______
Friday morning, he wakes up with a pounding headache. He wishes he could blame it on a hangover but he'd only had two drinks last night. He remembers the kiss they shared. The softness of her lips, the rush of dizziness he felt when his tongue tenatively brushed against hers, the heady feeling of her hands trailing down his chest. He remembers the resolute look in her eyes when she stopped him from taking a second kiss. Remembers the heavy feeling of defeat as he walked away.
He doesn't bother to call in sick. Simply pulls the covers over his head and wonders how he'll survive the pain.
Later that night, he tells Mark about the transfer. Mark hugs him and tells him that it's probably for the best. He's known about Pam for a long time. Knows how much of Jim's heart is invested in a woman who belongs to someone else. Mark doesn't know about his confession. Doesn't know how horribly wrong everything went the night before. But it's not hard for him to see that Jim is completely devasted. To Mark's credit, he doesn't ask any questions.
Which is good. Because Jim doesn't have any answers, anyway.
On Saturday, he tells his parents. His mother cries and his father clasps a loving hand on his shoulder and tells him he's proud. He asks if the move will be permanent. Jim isn't sure if he can even make it through the rest of the day. Making any plans beyond that seems impossible right now.
On Monday morning, he calls Jan's office and finalizes the details of the transfer. She offers him two weeks of paid time off for his move to Stamford and he is beyond grateful that he won't have to finish out his time at the Scranton office.
Two days later, he drives to Stamford for the first time and signs a one-year lease on a tiny, one bedroom apartment. The unit is brand new as evidenced by the stark white walls and the distinctive smell of the freshly laid carpet. He takes this as a good sign. Maybe he really can start over, he thinks. Maybe one day he really will be able to forget.
Thursday night, Toby lets him into the office after hours to gather his things. He had planned never to step foot inside this office again but there are some things in his desk that he can't bear to part with just yet. Toby congratulates him on his new job and offers him some privacy. Tells him to take as much time as he needs and to lock up behind himself when he's ready to leave.
Once he's alone, he grabs a small box and sits down at his desk.
One week ago, he had stood in this exact spot and kissed the only girl that he has ever loved. And she had kissed him back.
Then she had pushed him away. Again.
Everything had changed that night. Everything and nothing.
He takes a deep breath and packs his things as quickly as possible. Picture frames, his coffee mug, the small stack of her drawings that he had collected over the years, his favorite pen, a pile of expense receipts, an old, half empty pack of gum, his client rolodex. He indiscreminately shoves everything into the box until there is nothing left on or in his desk except his computer and the ancient phone system that hasn't been updated since he'd begun working here.
He takes one long, last look around the office before hoisting himself onto his feet and walking away. It takes everything he has, but he doesn't even glance at her desk as he makes his way towards the door.
By Sunday afternoon, he's moved all of his things into his new apartment. He has been out of college for six years and everything he owns fits into the back of his car. He tries not to think about what that means. He buys a new bed, a couch and a set of dishes. He makes his bed, hangs his clothes in the closet and unpacks the essentials. There are quite a few boxes left but he quickly loses interest. He'll get to the rest, later, he reasons.
He has nothing but time now, anyway.
Phylis calls on Tuesday. She asks how he is settling in and wishes him well at his new job. She tells him that everyone misses him terribly. Tells him that Pam had cried for nearly an hour after Michael announced his transfer and that she had been quiet and withdrawn ever since. He changes the subject as quickly as he can. He doesn't want to be rude but he can't bear to talk about Pam. He doesn't want to know how she is doing. Doesn't want to care. For years, he has tried not to love her. But it hadn't worked then and it sure as hell isn't working now.
Friday night, he sits on his balcony and slowly drinks a bottle of cheap scotch. The air is warm and smells faintly of salt. It's a beautiful night. But he is utterly miserable.
He thinks of her constantly. He tries not to but he just can't seem to stop. He wonders what she's doing at that very moment. Is she finalizing plans for the wedding? He can picture her sitting at her kitchen table in a pair of faded cotton pajama pants, her knees drawn up under her chin and her brow furrowed as she worries over the seating chart. Is she painting? Sitting cross-legged on the floor in an old pair of jeans while she struggles to express her thoughts on a blank, white canvas. Is she home alone tonight while Roy is out partying with his friends? Is she thinking of him at this exact same moment the same way that he is thinking about her? Does she regret her choices? Does she miss him? Does she love him?
Is there any part of her that feels the same gut-wrenching pain that he is feeling right this very moment?
He wants to be a mature, selfless person. He wants to wish her every happiness in the world. Even if it's not with him. But he knows that he would make her happier than anyone else ever could. Knows that he would give her absolutely every part of himself. Knows that he would love her more than anyone else in the whole world. He wonders why she can't see that? Wonders why it's not enough for her?
He's alone and lonely in this god-forsaken city and she's three hours away, preparing to marry a man who will never be good enough for her. Who will never love her like he can. And it's all her fault. Because he wants to love her like she deserves to be loved. Because he wants to give her every single goddamn piece of himself.
But she can't.
He takes another long gulp from the bottle. By now, he's so far gone that he doesn't even feel the burn.
______
Author's Chapter Notes:
Over the last few months, I have been terrible at updating and even worse at reviewing. My life fell apart at the beginning of the summer and I'm just now starting to put the pieces back together. This story is my attempt to work through some of the angst in my life and (hopefully!) through the intense writer's block I've had. You guys are the best. Really.
I own nothing. No infringement intended.
I own nothing. No infringement intended.
