, hey,” as if I’m just now realizing that she was standing in front of me. “How are things?” I ask stupidly.
“We’re good,” she says.
We. Plural. Got it
“You?” She asks, but her tone is deceitful, like when a mom asks, how was school? knowing the kid got detention.
“Good,” I reply. “How are the little ones?” I ask, discreetly looking around to see if any cash registers have opened so I could use that as an excuse and make a quick escape.
“They’re good,” she says, gesturing to her little boy sitting on the cart.
The kid looks at me with these killer green eyes. He is clutching a bag of M&Ms as if his life depends on it.
“It’s Philip, right?” I ask. Mom’s like to talk about their kids. Maybe if I ask a few questions she can yap about little Jim Junior here and ignore the neon sign signaling the obvious. “He is so big and look at those cheeks,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says dryly, doesn’t elaborate.
Nice try, Cathy.
An awkward silence follows and it’s impossible to continue to ignore the elephant here. I resent what I did and I deserve the flak I got. For a while I had a tough time dealing with people on the streets and my own stupid conscience. My mom advised me to reach out to Pam and apologize. She said it would help me bring closure. At the time I thought my mom had lost it. But now her words are echoing in my head. I don’t think I will get another chance like this.
“Hey,” I say lightly, feeling the walls of the supermarket closing around me. “I meant to talk to you after the documentary aired.”
She shakes her head slowly from side to side and says, “That wouldn’t have been a good idea.”
“I just…” I begin, but my tongue feels like a lump of wood in my mouth. “I wanted to apologize. I was waaaay off line.”
“Yes, you were,” she says matter-of-factly.
Her bluntness catches me by surprise. But what did I expect, for her to say, No worries, sistah. That’s water under the bridge. Now let’s have coffee?
“Look, I was stupid.” I say. I avert my gaze to the ground and shame crumbles off my shoulder. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. If someone had done that to me I know I wouldn’t forgive them either.”
She studies me for a moment, and then says, “What made you do it?”
“Um…”
First and foremost, your husband is very good looking. He is also funny and smart. The guy possesses all the qualities I would want my own husband to have. I’m pretty sure Lackawanna County agrees with me.
I want to tell her this, but I don’t.
Instead, I tell her the truth. “He was very nice to me and I guess I took it to mean he was interested. From my experience, if a guy likes you he tends to be friendly.” I sigh and think about how pathetic that sounds. I look up at her and her face softens for a fraction of a second before it returns to its original unyielding state.
“It still doesn’t make it okay to hit on a married guy when he is just being nice, you know?” She says.
“I know and it’s totally okay if you hate me. For a while I hated myself too, and I’m pretty sure the rest of Scranton still does.” I add the last little bit under my breath.
“Can’t say you don’t deserve it,” she says.
“I know,” I tell her. “Look, I just wanted you to know I feel horrible for what I did. I completely misinterpreted Jim’s friendship.”
Her facial expression changes and although she tries to mask it, I notice it. Maybe she’s not accepting my apology, but acknowledging it was made.
She looks at the line that hasn’t moved in the past few minutes and grumbles, “Why can’t they just open another freaking register?”
I take her change of subject as a good thing. “I know,” I tell her with a theatrical sigh.
The awkwardness of the situation seems to dissipate, but just when I think I see the end of this tunnel, I see Jim coming towards us with their little girl in tow. The guy literally squeezes past my cart without batting an eye at me and says to Pam, “The bathroom was all that way on the other side.”
I see them looking at each other and I guess Pam’s facial expression alerts him there is something behind him.
“What?” He asks, turning slowly so that he is facing me.
“Hi,” I say.
“Oh, hey… you.” He says a bit disconcerted. “How’ve you been?”
“Good, good,” I tell him,
The little girl in his arms looks a lot like him, except she got mom’s curly hair. She’s wearing this summery blue dress and it accents her crystal blue eyes. They made some cute kids.
“I thought you stayed in Florida,” he says.
“I did, for a while,” I tell him. “Didn’t work out.”
“Sorry about that,” he offers.
“It’s okay. It was for the best.”
He looks back at his wife, then back at me. “Well, if you are looking for job, Dunder-Mifflin needs an office administrator. Oh, and a sales person too,” he adds and beams at me.
How can I not misunderstand his friendship when that smile is directed at me?
“Really? You guys are leaving the company?”
“Yes,” Jim answers. “We are.”
“New jobs?” I ask hesitantly.
“The sports marketing company I started in Philly was bought out and the headquarters is now in Austin,” he says and his smile can light up this whole supermarket. “We’re moving there in a month”
“That’s awesome,” I say.
“Yeah, we think so too,” he says.
I see that the line is finally moving and Pam has begun loading her groceries onto the conveyer belt.
“Well, good luck with everything,” I tell him.
“Thank you,” he says. “Good luck to you too…? I guess.”
“Thanks.”
Jim places the little girl down and goes to help Pam load their groceries. He snakes a hand around her waist and whispers something in her ear as he loads at least 10 packs of lemon Jell-O on the belt. When all is on the conveyer belt, Jim lifts his little guy from the cart and drapes him over his shoulder. The kid releases the biggest belly laugh.
Not too far away, the little girl is doing giddy twirls like a ballerina, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Look, daddy. Look!”
“I see,” he responds and offers her his free hand. She takes it and he twirls her ballroom style. And like a ballerina princess she courtesies, as graciously as can, accepting dad’s applause before continuing to leap and twirl.
The more I watch them, the more I hate myself for what I did.
I’m so enthralled that I don’t see Pam looking at me.
“Sorry,” I say right away. “I wasn’t… I was just—”
“I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. But just know that you wanted to break that,” she says gesturing towards Jim, who is loading two giggling kids into the grocery cart.
“When you have a family, you’ll understand. “
She looks back at her husband and he waves for her to come.
“But hey,” she says walking away, “Dunder-Mifflin is a good place for a new beginning. My life began the day I started there.”
I nod.
She joins her husband and I watch him pull her in a hug.
“Lady, I don’t have all day,” the girl at the register tells me.
“Oh, sorry,” I say and begin to load my groceries on the conveyer belt.
I think I’ll give Dunder-Mifflin a call. It can’t be worse than what I do now. At least I won’t have to listen to people complain all day long. And who knows, maybe I’ll find my own Jim too.
Loose Ends by Dedeen
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to EmilyHalpert and ftmill16 encouraging me to post this.
I own nothing.
I own nothing.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading. Anyone else?
