Picture perfect memories

Scattered all around the floor

She thought she would never look at it again. She couldn’t, really. The moment she walked into Dunder Mifflin that Friday and saw his desk was completely cleaned off, she stuffed the stupid teapot into her purse and then into the back of her closet once she got home. She couldn’t see it every day and be reminded of him. She almost forgot about it. Almost forgot that she gave up a four-hundred dollar ipod for a teal teapot because it was from Jim and he looked so disappointed that she didn’t steal it back, even though he tried to play it off as no big deal. But then Ed Truck died this morning and a bird crashed into the window and Michael insisted on throwing a funeral.

And she had fun. For the first time since May, she had fun while she was at work. She made a little casket and sang along to Dwight’s recorder, and she had fun.

Or at least she thought she did, until she was driving home and Somewhere Only We Know came on the radio and she was instantly brought back to Christmas parties and Yankee Swaps and knitted oven mitts. Which would have been fine, if oven mitts didn’t lead to hot sauce packets, yearbook pictures, and mix tapes that had so many of his favorite songs that he picked out just for her, including this one. Then she was suddenly reminded that Jim wasn’t here anymore. He didn’t help her make a tiny bird casket out of a tissue box and pencils. He wasn’t there to help console Michael. He wasn’t there to tease Dwight about his recorder or jokingly make fun of her singing voice.

She pulled into her parking spot, parked her car, and stared at her front door until the song ended.

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go

Somewhere only we know?

The last few lyrics resonate with her as she turns off the ignition and steps out of the car. By the time she’s walking inside, she’s already made a decision that she knows she will regret later. She kicks off her shoes and drops her bag on the floor before heading straight for the kitchen. If she’s going to do this, she needs alcohol. She pours a full glass of rosé. It’s Friday; she doesn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. She makes her way back to her bedroom closet and looks up towards the shelf. She can see it: the box that holds everything she never wanted to remember but couldn’t find it in herself to forget. She takes a long sip of her wine before setting it down on her nightstand and reaching up for the box.

She places it on the bed and takes a moment to have another sip of wine before slowly diving in. Her periwinkle dress is crumpled on top, underneath is a couple of yogurt lid medals and paper doves, some old Valentine’s Day cards, three pictures of them together, her whitest sneakers dundie, the pamphlet Jan gave her about that art internship, and the teapot. All thrown together with random doodles and post-it notes he had given her, stashed away, never planning to see the light of day again.

But now she lifts each item carefully out of the box and places it on her bed after allowing herself to reminisce over the memories each object holds. Once she gets to the teapot, she takes off the lid and starts taking those memories out too, each one digging a deeper hole into her heart. She remembers throwing the pencil at him after he beat her by one point in mini golf. Remembers how she put the cassette he made into Roy’s truck as soon as they left, so curious on what songs he chose for her. His face when she took a bite of her hot dog and quickly realized that those weren’t ketchup packets. How he spent a whole round of Boggle trying to convince her that wapiti is a word.

“It is not a word, Jim.”

“It is!”

“We’re not pulling a prank. You don’t have to make up any words in order to win. In fact, that’s cheating.”

“I’m serious, Pam! It’s a type of deer. No, wait, it’s a type of elk.”

“How would you even know that?”

He gives her a pointed look, “Do you know who I sit next to every day?”

She laughs, “You’re ridiculous.” She turns the Boggle timer over, “My turn.”

She takes another long sip of her wine as tears start to sting her eyes. She blinks them back, not wanting to cry tonight. She will have her little pity party, and then drink until she can’t feel the burning ache in her chest anymore.

Reaching for the phone 'cause, I can't fight it anymore

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me, it happens all the time

She just finished her second glass of wine and is now drinking straight from the bottle as she sits on her bed, teapot on her lap and surrounded by nothing but memories of Jim and what they used to be. She’s considered calling him. Almost did it the night she broke up with Roy, and again after she heard his voice through Michael’s phone at the convention. There have also been a few random days where she would be driving home from work and an overwhelming urge to hear his voice would rush over her. But she never dialed, never even brought up his contact on her phone. She knew one of three things would happen if she called. He either blocked her number, would ignore her calls, or tell her it’s too late. So, she didn’t bother.

But now she’s looking at everything around her, everything he’s given her or reminded her of him, and she wants, no needs, to hear him. Needs to know if he really does hate her, if it really is too late. But it’s almost one a.m. now and she thinks he’s probably sleeping, as she should be as well. But the wine is coursing through her veins and the periwinkle dress is staring daggers at her, as if taunting her with every mistake she’s ever made when it comes to Jim.

But maybe calling in the middle of the night and leaving a voicemail would be better. If he never calls her back, she knows it’s over. He’s moved on, found a better life that doesn’t include the mousy receptionist. And, at least, this way she won’t have to hear him reject her. She can pretend that the last time she heard his voice was a muffled “Hi, Pam” through Michael’s phone. She can hold onto that.

So, she reaches for her phone and pulls up his contact. She looks at the picture she saved for him, one of the same ones that’s laying by her knee at the moment. It’s a picture of the two of them that Michael candidly took at Jim’s barbeque party a few years ago. She’s laughing at something Meredith had said and Jim is looking at her with this look that she teased him mercilessly about once she saw the picture and he would just roll his eyes.

“Look at you, Jim! Your eyes look huge.”

He just smiled and popped a jellybean in his mouth while she stared at the picture and giggled.

“Seriously, I know Meredith was telling some pretty good jokes, but they don’t compare to this.”

“I’m gonna burn that picture if you keep making fun of me.”

She turns her body away from him, keeping the photo out of reach. “No way. I’m saving this forever.”

She saved it as his contact picture immediately and would always giggle when he called or texted and she saw that look on his face.

It wasn’t until she was stuffing this box full of everything that was Jim Halpert that she saw the picture again. It had been a couple weeks since he had last texted or called, and then she never pulled up his name after he left. It wasn’t until she studied it that day that she realized he wasn’t pulling a funny face, at least not on purpose. She’s positive now that he didn’t know Michael was there. Thought he was safe to express how he felt for her for just a moment while Meredith cracked a couple jokes and Pam would laugh. She can see it in his eyes, even if he’s not looking at the camera. It’s the same look he gave her on the booze cruise, in the breakroom while he was jinxed, and then in the parking lot. The one that says I love you and I hope you love me too but, really, I know how this is going to end. Please prove me wrong. It held so much fear and hope and love and it scared her to her core but made her feel so protected at the same time.

She wanted to prove him wrong, she knew that now. She might be too late, he may never hear her out or even believe her, but she wants to try. It takes her another ten minutes, but she finally presses the call button and holds the phone up to her ear. She both really hopes he picks up and really hopes he doesn’t.

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now

She’s pretty sure her brain short circuits when a mumbled “Hello?” comes through on the second ring. He sounds tired, like he just woke up; but he answered. She takes that as a good sign. It’s not until she hears shuffling and then, “Pam?” that she realizes she hasn’t answered him.

“Hi.”

A pause, then, “Hi.”

She rubs her forehead with her fingertips, the bottle of wine she consumed within the past few hours finally hitting her now that she actually has to think. She thinks she shouldn’t have called, but she also honestly didn’t think he would pick up the phone this late. It’s silent for another moment, she wonders if she should just hang up. Pretend this never happened and hope he never brought it up if they ever saw each other again.

“Are you there?”

She leans back against her headboard, keeping her eyes shut while she tries to keep her headache at bay. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Why did you call?”

She almost laughs. I called because I miss you and I can’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard I try. I called because it sucks that you’re not here anymore. I called because we had a funeral for a bird today and I sang with Dwight and you weren’t there to witness it. Instead she takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly. “I called because I had a long day.”

“Oh.”

She winces a little at the disappointment in his voice. That’s not what she wanted to hear when she called.

When she speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “We had a funeral for a bird today.”

It’s quiet for a second and then she can hear him softly chuckle, “You had a what?”

She smiles, she can imagine his face right now. Eyebrows furrowed, small smile on his lips, running a hand through his hair. She wishes she could see it in person. “Yeah. A funeral for a bird.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. Dwight played On Wings of Love by Jeffery Osbourne on his recorder and I sang along.”

His laugh is louder this time, “Please tell me the camera crew got that on tape.”

“They sure did. Now the whole world can hear my amazing voice.”

“I wish I would have been there to hear it.”

The tears that have been stinging her eyes for the past hour finally start their slow escape down her cheeks. She wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan before choking out, “Me too.”

“Are you okay?”

The genuine concern in his voice makes the tears fall faster. She’s sure the alcohol in her system isn’t helping her case at all, either. She nods before remembering that he can’t see her, so she clears her throat and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just weird, you know?”

He sighs, “Yeah, I know.”

“Why did you leave?” She didn’t really mean to ask it out loud. She didn’t want their first conversation in five months to be an argument. But it was out there now. No turning back.

“Are you serious?”

“I mean… I know you left because of me. Because of what I said. But why did you leave so fast?”

“The position was open and I couldn’t take it anymore. You said you were still going to marry him, so I had nothing keeping me there. I have no future in Scranton if you’re not in it.”

“But I didn’t marry him.”

“Yeah, well, I was already three states away when you made that decision.”

She could hear the frustration in his voice, but she couldn’t figure out why he was the one that was getting angry. He left her. Sure, she turned him down, but he didn’t have to move across the country or wherever it is he went to just to get away from her. Maybe if he had given her more than a second to think she could have explained herself better. Instead of turning her world upside down, kissing her, and then leaving her in the dust. Maybe if he waited, she wouldn’t be talking to him on the phone right now. Maybe he would be here in Scranton. Maybe in her bedroom, if he had just waited.

She takes another deep breath, though instead of fighting off a headache, she’s trying to stay calm. She can feel the anger rising within her because he just doesn’t seem to get it, but she still doesn’t want to fight.

“You could have waited.”

“Until when, Pam? If I had stayed, would you have called off your wedding? Or would you just hope we could fall back into what we were? Because I couldn’t do that. You were literally killing me. You saying you were still going to marry Roy was the last straw.”

She sits up, knocking the teapot off of her lap and into the pile of everything else that was strewn all over her bed. “I broke up with him that night, Jim. I called it all off, told him it was over. Because you told me you loved me and then you kissed me. And then you were the one who left by morning.”

“I left because you said you didn’t love me, Pam.”

“No. I said I can’t love you. And if you had waited just one day, you could have figured out that that was a lie.”

“So, why didn’t you call before? Why didn’t you call that night?”

She scoffs, “Because I didn’t expect you to throw a tantrum and leave the state! I didn’t even know you were looking for another job!”

“So why tonight? Because I’m starting to think you didn’t call just because Michael held a funeral for a bird. Did that even happen?”

“What the hell, Jim? You really think I’m that desperate that I would make up a damn bird funeral in order to get you to talk to me?”

“So, why did you call? There had to be another reason to call me at,” he pauses and she assumes he’s checking the time, which proves to be correct when he comes back a second later, “one-fifteen in the morning other than to tell me about Michael and complain about your day. I’m sorry, Pam, but that’s not my job anymore.”

She looks at everything on her bed. All the mementos and cards and memories from the past eight years years spread across her comforter. She reaches for the internship pamphlet, looking it over as she tries to form the words she wants to say.

He walks into the breakroom and sees her picking at her nails. “So, you’re not doing it.”

She looks up at him, “How did you know?”

He sighs, “Why not?”

“Just like no big reason. Just a bunch of little reasons.”

She can’t fully see his face, but she’s pretty sure he rolls his eyes while he pours his coffee. “Come on.”

“Roy’s right. There’s no guarantee it’s going to lead to anything anyway.”

“Roy said that.”

The disappointment in his voice kills her, but she pushes those feelings aside because why wouldn’t she listen to her fiancé? “What? You have something you want to say?”

“You got to take a chance on something sometime, Pam. I mean, do you want to be a receptionist here, always?”

“Oh, excuse me! I’m fine with my choices!”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

But she’s not happy with her choices. Not anymore. Her choices took her away from her art, away from her dreams, and most importantly, away from Jim.

“I really did call because of that stupid bird funeral. But it was more than that. It was the fact that you weren’t there to attend it. It was you not helping me make the stupid bird a mini casket. It was you who wasn’t there to cheer up Michael or tease Dwight. And then it was your stupid song that came on the radio and it just brought everything back.” She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I packed the teapot away the day you left. The teapot, my dundie, some stuff from that office Olympics, anything that reminded me of you. But after I heard that song that was on that mixtape you made for me; I took everything out. Well, I drank a glass of wine, then took everything out. Then I drank some more wine while I looked through everything, remembering every story that was behind it. And then I drank the rest of the bottle while I pouted and that’s when I called you.”

“You drank a whole bottle of wine? Pam, are you drunk?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too.” She freezes, unable to understand her thought process at the moment. Has she really always wanted to do that? She thinks so. But she’s engaged, she shouldn’t have said that. She says the first excuse she can think of, “…I think we’re just drunk.”

He looks genuinely concerned, which breaks her even more. She can’t do this. He shakes his head just the tiniest bit. “No, I’m not drunk. Are you drunk?”

She sighs, caught in her lie but still not able to think straight, the feeling of his lips on hers is still lingering, causing her brain to short circuit. “No…” He smiles and leans down to kiss her again and she wants him to so bad, but she can’t. That seems to be her motto tonight. “Jim—”

“Are you really gonna marry him?” He looks devastated. She wants to change her mind. Wants to say no, she’s not going to. She loves him, too. He can kiss her again. But her body betrays her thoughts and she nods, unknowingly throwing him further out of her life with every shake of her head. “…Ok.”

“No. I’m not drunk. Not really, anyway.”

He sighs and she just knows that he’s running his hand through his hair again. She wonders if he looks the same, if he still has his shaggy hair that sometimes gets too long and she threatens to braid it if he doesn’t get it trimmed soon. He would always tell her to go ahead and would lean his head towards her, but then she would laugh and push him away and he would come in the next day with a fresh haircut. “Lost your chance yesterday, Beesly.”

His voice pulls her out of her thoughts, “I guess I just don’t understand.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Don’t understand what?”

“Tonight. I don’t understand tonight. What was your plan when you called?”

She chuckles, though it lacks humor. “I didn’t have one. I didn’t even really expect you to pick up. I was hoping to leave a voicemail.”

“And then what?”

She shrugs, though she knows he can’t see it. “I don’t know, Jim. I haven’t been able to think straight since you told me you love, sorry, loved me and then kissed me and then left me behind. I’ve been drowning in my thoughts for the past five months and I just thought maybe if I heard your voice, even if it was your generic, boring voicemail message, I’d finally be able to get some air. I just needed to know that you didn’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t always feel like that when your supposed best friend drops off the face of the Earth. You never called, never texted, you couldn’t even send an email just to let me know you were safe. I had to find out from Michael that you transferred three states away. Do you know how much that hurt?”

“I already told you that I couldn’t—”

“Yeah. I know. You couldn’t spare another second of your life with me to just tell me that you’re okay.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m still not okay?”

She stops, the anger that was quickly rising back up dissipates just as fast. “What?”

“I had to cut you out completely, Pam. I was never going to get over you if I kept in contact. I didn’t have any other choice.”

“So why did you answer?”

He was silent for a moment. All she could hear were his shallow breaths and what she guessed was his heater humming in the background. She fidgets with the Boggle timer as she waits for his answer, watching the sand slowly fall from the top to the bottom, then again when she turns it around. She had just flipped it for the third time when he finally says, “I don’t know. I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

“There had to be a reason. If you were trying to keep me out of your life, why did you answer? Why didn’t you block me?”

Her eyes stay fixated on the sand as she listens to him adjust his position. She assumes he’s sitting up straighter, or maybe leaning forward with the phone to his ear and his face in his hand. The sand is halfway gone when he says, “I don’t know. I knew I couldn’t reach out to you, I just couldn’t. But… I guess there was always that little part of me that hoped you would one day change your mind. I didn’t want to risk losing the chance that you would reach out to me.”

“Well, I did.”

He chuckles softly, “You did.”

“And I’m changing my mind.”

“You are?”

“Oh, excuse me! I’m fine with my choices!”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I am.”

This time she means it.

It’s quiet again, but it’s an almost comfortable silence. Like rain pattering on your window, thunder and lightning looming in the distance. It’s not close enough to be a threat, to cause any real damage, but you keep an eye on it. Appreciate the rain, watch out for the storms.

“Can I come over?”

He laughs, “You know I’m in Connecticut, right?”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I want to come over.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Beesly.”

“Why not?”

“You just told me you drank a whole bottle of wine tonight. You are not getting behind the wheel of a car. Besides, it’s after two a.m., you should get some sleep.”

“But I want to see you. I can drive.”

“Pam. Do not drive here. Please. I promise that we will meet up soon, okay? You can text me in the morning, as soon as you wake up. We’ll set something up. Just do not drive, okay?”

She rolls her eyes and leans back against her headboard, “Okay, mom.”

He laughs and she grins, she missed his laugh even more than she had realized. “Go to sleep. Text me in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Jim.”

“Goodnight.”

She cleans up her bed, packing everything away back into the box. She’s hopeful they won’t stay in there for long, but right now her head is killing her, she’s exhausted, and the only thing on her mind is sleep. So, she shoves the box off to the side of her room before changing into pajamas and crashing as soon as her head meets the pillow.

Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door

Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before

He tried to go back to sleep. But after almost an hour of tossing and turning with his mind racing, he finally got up and out of bed. He paces in his living room, gaining no clarity of the situation with every step he takes.

She called me.

She said she’s changing her mind.

Changing her mind about what, exactly?

She wanted to see me.

She was drunk.

Would she remember any of this tomorrow?

The questions and their conversation ran through his head at a hundred miles an hour.

“We held a funeral for a bird. But it was more than that.”

“I wish I would have been there.”

“Me too.”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair for what feels like the millionth time since he picked up Pam’s call. He didn’t know what to do.

But that’s nothing new. He hasn’t known what to do since he first walked into the Dunder Mifflin doors almost eight years ago and saw her sitting behind the desk. He didn’t know what to do when he took her out for lunch and she casually informed him that she’s engaged, because of course she is. He didn’t know what to do when she would smile at him. He didn’t know what to do when they stared at each other on that stupid boat and he thought he might kiss her, but she walked away before he built up the courage. He didn’t know what to do when they sat on the roof together, eating cold grilled cheese and watching Dwight and Kevin shoot off fireworks. He really didn’t know what to do when the words “I’m in love with you” came out of his mouth before he even realized he was talking.

“You could have waited.”

“I broke up with him that night.”

“You were gone by morning.”

“Can I come over?”

“I want to see you.”

She’s drunk.

He drops down onto the couch, hearing the cheap springs squeak beneath him. He leans back and rubs a hand over his face before staring at his front door. He wishes she hadn’t had anything to drink. He gets it, he’s gotten drunk more times than he could count ever since he moved to Stamford. But if she was sober, he would have told her to come over in a heartbeat. Even if she felt okay, he wasn’t risking that. And he’s not even sure if she meant everything. He’s sure she was sorry, that she missed him, but was everything true? Does she really want to see him? Did she really change her mind?

“Oh, hey, Jim. Wait, stop.” He almost doesn’t. Considers pretending he didn’t hear her and walk right out the door. That’s what she wanted, right? But he stops, because of course he does. He can’t say no to her. “Um, I’m sorry… for pushing you towards Cumberland.” He gives her a small smile and a shrug, trying to brush it off. “Seriously, if you left here, I would blow my brains out.”

His smile is genuine now, his heart beating a little faster. He knows she just means it because they’re friends. He knows that. But he can’t help but think that the look in her eyes is telling him that maybe she’s telling the truth. He nods towards the door, “Come on.”

Her smile makes any lingering frustration disappear instantly.

He stands up and heads towards the kitchen. He has been slowly buying less alcohol every time he goes grocery shopping, the need to drown his sorrows lessens just a tiny bit with every week he’s gone, but he still has a few beers in the fridge and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the pantry. He reaches for the fridge first before deciding he wants something a little stronger. He takes out a shot glass and the bottle of Jack and downs a shot before he can second guess it. Just enough to take off the edge, but he won’t get drunk. Not tonight.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me, it happens all the time

He’s not exactly sure when he got in the car. He stood in the kitchen for a long while, the whiskey settling his nerves just enough to think a little straighter.

Pam called him. She called him in the middle of the night. She called him because it’s been weird without him and she missed him. She called because a song he picked out for her played on the radio and it reminded her of him. She kept everything that he had given her. She had to pack it away when he left because it hurt too much. She called after bringing all those things back out and she needed to hear him. She said she wanted to see him. She said she was changing her mind.

Those were all good things, right?

But there was just this tiny part of him that stayed pessimistic. The small part of his brain that is trying to hold him back from another heartbreak. From diving right back into everything that is Pam Beesly. It reminds him that she drank a whole bottle of wine within a few hours. It reminds him that even though she sounded okay, she was more emotional than normal. That maybe she didn’t mean it the way that he wants her to. That she misses him, but only his pranks and jokes and friendship.  That it’s weird without him, but that’s because she now has to deal with Michael and Dwight on her own. That, come morning, she may wake up and regret everything she had said, if she remembered it at all.

That was the part of him that kept him home, feet planted on the kitchen floor, for another twenty minutes.

“Why did you leave?”

He looks at his front door. Imagines her walking in, tears running down her cheeks and apologies that try to come out of her lips, but he won’t let them because he’s too busy kissing her.

He imagines her walking in, paint staining her clothes and takeout in her hand. He doesn’t think twice about it, helping her get the food set up while she tells him about her day. This is what he always wanted.

He imagines her walking in, a toddler on her hip and groceries on her arm. “Jim, you’ll never believe what they had at the store. Dunkaroos! And then when I was checking out? Razzles! Do you remember those?”

He blinks and it’s quiet, the door remains shut. He makes his decision.

“I didn’t marry him.”

He starts walking back to his bedroom. His feet feel like concrete, his mind is back to running wild. His eyes catch the painting on the hallway wall. To anyone else, it’s just a sunset on a lake. Something a hundred others probably have hanging in their homes as well. On the rare occasion he has someone over, they never ask about it, just as he had hoped.

He packed away most of her stuff. Was even able to get rid of a couple of things. Almost everything made its way into a box labeled “Do Not Open” and was then stored away in his parents’ basement.

But he kept a few things. He kept the four-leaf clover keychain he got at the Christmas party on his keys. She didn’t give that to him, but that day was one of the best days of his life when he walked up to her desk and saw that she traded her iPod for the teapot. He kept the oven mitt she got him for his birthday that looks like a lobster claw. “You said soft-shell crab was your favorite food, but they don’t sell crab claw oven mitts, so this was the closest thing I could find.” He needed an oven mitt when he moved and figured he would just keep this one out instead of spending the extra money on a new one.

And then he kept this painting. It was generic enough that no one ever thought twice about it, but he could see all the little details she threw into it. The flowers on the hillside are blue, his favorite color. There is a letter ‘H’ on the door of the cabin. He had mentioned once that German Shepherds were his favorite type of dog, and he could see one sitting down by the water.

He walked in on Monday, exhausted. He cherished his weekends. Forty-eight hours free from Dwight, Michael, and all the chaos they created. Except this time, he only got a little over twenty-four hours of freedom, since Michael had lost them the basketball game and made everyone work on Saturday. Everyone except Pam, that is. “No one is going to be calling on a Saturday,” Michael had explained, “And besides, she needs to let Roy get some every now and then.”

Sometimes he really wanted to quit.

But he saw her sitting behind her desk, looking at him with such excitement in her eyes, and his mood was automatically lifted. He hangs up his coat before leaning over her desk, “What’s up, Beesly?”

“Okay, well…” she reaches down and grabs a paper from her bag. She hides the front of it from view and looks up at him, her grin growing to match his. “So, I felt really bad that you all had to work on Saturday, and I got to go to the lake. I also felt bad that Roy elbowed you, even if he didn’t mean to. I had some free time while Roy and Kenny rode on the WaveRunners, so I made you a little something to make up for it.”

She holds up the painting and he falls a little further in love with her.

It adds color to his otherwise bland apartment. That’s what he told himself, anyway, when he decided to hold onto it while packing. He didn’t want any guests to think he was some sort of serial killer with no art on his walls. He studies the painting for a few seconds longer, admiring the individual brush strokes and the vibrant hues that make up the sun setting on the lake, before making his way to the bedroom.

“I called it all off.”

He undresses before throwing on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater. He does a double take in the mirror, trying to figure out why this outfit seemed so familiar to him. It took him a minute, but the memory of him and Pam sitting in his old bedroom during his barbeque eventually solves the puzzle.

“Ok, wait, so that would make me,” she walks over to his end table, perching on the end of it and holding her hands up as if at her computer, “like right here.”

He pretends to imagine their locations in the office, as if he has no idea that she really should be about six inches further back and three to the left. “Yeah, that… Yep, that feels about right.”

“And Dwight would be like-“

“You know what? Let’s just leave that image out of it, because this is a happy place. Happy thoughts, Pam. Happy thoughts.”

She giggles and he thinks he will never get over that sound. “Umm,” she glances around the room before spotting something on his shelf and gasping, “yearbook!”

“Yeah, you don’t have to, ummm.” It was too late, though, as she grabbed the book and sat down on his bed with a bounce. “Alright, yes, that’s not gonna be awkward at all.”

She flips through the pages before landing on his class and spotting his picture. “Ooooohhh no!”

He laughs, “Oh yeah.”

She can’t keep her giggles in now. She could tease him for the rest of her life if it made her laugh this much. “You were so dorky!”

“Thank you.” He smiles, matching hers before she looks back down and flips through the pages again, probably trying to find him in some of the candid photos they always have in the back of the book. He watches her for a moment before having to turn away, the sight of her on his bed beginning to be too much for him to handle. But he commits the image to memory, the part of his brain that memorizes every time she looks so beautiful without even trying.

He considers changing but walks out of his bedroom instead. Maybe she’ll remember, too.

“I said I can’t love you. If you had waited, you would have seen that was a lie.”

He slips on his sneakers before grabbing his keys. It’s not until he’s undoing the deadbolt that he realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. She moved out of the house the weekend after she broke up with Roy, Phyllis had updated him on that whenever she called to say that the wedding was off. He almost looked up her new address right then, knowing Dwight would be on top of Toby to update the employee files immediately in case of an emergency. He was a manager now, he could easily log in and see everyone’s files, Pam’s files. But Josh had called him into his office just as his mouse was hovering over the link that leads to all of the Scranton branch’s employees. When he got back, he saw his screen was still lit up with the company homepage, the Scranton link seemingly glowing brighter than all the others, even though he knew that wasn’t true. But he exits out of the page instead, deciding that he doesn’t want to take two steps backwards when he was finally about to take one step forward.

But he was too far gone now. This decision might take him right back to square one, undo all of his progress that he has worked so hard on for the past five months. But he needs answers. So, he quickly opens his laptop and pulls up the Dunder Mifflin website. He finds her file quickly, jotting her address down on a piece of scrap paper before shutting it down and walking out the door.

He’s not sure if this step will be backwards or forwards. All he knows is that he needs to get to Scranton.

“You weren’t there.”

He backs out of his driveway and then turns onto the main road. He rides in silence for the first fifteen minutes, only turning on the radio after he merges onto the highway. He can’t help but laugh when his Travis CD started playing, Sing coming through the car speakers. He never played this song anymore, always skipping to the next track, but he had just pulled into his parking spot when the songs switched. So, he turned off the engine instead, figuring he would hit the skip button Monday on his way to work. He never expected to have this song play while driving to the very girl who makes him never want to listen to it again. He keeps it on, though, hoping it’s some sort of sign that he’s making the right choice.

Maybe this time she’ll think swaying is dancing.  

“I was drowning.”

He’s a little less than an hour outside of Scranton, but both his car and body need refueling. He pulls off on Exit 17 and into a small, 24/7 Fairview gas station. He’s exhausted as he browses the aisles, having only gotten a couple hours of sleep before Pam had called. He grabs a hot coffee from the self-serve machines, a bag of gummy bears, and a slightly bruised apple before going to the counter. He glances down at the rows of candy underneath the register, the silver packing of York Peppermint Patties catching his eye.

He pops a jellybean in his mouth as he watches her play solitaire. “Are jellybeans your favorite candy?”

She glances up at him before returning to her game, moving a red seven onto a black eight. “No, they’re not. Why?”

He shrugs, “You always have them up here, I just assumed it was because you liked them so much.”

“I actually can’t stand them most of the time. I only like the Jelly Belly kind, and only the red and green ones.”

He chuckles, “Wow, you’re picky.” She rolls her eyes, but he sees the smile she’s trying to hide. “So, what is your favorite candy?”

“York Peppermint Patties.”

“Oh, c’mon, Beesly. Those aren’t candy, those are mints.”

She keeps her eyes on her game, but her mouth falls open, a little offended, “They are not just mints! They’re good!”

“’Mint’ is literally in their name.”

“That’s just the flavor. Mints are hard and you have to suck on them.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Oh my God, are you Michael?” He laughs and she can’t help but giggle herself. “What’s your favorite, then?”

“Oh, easy. Gummy bears, especially the green ones.”

“You’re so original.”

“Hey, at least my favorite is an actual candy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns her computer towards him as the cards bounce around the screen. “New time. Beat that, Halpert.”

He grabs a package of them, and the cashier adds it to his bag. He doesn’t know if they’re still her favorite or if she will even take them. If nothing else, it can be the start of his peace offering.

“I needed to hear your voice.”

He wonders if he should call her, even though he’s only twenty minutes away and it’s basically too late at this point. He’s afraid that showing up on her doorstep will be too forward, too much. Will push her away like he did on Casino Night.

But she’s single now, or at least she was last time Phyllis had called to update him on everything Scranton. She said she missed him, needed to hear his voice, wanted to see him. It becomes his mantra, playing on a loop in his head while Death Cab by Cutie blares through his speakers. Anything to keep him going and not turn back.  

The number of miles on his GPS grow smaller as he passes through the Scranton city limits, heading west. He has to slow down as he gets closer, having never been to this part of town. The sky is still pitch black, the time just past six a.m., so he has to squint in order to see the street names through only his headlights. It took him an extra five minutes when he realized that he had passed her street and had to find a spot to turn around. Eventually, though, he turns left onto Morningside Lane, then turns right into her apartment complex after another two miles.

“Why didn’t you block me?”

He parks next to a little blue Yaris. He’s never seen the car before, but he assumes it’s hers since the parking spot is labeled with the same number as her door. He looks up at her apartment, directly in front of him but up on the second floor. He can see a small pumpkin and some mums that appear to be on the verge of death sitting next to her door. There’s a sign on her door that reads “Happy Hallo-weenie” with a picture of a wiener dog in a witch costume underneath it. He chuckles, trying to imagine all the little Halloween knick-knacks she has scattered around her apartment, knowing she loves the holiday that he couldn’t care less for. He wonders if she’ll be happy that he came, if she will invite him inside. He hopes so.

“Can I come over?”

He doesn’t have a plan. All he knew was that he had to get to Scranton. He had to get to her apartment. He had to get to her. But now as he sits in his car, the very early signs of light starting to show in the sky as he stares at the wiener dog on her front door, he thinks he should come up with something to say that isn’t just “Hi.” Or “I’m still desperately in love with you, please love me back.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“I can’t.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too.”

“You’re still going to marry him?”

He tries to push the thoughts out of his head. This time it was different. She broke up with Roy. She ended it, because of him. Because he told her he loves her. She’s her own person now, and she wants to see him. Or, at least, drunk Pam wants to see him. He’ll take what he can get.

“I want to see you.”

He grabs the package of York Peppermint Patties before stepping out of the car and climbing the stairs to the second floor.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What do you expect me to say to that?”

“I just needed you to hear it. Once.”

“You have no idea what your friendship means to me.”

“I want more than that.”

“I think we’re just drunk.”

He walks down the short hallway that leads to her apartment.

“We had a funeral for a bird.”

“You weren’t there.”

“I miss you.”

“I want to see you.”

He’s face to face with the 302B that is screwed into her door. This is it. Her last chance, their last chance. He’s not trying again after this. He physically can’t. If she doesn’t want to see him, tells him that she was more drunk than she thought and she still doesn’t love him, then he’ll leave and never return. This time he will block her number, will burn the paper with her address on it, might switch jobs so he can’t have access to her files anymore. He won’t step foot in Pennsylvania again if that’s what it takes to get over her.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before knocking on the door.

It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now

Her head is killing her when she suddenly wakes. She glances at the time and sees it’s way too early for anyone to be awake on a Saturday, so she pulls the covers over her head to block out the tiny bit of light that is starting to come through the window. She almost falls back to sleep when she hears banging coming from the front of her apartment. She ignores it, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to will whatever it is that’s waking her up to just go away. But there’s more banging a couple of seconds later, so she throws her covers off and stomps off towards her door in order to scare off whatever is outside, take some aspirin, and then go back to bed.

She grabs her broom before throwing her door open, looking straight at Jim’s chest. She looks up at him, her eyebrows furrowed and face full of confusion. He gives her a half smile and then points to the broom in her hand.

“You can just ask me to leave, no need for any weaponry.”

She looks over at the broom and sets it down, leaning it against her wall before turning back to him, “I thought you were a raccoon or a possum or something. What are you doing here?”

“Um,” he stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs, looking down towards his shoes, “I don’t really know, honestly. I couldn’t sleep after you called and everything you said just got me thinking about some things.”

Throughout the sudden wake up, all the banging, her headache, and then seeing Jim standing outside her door, it took her a second to remember what he was talking about. When she does remember calling him and everything she had told him, she sighs and leans against her doorframe, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I just got emotional and I didn’t mean—”

He looks up at her and she meets his eyes. He has the same look he did back in May when she stopped him from kissing her again. His voice is a little thicker, though she can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion or if he’s starting to tear up. Maybe a little bit of both. “You didn’t mean what you said?”

Her eyebrows furrow again, “What? No. I did. I was going to say I didn’t mean to make you come all the way over here just to check on me.”

“That’s not why I came.”

She waits a moment for him to continue but when he doesn’t, she asks, “So, why did you?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before answering, “Because I needed to know if this is over or not. I needed to know if you were just drunk and weren’t thinking straight like that night in Chili’s or if you actually missed me and are changing your mind. I need to get over you but I can’t do that if you call me at one in the morning and tell me all these things that might seem so little to you but they mean so much to me, even if it’s a little pathetic. Okay, a lot pathetic. But I just needed to know, once and for all.”

“I just needed you to know. Once.”

“Well, I um… I… I can’t.”

“Yeah.”

She shakes her head and takes a step back, holding the door open wider. “Can you come in? My head is killing me and it’s cold.”

He nods before stepping forward and past her to stand in the foyer. He holds out his hand and she laughs a little bit when she sees the silver packaging. “I had to stop for gas and coffee. These are still your favorite, right?”

She shuts the door and smiles at him before saying, “Yes, they are. Thank you. Let me just take some aspirin and then we can talk.” He nods again and she moves into her kitchen to grab some medicine and water. She sets the candy down and then watches him out of the corner of her eye as he looks around her apartment as discreetly as possible, never moving from where he stood. She takes a glass out of the cabinet and looks back at him, “You can look around if you want.”

He chuckles and gives a quiet, “Okay,” as he steps forward into her living room, looking at the art on her walls and the knick-knacks on her bookshelves. She fills her glass with water and grabs two aspirin then turns and watches him as she swallows them down.

“Did you paint all of these?”

She glances up at the wall of paintings. Some she had done in her art classes and some she had just done for fun. He seems to focus in on one that’s hanging on the top right of her wall and it takes her a second to remember which one it is.

It’s one of her smaller paintings, a four by six canvas with a one-inch border surrounding the perimeter. In the middle is two empty lawn chairs surrounded by a dark sky and one small firework burning in the background.

She sets her glass down on the counter and walks into the living room, crossing her arms over her chest. “I had a lot of fun that night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She’s looking at the painting with him now, but she’s imagining her and Jim sitting in the lawn chairs like they did that night. “I think swaying could be dancing. Well, if you’re a bad dancer, anyway.”

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. He studies the painting for a moment longer before turning towards her. She looks at him and it’s all in his eyes. Every apology, every excuse, every emotion he is feeling, she can see it.

Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

And I said I wouldn't call, but I'm a little drunk and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now

I just need you now

“I’m sorry.”

Their words come out at the same time, falling into sync, just as they always had. They both smile and he gestures for her to go first.

“I meant what I said when I called. I didn’t expect to call, and I really didn’t expect you to answer, but I meant everything. It’s so weird without you here, and not just because Michael and Dwight have been getting on my nerves so much more since you left. I look up and all I see if Ryan. I eat lunch by myself now. The days drag on, I’m constantly counting down the seconds until five o’clock hits. I never did any of that before, you never made any of those even an option. And I never realized how much I took it for granted until you weren’t there anymore. I’m sorry I said no in May. I loved you then, really, but my mind was refusing to let me believe it. I had pushed aside my feelings for you for eight years, Jim. It wasn’t something I could just suddenly accept, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Which is why I just needed a little time. Just a couple of hours, even. I was so ready to walk in on Friday and ask you if you wanted to go get coffee so we could talk, but you were already gone. And then I waited and you never called or texted, and it’s like I get it, but it hurt. I thought you hated me.”

“I’m sorry I left, but I put my whole heart out there for you to take. When you didn’t do that? It killed me. I had been talking to Jan about the position in Stamford for a couple of weeks before I left, and when you told me you were still going to marry Roy, I accepted it. You were the only thing keeping me here.”

“I have no future in Scranton if you’re not in it.”

She takes a small step towards him, “Would you come back?”

“What?”

“Because I needed to know if this is over or not.”

“Would you come back? If I could be in your future?”

“Pam—”

“Would you?”

He looks at her and steps towards her, their bodies only a few inches apart now. She drops her arms to her sides and looks up at him. His eyes are just a shade darker now, she can just barely feel his breath on her skin.

His voice is low, “Do you want me to?”

“But I just needed to know, once and for all.”

“Yes.”

His lips are on hers before she can finish the word. His arms wrap around her waist as hers go around his neck, fingers getting tangled in his hair. He swipes his tongue along her bottom lip, and she opens immediately, trying to memorize every part of him. He moves to start kissing her jawline then down her neck. When his lips meet her shoulders, she pulls back just enough to look at him. She kisses his lips again, unable to resist when he has that look on his face, before stepping back and grabbing his hand.

“Come on,” she whispers, leading him back towards her bedroom.

***

Her back is against his chest as he sleeps, his breath deep and slow in her hair. His arm is around her waist and she interlocks her fingers with his. She’s starving, the sun is shining right in her face, and her headache is still lingering. But after five long months and eight long years, Jim is in Scranton and he’s with her. She doesn’t need anything else.