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Disclaimer -- All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Author’s Note – I know this may have been done before, so hopefully you’re not bored with it. This idea came to me as I was in the middle of another story that is no longer being written.
Title from Kelly Clarkson’s “All I Ever Wanted.” – I don’t own that either. I do enjoy listening to it though.
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He has to keep reminding himself that it was not his fault. None of it. It could not be controlled only by him. The company was in jeopardy for a long time before he took over as Vice President. It was inevitable that it would be bought out by a bigger and better company with a stronger name – Sabre. And it was even more foreseeable that they would clean house, sever their ties with the upper management of the company that had been run into the ground.
Three years ago he had taken that job in Manhattan, shoving the queasy feeling he had in the pit of his stomach away as he signed the contract. Pretending that the note he found with Pam’s handwriting scrolled on it meant what it said, ‘don’t forget us when you’re famous’ implied don’t forget the Scranton branch, no other meaning behind the word ‘us.’
The world was in his hands back then. He filled his new apartment with things he never could have afforded on a salesman’s salary, bought a new car and dined at the nicest restaurants.
For three years he was at the top of his game socially, meeting celebrity after celebrity, gorgeous woman after gorgeous woman. Apparently Karen could not handle his new status, which Jim found peculiar since she was the exact person who pushed him into believing he could become better than what he had been. They fought constantly about everything – when he did not want to go out, she pouted. When he did want to go out, she pouted. It was never ending and exhausting trying to keep track of her whims.
Truth be told, if he sat and reflected, which he had time a plenty to do now – unemployed and back living in the town he grew up in, Karen never accepted him, no matter which version of him he chose to be.
He never wanted to be that guy – the one with a new girl every weekend. But when Karen left for snow covered greener pastures in Utica two years ago, that was who he became.
The good thing, he assumed, about being back in Scranton was that he could leave the schmoozer behind, and find who he used to be. The irony of the entire situation was not lost on him. He found it amusing that he was in his thirties and still trying to figure out what version of himself he wanted to be.
It was not that he had an identity crisis. But in a way, it was.
There was a definitive void in his life, and there was only one woman in the world that could fill that void. He tried, though. He had to give himself some credit for at least trying to replace her in his heart. He attempted to be less in touch with his feelings and his gut reaction.
He could not have realized it at a more inappropriate time that he could never replace the things he felt for Pam. The problem was he had no idea where she was, if she was still in this town or if she moved away. The day he accepted the job and called Dunder Mifflin Scranton to relay the good news was the last time he spoke to her.
“Hey, I can’t talk long, but I just wanted to let you know that I took the job here. I start on Monday.”
“Oh. Um, congratulations.”
“Thanks. So I’m sure I’ll be calling in on Monday morning. We can talk more then.”
“Yeah, sure. Um, good luck with everything. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Pam. I’ll see you next week probably. Okay, gotta go.”
“No, yeah me too. Take care of yourself.”
For the past three years he pretended he did not hear the hurt in her voice, the sniffle of her nose, or the slam of the phone receiver ringing in his ears.
That Monday morning, his first assignment was to give the okay to Michael to hire a new receptionist.
The times he had visited the office or his family, they never ran into one another. He was careful not to ask anyone in the office if they had heard from her, afraid that word would somehow make its way back to Karen that he was asking about Pam, of all people.
For all of Karen’s good qualities, the one he had liked the least was her jealousy. The amount of time and effort it took to convince her that he was over Pam and done with that time in his life, all of it seems like such wasted energy now. At that point though, he believed in his own mantra, that in order to forget a memory, you have to replace it with a new one.
To this day, he finds himself still searching to replace that memory – though he has attempted it twelve times over. The thoughts of Pam and all of the things she signified for him – best friend, soul mate, the woman he wanted to marry from the day he met her, all of those feelings managed to stay at bay while he was in New York.
It was not all bad, he knows. With the array of complimentary tickets to an inordinate amount of events at his fingertips, he really could not disqualify his time spent there as a completely useless expanse of time.
If he wanted to see a baseball game, he was granted tickets in seats he could not otherwise afford, even on his own Vice President’s salary. He could nit pick however, both New York teams being no lesser of two evils. He would forever be a Philadelphia Phillies fan, hating the Yankees because it was the thing to do, and hating the Mets because they were in the same division as his prized Phillies.
He went to see advanced screenings of motion pictures, watched Broadway plays, attended concerts at Madison Square Garden and perused museums. To any outsider looking in, Jim was having the time of his life. He pretended he had not wondered if Pam had ever been to the Museum of Modern Art, or if she was still involved in art at all.
Eventually, the pretending worked. All of the memories floated away in a sea of his past life.
And now that he sits on the sofa he had to buy from a second hand store, his third beer crossing his lips, those memories come rushing back like a tidal wave.
He is back where he started, the past three years seemingly never having happened. Alone once again, in an apartment that echoes his voice when he coughs. Back then when he started out as salesman and became best friends with and subsequently fell in love with her, he thinks that time may have been better than now. At least then, he was able to afford the good beer.
At least, back then he had a friend.
Now, the only people he has are the family members that still speak to him – his parents, brothers and sister. If he could turn back time, he thinks, alienating his friends for a new city and a brunette was quite possibly the biggest mistake he had ever made.
He is grouchier now, that is for certain. He tries not to show it in his outward demeanor, especially since in this small town, one never knows if you’re encountering the person who will be sitting behind a desk interviewing you next.
Eventually, he figures the will to go out to a bar will surface. The need to socialize will come back once he gets a job again. The severance package was not much. Clearly to him, Sabre could not justify giving a decent amount of money to former upper management of the company they bought out
Heaving a sigh, he puts the empty beer bottle in the trash as he goes for another one, only to find he just finished the last bottle. Tomorrow’s another day, he thinks as he heads to bed for the night, trying to move away the nagging feeling that seems to have taken permanent residence in his gut.
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He woke with the spring sunlight washing over his face through the blinds of his bedroom. As the symphony of his hangover thumped through his temples, he swore once again that he would not drink in excess. He needed to turn a new leaf, get his attitude back to positive, attempt to get rid of the negative energy that seeped in two months ago when he was fired.
Today he decided was the day he started getting back to who he used to be - the outwardly positive goofy guy who never took himself as seriously as he had been recently.
He decided to go for an early morning bicycle ride, moving the still unpacked boxes that surrounded his bike out of the way. With no real destination in mind, he rode around the neighborhood for a while, passing his old high school and his old office. He stopped in front of the building that used to house Dunder Mifflin and glanced around the empty parking lot. Nothing had changed about the façade, but something about the place felt different to him.
He never wished himself harm, he was certain that he was not that far gone into an elongated state of depression. But as he looked around the empty spaces, he wished he could erase his memory completely. He wished that he could have afforded to stay in New York City, where nothing spurred his reminiscence of the last time they spoke to one another. As soon as he stepped from his bike on to the asphalt, it was almost like he could see it happening in front of his face.
“Hey. Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“So, did the weekend manage to heal your burned feet?”
“Yeah, sort of. I just, you know, I meant what I said, Jim. I miss our friendship.”
“I know. Me too. It’s like you said, we’ll always be friends, right?”
“Yeah. I hope so. I want to be. So you’re really going for that job on Thursday.”
“I am. It’s a big step, I have to at least try.”
“Good luck, I’m happy for you. I guess it beats staying in Scranton for the rest of your life, right? Before you know it, your name will be in the news. You’ll be famous.”
“Something like that.”
“I should go in. Before Dwight pulls out the stop watch.”
“After you.”
He continues his ride, cycling through a nearby park, allowing the things he tried to forget back in. He can still remember the smoothness of her hand as it brushed his on the way through the lobby door. His senses can still dig up the scent of her lingering perfume as it wafted past him as she moved through the air. He can still remember her laugh, the sweet way it sounded, the way it would make his day just to hear her laugh or see her smile.
The laughter so engrained in his brain, he almost missed it.
“One more spoonful and we go on the swings, okay?”
He gawks, the unmistakable sound of the voice he could never forget.
“Come on, sweetie. One more. You love this stuff.”
He stops his bicycle, slides to the ground on his feet, watches the small child shake his head, the tiny Phillies cap falling to the ground. He watches her bend down to pick it up, sees her eyes move in his direction for a split second. She gives a second glance toward him before she blinks and turns back to the child. He sees her hands furiously trying to gather things and put them in a diaper bag. He takes steps forward toward them, his legs very much like jelly.
He tries to find his voice; the reality of seeing her in the flesh ate his words and his ability to verbalize any thoughts.
All of the things he could have done, wanted to say, should have acted on, they all waved around his mind as he watched her walk out of the park, never turning back.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali