A half hour later the key still hadn’t turned up.  

Neither had Michael.  

With nothing more to do but wait, she went on searching as she did. Every so often she’d step up to the front windows to pull back the curtains and peer down the street to check for his car. Each time it wasn’t in sight she went back to looking for where Roy could have left the key. 

In her desperation, Pam almost went back to Janet’s to ask again for the one she’d borrowed earlier. But unable to come up with a good reason why she was both still at home and why she would need to keep it for a week, she decided against that plan. She was already concerned about when Janet next talked to Roy. It wasn’t that aunt and nephew had regular gab sessions. More and more as Pam became entrenched into the Anderson family, whenever Janet had news to share or needed something from them, she would first ring up Pam. In fact, most of her communication with Roy was now by way of Pam, however in this case she might just decide to call him to offer congratulations and in the process spill the beans about Pam’s mid-morning stop at the house. 

She hadn’t thought much about it when she had gone to Janet’s earlier but in the hours since she realized what a mess she may have created by stopping there. If Janet did speak to Roy and then he asked her about it, she, her other self, would have no clue what he was talking about.  

But there wasn’t much she could do about it now so she tried to put it out of her mind as she went on looking for the key that she figured had to be somewhere in the house. 

The next place she searched, deep in the various pockets of pants Roy had thrown in the hamper to be washed, still didn’t produce the item in question, however between the three pairs she collected another 23 dollars. She felt a twinge of guilt pocketing his cash, but since she’d been telling him forever to empty his jeans before leaving them for her to wash, she felt somewhat justified in taking it. And now more than even before it was technically their money. 

"Finders, keepers, Roy", she whispered as she threw the jeans back into the hamper, checking at the bottom of the bin just in case the missing key fell out and landed there. 

By the time she finally located it in the den, under a pile of fantasy football prep sheets that Roy left out on the table he used as a desk, Michael was over an hour late. Not terribly worried yet, she pulled out the Harry Potter book she had packed in her old overnight bag and pulling up a kitchen chair to the front window she began to read a bit of The Prisoner of Azkaban hoping to find more clues about the rules of time travel and what they could expect in two weeks’ time when they caught up to the point they traveled back from.  

Because an hour late for Michael was the equivalent of ten minutes late for the average person, it wasn’t until another thirty minutes passed that her panic set in.  She still had plenty of time before she and Roy arrived home. It wasn’t yet four and being it was Friday, Poor Richards would be their first stop anyway. Often it was Roy’s last on the days she couldn’t convince him to leave for dinner or that they should be spending the time together, just the two of them, and not surrounded by his warehouse buddies at a crowded bar. If memory served her, they stayed quite a while there tonight as the guys he worked with were regaling them with rounds to celebrate their engagement, as if she hadn’t been his fiancée for three years. 

The longer it was with no sign of Michael, the more distressed Pam became that he was lost trying to make his way back to her house or that perhaps he’d completely forgotten her altogether and she didn’t know what to do. 

She couldn’t call him.  

Even though his cell phone had been in his pocket when the Time Turner hurdled them back to yesterday and therefore had traveled into this dimension with him, she wasn’t sure which of his phones would ring if she were to dial his number. Both of them, she had to assume and well that would certainly cause some additional problems. 

Plus, Michael in stereo, yikes, she didn't think she could handle that. 

No, she’d already opened a can of worms with her interaction with Janet and even being here in the house making slight changes to the way things were when they’d left this morning was concerning. Not that she thought Roy would notice anything gone or moved, but she might. She didn’t want to risk any other potential complications. 

All she could do was wait and grow more anxious and annoyed as she did. When at long last the Honda pulled back into her driveway, she raced out of the house to meet him before he could do something stupid like lean on the horn which would surely send a curious Aunt Janet to her window to see who was honking for Pam who should have been long gone by now.  

Throwing her back in the bag seat before she joined him in the front, she began to berate him for being so late. 

“Michael, where were you? Has time travel made you forget how time actually works? We said two hours, not four and a half.” 

Michael turned to explain but Pam yelled at him to drive, insisting he first get off her street before he spoke a single word of whatever ridiculous explanation she knew was coming. 

As soon as they turned the corner, he drove to the side of the road and pulled something out from his pocket. 

“Okay Pam, first you’re going to want to start being nicer to me when you find out where I’ve been.” 

Crumbled in his hand was a small slip of paper with a series of numbers printed in dot matrix type print. She recognized the ticket having seen it a few times on Kevin’s desk scattered among his mess of papers and business receipts. At the top was the green icon she identified clearly as the Pennsylvania Lottery logo. 

“Michael what’s wrong with you? You were two hours late to get this?” 

“Yeah, it did. I mean, I was. I had to find a place that had the winning numbers printed outs.”  

Pam crossed her arms and stared at him with the same stern look she always did when he made up some outlandish tale that she didn’t buy for even a second. She’d fallen for his jokes, excuses and false tales a few times in the past but ever since his ‘fake firing’ she learned to doubt first and perfected the parental look that usually brought out the real version of his stories. 

In typical Michael fashion, he lowered his head and turned his eyes away as he admitted the truth.  

“Well no, getting this only took about forty minutes. But I had to stop at three different stores to find one that had the printed winner sheets and well then I was so far off the route that it messed up my bearings and I kinda got lost trying to find my way back to your house.” 

That she could buy. In fact, it was exactly what she thought had happened as she sat waiting on him. Knowing it for certain helped to lesson her annoyance but not her confusion. 

“But hey sue me. But you won’t need to because we are both going to be millionaires.” 

When she suddenly realized what was going through his head, she silently shook her own, closed her eyes and let it fall into her hands before she calmly spoke. 

“Oh, Michael,” she sighed. “Time travel has made you forget how time works.” 

Now it was his turn to look confused. 

“What do you plan to do with these numbers?” 

“Play them of course, once we travel back.” 

“Michael, think about it, when we go back, we are going into the future again. We’ll have no more knowledge of what’s going to happen after we go back then we do now. Including what lottery numbers are going to be drawn.” 

“No, but I have them right here. See this is the list of the winning numbers. The official list. I didn’t trust myself to write them down, that’s why I went all over to get the print-out. Not every store has them, you know. So, when we get back, we play these numbers and then sit back and collect our millions.” 

“No, Michael,” Pam sighed as she looked dolefully at him.  “You have last night’s winning numbers. We are going forward.” 

“No, we’ll be going back, right in two weeks. You keep saying we’ll go back.” 

“Yes, back to the time we left from, in the future.” 

“Ah, um okay,” he hummed, pretending to understand, but as his eyes danced to the corners and a row of lines splintered across his forehead, she knew he was still trying to work it all out.   

Pam figured he would get it eventually. He was oblivious sometimes but not stupid. He’d have to realize the numbers he’d wanted to take back with him would be meaningless, in fact already were. 

But she thought about it, for a second doubting her own logic as she grappled to figure out if she was the one who had it wrong; if there was some chance he had it right and she was the one confused. The more she pondered about their situation, the more she began to think, what if he was onto something? He still had the Time Turner right, and they learned the things they had in their possession when they made the trip back did in fact travel with them.  

Did that mean they could use the Time Turner to go back even further and take along the winning numbers that Michael had slipped back into his pocket, apparently yet unable to work out why they were useless?  

She turned to look at him again. His brow was no less wrinkled, his lips were still pursed, his face displaying the same incomprehension it did when he looked over the quarterly P&Ls Oscar had him review and sign before submitting to corporate.   

But while his sported a familiar dazed expression, Pam’s lit up like a Christmas tree as her mind began to dance with the possibilities.  

The wedding she could have without limitations on the cost of the venue, the length of the guest list or the expense of her dream gown. Then, following a reception she could only fanticize about in her current financial situation, they could honeymoon in Paris, that is if she could convince Roy it made for the more romantic, post-nuptial getaway over Hawaii. Somehow, she didn’t think that dinner atop the Eiffel Tower, hours touring the Louvre and strolls along the Champs-Élysées were quite his idea of a good time. But Hawaii could be amazing, too. Not as much art or European culture to soak in, but luaus, snorkeling with sea turtles and relaxing on the beach, she could get on board with that.    

But hey, they’d be millionaires, they could take two honeymoons, one for her and one for him. Then after their month of travel she could give up her job as the Dunder Mifflin receptionist and spend her time painting using all the inspiration she’d have soaked up while abroad and in the islands.  

But that would mean she wouldn’t get to see Jim anymore and even thinking about that made her kind of sad. But with her winnings, he wouldn’t have to be stuck at Dunder Mifflin either. She could hire him to be an agent for her or a coach, of what she wasn’t sure, but she could come up with something. 

But would it be weird to employ her best friend to do some bogus job just to keep him close? Jim, while not devoted to paper, might still be a bit too proud let her hire him with some creative title and made-up work description.  

Plus, it might make Roy uncomfortable to see them together on a daily basis.  

The more she thought about it, the more she realized the whole idea of their second selves going further back in time was not just chancy but downright dangerous, especially since it meant there would be three Michael Scotts running around instead of just two and she was pretty sure no amount of money was worth that risk. 

“Ohhhhhh.” 

The sound of Michael figuring it out at last broke Pam from her thoughts, just about the same time she was giving up on her own dreams of becoming a millionaire too. 

It was just as well. She’d heard time and time again how money couldn’t buy happiness. It’s a Wonderful Life, the holiday movie she’d just watched another at least four times over the recent Christmas break demonstrated that in its perfect magical way. 

She could be happy without a big fancy wedding or an exotic honeymoon as long as long as she had a husband she loved, Roy. And as she recalled from the movie, there was another lesson to be learned from Clarence, something about the importance of friends, the exact wording of the quote he left written in the book she didn’t quite remember, but whatever they were, it made her think of the friendship she had with Jim. 

What they shared was a special closeness, a bond that filled the gaps of what she sometimes felt missing in her romantic relationship. One where she felt comfortable sharing secrets she couldn’t even tell Roy. One where they spent most of their time together smiling and laughing but even when something chased her smile away, Jim was the one who she could rely on to listen and help and bring it back. He was her best friend and she hoped always would be. Their friendship was too important to risk ruining for anything. She knew it wasn’t just her commitment to Roy that kept her from ever entertaining thoughts of anything more with him. It was fear of potentially jeopardizing the closeness they shared. The same reason why she tried not to read much into his attentiveness and devotion.  

But now, knowing what she could no longer deny he felt was weighing on her, the knowledge of his feelings throwing everything in her world out of whack. It was a very good thing she had a few weeks yet to reconcile it all before she would have to see him again.  

By now Michael had driven off, after he too had accepted he wouldn’t be winning anything upon their return to the present. But because Pam’s internal distraction lasted just a bit longer than his confusion, he would up taking a left where he should have taken a right.  

Turns out it was just as well for Pam knew of a strip mall on the next block with a large liquor store and a florist. She had been thinking to tell Michael to stop off somewhere so they could pick up some gifts to bring back to Randall and Gabby. It was the least they could do for taking them in and being so welcoming. 

With this wrong turn they found themselves in a place where she could get both the things she had been thinking of. 

--- 

Shopping for wine with Michael was something of an experience as he picked up bottles and butchered their names while they walked around the store trying to agree on what to buy. After she nixed the White Zinfandel on special at the front that he claimed was his favorite, and probably was judging from what he knew of wine, she pushed him towards the reds, where a sampling table had a bottle of Chateau des Jacques being poured for patrons to try. 

Michael of course, pretended to be an expert on the subject and began using words like vintage and bouquet, and after he picked up a sample and swirled it around in the plastic cup he gulped it down in one swig. But the longer he interacted with the store sommelier, the more he only made a fool of himself, his ignorance apparent when he proved to know nothing about wine including how to pronounce, Beaujolais.  

Where the brand being served at the sampling station might have been a good choice, she was so embarrassed by her boss, that she marched him into the next aisle where he beelined to a straw-wrapped, wide-bottomed bottle, the kind she hadn’t seen in years except for as the candle holder in the Lady and the Tramp, Disney cartoon she watched with Roy’s niece when they spend the holidays with his family.  

“Oooh, Chee-antie,” he cooed. “I bet they’d love this. It’s a classic.” 

Pam shook her head and he set the bottle back down following her walk further down the aisle. 

The next one he picked up was a magnum-sized Sutter Home Cab. 

“How about this one?”  

He struggled to articulate another grape variety, properly leaving off the silent ‘t’ in Cabernet, but when it came to the Sauvignon, it was so far off she had examine the bottle to see what was written on it. 

“It’s twice the wine at half the price.” 

Pam took the giant bottle away from him and telling him no, set it back on the shelf. 

“Our hosts are Randall and Gabby, not Meredith. We’re looking for a gift to say thank you for having us, not we’re here to party til we puke. How about this?” 

She held up a Pinot that she’d enjoyed once before and fell just within the price range she thought was appropriate. 

“Holy canoli. $28 dollars. With tax that will be over $30. The Zinfandel they had up front was only $9. What makes this so much better?” 

Convincing Michael the Pinot was the right choice was not easy but he did eventually give in, that is until he learned she expected him to pay too. 

“The wine is your idea. Why do I need to pay for it?” 

Pam hadn’t told him about the money she gathered from her house. It wasn’t that much anyhow, fifty dollars borrowed from the go-bag, the cash pilfered from Roy’s jeans and some singles she’d left in her evening bag the last time she had occasion to use it. All totaled she had $77 and that had to last her two weeks. 

Besides, Michael had a credit card where all she had was the small amount of cash, a lone key and an old empty purse she thought to grab as she gathered her things. She could pay him back for the purchases when the bill came in next month and her access to her ATM card and bank account were restored. Besides, their homeless status was all his fault, so why shouldn’t he pick up the tab on the gifts for the patrons who took them in? 

She was feeling a lot like a fugitive, or maybe a ghost, without a license, credit card or anything that proved who she was. It was weird to be so anonymous, a nobody with an old, empty purse filled with only a Chapstick and a wad of cash held together by a rubber band. 

She hadn’t thought to take her passport or her checkbook until they were miles from her house but she at least had the spare key. On Monday, maybe Michael could take her back home again to retrieve them. For the weekend she would have to remain a ghost. 

It could be worse, she thought to herself as they waited on the line, having explained to him she had no means to pay, feeling only slightly less guilty lying to him than Janet. 

It wasn’t even a full day yet that they’d been back in time and the lies were piling up along with the potential problems from their being here. On top of that were things she had discovered that she wished she didn’t know, and the things she couldn’t help but worry about while they had another two weeks to hang about in the past, the least of which was how she was going to live on $77 for that time.  

At any rate she had Michael with her. Michael of whom she was both envious and grateful because he still had his keys, wallet, and identity. They were all in his pockets upon their crossing over. 

Crossing over, was that what happened to her? It sure felt like her demise when she experienced the crushing ache in her body, flashing images before her eyes and mind-bending dizziness as she was hurled through time. 

Could it be that is what actually occurred?  

She wasn’t time traveling but instead had died and this was her afterlife or rather her purgatory, being stuck here with Michael. That she could not fully move on to heaven because something was not exactly right when the explosion or heart attack or her otherwise unexplainable death occurred and she would need to fix something here on earth before she did? 

Again, thoughts of the holiday movie came to her. Could Michael be the one sent to help set things right before she either awoke from her coma or went on to her afterlife? Figures she would get Michael as her guardian angel but even in the film, the simple-minded and bumbling but golden-hearted, innocent Clarence got the job done, with a little assistance from Joseph. 

Could Randall be the Joseph helping Michael? Why else would he ever have agreed to let Michael Scott be a guest in his home? 

But whether she was in fact a spirit, a lost soul or she had simply fallen into a wormhole of time, her current train of thought was way too heavy to be having on line at the liquor superstore so she turned her reflections to the more mundane like how she had no pockets when whatever it was that happened to her or them took place. 

It had always been her opinion that women’s clothes should have pockets; that it was some conspiracy of the fashion industry that ladies’ apparel had a lack of places to keep their belongings and even when they did have small compartments, they were often too shallow to keep anything more than a lipstick. Women, most of the time had way more to carry than men and on top of having more expensive clothes to begin with, had limited options that contained any useful pockets so were also burdened with the added expense of a purse just to keep their extra necessities on them. And then when you needed said purse, it was tucked under your desk instead of with you in Michael’s office when you do the unimaginable— take an unplanned journey through time with your boss. 

It was all the more reason why she felt justified in sticking Michael with the bill for the wine. 

--- 

“Everyone seems so excited we set the date. My phone was ringing all day. I heard from both your sisters, Aunt Sue, Aunt Jenny and most of the cousins.” 

Roy didn’t answer except to mumble yeah as he peeled out of the parking lot. Between the phone calls that kept her from her faxing until late in the day and the Friday night time cards that Michael hadn’t signed until after five-thirty, it was almost six before she made it downstairs to where he was waiting in the truck. She knew he was annoyed since happy hour was only until seven. She chose to ignore his bad mood and kept on talking to him, hoping to bring back some of the excitement from last night by bringing up his family and the wedding. 

“I was kind of surprised that Aunt Janet didn’t call though. I would think she’d be the first one after your mother.” 

“Yeah normally, but why would she call you to congratulate you again when she already did when you went by the house to get your bag?” 

Pam fingered her purse as she wondered what he was referring to.  

“Get my bag?” she questioned silently to herself. 

What on earth was he talking about? Had happy hour started with a few beers in the warehouse?  Was he not fit to be behind the wheel?  He often didn’t recognize when he was too impaired to be driving and she had to insist on taking his keys.   

“Oh, and what kind of errands does Michael have you running on with him? You know I don’t think you should be in the car with him, I’ve seen how he drives…” 

Under her breath, despite still not knowing what the hell Roy was talking about, she mumbled to herself. 

“Yeah, well at least he doesn’t get behind the wheel when he’s downed a few…” 

“ROY, LOOK OUT!” 

Roy immediately swerved his pick-up out of the way of the SUV that had meandered into his path, all while leaning heavy on his horn. Roy hadn’t noticed the automotive interloper until he was within a fraction of an inch from crashing with them, but veered quick enough to avoid a collision.   

He must not have started his night early after all. No way he could react that fast unless he was sober.  

The other driver apparently had not been looking before making his lane change, perhaps he too was in a rush to get to half price drinks at the bar or was coming from a happy hour himself. Except when she looked back at the other motorist, who once he realized his mistake pulled back to his own lane, he seemed alert and was waving in apology. 

But Roy was busy flipping off the remorseful middle-aged man, cursing at him through Pam’s open window which he rolled down in anger. 

Pam’s first reaction was to shrink back in her seat, mortified and slightly scared at his unreasonable road rage. Clearly, it was an honest error on the other driver’s part, one he acknowledged, but that didn’t seem to make Roy any less infuriated.  

“Relax Roy,” she tried to calm him. “It was a misjudgment. He knows. You don’t have to get nuts.” 

“Get nuts,” he screamed back, now at her.  “He almost hit us. Did you know the kind of front-end damage he could have caused if I hadn’t been able to get over?” 

“But you did so no harm actually happened. Come on, we’re late for happy hour.” 

Yeah, and whose fault is that?” he bellowed. 

“Come on Roy, he’s already waved an apology so why not leave it alone now?” 

He didn’t. 

“I have a good mind to run him of the road with his fancy Range Rover.” 

With that he pulled up behind the other driver and rode his tail, still cursing at him from behind, which seemed to make the man drive slower until Roy tore out from behind him and now passing him on the other side began to roar through his own open window. The other driver, no longer passively apologetic, had become enraged himself and was yelling back.  

A little scared of the escalation, Pam begged Roy to settle down but this only seemed to fuel him up. Luckily, the other driver finally backed off and turned at the next intersection. Pam had to wonder if it was his regular route or he’d come to his senses enough to not want to get any further into with the burly, 6’ 4”, hothead she was driving with. 

Roy having not yet cooled down when they arrived at Poor Richards, slammed the door violently behind him as departed the truck. Pam let him go into the bar alone. Try as she did to not be rattled by what she just witnessed, she couldn’t stop from wrenching her hands together or prevent the lone tear that hovered precariously on her lashes before spilling down her cheek. A few deep breaths and minutes later she exited too. By the time she’d joined him in the bar, she’d all but forgotten the strange exchange about her mysterious errands with Michael, missed calls with Aunt Janet and her purse. All she could think of now was how his uncontrollable rage would definitely get him into trouble one day.