[Michael: Poor Richards is a St. Patrick’s Day tradition here at Dunder Mifflin, Scranton. It’s the number three night spot in all of Scranton. That’s why I was so excited when they let us the place for tonight. Having the number three night spot booked all night for your very own private gathering is a beautiful thing, far more beautiful then being at the number one, plus I hear number two is kind of smelly.]

  “Hey Jim, how long do these things usually take, I mean we’ve been here an hour and I already feel myself getting dumber.” Karen was becoming more and more exasperated with every breath she took.

  “Listen Filipelli, I think this night is going to turn out a lot better then you think. I mean St. Patrick’s Day is the single greatest day of the year.” Jim let out one of his world famous dreamy smiles that made Karen, and the world, swoon at his very feet.

  “Ok, but really, can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.” As he said this Jim’s eyes were drawn to someone walking through the door. Pam. She had her hair down, which he had always loved, but this time it was different, smooth. His mind immediately wondered what it would have been like last May if her hair was that way. How would it feel in his fingers? A sick feeling hit Jim’s stomach and a wave of heat rushed over him. I’m over this, it’s just Pam. Pam. How does she keep crawling back into my head, this is real classic, Halpert, you stupid ass. He knew he was staring with his mouth hung open a bit when he heard his name being called.

  “Jim!” Karen looked at Jim and then Pam who had made her way over to the bar to greet Ryan and Kelly. “What’s going on? You didn’t even hear my question did you.”

  “Sorry, Filipelli, brain fart, I’m all ears this time.”

  “What I asked you five times was why do you put up with these people after working hours? I mean, you can only take so much of the people you work with before you want to blow your brains out.”

  “Or give yourself a lobotomy.”

  “Or that.”

  Pam had taken her time when she got home from work to take another shower and carefully test out her new straighter her mom had given her to try. She wasn’t sure how well it worked until she saw the look on Jim’s face when she first walked in. Showing up an hour late was completely worth it. As she sat down at the bar with Ryan and Kelly she couldn’t help but eaves drop on the conversation going on next to her. Michael had found himself talking to Oscar and Gil. Pam was cringing before Michael even spoke.

  “So Gil, you’re Irish?”

  “Uh, yes Michael I am, both my parents were born in Dublin.” Gil said proudly.

  “Wow, Oscar is very lucky to have a roommate like you around.”

  “I guess, yea.” Michael clearly didn’t understand that Oscar and Gil were more than roommates. “We’re actually thinking of taking a trip to Dublin sometime next year.”

  “That’ll be great for Oscar, great for all Mexicans. It’s about time he got a little Irish in him.” Before Michael realized he had said anything remotely suggestive he was interrupted by Andy frantically tapping at his shoulder.

  “Mike, they have our song! Let’s go chief, you and me.”

  “Oh, Andy, Andy Bernard, you never cease to amaze me, my friend.” And excused himself from the potentially deadly conversation he would have had had he stayed a minute longer.

  Pam was curious why the music had stopped when she heard someone get on the mike. She looked over to see a smiling Michael and a slightly intoxicated Andy. All of a sudden, music filled the room and all Pam could do was give a dumbfounded look as she heard Michael start to sing.

  “Don’t go breakin’ my heart…”

  “I couldn’t if I tried…”

  “Oh hunny if I get restless…”

   “Baby you’re not that kind…” and with these words Dwight dropped his beer and stormed out of the place, Angela soon to follow. Pam and Jim had caught this happening and as they began to look back at their drinks their eyes met across the room. Jim began to blush a bit as he abruptly looked away. Pam knew it was worth the extra time getting ready for sure this time.  

  Karen and Jim seemed to be at odds all night, or at least since she caught him keel over for Pam earlier. “Jim, can we please leave now. This isn’t getting any better like you promised.”

  “Oh come on, you mean you’re not having any fun?” Jim knew he wasn’t either, but for some reason something was making him stay.

  “No, I’m not. I don’t even like St. Patrick’s Day. It’s just an excuse for people, such as these people, to get drunk and act like asses.” Karen meant it in a joking manner, sort of.

  “You don’t like St. Patrick’s Day? Are you serious? What is wrong with you?”

  “What is wrong with me, Jim? We’ve sat at that booth all night and not once did you move, you just stared at the bar.” Karen knew what he was looking at, but was afraid to say anything; she wasn’t stupid that’s for sure.

   “Can we talk about this outside?” Jim knew he was dangerously close to Pam, who had heard their little argument, lightly smiling to herself. Karen stormed out, Jim followed.  

  It had been ten minutes since Karen and Jim stormed out of Poor Richards and Pam was getting anxious. She kept steady eye contact with the door waiting for Jim to come back in with great news. She wished he broke up with Karen and through some magical twist of fate realized he was still in love with her and come back in. After ten minutes she’d given up all hope. She just kept praying they didn’t leave together to have make-up sex on Jim’s bed.  That very thought sent chills down Pam’s spine as she felt a hand on her back.

  “Hi Pam, Happy St. Patrick’s Day!” Phyllis’ voice seemed so sweet and sincere.

  “Hi, you too!”

  “Bobby and I set the date!”

  “Oh Phyllis, that’s great news, when’s the big day?” Pam was happy to get her mind off of Jim having sex with another woman.

  “Well, Bobby and I realized that we don’t need a huge wedding, I mean he had been married once before, and I’m not as young as I once was Pam.” Pam just chuckled. “We both love Scranton in the summer, it seems so perfect. So we thought June.”

  “Wow, that is so great! What date?” As she said it, Pam was caught of guard by the door opening, it was finally Jim.

  “Well, actually, it’s June 10, I know you had that day, but it’s really the best for us, I hope you won’t find it a little odd Pam.”

  All Pam wanted to do was run over to Jim to see what happened, she had barely caught what Phyllis just told her. “Oh, no, not at all.” She was antsy to get up. “Um, Phyllis, will you excuse me.” Without hearing the answer Pam ran over to Jim who was looking around running a hand through his hair and one on his cheek.

 “Hey Jim, are you…” her words were cut off.

 “Let’s get me nice and drunk, what do you say?” Pam was hoping this was a sign of the end of Karen.

 Three beers and five shots later Jim kept steady eye contact with Pam’s glass to keep the room from spinning. He hadn’t said a word in five minutes and Pam was beginning to worry.

  “Hey Jim, you look a little pale, do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, I’m letting my Irish come out, notice how well I am holding up.” Jim turned his head toward Pam who was smiling brightly at him like she had before he screwed everything up. He started to notice all the little details of Pam; he always loved how she dressed on holidays. And her shamrock earrings were proving too cute. He couldn’t help but smile at her. At least they were still friends.

  “I just love being Irish, my mom’s maiden name was O’Toole, so Saint Patrick’s Day was always huge in my family. It’s the greatest holiday ever!”

  “Exactly, that’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

  The next song that came on the jukebox hit Jim hard. It was silly but he just loved the song “Trouble” by Ray Lamontagne. It reminded him of heartache. He knew it was a bad idea, his gut told him it was a bad idea, but he did it anyway.

“Hey Pam, do you want to dance?” His mind went back to the seventh grade semi formal and how hard it was then to ask Suzy Templeton to dance. He’ll never be able to hear 10,000 Maniacs and not think of Suzy Templeton.

   “Jim, there’s no one else in the bar dancing, won’t it be weird?”

   “No, come on, I like this song.”

  Jim grabbed Pam by the elbow and pulled her closer to the middle of the bar. As Jim started to mouth the words, Pam was a goner; what sane girl would not swoon over Jim Halpert? He stopped singing after the lines feels like every time I get back on my feet she’ll come around and knock me down again. Jim had to say something before the moment he was caught up in with Pam took advantage of him. The last line he sang felt too real. Here he was, dancing with Pam, he was fine with Karen until he came back. Karen was good enough. He just hated being alone, and Karen was there for him, and he thought that over time, Karen would be the best he could get. Looking at Pam the word friend kept ringing in his ear. Well he figured, I guess that’s all we’ll ever be. The silence between them was too strong, he had to say something.

  “Sometimes I don’t get Karen.” He settled.

  “What do you mean?” Pam’s hope of he and Karen being over was shot to hell. He wouldn’t mention her in that way if they weren’t still together.

  “It’s just, I don’t know. She hasn’t stopped complaining since she got here. She’s just not…” His pause was because he kept fighting himself over not saying the word ‘you’ after that. “She hates St. Patrick’s Day. Who hates the greatest day in the world? That’s like hating jelly beans or puppies.”

  Pam just wanted to crawl up into a ball listening to Jim talk about Karen; it took all she had to not yell at him to break up with her. But she made it clear that they’d be friends, and friends don’t do that. She was really falling for Jim for good this time, every word about how great Karen was that followed felt like stabs in her heart. This must have been what Jim felt seeing her with Roy. It made her want to cry knowing what she put Jim through. She had to tell him she was really in love with him. That she wanted him to be the only person she danced with for the rest of her life, that not being with him would kill her, that she is so over the top, one hundred percent, slit-your-own-throat in love with him that dancing with him now is bringing her one step closer to insanity. Pam was about to spill all her guts and looked him in the eye “Jim, I’m, I…” but chickened out at the last second when the gaze became deafening “I know you’ll work it out.” Damnit, you are such a shmuck.