Listen.

The air is full of voices.

They brush against our spines and smooth their fingers over our eardrums, whispering things that echo in our minds as thoughts.

        Listen.

You can hear them. Humming. Calling out to you.

They dance across the leaves at night and push their way through the cracks in the window panes, to press their hands against our dreams while we sleep.

The air is full of voices.

Close your eyes, Pam…

        Listen.

Can you hear them?

Pam?

        Take a chance.

******************************************************************************************

She had driven herself to work that morning and now she was grateful, not even bothering to adjust the thermostat of the car as she drove herself home, enjoying the iciness of the air. Enjoying her isolation. Enjoying the way that the steering wheel was almost painful in its coldness against her skin. She had anger deep down in the core of her. She had anger bubbling in her stomach and pushing itself against the walls of her intestines. She had anger for a lot of reasons, but she wasn’t really up for dissecting any of them. She knew one reason for certain…and that was the one she would announce…that was the one she would grab and thrust in Roy’s face. She pressed down on the accelerator and sniffed.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to the pamphlet that was in her purse…back to the possibilities that she had foolishly let dance through her mind all afternoon…back to the look on Jim’s face when she told him, and how that was so much different from the way Roy had looked at her…the way Roy had rolled his eyes and said no…the way Roy had gently taken her dreams from her hand and tossed them into the nearby trash can. She’d been stewing since then…even before the break room and the way Jim had confronted her. She’d been stewing. Her disappointment had turned to anger and that anger had sunk down and planted heavy, bitter roots inside of her. And now it was like someone had lifted the lid on all the things she’d never let herself say, and she could feel them preparing to burst from her mouth. She forced her car into park.

She slammed the front door on her way into the house.

She took in the look on his face.

She called him selfish.

She called him selfish and a lot of four letter words that she would sometimes regret when she would think back on that night.

She asked him why he didn’t think she should get what she wanted.

She asked him how he could say that he loved her when he didn’t want her to be happy.

She told him that he didn’t know her…that he would never know her.

        Take a chance.

She told him it was over…

She packed her bags…

And she left.

She slammed the front door on her way out because she couldn‘t help herself.

And that was how Pam left Roy.

***************************************************************************************

        Stand up.

Jim had grudgingly gone to the grocery store after work, the promise he had made to his roommate to restock the refrigerator battling with his physical and emotional exhaustion. He had pushed a cart down the aisles, not really seeing the things he was tossing into it’s metallic confines because his mind was heavy with reliving the day. He thought of the way that Pam had seemed so afraid to be excited when she’d first told him about the internship. He thought of the way that Pam had seemed so honestly pleased when he had encouraged her to try. He thought of the way Roy had stolen that from her…the way Roy had pulled the rug of happiness out from underneath her and left her to explain her own bruises away to herself…left her to keep living, when Jim was sure he would’ve wanted to die. He shook his head at a box of Easy Mac.

Some things were just wrong. There was no getting around it. Roy was just wrong for Pam.

He tossed the blue box into the cart with unnecessary vigor and a woman standing next to him deciding on soup flavors shot him a withering look. He raised his eyebrows at her as if to confirm that he meant to cause a ruckus, and she frowned, turning away and heading out of the aisle, foregoing the soup in favor of putting distance between herself and Jim. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Yeah because he was so right for Pam? He’d just threatened a woman with macaroni and cheese, for Christ‘s sake… And he’d yelled at Pam in the break room. Yelled at her. Cut her off in impatience and confusion and actually voiced his disappointment in her, which he had never done before. But he couldn’t help it…there was just something inside of him that wanted her to have these things…to have…everything. And every time Roy got in the way of that it made Jim’s blood boil. He wanted Pam to have happiness. He wanted Pam to have art. He wanted Pam to reach her potential, and Roy…Roy clearly didn’t want those things for her. Roy clearly didn’t want anything for her.

He shook his head and pushed his cart toward check out. Whatever food he’d gotten he’d gotten, and Mark would just have to deal.

He sat at a red light and vaguely registered the weatherman on the radio explaining that a storm was moving into the area. He chewed subconsciously on the inside of his cheek, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t something to be upset about. This wasn’t even his life. This wasn’t even his business. But it wasn’t really any use, because for some reason anything that involved Pam felt very much like his life…very much like his business. The light turned green and he turned onto his street, lifting a shoulder to try to ease the tension that had been building in his neck all day long. He parked and switched off the ignition, pushing his door open and smelling snow in the air. He thought lazily that the weatherman would probably be right as he reached into the back seat for what would be the first of many loads of grocery bags, his keys dangling from his fingers. He kicked the back door shut and made his away around the back of his car, trying to juggle the bags while singling out the right key on his key ring, the shadowy atmosphere of dusk making it difficult for him to tell one from the other. His fingers fumbled and the entire ring dropped to the ground with a clatter.

“Damn-it,” he muttered, bending over to grab at them. When he finally succeeded and stood up he thought he was seeing things. The air left his lungs and he froze in front of the steps to his house, his hands full and his mouth hanging open. Act normal, he thought to himself. Don‘t be angry. He shook the shock from his body and spoke. “Jesus, Pam. You scared me.” She didn’t move from sitting on the top step and shrugged heavy, tired shoulders at him.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

His gaze took in the duffel bag sitting beside her and he felt his brow furrow in concern. He nodded at her and deliberately didn’t speak for a moment, wondering what the right thing would be to say…wondering which of his questions would be the least inappropriate given the look on her face. He met her gaze steadily and something in it asked him to be careful…told him she didn’t want to say much. He accepted that easily because he had things that he wanted to say. He had things that had been lounging on his tongue since they’d left work in stony silence. He took a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry about earlier, but…” he began, but she cut him off, slicing her hand through the air in dismissal and pushing herself up so that she was standing…towering above him.

“Let’s just…not,” she requested quietly. He watched her with wide eyes and she forced a slight grin…for his sake, he was sure. “Ok?” she finished, stooping down to pick up her duffel. His shoulders lifted in a careless gesture and he tipped his head at her.

“Uh…yeah, ok,” he agreed. “What’s with the…” his voice drifted into silence and he gestured toward her bag.

“Roy and I…” she visibly deflated and he realized that pretty much any question he might have thrown at her would have been inappropriate…would’ve caused something inside of her to break. She sighed and looked him in the eye, a little bit afraid and a little bit vulnerable, one hand toying with the necklace at her throat, the other gripping the strap on her shoulder with white knuckles. “I need someplace to stay.” She said this so softly he had to strain to hear her in the stillness of the evening, leaning toward her slightly, his bags rustling at his sides.

        Stand up.

Something inside of him suddenly wanted to protect her, and he realized that he should simply try to make her comfortable…simply try to make her feel at ease…he should not pry or nudge or invade her space. Suddenly he realized this was something big, and everything he did in this situation needed to be for her. His eyebrows lifted.

“Definitely, yeah,” he moved up the stairs and past her, shoving the key into the lock with cold fingers, his shoulders hunched with the chill in the air. “Definitely. Come on in, it‘s getting pretty cold out.” She nodded.

“Thanks.”

They made their way into the house and he watched her quietly as she entered and dropped her bag next to the door, pulling her coat off tiredly and reaching to drape it on one of the overloaded hooks on the wall. He cleared his throat because the curiosity of what was going on with her was burning there…itching to be let out…but everything about her begged him to stay quiet…begged him not to ask. He respected her unspoken request.

“I’m just gonna go get the rest of these,” he mumbled, holding up the bags in her direction. She took them from him and nodded. “You can put them on the counter in the kitchen…I’ll be…right back.” He was halfway out the door when he turned around, unable to simply leave her there, and when he turned he found her standing motionless in the hall, her eyes glazed over in thought and something somber draping her features. “They’re saying there might be a snow storm tonight,” he offered up meekly, mentally berating himself for not coming up with something better to say. But then she smiled at him…softly…sadly… And, despite her air of unhappiness, he was glad because at least it was a smile, and his anxiousness abated for just a moment.

        Stand up.

“Yeah…it smells like snow,” she agreed thoughtfully. He smiled back at her and nodded.

“Yeah.”

******************************************************************************************

        Stand up.

Time is in the wanting.

Time marches because it cannot help itself.

There is a rhythm and there is a regiment and there are rows and rows of boys becoming men.

Men becoming husbands.

Husbands becoming fathers.

And you are among them.

        Stand up.

If you are still, the constant sound of feet against pavement will swallow you…

Will engulf you…

Will overcome you until there is nothing left of who you are inside.

Who are you inside, Jim?

        Stand up.

Do you feel this?

Jim?

        And all men’s hearts must burn and beat.

The kitchen was warm around her, unlike the chilliness of the front steps. She was standing at the counter, her hands laying lifeless on top of the grocery bags and her eyes closed so that she could more completely feel the temperature of the air warming her skin. She was relieved that Jim had been so understanding…that he had let her come inside and that he wasn’t asking her questions. Jim was warm and Jim’s house was warm and she was glad because she was frozen on the inside. She needed thawing, and she could already feel it happening here.

She leaned away from what had happened with Roy. She leaned away from it because she was too tired to relive it…to analyze it…to consider what she had done and whether it was right. Instead she drifted toward this…toward Jim and groceries and things that she understood because she knew that they would pull her back down to earth…would keep her from feeling like she was floating into oblivion with her newfound independence.

      Be still.

Her eyes drifted open and she sighed. She was just so tired of everything and anything having to do with Roy…she was just so tired of him and the way that he made her feel. But she couldn’t help thinking that maybe she’d been rash in leaving him. Maybe her mother would be very disappointed. Maybe everything would change…and maybe she wouldn’t be able to handle that. She shook her head down at the microwaveable cans of soup sitting in the plastic bags in front of her. This was exactly the thought process she wanted to avoid…at least for the night. This was why she needed some kind of help…some kind of distraction…some kind of…

      Be still.

“Ok, I’m not gonna lie to you, Pam…I was planning on eating Raman for dinner.” Jim bustled into the kitchen with four bags hanging from each arm and she took him in with raised eyebrows. “So you pretty much have two options. Option one, we order delivery. And option two…” the bags dropped with a thud to the floor around him and she smiled. “You’re in charge.” A chuckle escaped her and he grinned. She nodded yes. She could do that. She could easily sift through the things he had bought and make them a meal. She nodded yes. She would happily measure and boil and chop and prepare because it would keep her mind off of the disaster that was her life. Jim dipped his head at her in acknowledgement, and she wondered how he could be so in tune with her when she wasn’t even sure she was in tune with herself. Jim dipped his head at her, and she nodded yes. She nodded.

Yes.

      Be still.

She decided on pasta because it was simple and because she didn’t have a lot of options…it was amazing how much microwaveable food two men could own. Somehow she mustered up some spaghetti with marinara sauce…some salad, which was really only lettuce with a meager portion of Italian dressing…and a few pieces of garlic bread, which she made using butter and chopped garlic cloves that she found in the refrigerator. The meal took about as much effort as microwavable macaroni and cheese.

But as they sat at the kitchen table and Jim lifted a fork full of spaghetti to his lips, he let out an appreciative hum, closing his eyes and nodding as if he had never tasted marinara before. Pam grinned at him with a skeptical tilt to her brow.

“What?” she questioned, her voice flat and dry. “Has it been that long since you’ve eaten something besides a ham and cheese sandwich?” He laughed and waved his fork in her direction.

“Wait a second, whoa! Let’s not get carried away, Pam, ok? Cause ham and cheese is delicious.” Pam nodded solemnly. “A delicacy, really.” She hummed in concession and he narrowed his eyes at her in acknowledgement of her mockery. They had a small stare down which Pam won, as she usually did, and Jim sighed his defeat. “However,” he continued reluctantly, “you may have a hidden talent here,” his tone was playful and it loosened the tightness that had lodged itself into her spine since that afternoon. She felt herself relax into their friendship. This was easy…this was good and fair and he listened to her every time she opened her mouth. She watched him quietly for a while as he cut the lettuce in his salad, and his need for smaller pieces made her smile. He lifted some lettuce to his mouth.

“So, like…if you had to rank them…like your ham and cheese versus my spaghetti…” she began, staring down into her plate of spaghetti and diligently focusing on coiling some strands around her fork. His silence was tickled by humor and she mischievously looked up at him with a smirk. He was glaring at her in false irritation.

“Are you going to let me eat, or no?” he asked with laughter dancing in his words. She smiled back at him whole heartedly.

“No,” she replied. He nodded and pressed his lips together.

“This is much better than a ham and cheese sandwich, Pam.” Her mouth dropped open in shock and she pointed at him as if she couldn‘t believe he‘d actually said it. They shared a laugh, but then he suddenly became somber…soft…honest. His eyes squinted at her slightly, like he was looking for something in her gaze, and she looked away because she wasn’t sure she wanted him to find whatever it was he was searching out. She thought he might be searching for an explanation…a play by play of the things that had pushed her toward his house…a reason for her being there. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Pam…” he muttered. She raised her eyebrows and smiled in that way that she had that was all discomfort…all false friendliness, and looked back at him, meeting his stare reluctantly. Everything in her begged him to drop it…not to ask…to leave these things unspoken until the time was right for her to speak them. He lifted his chin in her direction. “Thanks,” he told her quietly, “for this.” He gestured toward the food and she inhaled a lungful of air.

      Be still.

“No problem,” she assured him. “We had to eat, right?”

“Right,” he agreed, his tone lightening slightly. “We always have to eat.”

She smiled a genuine smile because he had thanked her…because he had allowed her to back out of the intensity of the moment…because she was here and not with Roy. She smiled, and Jim returned the favor.

******************************************************************************************

Jim was trying really hard. Trying really…really hard not to ask. Not to pressure. Not to demand an explanation for Pam’s presence. She was in the living room watching TV and he was in the kitchen doing the dishes, which he had insisted upon because she had cooked and it was only fair…and his fingers were all pruney. Mostly because he kept drifting off in thought with his hands submerged in a sink full of soapy water. He was wandering through the store fronts of his mind, searching for a scenario that might explain her demeanor…a sequence of events that might lead her to his front porch…a synopsis of the emotions she had felt that day and how they had left her there…on his sofa, channel surfing. Then there was a little part of him that was arguing that he could ponder it all he wanted and he still wouldn’t know anything until she told him…But of course that part of him was promptly ignored in favor of wondering and considering and debating all of the options.

He wondered if Roy had thrown her out. If he had just totally lost it and told her to hit the road…maybe he’d packed a bag for her…tossed it into her car and watched with crossed arms as she’d climbed tearfully into the driver’s seat and driven away. But maybe not…maybe Pam had left Roy…Maybe she had finally had enough and just snuck out while he was watching hockey on ESPN…Maybe he didn’t even realize she was gone. Jim looked nervously toward the front door. Oh God, he thought, maybe he’d knock on that door any minute, having finally realized that all of Pam’s stuff was gone and demanding explanations…

“Hey Jim?”

He jumped, startled, and water splashed up and out of the sink…up and onto his shirt, soaking through it to taste the salt of his skin. He hissed and leapt back away from the counter and shook the moisture from his hands, reaching for a towel and trying…however unsuccessfully…to dry his chest. He shook his head at himself.

      Be still.

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt. He moved to the doorway of the living room, looking in at her, surprised to find that she was no longer on the sofa and was instead standing and staring out the window. The nervousness in his stomach expanded as he imagined Roy coming up the driveway with some sort of weapon, and he felt his breathing get shallow. “What is it?” he asked, somewhat frantically. She turned and pointed a finger outside.

“Snow,” she whispered happily, her eyes full of tears. His brow furrowed even as he felt his anxiousness dissipate…even as he berated himself for being completely irrational…his brow furrowed and he took another step toward her.

      Be still.

“Pam?” he asked, concern darkening his voice. She shook her head once and silenced him, swiping at the moisture beneath her eyes. He was sure it wasn’t the snow that had moved her…she’d lived in Pennsylvania her whole life…but then as she turned again to stare out the window, he wondered if maybe it was the snow…if maybe something magical had happened…something It’s a Wonderful Life and White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street…something black and white and completely 1955. “Pam?” he repeated on a whisper. She turned to him fully, then…sharply as if something had just struck her. He cocked his head.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she requested, her voice soft and full of something he couldn’t quite place. He stared back at her.

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

And so it snowed that night. And so these things floated in the air around you and so they were careful not to land with a shout, but with a sigh. And so the universe was careful of you.

And you thought to yourself, why did I wait so long to leave? And who is this man by my side who is so patient…who is so vast and so careful, like the sky? Who am I, that he would stare at me so thoughtfully?

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

And so the words fell like honey from your lips. You told him what your day had been. You told him thoughts and feelings and wishes you had once reserved for the ears of stars. These things floated in the air around you and so you were careful not to shout…but to sigh. And so this man was careful of you.

But what was it about that night that kept you from returning back to the things you had been before? What was it about the snow that urged you forward toward the stuff dreams are made of?

Was it the snow that whispered: Stay here with him…?

Pam?

Was it snow?

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.

****************************************************************************************

“Oh man.” Jim crossed his pea-coat covered arms across his chest and squinted up at the sky, hunching his shoulders like that might keep his face from getting wet with precipitation. “This snow is not messing around, Pam.” She tugged the door closed behind her and trotted down the porch steps after him, her fingers clumsy in the confines of a pair of thickly made gloves. Slowing to a halt beside him, she too tipped her face up to the sky and felt the gentle pressure of snow melting on her skin. She let her eyes slide closed.

In a place where snow fell often and in large amounts, it was sort of like a relative that you saw for a few months every year…a really sort of intrusive, irritating relative that…had to be shoveled. Her family had dealt with it frantically and methodically, pushing it from one side of the driveway to another and rolling their eyes when it continued to fall.

“Playing” in the snow as a child had required piles and piles of equipment that had not only made Pam feel claustrophobic and sweaty, but had also made her almost completely immobile. She would waddle out into the falling snow and sort of flop into it, meditate on her discomfort for a while, and then stand up and waddle back inside…where she was rewarded for her efforts with hot chocolate and marshmallows. Snow was all about the hot chocolate and marshmallows.

It wasn’t until recently that she had wondered what it would’ve been like to have first encountered snow as an adult, instead of a child. She wondered if she would have seen it more…if she would’ve understood it for what it really was…if she would’ve gotten what the fuss was about…why people made movies and sang songs about letting it snow, if she had met it as a 26 year old. She wondered if she would ever understand.

That night she thought she did.

“Pam?” he asked quietly, having watched her non-verbal conversation with the weather. She turned to him with rosy cheeks and pulled her hat onto her head.

“Don’t complain, Jim, the world needs snow.” He chuckled at that and nodded his acquiescence.

“Agreed.” He nodded once and pressed his lips together, and she nodded back before turning to take in the street before them, which was eerily empty and covered with white. During the time between her suggestion of a walk and their actual execution of the idea, the snow had continued to fall in large amounts…big flakes that stuck to the ground and lay there like cotton candy, and a warning had been issued on the television that people should stay off the roads. Apparently everyone in Jim’s neighborhood had heeded the advice. She pointed to their left.

“This way?” she asked lightly, her shoulders shrugging as if to say that she didn’t really care. He agreed by following the direction of her arm with his rubber-soled feet. They walked quietly for a while, his hands stuffed into his pockets because he’d forgotten gloves, and her hair damp around her shoulders, dusted with snow. Their pacing was leisurely, a light stroll that leant itself to her already thoughtful demeanor. Jim sniffed and she glanced over at him with a soft smile. “You really want to know, don’t you?” His shoulders broke into a relieved hunch and he breathed out a laugh.

“It’s killing me. I’m like dying…I’m trying so hard not to ask.” He smiled down at her and she laughed back at him, taking a second to blow warm air into her gloves and then press them against her cold cheeks.

“I’m kind of impressed that you lasted this long,” she told him jokingly. His smile turned to a grin and he offered up a little mock bow in her direction. She chuckled once more before nodding her consent…nodding her understanding that she should explain herself. She took a deep breath. “Last year I used some of my Christmas bonus to buy myself a paint set.” The tone of this sentence…the finality of it…the way she said it as if that was all, as if that would satisfy him, gave him pause. He waited through her silence, sure that she was about to say more, but the quiet lingered so long that he eventually turned to her with a frown.

“Ok,” he mumbled, confused. She sighed and he realized that he still needed the patience he’d found in himself earlier…he still needed to give her space…give her time. Her fingers began to tug at the sleeves of her pink coat.

“Roy was really mad and I don’t know what I was thinking but I guess I just thought…I guess I just thought that I wanted it. I wanted a paint set and so I went out and bought one.” Jim nodded. “And Roy came home and I showed it to him, and I was so excited and I just thought he’d be excited too…or he would at least be glad that I was excited…but he was really mad. He said I made him save money for the wedding and then I just went out and wasted two hundred bucks on crayons.” Her voice was quiet, and Jim didn’t speak for fear that his boiling blood would come spilling out of his mouth. He hated Roy with a special kind of passion…but he didn’t know where this story was going and, having had some practice in this area, he didn’t want to upset her by voicing his opinion on the matter. So instead he just shook his head to himself, knowing that her eyes were glued to the snow-covered sidewalk in front of them. She cleared her throat gingerly. “They weren’t crayons,” she assured him softly. He glanced up at the sky in frustration.

“I know,” he promised, his voice hushed to match hers.

“He told me I had to return it,” she muttered.

“And you did.” It wasn’t a question, because Jim knew the answer. He knew it like he’d known earlier that day that Pam had given up on the internship in New York City. He knew the answer and his disappointment in her oozed from his tone of voice because he couldn’t control it. She let out a short cynical chuckle.

“Yeah and I cried the whole time. I think the clerk at the store thought I was a nut.” He lifted a hand from his pocket and scratched at his eyebrow, watching the snow falling in front of them and thinking it seemed a lot like this fuzzy explanation she was giving him.

“Why…are you telling me this…?” he asked her gently, shoving his hand back into the navy blue fabric at his side. She looked over at him with snow flakes dangling from her eyelashes and he felt his anger with her dissipate and float into the air like it always did when she looked at him a certain way. She crossed her arms.

“I really want to do this training program, Jim.” He nodded. “I’m doing it.” Her pace quickened slightly with her enthusiasm and he felt her statement like a blow to his stomach. This was Pam…he thought. He knew this person was inside of her just begging to get out. He knew it. “Roy thinks he knows what I want but…he just doesn’t,” she stated calmly. “I’m doing this and I’m excited and he can’t just…” She shook her head in irritation. “I’m doing it.”

“That’s awesome, Pam,” he told her earnestly, smiling because he couldn’t help it. She stopped walking and looked over at him with a tilted head, her arms crossed and her coat long and pink around her. He paused and turned back to her with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Thank you,” she told him meaningfully. He tried not to analyze that too much…tried not to let it plant seeds of hope in his over-active, Pam-filled imagination…tried not to feel like she was thanking him for not being Roy, and maybe acknowledging that Jim maybe did know what Pam wanted. He pressed his lips together and nodded his head once at her.

“You are welcome,” he responded. She smiled and resumed her stroll, letting him match her pace as they walked quietly for a little while, the gloom of her earlier demeanor palpably absent.

“Thanks for yelling at me earlier,” she told him, her eyes once again glued to the sidewalk in front of her. He blew air out of his mouth skeptically.

“I didn’t yell at you,” he assured her, brushing some flakes from his eyes. She chuckled.

“Yeah you did, but I’m glad.” She kicked some snow aside and left a dash behind her.

“Well, then it was the least I could do,” he told her, his grin lifting his left cheekbone. Their silence returned for a few minutes, and they decided to turn back toward his house without saying a word to each other. They passed the place she had made a dash and it was already covered again with snow. She sighed.

“What if I’m not good enough for New York?” The fear fell from her lips and she regretted voicing it as soon as it was out of her mouth. She was sure she sounded like some sort of school girl who was afraid to go to college. But Jim just smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Oh I think you’re good enough, Beesly.” His hand rubbed at her arm and she leaned toward him, glad to have comfort and glad to be as lucky as she was. “I definitely think you’re good enough.” And they walked back to his house, side by side and dressed in the intricate lace that fell from the sky.

Pam couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t due to discomfort…Jim’s sofa was probably more comfortable than the bed she shared with Roy, and the blanket he had given her was large and soft and she found herself curling up into it and letting out a long contented sigh. No it definitely was not a matter of discomfort….her insomnia was a matter of a lack of mental relaxation. In other words, Pam couldn’t get her brain to shut up long enough to let her sleep.

She spent about an hour thinking about what it would be like to work in New York on the weekends…thinking that maybe she would yell at someone on the sidewalk…thinking she might take a taxi or take the subway, which she had never done. She had always wanted to live in the city and have the strength that seemed to come with that…the ability to stand up for yourself and get angry if someone gave you like a slice of pepperoni pizza when you’d ordered plain. She grinned happily and pressed her face into the pillow to keep herself from laughing in excitement. A new road, she thought happily, a new life and a new Pam.

Then she thought of her mother…and how, during the drive away from Roy she had considered calling her and had decided against it. She had tossed the phone from her hand and told herself to grow up…to do this without asking permission from an adult…she told herself to be the adult…and she gave herself permission. And she was glad she had done that…she felt that like a palpable growth in the scheme of her life…only now she would have to call her mother and explain…she would have to call her mother and inform instead of inquire. And that terrified her. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d done the right thing…

She then began to wonder if this new life of hers would ever be able to include Roy, and her face gave way to a look of serious contemplation. She wondered if she should overlook their disagreement and offer to go back to him…which she was sure was what he was expecting. In fact, she was sure he was probably fast asleep at the moment…happily asleep and positive that the next day Pam would walk through the door and apologize…which of course made her all the more averse to doing so. No, she thought. Roy didn’t really fit into her new life…Roy was pushy and demanding and full of himself and certainly wouldn’t be able to handle it if Pam started making more money than he did. He probably wouldn’t be able to handle Pam’s acquired New Yorker attitude, either. Maybe she didn’t need a man at all…maybe she should just be single and young and career-oriented like the women she sometimes read about in magazines who made six digit salaries all on their own. Except she liked coming home to someone…she liked having a boyfriend…but if she did start seeing someone…he would have to believe in her. He would have to be supportive and understanding and someone who had goals of their own…someone who could relate to her and laugh with her…someone who listened to her every time she spoke and comforted all of her fears…someone kind of like…

Jim…she realized.

He would have to be kind of like Jim.

She left that thought alone because of the way that it made her stomach tighten and the way that she had to kick the blanket away because she was feeling a little bit warm.

Pam stared up at the ceiling, wondering how she would tell her mother that instead of going back to Roy she’d gone to Jim…that instead of wanting to heal something old she wanted to start something new…that she was lying here thinking about what Jim was dreaming of upstairs…And would her mother be surprised?…Really, genuinely surprised? Somehow Pam didn’t think so, despite the fact that Mrs. Beesly was somewhat fond of Roy.

Footsteps creaked against the old floorboards of the house and Pam slammed her eyes closed, hoping that she would seem to be sleeping soundly. She certainly didn’t want to discuss her musings with Jim at the moment…the footsteps paused at the bottom of the stairs…and then again in the doorway to the living room, before creeping carefully by and entering the kitchen. Pam held her breath.

Jim stood in the dark kitchen and wondered how he could pull on the too-heavy refrigerator door…which was full of beer bottles that he knew would clang really loudly against each other just because that was what they did…and open it…which would trigger the too-bright light inside above the top shelf that illuminated, like, the entire first floor of the house…without waking a very-much-asleep Pam Beesly…who was silent and shadowed on the sofa in the living room. He sighed and crossed his arms, glaring at the magnets that spelled out ‘KISS MY ASS’ in large, multi-colored, Sesame Street looking letters. Mark’s idea of a joke, he was sure. He scratched his head and shifted his weight to the other leg, still wondering whether he should yank the door open like ripping off a band-aid, or if he should be gentle and try to ease it open…

Why the hell was he even at the fridge anyway? He wasn’t thirsty or hungry…at all. He just couldn’t sleep. And that was just because Pam was lying on his sofa in pajamas and sleeping and just looking like Pam and he couldn’t STOP thinking about that. He looked over at her in absolute desperation. Why couldn’t she just be ugly and gross and have lots of annoying habits like snapping her gum or saying um after every single word she uttered? Hey, um, Jim? Um can I um crash…um on your um sofa? He totally would’ve said no to that. He rolled his eyes at himself, mostly because he knew that wasn’t true.

But god…he just wanted to…like…shake her, or grab her, or…just scream at her. Scream the things that he knew…the things that he had been thinking for three years…things like Roy is wrong for you…things like How long do you expect me to wait around without going crazy?…things like I’m…in love with you…

I’m in love with you.

But, uh…that was probably not a good idea. Although it was looking better than it had been about a week ago, what with Pam crying on his doorstep and sleeping on his sofa and…

Jesus…

Pam was sleeping on his sofa… What was that about? How was he supposed to ignore that, and think nothing of that, and act like a goddamn girl around her tomorrow? The man inside of him wanted to stake a claim on this…wanted to plant a flag and proclaim that he would care for her and protect her and she was sleeping on his sofa and that meant something. But he knew that she wasn’t looking for a flag-planting man, at the moment…she wasn’t looking to be protected…she wanted a “friend”…she wanted someone to listen to her and agree with her and not…feel her up at the end of the night…which some of him really wanted to do right now….

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until his vision was covered in white spots. Pam was in a fragile state. Delicate and fragile. He just had to keep repeating that to himself. He dropped his hands and refocused. Delicate and fragile…delicate and fragile…delicate and fucking fragile and he should just call himself a woman and get it over with. He wiped his face with his hands and turned back to the magnets in front of him.

He lifted his middle finger and waved it at the phrase.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he decided on the slow and easy route for opening the refrigerator door, reaching his hand out and wrapping his fingers gingerly around the handle and giving it a tug. But his hand dropped to his side and he turned back toward the living room when he heard keys in the lock on the front door.

Shit.

Mark was home.

He scratched his forehead as Mark unknowingly shoved his way through the front door, whistling…which was awesome…and slammed it behind him, tossing his keys onto the table in the front hall. Mark practically stomped through the living room, removing his coat and turning to toss it onto the sofa, but halting with a deep-voiced: “Whoa…”

“Mark,” Jim whispered in irritation. Remarkably, Pam had not stirred through all of this. Jim thought maybe she was exhausted from her day and was just totally down for the count. Mark leaned forward toward him as if trying to discern him from the shadows. Jim waved him into the kitchen.

“James…” Mark began in a whisper once he’d stopped in the doorway, “do you realize there is a woman on our sofa?” Jim planted his hands on his hips and sighed.

“Yeah do you wanna keep the whistling to a minimum?” Mark lifted a shoulder in response and Jim leaned back against the sink.

“Why is there a woman on our sofa?” Mark asked suspiciously.

“She…needed someplace to stay, so I said it was ok,” Jim explained quietly, crossing his arms. “I figured you wouldn’t care.” He paused, but Mark just stood there staring at him. “You don’t…care….do you?”

“Who the hell is she?” Mark glanced behind him and then back at Jim, wondering if this was some sort of bizarre romance that only Jim could have. Leave it to Halpert to invite a girl over and then make her sleep on the sofa, he thought sardonically.

“She is…a friend from work,” he explained, but Mark just stared at him, unsatisfied. “Pam,” Jim admitted, looking down at the tiling underneath his feet.

“What?” Mark hissed. “Engaged Pam?!” Jim nodded and chewed on the inside of his cheek, somewhat glad that he had company in this situation because he’d been tortured by it since he’d gone to bed. “The holy grail?!” Mark asked through quiet and disbelieving laughter.

“Come on, man, I told you not to call her that,” he scolded, his voice full of irritation, which was probably a combination of annoyance with the term ‘holy grail’ and utter frustration with the situation itself. Mark bobbed his head at him and waved an uncaring hand, his gaze drawn to Pam’s sleeping form.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. So what is the deal with this? She’s not engaged anymore?” Jim looked out at Pam and shook his head, thinking they shouldn’t be talking about this here…thinking that it was pathetic that he didn’t really know the answer to that question. Was she still engaged? She hadn’t said…and he hadn’t asked.

“I don’t know. Listen, whatever ok? Is it fine if she stays on the sofa or not?” he questioned impatiently. Mark shrugged, still watching her unmoving figure on the sofa.

“Yeah I don’t care,” he mumbled. Jim blinked at him and tried not to be annoyed…tried not to be angry and frustrated and basically finished with the entire day…and then Mark spoke… “Although if you ask me you should offer her a little…”

“Shut…up,” Jim instructed harshly, having had enough of his own thoughts…which had veered too often in that same dirty direction. Mark thought nothing of his roommate’s severe tone and simply nodded casually.

“Right. So listen…” Mark took a step toward Jim and patted him squarely on the chest. Jim looked down in a warning and Mark removed his hand. “I met someone,” he confessed in a rush. Jim stood up, away from the sink and raised his eyebrows, thrilled at the distraction and feeling his tension start to dissipate almost immediately.

“Yeah I meant to ask, where have you been all night?” he asked. Mark rubbed his hands together excitedly, chewing on his lower lip.

“Next door,” he answered shortly. Jim’s face twisted into incredulity.

“You met someone next door? That‘s classy,” he muttered.

“Yes, Jim,” Mark responded, his tone for the first time indicating that he had noticed Jim’s bad mood, and had sort of had enough His stare leveled Jim, and he dipped his head at Mark in apology. “Yes,” Mark repeated. “And she is...God, she is so…” he sucked in a lungful of air and Jim nodded, waiting for the end of the sentence. “Tall,” Mark finished happily. Jim‘s head bobbed backwards and he raised his eyebrows again, feeling them stretch toward his hairline.

“Wow…congratulations. She sounds like a gem.” Jim pushed past Mark and crept quickly through the living room and back toward the steps. Mark followed him hurriedly and took the stairs two at a time behind him.

“I invited her to the thing this weekend, so just…try to act like less of a loser than you actually are,” he whispered. Jim paused and turned around.

“This, from a guy who eats SpaghettiO‘s for breakfast on a regular basis…” he argued. Mark nodded thoughtfully before draping a friendly arm around Jim’s shoulders and turning him to look down into the living room.

“Jim…” he began. “Pam…is sleeping in your house right now,” he pointed out. Jim nodded back at him.

“Yeah I can see that…” he offered up in forced disinterest. Mark patted him on the shoulder and moved past him up to the landing. He paused in the doorway to his bedroom and shook his head in mock disappointment. Jim leaned against the wall in tortured uselessness and crossed his arms.

“On the sofa,” Mark added sadly before closing his bedroom door and leaving Jim to stand on the stairs and sigh. He stared down at Pam’s blanket-covered form and shook his head.

“Whatever…” he muttered to nobody in particular, hoping that the one word would banish the subject from his mind altogether. He finally turned and climbed the rest of the stairs, falling asleep about an hour later, pondering whether or not he could handle the situation that he had gotten himself into.

Once she heard Jim’s door close, Pam opened her eyes and pursed her lips at the ceiling, sucking in a noisy lungful of air.

“The holy grail?” she muttered aloud. The ceiling just stared back at her, refusing to offer any explanations. She finally fell asleep about an hour later, pondering what exactly Mark meant…and what exactly Jim was thinking.

*************************************************************************************

Can you take what is being given to you?

What of your arms?

What of elbow and shoulder and wrist?

Will they support the weight of someone else’s world, so that like Atlas you will stand forever with her fate in your hands?

This is how lives are melded together…this is your story.

She will say to you Carry my burdens.

She will say Hold my hand so that I won’t fall.

And what of your arms, Jim?

Have you spent enough years here, hauling your own weight…dragging your own faults behind you, to grow yourself muscle and bone?

And will you realize that in order to carry this for her…in order to lift her up and let her feel weightlessness…you must first let go of the things you have forced upon yourself?

Are you ready for this, Jim?

Tell me.

What of your arms?

****************************************************************************************

If I had you I would tell you how beautiful you are to me.

…I think I would…

I would.

I would tell you.

And you would smile.

And then I would tell you again.

He was standing at the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room, leaning on it really, his computer open in front of him but going completely ignored. Instead he was watching her…which felt a little weird…like a little bit Fatal Attraction or I Know What You Did Last Summer…like ‘I’ve been watching you’ and ‘the call is coming from inside the house.’ But for some reason he couldn’t help himself…despite his awareness of the creep factor. Needless to say he’d never admit to it, but he was watching her, and she was sleeping and had no idea that across the room he had a heavy gaze and anxious hands and chewed-upon lips and was staring at her like any moment she might burst into song or something. He blinked and shook his head, shifting his gaze so that he was totally focused on his computer screen.

His yahoo email page blinked back at him and his inbox was full of junk that he needed to delete. He almost never used yahoo anymore, and pretty much just stuck to his work account, so every once in a while he’d have to go in and delete everything that he didn’t care about in his personal account…which was basically everything. He went down the row with lazy fingers, clicking on the little boxes next to the subject lines, barely registering what each email even was.

He clicked delete and went back to squinting at Pam. He had this tickle in the back of his throat…like a little pulse that pushed at his vocal cords and tapped its foot on the tip of his tongue. He propped his chin on his hand and brushed his fingers against his lips…promising himself that saying something to her would not be a good idea. Mentioning feelings or relationships or love or, like …sex…would end badly for him. He would regret it. Definitely. He would definitely regret saying something. He swallowed against the tickle and the pulse and the tapping foot, hoping they would all slide down to his stomach and disintegrate. It didn’t really work. He was still pretty much in love with her, and he still, for some reason, really felt like saying it out loud.

This whole thing annoyed him. He had so many friends who had that, uh, “I just love the chase” disease. Guys who wanted girls to give them a hard time…make it a challenge…like have a fiancé, for example…and then once it got easy for them it was like a switch had been flicked. Not in love. Not even interested. He could think of three of his friends who consistently ditched girls because they called them back too quickly…or because they called them back at all. For those guys the best thing a girl could do was ignore them…be involved with someone else…tell them to eat shit and die...THEN those guys were in love. THEN those guys were interested. Yeah…Jim was not that way. Pam was now possibly available…Pam was now a hesitant yellow light…Pam was lying on his sofa, which he’d already obsessed over…and now that little ‘if only’ ache that he’d gotten so used to had grown into a big old ‘what if…’

Which was a whole different thing...

He shook his head and went back to his computer, hitting the refresh button just in case anyone had emailed him in the last two minutes. He shook his head at the empty inbox. Absolutely not. Pam was absolutely not a yellow light. That light was red. That light was red and Pam was probably still with Roy, and if not then she was definitely too newly single to be available…and she would definitely freak out and not be his best friend anymore if he like busted out into some sort of “What light through yonder window breaks” bullshit. Plus the whole Booze Cruise crush incident had had almost no effect on her whatsoever, which probably meant she wouldn’t be interested even if she WAS single. So…no. Red, red light. He needed to just chill out and act normal and assume that she was still with Roy. Ok, he thought to himself. Good.

“Ugh…”

He froze like a kid caught stealing candy, unmoving and hoping he just blended into the cupboards behind him.

“Jim?”

Yeah no such luck…he smiled over the edge of his laptop and she rubbed her eyes at him, hazy from sleep.

“Morning,” he greeted, shutting down and closing his computer, a little bit impressed with how unaffected he sounded. Red light, he reminded himself. Red, red, red. He leaned onto his forearms and she took in his blue-sleeved baseball shirt and frowned.

“What time is it?” she asked, confused and a little bit distracted by the attractiveness of Jim in comfortable attire. He turned and glanced at the microwave.

“It is…10:17.” She sat up with a gasp and tossed the blanket onto the floor.

“Oh my god…oh my god I’m gonna get fired.” Jim smirked as she sort of jogged around the coffee table, searching for something…probably her bag, but stopping back in front of the sofa without success. She planted her hands on her hips and scanned the entire room with her gaze. “I’m soooo late…Where are my…” She bent down and shook out the blanket with quick fingers, still hoping to locate something that belonged to her.

“Uh, Michael actually already called,” Jim informed her casually because he couldn’t help himself. She paused from folding up the blanket and looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Oh my god…he did?” she asked. Jim nodded.

“Yeah he told me to tell you…what was it…Since you were so late, he went ahead and, uh, offered your job to Bob Vance? I guess he has tons of experience as a receptionist and Michael‘s just been waiting to find an excuse…”

“You suck.” He chuckled and stood up straight, tapping his hands against the counter as she tossed the blanket back onto the sofa and tugged at her oversized t-shirt. “Seriously, why are we not at work? It is Friday, right?” she asked, the panic she’d been feeling now laying in an amused puddle at her feet.

“Everything’s canceled.” He lifted a hand and pointed out the window to her right. “We’re snowed in.”

******************************************************************************************

If I had you I would kiss you until I got tired of it.

But I’d never tire.

No…

Never. I would never tire.

And you would stop me…

And then I would kiss you again.

He focused on breakfast. Breakfast involved bowls and boxes and cartons and all sorts of things that needed to be retrieved and in some cases washed in order to be used. He distracted himself with breakfast. Pam was in the bathroom doing Pam type activities and he had to just distract himself with breakfast. He stood at the sink, just as he had the night before, and hand washed two bowls, letting the soap float past his fingers and swirl down the drain. He found it fascinating that when Pam was not in the room he had countless nervous breakdowns…but as soon as she was present and awake and looking at him, his panic and anxiousness receded so that he could have room to take her in…to see her and to listen to her and to know everything about her that he could. He was grateful for that, because otherwise he was sure she would be put off. Panic attacks were not attractive…He was also a little bit disconcerted by how many times he’d thought the words “in love with Pam” over the past twenty four hours. He was getting a little out of control. Admittedly. And he’d just done it again, so that made like ninety seven times he’d thought it.

He grabbed a towel and dried the bowls a little bit emphatically, shaking his head at himself. It was just that no matter how hard he tried…and he was trying…he couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the way she had looked at him on the porch yesterday…the way her hair had looked dusted with snow…the way that sometimes he was afraid he’d over thought this entire situation so completely that they could never really be together…the way that she was every woman he’d ever loved, wrapped up inside a package that was so much more than any of those women had ever been. He sighed.

The bowls were stacked one inside the other as he turned to place them on the counter behind him, and when he turned she was standing there…like she had materialized out of thin air. She was standing there in pink cashmere and jeans with her hair tied back into a pony-tail and her eyes wide because he turned and there was no room and no time to avoid the fact that he was suddenly pressed up against her, and thoughts of Roy and her mother and New York City drifted from her mind like rain clouds. The counter dug into her lower back…but she didn’t really notice. Denim brushed against denim, and he avoided stepping on her foot by only an inch…but neither of them noticed that either. There was a moment of utter stillness as the smell of after-shave and soap and something…god, it was so good…swam around her and she inhaled through her nose and sort of swayed on her feet, her cheeks turning an embarrassed shade of pink. And he stood there, letting the way that she smelled a little bit like his hand-soap and a little bit like toothpaste and a little bit like…something deliciously feminine that couldn’t really be placed…trip around in his mind as he unconsciously stooped down a little to breathe in the scent of her hair more completely. Her eyes slid closed as she reveled in the press of his hip against hers. Jesus Christ, what was this… Her eyes flew open and she remembered something about friends and complications and decorum…

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, moving to side-step him and exit the kitchen as quickly as she could, but his hand shot out and grabbed her forearm, trapping her in place and sending a shiver down her spine.

“Don’t…” he replied, his voice deep and thick with the way that her chest heaved and the way that she was so small in front of him. He meant to say “Don’t worry about it,” or maybe “Don’t, it’s fine,” and step away from her…but instead the one word just hung in the air between them and he didn’t move …for some reason he couldn’t move. He reached around her and set down the bowls, leaving his hand braced against the counter so that his arms were stretched out on both sides of her, trapping her in front of him without any escape…Not that she wanted to escape. Her hands landed instinctively against his chest and sort of drifted there, exploring the way that his heart was pounding beneath the white of his shirt, and the way that he was emanating that special kind of heat that made her stomach twist. Her brow furrowed with a vague feeling of confusion that lingered in the back of her mind, but it went ignored because she was far too distracted by other things. He inhaled audibly and his hands slid closer together on the counter so that he was almost embracing her. He leaned back and glanced down at where her hands rested on his shirt, and then looked back up at her, meeting her hazy stare with one of his own. He bent down toward her. “Where’s your engagement ring?” He planted the whisper almost directly into her ear and her head tipped to let his breath fan there.

“I gave it back…” she answered quietly, trance-like as his face drifted in front of hers, his mouth dangerously close to where she so suddenly wanted it to be. How had she not realized that this was…like this. God…she’d always been attracted to him but this was intense…beyond intense…

“Huh…” he answered, his nose brushing against her jaw. She shifted a little and leaned forward so that he could feel her breath against his mouth and his eyes slipped shut…he tried not to let himself think because he was sure that if he did he would have one of those panic attacks that he’d thought were so unattractive…he wasn’t sure whether it was working or not. He leaned into her and moved his hand so that his fingers were laced through her belt loops and he tugged her closer to him…she sighed deep and long and her hands slipped lower on his stomach. Green light, he thought as his fingers drifted into the pocket on the back of her jeans…green…green…

“Ok so I know this is a state of emergency or some shit like that, and it’s only like 11 o’clock, but um…I am in serious need of a hamburger…” They leapt apart at the sound of Mark’s voice and Pam lifted a hand to her forehead in bewilderment. That was not…planned. That was not what she expected or needed and that added a lot of complications to her already complicated life. What the hell… She avoided Jim’s heavy and hot gaze like her life depended on it. Mark stopped in the living room and glanced at the scene, registering exactly what was going on and ignoring it because that seemed like the best option. “Anyone with me?” Pam cleared her throat and Jim watched her, a little bit ashamed that he hadn’t let her avoid the situation in the first place. She had tried to…she had wanted to…but Jesus he had wanted to just stand there forever. He made a mental note to apologize as soon as Mark…

“Yes,” Pam replied emphatically, rushing out of the kitchen and grabbing her coat off the hook in the hall. She was out the door without another word, and Mark just stood there, staring at Jim in surprise and vague amusement.

“What the hell?” Mark asked. Jim wiped at his face with his hands and bent slightly at the waist, thinking that this was a disaster…and a fucking wet dream gone horribly wrong…

“I don’t know,” he muttered. Mark laughed humorlessly and followed Pam outside, shaking his head the whole time. Jim sighed as the door closed and stared at the painted wood with a tense jaw and crossed arms. Red light, he thought angrily…red, red light. “I love you,” he said aloud, feeling something loosen inside of his chest. “I’m in love with you.” The door didn’t respond.

He made a mental note to not be such an asshole, and climbed unhappily upstairs and onto his bed, where he spent the entire time Pam was gone fervently wishing he had better timing and more self control…

If I had you I would love you forever and a day.

And I will even though I don’t have you

I will…

And you won’t know.

And I’ll love you anyway.

Have you had your break today?

Pam crossed her arms and stomped snow off of her boots while she waited for Mark to stuff his arms into his jacket.

“Where are we going? Isn’t everything closed?” she wondered aloud. The fresh air was welcome and harsh against her cheeks, and the snow had taken a break so that all she had to embrace her was the coldness and her coat.  She pursed her lips and drew a question mark in the snow covering the sidewalk, staring down at it like that would settle her unsettled nerves.  Mark glanced down at her design and then met her gaze, searching her face with concern. 

“You ok?” he asked, and she shifted uncomfortably, toying with her necklace and shrugging her shoulders.   

“Yeah, I’m good.”  She said it like she had no idea why he would be asking, no idea why he felt like he maybe had to take her arm or sit her down on the porch steps.  He huffed out a single laugh and tipped his head at her as she walked away from him with an air of false lightness to her step. 

“Right…” he muttered to himself.  She paused, realizing that he wasn’t beside her and turned back toward him in confusion. 

“Are you coming?” she asked.  He stared at her for a moment, letting her absorb that there was a reason he didn’t follow her…there was a reason he was still standing in exactly the same place with his hands on his hips.  But because he was Mark, and because he figured whatever was going on probably wasn’t his business he only let the intensity linger for that one moment before he chuckled quietly and dropped his arms to his side. 

“We’re going this way…” he told her, pointing in the opposite direction of where she was headed.  She blushed in mild embarrassment because she didn’t really know Mark that well and she should’ve just let him take the lead in the first place.  

“Oh…sorry…” she muttered once she had reached his side and they had started to stroll.  They walked quietly for a while until she pursed her lips at him.  “So…where are we going, again?”  He smiled. 

“The Glider,” he informed her happily.   

“The Glider Diner?” she asked in confusion, glancing back toward the house and sort of wishing she had stayed there.  “Won’t it be closed? It’s a state of emergency.” 

“The Glider is never closed!” he informed her adamantly.  “People have to eat, Pam.  People like us have to eat.” The statement made her think of Jim and the night before when she had said basically the same thing after he had thanked her for the spaghetti.  She frowned in thought.  “Plus Mindy and Tom live like next door or something so it’s not like they’d have to drive there, and I know a lot of old men who would be very displeased if they couldn’t get their daily cup of Mindy’s shitty coffee.” Pam snorted in response and glanced back again, wondering vaguely what the hell she would say to Jim once this jaunt was over and she was standing in front of him.  Actually...she wasn’t at all hungry.  “It’s only two blocks,” Mark reasoned,  “Don’t look so nervous.”  

“I could’ve cooked you a burger…” she told him quietly.  He laughed and she wasn’t sure whether or not to be insulted.  “What?” 

“No…nothing, it’s just…um…there wasn’t a whole lot of cooking going on in the kitchen when I walked…” 

“Shut up, Mark,” she warned, but a smile was teasing her lips and she thought that maybe it was ok that she thought his joke was funny…maybe it was ok that she and Jim had almost kissed in his kitchen…maybe this was all ok and she should just relax.  But still she was a little disconcerted with how quickly she seemed to be moving on from where she had been the day before…how fast things seemed to be going and how much they were beyond her control.  Was this how the world worked once you had stepped out of your small town routine?  Was this the sort of thing that happened? She grinned to herself.  She kind of liked that idea.  Refocusing, she realized that Mark was responding to her and she hadn’t really been listening. 

“…Everyone keeps saying that to me lately…maybe I talk too much,” Mark considered aloud.  

“Maybe you do,” Pam agreed teasingly.  Mark laughed and nodded and was quiet for a while until they reached the parking lot of the diner.  Pam was shocked…the place was packed like it was a normal day… people filled every booth and table, happily eating their food, and the lights were warm and orange against the bright white snowy background.  “Hey look at this!” she exclaimed, holding her arms out in front of her. 

“Told you,” Mark responded.  Pam’s head shook in amazement and she began to make her way across the small stretch of shoveled pavement and toward the front door of the Glider, but Mark was still stationary behind her and couldn’t quite get himself to move.  “Hey Pam?” she paused and looked back at him.  “Can I um…this is probably one of those times when I should shut the hell up, but uh…I guess I thought you were like engaged or something…”  Pam’s face fell and she looked down at the ground beneath her and felt her cheeks burn in discomfort.  “I’m only asking cause Jim’s a good guy and um…I’m just curious,” Mark told her, hoping that somehow that would ease the strangeness of the moment.  She picked her head up and looked back at him with a hint of a twinkle in her eye and his confusion grew.  He did NOT get this Pam person…she was always like smiling to herself and laughing to herself and frowning to herself, and basically she lived inside her own head or something and he just didn’t get it. 

“I’m not,” she told him. And then she sort of glanced off to the side like she couldn’t believe her own ears and the twinkle grew into a smile and she raised her eyebrows.  Mark just stood there…still confused.  “Jim is a good guy…and I’m not engaged,” she repeated to herself, before turning from him and heading inside.  He looked around at the empty street as if it would give him an explanation. 

 “Okay…” he muttered, before resignedly following her into the diner.  He stopped in the doorway and let out a long whistle.  “Mindy you look HOT!” he exclaimed, and Pam took an instinctive step back, reminding herself again that Mark was the one in the lead in this situation.  Mindy, a woman in her sixties, was behind the bar and wearing a dirty white apron over a blue blouse and jeans.  Her curled gray hair was protected by a thin black hair net and she glanced over at Mark while refilling someone’s cup of coffee. 

“Shut up, Mark.  Don’t come in here and upset everyone,” Mindy replied loudly, her words doused with both edge and merriment.  Mark elbowed Pam in the side and pointed. 

“Do you see this? She just told me to shut up,” he stared at Pam in bewilderment and she laughed quietly up at him. 

“Looks like a trend,” she replied.  Mindy set the pot of coffee down and wiped her hands on a towel. 

“Honey don’t associate with him,” she instructed, and Pam’s mouth dropped open in amused shock.  Apparently Mindy was not a fan of Mark. “Come over here and sit down.”  Mindy tapped a hard hand on the counter in front of an empty stool and Pam glanced at Mark before making her way over and hoisting herself onto it.  “Now,” Mindy propped her arms against the counter and sighed,  “who are you and what is such a pretty little thing doing here with this clown?” 

“I’m, um…” 

“Pam, Mindy.  Mindy, Pam.  We want three cheeseburgers to go please.  And fries,”  Mark’s voice came from behind Pam and she opted to watch Mindy through the exchange, biting her lip and trying not to laugh at the way Mindy reeled back in irritation.  

“Cheeseburgers?”  she repeated.  “Mark, take a look at the sign behind me.”  Mark rolled his eyes and sat down next to Pam.  “Look at it, Mark.” He did, though he was hesitant and unenthusiastic.  “What does it say?” she asked him in a voice like a practiced school teacher.  Pam looked over at him. 

“Best roast beef and gravy in Northern Pennsyl…” 

“BEST ROAST BEEF AND GRAVY,” Mindy interrupted.  A few patrons began to chuckle into their coffee cups, apparently used to this exchange.  Mark sighed.  “And you always come in here and order McDonald’s…” 

“I should’ve sent Jim,” he muttered under his breath.   

“Yes you should’ve sent Jim,” Mindy agreed.  After glaring at Mark one last time Mindy returned her attention to Pam.  “Now, don’t let him answer for you, honey.  I’m Mindy.  And you are?”   Pam smiled and sat up a little straighter on the stool. 

“I’m Pam,” she said, extending her hand.  “I’m a friend of Jim’s.”  Mindy hummed and took Pam’s hand, shaking it and raising her eyebrows in appreciation. 

“Well…” she sighed.  Mark cleared his throat, watching Pam’s face turn an embarrassed shade of red.  “Any friend of Jim’s is a friend of mine,” Mindy offered. 

“Table seven’s up!” a voice called from the back, while a hand reached out and practically tossed a plate of eggs and bacon onto the steel metal divider.  Mindy looked over her shoulder and dropped Pam’s hand in annoyance.  She reached back, grabbed the plate, and meandered over to a table where a man was sitting with glasses perched on his nose and with the newspaper spread out in front of him.  She asked if he needed anything else, and when he smiled and said no she made her way back and pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of her apron. 

“Now what can I get for you today, Pam?”  Mindy asked happily.  Pam licked her lips and felt something mischievous tickle her expression. 

“I’ll have the roast beef and gravy.”  Mark groaned and threw his hands up in surrender as Mindy let out a hearty chuckle.  “To go,” Pam added, pleased that she had made Mindy laugh.  “And so will Jim.”  Mindy winked at her. 

“Good girl.  You know we have the best roast beef…” 

“Best roast beef and gravy in northern Pennsylvania, Mindy, yeah we got it,”  Mark interrupted hurriedly.  Mindy pursed her lips.   

“And you?” she asked icily.  Mark leaned forward and smiled at her. 

“Cheeseburger,” he whispered.  “And fries.”  ******************************************************************************************

Sometimes I just have to let it go
Leave all my fears to burn down
Push them all away so I can move on
Closer to my dreams…
 

She tapped on Jim’s bedroom door with hesitant, shaking fingers.  Mark was downstairs watching TV and wolfing down his artery-clogging cheeseburger and fries, the two roast beef sandwiches sitting in Styrofoam on the kitchen counter.  Pam had told him she would see if Jim wanted to come down to eat.  Mark had shrugged his indifference, because apparently Mark was almost always indifferent to everything, Pam was learning.  Unless he was awkwardly asking her about her broken engagement.  Then he was “curious.”  Pam rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that in a second she was going to be standing in front of Jim and she would have to say something…She thought it should be a confession…or an apology for running away from him…or the truth about what had happened to her yesterday and why she had done what she’d done… She stood there and fidgeted and tapped again when there was no response. 

And she waited. 

Still nothing.  Frowning, she turned and glanced at the bathroom, wondering if he was in there and not in his room, but the door stood open and the bathroom was empty.  She turned back to his door and cocked her head in confusion.   

“Jim?” she called.  There was no response and she started to get a little beyond nervous, laying her hand flat against the wood and giving it a shove.  It swung open and she peered inside carefully, hoping not to catch him in some sort of…um… but he was laying on his bed, face up toward the ceiling, eyes closed, knees bent, and his hands covering his forehead like he had an intense headache.  His fingers were partly laced through his hair, and his ipod sat on his stomach, the string of his headphones camouflaged against the white of his shirt.  She could hear the thump of the bass and the vague outline of a melody.  His face looked absolutely pained…tortured…her heart tightened at the sight of it.  Something inside of her wanted to go to him…to lay down next to him and take his hands in hers…to kiss away the tension from around his eyes… 

Kiss away the tension…? Oh man, she was so afraid of whatever this was that was happening, and how totally right it felt.  She cleared her throat and blinked away the moisture that had sort of started to gather in her eyes, taking the few steps it took to bring her to the side of his bed.   

“Jim?” she tried again.  She wasn’t sure why she thought that her terrified whisper would be heard over the music that he seemed to have at top volume.  She licked her lips and repressed another image that floated through her mind of her just laying down next to him and sort of wrapping her arms around…she shook her head a little and reached a timid hand out toward him.  Her fingers brushed delicately over his shoulder, a self-indulgent kind of caress that she could easily explain away as innocent…She wondered as she did it if, like in books she’d read, her touch would automatically ease his pain…heal his wounds…Her fingers danced across the blue fabric at his shoulder and for a moment, a millisecond, she thought she saw his muscles relax…but then he gasped and grabbed her arm like she had attacked him.  His eyes snapped open and his fingers dug into her forearm and she thought that maybe it would leave a mark.  She gasped, too, and held her hands palm up to show him that she wasn’t going to hurt him…she hadn’t meant to hurt him… 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she muttered as he tugged out one of his headphones, and dropped her arm, realizing that it was Pam.  She felt the desire to cry return to her and she sniffed to try to push it down.  “I’m so sorry…” she repeated, glancing down at him in concern.  His breathing was heavy and he watched her with wide eyes, trying to regain control off himself. 

“No…I‘m…” he inhaled a long, slow breath,  “I’m sorry.  Shit, you scared me.”  He wiped his face with both of his hands and sat up completely, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  “Are you ok?” he asked, grasping her wrist gently to look at the damage. 

“It’s fine.  Reminds me of my cheerleading days…”she told him quietly.  He paused and looked up at her in disbelief. 

“You were a cheerleader?” he asked, his voice clearly portraying that he hoped to god that wasn’t true, and his mind flashed to the Booze Cruise and Katy and a lot of things he didn‘t really like to think about. 

“No,” she assured him with a soft smile.  He chuckled.  “Listen…” she started, her voice soft and scared, “I’m um…I’m really sorry for leaving like that…I just, uh…”  She couldn’t finish the thought…wasn’t really sure what had happened besides metaphorical spontaneous combustion, and she looked down at him and without thinking she gave into her urge to touch him…to try to erase the tension she could feel emanating from him…tension she had caused.  It wasn’t a normal reaction for her…but she seemed to be unable to stifle these sorts of things today, if the kitchen was any evidence.   She lifted her hand and smoothed some hair back from his brow, pushing it delicately to the side and then continuing to run her hands through it as if that one touch had fascinated her…as if now she was transfixed and couldn’t let her hand be still.  The backs of her fingers drifted across his forehead and he held his breath, wondering if she realized what she was doing…wondering if she meant to make his heart stop the way it had.  Since she’d left with Mark he had been considering what had happened, and whether or not this was one-sided…and whether or not he had pushed her toward something in the kitchen…and he’d decided that he didn’t think he had.  He closed his eyes and swallowed painfully…trying his best to avoid grabbing her and throwing her down on the bed…trying his best to assure himself that she was ignorant to his feelings and was thoughtless in her affection.  Friends.  They were friends.  He grabbed her wrist with harsh fingers, though not as harsh as the first time he had grabbed her and looked her square in the eye…Looked her in the eye and dared her silently to look away…  

“Pam…” he muttered, but his voice broke on her name and he cleared his throat to rid it of any kind of tears or sleep that might still linger there. His head dropped in defeat and his hand went soft around her arm…his thumb began to trace the vein on the underside of her wrist, and she watched it in fascination, sure that she should be seeing sparks or scarring from the electricity that followed its path.  “What are we doing?  I mean…before in the kitchen, and now…” he asked her quietly, looking up at her with pleading eyes because this was not a game to him…none of this was a game.  She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. 

“I don’t know…” she answered softly.  “I don’t know anything right now.”  She pulled her hand from his and brushed it against the thigh of her jeans.  “I’m sorry,” she apologized again…this time she thought it was for being confused…for having this new life that she wasn’t sure she could handle…for touching him…for complicating things for him… He nodded at her and turned to place his ipod on the bedside table, just for something to do…for something to do other than touch her or hold her or…well, the list went on. 

“I just um…”  He turned back to her and she had taken a few steps away from him and was toying with her necklace with tears of embarrassment and confusion still hanging in her eyes.  He squinted a little and tipped his head at her.  “You have a lot going on right now…changes…and um, none of that is about me, and I get that, ok?” He looked up at her, questioning, making sure she was listening...making sure she didn't mind listening... 

She tensed her jaw to keep herself from shaking her head and telling him he was wrong.  That all of this was very much about him and they would both be lying if they said otherwise…   

“But if it were about me…” he continued,  “I would have some things to say.”  He nodded at his own statement.  “Just…some things…”  Her brow furrowed in question and he sighed, the muscles in his cheek twitching and his stomach flipping in nervousness.  “Like…uh…” he chuckled once because he was so unsure of himself, and he looked down at the carpet because it was easier.  “Like how much you deserve that internship…if that’s what you want.  And like how, um…” he bent over and braced his elbows on his knees, running his fingers through his long unruly hair.  She watched him, fascinated, her heart in her throat.  “How worried I am that all of this is one-sided, and I‘m just like…” it was almost to himself…like if he said it softly enough she might not hear him.   

He cleared his throat and picked up his head to look at her again…to pin her with his gaze.  She chewed on her lower lip and felt the water that had been pooling in her eyes start to drip down her cheeks. 

“…How if you were really in love with Roy…” his words evaporated and he shook his head at her.  “You fought with me about New York, Pam,” he pointed out to her.  “I’ve been thinking about this since you left, you know?  Like what’s going on with us?  Aaand…just…what you’re thinking…and um…I just…” his mouth tilted and he lifted a shoulder. “You didn’t fight Roy, but um…You cared enough to fight with me.”  Pam wiped her cheeks and blinked at him. 

“I know,” she whispered, nodding.   

“And that means something…” he reasoned.  “Doesn‘t it?”  He thought he might‘ve stopped breathing when she slowly nodded at him. 

“I think it does, yeah,” she agreed quietly.  Air escaped his lungs in a whoosh because he felt like she‘d just told him something important…like some part of his life had just fallen into place.  She inhaled a deep breath.  “But um you‘re right…I mean about the changes and the...”   

“We need to take a few steps back from this,” he interrupted, completing the thought for her.  She nodded and gesticulated with her right hand, the other tucked securely around her waist. 

“Yeah just because I need to figure some stuff out…” He nodded. 

“I know,” he told her earnestly. 

“Not Roy though.  That’s…I have that figured out,” she promised.  He smiled at her and stood, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and shifting his weight from one foot to another.  She watched him closely and grabbed her necklace again, feeling the way the gold was smooth against her fingers.  “But other stuff,” she finished awkwardly, intensely aware of him and how he was looking at her…like maybe he could see through her clothes.  He took a step toward her.   

“Right, so we put this on hold,” he agreed quietly.  She nodded.  He took another step. 

“Just until I think through some, um…” she swallowed because he was standing right in front of her and she could smell him and she could feel the energy pouring out of him and her fingers itched to feel his heartbeat like she had before.  She cleared her throat.  “…some things…” she whispered.  He nodded, reaching out to take her necklace from her grasp and placing it back against her throat.  Her hand hung in the air like it was not a part of her body, and she began to breathe erratically with the feel of his fingers against her skin.  He let go of the necklace and flattened his hand against her collar bone, smoothing his palm up and along her skin, finishing with it tucked just beneath her ear.  “Oh God…” she murmured.  He dipped his head and his nose brushed against her cheek, his mouth just barely touching hers.  Her eyes slid closed and she leaned into him, her lips meshing with his…pressing against them…he pulled back and then moved in again, pressing at a different angle.  She didn’t mean for it to, but her tongue snaked out and teased the corner of his mouth, which lifted up in a grin of amusement….and she didn’t mean to, but her teeth gently grazed his lower lip, and she’d been sure from the way that a grunt had escaped him that that would be it…they would be on the bed within seconds…but instead he pulled away from her.  He pulled back and he placed his mouth at her ear and let his breath seep out against her flesh.  Her eyes narrowed in confusion… 

“You let me know when you’ve thought things through…” he whispered.  And just like that he was gone, closing the door behind him in case she needed a second. 

Which…god…she really did…
 

Sometimes it feels like I‘ll never go past here
Sometimes it feels like I‘m stuck, forever and ever…
But I’m going higher
Closer to my dreams
I’m going higher and higher…
I can almost reach…

Say yes.

You know these rules.

You have them inside of your head and they dictate the things that you do…the things that you say…the way that you look at her…

You know these rules.

Say yes.

But now as the situation that helped to create them falls away…

As her life changes…and as your life changes…

What do you do with these rules that dance through your mind like habits, wanting you to follow them?

Do you follow them?

Jim?

Or do you ignore that they exist?…

Do you break them…

Say yes.

************************************************************************************

Saturday was sunny…warm…the snow was piled high and already covered in the dirt of cars moving across it and feet pushing it aside. It had stopped snowing around three o’clock on Friday and now the world was much less a winter wonderland and much more just…the world. But somehow Pam still felt the tickle of childish excitement. She was in Jim’s kitchen again…she seemed to spend a lot of time there…and she was stirring up the ingredients to her mother’s recipe for crab dip. She had been adamant… insistent…promising Jim that if she was going to be borrowing his sofa, and using up his hot water, and eating his food, she would help host his basketball party. He assured her it was weekly and she didn’t need to worry about it…but she argued so forcefully and simultaneously so adorably that he gave in and told her she could host whatever she wanted. That had made her raise her eyebrows in interest and give him a solid once over, and he had turned away with a cough, mumbling something about heading outside to shovel.

So that morning Pam had walked around the corner to a little grocery store and bought some things, and now she was preparing dip and guacamole and melted cheese sauce and a few other things that she thought guys watching sports would like to mindlessly ingest. She was wearing an old oversized hoodie and jeans because Jim had told her it was casual, and she pushed her sleeves up while she stirred, careful not to get any sour cream or cheese on the edges of her sweatshirt. Mark and Jim were in the living room “cleaning up,” which Pam figured actually meant watching TV, and she was glad to have some time alone to just do something mindless. She really enjoyed cooking…it was sort of artistic, when she thought about it, and that made her smile because she might become a graphic designer and she might live in New York City and she might get to call herself an artist in the true sense… She sprinkled some paprika across the top of the dip and lifted it, along with the guacamole and a bowl of chips, carrying them into the living room and setting them down on the coffee table.

“Look at you…” Mark commented dryly. “What a little Betty Crocker.” She adjusted the bowls on top of some magazines and looked around the room with a raised eyebrow.

“Look at you…” she responded, her tone equally unenthused, “Nice clean up job.” It was clear the room hadn’t been touched. Jim laughed and Mark shrugged in indifference…which didn’t surprise Pam at all.

“Whatever, it’s just guys,” he told her, “and you.”

“And the girl next door…” Jim reminded him, and Mark sat up as if he’d been shot.

“Oh shit…I totally forgot…” he exclaimed nervously. Jim glanced at Pam with wide eyes and she bent down to pick up Mark’s day old take-out container, her mouth jerking in concern. “I have to go change.” He took the stairs three at a time and Pam huffed a chuckle because actually she found Mark‘s personality amusing…the way that he was scatterbrained and disorganized, humorously blunt and unapologetically lazy. Jim paid Mark no mind, and instead watched Pam clean up the napkins and plastic bags and dirty dishes that littered the room. They had been good the past twenty four hours…they had been normal. Jim had made a noble and valiant effort to be normal and Pam had followed his lead. If she wanted time to think he was going to give her time to think…even if it killed him…which it probably would…He cocked his head at her.

“Nice shirt,” he told her quietly. She glanced down at herself, mid-motion, and grinned.

“Yeah, right,” she agreed, moving to toss the garbage she’d collected into the trash and place the dishes in the sink, promising herself she would wash them later.

“No, I mean it. I really like it. It’s…uh…I don’t know, cute, I guess.” She froze in the doorway of the kitchen, her grin spreading into a smile. He thought maybe he was blushing, but he couldn’t really tell.

“It’s Roy’s,” she told him, her voice covered with a tinge of sarcasm. She wasn‘t sure why she‘d said that, it wasn‘t really Roy‘s…if it were she wouldn‘t have been wearing it. She thought that maybe she‘d said it to get a reaction out of Jim…and if that was, indeed, her motivation, he didn’t disappoint.

“It‘s awful looking…” he corrected, “it doesn‘t fit you at all.” She laughed at his comeback and he chuckled quietly, happy that he could make her laugh so easily. Her merriment died on her lips, though, as he leaned forward on the sofa and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, accidentally taking his t-shirt halfway off as well…she swallowed at the glance of skin and averted her eyes, her mind replaying little snapshots of fingers and collarbones and lips and kissing and she cleared her throat demurely, reminding herself that they were taking a step back…she was supposed to be figuring things out…things other than like…how much chest hair Jim had or how long his arms were and how much she wanted to be wrapped up in…she cleared her throat for a second time, and he looked up at her curiously and shifted his shoulders, righting his shirt and tamping down his hair. She looked back at him in feigned innocence, and he tossed the hoodie in her direction. She caught it with one hand. “Wear that,” he instructed with a glint of mischief and challenge in his eye. He had to admit, he never really expected her to do it, and wasn’t surprised when she rolled her eyes at him and draped it over the back of a chair, returning to the kitchen to grab the cheese dip. She rolled her eyes because otherwise she probably would’ve done something embarrassing like…cried from the symbolism of it, or jumped on him and just…walking away was easier…

The doorbell rang and it startled both of them. He took a deep breath and announced that he would answer it, not that anyone else was running toward the front hall…

He sighed his frustration with life and pulled the door open.

“Jimmy! Happy Saturday.” Cameron, one of Jim’s many college friends, pushed his way inside and patted Jim on the shoulder as he passed. “Where’s the beer?”

And that was essentially the greeting of the next four guys who arrived. Pam feebly introduced herself to each of them, but none of them had much to say in return because the pre-game was on and their mouths were full of the food she had made, which they apparently thoroughly enjoyed.

“Dude, you’re getting all fancy on us…dips and shit like that? What’s that about, man?” Greg, one of the five frat boys…as Pam chose to call them…was taller than Jim, and wore a backwards baseball cap over his tousled, unruly blonde curls. A total lady killer, Pam assumed. Jim swallowed a mouthful of beer and nodded.

“Thank Pam, she made it.” He pointed at her and she smiled from her perch on the arm of the sofa, unused to being acknowledged in a room full of sports-watching men. Roy and his friends had never thanked her. The closest any of them had ever come was when Darryl had announced that he wanted to “bang whoever made the pie…” Needless to say, Pam had not taken the credit. Greg looked over and waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Pam, you are fancy,” he told her quietly.

“Don’t hit on my friends, Greg. It’s impolite,” Jim warned. Pam winked at Greg and sort of enjoyed the irritated look she got from Jim because of it. She grinned at him, but received no smile in response. Giving in, she winked at Jim too…just to be fair. He laughed.

The guys all turned when an announcer on the television started rehashing an injury that had occurred the week before, and the screen was filled with a slow motion replay of one of the players tripping and basically falling on his face. The announcer called it an “embarrassing moment for any professional ball player.” Then why, Pam wondered, were they replaying it? One of the five frat boys turned and knocked his beer bottle against Jim’s.

“That’s how you play, Jim,” he told him, and Jim’s face twisted in disbelief.

“Thank you. Thanks. Do I really need to remind you of our pickup game last month when you gave yourself a nosebleed?” Jim retaliated. The crowd of guys roared in laughter and agreement, and they all began to talk at once, reliving fouls and injuries from the games they played together at the Scranton YMCA. The doorbell rang, but nobody heard it, so Pam stood and made her way to the door. Pulling it open, her jaw dropped in surprise.

“Whoa…” Kevin croaked. “What are you doing here…” Pam recovered from her shock quickly and smiled at her coworker.

“Just hanging out, Kevin. Come on in.” She gestured into the house, and Kevin hesitated, glancing out of the corner of his eye.

“This is weird…” he whispered, as if Pam wasn’t standing right in front of him and listening. She tipped her head to the side and sighed as Kevin moved past her into the room.

“YES Kev, fantastic timing. Settle a bet for me…” Pam heard Jim yell happily. She shut the door and wondered exactly how long she had until Kevin was totally aware of what she was doing at Jim’s house…knew all the details of the breakup…and editorialized with something dirty and raunchy and very untrue. She closed her eyes and hoped fervently that she might get through the afternoon without Roy being mentioned and without anyone commenting on her suitcase that was sitting neatly in the corner of the room. She heard footsteps on the stairs and turned, smiling at Mark’s Dockers and button down shirt.

“Look at you,” she muttered, “All shined up like you’re a GQ model or something.” Mark huffed out a laugh of nervous uncertainty, raising his eyebrows in her direction. She smiled because she knew that he had taken her compliment to heart…that he had needed to hear it. She couldn’t help feeling like she was rapidly fitting into the routine of the house and the camaraderie that went along with it. He paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Look at you,” he parroted, “answering the door and shit…” He turned from her and headed into the living room. She followed him, grinning in response and rolling her eyes at Jim as he handed her an open bottle of beer. She took a mouthful and let it roll around on her tongue because she liked the way the carbonation fizzled there. “I mean I know you live here now but you aren’t the fuckin’ door man,” Mark finished loudly, popping a guacamole-laden chip into his mouth. Pam found that the beer wouldn’t quite make it down her throat as Kevin turned to look at Jim in confusion and amusement.

“Pam lives here?” he questioned on timid and cracking vocal chords. Jim lifted his eyebrows and stayed silent as Pam began to cough through the beer that had somehow begun to choke her. Jim handed her a napkin and glanced at Mark sharply.

“Dude, you have the worst timing on the face of the planet. Has anyone ever told you that?” Jim asked in a harsh whisper. Mark looked around thoughtfully, unsure what had just happened.

“Yeah, all the time…why?” he wondered. Jim nodded pointedly.

“Where’s Roy?” Kevin asked, turning back to Pam, who was now trying to mop up the beer she had spilled all down the front of her Marywood sweatshirt. She focused…she rubbed at the stains with the napkin in her hand but they were just there and she wasn’t sure what she should do…how she should answer him…what exactly she wanted to say to someone who was not a stranger…but still really, really strange. She felt an odd sort of frustration building inside of her and she did not want to talk about any of this. She’d had no idea Kevin was even coming or she could’ve prepared herself better…suddenly all of the decisions she had made and all of the new things she thought she was becoming were gone, pulled from her, and she was the same old Pam that Kevin knew instead of the new Pam she‘d gotten used to seeing in Jim‘s eyes when he looked at her…and that made her want to die a little bit. She didn’t look up and felt her cheeks burn and her eyes water from the discomfort of the moment. She could feel Jim’s stare.

“Kevin…” Jim tried quietly.

“Is he living here too?” Kevin questioned, “Threesome…” he mumbled, mostly for his own enjoyment. He chuckled to himself, and Pam finally tore the sweatshirt off in frustration, revealing a clean white tee shirt that hadn’t been touched by the beer, and announcing that she was going to go wash out the stains in her hoodie. She disappeared up the steps and Jim scratched at his forehead and sighed.

“That’s nice, Kev,” he commented, but when Kevin’s facial expression didn’t change Jim expelled a lungful of air and bit the bullet. “They broke up,” he informed Kevin quietly, glancing around and thanking the gods above that nobody else at the party was paying any attention…even Mark had gotten bored and was glued to the basketball game. Kevin nodded slowly at Jim and maintained a sort of sly, weasel-like grin, and Jim knew Kevin’s one track mind was still distracted by Pam’s strip-tease, however un-sexy it had been and however inappropriate it was to be distracted by it. Jim rolled his eyes and finished off his beer.

“Nice…” Kevin muttered.

*****************************************************************************************

Pam had returned, recovered, having instructed herself that Kevin didn’t have the power to strip her of the new things she’d become. And so she had just kept her distance from him for the rest of the afternoon, instead mingling with the frat boys and joking with Mark and Jim. Kevin didn’t even notice Pam’s behavior, and happily left after the game had ended, explaining that he had to meet Stacey for dinner. Pam waved politely and said she would see him on Monday, crossing her arms to shield her body from the coldness of the open front door. Greg reached behind him and retrieved Jim’s hoodie, holding it out to her unknowingly. She stared at him.

“Here,” he told her, after a while, re-extending his arm. Pam glanced at Jim who was standing with his back to her at the door, saying goodbye to Kevin and rehashing one of the more exciting moments of the game. Pam shrugged at herself, deciding it didn’t really mean anything anyway, and she was freezing in only her t-shirt and jeans. She thanked Greg and pulled the sweatshirt over her head.

She immediately corrected her thoughts when Jim’s scent swam around her and she realized that even though it meant nothing to Jim…she guessed that wasn’t really the case for her. Whatever, she thought in irritation, he’d never know she was having girlish thoughts, and she was allowed to indulge her senses for one evening. He probably wouldn’t even notice she was wearing it. She inhaled deeply and smiled, enjoying the way the sleeves were too long and the fabric was all-encompassing around her. She got up and went to the kitchen, deciding to make more food for the post-basketball poker game that was starting to develop because she wasn’t any good at five card draw or Texas hold ’em, and the feelings buzzing around inside of her made her want to do something artistic. Since she didn’t think setting up her easel would go over well, she settled for cooking some more.

Finally about forty five minutes later she reentered the now lamp-lit living room with a plate of ten sandwiches and a bowl full of easy mac. She reached around from behind Jim to set them down on the coffee table, careful not to disturb the deck of cards, and set down some paper plates and silverware beside them. The guys whistled and applauded and ignored their cards to dig in, and Pam’s smiling eyes met Mark’s from across the table. Her grin faltered as she realized that Mark looked disappointed and a little bit chagrined, and she realized that the girl from next door hadn‘t shown. She tipped her head at him and he shrugged, glancing at his watch and then back up at Pam with a half smile. She felt a pang of something and wondered what exactly this girl was like to have Mark so invested. It seemed like he didn’t get invested in much. Mark visibly shook it off and reached into the pile of scrambling hands to claim a turkey and cheese sandwich as Pam refocused to stare at Jim’s cards. She pressed her hand against his back and felt him tense slightly.

“I think you should just fold, Halpert,” she teased, and the men laughed and agreed through mouthfuls of food. Jim paused with a forkful of macaroni halfway to his lips and turned, the look on his face clearly portraying a mixture of amusement and irritation. Pam tried to swallow her smile, but wasn’t very successful, her lips twisting and finally giving in. Jim’s eyes swept over her.

“Thanks for the tip, Beesly,” he responded. And she felt something twist hard inside of her with the way his gaze studied her torso and the way that his sweatshirt was hanging there, just a little bit longer on her than hers had been earlier…and she stood, afraid to move or breathe because she didn’t really want to lose the heat of his stare, and she felt herself sway a bit on her feet when his eyes met hers. He looked at her pointedly and shook his head at her a little, almost scolding her. Not fair, he told her silently. This is not fair. Any trace of a smile was gone from her lips and she looked back at him blankly, afraid to comment and embarrassed that he could sense what wearing the sweatshirt did to her…meant to her. He looked down again, taking in her closeness and the way that she was in his house and in his space and in his clothes, and he reached up a hand to sort of finger the bottom edge of the sweatshirt. His touch brushed her thigh and she watched, fascinated, vaguely registering that nobody else was even noticing this exchange. To her it felt like an earthquake. To her it felt like the world.

The doorbell rang.

Pam took a step back from Jim’s roaming fingers and proclaimed that she would get it, avoiding his gaze and bending down to scoop up some empty beer bottles, thinking she should toss them into the recycling bin since she was headed in that direction. She turned and moved toward the door, sighing out her awareness of Jim and shaking out her shoulders to expel the way that she was tense with wanting something from him… She cleared her throat and pulled open the door.

“Hi,” the girl who was standing there muttered awkwardly. Pam smiled.

“Hi, are you here for Mark?” she asked, propping the door open with her leg as the girl nodded. Pam juggled the beer bottles so that she had a hand free, and stuck it out in the girl‘s direction. “I’m Pam,” she introduced. The girl shook her hand and grinned.

“I’m Sue,” she answered. Pam nodded, thinking that Mark hadn’t lied…Sue was tall. At least six feet tall and strikingly, gorgeously Asian, her long black hair tied up into a silky looking ponytail. “I’m so sorry I’m late, I had to take a friend to the airport last minute and I‘m just so bad with being on time anyway that the combination has me here…um…now instead of earlier.” she grimaced and wiped her hands on her faded jeans. “I hope it’s ok…” Pam waved a hand at her in dismissal, noting the way that Sue’s rich alto hung in the air long after she had finished speaking and the way that everything she said was said with an undercurrent of conviction that Pam envied. Sue bent down and picked up a six pack of Heineken that had been sitting at her feet. “Mark told me to bring beer,” she explained, holding it out to Pam. Pam just motioned that Sue should come in and chuckled.

“Well then nobody will even notice that you’re late. Do you play poker?” she asked, as Sue stepped inside and shrugged out of her coat.

“Not really,” she muttered, her voice tinged with an apology as she hung her coat on the rack and looked back at Pam. Pam grinned.

“Good, neither do I.” Her hands still full of empty bottles, Pam led Sue into the living room and waved to get everyone’s attention. “Guys this is Sue, Sue this is…a bunch of people that I pretty much just met today, but make yourself at home.” Sue laughed down at her and nodded. “Mark, you wanna show her where to put the beer?” Pam added, watching the way that Mark’s mouth had dropped open and he was frozen on the sofa in shock. He was jolted into action at Pam’s question and led Sue into the kitchen with a hand on her back, muttering something about her tardiness. She promptly told him to shut up and Pam smiled, thinking they seemed like a good pairing to her. Turning back to the group, Pam held up the bottles and tipped her head toward the door. She didn’t look at Jim for fear of…she wasn’t exactly sure what, and turned her back on the room, heading toward the recycling bin on the front porch.

She flicked the outside light on and left the door hanging open behind her as she ventured out toward the corner of the porch and dropped in the bottles with a noisy clatter. Just as they left her grasp and hit plastic, the light above her head went out and she frowned in surprise, the porch around her draped suddenly in shadow. She heard the door close and turned in confusion just as Jim pushed her up against the railing and wrapped his arms around her waist, attacking her mouth with his and pressing his pelvis against her urgently. His movements were hungry and heated, and she responded in kind, weaving her hands through his hair and not really having the time to question his motivation.

Her tongue pressed into him and she leaned back so that she was half sitting against the railing, her stomach knotting with his heat and the size of his hands against her back. His torso was hard and solid against her and she moaned slightly as he moved to press open-mouthed kisses against her neck, his hips settling deliciously between her thighs.

“Nice shirt,” he whispered breathlessly, his hands snaking up underneath it to tease the skin at her waist. His voice against her neck made her shiver and she pulled her teeth against the shell of his ear, her mouth lazy and panting.

“I was cold,” she whispered back, her hands scratching at his t-shirt covered back and her hips shifting slightly to find a better angle. He grunted with the contact and his hands moved, lightening-like, to toy with the clasp of her bra. “Greg noticed and gave me…” His mouth slammed against hers and he tried desperately to suck the name from her tongue… If he had had the brain power to analyze the reaction he would’ve known that it was because Greg had stolen at least two of Jim’s previous girlfriends with his Ambercrombie-good-looks and his light-hearted charm. But at the moment he was too distracted by the sounds she was making to care… Jim’s tongue teased the ridges of her teeth and his left hand snaked down to grip her back pocket and tug her closer to him. She crossed her wrists and let her hands drift downward, unconsciously mirroring his position, and her fingers, too, slipped into the back pockets of his jeans. She pressed against him and he relinquished her mouth because he couldn’t stand the flashes of red hot desire coursing through him. He panted against her hair and licked her taste from his lips.

“Jesus…” he breathed. She pulled her mouth along his jaw line and his eyes slid closed. “This is killing me…” His head tipped back and she licked gently at the pulse in his throat.

“What do you mean?” she asked coquettishly, pushing her hands further into his pockets and pushing him against her again, a slice of white-heat coursing through her as she felt him long and hard between her denim covered thighs.

“Shit,” he rasped, tugging on the sweatshirt she was wearing and ripping it off over her head. Her hair was messy and unruly around her shoulders and he grinned down at the sight that she made, all flushed and sexy and breathless. His head dipped and his mouth danced just in front of hers, not unlike the way he had teased her the day before, his lips brushing only slightly…gently…against hers. She let out a sound of frustration and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down toward her and letting her tongue taste the few bites of macaroni and cheese he’d eaten earlier. He rocked his hips against her, but contradicted the motion by pulling his mouth away. “Wait aren‘t we supposed to be, um…you‘re supposed to be thinking through some things…”

WHAT?! he thought angrily. Why had he said that? This was going in an excellent direction, and he had to open his mouth and voice her doubts out loud for her... Pam just looked back at him, and he was frustrated with his inability to read the look on her face…but then her hands left his neck and drifted down his chest, snaking along his muscles, through his shirt, and letting her nails leave a tingling trail behind them… She didn’t stop until she was lightly gripping the belt hanging low around his hips, and she looked up at him, her face just as blank as before. He swallowed.

“I don’t care,” she murmured, her fingers unclasping the belt and deftly unbuttoning the button beneath it. He stared down at her hands in disbelief…who knew Pam could be so bold?…and he vaguely registered the way that his chest was heaving with arousal.

“What are you doing?” he whispered hazily. She raised an eyebrow at him as she unzipped his zipper and reached inside his jeans. Her fingers drifted over him and he hissed, leaning forward to brace himself against the railing beside her with one hand and reaching down to grab her wrist with the other. “Don’t…” he instructed her, even as his mouth danced across her ear, sending delicious shivers down her spine. She sighed out her desire and confusion.

“Why?” she whispered back, not moving, but letting his fingers tease the veins in her wrist and letting his mouth tease the veins in her throat.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” he told her, still a little bit angry at himself for not acting like the guy he was in this situation. Mark would kill him if he ever found out… But there was something about her jerking him off on the front porch while all his friends were inside that was a little too freshman year of college to satisfy him deep down. He wanted them to do this like adults…to treat each other with more respect than this… not that the front porch wasn’t going to become a delicious new fantasy for him, but still, it didn’t suit their first time together. He pressed a kiss against her lips and looked down at her, his gaze heavy with arousal and apology. She nipped gently at his lower lip and he rolled his eyes at her, leaning away a little bit more. “I mean it, I shouldn’t have started this…” She exhaled heavily and pulled her hands back, moving to place them lightly against his chest and nodding in agreement.

“Ok you’re right…you’re right. We’re supposed to be holding off…” He blew air out of pursed lips and wrapped his arms around her, careful to keep his pelvis a safe distance away… He would have to go upstairs and take care of his, uh…situation, but he didn’t’ care…it had been sooo worth it, and he was sure backing off would be worth it in the long run. He thought he was mostly sure, anyway…

Seeing her in his sweatshirt had caused an incessant pulse of pure lust to pump through his veins, and he couldn’t control the way that he’d tossed his cards down and followed her outside…the way that he’d practically attacked her on the porch…the way that right now he wanted to just pull her upstairs with him and push himself inside of her. He rubbed her back and slammed his eyes shut tight, begging himself to stay in control.

“It’s just that,” she murmured into his shoulder, the palms of her hands warm against his back, “it’s never been like this for me before…” He swallowed and told himself to ignore the way that that made his heart stop a little. “This is really intense…like I just want to um…” He nodded against her hair.

“Yeah I know, me too,” he agreed, pressing a kiss on the side of her forehead. She pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes, her expression warm and a little bit hazy and her lips pink and swollen from his kisses.

“But you’re right…having sex on the front porch would be a little bit, um...” Her unenthusiastic smile told him that she was just as frustrated as he was with the situation, and he chuckled at her expression.

“If you’d just try to be a little bit less attractive then we wouldn’t have the problem of me attacking you on the porch and getting us both all hot and bothered,” he suggested, toying with the hair at her shoulders and smiling at the shocked laugh that escaped her.

“Sorry, but if you still find me attractive in a huge sweatshirt and jeans with no makeup then I’m not sure what I can do for you,” she reasoned. He smiled and gave her a much more chaste kiss than he had so far, his lips pressing warmly against hers. She sighed into it and let her eyes slide closed in contentment. When he pulled away she blinked up at him. “I still can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered, her throat feeling a little bit tight like she might cry. He grinned and reached down to button his pants and rebuckle his belt.

“Yeah me neither.” He bent over and retrieved his sweatshirt from the ground, tossing it at her as he backed away and headed for the front door. She caught it and grinned at him. “You can keep that…it looks way better on you,” he told her. “I’ll be upstairs.” She nodded and he paused, his hand on the doorknob. The look on his face turned from resigned to determined and he walked back over to her and gripped her face with his hands, bending down to kiss her again. She chuckled against his mouth and kissed him back, still considering how much this felt like some sort of waking dream. He pulled his lips away and looked down at her, and the merriment of her laughter fell away at the look of mild anxiousness on his face. She tilted her head and frowned at him, worried that she had done something wrong…said something wrong. He exhaled and searched her face with his eyes. “Pam…” he began. She clutched at his sweatshirt that was pressed between them and waited. “I know I said that thing about how I had a crush on you but how that was three years ago and I was over it and um…” he cleared his throat… “clearly that was a lie, because I’ll never be over, uh…anything…about you…” He pierced her with his eyes and she felt the air in her lungs leave her and she got a little bit light headed with the intensity of the look on his face. “I’m serious about this, and I just wanted to let you know in case you’re just, I don’t know…like rebounding, or…” She interrupted him by placing her fingers against his lips and shaking her head.

“I’m not rebounding,” she promised him adamantly. His eyes filled with moisture and he pursed his lips against her fingers, pressing a kiss there. Her chest tightened. “I’m not.” She dropped her hand and replaced it with her mouth, kissing him tenderly and promising him again silently that she was serious, too. He broke away and leaned back, pushing the hair away from her face carefully.

“Ok,” he told her in a tone that was meant to finish the conversation. He pressed another quick kiss against her forehead and retreated into the house, leaving her to lift his sweatshirt up and press it to her face. She inhaled and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him, before she opened the hoodie up and pulled it back on. She thought idly that she would give it back to him at the end of the night, because if she kept it and continued to wear it, it would start to smell like her and stop smelling like him…and that just wasn’t right, she decided adamantly. That wouldn’t be right.

******************************************************************************************

Wake up.

You ask the universe, what is life?

Who should you be?

Where are you meant to go?

You ask these things of the universe.

Wake up.

And in your dreams you know the answers.

In your dreams you hear the universe respond in whispers

With hints of who you are inside.

In your dreams you are the most awake

And awake, you are asleep…

Wake up, Pam. Wake up.

Caught here

Tied down

Spider web tethered and reminded of my fears.

And so I look in the mirror like that might give me answers and tell me which path is truly mine

Am I the woman I was…

Or the woman I imagine I have become?

Stuck here

Laid out before you

Refusing to define you in the way that I have before.

And so you stare down at me with blood shot eyes and you question my motives

Am I the woman I was…

Or the woman you imagine I should be?

And so, I cry out,

Am I you?

Or am I me?

******************************************************************************************

“Are you kidding me right now? You are. This is like a part of your personality that I don’t know about yet where you tell flat out lies,” Pam grinned around her bite of pizza and laughed at Mark’s tone of voice…his utter incredulity, and she sort of wished that Jim wasn’t upstairs showering and changing his clothes, only because she was having a great time…and if he were there it would just be that much better. Their workday had been good…calm and normal and pleasant and nobody had mentioned her breakup and she didn’t really care why. She was just glad that Jim was eating the jelly beans at her desk, and relieved that Roy hadn’t shown his face, and amused that Jim had shot her glances when Michael made his speech about equality and vegetarians (which none of them had really understood), and proud that she still felt different…even in the office…even answering the phones. She smiled exasperatedly at Mark and felt like she knew who she was.

“It’s not a lie!” she exclaimed. Mark’s eyebrows quirked in mock agreement. She chuckled. “He looked me right in the eye and I heard him say ‘Don’t eat that…’” she explained after swallowing the bite of pizza and wiping her mouth with a napkin. Mark looked at her and she waved her hand in front of her, like a shrug. “Hey, I believed you when you said Greg can jump his bike over a car without killing himself,” she argued. He huffed out a laugh.

“Ok but you believed that because that’s true. That’s actually been done. Unlike the lie that your dog…your dog, Pam…Okay? Are you listening to yourself? You’re saying that your DOG talked to you. See why I don’t believe that?” he asked. She stared back at him and tipped her head in consideration. “Because that’s a lie,” he explained, swallowing almost half of his slice of pizza and grabbing another from the box in front of them. She bit her cheek to keep from grinning too wide. Okay, so it was a lie, but she just wanted to see him get all angry and out of sorts over it…which was exactly what was happening.

“I see where you’re coming from, but here’s my evidence…” she began.

“Oh come on…” he interrupted, taking a large bite of his new slice.

“Here’s my evidence! Just listen, cause I thought it was crazy too, you know? Like, my dog was not talking to me. There was no way. So I just ate the yogurt…and, this is not a joke, I was throwing up for two days,” she finished proudly. He sat and stared at her, laughter bubbling just under the surface. She leaned toward him earnestly. “He was right!” she explained excitedly. Mark rolled his eyes and chewed his second piece of pizza. “You still don’t believe me.”

“No, I don’t,” he confirmed. “You think you’re like the dog psychic or whatever from Animal Planet?” he asked her, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“No, I’m just saying that maybe that guy isn’t a fake. Maybe in desperate situations…” she faded into silence at Mark’s laughter and stood, tossing her hands up and turning toward the kitchen. “Whatever. Jim would believe me,” she told him. He hummed in agreement.

“Yeah I bet he would,” he muttered, and she glared at him over her shoulder.

“Watch it,” she warned. He laughed again and she thought that maybe she’d found something in this house…maybe she’d found friends and freedom and comfort… “Want a beer?” she asked. The doorbell rang and she glanced in the direction of the front hall, but opted to retrieve the drinks while Mark answered that, since she figured it was Sue anyway. She ducked into the refrigerator and perused her options, hoping to find something light.

“I’ll get it,” Mark announced, standing and brushing his jeans back into place, “and yes to the beer.” Pam nodded and grabbed two Heinekens because there weren’t any lights left. “Always yes to beer,” Mark promised from the front hall. Pam grinned.

Mark pulled the door open sort of wondering if his pizza-grease-covered fingers were going to mess up the brass door handle, but he decided he didn’t really care, and returned his attention to the person standing in the doorway. He frowned.

“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing the guy up and down…taking in the way he was swaying on his feet a little and the way that his mouth was set into what looked like a permanent frown. “Can I help you?” The man perused Mark and scratched at his head.

“Uh…yeah,” the guy muttered. “I’m looking for Pam,” he explained a little inarticulately. Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise and glanced over his shoulder as Pam emerged from the kitchen with two beers in her hand. She moved toward the hall and froze, her face going a little bit pale and her mouth dropping open like the air was being sucked out of her by forces totally beyond her control. Mark turned to her and crossed his arms.

“Roy…” Pam whispered through shock-clogged vocal cords.

“Pam, you know this guy?” Mark asked, blocking Roy’s entrance into the house, just in case. Pam nodded at him mutely and forced a false kind of smile that left a hollow feeling in Mark’s gut. He definitely didn’t like something about this. He turned back to Roy and lifted his chin at him…leveled him with his eyes…tried his best to seem intimidating and impatient as he swung the door open further and stepped back, insinuating that Roy should enter. He did, his work boots heavy on the floor of the house, and his lack of a coat seeming strange to Mark since it was like thirty degrees out, and only helping to add to the feeling of unease that had already lodged itself in his chest. Mark slammed the door shut, and Roy turned toward him in surprise. Mark smiled.

“Sorry, it slipped,” he explained with a shrug. Roy huffed and shook his head in irritation, deciding he didn’t like this jerk any more than he liked Halpert…which was not at all… But he wasn’t here to deal with Jim or Jim‘s friends…he was here to deal with Pam. She turned and he followed her into the living room and planted his hands on his hips, watching as she tidied up the mess of an open pizza box and napkins and beer bottles. He tensed his jaw because she was just avoiding looking at him and they both knew it. He heard Mark come into the room behind him and tensed even further…these people were really pushing his buttons. His voice was low and angry when he spoke.

“You mind giving us the room, man?” Roy questioned, and Pam’s head sprung up from staring down at the coffee table and she eyed Mark in pleading panic. Mark looked back at her, trying to give her some of his calm…trying to give her some of the things that he was conjuring up like magic tricks …ease…strength…sturdy disobedience to whatever rules Roy seemed to be silently laying down. But she just tipped her head at him…toward the door, like asking him to leave, and he was filled with surprise…filled with shock that she would allow this guy to get what he wanted. Mark sighed.

“Are you sure?” he muttered to her.

“Did you hear me wrong?” Roy asked, finally turning to Mark and taking a step toward him. Mark did not move…did not cower, simply fixing his gaze on Pam and asking her silently what he should do. Pam nodded at him and smiled in that certain way, and Mark felt himself get a little bit angry with her. He thought he knew what Jim meant when he said that sometimes he wanted to yell at her…ask her what she was thinking…

“It’s fine, Mark,” Pam promised, “Roy and I need to talk.” He was sure she thought she sounded convincing…he was sure she thought she seemed sturdy and calm…but Mark wasn’t convinced. He got the distinct feeling, however, that this was not a fight he was going to win, so he nodded his consent and turned his focus to Roy, chewing on the inside of his cheek and crossing his arms defensively.

“See you later, man…” he mocked, the consonants of the last word punching against his lips, and Roy bristled a little, glancing at Pam as if expecting her to bristle too. Mark watched as she looked down at the ground…not bristling…but not backing Mark up either…he frowned at her in confusion. “Pam, I’m just gonna go for a walk around the block…” he told her, hoping to get something from her…some evidence of the past four days and the way that she normally said so much to him in a glance. He tilted his head.

“Ok,” Pam agreed a little too quickly, her eyes still on the ground, and Mark exited by slamming the door again, hoping that that would rouse Jim’s suspicions and get him downstairs to deal with whatever this was. Mark had heard of Roy…nothing good…and he didn’t like the person Pam had just been…the way that she was void of sincerity and had lost the strength that was usually in her step and the twinkle that was usually in her eye. He sighed as he headed toward the Glider, deciding that he’d have a coke and then go back…just in case.

Pam crossed her arms and stared at Roy, pushing her anger down because she knew it wouldn’t get her anywhere with him, and she thought hazily that he seemed drunk and that he smelled like beer. She could feel the emotions that had been living on her surface for the past four days bury themselves deep down in the core of her…deep enough that Roy couldn’t find them and claim them and tell her that she belonged to him. She promised herself silently, before he said anything, that she owned these things that were deep down in the core of her…she owned them…she existed in them. She cleared her throat and planted her feet.

“What are you doing here, Roy?” she asked, a tinge of adolescent impatience coloring her words. He squinted at her and shifted.

“What am I doing here?” he repeated. She nodded and tossed her hair back and off of her shoulders. “What am I doing here…what am I doing here…” he started to pace the length of the room and she imagined that he was a tiger locked in a cage…she could feel his anger building, but it didn’t really affect her because she was used to it, and because she had learned not to be bothered. It didn’t really affect her because she knew what was coming and she knew she didn‘t have any control over it. She licked her lips and sighed. “What the hell are you doing here, Pam?” He turned to her. “You got all mad and threw your tantrum or whatever and I thought you went to your mother’s for the weekend…your mother’s… just a trip or something for the weekend, to clear your head…” his words faded away and he stared at her…hard…edgy…his face turning red, and his feet carrying him toward her until he was standing directly in front of her, the toes of his boots pushing up against her socks. She didn’t move…didn’t really breathe…and his voice was menacingly low when he spoke. “Then I find out from some idiot in your office that you‘re…living…with…” he rubbed his eyes with one hand, sucking in an emotion filled breath and letting it out with a little bit of a groan, and she decided that he had indeed been drinking…a lot… “Jim Halpert?” he hissed, dropping his hand and letting the intensity of his stare seep into her.

She pressed her tongue against the ridge of her bottom teeth, hoping that that would keep her from doing the wrong thing…making the wrong move…and she fixed her gaze onto the front of his shirt, refusing to allow him to stare her down.

“Look at me, Pam…” he warned. She still silently refused, biting down on her tongue because she knew that refusing was the wrong thing to do, but she did it anyway because that little part of her demanded it…that part deep down inside of her insisted…that part of her didn‘t care what Roy wanted... “LOOK AT ME, DAMN-IT!” The volume of his voice brought tears to her eyes and she stood up a little bit straighter…

Different, she thought to herself, licking at her lips and praying that she wouldn’t start to cry, you have these things…these new things…you’re a different person now…

And she tried to imagine Jim’s eyes when he looked at her…the way that he smiled at her and told her that she should do what makes her happy…the way that he wanted her to be good and the way that he wanted to be good for her…She tried so hard to remember Jim…but as Roy reached out and grabbed her arm…tight…she forgot…she tried so hard…but for a second she just forgot like it had never been there…and the tears started to leak out of her eyes and drip down her cheeks, and some of the strength left her spine.

“You’re drunk,” she accused in a tight, tear choked whisper. He wrapped his free hand around the back of her neck, and it was in moments like this that she realized how large he truly was. Remember who you are, she pleaded with herself, even her thoughts now draped in mechanical tears that were being shed more for how distant she felt from herself than for the pain that he was inflicting on her. Roy was spitting words into her face…saying things to her about how she had to come back home with him and that he would forgive her and that she needed to apologize, and his hands were solid against her, and she almost gave in…but then a hum started up deep down in her stomach…a pulse…a buzz…and she felt it spread and she told herself to be different…to feel different…

Can you hear this, Pam?

And she heard Jim’s footsteps on the stairs.

Her free hand lifted almost of its own accord and she hit Roy‘s left cheek…hard…knocking him off balance and forcing him to let her go, the blow sending a searing pain through her arm that immediately replaced the ache of the bruises he had left behind…She thought she preferred the searing pain. Except the punch hadn’t really succeeded in moving him at all, just in getting him to relinquish his hold on her, and he recovered fast and angry, lifting his arm and back-handing her across the face, the force practically tossing her onto the sofa. She landed hard against the cushions and blinked and shook her head…trying to clear it of the confusion brought from the blow. Roy had never hit her like that…not even drunk…and when she refocused Jim was standing in front of her…

“Get the fuck out of the way or I’ll kill you, Halpert,” Roy threatened angrily. Jim lifted his left hand slowly, pointing out that he was holding an open cell phone.

“You don’t want me to call the cops right now, Roy. You really don’t want that.” Jim felt a strange sort of self-assuredness settle into him…a strange sort of calm…sure that the fear he usually felt when faced with Roy Anderson would not help Pam…and that was all he really wanted to do.

Jesus…he thought breathlessly…he knew Roy was an asshole, but he had no idea…

He swallowed and told himself not to think about it. Roy licked his lips and his eyes flicked from Pam to Jim and back again, and Pam could see the realization settle over him that this was a lost cause…he tightened the muscles in his jaw and met her unwavering gaze. She looked back at him calmly, pushing off of the sofa and standing because it made her feel more like the woman she was, and he huffed out a disgusted laugh, shaking his head at her.

“Fuck you, Pam,” he spat. She tilted her head at him and stepped past Jim because standing behind someone else wasn’t good enough…relying on someone else wasn’t good enough. She stepped in front of Jim and crossed her arms defiantly. Roy swept his gaze over her and licked his lips again. “I wasted ten years on you.” His bitterness dripped from his tongue, and Pam knew for certain that on Thursday he hadn’t thought she was sincere…he hadn’t believed she was leaving him until this moment…she lifted her chin unapologetically and water filled his eyes, the anger seeping out of him in an instant, like it always did when he’d been drinking. She almost felt sorry for him. “I’m sorry…” he whispered. She felt tears fill her own eyes but refused to let them fall, shrugging a little bit and shaking her head because there was nothing for her to say. She was different now, and she didn’t forgive him. The silence was heavy, and Roy felt oppressed by it…so oppressed that he was moved to try to embrace her. He took a step forward and lifted a hand…

“You can leave,” Jim interrupted, freezing Roy in place. Glancing at Jim, he nodded…resigned…depressed…realizing that a line had been drawn that could never be crossed. He looked Pam in the eye again and breathed out another apology, wiping at his cheeks and feeling like he had just lost everything that made him a man. Pam bit her cheek and simply stood, statuesque…refusing to save him from himself like she had done so many times before. Jim cleared his throat and looked past Roy to the hall where Mark was standing…watching…waiting for some sort of signal that he should act. “Mark, you want to show him out?” Jim asked. Mark nodded.

“Glad to,” he agreed. Roy turned and looked at Mark, surprised by his presence, and then turned back to Pam…needing something from her…needing her to make him feel like a person…

“Pam…” he tried. She held up a hand and silenced him.

“Please just go, Roy.”

He stepped away from her and nodded…feeling betrayed…feeling the emptiness of what his life was now…feeling the alcohol he had drunk that afternoon pushing at his temples. He turned around and walked out of the house and down the street without looking back.

And that was how Roy Anderson finally left Pam Beesly.

There’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth

There’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt

It’s still a little hard to say…

What’s going on.

“Pam?” It was because she hadn’t moved since the door had closed…it was because she was standing fixed…still…trance-like and heavy…it was because anything else seemed disrespectful to the silence… He voiced her name and it was because he wasn‘t sure he had it in him to conjure up any more than that. She blinked out a thin trail of tears and licked at her bottom lip, standing with one hand on her hip and one hand dangling at her side as if she’d just run a marathon…and Jim thought maybe that was what she had done, metaphorically speaking. Mark shifted uncomfortably on his feet…unsure and palpably wanting to do something to help. Jim inhaled a deep breath and tried again. “Pam…” And finally she met his gaze.

“I need to take a walk…” she forced out, her voice thick with weariness and tears and both men just nodded at her…simply wanting to let her have whatever it was that she needed. Jim took a step forward but she lifted the hand from her hip and shook her head at him. “I just really need to…” her words evaporated and she tried again, not wanting to shut him out…but needing to mourn the loss of something…needing to be allowed to own her isolation. She tried again. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she promised them, making it clear that this was a walk she meant to take alone. So neither of them moved when she left the room. And neither of them moved when she shrugged into her coat. And neither of them moved when she pulled on her sneakers and walked out the door into the winter night.

The door swung closed.

“Fuck…” Mark sighed, bending at the waist and bracing his hands on his thighs. Jim pursed his lips, thinking that maybe they’d all just run a marathon. Jim certainly felt like he had…but he’d been feeling that way since Friday, so he wasn’t sure it counted. “I mean, fuck!…Right?” Mark’s ability to cut through tension was uncanny, and his exclamation made the house feel a little bit back to normal…his exclamation shook the shadow of Roy off the walls. Jim grinned at him.

“That was crazy,” he agreed, the vowels wide in his mouth. Mark stood upright and wiped his hands across his face as if waking himself from a dream.

“I mean…she just hit him,” he emphasized, stepping toward Jim in enthusiasm. “Total Muhammad Ali. Just like…left hook…BAM!” Jim just watched, bemused, as Mark mock punched the air in front of him, pushing up his sleeves and shaking his fists in victory. “That was crazy!”

“That’s what I said,” Jim agreed.

“Oh my GOD,” Mark shouted.

“Are you getting close to over it, or…” Jim interjected dryly, resting his hands on his hips and scratching at his eyebrow. Mark’s motion ceased and he looked sternly toward Jim, pointing at his nose.

“Listen if I were you…” Jim raised his eyebrows in interest, but was cheated out of the rest of the sentence when Mark was once again distracted by the recurring image in his head of Pam beating the shit out of a guy twice her size. “Oh my god…just like…punched him in the face!” He reiterated, in case Jim had somehow missed the actual event…or the past two minutes of Mark reliving it.

“I was actually there, so…I don’t really need you to…”

“I think if I were you I’d, like, propose,” Mark interrupted, ignoring Jim’s sarcasm as he almost always did. Jim’s face dropped into a look of complete disbelief, calling Mark on the lie without even saying a word. Mark visibly deflated. “Ok so I wouldn’t propose, but I would definitely take her upstairs and see if she throws left hooks in the bedroom.” He pushed his tongue against his cheek and punched his hand down a few times for emphasis. “Know what I’m sayin’?” he asked cheekily. Jim just stared.

“You’re an idiot,” he replied, his voice flat and even and basically finished dealing with Mark in general. Mark chuckled at the response, which was exactly what he’d expected and bowed a little bit in thanks, before sobering and moving to pick up the pizza box from the coffee table.

“Seriously though…that was intense. You were not kidding about that guy.” Jim pushed his hands through his hair and debated going after Pam…just to be sure she was all right. He sighed.

“I don’t kid about Roy,” he confessed, and Mark nodded in understanding.

“I can see why,” Mark agreed. Jim stared at the front door and scratched his chin lightly before returning his hands to his hips and shifting his weight. Mark looked up from cleaning and paused. “Don’t go after her,” he instructed, and Jim exhaled heavily, dropping his head down in defeat. “Just…here have a slice of pizza,” Mark suggested, thrusting the box toward Jim and popping the lid to reveal two pieces. Jim frowned at them and shook his head.

“I’m not hungry,” he argued. Mark shoved the box onto the kitchen counter and tossed his hands up, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Ok well…” he began, “just go lay down or something. Listen to Cute Dead Casket or whoever the fuck you…”

“Death Cab for Cutie,” Jim corrected, his eyes still on the door and his voice dripping with disinterest. Mark rolled his eyes again.

“Ok, whatever whiny, girly music you have on your ipod, just go lay in bed and put in your headphones and relax,” he suggested. Jim didn’t move. “Listen I know I haven’t known her that long, but I think she was saying she wants to be alone…Let it go,” Mark patted him on the chest and plopped himself on the sofa, flipping on the television and starting to surf for the basketball scores.

“That’s sage advice, dude, thanks,” Jim mocked, turning to the stairs and thinking that, despite the annoyance factor, Mark was mostly right…and laying down actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. His concern for Pam was pushing against his skull and giving him a headache, and…Mark was mostly right…there was nothing he could do about it right now. He would just lay in bed and listen for the front door, and then when she got home he would go downstairs and he would make sure she was ok.

He climbed onto his mattress, over the covers and still in his jeans and t-shirt, and closed his eyes, listening to the muffled sounds of ESPN coming from the living room and waiting for the click of the front door. Then, he promised himself as his mind began to drift, then he would make sure Pam was ok…

There’s still a little bit of your ghost…your weakness.

There’s still a little bit of your face I haven’t kissed

You step a little closer each day

Still, I can’t see what’s going on

When Pam got back the house was dark…sleeping…and she didn’t blame it because she’d been gone for a little over two hours. Wandering the streets, she’d been thoughtful…she wasn’t sure what she should do now…she wasn’t sure what she had done already…whether or not it had been right…and she had searched the ground like it maybe knew things about the world that she hadn’t learned yet.

She could never shed Roy. He was a part of her and a part of the person she had become. She could not shed him…but she could believe that she existed outside of him. She could believe that the things she saw in herself when Jim looked at her were real…were true. She wanted them to be true. She could have goals and dreams and terraces and flowers. She could have love if that was what she wanted.

And she thought maybe it was.

She shook her shoulders and the remnants of Roy dripped down her spine and made puddles in the sidewalk beneath her feet.

It crossed her mind that she felt a little bit like someone from an old movie…like It’s a Wonderful Life, or Miracle on 34th Street. She’d just punched a guy in another guy‘s living room, a few days after a blizzard… Yeah she definitely felt like Jimmy Stewart. So she strolled out into the street and smiled to herself all the way home, because she sort of liked that feeling…And because she was herself…and that was all.

And now she stood in the foyer of Jim’s house and she peeled off her coat quietly and she slipped off her sneakers and she climbed the stairs because the sofa was empty and she needed to tell someone that this was her life and she was herself…she needed to tell Jim that she was the person he had told her she could be. His bedroom door was standing open and she crept in, careful not to make the floorboards creek beneath her, and he was laying on top of the covers, sleeping fully clothed.

She stood next to the bed and thought of Friday and how he had seemed so tortured then…so full of anxiety…and that same look was on his face, even now, and she felt bad because she knew that she had put it there. He emanated unrest and worry and he was so full of his emotions that even in sleep they poured out of him and onto her. She breathed in deep through her nose and tilted her head, watching him and the way that he was everything she suddenly needed…everything she needed now that Thursday had happened and she was completely herself. She squinted a little and reached out a hand, wanting to touch the crease in his brow and watch it disappear, but then she remembered that on Friday she had wanted to lay down beside him. She remembered that on Friday she had wanted to wrap her arms around him and be a part of his existence. She remembered that on Friday she hadn’t let herself do it…

The bed creaked a little bit when she climbed onto it and Jim sat up in confusion, but her arm snaked out around his torso and she muttered something about it just being her, and he laid back down, the confusion still coloring his expression. And she laid herself down beside him.

“Are you ok?” he whispered, tucking his arm underneath her without really even thinking about it. She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder, looking up at the ceiling of his bedroom and thinking that she liked the feel of him stretched out next to her.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, “I just wanted to see what this felt like.” Her explanation didn’t really do anything tangible to calm his worry, but he accepted it because it sort of made sense to him somehow. “Do you always sleep in your clothes?” she asked. He pushed his head back and into the pillows beneath him so he could look down at her face.

“No…” he replied, “No, I don’t.” She nodded against him and pressed her hip to his, wrapping her arm around him a little bit tighter and just feeling the way that his breath pushed his ribcage up and then down…up…and then down…and she closed her eyes and focused on matching her rhythm to his. It happened almost automatically and she smiled quietly to herself. “Pam,” he started, with a question in his voice, “…is everything…”

“I’m in love with you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and she hadn’t really thought about it…realized it…but as it fell from her mouth she tasted it like the truth. Her smile spread a little bit because he was stunned into silence.

“Wh…what?” he asked breathlessly. She picked her head up and looked him in the eye, wiping the smile off her face because she didn’t want any confusion…she didn’t want him to wonder if she was sure, because she thought she’d never really been more sure of anything in her entire life. She felt the words deep and heavy…felt them warm like a late Sunday dinner…felt them real like the air in her lungs.

“I am,” she promised him, “I’m in love with you. And I’m…” she sighed, “I know it‘s weird because of Roy and…”

“Yeah weird is not the word that I would…” All the air left his lungs in a gush, taking his words with it, and he sat up completely…unsure what was happening…still feeling a little bit hazy from sleep, and he gripped her shoulders and scanned her face, looking for evidence that he was dreaming…that this was a cruel creation of his imagination. “So…” he began to reply, his brow tight with consideration, and she just looked back at him, starting to feel a pressure in her chest…starting to feel this overwhelming desire…she felt herself wanting to explain to him…wanting to tell him everything that she had realized…wanting him inside of her head and feeling her emotions and becoming a part of her in every way. He blinked at the look on her face…the warmth of her smile… “I’m awake right now. This is for real.” He said this quietly, like to himself, and it made her grin spread because she thought of what he’d probably been like as a little boy…all seriousness and concentration. He spoke to her softly, not wanting to jar the atmosphere. “’I love you, too’ isn’t…right, though…I mean…it’s not…I don’t know, enough. So…what if I say, uh…I‘ve been in love with you for…like…” his eyes narrowed as he tried to calculate the time he’d spent pining after her, “months…?” he finished. Pam expelled a laugh, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“What?” she asked. He shook his head a little and slipped his hands down her arms and twined her fingers in his. “Why didn’t you…” she shrugged a little, “I don’t know…say something or…slap me…” she meant it as a joke, but the way that he offered only a half smile made her realize that there was nothing funny here for him…this was serious. Months…she thought, her brain trying to wrap itself around that.

“I was always taught not to hit girls…” he whispered, his gaze on their hands and how her skin seemed pale even in the shadows of his room. She brushed her thumb against his palm and a self-deprecating laugh pushed its way out of his mouth. “You were engaged until like…today, you know? So I just…” he shrugged again, hoping that that would finish the sentence for him. She nodded quietly.

“Yeah,” she answered, wondering why it had taken her so long…just in general. She opened her mouth to say more…maybe to apologize…but he swallowed whatever words had been waiting on her tongue. He leaned forward and kissed her like his life depended on it, his hands gripping her hair and his lips and tongue tangling with hers frantically…hungrily…he wanted to devour her confession…he wanted to own it…to stake his claim…to plant a flag down and say that this was his…that this moment belonged to him. She sighed into his mouth and he leaned back, pulling her so that they were laying down again, stretched out long and lean and his hands drifted from cradling her face to pressing against her hips, and she felt that electric fire that he always ignited inside of her.

She pulled back to try and catch her breath, and she looked at him, her eyes searching his as he pushed the hair away from her face. She grinned a little and squinted, her thoughts drifting to how he had become the person that he was…how he could be so inherently good and so earnest when it came to her…how he could be all of the things that she needed and still be himself. She wasn’t sure she knew how to do that for another person. She brushed her fingers across his forehead and he sighed.

“Is your mom like the most amazing person on the planet?…” she muttered, trying to find the reason for the way that she loved him. But she knew this wasn’t his mother…this wasn’t Roy or Mark or Mindy or anyone who had pushed her in this direction…no, it was Pam…and she was herself and she was rooted into the ground so deeply that she could finally feel the way that he was rooted right beside her.

“Pam?” Jim asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Yeah,” she replied, bending down to kiss him lightly on the cheek because she could and she’d always sort of wanted to do that.

“This is my bed…” he told her, his hands sliding down to tease her hipbones. She pulled back and looked at him again, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah I know,” she replied.

“Don’t talk about my mother when you’re in my bed…It‘s really not sexy.”

She smiled and dropped her head back to his shoulder, sighing and thinking that her stomach felt really…really empty. She bit her lip and tried to ignore it…but it didn’t really work…it never worked. Her stomach had a mind of its own, and also had really bad timing.

“Hey,” she muttered, tapping him gently on the shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at the ceiling.

“Yes…” he responded, amused and full of the electric energy that came from kissing Pam and having the words I love you drip from her lips and land on his ears. She laughed to herself and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m really hungry…” she confessed, her body frozen in anticipation of his reaction. He tipped his head a little and started to form the word “what” with his lips. “I never got to finish my pizza…” she explained quietly, pressing a kiss against his neck where her lips were resting.

“What?” he finally pushed out. “Pam, are you kidding me?”

“I’m serious!” she told him, laughing and propping herself up on an elbow. She rubbed her hand against his stomach and smiled her most convincing smile. “Come on, come downstairs with me.” Her request was met with a grin of incredulity. “You aren’t hungry?” He huffed out a single chuckle.

“Well, I mean…I was sort of just…we’re in this bed and we’re all cozy…” She hummed and bent down to kiss him, her tongue snaking out to tease his. He responded in kind, and just as his hand dropped back to tangle in her belt loops she pulled away, grinning. “Do you see how this is not fair?” he pleaded desperately. She laughed and rolled off the bed to stand up in front of him.

“You should always buy a girl dinner before trying to get into her pants, Jim. Always,” she emphasized. He laughed because that wasn’t what he’d expected her to say, and followed her lead by rolling off of the bed and onto his feet. She stretched onto her toes and pecked him once, quick and light. “And I take back what I said about your mother, cause you should’ve known that before,” she told him, turning to walk out of his room and bounce happily down the stairs. He followed her, rolling his eyes at the empty room and thinking that he was wrapped around her finger…he’d always been wrapped around her finger…

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to cry

So come on courage…

Teach me to be shy.

Cause it’s not hard to fall

And I don’t want to scare her

It’s not hard to fall

And I don’t want to lose

And it’s not hard to grow

When you know that you just don’t know…

He eyed her with crossed arms, leaning against the counter, casual, his mouth set in an almost permanent grin, because this wasn‘t how he‘d expected things to end up…this wasn‘t what he‘d expected. She was hunched over in front of the open refrigerator door, perusing the options.

“Pizza?” she offered. He shook his head at her back, thinking that he really needed to just get her upstairs…

“No,” he answered.

“Leftover spaghetti?” Her voice was muffled and adorable and he was still a little bit distracted by the fact that only a few minutes before this she had confessed that she was in love with him. Pam Beesly was in love with him…Jim Halpert. He smiled to himself wondering when he became the kind of guy who got the girl. He cleared his throat and thought that he should probably listen to her instead of listening to the smug and oh-so-close to satisfied voice in his head.

“Uh…no,” he told her, considering that they had made the spaghetti nearly five days before. “We should throw that out, shouldn’t we?” he wondered aloud, tipping his head so he could peer into the fridge. Yes, he tried to tell her silently, we should throw it out and then we should go upstairs… She shrugged her indifference and went on, apparently missing his telepathic message. He sighed.

“How about some green pepper?” she asked. His face pinched into confusion.

“Green pepper?”

“Yeah, there’s a green pepper in here,” she confirmed blandly. He let out a single laugh.

“No.”

“Mac and cheese?”

“No, why do we have a green pepper?” She stretched her arm toward the back of a shelf and retrieved the vegetable, picking it up with dainty, careful fingers.

“I have…no idea. But it doesn’t look very fresh.” She tossed it at him and he caught it, feeling one of his fingers push right through the skin. He grimaced.

“Wow…ok I’m throwing it away,” he muttered, tossing it into the trash can and wiping his hands on a towel. She sighed and pulled out some food wrapped in foil.

“Ok well I’m eating the pizza,” she announced. He nodded his approval and chewed on his lower lip as she leaned against the sink and chewed thoughtfully on the pizza, watching him watch her, her mouth fighting a smile. He wondered if domesticity was like this…late night snacks and forgotten green peppers and sharing your house with a woman who could make you smile just by deciding that she wanted pizza instead of pasta. He thought that he hoped it was like this… About halfway through the slice he raised his eyebrows at her. “Hey Jim?”

“Yeah,” he replied. She grinned at him, but her eyes were serious…her eyes were intent upon him and he swallowed because every time she looked at him in that certain way his entire body sort of…warmed up… She took another bite and chewed it, making him wait mostly because she wasn’t exactly sure how to say what she wanted, and also a little bit because of the way waiting drove him crazy. He leaned toward her a little. “Pam?” She swallowed, nodding and taking a breath…grounding herself, and instructing herself to keep it simple.

“Thank you.” She was sincere, but he shrugged because that was what he always did when she tried to thank him. “I mean…I just never could’ve done any of this without you,” she explained around another bite of her midnight snack, “any of these…new…exciting things…”

“New and exciting? You mean like punching your ex-boyfriend in the face?” He took a step toward her and stole her slice of pizza so that he could take a bite. She watched, amused, pleased in a very feminine kind of way that he was sharing her dinner.

“You can finish it,” she told him, waving a hand as if to say that she didn’t care. He shrugged and started to eat the crust. “Yeah new and exciting,” she continued, “because I guess I just didn’t realize that I had all of these certain things in me…or maybe I knew I had them I just, um, I thought I shouldn’t because Roy was so…” she shook her head because this wasn’t supposed to be about Roy at all. It wasn’t about Roy. This was about her life and the way that Jim had given it to her…the way that she felt like Jim had given it to her. She placed her hands flat against his chest as he finished the pizza, and he wrapped his arms around her, thoughtfully watching her face. “You made me more myself, I guess is what I’m saying. And…that doesn’t make any sense…” Her frustration was light…casual…but still very real, and he laughed down at her and pressed a kiss against her lips to silence her self-chastisement.

“Yeah, it does,” he confirmed, because she had made him a little bit more himself too…only she’d done it years ago when they’d been at lunch on his first day at Dunder Mifflin and she’d told him he should be on TV because he was so funny…she’d done it a month ago when she’d smiled warmly at his awkward confession in the break room…she’d done it two hours ago when she’d needed him to help her stand up to Roy…and she was doing it now. He felt more himself than he maybe ever had in his life. He kissed her again, but she pulled away, because she‘d rehearsed one last thing on her walk earlier and she really wanted to get it out.

“Jim, I’m so much happier now…Thursday seems like it was years ago. And I wanted to say that I love this house…I love being here with Mark…and with you. But if I’ve overstayed my welcome you should just say…”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, leaning down to press his mouth against hers for a third time, this time doing it harder and with more intent. She wrapped her fingers up in his hair and he hummed into the cavern of her mouth.

“Jim,” she whispered against him. He grunted in response, too distracted to really reply because of the way that she was rubbing her hips against him and the way that the skin beneath her shirt was soft and warm and so what he wanted to wrap himself up in… He was sure this couldn’t be duplicated…the way that she grabbed at the core of him with a fist full of this delicious female softness and made him want to fall to his knees in front of her…made him want to promise her anything if she would just touch him deep and low and where he really really wanted her to be. He pressed his tongue to the spot of skin just below her ear and swept his thumb along the dip in her waist. She shifted against him and, completely on instinct and without intention, her hips swerved in a figure eight. His vision swam. His hands left her and slammed against the edge of the sink and he pulled his mouth from the silkiness of her skin.

“Ok…” he huffed, looking down at the place where his belt sort of meshed and collided with hers. They panted together almost in unison until she sucked in a lungful of air and held it, trying to get her breathing under control. He licked his lips. “This is not the right location for this,” he announced. She let out the air she’d been holding and chuckled.

“Upstairs?” she asked, suddenly feeling nervous…self conscious…a little more vulnerably human than she had a minute before. His eyes met hers like flashlights, searching out the honesty that she had hidden in her gaze. The skin around his lashes crinkled a little bit when he smiled at her.

“Upstairs,” he agreed. She nodded once and pushed past him, grabbing one of his hands in hers and pulling so that he followed her through the living room. He extended his free hand to toy with the hair hanging down her back and she jumped, ducking like he had tried to hit her with a baseball bat. “Whoa…” he muttered. She turned around, matting her hair down to her neck with her hand.

“Oh my god, was that you?” she asked. His eyes were wide and he lifted one side of his mouth.

“Uh…yeah, I was just um…” Her laughter interrupted him.

“I totally thought there was a bug in my hair,” she confessed in a rush. He leaned toward her and grinned, his shoulders hunched a little and his fingers tripping against hers, shifting so that they were laced together.

“You thought there was a bug in your hair…” he repeated, “wow…that’s…”

“No,” she interjected, smiling and placing a hand against his shoulder to get his full attention, “because…”

“No, no that’s…really flattering Pam,” he teased, chuckles dispersed through his words like salt and pepper.

“NO!” she insisted emphatically, shaking the hand that held his a little bit and gripping his shoulder a little tighter. “Listen, Mark had on the Discovery Channel earlier! And it was this like two hour special on the praying mantis and I was…so grossed out that I’ve just been assuming every single thing is a praying mantis…” He rolled his eyes and she willingly obliged as he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her back toward the stairs.

“Ok, come on, I don’t really care cause I have other things I’m thinking about right now.” She gasped playfully and laughed over her shoulder at him.

“Jim, try to be a gentleman,” she instructed mockingly, and he snorted at her because he couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of the statement.

“A gentleman?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, starting to climb the steps but refusing to drop his hand in order to do it. He huffed.

“What are you, like…seventy?” he asked incredulously. She laughed and shushed him loudly, pausing in their ascent to glare down at him over her shoulder. His mouth dropped open and he stared at her, feigning insult. “Ok, I’m not the one raising a ruckus!”

“Raising a ruckus?” she mocked, turning to climb again and shaking her head at his choice of words.

“Yes,” he affirmed proudly.

“What are you, like…seventy?” she mimicked, a smile sneaking into her words. He offered up a sort of polite chuckle which was not meant to indicate that he thought anything about that was funny. She laughed a genuine laugh and reached the landing triumphantly, turning to walk backwards into his room and watching as he kicked the door closed and stepped into her space. She thought this all seemed surreal…the look on his face and the way that it didn’t make her look away like it had on the Booze Cruise…the way that she was with him and didn’t have to worry about whether or not it was cheating…the way she was in love with him and she knew it, and she stood upon it like it was the foundation of all of the things she had become. He stepped into her space and wrapped his arms around her and he was tall…warm…Jim…and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“That would suck for you, wouldn’t it?” he asked quietly, his eyes dark with having reached his bedroom and what that meant. She shook her head a little.

“They have Viagra now,” she said this like she was informing him, as if he had never heard of it before. He nodded, humming in agreement. “It’d be ok.”

“What a turn on, Pam, thank you,” he muttered, dipping his head to press his open mouth against her neck, breathing onto it and feeling her shiver.

“You started it,” she exhaled lazily, her hands drifting idly and scratching an unreadable alphabet onto his upper back. And the discussion was completely forgotten once his hand slid up and under the hem of her sweater, dragging skin against skin until he met the silk of her bra and paused. He pulled his mouth away from her throat and looked down into her eyes…searching again…she thought he was doing that a lot and wondered if it was because, to him, she’d been a tease for three years, and this was just a little bit hard to believe.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he whispered, concerned that it might be too fast for her…too much, considering the day that she’d had. She just looked back at him, calm, serious and reached down between them to pull her sweater off over her head. He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Ok, I guess we are.” She dropped the shirt to the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hers.

“Just shut up, Jim, ok?”

And then she kissed him, and it was like she had offered water to a starving man, and his fingers flexed before taking up residence against her back and pushing so that she was up against him, so that she was pressed along the length of him and he could feel the way that her body was all slopes and valleys, all things that he lacked and wanted to stake his claim on… He groaned into her mouth. Pulling away was like an addict saying no to a fix, but he forced himself to do it because he knew that skin against skin was…god…so much better than skin against cotton. His t-shirt hit the ground right beside hers and he thought he was going to die when she licked her lips and ran her hands across him, from his shoulders down and out so that her fingers ended up perched above his hips.

“Pam,” he whispered, before swooping down and crushing her mouth against his. His lips teased her and his tongue tasted her and she felt her fingers drift almost of their own accord to the clasp of his belt and sort of settle there…waiting…enjoying the thrill she got from only this…from just this. God his mouth was so much a part of her, and he wanted it that way…he wanted to give her his tongue…his words…give her the things that made him who he was because she was his last, and this needed to be more than anything he’d ever had with anyone else. This needed to be better than the times before. He promised her silently that this would be better. She quietly believed him.

Her fingers tightened around his belt buckle and he broke away from the kiss, looking down at her with reptile eyes, his shoulders hunched and his pelvis tipping toward her so that the line of him was an ‘s’ and she thought that he was like a cobra or a panther…something intensely masculine and sexual. A predator stalking its prey. Her gaze was saucy looking back at him and she pulled the belt from its loops, dropping it so that she could unbutton his fly. Slow. Deliberate. Sure to make him aware of her hand, but her eyes refusing to look away from his. He was caught in her stare and practically done in by her hands, which brushed against him and eventually reached into his boxers so that skin was blessedly against skin and he hissed, reaching up to place his hands against her jaw and pulling her mouth against him again because if she wanted him to stay quiet he would speak this way instead and tell her that he wanted her like this…he loved her like this…that she was in his veins like the blood that rushed through all parts of him.

“This is not going to go well if you keep doing that,” he exhaled onto her smiling mouth and she chuckled.

“Keep doing what?” she asked, feigning innocence and he pulled his teeth across her bottom lip, lazy and gentle. She felt a shot of something harsh and hot shoot down her spine. His hand slid from her shoulder down, brushing against her breast and riding the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip until he reached the denim of her thigh. He wrapped his fingers around the back of it and pulled so that she was up against him real and intense like hard against soft and skin against skin and her head tipped back on her shoulders a little because it was so too much that it was just enough. “Uh…” she sighed, “Maybe foreplay is not…um…maybe we should just…”

“Uh huh,” he breathed against her hair, his breath causing it to sort of fan into the air, gentle like leaves or tall grass. She felt a part of the earth move, and in what felt like seconds they had lost their clothes, shed them with their inhibitions, and were stretched out on the bed…in what felt like seconds she was poised above him and staring down at his pupil-filled eyes as she sheathed him in latex and pushed herself onto him. She groaned deep and satisfied, feeling him stretch her like he’d stretched her life…feeling the way that he was the center of her rotation.

She felt the rhythm of her own body. She was earth-laden…African…tribal and sexy…female. She wrapped herself feline around him, all arched and stretching limbs. The room was heavy…hot…made electric by the way he pulled his mouth across her skin and the way that she clutched his shoulders…the way that he moved inside of her and she moaned his name…the way that they were deliciously human…blessedly ethereal…they were all things and they pulsed together. He was painted in blue beneath her, the moonlight bouncing off of the blinds…slipping between them and crawling across the surface of their bodies. She pumped…she pushed…she rode the axel of him and promised with her eyes that he was inside of her deep like the marrow of her spine…solid like the rib within her that she was certain had at one time belonged to him. She promised him with her eyes that it was his again…that everything inside of her was his…was because of him.

Her head dropped back on her shoulders and she pushed a little harder…moved a little faster…and she felt him chuckle beneath her, deep and low and the only thing that stopped her from stopping altogether was the way his hands appeared on her hips…large…strong…long and gripping her and urging her forward as she glared down at him.

“What?” she asked breathlessly. He grinned up at her.

“Who…” he expelled, his voice so rooted in his abdomen and so full of exertion that he had to take a deep breath after only the one word. “Who are you?” he forced out, laughing. The only response she had for him was breathless laughter, and she bent down over him to place her lips against his. He accepted the response because he was certain he didn’t want to strip her of whatever confidence this was that she had found…whatever glorious sensuality had possessed her. She had no words for him because the only thing she could think was that she was herself…she was more herself than she had ever been and she was full of that…she was swimming among it…she was buried beneath it and reveling in the shadow of her own expression. She was herself and that was blessedly, wonderfully all.

He swept her up and flipped her so that he was towering over her and she sighed up at him…her breath pleased that he was above her now…pleased that she could lay luxurious beneath him and let him pray over her…let him be over her with the delicious sweat of his body and the stinging intensity of his gaze. He dipped his head and he kissed her…he pushed his tongue into her like he pushed himself into her…slow…careful…tasting the way that she was happy…tasting the way that she was Pam. He pushed into her slow and full and heavy and she groaned beneath him because she could feel him deep…she could feel him hard and insistent and pulsing and she let her arms float above her head, easy against the cotton of the pillow case, her hair fanned out like the crown of Helen around her face.

“Oh God…” he sighed out against her mouth, feeling the electricity of her warmth and the way that this was so bottomless…so fathomless…so…God, so good…and he pushed into her hard, forcing a cry out of her mouth. She reached down between them and pressed her fingers against herself, tightening the cord inside of her…winding herself taut…winding him, too, as he stared down at her, transfixed…and as she began to vibrate beneath him with the hum of her own perfect harmonies his eyes slid closed and he wrapped himself around her, pushing hard and fast and wondering how he had lasted this long. And as his world exploded she sighed relaxed and pleased beneath him, snaking the paleness of her arms along his back and feeling the way that she’d been empty without him…feeling the way that he had made her whole.

He sighed into her neck and was still, and she waited, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that had the sparkle of life in them, her hands floating across his back…soothing…stroking.

“Holy shit,” he finally breathed into her skin. She smiled for a moment…quiet…and then laughter bubbled up from her stomach and tripped out of her mouth. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, smiling and hazy-eyed. “I mean…I knew we’d be good together, but what was that?” She leaned forward and kissed him gently, softly, a smile still on her lips.

“That,” she kissed him again, “was me having my way with you…” She tried to get it out without laughing, but just the thought of saying it was a little too much for her and a chuckle was laced with the words because she couldn’t help it. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

“Wow…” he muttered. “Yeah, you‘re a little bit over-zealous, Pam…making a few assumptions…” he observed, tilting his mouth and shaking his head a little. She laughed even harder and kissed the expression off of his face. “I mean, some might argue I was having my way with you…” She hummed in feigned understanding, grinning and pressing her lips against his neck before pulling back and sobering a little, searching his face for something and running her hand across his chest affectionately. He quirked his eyebrows at her in question…concern… She squinted at him.

“What if…” she started softly, but that wasn’t right so she tried again. “Wouldn’t you like to have a house with a terrace where you could plant flowers…?” he watched her carefully, listening because he could tell she needed him to, “I mean, I‘ve always thought…doesn‘t that sound nice? Just hypothetically, I mean they don‘t even have houses like that in Scranton, so…but, um…” she sighed and shook her head, thinking that this wasn’t coming out quite right and she felt kind of silly for even saying it at all. He placed his hand on her cheek and silently demanded that she look him in the eye, and when she did her gaze was moist with tears. He squinted at her just as she’d squinted at him and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“I would follow you anywhere,” he vowed, his lips brushing hers. She sighed against him and wrapped her arms around him completely, pressing the length of her body against him and holding on tight because she never wanted to lose this…to lose him. “I’ll build you a terrace if that’s what you want.”

And she smiled and thought that maybe he already had.

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- Elizabeth Barrett Browning -

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She glanced at her watch and quickened her pace a little, the plastic bag on her arm cutting into her skin. Shifting, she unlocked her car door and pressed her cell phone to her ear with her shoulder, wondering why she insisted on doing so many things at a time. The bag hit the passenger seat with a thud as she tossed it there and the top was jarred off the box of shoes that she had purchased. Black pumps…sensible black pumps that had been on sale. She glanced at them fondly as the phone on the other end of the line rang.

“Hello?” he finally answered. Pam stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, reaching over reflexively to turn down the radio so that it wouldn’t interrupt her phone call.

“Hey, I’m on my way. I’m so sorry I’m late, the mall was really crowded,” she explained, adjusting the rearview mirror and thinking that she was starving and couldn’t wait to get to the Glider where Jim was waiting to eat dinner with her.

“That’s ok,” Jim assured her. “Did you find what you needed?”

“Yeah, I think I did,” she glanced at the shoes again and sighed, trying to loosen the tightness of her muscles. “Listen, I’ll be there in like five minutes, ok?”

“I’ll be here,” he promised. Something in his voice made her pause and she tipped her head at him, even though he couldn’t see it.

“What’s wrong? You sound funny.” She started to pull out of the parking ramp and waited patiently while a family of four crossed in front of her car, the mother and father gripping the hands of their children tightly and steering them in the right direction. The mother met Pam’s stare and rolled her eyes. Pam laughed quietly and waved.

“I do? No nothing’s wrong, I’ve just, you know…I’ve been sitting here, so…” he muttered.

“Well, have Mindy tell you a joke. I’ll be right there,” she promised, pulling out onto the street and heading in the direction of the diner.

“Ok,” he sighed, “Bye.”

She flicked her phone closed and dropped it into her purse, thinking that she was going to order grilled cheese…or maybe a tuna melt…something fattening and indulgent because the next day was orientation for her internship in New York, and she needed comfort food…she needed to feel ready and feel prepared, and right now she didn’t really feel either of those things. She pretty much just felt nervous. The streets rolled by her and she thought that it was a pleasant night…warmer than it had been, with a clean clear sky, dusted with stars. She turned the radio back up and tried to enjoy the ride across town.

Finally pulling into a parking space outside the Glider she blew air out of her mouth loudly and put her car in park, hoping that she could eat. She’d been so worked up all day at work that lunch had been impossible…so impossible that she’d had to throw out almost an entire cup of yogurt because she just couldn’t get it down. Her hunger and her nervousness were waging a war against each other, and she really wanted this particular battle to go to her hunger, because she didn’t think it would be a good idea to faint on her first day as a graphic designer. She had to eat something. Grabbing her purse and climbing from her car she slammed the door and peered into the side window at the distorted reflection of herself, tucking some strands of hair into place. She’d gotten it cut the day before…not too short, but it still seemed drastic to her. Now her hair hung in soft waves to just above her shoulder, and she pushed it behind her ears, hoping that she looked corporate enough. Jim had told her a haircut was a silly idea and that she was corporate enough just as she was, but she wanted to do something physical…something tangible to represent her new beginning. Once she’d had it done he agreed that she looked “sharp.” She had laughed and told him he was seventy and nobody used the word sharp anymore…he told her he did because that‘s what she was…and she had thanked him. She stood up a little straighter and turned to the door of the diner, hoping Mindy would like her hair and maybe say something. The door swung open easily and she stepped inside and froze, tears filling her eyes as she took in the way that the diner was full of familiar faces.

A sign that said “Good luck, Pam!” hung over the front counter and the surface was covered with pots and bowls full of food. Mindy winked at her and she laughed to cut through her own shocked silence. Everyone yelled “Surprise!” and she laughed a little bit harder. She scanned through the crowd, taking in that everyone from work was there…and Mark and Sue and the frat boys…and Mindy and Tom…and as she wrapped her arms around Jim and whispered “Thank you” into his ear, she noticed her mother, who waved at her with a proud, teary-eyed smile on her face, and Pam thought maybe she was ready for tomorrow…maybe she was prepared. Maybe she could do it.

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“Ok here open this,” Jim insisted, shoving the last gift toward her. It was large and messily wrapped…oddly shaped…and she peered at it skeptically, swallowing the bite of grilled cheese that she’d had in her mouth.

“What…is it?” she asked, taking it from him and turning it over in her hands. He sighed and told her just to open it and stop judging his wrapping abilities. She shrugged and tore the paper away, revealing a little golden business man that made her smile with remembering her whitest sneakers award. She glanced at Michael and he was smiling wide and he told her she should read it. She looked down at the inscription on the base of the Dundie and chuckled quietly to herself, this time turning to look at Jim who winked at her.

“What is it?” her mother asked in confusion, peering over her shoulder and taking a dainty sip of a glass of iced tea. Pam held the award up so everyone could see it.

“’Number one Newbie,’” she proclaimed proudly. “It’s the Dundie Michael gave Jim his first year at Dunder Mifflin,” she explained, her voice a little bit shaky with laughter because she found the gift amusing, and a little bit shaky with tears because she found the gift surprisingly moving. “I can’t take this Jim, this is yours.” He shook his head at her.

“You should have it,” he promised her quietly. “We thought it would be the best way to let you know that we have your back.” He glanced around at their coworkers for confirmation, and they all nodded and agreed and muttered encouragements.

“You’re gonna be so great Pam, we all think so,” Phyllis muttered timidly. Pam smiled and wiped a tear from under her eye, wondering how much of a sap she really looked like.

“Thank you, Phyllis,” she answered, placing the Dundie on the table in front of her and getting up to give her a hug. She pulled away and looked around the room. “Thanks you guys, this meant so much to me…” They smiled warmly at her and she stepped up to Jim and placed a chaste kiss on his mouth.

“You better not throw that out the way that Stanley does,” Jim warned her quietly. She laughed and patted his shoulder gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she told him, stretching up to kiss him again and turning when Mark’s voice interrupted the moment.

“What it should say,” Mark announced, reaching over to steal the Dundie and point at the base where the inscription was, “is ’The Holy Grail.’” Mindy eyed him sternly and placed her hands on her rounded hips. “Don't,” he interrupted her, “if you're about to tell me to shut up, just...don't even do it,” he finished, and Mindy chuckled heartily and tossed a towel at him, which he caught easily with one hand.

“She‘s right, you should,” Sue agreed. Pam laughed, thinking that this all seemed too right to be wrong, and that maybe it was the beginning of her life. She looked up at Jim and grinned, his arm draped around her shoulders, and she thought of the family she had seen crossing the street. And she thought that maybe this was the beginning of a really great story…

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And you will sing this song.

And you will shout this from the treetops.

And you will exist in this like some people exist in their sorrow.

But sorrow is not for you.

This is the story you were meant to tell.

All stillness and snow…all diners and dreams…all new and different and the way that people can change…

This is your story, Pam.

These are your words.

Speak this.