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Roy slowly makes his way to the front door of the place he temporarily calls home. The Victorian-style house sat alone, surrounded by pine trees and a little over a mile off of the main road. The only thing guiding his path is the moonlight cascading through the trees. He fights through the weeds and fallen branches that have taken over his yard, the landscaping having not been kept up with since before he had moved in. He didn’t mind, though. He enjoyed the randomness of nature, how the grass near the driveway grew slower than all the rest or how the trees in the backyard dropped more branches than the ones in the front. The randomness stops at the door, though, as he walks into his house, surveying the neatness in which he has always preferred.

Most nights, he walks into his house, pours a glass of whiskey, and settle on the tan corduroy couch that he has learned to appreciate. He had originally hated the plastic lamps with fake brass and the cheap, plain cotton curtains. It was all Scranton had to offer, though, when he went out to find just enough furniture to make his house look presentable.

But tonight, he isn’t worried about his home décor or that glass of whiskey. All he can think about is Pam and how he almost ruined everything with her… again. He pushed her too hard, the look on her face when he asked about the locket and then again just twenty minutes ago on her porch killed him. He hated seeing her question him, calling him out on his mistakes. She was stubborn, was becoming a challenge. But, if he was honest with himself, he also sort of liked that. After all, he resented weakness.

And, he has come to find out, Pam was anything but weak. Why was she living in a town like this? Pam, he thought, deserved to live in a city. Somewhere with crowded sidewalks, flashy signs, quick insults, and snarky comebacks. Scranton has nothing to offer her and everything she is capable of. She was so much more than this town, and if she stayed here, she would ultimately end up growing weak, just like his mother had. And, in time, there would be nothing to respect.

Just like his mother. The victim. Always the victim.

He remembers a time when he was only six years old. He stood on his front lawn and watched as his mother, donning a black eye and bloody lip, quickly packed the car. They had just under an hour before his father, Neville, arrives home for lunch. This was the third time his mother, Edith, had tried to leave, but she never made it past the front door the last two times. Roy was hopeful this time, since they had made it out to the car, a suitcase in the trunk and $37 worth of assorted change in her purse.

It had taken her over a year to save up even that much. Neville handled all the finances, never letting Edith near the checkbook. Any money she managed to get a hold of was the change that fell out of Neville’s pockets when he would fall asleep in front of the television. She would then save it in a detergent box on the top shelf of the laundry room, heart racing anytime Neville went in that direction.

Roy was sure she was planning on saving up some more before another attempt at escape, but after that previous night, he doesn’t blame her for leaving early.

Roy had been in bed, trying to sleep, when he heard his mother crying. Begging Neville to stop, that she was sorry she hadn’t gotten the laundry finished like he asked. He heard the crack of his father’s hand hitting his mother’s cheek, and the crash of her body against the wall a minute later. She had tried to explain that she had to take their son to the doctor’s but was only met with cursing and accusations. “He doesn’t look like me! He isn’t mine!!”

Roy hoped that was true. He didn’t want to be related to the monster who beats his mother and curses at him. The one who drinks until he can’t walk and smokes until he can only cough. It would be the best news he’d ever heard if he found out that he truly wasn’t his father’s son.

Now, his mother turns to him and tells him to run inside and grab the loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter, they’re going to be going on a picnic. “Grab your jacket, too, in case it gets cold. And hurry…” she pauses, looking down the street where his father would be coming soon to enjoy lunch at home, “we want to make sure we can find a good table at the park.”

He ran inside, knowing they don’t have much time left. Even at six years old, he knew they should have left the moment his father disappeared over the hill on his way to work. But he watched as his mother sat at the kitchen table, smoking cigarette after cigarette, her hands shaking. It wasn’t until approximately 20 minutes ago that she got up, hurrying to her room to pack a bag, muttering that she was leaving this time. Really leaving. For good. If she didn’t, he would kill her, and then her son. She couldn’t let that happen, so she had to leave. No coming back. She repeated this to herself as Roy watched from the doorway, a mantra that he knew she repeated in order to give her the strength to keep going.

He ran back out to the car, slamming the door to the Pontiac closed as he dropped the bread, peanut butter, and his jacket to the floor. He looked over at his mother, her eyes bloodshot and her smile crooked due to her swollen lip, it almost scared him. But she gripped the car key that she had quietly stolen off of his father’s key ring this morning. Neville always walked to work, but brought the jumbled and crowded key ring with him every day, making sure his wife wouldn’t be able to leave. She had managed to sneak it off while he had his morning cigarette and coffee on the back deck, hiding it in the freezer until she finished packing the suitcase.

Now that key was the only thing standing in between their present and their future. It was the key to their escape (literally), but also the key to their new lives, to new promises, to new starts. She tries to start the car but misses the ignition, her hands shaking harder than they had earlier that day. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her hands and calm her nerves. She inserts the key and turns the car over, both listening to the engine roar to life. Roy grinned up at his mother, only to watch her face fall. He followed her gaze to the dashboard, seeing the fuel gauge is on E. They wouldn’t have been able to make it out of Boston, let alone far enough to truly escape.

So, they stayed. Again.

That night, he heard his parents in their bedroom again. This time, though, their voices weren’t laced with anger, instead with laughter in between kisses. He then heard his mother’s heavy breaths and his father’s name on her lips. The next morning, after getting out of bed and going down to the kitchen, he saw his father’s hands resting on his mother’s skirt. Neville gives a sly smirk to Roy, winking as his hands slide a little further down his mother’s sides.

His mother had turned weak.

Roy snaps out of his flashback, leaning back against the front door. He shakes his head, Pam couldn’t stay here. Not if she wanted to lead the life she was meant to. He would get her out of here, make sure she got the life she deserved. She wouldn’t get it here.

He was stupid to have said anything about the locket. Stupid. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

Lost in thought, he barely registered his phone ringing. He pushes off of the door and walks over to it before the machine can pick it up. He sees the Salt Lake City area code and takes a deep breath before answering.

 

***

 

Pam covers her head with her pillow, trying to block out the growl that Singer has been letting out for over an hour. Her head was pounding, allergies finally kicking in and giving her their all. Singer doesn’t care though, even after she throws a pillow at him. He ignores it, staring at her bedroom door, not getting any quieter.

“Singer, shut up. My head is killing me, and I have work in the morning, I need to sleep.”

He was determined, though, keeping his stance at the door.

“There’s nothing out there, it’s the middle of the night. I’m not getting out of bed.”

He continued to growl, not sinister or any snarling, not even the sounds he made when men came to check on the water meter or – God forbid – deliver the mail. Just a low, constant rumble that was just too loud to ignore.

She throws the pillow covering her head at him, which makes him stop growling and Pam sighs, grateful. She covers her eyes with her arm, trying to will her headache to go away so she can finally sleep. It doesn’t last long, as Singer shoves his nose into her ear and she groans, sitting up.

“Fine! That’s it!”

Singer wags his tail, looking up at her, Now we’re getting somewhere, let’s go.

Pam grudgingly follows Singer out of the bedroom, expecting him to turn towards the back door so he can investigate the line of trees. Instead, he goes to the front window, pushing the curtain aside and peeking out. Pam joins him, seeing nothing but her neighbor’s houses and a couple of lamp posts, nothing that shouldn’t be there. “See, I told you. Nothing.”

Singer huffs and goes to the front door, scratching it once. Pam raised an eyebrow at him.

“If you go out, I’m not waiting up for you. I’m going back to bed. So, if you go out, you’re staying out.”

Singer doesn’t move, so she opens the front door, expecting him to bolt out. He surprises her for the second time tonight by slowly stepping out onto the porch. Pam steps out onto the porch, crossing her arms over her chest as he barks twice before sniffing the ground. He looks out towards the street once more before looking up at her, The coast is clear, we’re safe now. You can go to bed.

“You’re joking.”

He steps around her, going back inside. She follows behind him, closing and locking the door behind her. “You really kept me up for that?” He looks up at her, What? I protected you. She rolls her eyes, and she doesn’t care if she’s acting like a toddler, she stomps around him and back upstairs. She glances back when she reaches the top of the stairs after not hearing Singer follow behind her. He’s back at the window, curtains pushed aside, staring straight ahead. “Whatever,” she mumbles, walking to the bathroom to take a Tylenol. He’s still at the window when she walks back to her bedroom, so she closes the door behind her, then picks her pillows up off the floor before getting back into bed.

When he started snarling and barking an hour later, this time in earnest, Pam didn’t hear him.

 

***

 

The next morning, Pam throws her hair up into a loose pony and grabs a pair of sunglasses. Her headache was still lingering, though she was grateful it wasn’t as blinding as it had been the night before. Singer stands beside her now as she takes out the letter from under the windshield wiper of her Jeep.

 

Pam,

Got called out of town due to an emergency. I won’t be able to see you for a few days, but I’ll call as soon as I can. I won’t stop thinking of you.

                                                                                                                                                                -Roy

 

She looks down at Singer who is looking up at her expectantly. She turns the note towards him, “This is what made you keep me up for hours last night? Roy?”

She rolls her eyes when he gets a smug look on his face, I told you someone was here.

“Don’t give me that. He didn’t even come up to the door. And besides, you know him, so you have to get over this.”

She swears he rolls his eyes right back at her before turning to stand at the back of the Jeep. She opens the back door and he jumps in. After closing the door she walks over and gets into the driver’s seat, looking in the rearview mirror to see Singer’s back turned to her. She lightly scoffs, “Yeah, well I’m mad at you, too.”

He doesn’t look at her the whole drive to work, he doesn’t even hang his head out the window like he usually does. She opens the door for him after parking and even though she calls after him, he walks around her and crosses the street, heading towards the garage.

Dogs.

Sometimes, she thought, they were just as childish as men.

 

***

 

Jo was on the phone, cancelling all of Kelly’s lessons for the day. She had decided to take another “personal day,” the fifth one this month. Jo was just glad that Kelly had at least called to let her know this time. There was no doubt Kelly would come in tomorrow with some crazy story. Her last personal day, she swore she saw Usher walking through the local Walmart. She ended up following him around all day before finally realizing it wasn’t actually him. The question of why Usher would be hanging out in a Walmart in Scranton, Pennsylvania never seemed to cross her mind.

She’s just hanging up the phone when the bell above the door jingles, and she turns to see Pam walking in. Jo reaches for her box of treats before realizing that Pam had walked in alone. “Where’s Singer?”

Pam drops her purse onto a shelf near her station. “He went to visit Jim.”

“Again?”

She shrugs, “We had a fight.”

Jo smiles, remembering Pam would hold the same tone whenever her and Mark got into a fight. Pam didn’t seem to realize how ridiculous it may sound to other people, though. “A fight, huh?”

“Yeah.” Pam washes her hands before double checking her schedule, “So I guess he’s off pouting, like he’s punishing me for having the nerve to yell at him. But he deserved it.”

“Ah,” Jo says, sitting down in her desk chair, “What was the fight about?”

Pam tells her about Roy waiting for her at her house yesterday and then Singer’s growling escapade last night.

“He left a note to apologize?”

“No, he apologized at the house, after I got home from work. He left a note on my Jeep last night, which is Singer why was growling. He’s going to be out of town for a few days and wanted to let me know.”

Jo wanted to ask more, specifically about how his apology went, but she could tell by the look on Pam’s face that she didn’t want to talk about it. She puts the box of treats back into her desk and looks over at Singer’s blanket in the corner. “Feels kind of empty without him here, like we’re missing a couch or something.”

She chuckles, “He’ll be back soon, you know how he is.”

To both of their surprise, eight hours later, Singer still hadn’t come back.

 

***

 

“I tried bringing him over a couple of times,” Jim said, looking about as perplexed as Pam felt. “But any time I went out the door, he stopped. I even tried bribing him with some beef jerky, but nothing worked. I thought about dragging him but I’m pretty sure he’s stronger than I am.”

Pam looks at Singer who is sitting next to Jim, head tilted to the side as he looks up at her. “Are you really still mad at me, Singer? Is that what all of this is about?”

“Why would he be mad at you?”

“We had a fight.”

“Oh.”

She looks back down at Singer, “Well, come on. Are you just going to sit there all day or are you going to come home?”

Singer licked his lips but didn’t move.

“Singer, come.”

He stayed beside Jim.

“Heel.”

Jim chuckled, knowing Pam had never used that command before; she must not know what else to say to get Singer to listen. He looks down at the stubborn dog and waves his hand toward her, “Go on, before you get into even more trouble.”

With that, Singer stands and, reluctantly, goes over to Pam. She raises an eyebrow at him, “So, you’re only listening to Jim now?”

“Hey, don’t blame me.” He holds his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t do anything.”

“I’m not blaming you. I just,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

Singer looks up at her, What?

She shakes her head and looks back at Jim, “So, what did he do here all day?”

“Snored, loudly. Stole my ham sandwich when I got up to get a drink, went around back to do his business. Just kind of hung out.”

“Did he seem strange to you?”

“Nope. Besides not wanting to leave, he seemed fine. Normal Singer.”

“He didn’t seem angry?”

Jim runs a hand through his hair and glances down at Singer. He wanted to smile, but he knew how seriously Pam viewed this. “He didn’t say anything to me, but I was kind of busy today. Want me to ask Danny? Maybe they talked while I was out.”

Her eyes narrow a little, “Are you making fun of me, Halpert?”

“No, never. You know I’d never do something like that.”

“Good. After almost losing my dog to someone else, I’m not really in the jokey mood.”

“You didn’t lose him, he was with me.”

“And now he likes you better than me.”

Jim shrugs, “Maybe he just misses me. I am quite addictive, you know.”

For the first time since arriving at the garage, Pam smiles, “You are, huh?”

“It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“It must be so hard being you.”

He quickly glances her over, her pale pink cardigan wrapped tightly around her, her white keds a deep contrast to the tan skin she had achieved over the summer, her hair starting to fall out of her ponytail. She always complained about being plain, but he never saw her that way. Even in her work clothes, she looked beautiful.

He shakes his head, “You have no idea.”

 

***

 

An hour later, Pam is standing over her sink, three towels over the now broken faucet, trying to stop the fountain that has decided to take residence in her kitchen. She grabs another towel off of the counter and adds it to the pile, tightening her grip. She manages to get the water to stop spraying upwards, but what is still spraying out turns towards her instead. She lifts her chin, trying to keep the water from hitting her face. She yells at Singer in the other room, “Can you please get my phone for me??”

A moment later, Singer comes trotting into the kitchen. She uses her free hand to take her cell out of his mouth, wiping it off on her pants before pressing the first number on her speed dial.

 

***

 

Jim had been sitting in his recliner, a bag of Cheetos in one hand, the remote in the other, and a beer wedges between his legs. He had already finished the Big Mac he picked up on his way home, so this was the remains of his dinner. Although the TV was on, he wasn’t actually paying attention to it. Instead, he was daydreaming of playing at the Staples center, tickets sold out, everyone cheering his name.

His hand slipped into the bag of Cheetos, the adoration from all of his fans washing over him.

The phone beside him suddenly blaring startles him, causing him to jolt up, Cheetos flying across the room and beer spilling in his lap. As if it would do anything, he tried to wipe the beer off, but just ended up with orange Cheeto dust all over his crotch.

“Crap,” he muttered before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jim,” Pam said, and he knew she was stressed about something just by the tone of her voice. “Are you busy?”

He shifted in his seat, hoping to get more comfortable as the beer continues to soak through his jeans. He grimaces as the beer instead worked its way to the seat of his pants. “Not really.”

“You sound distracted.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing. Just had a little accident with dinner.”

“What?”

“Nothing. What’s up?”

She sighed a little, “I need you.”

“You do?” His ego inflated, he almost forgot about his practically ruined jeans and the Cheetos now covering his living room.

“My faucet exploded.”

“Oh.” And, just like that, his ego once again deflated to its normal size. “How did that happen?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I mean, did you pull on it or something?”

“No, I just turned it on and now there’s a geyser in my house.”

He chuckles, “Was it loose before?”

“I really don’t know. Can you come over or not?”

He looks down at his lap, “Um, I’m going to have to change my pants first.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. I’ll be there in a bit, I have to swing by the hardware store to buy you a new faucet.”

“You won’t be long, will you? My hand is starting to go numb from holding onto these rags, and I really have to pee. If I cross my legs any harder, my knees are going to snap.”

“I’m on my way.”

He hangs up and rushes to get dressed. In his haste to get changed and out the door, coupled with the prospect of seeing Pam, he had only fallen once while trying to pull on some new jeans.

It seemed pretty reasonable to him considering the circumstances.

 

***

 

Jim opens Pam’s front door, calling out her name as he steps inside.

“In here! Something just happened, though. It stopped leaking. Maybe I ran out of water.”

He chuckled as he made his way to the kitchen, “I just shut off the water with the valve up front. You can let it go now, it should be fine.”

Jim turned the corner and was met with a soaking wet Pam. She had changed into some shorts and a T-shirt that is supposed to be big on her but is now clinging to every curve now that it’s wet. If he didn’t know better, he could’ve guessed that she had just gotten targeted by some rowdy teenagers on Spring Break whose high points in life consisted in getting wasted and constantly hitting on girls.

She turned back towards the sink, “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Seriously.” She shook the excess water from her hands before starting to unwrap the towels from the sink.

Jim barely heard her as he bent down, opening up his toolbox. He was determined not to stare. Gentlemen don’t stare. Best friends don’t stare. Singer sat beside him as he started to dig around and mumbled, “No problem.”

She started to wring out the rags one at a time, “I mean it. I hope I didn’t pull you away from something important.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She turns and looks at him, leaning back against the counter as she pulls her T-shirt away from her. “Are you okay?”

He kept his focus on finding the wrench he needed, not on how her shirt falls right back to how it was once she lets go. “I’m fine, why?”

“You just seem kind of upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You won’t even look at me.”

“I’m not staring.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He glances up at her, “Oh.”

“Jim?”

He stands up, “Here it is!” He holds out the basin wrench, as if having to prove that he did find the tool. Mostly, he was just grateful for the change in subject. “I was hoping I put it in there, I was starting to worry that I didn’t.”

Pam just looks at him, puzzled. She’s quiet for a moment before pushing off the counter, “I think I’m going to go change.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea,” Jim muttered once she was out of the room.

 

***

 

After changing into some leggings and a light sweatshirt, Pam made her way back to the kitchen. She sees that Jim must have went into her linen closet for some towels that are now spread across her kitchen floor. Despite them, his knees still have wet marks from where he had to kneel. She smiles when she sees Singer sticking his head under the sink to join Jim, whose torso and legs are the only readily visible to where she was standing.

“Would you stop panting?”

Singer ignored Jim’s complaint, his tail wagging.

“Seriously, dog, your breath stinks.” He sighed and then tried to scoot over but Singer was there. “And can you give me some room, please? You’re in my way.”

Pam watched as he tried to push Singer over, but to no avail. She chuckled, “How’s it going under there?”

She couldn’t help but laugh when he sits up too fast, hitting his head on the bottom of the sink. He pokes his head out from the cabinet, rubbing his forehead. “Good, I’m almost done.”

“Already?”

“It wasn’t too hard. Just gotta remove a couple nuts and it pops right off. Uh, I didn’t know what kind of faucet you would want, so I just got one that looked like your old one. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I can go back and get something new if you want, really, it’s no big deal.”

“Jim. Seriously, as long as it works, it’s perfect.”

He nods before sliding back under the sink. She hears a plink as something falls.

“Got it.”

He gets back out, standing up to take out the old faucet before handing it to her. She notices that he seems more relaxed now than he had been when he first saw her. He turns and put the new faucet into place before sliding back underneath.

“You really destroyed that thing, by the way. What did you use to turn it on? A hammer?”

“Dynamite.”

“That’ll do it. Maybe use a little less next time.”

She smiles and leans against the doorway. She watches him work for a moment, notices the veins in his arm popping out a bit as he cranks the wrench. She knew he was stronger than most people gave him credit for, his work coveralls not doing his lanky frame any favors, but she had never realized just how fit he truly was. She shakes her head, “So, do you know what happened?”

“Probably just old. I think that’s the only thing in this house that I haven’t fixed, though I should have looked at it the last time I came to fix your disposal.”

“So, you’re saying this is your fault?”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, then sure.”

She giggles and he comes back out, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Give me a sec to turn the water back on, and I’ll make sure everything is working.”

“You got it.”

She watches Singer follow Jim out the front door, only to reappear a minute later. They smile at each other as he walks past her to the sink. He turns on the faucet, double checking that there are no leaks before turning it back off and looking at her, “Looks like you’re good to go, Beesly.”

“I still think you made that look too easy. Before I called, I was wondering which plumber I was going to have to call if you couldn’t come over.”

He feigned shock, resting his hand over his heart, “After all this time, I’m offended that you would even think such a thing.”

Pam laughs as Jim squats down to start putting the things back in the cabinet that he had taken out earlier. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she walks over to him, kneeling down beside him. “I can do something.

She helps him put everything away, and she felt his arm brush against hers more than once. She wondered why she had noticed at all, it wasn’t like never touched each other. But she was suddenly hyperaware anytime their skin touched, so she turns to gather up the wet towels on the floor instead.

After putting them in the laundry room, she walks towards the fridge. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a beer now. You want one?”

“I’d love one.”

She hands him a bottle and gestures towards the door, “Come on, let’s go sit on the porch. It’s way too nice to sit inside.”

They make their way to the front door, her hand on the handle before she looks back at him, “Oh, did you say you already ate? When I called earlier, you said you had an accident with dinner?”

“Why?”

“With everything going on, I forgot to eat. You up for sharing a pizza?”

Jim smiles, “Definitely. That sounds great.”

She calls over her shoulder as she heads back for the phone, “Sausage and peppers okay?”

“Whatever you want is fine with me.”

 

***

 

A few minutes later, they sat on the front porch, Singer laying at Pam’s feet. Jim looks over Pam’s yard, looks at the trees that surround it, hiding most of the outside world from view. Her neighbors’ houses are just barely visible between the trees, Pam had told him more than once that she comes out here when she feels like she needs to get away. He agrees, the quiet porch being only visible to the cicadas in the branches above them and the mosquitos flying around makes it the perfect hideaway. He looks over at Pam and watches the moonlight cast a faint glow across her face and he wonders if tonight will somehow break his heart.

He finishes his beer before turning to her again, “You know, this reminds me of the night we met. Do you remember that? When Jo had us all over at her place so we could meet you?”

She laughs, “How could I forget? That was one of the most terrifying nights of my life.”

“Really? Even with Mark there?”

“Especially with Mark there. I didn’t stop shaking until I finally passed out in my room afterwards.”

“Why? We’re nice people.”

She points at him, “But I didn’t know that. I knew Mark liked you guys, obviously, and Jo had assured me that I would be fine, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t even speak to Mark that night.”

“You didn’t. He told me about it the next day.”

“He did?”

Jim shrugs, “He warned us, though. That you would be kind of quiet, I think he used the word timid.”

“He did not call me timid.”

He smiles, “That was after he called you mousy.”

“Okay,” she laughs, finishing off her beer as well, “I’ve been called a lot of things, but mousy was never one of them.”

Since she wasn’t looking at him, he took the opportunity to look her over for the second time that day. She had her legs pulled up under her, her leggings and sweatshirt hugging her in ways that he really shouldn’t notice but does anyway. He hadn’t agreed with Mark’s mousy comment after first meeting Pam, and he still doesn’t.

He looks back out at the yard, “Yeah, well, I think he was just trying to keep our expectations low. Wanted to make sure we all liked you, not that he needed any excuse. If Mark and Jo liked you, then we were all positive we would, too.”

She smiles over at him before looking down at Singer. He couldn’t quite read her expression, she looked almost forlorn, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. She’s quiet for a moment, petting singer’s back with her bare foot, then looks back up. “Sometimes it’s still hard for me to believe I’m here.”

“Why?”

She shrugs, “Just the way things worked out. I mean, I had never even heard of Scranton before I met Mark, and now almost eleven years later, I’m still here.”

His eyebrows furrow a little, “It sounds like you want to leave.”

“Oh, no, not at all, actually. I thought about it, after Mark died. Thought about starting over somewhere new, but I never got around to it. Besides,” she chuckles, “where would I even go? It’s not like I wanted to live near my mom again.”

“Have you talked to her recently?”

“Not for a few months. She called around Christmas, saying she wanted to come up and visit, but I’m pretty sure she was just hoping I’d send her some money. I didn’t, so she hasn’t called since.”

“That has to be hard.”

She nods, though he thinks she’s not entirely convinced. “It is. Sometimes. But I don’t really think about it much anymore. When Mark and I first started going out, I wanted to reach out to her. Wanted to tell her that I was okay, I made it through. As disappointing as she was as a mother, I still felt like I needed her approval. Now that I look back, it’s kind of strange how much I cared about that, but it was important to me.”

“But not anymore?”

“Not so much. She didn’t show up for the wedding, then she didn’t show up for the funeral. That kind of showed me that it wasn’t worth the effort. I’m still polite when she calls, but there’s no feeling there. I might as well be talking to a stranger.”

Jim considered his next words as he looked up at the sky, watching bats fly in and out of view. “Danny drives me nuts half the time, Karen only encourages him, and my parents are just as crazy. But… I don’t know what I’d do without them. I know I can go to them for support when I need to. I don’t think I’d be able to make it out on my own like you did.”

She smiles sympathetically at him, as if he’s the one that needs cheering up. “You’d make it. Besides, I’m not completely alone. I’ve got Singer here,” she nudges the dog with her foot as she says his name and he leans over to lick her leg once before going back to sleep, “And I’ve got my friends. Danny, Karen, Jo, you.” She smiles at him and for the first time since they stepped out onto the porch, he could tell it was truly genuine. “I don’t need anyone else.”

He wanted to ask if that included Roy, but he didn’t want to ruin the night. He was finally talking to Pam again, the same way he had before Roy came to town, and he wasn’t going to risk bringing down the mood.

He doesn’t get the chance to, anyway, when she asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Whatever happened to Katy? I thought you guys were getting kind of serious, but then she just… wasn’t around anymore.”

He shifts in his seat, “Oh, you know…”

“No, not really. You never told me why it ended.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s what you always say. But what’s the real story?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, trying to decide if he should tell her. He didn’t want the pitied looks or consoling comments, though. “You don’t want to know.”

“What’d she do? Cheat on you?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to pick off the label of his beer bottle instead. It takes a moment, but he hears her sigh and reach over to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. Well, I was, anyway.” He shrugs, trying to focus on their conversation and not the fact that she still had her hand on his arm. “It was some guy from work. I drove by one morning on the way to the shop, and his car was in her driveway.”

“What did you do?”

“You mean did I get angry? Of course. But to be honest, it didn’t last long. I wasn’t really the best boyfriend towards the end. I guess she felt neglected, and I don’t blame her. I think I knew it wouldn’t last, so I kind of stopped trying. I guess something was bound to happen.”

“Still sucks.”

He laughs a little, “Yeah. Still sucks.”

She moves her hand to point to his empty bottle, “You need another one?”

“Probably.”

“On it.”

He watched as she stood up, stepping over Singer before going into the house. He couldn’t help but notice how well her leggings fit her, how nice she looked tonight. He shakes his head, clearing those thoughts. He wasn’t going to ruin tonight. They were having pizza and beer, not lobster and wine. It was just a casual night, just like it used to be, before he made the mistake of falling in love with her.

He wasn’t sure exactly when it happened. He had liked her from the moment they met, but as nothing more than friends until long after Mark had passed. He wished he could pinpoint the exact moment, some time when he looked at her and just knew, but it wasn’t like that. It was gradual, like a sunrise, growing warmer and brighter as the minutes passed, and the next thing he knew it was morning and everything felt brand new.

He looks over when the door opens again and she hands him his bottle, opening hers as she sits down. She takes a small sip before saying, “Mark used to say that, too, you know.”

“What?”

“’Probably.’ Whenever I would ask if he wanted another beer, he would always say that. Did he get that from you?”

“Probably.”

She laughs and he grins, taking a swig of his beer.

“Do you still think about him?”

Jim nodded, “All the time.”

“I do, too.”

“I’m sure. He was a good guy – a great guy. You couldn’t have done better than Mark. He used to tell me that he couldn’t do any better than you, either.”

She leaned back in her seat, he noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “You’re a good guy, too.”

“Yeah, me and a million others. I’m not like Mark was.”

“Sure you are. You guys were so much alike. Both grew up in Scranton, had the same friends, liked to do the same things. Sometimes I forgot that you and Danny were the brothers and not you and Mark. Of course, Mark couldn’t have fixed the faucet; he couldn’t fix anything.”

“Danny couldn’t have fixed it either.”

“Really?”

“No, he probably could have. But he wouldn’t have wanted to. He hates getting his hands dirty.”

“That’s kind of ironic since you two own a garage.”

Jim laughs, “You’re telling me. But it’s okay, because I hate all the paperwork, so if he wants to spend his days filling out forms and printing out receipts, I’m fine with that. Plus, he’s the one that has to tell people ‘no’, I’m not very good at that.”

She giggles, and he knows he would do anything to keep her laughing, “Gee, really?”

 

***

 

The pizza arrives a few minutes later, a pimply teenager with thick glasses looks at the ticket for longer than he probably needed to before announcing their total. Jim reached for his wallet, but Pam nudged him out of the way, pocketbook in hand.

“Not a chance. This one’s on me.”

“But I’ll eat more.”

“You can eat the whole thing if you want, I’m still paying.”

He holds his hands up and takes a step back while she hands the pizza boy a couple bills and tells him to keep the change. She turns and walks past him towards the house, “Paper plates okay?”

“I only eat off of paper plates.”

She looks over her shoulder, “I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for you.”

 

After getting some plates and napkins, they go back out to the porch to enjoy their dinner. They talk about Mark a little more before switching topics to what’s been going on around town. How Dwight insisted that the batman logo was still off centered, but it would have to do. How Kelly called off, again, today, making both of them share their theories on why.

As the night went on, Pam found herself holding Jim’s gaze for just a little longer than usual. There was no reason, really, on why she was doing it. It wasn’t like he had said anything out of the ordinary since coming over. It wasn’t even that they were sitting alone on the porch, sharing pizza and stories as if this had been planned beforehand.

No, there was no reason on why she should feel differently tonight, and yet she did. But, as she watched Jim toss another crust to Singer without a break in conversation, she wasn’t sure she wanted the feeling to stop. His feet resting on the porch railing, his hair a little messed up, as always, and he just looked so comfortable here. Like he belonged. She realized how different spending time with Jim was compared to her dates with Roy. Spending weekends with Roy was fun, exciting, extravagant, but being with Jim was… normal, easy. They weren’t trying to impress each other or make sure they said the right things. It was just Jim and Pam, and she almost forgotten how much she enjoyed that.

It was what she liked most about being married to Mark. The whirl of emotions when they made love or when he would surprise her at work was always welcomed, but her favorite times were during the quiet moments. When he would bring her a cup of tea and they would read the newspaper together in bed on Sunday mornings, or when they debated on whether cherry or maple furniture would suit the house better, or when she would be inside dusting shelves and would hear Mark in the backyard, mowing the lawn. Those were the moments she felt safe, when she finally let herself believe in the impossible.

With those things in mind, Pam watched as Jim struggled with another piece of pizza. The long strands of cheese ran from his mouth to the slice and she couldn’t help her small smile. He would laugh at himself after most bites, making jokes at his own expense, not caring if he made a fool of himself or that she was there to witness it. The warm feeling she got as she watched him reminded her of the older couples her and Mark would pass by in the park, sitting on benches, some feeding birds, some just enjoying each other’s company. The warm feeling stayed with her as she followed him into the kitchen a few minutes later, watching as he grabs the plastic wrap from her drawer, not having to ask her where it is. And again when he took it upon himself to empty the garbage after noticing it was full. As he tied the bag closed, she imagined for a moment, just a moment, that this wasn’t happening right now. It was happening sometime in the future, just another ordinary evening in a long procession of evenings together.

“Well,” Jim’s voice brought her back and she looked up at him, “I think that’s about everything.”

She could feel her cheeks starting to burn a little and she was grateful that he wasn’t looking at her.

“Looks that way,” she agreed. “Thanks again for everything. The faucet, hanging out.”

“Thanks for calling me about it. Believe it or not, I’m glad you did. I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too.”

Neither spoke for a moment, and Pam could feel herself starting to retreat back into herself, suddenly very aware of all of her thoughts tonight. The mantra she has repeated for years started in her head, a relationship with Jim? No way. Not a chance.

Jim brought his hands together, interrupting her thoughts from going any further. “I should probably get going, I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah, me too. I didn’t get much sleep last night, either, Singer kept me up.”

“What was he doing?”

“Whining, growling, barking, doing whatever he could to make sure my headache stayed and I wouldn’t sleep.”

“That’s weird. He doesn’t normally do that, right? What’s going on?”

“Oh, it was nothing. Roy had just stopped by last night, you know how Singer is.”

It was the first time Roy had been mentioned all evening, and Pam noticed the discomfort on Jim’s face, even though he tried to mask it.

“Roy was here last night?”

“Oh, no, not like that. We didn’t go out or anything, he just dropped off a note to let me know something came up and he would be out of town for a few days.”

“Oh.”

“It was nothing, really.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the sudden need to clarify, but she did.

“So, what time was this at?”

She glances up at the clock above the stove, “Um… around two, I think. Well, that’s when Singer started anyway, But, like I said, it went on for a while. Why?”

He shrugs, “I guess I was just wondering why he didn’t wait to drop it off until the morning.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he left right away.”

Jim nodded, looking like he was debating on whether or not to say anything else. He seemed to decide to drop it, grabbing his toolbox and taking a small step towards the door. “Listen…”

“You’ve gotta go, I know.” She looks at him, “Thanks again.”

He smiles and neither can seem to look away from each other for a moment, until Jim finally nods towards the door. She follows him down the hall, her eyes trailing down his back as he walks in front of her. She was just thinking how well his jeans fit him when she hears the doorknob turn and her eyes jerk back up.

If it were any other person, any other situation, she would laugh at how absurd she is being tonight. But, strangely, she couldn’t find it in herself to do so.

She stands in the doorway after saying goodbye, watching as he heads to his car. He puts his toolbox into the back seat before sliding into the driver’s side, the light above him shining down like a halo. He grins at her and waves. She waves back, then he’s backing out, his taillights slowly fading into the distance.

She stands on the porch for another couple of minutes, trying to figure out what was going on with her tonight. It was just Jim, her best friend, her game partner, her shoulder to cry on. Just Jim. She wasn’t even sure why she was entertaining the thoughts. There was no way she could go out with him. Yes, he was nice, and funny, and cute. But Jim? She couldn’t.

The whole thing, she suddenly decided, was preposterous. A bunch of nonsense.

Wasn’t it?

Chapter End Notes:
Finally got to write some Jim and Pam, which I was super happy about. Thanks for reading and reviewing!!

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