- Text Size +

Pam slumps down at Jim's desk after the office door softly clicks closed behind him. She can still feel the echo of his lips on hers; the feel of the soft wisps of hair at the nape of his neck as they'd passed along her fingertips not five minutes ago. A sob lodges itself deep within her throat and threatens to break her. Before she can stop herself, she begins to weep. She cries for what feels like an eternity, at first not even trying to understand why. She just lets the tears flow, hears her whaled moans ricochet around her, gives in to the drama of it all as it lands in a puddle of tears on her dress.  

When the swell of emotion begins to ebb, she reasons she should probably get a freakin' grip. She fights the next rise coming and focuses her breath so she can utilize all her efforts to sorting through this mess. She doesn't understand why she can't get clarity; why this is impacting her so strongly. So many emotions are rolling into each other: anger, confusion, fear, excitement, shock, guilt, sadness... They're all there, but no one label seems to encapsulate all that she's trudging through right now.

She knows she feels blindsided; scared of the volume of emotions she's been exposed to in just one night. It really has felt like a roller coaster, though she's honest enough to admit she's known some of the truth presented tonight before Jim spoke those words to her. However, she can't admit much more beyond that; she's not honest enough.  

She steals herself. Tries to be convincing with a shrug. "It'll blow over." Their friendship is solid; years of growth and dependability. It might be awkward for a hot minute, but they'll make it through; laugh it off one day... once the ghost of the tear tumbling down his cheek fades from her mind; once the memory of soft lips and strong arms loosens and with it, the tingling tightness she feels all over her body. Her stomach flops at the recollection. "It's just because it was unexpected."

**I'm in love with you.**  flop

**I want... more than that.**  flop

**You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.**   flop

A twinge of worry enters the periphery of her mind. Why is her body reacting like this? She brushes it away along with the fresh batch of tears that are dripping off her chin. She tells herself that her concern is just for what would happen if Roy found out.

Roy.

Man, is she grateful the film crew left a while ago!! She'd hate for him to get the wrong idea about that kiss. But, what's the RIGHT idea? Of course, she doesn't want to hurt him; doesn't want to think about what all this means for them. They're getting married in three weeks. That's what she's wanted for her entire adult life, and then some. "I don't want to lose Roy." 

As quickly as she thinks this, though, another sob finds itself wedged in her throat. As the next upsurge of emotion takes her, Pam suddenly realizes it's really not Roy she's crying over; she's crying about Jim. This realization brings another round of blubbering as its faithful companion. What if we aren't okay after this? What if we can't get passed it? She feels panicked; frozen with fear and confusion and the worry of something that feels a whole lot like loss. "Oh my gosh! I don't want to lose Jim!"

And, there it is- dawning understanding of what she's previously only allowed herself to know in fragmented portions- she loves him... she loves him! Finally, she gets it!! She can't let this be the end of their story! It should be the beginning! Her sobs have now turned a bit hysterical as laughter bubbles up in her chest and mingles with her still cascading tears.

She sees the options in front of her now and knows only she can make any of this right. For her. For Jim. For Roy, too. Continuing in the direction they were headed, merely an hour ago, wouldn't be fair to anyone involved. She's overwhelmed with a myriad of items that swiftly make their way on her mental to-do list. She's always been pragmatic; a planner. She jumps up, quickly grabbing a few sheets of pale pink heavy bond, a sheet of copier paper, and an envelope from behind her desk.

With resolute focus, she sits back down at Jim's desk, inhaling deeply and running her hands along the arms of his chair as she pushes the air all the way out of her lungs, eyes slightly bugged at the gravity of the situation the night has brought her way. Leaning forward, she picks up one of the pens sitting on top of his desk, absentmindedly bringing the chewed end up and brushing it across her lips. A wistful smile crosses her face as she leans forward, pen to paper, and begins, "Jim-..."

She feels a flush rise on her skin and the flutter of her heart as she begins to honestly uncover all she feels; all she's kept carefully under lock and key- hidden even from herself- for so very long. It's dizzying; heady. The two types of paper before her each duel for her complete attention. Instead, she wrangles them both under her control with all the multi-tasking talents she's earned from years of working at Dunder Mifflin, and with Michael Scott, in particular. She stops sporadically along the way of her paper confessional, only to add to the other sheet as her mind flits to needed items that she'll eventually check off her copy paper list. Each to-do, marked by an empty box beside it, would make any sane person anxious. And Pam's list grows past the confines of one side of the page, as one "to-do" written breeds at least three more. But it's as if the words she writes in flowing script on the pink paper have the power to nullify all those anxieties and more. With each sentence outlining her affection, her plans, her hopes for their future, she feels more emboldened; more ALIVE! Every item on the white sheet begins to feel more like a hurdle she can't wait to jump just so she can get to all the possibilities pouring into promises on the pink pages under her hand.

When she's done, both pink and white pages filled to the brim, she shoves back taking another steadying, energizing breath. She stares ahead in the room and beyond, weighing this moment of decision against all others vying for importance to her life. It has no equal. Coming back to the room, she glimpses the copier machine in front of her and swiftly rises to make a photocopy of the letter. She knows herself well enough to know that she'll want the opportunity to read and (over) analyze her words later when the newness of these emotions has dissipated to a more manageable strain. After all, this is the bravest and most honest she has ever been. It's both thrilling and terrifying. She carefully folds the original neatly into the envelope and scrolls his name on the front after sealing all her love inside. Then, carefully setting the letter in a place of prominence on his desk, she tucks in his chair.

She moves to her desk, dialing 411 to connect her to Yellow Cab, and requests a pick up from the building. Grabbing her jacket and taking her purse out of her locked drawer, she folds her copy of her declaration and slips it inside the pocket of her bag. She quickly grabs a pen and her To-Do list. Picking up her cellphone, she dials the first number programmed in while she makes her first checkmark in the empty box next to the item at the top.

"Mom? It's me. I need your help."


You must login (register) to review or leave jellybeans