It was almost 9:30 and Pam was starting to get worried. It wasn’t like Jim to be late. Not that he always got there at nine on the dot, or three hours early like Dwight, but half an hour was stretching it for him. She tried to keep her mind off it, telling herself that he probably just overslept.
Michael breezed into the office then, and she could have kicked herself for wishing for a distraction. He surprised her by walking up to her desk without saying a word (she wasn’t sure Michael had ever been quiet for that long when he first entered a room). He stood there silently, and her eyes darted around the room, wondering if anyone else was noticing this and if she should speak first. Then, in what could only be described as a robotic voice, he said, “Pam, I am your father.”
She grimaced a little bit, both at the thought and the bad impression. “You’re watching Star Wars.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Dwight, who had briskly walked up to him. “Michael, Jim is late again. It is required that all Dunder Mifflin employees arrive promptly at nine o’clock. I’m here every morning at seven...”
“Blah-biddy-bib-do, whatever, Dwight. You’re starting to sound like Toby. Yuck.”
Dwight’s face blanched at the insult (it was the worst kind coming from Michael).
Michael turned back to Pam with a smile that she knew meant he was up to no good. “So, Pama-lama-ding-dong, did you wear our boy out last night?” A wicked grin, wiggling eyebrows, and he even tried to nudge her with his elbow. Luckily for her, that didn’t work so well over her desk.
“I had dinner with my mom last night, Michael. Maybe you should call Jim to see if he’s coming in.”
She almost felt bad for suggesting it, as a phone call from Michael was pretty much the last thing anyone ever wanted, but she knew she needed to derail his train of thought. It was every man for himself in the world of Dunder Mifflin Scranton.
“Hmmm... why don’t you do that? I’m sure your voice will get him up. That’s what she said. Anyway, I have to call Ryan.”
Without another word, he went into his office, closing the door right as Dwight tried to follow him. Pam laughed to herself, thinking of how much fun Jim would have had with that had he been there. She dialed his number, hoping he simply overslept, rather than something more serious.
It took four rings for him to answer. “Hello?” And the voice that came through the receiver actually made her pause. It was scratchy and rough with barely any resemblance to Jim’s—even when he just woke up.
“Jim?” She felt stupid asking, but it was a knee-jerk reaction. It really didn’t sound like him.
“Mmm.”
“Um, it’s Pam... and it’s 9:30. Are you alright?”
“Pam, am I dead?”
“It’s possible.”
“What are my chances?”
“I’d say sixty/forty. Although those statistics would be much more accurate if I had some more information. Maybe like... why you’re not at work. Or why you sound like a chain-smoking zombie.”
“Well, the craziest thing happened this morning. My alarm clock jumped out the window.”
“I hear they do that sometimes.”
“It’s true. So it started when it went off this morning...”
“How incredibly rude of it.”
“I know, right? That’s what I thought. So I hit it, but then it just went off again in like ten minutes.”
“Now that is strange. Almost as if it was taking a snooze...”
“You and your crazy theories. Anyway, so we went back and forth with this for awhile, until I picked it up and threw it at the wall.”
“And then it got angry and committed alarm clock suicide by jumping out the window?”
“Not exactly. See, I aimed for the wall, but instead it went right for the window. Which was opened because it was obnoxiously hot in my room.”
She laughed then, surprised she lasted that long without breaking. “So I guess you’re sick?”
“Yeah, I think so. My throat pretty much feels like the Sahara.”
“Sounds like it, too. I’ll tell Michael you’re not coming in.” She hesitateed before asking, “Do you need anything?”
It occurred to her that she probably wouldn’t have hesitated before, when they were just best friends. But the newness of their relationship into something more was intimidating. It was a little strange, the transformation from best friends for so many years to more, to everything, but at the same time it was effortless. Sometimes, like now, it still felt so new, even though they’d been dating for a few months. Other times she would swear they’d been together for years.
But this was the first time that one of them had gotten sick since they started dating. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but this felt natural, so she went with it.
“No,” he sighed, which almost sort of sounded like a groan at the same time.
“Make sure to drink plenty of fluids. Have some hot tea or soup for your throat, too. And sleep when you can. I’ll be over after work, okay?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
She laughed. “I’ll try.” Then she noticed Dwight staring her down from his desk. “Dwight says he hopes you feel better.”r32;
Dwight’s eyes widened in what looked like disgust. “No, Pam! No, I didn’t say that.”
Jim chuckled weakly. “I’m sure he does.”
x-x-x
Pam was surprised at how long the day could seem. She thought she would be used to it after all the endless days when Jim was in Stamford, but this was different. He was closer, they were together, and he was sick. The combination of those things made it necessary for her to talk herself out of going to his house early seven or eight times. And that was just the pre-lunch count.
But finally, finally five o’clock came, and she was the first one out the door. She wanted to stop by the drugstore on her way to Jim’s, because knowing him, he’d be lucky if there was tylenol in the house. One of the things she discovered when they began dating was how hilariously understocked his apartment was. (“But Pam, why would I need spoons when a fork works just fine?” “Cups? I have shot glasses and mugs. Pick your poison.” “Paper towels and tissues are luxuries, Beesly. Unnecessary luxuries. I have toilet paper, and that’s all I need.”) She would never understand how he could possibly buy fabric softener and air freshener, but not cups or tissues. She wouldn’t understand it, but she loved it.
At just after 5:30, she let herself into his apartment, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep. He was on the couch, toilet paper stuck up his nose, a half-filled cup of gatorade on the coffee table, and a basketball game on TV.
She laughed.
“Real nice. Laugh at your sick and possibly dying boyfriend. And by the way, knock much?”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she explained, pulling her purchases out of a plastic bag and onto his kitchen table. He strained his neck to look curiously at the items, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth getting up.
“Whatcha got there?”
“Tissues, tylenol, cough drops, Vicks nose strips, benadryl, herbal tea, and hand sanitizer.”
“Damn, Beesly. You know I’m not really dying, right?”
For a minute she felt a little embarrassed and thought she might have gone too far, but one look at his smile and she knew it was worth it. Sometimes at night she’d get lost in her head and would beat herself up over all the time they spent apart. There was still a residue of guilt she feared would never go away. He dealt with his feelings for so much longer than she did, and it was times like this she could see in his eyes how much he loved and appreciated her. How much he loved to be loved.
“You better not be. Work is so boring when you’re not there.”
She brought a garbage can to him so he could throw away the toilet paper and handed him two tissues.
“Oh, and is that all I’m good for? Entertaining you at work?”
“Of course.” Her tone told him the opposite as she curled up beside him on the couch.
“As much as I want you to stay right here, you should probably move before you get sick.” His actions told her the opposite, his arms wrapping around her tightly.
“You can’t get me sick.”
“Oh, really?” he asked with a laugh.
“Yep. My mom always used to say that to me when I was little. It made me convinced germs couldn’t pass between people who really loved each other. And I never did get her sick, so it must be true.”
He smiled, loving any time he learned more about her childhood. The way her mind worked. Her, her, her. “Must be true.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
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.
x-x-x
x-x-x
jesslikescoffee is the author of 0 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 6 members. Members who liked To Love and be Loved also liked 2435 other stories.
