It was around 3 AM when he heard his phone ring, its screen flashing with a name he hadn’t seen in months.  A name he would only whisper to himself under the steaming water of the shower in his new apartment.  Just to remind himself that she was real.  That she had really happened.

“Pam?”

“Jim!  Oh, Jim! Hello Mr. Halpert! Hi Jim!”

“Uh, hey Pam.  Everything okay?”

He heard shuffling on the other end of the line.  “Ouch!  One second, Jim!  My clip!  I think my clip is digging into the back of my skull and just sucking out my brain cells!  One second Jim, my clip, it just needs to be fixed!”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself in the darkness.

“Pam?  Who are you with?  Are you okay? Are you... drunk?”

“Of course I’m okay Jim! Of course I’m okay!  I’m with Meredith, at Poor Richard’s!  And I don't know if I would call myself drunk, Jim, but I did have lots of margaritas!  They tasted like blue, Jim."

"They tasted like blue?"

"Yes!"

He tried to hide the sound of a smile in his voice.  "Makes sense.  Does blue taste good?"

"Oh, blue tastes delicious Jim."

"Oh yeah?"

"Actually, now that I think about it... you taste like blue, Jim!  Delicious and sweet, just like blue!"

"I-- I do?" He felt the warmth in his cheeks spread across his face. 

"You do!  So I drank lots of blue tonight.  A man, his name is Dave, I think, he bought me the blue drinks.  And another man, he bought me some gold coloured drink.  But it tasted like yuck, Jim.  Meredith said I had to come out with tonight, to meet men.  Not boys, Jim!  Men!”

When he was around 11 years old, he came home from school and told his mom about a little blonde girl in his class.  Amy Potts.  He told his mom about how pretty he thought she was, how she was always nice to him when he’d always kind of had a hard time becoming friends with girls, especially pretty ones.  But Amy was different and his stomach always felt weird when she was around.

She’d told him that that fluttery feeling in his stomach, those were the butterflies.

And Jim was pretty sure Pam had killed every single butterfly within him, with her bare hands.  Every time she kissed Roy.  Every time he caught her looking at him and she looked away.  And now, when she was on the hunt for men. Men who were there to buy her blue and gold drinks.  As if he wasn’t man enough for her.  As if he couldn’t be the one to take care of her.  He wondered if she thought Dave tasted like blue too.  He couldn't control what came spilling out of his mouth.

"Did he taste like blue too?" 

"No, he didn't.  He tasted more like... green.  Yeah, green." 

And this is exactly why he’d moved to Stamford.   He didn’t need this in his life.  He couldn’t handle this. 

“Sorry I wasn’t man enough for you.”

“Oh, Jim, no.  You’re, like… well I remember, one time, I caught this peek of the hair on your chest and—“

He couldn’t bear to hear her talk like this.  He knew her drunken thoughts didn’t always translate to her real feelings.  Just like that kiss, at Chili’s. 

He interrupted her before she could continue.  He imagined where her thoughts would take her, from his chest hair, to the hair that trailed down his stomach, to the hair that rested-- he stopped himself.  He hated his wild imagination sometimes.

“Pam.  You’re drunk.  Just… just go inside with Meredith.  Look for your green and blue and gold men and whatever.  It’s 3 in the morning and I work tomorrow and—”

“Excuse me?  Excuse me Jim?  Go inside with Meredith an—wait.  Wait, Jim. No, thank you Meredith! No, Meredith!  I said no thank you, Meredith! I’m on the phone with Jim! Yes, my Jim, Meredith!  I will come back inside when I am finished chatting with my Jim!”

“Your Jim?  Is that right Beesly?  Y’know, I’m not a piece of meat—“

He could almost feel the warmth of her sigh in his ear.  “You were my Jim, Jim.  You were my Jim.”

“I was?”  His voiced cracked and he kind of hated himself for turning into an 11 year old at this particular moment.

She didn't answer.  "And Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Blue is my favourite taste, ever." 

He was pretty sure she had single-handedly stopped his heart. 

“Hey Jim?” 

“What's up Beesly?”  Jim breathed into the phone.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Uh…” he glanced at his computer screen, resting on top of the multiple Dunder-Mifflin Code of Conduct books he had on his desk.  “April 5th, right?”

“Oh Jim!  That is perfectly right, yes!  It is April 5th!  You are so smart Jim, I always told you that. I said, 'Jim, you don't need to be working here. You're so so so so smart.  You could get a job somewhere else. Maybe in Maryland.  But then you got mad at me, I think.  Remember?”  He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, you did.  Thanks Pam.  And I didn't want to move to Maryland, I just--"

He didn't need to explain himself to her.  He didn't need to explain himself to the girl that broke his heart a thousand times over.  His cheeks burned with anger and he couldn't keep the hatred he had for her out of his voice.  

"Pam.  I'm tired. And honestly, I don't want to talk right now. Especially to you. No offence. Just go inside, it’s probably cold—“ 

It was like she didn't hear a word he said. “Jim.  It’s April 5th and that means one year ago we—“ She stretched out the word, letting it linger on her lips and he was pretty sure he was going to vomit.

“Kissed!” 

He couldn’t breathe.

“I was organizing my new apartment yesterday, Jim.  And I know you’d just love it so much.  I painted the walls pink because it’s my apartment and nobody else’s, so I could paint them pink if I want to y’know!  And I even put some flowers on the windowsill!  Really pretty flowers!”  He listened to her ramble and remembered just how much he had missed her voice.

“—And there are no sports memorabilia or things like that either, which is a big change for me, Jim, because you know Roy liked all that stuff.  But I put up some of my paintings and my drawings and of course, the teapot you gave me.  Remember?  I put it right beside the flowers!  On my windowsill!”  He heard laughter erupting from her and he couldn’t help but grin.

“Jim,” Pam managed to cough out between bouts of laughter.  “Jim, I even put up my favourite picture.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”

“Your yearbook photo Jim!  Your yearbook photo!” 

He stopped laughing and the air between them grew thick as her laughter subsided.

“Jim?  Is that… is that creepy? I knew it would be too creepy.  I knew you wouldn't like that!  I said to myself, Pam, he will find that creepy!  You aren't even friends anymore!  It's too weird, isn't it? Is that too weird?  Jim?”

His heart fluttered in his chest.  She had a picture of him on her wall. On a wall that held things close to her heart -- her paintings, her drawings, pictures of her and her family.. he was up there too.  He was up there, in the midst of the things she  loved.  He could never hate this girl, no matter how hard he tried.  There was just no way.  “No.  No, it’s cool.  And of course we're friends, Pam.  Don't even say that."

His heart broke at the thought that she thought they weren't friends anymore She was his best friend, still, even after everything that had happened.  He couldn't imagine a world where she wasn't his friend.  He didn't think he'd be able to be Jim Halpert without Pam Beesly. Not anymore.  Not now.

He tried to relieve the growing tension.  "I just… I mean, I personally wouldn’t want to see that face on my wall.  If I remember correctly… you called it dorky.” 

“It’s my favourite dorky face in the whole entire world, Jim.” 

He sat on his bed, stiffly.   Silently.

“Do you… do you have any pictures of me in your house, Jim?”

His eyes flicked to his desk.  The framed picture on his desk that Michael had taken of them, two years after he started working at Dunder-Mifflin.  Jim had been leaning over the reception desk, popping jellybeans in his mouth, when Michael had yelled “Cheese!” 

Pam had turned her face towards the camera.  Her eyes were sparkling, and her mouth was turned upward into that amazing smile of hers.  She looked like she was laughing at something he'd said. She had been leaning towards him.  In the picture, he was gazing at her, a smile spread across his own face, jellybean in hand. 

He had put the picture on his desk when he had moved to Stamford.  He tried not to.  He tried to erase her from his memories, from his home.  He’d hid his high school yearbook deep inside his closet.  He had three pictures out – one with his parents, one with his niece and nephew, and one with Pam.  He hadn’t really bothered decorating, putting up posters or banners or anything of the sort.  It just seemed… pointless.

“Uh, no.  I don’t really have any pictures of you in my house.” 

He heard her breath catch.

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, Jim.”

They listened to each other breath for a while.  He tried matching the rhythm of his breath to hers.                  

“Jim… if you wanted to put up sports posters in my apartment, you could.  I left some space, just in case you wanted to do that.”

He couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in his throat.  He could practically feel the tension between them evaporate.  “I wouldn’t force you to put up any sports posters, Pam.”

“I know Jim.  But I’d put them up because you like them.  Maybe they could go beside my paintings.” 

“Yeah.  Yeah, maybe.”

“And maybe we could even put up a picture of me and you.”

He nodded in response.  He thought maybe she’d know.  She always knew. 

“So, Jim, like I was saying.  I was cleaning my apartment.  And cleaning and organizing and cleaning and organizing and you know what I found?  Guess what I found!” 

“Um… a Dundie?”

Her laughter filled his ears.  “Jim!  Don’t make fun of me, but I put the Dundie Michael gave me last year on the windowsill!  Right beside the teapot, and the flowers!  I put the Dundie there!”

“That’s cool Pam.  I’m sure it looks great.”

“Jim.  I found a poker chip when I was cleaning up my apartment.  Because I took it.  From Casino Night.”

“What?” 

“After you left, Jim.  After you told me you loved me and then you left and then you kissed me and then you left again.  I took a poker chip.”

The bedroom seemed to spin around him and he thought about how much he hated merry-go-rounds.  “Why’d you do that?”

“Well… I did it because you kissed me.”

“You took a poker chip because I kissed you?” 

“Yes, Jim!  Yes, I did!  I took a poker chip from the casino like you took my heart from Scranton and brought it all the way to Stamford.  I am living without a heart, Jim!”

His voice caught in his throat.

There was this one time, the first year he'd starting working at Dunder-Mifflin. It was kind of their first fight.  They'd quickly become friends - no, best friends - when he started at the office.  He had come in to work one day, linger in the parking lot later than usual.  He had walked by the reception desk, hanging his coat on the back of his chair, instead of beside hers on the rack. 

He couldn't even look at her.  But he could feel her eyes boring into his skull.

He couldn't avoid her in the break room.

"Jim?  What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

She didn't want to hear his problems.  Sure, they were friends.  But they were work buddies.  Did you talk about your problems with work buddies?

"Jim.  Come on. Just be honest with me."

He turned to look at her, for the first time today and his resolve melted.  That's what she did to him.  He was in love with a girl who was engaged.  A girl who made him want to tell her the workings of his life.

"it's just... it's just something my brother said to me recently."

The story spilled out of his mouth and he couldn't control it.  Jonathan, analyzing every aspect of his mundane life.  Jonathan, telling him he'd better find somebody soon, he wasn't getting any younger.  Jonathan, rubbing his own perfect life into Jim's face.

She didn't hug him or anything like that.  He didn't expect her to.  But her fingers crept towards his, crawling underneath his hand.  And when he tightened his fingers around her small hand, she rubbed small circles into his palm.  And that's all she needed to do.

"You know, Jim.  You have... you have the biggest heart out of anybody I've ever met.  And you will-- you'll find someone. A beautiful, amazing, independent, funny woman.  Just-- just be honest with me next time, Jim." 

The remembered conversation between them forced the words to spill out of his word, into the phone.  He thanked God that he couldn't see her face. “Sometimes, I think I left my heart there, in Scranton.”

“With me?”  He could just imagine her right now.  Sitting on a curb, outside. Her hand fiddling with the non-existent ring on her finger.

“Yeah.”

“Jim?” 

“Yeah?”

“I miss you all the time, Jim.  Because everyday is April 5th, Jim.”

“What?”

“Well, everyday means something.  Everyday is all wrapped up in you and everyday I stare at your chair and you’re just not there.  You’re just not.  So everyday is April 5th.  Does that make sense, Jim?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, it does.”  

And he knows this is so unhealthy, because he just misses her so much and—“Pam, the other day, in Stamford, I was driving around, kind of touring the area.  And I saw this house.  With a terrace.  And I just stopped in front of it and… you would have liked it a lot.”

He heard her breath catch.  “I would have liked that, Jim.  Yes.”

“I know.  I know you, remember?”  He tried lightening the mood, but his joke came out flat.  Sad. 

“I remember.  You know me better than anyone.”  

“Pam?  You should really get inside.”

“Jim?”

“Yeah?” 

“You should really go home.”

He shook his head, confused.  “What?  I am home.”

“No.  No, Jim.  I meant you should come home.  You should come home.” 

She dragged out the word as if everything she’d ever wanted to say to him was wrapped up in it.

“Home?”

He heard her mumble in agreement.  “Home.”

“I don’t know, Pam.  I just—I don’t know.  This is my home now. Stamford.  And I kind of like it here.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.  It’s alright.  Good… food." 

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“I saved some room for you. To put up your sports posters.  And your pictures, with your niece and nephew.  So your pictures could be on the wall, beside mine.”

The air thickened in his room.  He wondered if she felt it too.

“I even left some room for you… in my room.  Because I picture you here.  Here, at home.”

“Oh.”

“And... and you left something here, Jim.  You have to come back and get it.”

“What?  Pam, I’ve never been to your new apartment.  I couldn’t have left anything there, maybe it was—" 

“Your heart.  Remember, you said that?  You have to come back and get it.  Because you left it here.  And plus, you have mine.  So, you’re going to need to give that back.”

“Do I—do I need to?”

“Do you need to what, Jim?”

“Give it back?  Your heart?” 

He had to strain his ears to hear her whisper “No.”

“Pam?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“Every day is April 5th for me, too.”

“It is?” 

“It is,” he murmured softly in agreement. 

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He had to squeeze his eyes shut and hold his hand against his chest because he was pretty sure if he didn’t, he’d explode. 

“You do?”

“Yeah.  Do you still love me?”

“I—“

“What?  No, I don’t want to go home yet!  Meredith!  No, I am not talking to Roy!  I’m talking to Jim!  Yes, Jim! J-I-M!  No, Meredith, don’t leave me here!  There are puddles and my shoes are getting dirty and-- yes, I’m coming! I gotta go, Jim!  Come home soon!”

It’s when the phone clicks that he finally says it.

“I love you, too.  And I’ll be there soon.”