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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He hates that the second he wakes up there is a grin on his face, pulling at the muscles of his jaw. He hates that he feels better today than he has in months, or years. He hates that all he can focus on is getting back there, to Pam and Jack, the minutes ticking away faster than his body can respond to the fact that it is no longer sleeping.
He hates it all because of all of the things he should not have done, being away from her for three years – four, he thinks, if you take into account he was not fully back when he returned from Stamford. He hates it all because he knows he should have been here and not in Manhattan pretending he know what he was doing. For pretending he gave any type of care or consideration to his job title, his status, or how highly people thought of him.
Most of all, he hates himself for having one singular conversation with Ryan. At the time, he thought he had done the right thing by deflecting Ryan’s comments and insinuations. He never thought in a million years that Pam would find out about it, let alone find out a misconstrued version of it.
If Michael had needed less supervision, he thinks – knows, that that conversation would never have taken place. No matter how innocently he spoke, he should never have justified Ryan with a response.
Hey, man. How’s the big city?”
“It’s good. Hey, how are your sales coming? Any good projections? Closed any deals yet?”
“I’m workin on it. I have a spread sheet of all the numbers, so I’m good. So, how’s Karen?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. She’s in Utica. Oh, so if you need any help with leads, just talk to Michael, or I’m sure Dwight or Phyllis would be happy to help you make your first sale.”
“Ah, I get it. Hot brunette business women not your type. You’re more of a receptionist kind of guy.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna answer that.”
“Hit it and quit it, that’s what the way you play the game.”
“No comment. Send me a copy of your sales projections.”
“Right, will do.”
That that conversation turned into something completely different when Ryan passed it around the office like it was some sort of tray of cupcakes is something Jim never saw coming. It was during a run in with Kelly in the kitchen a few weeks later that made him feel sick to his stomach for days.
”I never thought you would hurt Pam like that. I mean, how could you, Jim? Do you know how upset she was when I told her?”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you have a thing for receptionists and that you wanted to see if you could get her into bed, and then you were going to dump her.”
“What? How? Where? How? You told her that? I said no comment, nothing else.”
“Why would Ryan lie to me, he loves me, Jim. He would never do that.”
“Yeah, well, the next time you see Ryan, tell him I want to speak to him about his sales numbers.”
“You can’t fire him. He like has a ton of bills to pay. I’ll kill myself.”
He can distinctly remember the twenty seven emails he tried to send her. He can still see himself opening and closing his cell phone, his thumb hovering over the send button for hours that led to a habit he carried around for weeks before he finally did it, ending up with an operator telling him the number was no longer in service.
He decides the first thing he has to ask for is the new number.
The second thing he knows he needs to accomplish today, aside from finding matching socks and a clean shirt, is to get them both over the past.
He knows it would be a lot simpler if she did not have this notion that all he was out for was to get her into bed and then vanish.
The real issue he knows is that saying it to her is not going to mean anything to her. He has to show her who he really is, how he really feels and how much he wants to commit himself to her.
He is completely aware that grand gestures with flowers and candy and chocolate hearts won’t make up for any of it.
Standing at her front door empty handed, calling himself a fool for not at least bringing her some sort of thing.
He forgets to be mad at himself for it when she opens the door with a wide grin.
“Good morning,” she says, waving him inside.
“Jim!” Jack exclaims from his highchair in the kitchen.
“Hey little guy.”
“You made quite an impression on him,” she says, takes a mug from a cabinet and fills it with coffee. “All he’s been saying is Jim, book, Jim, book.”
He grins, his hand smoothing over the light brown flecks of hair on top of Jack’s head. “You really love those books, huh?”
“Oh, he does. He also keeps slapping his hand on the Lego box and he hops really fast. It’s my new favorite thing he does,” she says, placing the mug of coffee in front of him.
“I have to see that,” he says, sipping coffee. “This is great, thanks. Even has that sprinkle of cinnamon you like so much.”
“Yeah, old habits die hard,” she says. “So.”
“So. I um, I was just wondering if I could have your new cell phone number?”
“Sorry, Jim. No booty calls,” she smirks snidely.
“Okay, I deserved that. Seriously though? You’re going to believe something Kelly said?”
“It sort of helped,” she shrugs.
“How could that be helpful?”
He thinks he knows why. He waits silently as she sits, fiddling with her finger nail, silence spreading over as the seconds click by.
“I’m here all day,” he says, raising his eyebrow.
“It helped me get over you,” she says in a rushed breath. “The more I believed it was true, the easier it was to forget about everything.”
He shakes his head, hearing her say it jostling his brain. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “Do, do you,” he pauses.
She nods, shrugs and crinkles her nose.
“Do you think you can reverse the process?” he asks, not sure exactly why he used those exact words.
“What? The getting over you? Honestly?”
“Yeah, honestly.”
“I never wanted to in the first place,” she says, her eyes burning into his.
He stands, walks over to her chair, kneels in front of her and pulls her into a hug. He wants to ask if it’s okay to hug her, but when her head falls to his shoulder, he holds her tighter.
He knows he can’t pull back and kiss her yet, not just because Jack is a captive audience, but because he can not take the chance that she’ll pull away.
He hopes maybe she won’t some day.
--
“So,” he begins, sitting on the floor, attempting to place the final pieces of Lego’s in place. “What do you guys usually do on Sunday’s?”
“Not much,” she shrugs, adjusting herself on the couch as she watches Jack wander around the room with a bear. “He likes the park, so in the afternoon we usually go there, go on the swings and feed the ducks. After that we usually come back here, he takes a nap and I make some sort of dinner.” She shrugs again, grimacing. “Yeah, I know, not super exciting. I bet you like, see a show, go to a fancy dinner, or wander around the city at night with your girlfriend.”
“Actually, I think your day sounds great,” he says, trying not to get flustered. “I hated that place. Really. It was filled with so many annoying things. And, if it rains, the place literally gridlocks everywhere.”
“Yeah, I’m sure New York City is such a hole.”
“It’s not as great as you think it is. People are rude, won’t give you the time of day.”
“Oh, stop. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Oh but it is. I asked someone for the time once and they gave me the finger.”
Her laughter fills the air, her head thrown back and her hand covering her mouth.
“I’m serious. It scarred me.”
She smiles, giggling lightly. “Come on, it’s the best city ever and you know it.”
“It’s really really not. Once I wanted a salad. They have these salad bar things where you add the toppings. It cost me fifteen dollars. And I didn’t even get a soda with it.”
“No, you’re lying.”
“I’m serious. Apparently they charge for ever single topping.”
“I think you learned a valuable lesson.”
He nods. “Yeah, don’t live there.”
“It couldn’t have been all bad.”
“I did get to see a few Yankee games.”
“So, there you go,” she says, extending her hand.
“I hate the Yankees,” he says emphatically.
“I know you do.”
“Oh, hey maybe one day this summer we can take Jack to see a Phillies game?”
“Um,” she says, hesitating. “He’s not really going to understand it, aside from the fact that he may not be here by then, so I’m trying not to make too many plans for the future.”
“Oh,” he says quietly.
The struggle to find other words to fill the silence in the room were suddenly filled with Jack laughing as he tapped his small hand on the box the Lego’s came in.
When he tries to put his head into the box, Jim is the first to reach out his hand to correct him. “Hey, that’s a bad idea,” he says, removing the box.
The crying that follows breaks his heart and leaves him helpless on how to fix it. His eyes find Pam’s sympathetic stare. “You did the right thing. It’s okay if he cries.”
“Okay,” he sighs. “Hey, Jack,” he says trying to distract him. “Look at what this can do.”
He takes a Lego car and drags it in a circle. Jack instantly walks over and sits on the floor next to Jim and holds his hand out.
“Can you say car?”
“Car.”
“What sound does the car make?”
Jack stares at him, his cheeks still wet from his tears.
“It goes, vroom, vroom,” Jim says, tickling Jack’s side, eliciting a gleeful giggle from the baby.
He shows Jack how to move the car, and tentatively moves Jack’s hand when the car heads toward Jack’s mouth. “No no, car stays on the floor.”
This time there are no tears.
“He trusts you,” Pam says from her seat on the couch.
“That was quick.”
“Yeah, he’s easy.”
--
“What are you doing on Tuesday?” she asks, holding one hand on the stroller as he wheels it.
“Probably sitting in front of my computer hoping it’ll create a job for me.”
“Yeah, it’s a tough market. Are you, um,” she hesitates, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Are you looking just in Scranton?”
He stops himself short of a nod when he remembers. “I um, I am, but I sent out my resume to a few places in Philly.”
“Oh.”
“I’m just going to ignore it, if they do call.”
She nods, takes her hand away from the stroller, her eyes focus on her feet. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Hey,” he says, stops in his tracks. “I wasn’t going to tell you and just forget about it. But I know that if I don't tell you, at some point it’s going to come back to bite me in the.”
She interjects “Language.”
“Right. I probably won’t get a call anyway. And if I do, I'm not taking it. I just wanted to tell you.”
“No, I mean, it’s whatever you want,” she shrugs indifferently.
“So, what about Tuesday?”
“Um, you know, I forgot what I was going to say.”
“Come on.”
“No, it’s nothing, really. I um, sometimes I forget I shouldn’t make plans for the future.”
“It’s in two days.”
“Yeah,” she nods. “And who knows where you’ll be by Wednesday.”
“I’ll be here, I swear. I just wanted to be honest.”
She nods, points to the swings and takes Jack from the stroller, placing him inside one before she lightly pushes it. As his laughter resounds, he watches her as she wipes away a tear from her cheek.
He stands and stares at them, his hands gripping the handle of the stroller. He thinks he would like to have a good long talk with whoever said honesty is the best policy.
He hates that all of the headway that was made over the last two days was just flushed down the metaphorical toilet.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali