CHAPTER 3: The Reversal

What the hell?

A Mack truck had just cut in front of Jim's Corolla on his way home. He swore and smacked his head against his steering wheel, but that made no difference.

Upon reaching his front door, he patted his pockets and found no keys inside. He had left them inside his car, along with his bag.

For God's sake: Let this day be over already!

Once indoors, he stumbled into the living room. Mark, his room-mate, was lounging on the couch with his girlfriend, Isabel. Both had been about to kiss, but pulled away when he entered.

“What's up?” asked Mark.

Jim paused. He had planned on barricading himself in his bedroom and raging into his pillow all evening. Sympathy would be good, though. He had on many occasions bombarded Mark with details about the trail of destruction, otherwise known as his love life.

So, he plopped down on the couch and ranted for a good twenty minutes, only excluding his most embarrassing thoughts.

“Wait,” said Mark, smirking, “so you spent your entire first day at work flirting with a married woman? And you were going to take her out on a date?”

“I had no idea! She wore these long sleeves, and it wasn't even going to be a date...”

Mark and Isabel burst out laughing. So much for sympathy.

“Look,” said Jim, trying to laugh as well, “I didn't flirt that much. And it's just one day. I mean, she was pretty. Breathtaking. Made me laugh so much. Warm. Yeah, she was so great.”

He stared at the wall.

“But,” he said, coming back to his senses, “she's not available, so I'll keep looking. And next time, I'll check first that the lady isn't wearing a massive rock. Onwards and upwards, as they say. I'm not a complainer!”

Isabel frowned. “Wait, if it's just a massive rock, she's engaged, not married.”

Engaged? “Wait, so...”

Then he went red and said nothing more.

It made no difference.

“Anyway, you'll sleep it off,” said Isabel. “You've told us worse love stories.”

Jim pulled a face. Last month, he had broken up with Jennifer, which provoked tears on both sides, and for him, all-nighters watching Titanic. Six months before that, he dumped Hannah. For that breakup, he had watched Jaws, imagining her as the shark. Last year, it was Susan, whom he commemorated with Back to the Future.

His older brothers joked that Scranton would soon run out of women for him to disappoint. Pam had obviously dodged a bullet. Right?

Later, he collapsed onto his bed without an answer. Why on earth had he thought that he was in love? That thought had to be discarded. No, it had to be dropped off a skyscraper. What he had experienced today was a crush, nothing more.

After all, if he had seriously been in love with Pam, he would have taken the time to check her hands before even dreaming of asking her out. What on earth had he been thinking? Nothing, of course. His gazing, absurd requests, and clumsy flirting amounted to nothing more than infatuation, the same sugar rush that he had experienced with Jennifer, Hannah, Susan, and so on.

At least Pam's fiancé hadn't seen anything, else he'd have ended up in an ER.

~~~~~~~~~~

The following day, Jim paused outside Dunder Mifflin's office. Yesterday was a delusion. Today, he was a new man, sailing through his dead-end job while planning for a real future. He finally had ambition. Maybe he would even call Jennifer after work to see if he could revive their spark.

Nodding, he pushed open the door, hung his coat and scarf with unnecessary care, and avoided the receptionist's desk.

“Hey, Jim!”

Damn it.

He spun round to find Pam smiling at him expectantly. Once again, his mind went blank. “Ah, how's it going?”

“Great. By the way, were you all right yesterday?”

“What?”

“Oh, I just saw you staring at your computer while me and Roy were leaving?”

Jim's eyes went wide, then he quickly pretended to laugh. “Oh right, yeah, it was just an email I forgot to send.”

Thankfully, Pam accepted this story, giving him an opportunity to sit down. A new piece of information distracted him, though. Roy. Her fiancé's name was Roy. Well, good for her.

Good for her indeed.

On a whim, he took a jelly bean and smiled at Pam before sitting down. Only after leafing through a folder did he realise his mistake: smiling at Pam a second time.

In the car, he had calculated an average smile count of once per hour, usually for basic favours. Speaking of favours, he was only entitled to four per day, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. Under no circumstances was he to lean over Pam's desk or make jokes.

Just as he launched into his third sales call, however, the receptionist stopped by his desk.

He hung up.

Pam wore a sky blue shirt and was fiddling with a gold necklace under her collar. She smelt like lavender blossoms, Tide pods, and something indescribable, like sunshine.

Imagine if she had worn these shorter sleeves yesterday. What a coincidence.

“By the way, I filled these for you earlier,” she said, gesturing at the very forms that he had foolishly ignored. “If not, Dwight will get mad. And he's already mad.”

Jim snorted with laughter, then stopped abruptly. Only laugh politely, he had said. Excessive amusement led to flirting.

“Thanks, Pam.”

“Well, just thought it would help.” She tucked her fringe behind her ear, but it slipped loose again.

Fortunately, Dwight's return from the kitchen prevented him from wondering whether her hair felt like silk.

Jim had discovered yesterday that Dwight Schrute was in fact assistant to the regional manager, not assistant regional manager. He could only assume that the kind of man who needed to lie by omission like this did so to justify frogmarching through the office, gripping his flask like a police baton and glaring at everyone except Michael Scott.

“So,” said Dwight, running his finger down a list, “Pamela had to fill Jim's forms, and it's only his second day. Tell me: How did you get this job again?”

Jim leaned back in his chair, finally smelling an opportunity for revenge. “Corporate told me that they couldn't think of a better salesman if they tried.”

Dwight stopped moving his finger. “Nonsense.”

“Oh really?” He spun around and grinned at Pam. The receptionist shook with silent giggles. It was another mistake, but, as he had Dwight on the hook, he could not back out. “All right. I'll tell Jan that Dwight Schrute called her an incompetent liar.”

He pretended to reach for his phone, causing Dwight to backpedal faster than a cyclist on the interstate. Man, this was too easy.

“And,” said Pam, unexpectedly, “didn't Jan also say that you would become the top salesman in Pennsylvania within six months?”

“Right!” said Jim, slapping his forehead. “How could I forget that? Honestly, she gave me so many compliments that I lost track of them all.”

Dwight looked so horrified and so pained that Jim averted his eyes and kept quiet. But when the assistant muttered something about Jim probably banging Jan, he happily forgot his guilt and continued inventing compliments.

After Dwight stormed off to the photocopier, Pam leaned close and said, “How do you make all of that up with a straight face?”

“With great skill,” he said, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat. “Actually, Jan did say the part about not finding a better salesman, but I think Dwight would die if he knew that.”

He had expected Pam to laugh, but instead, her eyes were wide.

“She really said that? Wow, you must have made a great impression.”

Jim was speechless. Even though Pam soon had to take a call, it took him precisely seven minutes before he could continue selling paper.

~~~~~~~~~~

At lunch, Jim waited at his desk until Pam had disappeared into the kitchen. A customer service assistant named Kelly Kapoor soon followed, before both headed into the break room.

Now was his chance. He retrieved his own lunch, muttered a vague hello to the others and then followed the pair.

His plan had failed. By ten-thirty, he had broken his rule about not visiting Pam's desk frequently. He had also broken his rule about unnecessary smiles. The only victory he could claim was not interrupting her work to repeat another stupid joke, but that was only because he had overheard Kelly Kapoor begging Pam for details about her wedding at lunch.

So here he was, pretending to eat. Stupid? Not necessarily. He had run into the truth by accident, so he might as well hear the gory details upfront.

Well, not exactly upfront. Kelly first babbled about Hollywood A-Listers as though she knew them personally before saying, “So, tell me about the wedding, Mrs. Anderson! When is it?”

Jim winced. Cursing himself quietly, he began packing away his food.

Then Pam spoke.

“Well,” she said, with a bashful smile that made his heart skip another beat, “I think maybe in six months?”

“Oh my God,” said Kelly, covering her mouth, “I am literally gonna cry.”

“Totally,” said Pam, now giggling. “Or maybe eight months. Still, I don't want to wait too long, so maybe six. Even five. I don't know. We'll see.”

What a remarkable answer. Confident and indecisive at the same time. Jim couldn't help raising his eyebrows, though the information made his heart sink like the Titanic. Before he could guess the reason for Pam's indecision, the receptionist glanced at him.

He quickly opened a packet of Cool Original Doritos and began munching.

“Oh my God,” said Kelly again, “I would so tell him to speed it up. Like, if I get engaged, we're running off to the courthouse by the end of the week. Can we go dress shopping this weekend?”

Jim stopped eating, packed away his food, and left.

Back at his desk, he stared blankly at his computer screen. Instead of its sea blue background and Dunder Mifflin logo, he saw images of Pam in a white gown floating down a red carpet. Pamela Beesly, soon to be Anderson, her curls spilling across her shoulders and her sparkling green eyes full of love for Roy.

He rubbed his forehead.

God, he needed to forget this stupid crush right now.