When Cece walked in that morning the large bag swung over her arm encapsulated her entire frame. Jim looked surprised as she moved toward the bed, and sat it as his feet, unzipping the zipper and revealing the beat up acoustic that hadn’t been touched in some years. He smiled, running a finger over the cords, cringing at the out of tune beauty in front of him. He hadn’t touched it since she’d been in his room, ran her fingers over the strings, and even though he didn’t really know how to play at the time, he vowed to learn so that one day he could place it in her lap, and move her fingers across the fret. He shook his head back to where he was now, and briefly forgot about that apartment back in Scranton. The one he’d first called his own, and even though he shared it with Mark, it was his.
“What are you doing with this?” he raised an eyebrow, his signing slightly improving as he spoke, grinning in her direction.
“Mom said you, can play, and that you can teach me,” she stated, matter of factly, “But first,” she moved to the left of his bed, pushing the bar down with a loud metal clunk, “we’re going to walk to the nurse’s station.” Jim stared at Cece, trying to muster up energy at nine in the morning, and wondered how she ever was able to sit in school for six hours a day and be focused and energetic this early. At 9am, he was able to sip his morning coffee, browse through his emails, and not make any appointments with clients until after ten thirty. Jim Halpert was not a morning person. He let out a yawn and brought his large hands under his gym shorts, moving his legs to the side of his bed, and sat for a moment.
“Remember last time?” she asked him, moving his wheelchair out of the way of the door to his room. A few of his nurses were watching on with knowing smiles. They’d become so comfortable with Cecelia in the last few weeks. They’d all known her by name, and she, the same. She knew how to check herself into the hospital and how to make her way to his room each time without assistance now, she was growing up before his eyes, and he was thanking whomever was looking out for him that day, that he was there to see it.
Before he stood up though, he eyed Cece with suspicion, “What made you bring that guitar today?” Jim gave her the all knowing look, his eyes widening and brows raised, a smile perched on the ends of his lips.
Cece was quiet for a moment, tilting her head to the side, “I found the DVD’s,” it was barely a whisper as she ducked her head.
“You what?” he raised his voice. One of the nurses looked in, concerned. Maybe it was a bit of an overreaction, but he had no desire for his children, especially Cee to know anything about his life before Pam.
She immediately stepped back, biting her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, I was…I was looking in your closet for some photos for a school project and I found the box, and I just…” she stammered, “I was curious, and I wanted to know why you were on TV,” she was tripping over her words, and he wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or agitated or both.
“How much did you watch?”
“I saw Mom in your house, at your barbeque. And, I saw the guitar, and you never touch it, and so I asked Mom about it. I’m sorry Dad, I was just curious,” she was pouting, her eyes glossing over.
He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair.
“It’s because of Roy, isn’t it Dad?”
And Karen
There was a heavy silence between them.
“You didn’t want me to find out about him, right?”
Why was she so smart?
“Come here,” he motioned, and patted the bed next to him.
“Um,” he felt twenty-four all over again. He looked at Cecelia and Pam was immediately with him. He felt redness in his ears, years of telling himself that he’d have to learn to live without the receptionist in his life. Years of regret, until finally she was his. Keeping those reels was a beautiful depiction of their love story, and once in a while they’d pull one out, and remind each other of their time before Austin. “Roy was,” he paused, “he wasn’t great for your Mom. They just didn’t work. You know umm,” he scratched his head, closing an eye, “you know when we’re doing a puzzle, and sometimes Philip will put two pieces together and they don’t fit, but he can make them fit together for a little while. But when the puzzle is almost done, and we see the bigger picture, they don’t fit and we have to fix the pieces?” She nodded furiously at him, “that was your mom and Roy. They made it work for a little while, but it wasn’t great for either of us. I guess we are just aren’t ready to talk about that with you and your brother yet. I think I thought you weren’t old enough. But, I think I was wrong,” he gave her a lopsided smile.
“I want to watch more, Dad,”
“No way, not yet. And definitely not without me and Mom. There are certain things, certain people I’d rather you didn’t see just yet,”
“You mean Todd Packer?” she grinned, her tongue between her teeth. Jim let out a snort,
“I guess I’m too late,” he grabbed the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling the weight in his legs immediately hit his feet, and pain shooting up. He inhaled through his teeth.
He balanced himself for a moment, gripping into the bed. The past three weeks he’d been able to make it around his room a few laps before needing to sit back down. The rehabilitation specialist had been so impressed with his progress, and the assistance of his daughter, they’d told him he could probably go home within the next couple of weeks.
The pain wasn’t the only thing laboring Jim, though. It was what he held behind his eyes, especially in the quiet moments. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, they’d called it. Common with accidents. Common with traumatic brain injury patients. But for Jim Halpert, someone who’s greatest fear in life had been losing his wife and children, he was reliving that fear day and night. In the middle of the night, when everyone had gone home, when the FaceTime calls had finished, his evening medication had been delivered and his head hit the pillow, that’s usually when the torment started.
Sometimes, he’d imagine the impact of the front of a bus hitting the car, and pictured himself crushed underneath it. Occasionally, he’d be driving, and he’d see his wife get hit before his eyes. Sometimes it was the kids. On one particular evening, he’d awoken in a cold sweat, screaming from his room, nurses at his side, assuring him he was fine. Philip and Cece had been in front of their car and he’d hit them both straight on. He didn’t know why he was saved that day, and he had no recollection of the months following. To be frank, he had no memory of that day, only the stories (which had been limited) that he’d been told. Regardless of the reasons which had let him up to this Mid-April morning, he was struggling to think about what life would be like again at home. There were so many stairs and so much noise there. His head pounded at the least bit of sound from a baseball game these days. Never mind the children fighting, Pam yelling for them to get dressed from downstairs, and the usual routine of their lives. He was ready to be home, but if he was being honest, the hospital was easier. At 4pm he said goodbye to Cece. Philip joined him until dinner time and he helped with homework and discussed his upcoming ball games, and had even had the energy to give him a haircut. Pam had no idea how to use the clippers. At 5pm, his wife would join them, and they’d have some precious alone time while the babysitter brought Philip home to join Cece and start to make dinner. He’d hold Pam in his arms, as tight as he could, to make sure she was still real, still there, and he’d feel the baby move, fluttering under his fingers. She was getting bigger by the minute. That afternoon after his usual routine with Cece, followed by a quick guitar lesson (she could now successfully play Smoke On The Water), they were laying together, discussing names.
“Charlotte?”
“Too royal,” Pam laughed, moving her head to Jim’s chest, attempting to get comfortable in the bed that paled in comparison to their king.
“Hazel?”
“Too old!” he shook his head at her,
“Astrid,” she barely could get the name out without snorting into a fit of giggles. He laughed, doubling over, bouncing her against his chest. He missed these moments. The ones in the privacy of their room, holding each other in bed, their legs intertwined with each other.
He kissed the top of her head with a smile,
“I think we’ll know when we see her,” she looked up at him with a smile before moving a hand to her stomach,
“Jim,” she glanced cautiously at him, her eyes widening, “I think…”
“Your water broke,” he looked down at his shorts and the bedding around him soaked.
“Shit,” she mumbled.
Jim grabbed the remote, hitting the call button, and immediately finding his cellphone to call the sitter, instructing her to take the kids home. This was all too early, her c-section wasn’t scheduled for another month, this little girl, however, was coming whether they were ready or not. And ready, they were not.
Pam hadn’t had time to pull all of Cece’s old baby clothes, and Philips’ crib out of the attic. The guest bedroom would become a nursery, but in the time her husband hadn’t been present, she hadn’t spent it decorating the nursery. Nesting was not her priority. In fact, she had only recently been showing Jim paint samples for the room; they were not prepared.
“Jim, she’s not ready,” her eyes widened in fear as he moved to the edge of the bed, carefully sliding himself off, and putting his flip flops on.
“She’s ready, Pam,” he moved to cup her hands on her face, “We need to be too,”
She nodded, pursing her lips, her hands hovering over her belly, rubbing small circles.
When the nurse rolled a wheelchair in, Pam looked to Jim. He laughed through a smile,
“I’m terrified,”
“Me too,”
“Let’s do this,”
