Pam watched intently as an uninhibited warm grin spread slowly across a young Jim’s face. She remained unaware of the soft tears that sat patiently on her waterline, not quite ready to fall. She did, however, sense her husband’s gaze over her. Like the shade of a tree on a summer’s day, it softened the experience. He moved his hand between the lines of their legs, reaching intuitively to take her fingers between his own. It was innocent but intimate, and relieved an inexplicably intense urge to be close to each other.
Pam continued to watch as a younger version of herself slept contentedly on Jim’s shoulder. She remembered, suddenly and vividly, how it had felt in that moment. She was drained of all restraint and it had so naturally filled the void of companionship, which was rooted so deep. In truth, she had been only half asleep, but now that she watched the scene unfold, she thought of it as half awake. It had been so organic, a progression that in half-repose was so unhindered by the obstacles of that time. She could have left her head on his shoulder for all of time. It had given her a feeling that, at the time, she’d been unable to put a name to. Now she knew. It was the feeling of deep companionship.
As the couple watched their younger selves awkwardly smile to each other upon Pam’s awakening, their hands tightened grip. Jim had initially tightened his hold as a show of comfort but Pam’s grasp was tight in return, as though filled with fear that he might disappear the moment she let go. Jim’s eye-line oscillated between his wife and the television. It was a bizarre nostalgia for a yesterday that had been the making of him. Looking at his wife, with her coily curls and a timid disposition, he thought of all the love he had in his heart for that version of her. He had loved her so much then; he loved her so much now.
“Not a bad day.” Jim grinned before thoughtfully looking up to his right. He was so unreservedly happy. Years on, watching himself he still recalled every butterfly she had delivered him. He recalled the significance he had afforded in their every exchange. His thoughts, though, were abruptly interrupted by the sudden dispatch of his hand. Pam fled the conference room, her face shielded by the angle at which she ran. Jim watched her disappear, a softly emotional confusion taking hold of his expression. He swiftly followed.
It wasn’t until they reached the stairwell that Jim uttered a word. “Pam?” He was following behind her, as she found a seat on the top step. She held her head in her hands for a moment before looking up to him as he moved to be in front of her. He observed her eyes, wide and tearful. “Hey.”
“I didn’t know.” Pam wept; the tears that had waited had made their break forming gentle, glistening lines down her noticeably pink cheeks. Jim bowed his head silently. “You just… you looked like…” Pam searched her mind for the right words. “…Like it made your day.”
Jim’s head tilted affectionately to one side, gazing at his wife with the same softness in his eyes that had always been there for her. “It did. You’ve been making my day for a really long time. Every day, since I met you.” His voice was so gentle as he uttered every syllable with a delicacy of consideration, as though delivery weighed as much as it had that night, years earlier, in the parking lot. It was as though some hidden part of him was as insecure as always, as though one wrong word could undo the tie they had bound.
“I just want to… go back in time and tell you that it’ll be more than that.” Pam sighed breathlessly, awed by the romanticism of his intonation. She wondered how she had once managed to lift her head from his sweet, warm shoulder that had been so delicately molded for the shape of her.
“You didn’t need to tell me it would be worth the wait. You never needed to promise me that it would be more than just what it was. I promise, waiting for you – it wasn’t all bad.” Jim smiled at her, unapologetically. His heart swelled at the sight of her, moved by events so long past. She looked up at him, redness apparent over the whites of her eyes. There was communication and understanding that passed through their every glance, this one more profound than most.
A moment came where Jim moved to acknowledge the change. The one-time stasis had resolved, while on his left hand his ring burned for recognition. He stepped forward just as Pam’s expression broke to a smile. He leaned over to kiss her, and she tenderly took his face in her hands, his cheeks more hollow than they once might have been. They followed a passionate, expressive kiss with a sweet, chaste one. Jim lingered a moment, his lips near hers, before moving to make a seat beside his wife.
On that top step, Pam moved her head into the curve of her husband’s neck as he intertwined their fingers once more. Their hands tightened together, creating a fist symbolic of the strength they had given one another. Pam was comfortable now, contentment no longer ephemeral as she recognized the normality of their embrace. It need never end.
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