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Instead of “I can’t,” she says, “okay.” And he smiles, shakes his head lightly and pulls her to him. He feels her smile against his lips and he feels overwhelmed.
“What happens now?” She asks as she pulls away. She bites her lip and suddenly looks unsure. Jim hates that she looks unsure. “Because Roy…Roy will kill you, Jim, seriously. He’s going to be so mad. So, so, so mad.”
“Let’s go then, somewhere, anywhere. We’ll get out of here until things calm down,” Jim suggests, because he doesn’t care about anything right now but her. She nods, jerks her head once, twice, and he grabs her hand and pulls her to his car. When they are inside, he presses his lips to hers, to her cheeks, her forehead, her nose.
“I love you,” he whispers, his voice husky and sure. She smiles a watery smile and they drive through the warm spring night, their hands tangled together in the center.
Roy isn’t home when they get back. Pam knew he wouldn’t be, out somewhere with Kenny or his other buddies. She and Jim tear through the house, throwing books and pictures and keepsakes into suitcases and bags. She leaves anything that she doesn’t need, moves her feet as if they are on fire. Every once in a while she catches Jim’s eye and they hold the glance for a beat, two beats, before continuing their mad dash around her tiny apartment. Jim helps carry bags to his car as she flies through the rooms, grabbing things she simply can’t live without. Jim helps, but he knows there is nothing at his house that he couldn’t live without. There’s only her.
She calls Roy to see if she can get an estimate of how long he’s going to be gone, and Kenny answers.
“He’s just going to crash at my place, Pammy,” he tells her, and she breathes out a sigh of relief. They more carefully pack now, taking the time to wrap breakables, allowing Pam to go through the things she has packed away in the crawl space, in the small garage.
It takes hours, many cups of coffee, and Jim several trips before everything that she cares about is out of her and Roy’s house. They put most of it in Jim’s house, and with a quick explanation to his roommate, they pack up the essentials and head out of Scranton.
They are halfway across the state when Roy finally calls.
“Where are you, Pam?” He asks, his voice edged with anger and maybe a little worry. “Where are all your things? This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Pam agrees. “I left the ring on the counter, Roy. I’ll cancel all the wedding plans. Don’t worry about that stuff.” As if he would. As if he ever did. Jim reaches for her hand, weaves his fingers with hers, gives her a small, reassuring smile.
“Where are you?” He asks again, and it’s quiet anger this time. Simmering, white hot anger, and she is grateful for the miles between them, grateful that they aren’t in Scranton. Grateful they are heading towards Pittsburgh, and then maybe Ohio, and then maybe west. Her own manifest destiny.
“I’m not in Scranton,” she answers.
“Come home now, Pam,” his voice is even.
“I’m sorry Roy. I never meant to do this over the phone. I left you a letter,” she breathes out, “Will you just read the letter?” The letter is cowardly, she knows. She knows that breaking up with someone after a decade over the phone and on a piece of paper is wrong and cowardly and unfair, but she knows Roy, knows how angry he gets when he drinks, knows how it would turn out. Knows that while he’s never hit her before, there’s a first time for everything, and if she was being honest, she would admit that there have been times when he has come close. A grip that was too tight, a hand that flew up before he caught himself and pulled it back down, close calls. Roy is not a bad guy, but he’s a mean drunk and it’s better this way, better to let him cool off and calm down.
“Pam,” he says, but she interrupts.
“Read the letter,” she says again and she hangs up the phone.
In Pittsburgh, they stop and get a hotel room. It’s mid afternoon, but they are both falling over from exhaustion.
Pam kicks off her shoes and crawls under the covers fully clothed, Jim hovering nervously by the end of the bed. He’s unsure of what’s he’s supposed to do here, and Pam pats the bed beside her and he crawls in, thinking as he falls asleep that holding her is so much better than he had imagined it would be.
When they wake up it is the middle of the night. Pam stands at the window and glances out at the quiet city. Jim slips out of bed and behind her, his chin resting on the top of her head. He tugs on a curl and she turns around and presses a hot kiss to his lips, and pulls on his hand towards the bed.
Her mother is calm, her father is not when she calls to tell them that she called off her wedding and she’s taking the time that she had been saving for her honeymoon and getting the hell out of Dodge for a couple of weeks.
“Are you alone?” Her mother asks and when she replies “no,” her mother says, “I see,” in a way that Pam can’t figure out.
“I needed to do this,” Pam says. “I love him.” Jim steps out of the bathroom then, his eyes widening and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Pam rolls her eyes and turns away.
They call Michael next, leaving a message that they will be out of the office for a couple of weeks.
“That’s sure to stir up some gossip,” Jim comments, and Pam shrugs.
“Let them talk.”
About halfway through Ohio, Pam asks finally where they are going.
“I thought we’d drive until we didn’t want to anymore,” Jim answers, and she smiles and turns to look out the window.
“What happens when we get back to Scranton?” Pam asks when they are somewhere in Illinois. “Are we going to continue to work at Dunder Mifflin?”
“I don’t know,” Jim answers. He thinks about the logistics of that. He thinks about how he asked Jan for a transfer, he thinks about Roy in the warehouse, he thinks about the looks that Angela will give the two of them, the innuendos that Michael will use. “We don’t have to. Or I mean, we could go somewhere completely different. Whatever, Pam, it doesn’t matter to me.” It didn’t. He wasn’t sure how to get that across without seeming kind of obsessive and creepy. She mattered.
“I don’t think I want to work there anymore,” she says, and he nods.
“Okay.” They call Michael from somewhere west of Chicago and give him their two weeks. He pleads with them a little, but Jim is firm and Pam hangs up.
“Should we move out of Scranton?” Jim asks as they lay in their hotel room in Utah.
“Where would we go?” Pam puts down the brochure about Mormons she was reading and gives Jim her full attention.
“New York? Boston? Here? Wherever?”
“Our family is in Scranton,” Pam reminds.
“They’ll visit, we’ll visit,” he gives her a gentle smile and she gives his hand a squeeze.
“Yes,” she says finally. “Yes, we should move out of Scranton.”
They spend a few days on the west coast, Pam toeing her feet in the cold, Pacific water and Jim grinning behind her, before they turn around and start driving back towards Scranton.
They haven’t done much but stay in hotels and drive for hours at a time, but Pam thinks this might be the greatest week of her life.
Pam’s things are already packed up, and it takes Jim no time at all to pack up the things he needs.
Jim picks Philadelphia, and Pam doesn’t care where they are as long as it isn’t Scranton.
They pack up Jim’s car, and Pam knows that everyone thinks they’re crazy. Jim’s oldest brother throws around the word “rebound” and Jim threatens to disown him in all seriousness, but Pam doesn’t care. Jim’s hand is warm and solid in hers as they drive out of Scranton, and that’s all that matters.
Story Notes:
The title is from the song by Iron and Wine. I meant to write something that didn't have to do with Casino Night, I swear, but this came out instead.
bashert is the author of 37 other stories.
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