Chapter 2

Part 1: Pam

On Monday, I called in sick for the first time in a year or more. I knew they would put Ryan in to watch the phone, and he always did an adequate job, so I wasn’t worried about work. And no, I wasn’t really sick; I just couldn’t face Jim yet.

Roy had seemed genuinely concerned this morning, pressing his calloused hand to my forehead, asking if I needed anything. He’d even brought me tea and buttered toast before he left, setting it gingerly beside our bed.

“I’ll call you later to check on you,” he’d said, kissing my cheek.  “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine.  I just need to rest.”

“Guess I took a lot out of you last night,” he’d said with a smug grin. “Feel better, Pami. Love you.”

“Have a good day.”

When I heard the front door close and Roy’s truck roar away, I burrowed beneath the covers and let myself cry. Why did Roy suddenly have to be so sweet?  That was a side to him few others besides me had ever seen, and part of the reason I’d fallen in love with him nine years ago.  It nearly overwhelmed me with guilt now, after where my thoughts had been since Jim had kissed me.

And yesterday, Sunday, when Roy had made love to me…it was actually painful to think about it.  Don’t get me wrong—Roy had always tried to please me, to satisfy me, and most of the time he did. Not that I would know any different, considering he’d been my first and only. When Roy had helped me get the job at Dunder Mifflin three years ago, and then I’d met Jim, I’d managed to suppress any errant romantic thoughts of him when Roy and I made love. Yesterday, I’d allowed myself to imagine Roy was Jim, and it had been the best sex of my life. I knew now how Jim’s mouth felt on mine, how his warm hands on my waist had pulled me tentatively closer, how his hair was soft and fine beneath my fingers. I knew how he’d tasted—like tequila and lime from his margarita at the Casino Night bar. I’d already known how good he always smelled, and believe me, that had weighed heavily in my fantasy yesterday when I was with Roy.

Oh, God, what did that say about me? How could I be such a terrible person? I was getting married in two weeks, and a man who was not my fiancé had excited me more with a chaste kiss than any from Roy had ever done, not even when we were first together. How could I possibly marry Roy when my feelings were so messed up? How could I not marry him, after all these years together?

My cell phone dinged on the nightstand. I flipped it open and saw it was a text. From Jim.  My traitorous heart skipped a beat.

Are you okay?

Yes, just under the weather.

You really sick?

No.

Are you gone because of me?

Yes. Partly. Things have been very…difficult.  I’m not ready to talk about it yet.

Ok.  Well, I’m here if you need anything.

I know. Thanks.

I miss you. Ryan is pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you are.

I stared at his last message for a good five minutes. No sense in lying now. Heart racing, I texted.

I miss you too.

I could imagine Jim’s expression at seeing that text, I knew his face so well. His hazel eyes would widen in surprise, maybe water a bit in emotion. Or maybe they would go all dreamy, like when he looked at me when he thought I didn’t know. It made my heart ache to remember when he’d told me he was in love with me, the devastation in his eyes when I’d rejected him. 

A few minutes later, he texted me again.

You’re making me crazy, Beesly.

I laughed.

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.

I was glad when he changed the subject.

So you’ve missed the fun this morning. I convinced Dwight that the copy machine is working by voice command. Funny how it only works for me though.

Lol. How did you do that?

Come into work and I’ll tell you :).  Right now he’s asking it to staple and collate—very loudly.

Good one.

Just passing the time.

I’ll be in tomorrow.

Maybe by then I’ll have Dwight talking to the microwave.

Well have him tell it to clean itself, will you? That thing is always a mess.

Lol. Ok. I’d better go.  Catch ya later.

Jim’s cursor went to flashing ellipses, as he seemed to continue typing for much longer than the final message. Whatever he had first intended to say, he’d changed his mind. What a hypocrite I was, when I realized I was waiting for him to text that he loved me. He didn’t though. He was trying not to push me, I could tell, but this left me wanting…It was getting harder and harder to deny what it was that I wanted. I sighed, felt my eyes fill with tears.

Bye, I texted, but he didn’t respond.

At around five that evening, I got out of bed and took a shower. I hadn’t eaten since Roy’s toast, and I felt decidedly weak and dehydrated. Roy would be home soon, so I put some pork chops on to cook. After a good long drink of water, I poured a full glass of wine.

I think you could call what I had Jim flu.

When Roy grabbed me and kissed me passionately in the kitchen later, I realized sadly that Roy would never be the cure.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The next day the camera crew interviewed me in the conference room.

Me: “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.  A little rest made me feel good as new.”

Producer: “What about Jim?”

Me: “I don’t know. Was he sick too?”

Sometimes I was extremely proud of my own sarcasm.  Of course, I went back and apologized later; it wasn’t the crew’s fault I felt like crap.

Jim and Dwight went out on a sales call, so that kept some of the pressure/guilt off for the day, allowing us only a chance for a good morning, with a few meaningful looks before he left with Dwight. They came back right at quitting time, arriving at the same time as my little sister Penny.  I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and she probably became instantly suspicious when I hugged her extra tightly and had tears in my eyes when we pulled apart.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

I shook my head, unable to put words to feelings, especially when I saw over her shoulder how stricken Jim looked at my distressed expression as an annoyed Dwight brushed past and went to his desk. We stood like an island in the stream of my departing coworkers.

“I’m just happy to see you,” I said to my sister, forcing a smile I didn’t feel.

We were all interrupted when my friend Isabel and two other old high school buddies came through the door, all wearing fake tiaras, fluffy pink boas, and Bachelorette Party sashes.

“Surprise!” they said in unison.

“Welcome to your surprise bachelorette party!” They squeed like teenagers.

“What? It’s a work night, and the wedding’s two weeks away!” I protested, sounding lame to my own ears.

“That’s what makes it such a surprise, silly,” said Penny, a pretty smile on her angelic face.  “Get your stuff; you’re being kidnapped and taken to an unknown location.”

“Excuse me,” said Jim, since Penny, the girls and I were now blocking the way.

I remembered my manners. “Oh, uh, everybody, this is Jim.  Jim, this is my sister Penny, and my friends from Scranton High, Isabel, Cassie, and Claire.”

My girlfriends, having heard mention of Jim over the years, stared at my tall friend in awe at his adorableness. I felt my face flush with a weird kind of pride.

“Nice to finally meet you,” said Penny. I wanted to slug her suddenly, but I didn’t quite know why. Jim, of course, was all Jim Charming.

“Wow, Beesly, I thought you only hung out with nerds in high school.”

My still-dorky friends tittered like the quarterback had given them the eye.

“You know,” said Cassie flirtatiously, “no rule says guy friends can’t come.”

“Oh, well, thank you, but I can already tell I’m not cool enough for this party.”

I caught his eye; I was in no mood to celebrate my upcoming nuptials, and his smile faltered a bit as he once again read my mind.  And then he came to my rescue.

“Sure you’re feeling up to it, Pam? You were home sick just yesterday.”

“What?” Penny said, “Roy didn’t tell me you’d been sick. He said you’d been stressed out and a party might loosen you up.”

I bristled at that, but said tightly: “That was sweet of him.” Jim raised an eyebrow.  It was then I realized the doc crew was recording this entire scene.

“Well, if you felt well enough to come into work, I bet you could make it out for at least a quick drink,” said Isabel. “Come on, Pam. It’ll be good for you. Have a little fun. Your days as a single girl are numbered, you know.”

But the decision seemed to be out of my hands, as Penny rummaged through my desk drawer for my purse, and Claire grabbed my sweater from the back of my chair.  As if from thin air, a tiara appeared in Isabel’s hand, and she placed it upon my head while Jim looked on in amusement.

Help, I mouthed, but he shrugged and gave his trademark smirk. As I was whisked away by my well-meaning friends, he waved cheerfully and smiled, then turned away to get his stuff to leave for the day.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Four shots, a beer, and a couple of unidentified fruity mixed drinks Isabel and Claire procured from the bar, and I was probably as drunk as I’d been during the last Dundies at Chili’s. For the first time in several days, I felt light and happy and free. We were in a club and the music was loud, the drinks expensive. When I looked around, I noticed there were mostly women, and there was a big stage in the middle of the dance floor. I’d been blindfolded since we’d left my favorite Italian restaurant (where I’d already had two glasses of wine) but once we got inside, I quickly realized what kind of place this was.  I’d driven by The Diamond Room in the past, but it was normally a gentlemen’s club. Lucky me they were doing a male dance review tonight.  

The MC came out on stage to introduce the show, the music abruptly shifting to the opening trumpet salvo from the disco hit, “YMCA.”

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen! We all know that sometimes it takes a village to please a woman—you guys out there know what I mean, am I right?”

It was the women in the audience (including me, I might add) who screamed in the affirmative.

“Well, we aim to please!”

The music was cranked up, and in came the evening’s entertainment, all dressed in costumes like the old band The Village People, complete with cop, Native American, construction worker, cowboy, biker dude, and sailor.  I’m sure there was copyright infringement going on all over the place, but as the song shifted to “Macho Man,” and the guys on the stage started doing their thing, no one was caring too much.

“If you make me get a lap dance, I’ll kill you,” I yelled in my sister’s ear.  She pretended not to hear me, just smiled, looking purposefully obtuse. Great.

From there, things get a little hazy for me. I remember drinking some more and sticking lots of dollar bills into lots of g-strings, but I think after I went outside for some fresh air (I remember it was extremely hot inside the club, the air oppressive with all the strong perfumes around me), I lost a big chunk of time. 

I do vaguely remember a call, a kiss, and waking up in the hospital, but not many of the details.  Someday, I’ll have to ask the camera crew for that footage. Maybe they can help me fill in some of those pesky blanks.  Or not. Maybe I don’t want to know.

Part 2: Jim

So there I was, minding my own business, watching a basketball game on a weeknight, when I got a call from Pam.  A very drunk, very freaked out Pam.

“Jim! I’m too drive to drunk and they won’t let me back in the club and my purse is gone and can you come and get me?”  Impressive that she said that all in one breath.

You would think my first thought would have been: Have you called Roy?  You know, your fiancé? In fact, after feeling my heart skip a beat at the sound of her obvious distress, there was the additional instant fear knowing she was drunk and alone and possibly in danger. I was already putting on my shoes and grabbing my keys.

“Where are you?” In the background I could hear the faint beat of dance music.

“The Diamond Room. Penny isn’t answering her phone and I’m standing outside.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what was going down, but I was already out the door and sprinting to my car.

“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay on the phone with me.”

“Okay.  I’m sorry Jim,” she said, her voice slurred.  “You don’t deserve any of this. It’s all my fault.”

I got in my car, put her on speaker as I backed down the driveway and sped toward the interstate.

“Explain to me exactly why you’re outside the club.”

She gave a very convoluted answer, but I was able to decipher that she had gone out for air, and the club policy is that you can’t get back in unless you pay. She’d left her purse in the club with her sister, so she had no money, and it was so loud inside (and Penny was probably drunk too) that she didn’t hear Pam trying to call her.

During my drive, I tried to soothe her, but she kept apologizing to me. I don’t think it was because she’d called me in the middle of the night to come and get her. She was sorry for what she’d been putting me through since I kissed her. While I appreciated that, she was drunk and so it didn’t count. Nothing that she said or did tonight counted; I had to keep telling myself that as I listened to her alcohol roughened voice, all girly and sweet and sexy. Like that night at the Dundies.

Shit.

That was the first time she’d kissed me, and I don’t even know if she remembered it. I definitely hadn’t brought it up in the days after. Whatever the case, it counted with me.

“I’ve been so stupid,” she was saying.  “Will you ever forgive me?”

Oh, God, was she drunk crying now?

“There’s nothing to forgive Pam. Please, don’t cry. I’m almost there. Can you sit in your car maybe?  Just don’t start it or they can get you for drunk driving.”

“Oh! My car! I didn’t drive!” She laugh-cried hysterically. “I totally forgot! We came in a limo.  There it is over there! I’m going to sit in there. It’s big and pink, Jim, like Pepto-Bismol, or the Path Pinker. The Pith Panker. Crap. My tongue isn’t working right!”

I laughed. “The Pink Panther?”

“Yes! You’re so smart Jim. You’ve always been so smart.  Damn! This door is so heavy! How the hell am I supposed to shut the door once I’m in here?”

I heard a lot more cussing--words I’d never heard from the sweet lips of Pam Beesly, then the sharp bang of a car door closing. I grinned in spite of myself.

 “Where’s the driver?”

“He’s having a smoke with the club bouncer.  They’re over by the club door.”

“Stay put. I’m just pulling into the parking lot.”  I’d made the trip in ten minutes—I couldn’t tell you how fast I was driving; I don’t remember once looking at the speedometer.

I pulled up beside the limo—and yes, it was in fact a horrendous pink. I grimaced just looking at it. Through the tinted back windows I could faintly see that someone was in there, but no way could I tell it was Pam.  I waved to the camera crew, annoyed suddenly that they had just stood by and watched the whole thing without helping her. I got out of my car, barely remembering to turn off the key. My pulse was starting to slow as relief settled over me. I opened the limo door and leaned inside.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at the picture she made.

Pam was sprawled awkwardly on the long bench seat, her skirt riding up her thighs, her blouse unbuttoned low enough that I could see her cleavage and the hint of black lace. A plastic tiara rested crookedly on her head. The low-heeled shoes she usually wore to work were on the floor instead of on her small feet. I’d just registered that her toenails were painted blue when she reached up and grabbed my arm.

“Jim! You’re here!”

I lost my balance and fell inside, heard her breathless oomph as my face landed on her soft belly.  She giggled as I struggled to sit up, no mean feat for a tall guy like me in a closed space.

“If you’re gonna do that, you should at least buy me a drink first,” she said, as I sat beside her on the seat, trying to catch my breath. She laughed at her own joke, and I knew my face was flushed from my close encounter with her torso.

“I think you’ve had enough drinks, don’t you?” I finally managed, nervously smoothing down my hair.

“Oh, come on. It’s my bachelorette party. I’m s’pose to drink.  You old pooper party.”

She was so cute, I couldn’t correct her.  I reached for her hand. It was hot and just a little clammy.

“Here, let me get you into my car, then I’ll pay to get in the club, get your purse, and tell your sister I’m taking you home.”

“Oh, wow. You got it all figgered out. I knew I called the right person for the job.”

“Couldn’t get ahold of Roy?” I asked.

“Ha! And listen to him gripe all the way home? He hates it when I drink. Says I talk too much.  No way I’m gonna marry that guy.”

“What?” I said. She’s drunk, Halpert. She has no idea what she’s saying right now.

“You’re the one I wanna marry!”  And suddenly her arms were around my neck, and she was covering every inch of my face with frantic kisses, punctuating each with murmured words that I couldn’t understand at first. My hands went up to pull her off, but she’d latched onto me like a starfish.

“I love your cheeks. And your eyes. And your forehead. And your chin. And God, I love your mouth—"

When her lips finally settled on mine, the whole world came to a crashing halt, and I just couldn’t help myself: I kissed her back. With a little moan, her hands went to my hair in an achingly familiar way, and her sneaky little tongue had me opening my mouth to her in spite of myself. Jesus, can you get a contact drunk? Because the sweet taste of rum on her tongue was making me dizzy.

I knew I had to stop this. My head knew it was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong in my heart, or in my crotch, especially when she was practically sitting in my lap. For just a few moments, I allowed myself to savor what might have been, to have this last memory to torture myself with later. Her lips tore away from mine to take in air, and her mouth drifted from mine to my ear. I shivered, my eyes closing at how good it felt, how perfect it was, having her in my arms like this.

“Lemme tell ya a secret, Jim,” she whispered.  “You made me come so hard. It’s never been like that with Roy.”

I pulled away in shock.  I hadn’t even touched her. “What? Right now?”

She laughed.  “No, silly, when—”

But she wasn’t allowed to finish that thought, because next thing I knew, I was pulled off of her and out of the open door of the limo, bumping my head hard on the door frame on the way out. I lay on the parking lot, panting and looking up into the furious face of Roy Anderson. 

“Get up, asshole!” he ordered.

I held up my hands.  “Look, man, I’m sorry. It’s not what you think—”

He laughed. “Yeah, right. Stand up, Halpert.”

“Roy!  Stop!” Pam had emerged from the limo, her face a mask of terror.

He turned angrily to his fiancé. “You shut up, bitch! I’ll deal with you later.”

Well, that did it. My fear for Pam totally overshadowed my fear for myself.  I got to my feet, and managed to get one good punch in before his giant fist clocked me so hard I thought my eye socked was going to explode. Everything went black, and my last memory was when the back of my head hit the cold, hard pavement.