“Michael, what did Jim say to you last night?”

They had just pulled out of the apartment complex when Pam blurted out the question that had been on her mind most of the morning.

“To Jim, I never spoke to him. I didn’t speak to anyone last night. I swear. You told me not to and I didn’t. Not even when I was trying to…”

Pam cut him off before he could finish.

“No, Michael. Not last night, last night, Two weeks ago, last night. When Jim came up to talk to you after you were hauled off by Captain Jack.”

Michael was a two-fisted driver, not quite a firm knuckled ten and two-er but he did keep both hands loosely planted on the wheel as he steered. However, her question seemed his seemed to make him grip it that much tighter.

“Uhm Jim. Hmm. I can’t remember. Did I talk to Jim on the boat that night? Nope, can’t recall having any conversation with him.”

He kept his head facing straight ahead, never taking his eyes off the road, yet Pam could see the nervousness in them. The intensity with which they stared out ahead was a dead giveaway he was trying to hide something.

“Michael, of course you did. You already told me about it. Remember, last Friday. First you pretty much let the whole office in on the secret he confided in you. Then later you repeated it again to me. In your office, remember? But it’s okay because Jim also told me about the crush he umm…”

She paused. Jim had told her that day he used to have a crush, long ago, but it was over. He’d told her it ended as soon as he learned she was engaged. But between what Michael had told her that same day and what she overheard last night, she was fairly positive that it was not over and perhaps was more than just a crush, both then and now.

“Jim already told me how he feels about me.”

“Nope, uh uh, no way. Not going to do it Pam. I already said too much that day. I let my good friend Jim down and I’m not going to do it again.”

All of a sudden, he was a vault?

The big joke around the office was always telegraph, telephone, tell-a-Michael. Everyone knew you don’t tell Michael anything unless you wanted it to spread like wildfire. Was this another side effect of time travel, his ability to be discreet?

Pam was quite shocked to learn Jim had confided anything in their boss knowing he could not keep a secret to save his life. But he had and Michael of course, had let it slip. In overhearing part of the exchange herself, she had some additional context to what Michael blurted out at the end of that long day, but not enough to know exactly what Jim’s true feelings were.

There were things he shared last night that she hadn’t quite been able to hear over the wind but she was now desperate to know and Michael knew what they were. Pam figured all it would take was a little nudge to get him to spill so she pushed him some more. Surely if he knew she’d seen them talking he’d give up more of the details.

“Michael, last night on the deck, when I left you in the storage room, I saw you guys. I heard him telling you how he has a big thing for me. I hear him say I’m warm and…”

This time it was Michael who did the cutting off.

“Nice try. If you heard, then why are you asking? Nope, going to the grave with this secret. I’m not going to tell you anything more about how thanks to me, Jim’s not giving…”

Michael’s right hand released the wheel and flew up to his mouth.

“Damn, I almost did it again. That’s it, Pam. New topic. What language do you think I should learn this week?”

---

Randall’s place was not at all what Pam had expected, not that she had ever given any thought to what kind of an apartment the cameraman lived in until they walked through the door.

The apartment itself had a somewhat standard layout, but with luxury fixtures and detailing and an open concept living/dining room combo that extended from the foyer, with a kitchen to the left and a long hall to the right where she supposed the bedroom and office were.

Within the space, the furniture was a mix of high-end, contemporary pieces and Ikea’s best, an eclectic combination styled around the room’s centerpiece, a sophisticated and timeless, but yet too-big-for-the-room, tufted-back sofa in alabaster white.

The couch wasn’t the only thing that seemed just a little out of place in the modest-sized apartment. Randall too, seemed somehow different from his usual self, but Pam couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was.

“Come, come, meet my better half.”

He took on a more casual tone as he ushered her and Michael into the room as if they were old friends he’d invited for dinner and not the documentary subjects, who upon slipping through a wormhole in time had become misplaced and stranded, relying on Randall’s good nature and perhaps poor judgement to grant them temporary shelter.

Wrapping his arm around the woman who emerged from the hallway holding a lens case and bottle of solution, he introduced her.

“This is my beautiful, kind, too-good-for-me, wife, Gabrielle.”

“Gabby,” she offered with a warm smile as she switched the items to her other hand so she could shake Pam’s and then Michael’s but when she reached for his, rather than clasp hers in the traditional manner, he instead pulled it to his lips to plant a kiss on the back of it as if she were the queen.

Looking only moderately surprised, she allowed the courtly gesture, then looked back at her husband who locked eyes with her in a silent communication that reminded Pam of the way she sometimes passed messages to Jim without ever saying a word.

When Gabby turned back to smile at her guests, it came to Pam who she looked like, the actress Emma Thompson. Not how she looked in Harry Potter with the thick rimmed, coke-bottle spectacles, although she wondered if she too would have to wear glasses like those if it weren’t for contacts, nor the Nanny McPhee version with the bulbous nose, chin mole and snaggletooth. It was more like her character in Love Actually, or a slightly older version, with a few more wrinkles around her eyes and mouth but with the same warm smile, sharp nose and high cheekbones.

It was no wonder Randall knew the Harry Potter movies so well, they must watch everything her actress doppelgänger appeared in.

After short bit more of conversation, Randall excused himself for the kitchen and Gabby led them back through the hall to the bathroom where they could wash up. She’d handed each of them a stack with a towel and a brand-new toothbrush, plus clothes they could sleep in. Michael was given a pair of Randall’s old sweatpants that would no-doubt be way too long and too big, and an old concert tee-shirt from Led Zeppelin’s 1975 tour. For Pam, she had a pajama set in pink adorned with tiny butterflies.

Aside from a request for bacon from Michael, things had gone relatively smooth when they came back out after taking turns changing and washing. Pam was still in a slight state of shock about her eyesight, but being too tired and too confused, she decided not to make mention of it, not that she could explain if she had.

Apparently, Randall was quite weary himself from the long day of shooting, first at the office and then on the boat, so after he reminded Michael once again he was not to sleep on the couch, he and his wife retired to their own bedroom at the end of the hall.

As they walked off together, Pam wondered how much Randall had told his wife about why they needed a place to stay, and what she genuinely believed. Was the connection between husband and wife so strong that she was willing to accept even the most preposterous explanation that the two visitors to their home were essentially time-traveling facsimiles of their other versions with no place to stay, if only just because he said knew it to be true? 

Did she have that same kind of relationship with Roy where he would believe it if she were to tell him she was here from the future or would he think she were drugged or having some sort of mental breakdown? Most likely he’d just reproach her for hanging around Jim too much, bellowing that the stupid pranks she often described to him on their drive home were not funny when Jim pulled them on Dwight, but even less so when his influence was causing her to play them on him.

No, she decided. She couldn’t tell Roy something like that. She couldn’t even tell him she believed in spiritual beings like ghosts and angels, afraid he would chastise her for taking her Sunday school lessons way too literally and being overly superstitious. She was just grateful he was willing to be married in a church, as religion was not high on his list of priorities. When it came to raising children with her faith, she wasn’t sure what to expect from him but she supposed she’d cross that bridge when it came about. Children were probably way off in the future anyway and presently she had another kind of problem with the child that was currently in her life, her boss.

Michael, despite the fluffy comforter and full pillow he was given, seemed rather unhappy with his accommodations on the main room’s hardwood floor. Pam just hoped his complaints were not overheard by the generous couple and she warned him again to keep quiet and stay off the pristine ivory couch he was told was not suitable for sleeping on and left him for the room where she, as he so pointedly stated out in his displeased grumbles, at least had a sleeper sofa waiting.

The bed in the small office was opened and made up. The blankets awaiting her on the pull-out seemed even fuller and more luxurious than the one left with Michael and there were two plump pillows at the head. Everything looked and felt brand-new except for the scent of a detergent or softener, which filled her nose as she nestled herself underneath the covers, indicating they had been washed at least once before.

Pam had slept on many a pull-out couch in visits to relatives and friends but never one as comfortable as the one she settled into, which she figured was due more to how tired she was and less about the mattress itself, but either way she drifted right off.

She couldn’t have been out more than ten minutes, when a rap on the door awoke her from the dream she was already in.  Michael, not even waiting for her to answer before he cracked it open, stuck his head in and whispered loudly.

“Pam, are you up?”

“Huh, wha, Michael. Now I am.”

Without invitation, he tiptoed in with pillow and blanket in hand and complained again about the cold floor and the glare from the parking lot floodlights, pleading with her for permission to sleep in the office with her. Pam was too tired to do anything but murmur her consent after which Michael made himself a makeshift bed out of the little bench she hadn’t before noticed before on the opposite side of the room. After a few adjustments of the pillow and his body, he settled down at last and she too was able to get back to sleep, not awaking again until morning.

When Pam fully came to and got her bearings, Michael was flipping through a photo album that she was sure hadn’t been out in the open for him to find. In fact, she wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it from but with his ignorance of personal boundaries, as it turned out there in the room with her as the new day began was the more prudent place for him to be. If he was out in the common space come morning he could be rummaging through the kitchen or bugging Gabby to cook him some breakfast, or doing something else to get himself in trouble with their hosts. At least in here with her, they awoke around the same time and she could keep him from doing anything stupid while unsupervised. It was then she decided, however long they were welcome to stay here, they would have to be roommates.

It being Friday and a work day, Randall had already left for Dunder Mifflin but his wife, Gabby, who they learned during their brief conversation was a former schoolteacher whose current employment was limited to occasional substitute teaching and tutoring, was still home and having a cup of coffee when Michael and Pam came out from the home office.

She was as gracious as she was the night before, offering breakfast and hot beverages and insisting they were no trouble and were welcome to stay as long as they needed. Pam had to wonder how much Randall told her about his experiences filming at Dunder Mifflin. Obviously, not all that much if she were open to having Michael as a guest for more than a day or two. That is until what she said next.

“Oh, and Michael, I’ll tell you what I used to tell my students. You get three strikes and then you’re out.”

---

Little more than an hour later they were back in their own clothes and on the road. The plan was for Michael to drop Pam back by her house to shower, change and pack a bag of necessities for the week to come. While she was at her house, Michael would head back to his own condo to do the same then return to pick her up when he was done.

After Michael succeeded in changing the subject from Jim and the chat they had on the boat, Pam took the lull that followed as an opportunity to reiterate Gabby’s words, instilling in him that he had only two passes if he did something foolish. She was extremely apprehensive that even with his most worthy attempts to be a civilized and well-mannered guest, three strikes were not going to be enough.

Not by a longshot.

But she could only hope for the best and remind him that it would not be at all wise to bring his George Forman grill back with him.

“Well of course I can’t take my grill.”

Well, for once he’s thinking rationally.

“If I took it what would my other self do without it?”

Okay, maybe not completely rationally.

The time jump still had her head a little discombobulated and her fixation on what she overheard kept her from thinking about what other events would come to pass while they were here in the past; however, with all the talk of grills and bacon she was reminded of what Michael was scheduled to do Monday morning before work, and that was grill his foot.

Amusing as it was when they first heard it—she could still picture the absolute delight on Jim’s face when he shared his insane misfortune over the speaker phone—it had caused quite the chaotic day in the office, not to mention the chain of events that followed the morning call, leading to Dwight’s concussion.

“Actually, maybe you should take it away from your other self. Do you not recall what is going to happen on Monday? If you take it you won’t wind up grilling your foot with it. Just make sure you leave it in the rental car. Do not bring it into the apartment.”

Michael scoffed at this.

“Pfftt, that was nothing. I healed in no time. That afternoon if I recall. Even without my medicinal yams.”

He furrowed his brow in annoyance.

“I’m still a little miffed Ryan didn’t find those for me.”

Pam had heard talk of pregnancy amnesia. Roy’s mother spoke of it often when she talked about the morning sickness she’d had with every child and the difficult labors she experienced each time and yet she had four children. She once explained to Pam how somehow after the birthing process, the mind was erased of all the pain and discomfort that went along with bringing babies into the world so that you would be able to go through it again.

Clearly, Michael had some form of this, only his birthing process was the trip through time and what he forgot was what a baby he himself had been that whole day.

“Yeah, well do you recall the pain in the ass you were all morning. How you carried on? And how your actions affected the rest of us?

“What happened to the rest of you?  I’m the one who was hobbling around all day? I’m the one who experienced what it was to be disabled.  I’m the one who had to go to the hospital.”

“Um, to take Dwight there after he crashed on the way to pick you up and gave himself a concussion. Have you forgotten that?”

Michael didn’t respond except to ask what his next turn was and it wasn’t until after making the right on Union Street that he spoke up again.

“Okay, how about instead of taking away the grill I just leave myself a note.  I’ll write in big bold letters - don’t step down on this grill.”

Somehow Pam knew that no mere note was going to prevent Michael’s injury, but they had arrived at her house and she was anxious to get inside and take a shower so she dropped the matter.  She knew she wasn’t getting anywhere with Michael and besides, who was she to deny Jim the fodder for all the jokes he would get in that day. In the end, Dwight was fine as well and she did enjoy seeing that different side of him even if it was short-lived.

Upon pulling up to the small house she shared with Roy, she instructed Michael to wait in the car while she ran around back to retrieve the spare key she kept hidden in a crack of one of the flowerpots on the small landing outside the home’s rear entrance. She placed it there for Roy’s use when his own keys were confiscated by the bartender at Poor Richard’s or one of his more responsible friends. It was the rare instance that he actually used it, as he was mostly too drunk to even remember it was there. Instead, he would more often lean on the doorbell or pound the door calling out Pammy, Pammy, wake up and let me in, way after she’d gone to bed.

He must have remembered it once over the past month or so because it wasn’t there when she went to retrieve it from the hiding spot. In her mind she replayed the prior weeks trying to recall when it was. It would have been around the holidays which he seemed to feel were best celebrated by going out drinking consecutive nights in a row as opposed to the way she liked, staying home, wrapping presents and watching the holiday movies while enjoying hot cocoa with candy canes. Yes, she remembered at least one night where she wasn’t awakened at 2AM to let him in. She supposed she was grateful he finally learned to use it but damned if she should she expect him to remember to return it so it would be there for the next time.

Or for the rare occasion where her own time-traveling twin might need it.

Michael was shifting gears to leave when she came back to the car.

“Not so fast,” she exclaimed. “The spare key wasn’t there. I’m going to…”

Michael set the car back into park and drummed on the steering wheel before lifting his finger to tap his lips. If he were a cartoon she might be seeing smoke emerging from his ears as his mind began to churn up a plan, with an animated light bulb popping up in the moment to follow.

“Okay Pam so here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll drive to the office and sneak in up the stairs. It’s a good thing your desk is up front, not as long you’ll have to slink across the floor. There’s a spot right past the couch where it’s extra creaky when you’re down on all fours down there.”

His hands demonstrated a crawling motion while she wondered when and why he would have been in the situation that necessitated snaking along the reception area floor and just as soon decided she didn’t want to know.

“Of course, you’ll have to wait until you are not there at the desk. What time do you take your morning bathroom break?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, not that she had one for him as her trips to the restrooms were not tied to any schedule as his seemed to be.

“Then you’ll steal the key from your purse. You’ll sneak back out. Don’t forget to watch out for that creaky spot. We’ll go to the hardware store, make a copy. You’ll have to get it back right away so you don’t notice it missing, so we’ll return directly after the store to the office but this time we’ll take the back stairs. You need to mix it up sometimes, take a different route, you know. After we put the original key back, then we can come back here to get your stuff.”

Pam lowered her eyes as he droned on, lifting her lids again when he stopped to take a breath.

“Or I could just go ask the landlord, who also happens to be Roy’s aunt, to let me in. She lives next door.”

A hint of disappointment flickered in Michael’s eyes as his face dropped in defeat. It wasn’t hard for Pam to figure out why. For him, a morning engaged in a super spy mission, was not only a thrilling means to pass the time but would provide the perfect material for his screenplay and the agent Scarn character who starred in it.

Michael was still unaware she had discovered it, had no clue she immediately shared it with Jim and was oblivious the staff enjoyed a most amusing table read of his script that same afternoon; an afternoon that extended into the evening when she stayed behind to enjoy a rooftop dinner and somewhat lackluster but still highly entertaining fireworks show with Jim. Thinking back on the night, she felt a faint twitching in her cheeks and twinkle in her eyes, as much from having knowledge of Michael’s alter-ego as it was from the joyful memory of the night she’d spent goofing around with Jim.

“But wait right here, don’t go anywhere yet.”

She couldn’t have him leave before she was absolutely sure she could get inside her house but she was somewhat confident that wouldn’t be an issue, Roy’s aunt would likely be home. It was only shortly after ten a.m. and she’d never known the woman to come out of her house before noon. Much like her nephew on non-working days, she lazed about in her sleepwear all morning. Sweet as she was, she wasn’t an ambitious or active woman except when it came to chatting and spreading gossip.

But Pam also decided to let Michael have his fun thinking about secret missions if only for a little bit longer so she added,” If she’s not home, we’ll have to go to your plan B.”

Leaving the car, Pam walked to the entrance on the far side of the house, since the neighboring Anderson’s only use for the front door was to hang a wreath on it at Christmas and yell at Jehovah’s Witnesses through it; even the mailman knew to come around when he had packages or mail needing a signature. Aunt Janet probably wouldn’t even answer if she knocked at the front, but at the side she would know her morning visitor was familiar.

Even so, Pam prayed she wouldn’t ask too many questions as to why she was back home on a Friday morning and hoped she wasn’t waking her up. She knew the woman was always awake early to make her husband breakfast, as Roy had more than once commented how his both his dad and Uncle Keith enjoyed eggs or pancakes and sometimes even French toast in the morning served by their wives and only half-jokingly asked why she didn’t do the same for him. Pam’s answer was to slam a box of cereal on the table in front of him and storm out of the kitchen.

What she wasn’t sure about was if Aunt Janet returned to bed after her husband left for the day. But when she opened the door, just moments after Pam knocked, the older woman as suspected was still in nightwear, but seemed happy if not a little surprised to see Pam standing there.

“Why aren’t you at work dear?”

Not quite as good at the secret spy stuff as her boss, she stammered a bit before she answered, “Oh, I’m um running errands with my boss and I ah realized I forgot my um purse at home this morning so I was stopping off to get it and well, without my bag, I don’t have my key to get in.”

Okay, maybe not so bad. The years of playing partner to Jim in his devious pranks on Dwight must be sharpening her skills for subterfuge.

Unless that is, Janet decided to come over with her to open the door for her. In all her years, she almost never forgot to take her bag with her, this morning being no exception. She was one hundred percent certain of it as she’d lived the day already and knew it would not be anywhere in the house.

“Oh, okay hon.”

The older woman turned to grab a set of keys from the table Pam knew sat just off to her right.   

As she handed them to Pam she added, “I thought maybe it was because you and Roy were playing hooky to celebrate setting the date.”

The corners of her mouth wobbled deviously and her eyebrows lifted with conspiratorial amusement.

“Congratulations, sweetheart. June is such a lovely time to get married. Vicky was so excited to share the news last night.”

Pam thought back on her night, the version she experienced two weeks back. Roy was too drunk to drive home that night after all his snorkel shots, so he took the passenger seat while she drove. Normally she’d have been bothered by how plastered he was, but that night she was ecstatic because she was preoccupied visualizing herself as bride. She couldn’t wait to get home and unbury the magazine with the dogeared page from the bottom of her night table drawer. She prayed the gown that caught her eye three years ago or at least something like it, was still out there in one of the bridal boutiques.

Now that they were really engaged with a date and everything, they could start looking at venues, choosing flowers and planning a honeymoon. Her patience had been so close to its breaking point, so much she had been thinking of putting an ultimatum before him, even if unsure if she would ever have the strength to follow through on it.

But now she didn’t need to. His incessant stalling no longer threatened to poison what they had. He at last seemed excited about getting married, so much so, he’d even called his mother to share the news while Pam navigated the way home. Of course, knowing the Anderson women, this would have set off the phone tree in which one of the very first branches was Aunt Janet.

“You know she’s been on his case for months now, telling him he was crazy to make you wait. She even wanted us to jack up the rent on you guys, to tell you only married couples continue to get the family discount in the hopes it would light a fire under his ass. I think she threatened him with that recently even though I told her the only person who should be lighting matches was you. Guess you finally did something to heat that boy up. Good for you, Pammy.”

Pam suddenly had to wonder whether it was flames that got him to act, or fear of losing out on the discounted rent they got from his aunt and uncle. Whatever it was, she had an appointment to look at dresses in a few days, well, now she supposed it would be a few weeks away again. But she had waited this long so she could handle an extra 15 days.

However it came to pass that he at last set the date didn’t make much difference. What mattered was after all the waiting, in five months she was going to have her wedding and be a bride.