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Waking up in Vegas
Chapter 2
She was just supposed to be there to take notes. That’s all she was there for. Just take notes, observe, listen and write a stupid memo. Or whatever it was Michael intended for her to do with them.
How could she have let it get that far?
She looked around her disheveled hotel room as she sat on the unmade hotel bed she and Jim spent the night on. Shock, horror, self deprecation, those should all be words that she could use to describe the entire situation. She stood, stretched her limbs, his t-shirt still swallowing her up, the sleeves almost hitting her wrists, and went back to stand out on the balcony. She grimaced as soon as she opened the door, the heat hitting her face like she had just opened an oven.
Her entire life, she dreamt of two things, to be happily married with a family of her own, and to do something with her artistic talent. And up until less than 24 hours ago, she had accomplished neither one.
And inasmuch as she was furious at herself for doing something as completely foolish as letting things get out of hand the way they did, as she stared at the gold band around her finger, she couldn’t help but smile.
Because it was easy. It was easy to talk to Jim, easy to laugh with him, or at least it used to be.
She spent years trying to get Roy to commit to a date. Year after year, the date was pushed back. After year three passed without a trip to the altar it was as if there was some sort of shift within her. She just wanted to be married. That was it. She came so close to not caring that she and Roy no longer saw eye to eye on things, that they had become different people in the ten years. That they were merely two single people existing in this nebulous zone where they just did what they thought they were supposed to be doing.
All it took to get her to see the light was one Saturday night, a week before she was supposed to walk down the aisle. Sitting at the kitchen table. Alone. Surrounded by seating charts, an appointment card with hair, makeup and church times all listed. The guest list was stuck under a box of thank you notes that she decided to start writing, because she hated when she received a thank you card in the mail months after the actual wedding. All it took for her to realize that it shouldn’t just be about getting married like some marathon sprinter running to a finish line – Roy walked through the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and asked her when she was going to start cooking dinner.
That was going to be her life. For the rest of her days. Roy in the living room, with his sock covered feet on the coffee table, beer in one hand, television remote in the other.
That was the day she also thought she may need to be checked into the hospital and put under psychiatric evaluation. Because that was also the day she remembered how Jim sat with her, watching video after video of bands for the wedding.
And then she realized – he was gone. Transferred. Never to be seen from or heard from again. It’s what he wanted, to be in another state, away from her. And as the tears fell for what seemed like days as she crouched down on the floor, dry heaving into the toilet bowl when it all hit her, she realized what a gigantic mess her life had become.
She turned Jim down. He had every right to walk away. She managed to recover, cancel a wedding, enroll herself in art classes and she became a stronger person.
But the pain – when he returned with someone else, that pain brought her right back to where she had been all those months before. She kept telling herself that she should be happy for him. But the more she tried to do just that, the worse she felt. Up until this very moment, as she stared out over the Vegas strip, Ceasar’s to the left, Paris to the right, she could still pinpoint the moment when she just wanted to grab onto his hand and not let go.
It wasn’t really that far off, it had occurred earlier in the week. Andy was being his normal annoying self- and of course Jim had to seek some sort of retribution. She ignored the fact that she was his last resort for an accomplice and went along with him. And as their hands brushed when she passed him Andy’s cell phone, her heart leapt into her throat that she had to grab a cup of water to swallow the feeling back own into her chest.
Then Michael has to go and insist that she accompany Jim on some random ‘We need to get Dunder Mifflin to supply Vegas hotels with paper’ initiative that Michael himself came up with. Well, that couldn’t have made her any more conflicted. She was elated to get to spend time with him, maybe patch up their friendship a bit. But when she tried to joke about how Michael was probably trying to save his own ass with corporate by sending them on this major sales pitch, Jim just shrugged.
The five hour flight after that was excruciating. She contemplated telling him to go alone, that she would just hide out at home, and he could email her the notes. But by the time she had the gumption to even say that much, the hour of silence was broken when he said, “that’s our row,” and they boarded the plane. Five more hours of silence later, he led the way through the airport, not so much as waiting for her to keep up with his stride.
They went to two meetings with heads of the business departments at the MGM and the Bellagio, calling it a day a few hours later. He went his way, she went hers.
Sitting in her room yesterday afternoon, with no more than having said a word in almost nine hours, she decided to explore the casino, stopping to sit at the bar to order a Malibu Bay Breeze. It was still too early, Vegas time, for the bar to be crowded, but in Scranton time, it was nearing eight at night.
Stepping back inside to ready herself for the day, she recalled the last clear thing she remembered from yesterday.
She sat at the mostly empty bar by herself. After her second round, she decided to call the airline and just get out of town. He wouldn’t even miss her, of that she was totally sure.
While she was on hold, Jim approached, sitting in the seat next to hers and ordered himself a beer, turning to stare at her intently.
She held one finger up, indicating for him to hold on, as the ticket agent came on.
“Hi, this is … my name is Pam Beesly. I’m scheduled to leave Vegas in two days, but um, I was wondering, is there anything available on an earlier flight? Maybe tonight?”
“Where to, ma’m”
“Philadelphia.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“What about any of the tri-state, like Kennedy, Newark, La Guardia?”
“No, ma’m, I’m sorry, we’re all booked. You’re more than welcome to come and try to fly standby, and another carrier may have availability. You could save your return flight with us for another time, we’ll credit it to your account.”
“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“Thank you for choosing Virgin Atlantic, have a wonderful day.”
She closed her phone, took one last sip of her drink, and turned to Jim, “Hey, have a good night. I’m … just, email me any notes. I think I have enough to get whatever Michael wants done. So, have a good night.”
He shook his head and placed his hand on her arm, “Where’re you going?”
“Home. You don’t need me here. And I sort of don’t want to be here, especially by myself, so.”
“You’re not alone.”
She nodded, “Yeah, sort of am. But hey, no problem, I didn’t expect you to keep me entertained.”
“Pam, stop.”
“Jim, we both know you don’t need me here. You don’t want me here. And I don’t need to or want to be here. So it’s all mutual. Sorry Michael went ape when Karen wanted to go, and I’m sorry for just … existing, okay? I’m going to the airport.”
“When did you become so dramatic?”
“When did you become such an … never mind. Have a save trip back.”
“If you leave I’ll tell Michael.”
She rolled her eyes and her head, “What does it matter?”
“Would you just sit down. Here, I’ll buy you another … what is that?”
“I can’t drink and fly, so that’s enough for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was a complete ass to you today.”
“It’s good that you’re self aware, Jim.”
He tilted his head and smirked, “Thank you. Look, it’s not you, okay? Michael wasn’t the only one who went nuts about not being here.”
“Right. Look, I’m sorry you had a fight with Karen. But it’s only Thursday night. Just call her and tell her to come here. Pay for it. Michael won’t know the difference. And you can have her right notes.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Yeah… no, cause she’s not the secretary, I get it.”
“Okay, seriously? When did you become so hyper sensitive?”
She shrugged wordlessly.
“Do you want to go get some dinner?”
She was about to shake her head, but something in her decided to grab onto his olive branch, “Yeah, okay. Where?”
“Uh, Emeril’s? It’s supposed to be really good.”
“Sure, if we don’t need a reservation.”
He smiled, “I already made us one. It’s in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
A knock at the door snapped her back to the present, and she went to answer, brushing her hands over her outfit – jean shorts and a pink tank top.
“Hey, so I hear there’s this awesome breakfast buffet downstairs in this very hotel of yours. Shall we?” Jim asked as he strode into her room. She stood by the door, her eyes taking in how he looked, dressed in khaki shorts and a polo shirt.
“Okay, just gonna grab my purse,” she said, walking over to the desk, “and, ready.”
“Oh, after you,” he pointed his arm out in front of him.
“Such a gentleman.”
“Gotta keep the wife happy,” he said with a smile, scratching at the back of his head.
“You’re such a smart ass, you know that.”
“I told you, I’m self aware. Some say it’s part of the Halpert charm.”
“I bet it is.”
“Wait, I think that’s how this whole thing started,” he laughed, “I think we need to take the word bet out of your vocabulary before we wind up … I don’t know. Agreeing to world domination, or something like that.”
She giggled, sticking her tongue between her teeth, “You’re insane.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he said, lifting his left hand in front of her as they walked toward the elevator. “Oh, hey. Get this. Apparently, if you’re a newlywed and you tell the waiter that you got married here, you get free food.”
“That’s not possible.”
“I’ll show you, here. Hold my hand, pretend you like me.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” she smirked.
“That hurts, Pam.”
“Oh, stop pouting,” she laughed, “okay. We’re holding hands. Now what?”
“Just watch,” they walked out of the elevator, hand in hand. She tried to keep the silly giddy feeling in her belly from bubbling up in her throat. But when he brushed his thumb over the top of her hand, she just about melted to the ground.
“Hello, hi. Me and my new wife would like your best table.”
“Oh, newlyweds. Right this way,” the maître ‘d led them to a semi circle booth. “Your waiter will be right with you. Congratulations, you two make a lovely couple.”
Pam smiled, “Thank you.”
“No, don’t sit on the end. Here, scoot over to the middle,” he said, moving their silverware.
“But, it just makes it more complicated to get up and get the food.”
“Yeah, but then, I can’t do this,” he said, slinging his arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek.
“Oh my god, stop that, what are you doing?” she said, her face feeling warmer.
“Getting us a free meal.”
“Is that all?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Nice. Innocent until proven guilty,” she smirked, turning her head to look at him.
He held her gaze, leaning in slowly he brushed his lips across hers, “Yep.”
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali