Michael’s three strikes didn’t take long.

By some small miracle it wasn’t until late Friday that the first infraction occurred. But it was more due to the fact they didn’t get back to the Stewart home until after dusk than it being the result of any self-restraint on his part.

Despite the late hour, Gabby smiled warmly as she welcomed them back into her home.

“I was expecting you sooner. I thought you were just going to pick up a few of your belongings and head right back.”

From within the apartment, the accented voice of a heartbroken man could be heard coming from the television, underlined by a melancholy music that filled the room becoming louder when the on-screen dialogue stopped.

When next, the sad song shifted to a twangy country tune and Pam recognized the female voice speaking, it clued her in to just what show Gabby had been watching while waiting on them.

“Oh, I hope we didn’t keep you from anything,” Pam replied with worry. Opening her home to two wayward travelers was beyond kind and generous, especially when their trip was even more strange than the one playing out on her television and more akin to an episode of the Twilight Zone. Pam’s intent was for them to be nothing but the most gracious and considerate guests. Keeping their host waiting for them all afternoon certainly did not start them off on the right foot.

“Oh, not at all. I ran out on a few errands this morning but I had no other plans, except catching up on some of my shows.”

“We were planning to be back sooner…” Pam threw an accusatory look to Michael before she continued, “but we got delayed.”

Presenting the small floral bouquet in her free hand she added, “and we made a few stops.”

Gabby held the flowers to her nose taking in their scent.

“Fresh flowers, mmmm, and these are beautiful and so fragrant. Thank you.”

Pam smiled shyly in response as Gabby stepped aside to let them through the doorway. With her right hand now free, she swapped the slender gift bag from her other one to it and adjusted the small, shabby duffle of her clothes and essentials that rested on her shoulder before she walked through.  Behind her Michael followed, dragging a large wheeled suitcase.

Not aware of the giant case until he took it from the car’s trunk when they arrived at the apartment complex, Pam winced as he pulled it out. They had been gone so long it was way too late to make Michael head back to his place to swap it out for something smaller. She regretted not giving him more detailed instructions on what he should and shouldn’t bring, but at least he didn’t take the George Foreman grill. At least she hoped he didn’t. Who knew what was packed in the oversized luggage?

In his other hand was a present of donuts which he insisted would be a better gift than flowers or wine. Since he was driving, and paying, she had no choice but to let him make one more out-of-the-way stop to pick them up.  

“We brought donuts,” he sang as he extended the pink and orange box with a proud smile on his face.

Pam put down her overnight bag and handed off the tote containing the wine.

“Oh, and this, too.”

“Well, how considerate of you.”

Gabby set down the box on a console table inattentively, without first taking a glance of the assortment of flavors inside. She did however, delicately lift the neck of the bottle to take a peek at it, her kind eyes returning to Pam after she read the label.

“This will go well with the dinner I was planning. Thank you. That was very sweet.”

Interrupted by a deliberately executed constriction of his laryngopharynx, Gabby turned back to Michael who sounded like an old man coughing up a lung.

Pam, wearing a measured stare, turned to him too.

“You okay, Michael?” Gabby asked.

On his face was a pained expression Pam had seen before many, many times. Spread across his lips was the tension of holding back. His bulging cheeks were filled with the air of his desperation to keep from blurting out what he wanted to share. Pam knew he was losing the battle, had lost already.

Practically spitting all over their host as the pronouncement escaped from his taut mouth, Michael blurted, “Pam has no money. I paid for all of it. So, it was her idea, but my gift to you. Except the donuts, that was all me, soap to do-nuts.”

Pam could swear Gabby was channeling her friend as she pulled her lips together and lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise. Her expression was the embodiment of Jim as she flashed Pam the same exact look he always had for the camera when Michael did or said something ridiculously wrong. But it erased from her face so fast, Pam wasn’t sure if it was real or what she witnessed on Gabby was just a manifestation of what she’d come to expect from Jim in such events.

Directing her gaze back to Michael while adjusting her tone to the somewhat higher pitch and slow tempo used in speaking to a child, Gabby addressed him as if he was.

“Well then, thank you too Michael. It’s all so very thoughtful.”

The three retreated deeper into the main room, when suddenly the blare of a warning signal rang through it, the blast repeating itself over and over, increasing in intensity until Gabby grabbed the remote that sat on the end table and with a few clicks stopped the program playing and shut off the television.

Had she been even a tad uncertain before what Gabby had been watching, Pam was indisputably sure now and knew exactly where in the show’s timeline Gabby was.

If she hadn’t seen the episode a month earlier, the reverberation of the booming alarm, amplified due to the surround sound speaker system that it played through, might have caused her to panic just like Michael, who in jumping back almost knocked down the box of donuts that were sitting precariously on the table behind him.

“Relax Michael it was just the TV,” Pam assured him while pulling him away from the table. Grabbing the box she asked Gabby, “Shall I put these in the kitchen?”  

“Thank you, Pam, I’ve got them,” she said as she placed down the remote and took the donuts back from her.

From there she led them back to the office which doubly served as their temporary room, leaving them to deposit their belongings while she returned to the kitchen to drop off the wine and donuts and set the flowers in a vase.

Back by the dining room table, the three joined up again after a few minutes. Gabby was just setting down the colorful arrangement on the table.

“So, I’m going to start prepping for dinner. I thought I’d make pasta and chicken. It will be nice to have some company for a change. It’s been a long time since I’ve made a meal for more than just for Randall and myself. But you two should make yourselves at home.”

Pam knew she couldn’t allow Gabby to make dinner for them while they just sat around and relaxed. It was something that annoyed the crap out of her whenever Roy lounged in their den while she cooked for them both, which was pretty much all the time. As a guest, she had to at least offer to keep her host company, if not help with preparing the meal.

 She was about to volunteer her assistance when Michael beat her to it.

“Would you like some help?”

Truth be told, she was only slightly surprised. She knew Michael was often clueless but she also recognized that deep down he had a kindness to him and would always try to do the right thing, even if his attempt at the right thing sometimes ended up being a disaster.

“I’d love to help, too.” Pam added, hoping Gabby knew her offer was no less forthcoming despite her Michael’s beating her to the punch in extending it.

“It’s so nice of both you to offer but as you can see my kitchen area is a little tight. And I’m not sure how much there is for all three of us do.  How about Pam helps with the cooking and Michael you can assist Randall with the clean up after.”

The gloomy look on his face gave away what he thought of her distribution of duties but Pam knew him well enough to know it was something more than just a dislike of rinsing dishes.

“What is it, Michael?”

“I was hoping to get started on my culinary lessons. Gabby was a teacher so she’s bound to be excellent at instruction and from the size of Randall’s belly, she must be a good cook too.”

Pam tensed up as she was pretty sure his comment was going to count as his first strike, but seeing Gabby chuckling, she relaxed her shoulders again and let out the breath she’d been holding since it came from his mouth.

“Well Michael, I taught fourth graders reading, writing, and arithmetic so if you really want to learn how to cook, you’re better off watching Food Network.”

Gabby clearly knew who she was dealing with. Whether it was due to a warning from her husband or just plain intuition from her years as an educator, she knew enough to get him out of their hair while they worked, and he was sent off to watch television until Randall got home and dinner was ready.

Pam felt like a schoolgirl herself, having been chosen to assist her teacher. She was also looking forward to spending the time alone with Gabby as they made dinner. She often helped her mom over the holidays and while they busied themselves in the kitchen, they always had their best chats. Unlike Michael, Roy never offered his help even at her parents’ house, and as it would have it, neither did her sister Penny, so it was always an intimate affair where the cooking and conversation seems to mix naturally.

She felt similarly at ease with Gabby, relaxed in an unexplainable but comforting way, and looked forward to chatting with her as they cooked. Having the additional company of her often-juvenile boss would absolutely counteract that calm and hinder the process and the girl talk.

As Michael made his exit, Pam asked what she could do and was directed to grab the eggs from refrigerator while Gabby busied herself collecting some ingredients from the pantry. With both women engaged with tasks, they both also missed seeing Michael pitstop at the far counter before he left them to relax on the alabaster sofa.

He was gone less than five minutes when he called out from the living space off to the side of the open kitchen.

“Hey, you have one of those TiVo machines.”

The comment about her husband’s size may not have rattled her but this one seemed to, so much so that she promptly set down the pasta and jar of sauce she was holding and rushed to where his voice carried from.  

“That is off limits to you. You hear? Don’t touch it.”

She managed to stay composed but spoke sternly as she hurried over from the kitchen to the sofa. Pam trailed her, anxious about his fascination with the machine that could no doubt get him into trouble. Michael’s technology track record was spotty. On the one hand, he could program his computer to mass distribute his dirty jokes by email, on the other he often misdirected private emails from Jan and corporate to the same extensive list. Not to mention, it was Pam who always had to set up the equipment for Movie Mondays at the office since he couldn’t figure out how to switch the source input to get to the DVD player.

To her initial relief, neither the TiVo remote or the one for the television were in his hand when they arrived. Instead, they found him stretched out on the pure white couch eating a gooey chocolate covered donut.

Calmly but firmly, Gabby reprimanded him, Pam presumed in the same way she might talk to her own children or the 4th graders she used to teach.

“Michael, if we didn’t want you sleeping there, what made you think eating a chocolate donut on it would be, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll still be hungry for dinner.”

Remarkably she still kept her voice cool and collected as she answered him back. Pam admired her patience. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but admired it all the same.

 “Young man,” she began, scolding him like a child and not a grown man who was only about 12 or 13 years her junior.

“This is not about your appetite. It’s about my couch. Go finish that donut at the table and then you can wash your hands. Then and only then can you return to the couch.”

With his head down in shame, Michael made his way to the table grumbling about the obscured view of the flat screen.

“Oh, and that was your strike one.”

Michael didn’t say another word.

Once back in the kitchen, Pam apologized for not catching him upon his leave with the donut.

“Not your fault. Kids can be sneaky when they know they are doing something they shouldn’t. You learn to spot it once you are a parent.”

“But Michael’s not a kid,” she responded, despite regarding him as an overgrown child so much of the time.

“Isn’t he though? I’ve heard plenty from Randall. But don’t worry, I missed this one too.”

“Yeah, but I was watching him. At least I thought I was.”

“Well hon, let that be a lesson for when you have kids of your own.”

She paused and turned to Pam, the focus on the green eyes she stared into, piercing and deliberate.

“You can’t always see what’s right in front of you.”

“Noted,” Pam responded, appreciative for the advice about caring for children. She knew she had a lot to learn on the subject, never feeling all that comfortable around Roy’s niece, or any kids for that matter. But now that she was one step closer to having one of her own, she knew it was time to get better.

But there was something about the way Gabby spoke to her, as if she knew about Pam’s insecurities. Or could it be her that her insecurities were making her think the exchange was something more than simply an experienced parent, and schoolteacher at that, imparting her wisdom on the younger generation?

It had Pam wondering where Gabby had taught when she did. The older woman looking into her eyes could have been one of the teachers when Pam went to Valley View elementary although Pam was positive she hadn’t been hers. She specifically remembered who she had for 4th grade; Mrs. Hardcastle, who was old as dirt and mean as a devil. She would have very much preferred to have Gabby, or Mrs. Stewart as she would have called her back then.

As they got back to cooking and more casual chatting, Pam, in asking Gabby what school she had worked at, learned she and Randall weren’t from around Scranton. In fact, they were not even from Pennsylvania, having moved from New York when Randall landed the opportunity to work on the documentary. Their real home was an hour north of the city and was currently being rented out while they temporarily relocated to their current apartment as it would be too far to commute every day to where his job was.

Gabby shared how they decided not to buy something new right away, instead were waiting to see how long the gig lasted.

It explained the mysterious door past the bathroom that Pam learned was a third but uninhabitable bedroom, crammed wall to wall with boxes and precious possessions they’d had to remove from the house so the couple who now lived there could fill it with their own memories.

“So how do you like it here in Scranton?” Pam asked of her.

“Oh, it’s been okay. All my family and friends are back in New York so of course I miss them. It’s a bit hard to meet new people at my age, but I’ve made a few and I go back to New York about once a week.”

It dawned on her why Gabby seemed happy to be putting her and Michael up. It must have been lonely for her during the hours Randall was busy filming at the office. The staff hours might have been nine to five, but most people except maybe Stanley were often there late and the crew were always still there when she left, and often were there before she arrived too. On top of that with the many extracurricular events they’d been holding more recently she imagined Gabby must have been alone quite a bit, well into the night sometimes.

“But to me it was more important that Randall have the chance to work on this project. It’s his passion, and being part of a groundbreaking and life-altering project like this is a long-time ambition.”

Pam didn’t exactly think of what they were filming as groundbreaking or life-altering. It was a documentary about a paper company.  Pretty basic stuff if you asked her, but then again, she wasn’t a television exec or documentarian, so what did she know.

“Early on he sacrificed a lot for me, me and our family so now I am just so thrilled for him that I’d live in Antarctica if that’s where the job took us.”

Pam stopped cutting the pepper she had been slicing for the salad to give Gabby her full attention as the wife of the man she saw every day, but knew little about, gave her a some more insight on him and the relationship they shared.

“When we met, he had not too long ago graduated from NYU film school and was doing quite well landing jobs as a second AC.”

“What’s that?” Pam asked, knowing very little of what went into film and television production. It was only when the crew began filming them at Dunder Mifflin she even learned about half the stuff that went into making a tv show, even one that was meant to be a portrait of real life.

For example, she had no idea what a boom mic was and she still found it a little strange that they needed Brian to follow them around with that very heavy looking equipment to capture their audio, especially when they all were required to wear those annoying mic packs. 

“Oh, they basically move the camera equipment, operate the clapboard between takes, and do a bunch of other stuff to help the DP and operators.”

DP, she knew that one. She’d heard the term a lot when the crew first came around but had also heard Jim say it often when he was talking game stats with Kevin and Ryan. Roy must have used the abbreviation too; he was not as much a baseball fan as football but still watched the games and discussed them almost as much. But since she had long ago learned to tune him out whenever sports came up as a topic of conversation, she only remembered hearing it spoken from Jim. Besides she would never dare to ask him what had her curious, knowing he would make her feel stupid as he explained.

Finally, though tired of being confused she worked up the courage to ask Jim what the documentary had to do with baseball. After he got over his bewilderment at her question and then recovered from his joyful little fit of laughter, he assured her it was an easy mistake and clarified when he used it, he was referring to a double play but when the crew referred to it, it meant Director of Photography. Even just the memory of the interaction brought a flush to her cheeks she hoped Gabby didn’t notice.

She didn’t.

She seemed too swept away talking about the early days with the man she was obviously devoted to, her attention lost to both her tale and the task of breading the chicken.

“Not very glamorous stuff but a foot in the door. By the time we were getting married he’d managed to move on to B camera operator and during the early part of our marriage, he found steady work on a local production. But once the kids came along, the hours and travel weren’t exactly conducive to family life and so he took a hiatus and a job at an office. He spent a long time pretending to be a business man.”

She motioned for Pam to fill up the pot near the sink while she transferred the plate of crumb-coated poultry to the counter next to the stove. Waiting for Pam to meet her there she only continued after Pam set down the heavy cookware.

“But after a few years when I knew he was unhappy selling ad space, I told him I couldn’t watch him give up on his dreams and sent him back to camerawork. Oh, don’t forget the salt.”

Pam grabbed the shaker and gave it a couple of shakes.

“He’d fallen a little behind in the industry in the years he worked as a salesman and had to start all over again. It was a struggle at first, both financially and for him being back at the bottom at his age, but he still seemed happier at his job than the years working as an executive. So much so that when he wanted to give it up a second time, I wouldn’t let him. I took up tutoring to make up for the shortfall in his salary and made sure in his non-working hours he got to spend quality time with the kids. And of course, I got creative with our date nights. Instead of fancy dinners, we had moonlight picnics in our backyard so we didn’t need a babysitter. All the while, I kept on assuring him and letting him know how much I believed in him and that he would be a DP himself soon enough.”

“And did he, become a DP?”

“Yes, on a number of things. He does quite well now but most of the stuff he’s been on was pretty boilerplate to him. He did a lot of commercials, became quite known for that. But this was something different, this documentary he’s on now with your office, it’s something that really excited him in a way I hadn’t seen in a while so I told him he should go for it with no hesitation.”

“Wow, he’s lucky to have you. It sounds like you sacrificed a lot for him.”

Gabby stopped what she was doing and looked straight at Pam, the dreamy smile on her face illustrating her profound pride and intense love for the man she married and raised a family with. 

“No, I never considered it a sacrifice. It was just part of being in a healthy and loving relationship. When you love someone, you support their dreams and the things that make them happy and fulfilled. And you find the compromises so you both can be.”

---

Pam wasn’t in the room when strike two occurred, but she heard two versions of what happened, one each from Randall and Michael. Seems teasing about her husband’s size was okay, but comments about her children’s ‘awkward’ phase and turning down their photos on the desk and tables in the makeshift guest room was not.

Michael tried to explain his actions to Pam, claiming he left the adorable baby photos faced right because babies and little kids were always cute, but everyone, even Hilary Swank and Brad Pitt turned gawky and weird-looking in adolescence. He’d said this to Gabby, adding he was sure they’d grown out of their teenage uglies when he told her that photos of what they looked like now would be better to put on display where her guests slept.

Cringing as he mounted his poor defense, the way he himself described what he’d said and done was far worse than the account she heard from Randall, she took the tone with him she’d learned from Gabby, calm but direct.

“I really don’t want to sleep at the office and being you are on very thin ice with Gabby, you are going to have to try a lot harder not to do or say anything to offend her or Randall for that matter.”

She knew she was going to have to keep a better eye on him too. No more allowing him to be alone even for a minute.

But it was already too late.

The final nail in the coffin had unknowingly been struck while Pam had left him on his own to do some sketching when she was supposed to be babysitting while the Stewarts had their regularly scheduled Saturday night date, no longer held in the backyard but out a local restaurant. Of course, she wasn’t told she was in charge, but she put that responsibility on herself.

She had worried about him alone in the living area when she retreated to what was temporarily the guest room but as she couldn’t concentrate with COPS on in the background, the show Michael had to watch because it was the best thing on television that night, she decided it was worth the risk. With the surround sound setup, she had idiocy coming at her from all directions. She had enough of that at work, she didn’t need to see or hear more foolish behavior while she was on an accidental break from it. A break brought about by the person usually at the forefront of the all the insanity. She should have known she couldn’t escape it completely.

“Why not turn off the TV and read? There’s are shelves full of good books in the office, or I brought the Harry Potter. You can read about all about Hermione and Harry’s adventure in time.”

But Michael wasn’t in the mood for reading, not when the TV was his to control again. Once Randall arrived home Friday night, Michael had no say as to what played on the large living room television and was forced to watch lots of news programming and college basketball, neither of which he knew much about or cared for. Pam elbowed him hard when he asked Gabby if they had a TV in the bedroom which fortunately shut him up before he earned another strike but she knew he was agitated not getting to view what he wanted.

Not a fan of watching the foolhardy behavior of criminals, drug addicts or the police chases that the show he chose tonight featured, she retreated to the other room but she knew enough to leave the door open.

He was only a few feet away. The door to the office was ajar so she could hear him, but the sirens and screams were not attacking her from all sides. The donuts were gone. Between Michael and Randall, who wound up appreciating them as much as Michael said he would, they didn’t last long. He had been warned multiple times about eating anything at the couch. What other trouble could he get into?

They all found out Sunday evening, when their hosts went to catch up on the episodes of Lost they’d recorded on the fancy DVR machine.

When for the first time since they’d arrived, she heard Gabby raise her voice in anger, it was a wonder she’d kept her cool as long as she had, she knew immediately what had happened.

It was a shame, too. The little couch in reception would be a lot less comfortable than the fold-away bed she’d been sleeping on. However, it was not her future sleeping arrangements that made her sad, it was that she was so much starting to enjoy spending time with the Stewarts, particularly Gabby. But as she heard the woman screaming out, out, out, she knew the visit with Randall and his wife had come to its end.