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Author's Chapter Notes:

Despite being somewhat satisfied with this chapter's original draft when I returned back to layer and edit it, I felt a certain, for lack of a better term, ho-hummness to it. Perhaps, because I came back to it after drafting the climatic, Part III chapter close to the end. But in the interest of moving this story along and getting to that exciting back-end chapter I'm posting it as is. Otherwise, it may just break me. 

The city traffic was enough to keep Gabby focused on the crowded streets leaving Pam's mind to drift to her own romantic history and what was potentially becoming her own love triangle, one she would have to address after the two weeks Michael had inadvertently granted her to dwell on it.  

 

It wasn't until they were driving up Madison Avenue that she decided to focus instead on where she was now, traveling the streets of New York with its fancy stores and majestic buildings, and not let her guilt and confusion overshadow her enjoyment of the day.  

 

"What a beautiful church. That's not St. Patrick's Cathedral, is it?" 

 

A truck blocking the road kept them idled in front of what with its cloud-reaching spire and elaborate rose window, to Pam might have been the famous New York City church.  

 

"Oh no dear, St. Patrick's is further south in midtown and a lot larger and grander. This one is St. James Church. While it may not be as big or have quite as storied a history, you are right, it is very impressive and lovely in its own way with its understated elegance."

 

Pam only said a quiet, "yes, it is," in response, slightly embarrassed at her mistake and once again thinking of another James that she only just minutes ago finally managed to expel from her mind. 

 

Luckily, they had begun moving again and the view out her window offered an escape from the thoughts threatening to fill her head again. Losing herself studying fashions displayed in the windows of stores whose names she only recognized from reading The Devil Wears Prada, the occasional People magazine with its "Who Wore it Best" section or InStyle's "Look for Less" feature, she managed to keep her head free of anything else but where she was and the day ahead for the rest of the drive to the unremarkable building underneath which was an open-to-the-public garage.

 

As Gabby handed over the keys to the attendant, Pam surveyed the below ground lot and caught sight of the signs posting the daily rates. The cost of parking in a New York garage for the day was only slightly less than what she'd paid for the entire outfit she had on, including the boots she was thankful to have in light of the residual snow, slush and giant puddles she'd also viewed from the out of the car as they drove through the metropolitan streets.

 

Distracted by the shock at what the asterisks indicated, an additional 18.375% tax which was on top of the surcharge that large SUVs and trucks carried, she almost stepped into one such puddle as she exited the car. Roy hadn’t been exaggerating when he told her how much it would set them back driving the truck to the city. Even if they just picnicked in Central Park and took in all the free sights that New York had to offer it would make for a very expensive date, one that they really couldn't afford while saving for a wedding. Still, they couldn't afford those jet skis or even the Pocono trip and yet when it came to skiing, snow and water alike, the money spent didn't seem to be an issue.

 

Though thankful Gabby drove an Elantra and not an SUV, Pam still began tabulating how much today's excursion would set her back after contributing less than a fraction of her share, and what she might be able to save for food next week as she walked alongside Gabby up to the street. She only hoped the effects of the sodium from of a steady diet of Cup of Noodles would reverse themselves when she was back to a single timeline.  

 

But no matter how expensive the day would be she was thrilled to be there and knew it would be worth every penny. 

 

"… and so I feel it's worth it."

 

It was Gabby parroting back her thoughts that drew her from her inner monologue. But how did Gabby know what she'd been thinking? Had she spoken what she'd been rummaging around in her head out loud?

 

"…the doctors here, they're the best in the field for my condition, even if it means a bit more of an out-of-pocket expense and a trip to the city every few weeks."

 

Pam at that moment, realized she hadn't heard a word Gabby had said since they left the lot, her mind so consumed with money and food and potential high blood pressure. Too embarrassed to ask her to repeat herself, she once more quietly agreed as they stepped passed a tuxedo clad doorman and into the fancy 5th Avenue address. Once through the ornate entrance, Pam stood patiently by as Gabby checked in at the lobby desk, feeling a bit out of place in such an upscale building. 

 

Had they been the only two in the elevator, Pam may have worked up the courage to admit she hadn't heard her before and asked again as to the condition and reason for the visit, but just before the doors closed another couple walked in, stepping between her and Gabby and keeping them apart and unable to speak while they ascended up to the fifth-floor doctor's office.

 

"Well, they were quite rude," Gabby commented as they stepped out of the cab leaving the man and woman to continue rising to an upper floor, "stepping in between us like that. Who does that?"

 

Even angry, Gabby has a lightness about her that matched the ethereal feel of the lavish waiting room behind the door marked only by a gold plate identifying it as Suite 555. The wall behind the desk was similarly simple, with only the physicians' names, but nothing to identify what issues they treated, leaving Pam still in the dark as to what brought Gabby there every few weeks.  

 

Pam made her way to one of the plush chairs set around the waiting area as a woman dressed all in white at reception cheerfully greeted Gabby and let her know it would be just a minute until she would be called back. Although as inviting as a cloud, Pam hovered precariously on the edge of the chair, repelling the cushion like a magnet turned the wrong way around, too consumed with worry about Gabby to relax into the seat.

 

Gabby excused herself from the gate keeper, returning to a Pam whose stiff body and squinched up face gave away her fretfulness at having still not been able to ask about the reason for the visit.

 

"Is it serious, your condition? I'm sorry I must have missed what…"

 

Gabby stopped Pam with an interposing reply as she sat down in the neighboring, cloud-like chair.

 

"Oh, poor dear you look so concerned. It's nothing at all, just a slight deficiency that needs to be monitored. I promise, not worth that terrified look on your face. I'm just here for a quick check-up and then we can be on our way."

 

With her words, the wrinkles of worry that had been spread like arched inchworms across Pam's forehead settled just in time to hear the call from the nurse who stepped out from a door on the other side of the room.   

 

"Gabrielle, you can come on back."

 

The explanation, though not detailed, was enough for Pam to relax and ease into the back of the chair, which turned out to be as comfortable as it looked. She still had no idea the specialty of the office nor the conditions that were treated here but according to Gabby it was nothing she should worry about, which was a huge load off. There was little room left in her mind to add her new friend’s health to the myriad of weighty thoughts pulsing through her head since they came up from the parking lot.

 

As Gabby was whisked back to the examination room and she was left alone with only them for company, she tried to preoccupy herself by thumbing through one of the magazines on the side table. Picking up a Cosmopolitan, she of course opened it directly to a quiz entitled “Is He Your Soulmate.” Not exactly what she wanted to read in her state of flux, especially since she never once got the answer she wanted, not even when she embellished her answers with what she so often wished were her reality.  Rather than be disappointed again, she flipped to the “Healthy Hair Tips for Every Tress Type,” looking for some wisdom for taming her frizzy locks but found herself discouraged anyway finding the same useless advice that never seemed to work for her. 

 

Switching out the Cosmo for a Time Magazine, she was still unable to concentrate and not just because she wasn’t all that interested in reading about the year’s advances in medicine or the Manning brothers who she’d heard more than she cared to know about from Roy and even a fact or two from Jim. 

 

Another time she might be able to focus on any one of the highbrow topics in the news publication but today her mind kept wandering back to what she’d learned in the car about her new friend’s history and how romantic their story was. Almost like a fairy tale with a happy ending, except maybe that Charlie never did forgive them. 

That must have been a tough thing to bear. Pam knew how uncomfortable it made her when she thought someone didn’t like her. It was why she continued to be nice to Angela, not because she cared so much to have her as a friend but because she needed Angela to not dislike her, even if Pam didn’t even like her and hated feeling judged by her condescending looks and snarky comments. 

 

Hoping to find something interesting to read, she kept flipping pages and discovered way in the back, a single page in the “Your Time” section about modern marriages. It didn’t have much, some stuff about cake toppers and invitations but it got her thinking again about her upcoming wedding and how happy she was she would soon be getting married. 

 

It was twice now, she got to experience that feeling of being overjoyed when it happened, even though both times Roy had started the night by pissing her off, first by carrying on like he had in high school and being more excited about snorkel shots than being with her and then on her repeat version of the boat trip with his wandering eye and offensive behavior.

 

But she couldn’t deny what she felt when later when he picked a date, pure happiness and love.

 

As she often did, she once again told herself it was the waiting, the long engagement that had been causing all her doubts. 

 

It was that and then Jim’s confession and her discomfort at knowing his feelings and now hearing the tender love story of how Gabby and Randall came together that was making her think all not was as blissful as it should have been in the months leading up to the marriage she’d waited years for. 

 

Or could it be more than that?

 

Was it that there someone else better for her like there was for Gabby? A certain floppy-haired, salesman who like Roy, also loved sports, but unlike him, didn’t expect her to. Who expressed interest in her artistic nature and the more cultural things she liked to do? Who knew the Jets and Sharks were not just athletic teams, and that Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster and what horcruxes were? Who read something more than box scores and could appreciate and share an interest in art and culture. Who seemed to know when she needed a laugh to brighten up her day or a push to try something new or just a bag of French onion Sun Chips or a mixed berry yogurt because her stomach was calling out to him with its unnaturally loud afternoon grumbles?

 

Maybe, but could she risk what she knew she had for something she didn’t know where it could go?

 

Could she chance losing her best friend for a shot at more, even if it meant she might not have either in the end?

 

Could she have someone she did love, hate her for giving up on them just as he was finally able to truly commit?

 

Could she make a change, go back on her word, forget about the history with Roy and take the gamble that she could have a similar fairy tale ending too, taking a hard left when her whole life she always kept right?

 

She still had no answer when Gabby came back out with the question on her lips that allowed Pam to push away all her misgivings and just be excited about the rest of their day.

 

“Ready to visit with cupid?” 

 

 »»»»»»


As they walked from the doctor’s office towards the museum, Pam again thanked her companion for bringing her along and tried to hand her what little cash she had in her purse, holding a few dollars in reserve to buy a bag of chips or a yogurt at lunchtime.

“Put your money away. I invited you. This is on me.”

“But the parking was so expensive, and on top of that there’s the cost of the museum and the gas and tolls. What I’m offering I know is a fraction of my share, but I at least want to give you something.”

Again, Gabby waved her off.

“Pam, you're my guest today and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you are here with me. Your company is all the payment I need. And let me also say I’m thrilled to share this experience with a real artist.”

Reluctantly, but also thankfully, Pam closed her purse and they continued their walk along Fifth Avenue to the museum. She wasn't all that big a fan of ramen noodles and hadn't been looking forward to eating only them for the next week, especially with the extraordinary hunger she'd been experiencing since making the time jump.

A real artist, she wasn’t sure she could justifiably be called that. What she considered herself was a hobbyist, a dabbler, a dilettante. Maybe one day she could be more, but right now she was a receptionist who liked to draw and paint.

She did however, reflect on how maybe she was able to see things differently, finding art in nature and buildings and even the mundane. For instance the parade of city buses that drove along the block was beautiful in her eyes, all the ads that were plastered across it, to her like murals of colors and shapes where others might just see words and pictures. It was in this way of looking at things, she maybe could offer her friend some insights as they took in the works in the museum.

For Pam, there was art all around her already, the aesthetics of the city a masterpiece in itself to take in. She marveled at the subtle hues along the block, on one side a canvas of vanilla and ecru buildings flanked by emerald awnings and silver scaffolds, on the other, a carpet of snow covered much of the park, with charcoals, embers and more shades of sage and pine green extending up from the white blanket which suddenly reminded her of the part of the story she still hadn’t heard.

What about the white couch?” she asked with a child’s curiosity, the straightforward question a reminder Gabby never did get around to explaining about the sofa that she herself called impractical.

The soft wrinkles around Gabby’s eyelids deepened as her face broadened once again into a sentimental smile.

“You ever have a desire, a yen for something you saw or witnessed you knew you wanted immediately, and that stuck with you forever after?”

She did, she’d never spoken about it or even considered it much since she was little, but it was always there. However, she didn’t bring it up, thinking it was silly, only murmured her acknowledgment so Gabby could go on.

“Years later, after Graceland opened to the public, we took a family trip there. Walking up to the entrance the first time was like striding into heaven, the Corinthian columns that graced the doorway like pearly gates I was granted admittance through. Once inside, I saw it in person, the iconic living room, with the stained-glass windows that divided it from the adjoining music room. But what I was most taken with was the long, white couch that had been implanted in my memory from back when I saw it in a magazine. The image of my idol strumming his guitar while he leaned against the pillows of his ivory backdrop. I told Randall on that trip how I always dreamed of having one just like it after seeing the photo years ago.”

It seemed a strange thing for her to fixate on but who was Pam to judge, her dream was to have a terrace with flowers off her bedroom. 

“Of course, Randall being Randall promised when we could finally afford to buy a house, a pure white sofa would be the first piece of furniture we would purchase for inside of it.”

“How soon before you got your house and your couch?”

“The house, about a year and a half. The couch, well I knew it was insane to get a white couch with young kids, hell even with adults, as your boss demonstrated. Even once the kids were grown and off to college, I knew it was just a silly dream I once had so I didn’t ever bring it up again. But then Randall had the opportunity to work on your documentary and we moved to Scranton and you could imagine my surprise when I walked in to our new apartment to see he had gone out and bought me my white couch.”

“Wow, that is just so romantic. The only thing Roy ever surprised me with for no reason was a pair of jet skis that I never wanted in the first place.”

If Gabby had heard the last part of her response, she pretended not to or maybe she was as dumbfounded by the absurdity of it as Pam had been when he told her about the purchase.

“Yeah, it was. But I had long since decided owning a white couch was ridiculous, not ideal in real life and having one would not change mine for the better no matter how long I had dreamed of it. But how could I tell him that after that hugely romantic gesture? So now I own a couch that I have to worry about every time we sit on it.”

“Why not get rid of it?”

“What and break Randall’s heart after he went to all the trouble to get it for me?”

“But if it is no longer is what you want, why would you keep it?”

“That’s a good question, Pam. A really good question.”

««««««

For Pam, entering the museum was her own visit to Graceland, with parallel Corinthian columns flanking the doorway on the other side of which was Pam’s own heaven. The arrived just in time for their scheduled slot to see the Eros exhibit and made their way through the building to the hall where a multitude of cherubim were on display.

Gabby wasn’t kidding when she said she had a thing for cupid. She descended upon the winged statue that stood just inside the entrance as if greeting an old friend, spending quite a long time admiring the sleeping figure from every angle. It was her inspection of the cherub’s back where she seemed most impressed with the detail that went into carving the bronze deity. As sculpture wasn’t Pam’s forte, she had nothing to add when Gabby began to talk of the exquisiteness of the wings.

They took their time visiting each item in the exhibit, and at each one that featured the deity of love, Gabby took in the piece with devoted veneration. Pam was drawn more to the few drawings depicting the various Greek gods than to the objects d’art as she could more relate to the process of their creation. It was just after one when they saw all there was to see of Sleeping Eros and the rest of the art of love and they decided to head up to the enclosed rooftop garden cafe to have a bite to eat before they took in any more of the majestic works on display in the floors below.

Over lunch, which Gabby picked up, insisting like a true mother that a yogurt was not a proper meal, they chatted casually, discussing the pieces in the exhibit they just saw and what other art museums they liked to visit. Pam asked to hear more about her life with Randall and her family but something seemed to shift in Gabby since they entered the museum. She bore the same lightness in her person, her good nature seemed unchanged but it was as if she wasn’t prepared to share any more of her own history for some unknown reason. 

Just as Gabby assured her, after lunch there was plenty more time to tour the others works of art, but Pam knew there would never be time to see it all. However, knowing she had someone who would be happy to go again with her, and next time she would pay her own way, she decided there was no need to rush to try to do too much.

“So where to now?” Gabby asked as they waited for the elevator. “Time to see your impressionists?”

Something shifted in Pam too over the day. Perhaps she was inspired by the tale of Gabby and Randall, the love story that happened by chance when they weren’t expecting it. It could also have been due to the shared secret of Gabby’s change of heart about the couch that she had wanted for years, that is until she got it. Either way, she decided it was time to be more like her new friend, to take a risk and do something different from her usual.

Still, she wasn’t brave enough for a big leap. She had experienced enough turbulence when she passed through time a week back now and was still unsure what to expect when she caught up to herself in the present. She wasn’t ready to take any giant steps towards anything just yet. Baby ones were about as much as she could handle at the moment but maybe if she could do one thing that wasn't pre-planned and as expected, it could lead her to more in her future. She could start by simply suggesting a different wing to visit.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she spoke boldly while she opened the map to find out where in the museum to find what she was looking for.

“I think it’s time I discovered something new.”

Chapter End Notes:

St. James Church is on 71st and Madison. If you google map it, you'll see it's not anywhere near as stately and iconic as St. Patrick's but this is the Pam who in the future thinks Connecticut is in a different time zone (that is if her future hasn't dramatically changed from her experiences).

I have no songs for this chapter but choose any Elvis or NY song you like. I have photos to share instead:

 (Parking rates in New York are no joke)

 

Elvis on his couch

 

A photo from Graceland which I myself have been to even though, until researching this story, I was not all that much an Elvis fan. (Gabby's generation is not mine)

Oh, and the Time Magazine articles were real:

Time Magazine December 2005

The link above opens to the Your Time section with the wedding stuff. 

The cover story is The Year in Medicine, page 106 has the Manning brothers article, plus page 108 has a Harry Potter movie review,

PLUS for you Jane Austin fans turn the page for the P&P review, (discussed just the other night in the watercooler) and on page 38 there's a photo of Elvis Impersonators.

And here is an article about owning a white couch that amused me. 

https://www.countryliving.com/home-design/a45093/owning-a-white-couch/

Yeah, my google search history is confusing the hell out of the algorithm.


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