May

On the way back from New York, he hoped maybe things would be easy. Maybe the hard part was all behind them. It didn't quite turn out that way. When you're gone for a year, you can't always find yourself right away.

The first few dates were a little strange, surreal. He was guarded with her, and she responded by being guarded back. There were kisses, kind words, warmth, but awkward pauses and lots of uncertainty as well. Jim found himself swinging wildly between the dull numbness of the past year and wild fits of emotions that he tried to suppress, fearing that he couldn’t control them.

Pam didn’t quite know what to think about the hot and cold version of Jim. It was at least an improvement, though, over the always-cold Jim Her intuition told her that all would be well, though, that he just needed some time. She surprised herself, how she could take things in stride these days. And there were times when he seemed like his old self, and moments when he looked at her in a way that made her sure what his feelings were, even if the next day he might seem aloof. And so she was patient.

When she had imagined him as a boyfriend, though, she had imagined him as steady, reliable, solid. She imagined him being the way he was as a friend to her for so long. He wasn’t quite there right now. She never quite knew what to expect from him, never knew which Jim would be with her from one moment to the next.

And so, after they kissed at her doorstep, and she saw him looking at her with wild eyes and hunger, as much as she wanted to invite him in, she let him walk back to his car. To her frustration, it didn’t feel right yet. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he would go cold on her right afterwards, and she definitely did not want the first time to be like that.

Jim drove home after dropping her off, trying to make sense of what was going on. What the hell was with him? Half the time he felt like he was made of stone, and half the time he felt more emotion than he knew what to do with. It reminded him vaguely of being a teenager. During dinner tonight he had felt flat, tired, almost disinterested. Then on the way home, she took his hand and he felt his heart almost pounding through his chest and was almost overcome with love, regret, fear, gratitude.

It was only minutes ago that they had parted with a kiss that he desperately hoped and feared would lead to more. It hadn't, and he tried to console himself that it would surely happen soon. He had to hear her voice again. He called her cell as he drove home.

“Miss me already?”

“Pam, I’m…I want you to know…I mean…” He was so full of emotion he literally couldn’t speak.

“Jim. It’s okay. Just relax. Get yourself home, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry; I know I’m being weird lately. I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay, Jim, really. Listen. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to disappear. Just take your time. It’s okay.”

“Okay. I just…I really want this, Pam.”

“Me too, Jim. We’ll get there.”

June

On the first weekend in June, they went for a hike. It was a compromise after Jim tried and failed to sell Pam on the joys of mountain biking. The weather was as perfect as Scranton weather ever gets. They made their way along a trail on Montage Mountain, talking easily, needling each other. He didn’t know what it was, but as the day went on, Jim felt himself relax, felt his confidence coming back. After a few hours, they stopped near a creek to sit for a bit and have some water.

They sat on a rock in a sunny clearing in companionable silence. She could feel Jim’s eyes on her, and when she turned to look at him she saw on his face not the blank indifference or anxious passion she had been seeing, but warmth, confidence, affection.

“Hey,” she simply said, smiling.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?”

She paused for a moment. “Absolutely it is.”

She could feel the shift in him. The expression in his face, the way he carried himself and talked the rest of the day, told her that he was back, recovered, and that they could really move forward. And so they did.

The first time was that night. It was not a fairy tale. It was awkward and surreal and over quickly. The second time, a few hours later, was better though, and the third, the next morning, better still. The numbers mounted quickly after that.

July

The shadows of their past still intruded on them sometimes. Jim had wanted a hundred times to tell her again that he loved her, but whenever he would start to summon the words, those shadows would come up, and he would hold back. His mind would go back to the parking lot and he would still feel the echoes of the pain from that night. Or, he would imagine telling her and then seeing her look uncomfortable and scrambling for some graceful way to avoid saying it back. And if that happened, he wasn’t sure he could recover. It was always easier to hold the words back and smile at her, or kiss her. Wait until next time.

It was the same for her. She did love him, and she knew she should be the one to say it first this time. She owed him that. As brave as she was, though, she couldn’t force the words out. She would start to, and then decide the timing wasn’t quite right. She should make it special, an epic romantic moment. Or at least that was what she told herself as an excuse for why she hadn’t told him yet.

He woke up in her bed Saturday morning, contented and spent from the night before. She slept soundly next to him on her side, facing him, her peaceful face just a few inches away. After staring at her for a few minutes, he reluctantly and carefully pulled himself out of bed. He was supposed to meet some guys to play basketball, and he had bailed on them last week. After he had dressed, he gently touched her shoulder.

“Pam. I gotta go. Basketball. I’ll see ya tonight.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily at him.

“Okay. Bye. I love you.”

Jim was stuck silent. He stood over her bed, motionless, not sure how to react.

Pam’s sleepy brain finally caught up with what she said. For a brief moment, she felt an almost panicked embarrassment, but when she saw him standing over her, she remembered she did love him and it was time for him to know that. She flashed a rumpled, sleepy smile, and sat up.

“I do, Jim. I love you. I really really love you.

He stood looking at her, dumbstruck goofy grin on his face. She was rumpled, sleepy eyes, messy haired, and smiling at him sweetly.

“Well, have fun playing. I’m gonna go back to sleep for a little while,” she said teasingly. She made a show out of lying back down and closing her eyes.

She was still smiling, though, and she was not surprised when she felt him get back in bed and pull himself close to her.

“Pam, I love you too. I’ve never stopped.”

She opened her eyes and accepted his kiss, morning breath be damned.

Jim bailed on basketball again.

From then on, they said it a lot, as if they were making up for lost time.

August

It was a good month. They spent more nights with each other than not, and Jim felt like himself again, and like this wasn’t going to disappear on him at any moment and leave him hurting worse than ever.

One particular Monday, though, got the better of Pam. It wasn’t one big thing, just a lot of little things. Michael was particularly ridiculous and demanding. Her head hurt. She couldn’t get some new graphic design software she had spent a lot of money on to work right. Her mom was sounded sick on the phone. The air conditioning on the Yaris wasn’t working and it was a million degrees. It was like the day was conspiring against her.

Jim was gone all day on sales calls, but was supposed to swing by her place and take her to dinner. He told her he would be there by 6:30, but that came and went with no Jim. She was starving, and her frustration and irritation built minute by minute.

When he finally arrived, he was his usual self, cheerful, carefree, oblivious to the complete shittiness of the day. For the rare time, Pam did not find his easy good humor charming.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care, somewhere fast. I’m starving.”

“Burger King it is, then. You gonna go for the triple whopper? Your cholesterol, Beesly.”

Jim waited for a reaction, but got only silence, and saw no amusement at all in her face.

“You okay?”

“Could you have maybe called? You were late.”

Jim was taken aback by how clearly irritated she was. He tried to stay good humored. “I was, let’s see, twelve minutes late. Fifteen is the cutoff for a phone call to be required. Those are the rules, Pam. I don’t make them, I only play by them.”

As he finished his sentence, he kicked himself. Something was bothering her; it wasn’t the time to be cute.

“Damn it, Jim. Just go without me, I’ll make myself something. At least that way I won’t have to listen to your Goddamn comedy act all night.”

She heard herself say it, heard the bitter tone of her voice, and immediately wished she could unsay it. Just before she turned away from him, she saw his face fall. She buried her head in her hands. She tried to say, “I’m sorry” but was overcome by tears before she could even get the words out.

She was afraid to look up, afraid of seeing him looking hurt or angry or exasperated. He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if he had turned his back on her, or was about to walk back to his car and leave. The fights she would have with Roy flashed into her mind, how he would react whenever she lost it with him. He would tell her how crazy and stupid she was, and then disappear and go get drunk.

For a moment, she wondered if she had somehow damaged things, if he would ever be able to joke with her the same way again. She loved his comedy act, really.

Just as she was going to force herself to look up and apologize, she felt his arms wrap around her, gently at first, then pulling her close, tightly. She buried her face in his chest, wetting his shirt with her tears. She heard his voice, a soft whisper in her ear. “It’s okay, baby.”

It was the first time he had ever called her baby, and it sounded utterly ridiculous. She was suddenly laughing and crying at the same time.

She finally managed to look at him. She smiled at him through tears. “Baby?”

He looked at her sheepishly. “Uh, that just sort of slipped out.”

She smiled a little, the tears subsiding. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a terrible day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Like I said, it’s okay.” He paused, and smiled. “Baby.”

“Okay, do not make a habit out of that.”

He held her close and looked at her warmly. “So here’s the plan, Beesly. We’re ordering pizzas. Pizzas, plural. We’re getting in bed and turning on the television and we’re going to find the worst movie anywhere on television tonight and watch it all the way through.”

She felt some of the tension and upset draining out of her. She took a deep breath, and found a weary smile. “Okay. Two things though. I am the final judge of which movie is the worst. And, you are not to call me baby again.”

“Agreed on point one. I’m not sure about the second one though, baby.”

Jim fended off a playful beating and they made it to bed. The movie choice turned out to be uncontroversial, with “Big Momma’s House 2” easily triumphing over a generic Lifetime melodrama and some Nic Cage action movie.

They demolished the pizza and discussed the subtle nuances of Martin Lawrence’s performances. After the cinematic triumph was over, Pam cuddled up to him contentedly.

“Better?”

“Much.”

It became something of a tradition; when things got to her she would tell him she need to see a bad movie, and that became his cue to coddle her a bit, find a place where the two of them could be away from the rest of the world, preferably with something to mock. And on those nights, and those nights only, he called her, “baby.”

September

They never talked about the painful moments in the past, other than exchanging cursory “I’m sorrys” on their second date. Since then, they had an unspoken understanding not to speak of it. If they came too close, there would always be a brief uncomfortable silence and a quick change of subject.

Pam wondered if it would always be that way. She hoped not. As good as things were going, she felt, at times, a vague unease. It felt like there was some secret they were keeping from each other. Even with all her new bravery, she had not had the guts to take a chance and even try to bring up the hard times.

They were lying in bed, talking about this little thing and that little thing after a night of sex and television. She felt connected to him, safe. He seemed more himself than ever lately, and she felt loved by him constantly.

She hadn’t planned it, but suddenly she seized the moment.

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell you something.”

His face became serious in response to her tone, but he didn’t look nervous or fearful. “Okay.”

“When you told me you loved me, the first time..." She paused. "I loved you too.”

She looked at him, expecting him to tell her they didn’t need to talk about this, it was all okay. Instead, he looked calm, and focused on her. She continued, holding his hand, speaking slowly, thoughtfully.

“But I still loved Roy too, and the life I had with him, with his family. It wasn’t all great, I know, but…but it was all I knew. And to be with you I had to give it all up. It was just…I don’t know, Jim, it was just too much to decide in one moment. I wish I had said some different words, but…I don’t know why I’m talking about this, I just feel like there is the whole big thing that we never talk about, how it was for us.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking. She waited nervously, still expecting that he would find some reason why they shouldn’t talk about it, or perhaps even be angry at her for what she was saying.

“You’re right. We should. I know…I’ve been wanting to.”

They looked at each other, exchanging a glance as if to say “We’re really gonna do this?” But it was time.

He took her hand, caressed it as he thought. Finally he spoke, slowly, but with a calm, steady voice. “It’s hard…I don’t know if I can explain. It’s just…it felt like you were supposed to be with me, and for a long time I think I thought that someday you were gonna see that and it was gonna work out. But then, you were really gonna marry him, and it was making me crazy. I mean Pam, you wouldn’t even believe…I can’t describe how it was. Then, that night, the way you looked, smiled. I guess I was figured I was headed out of town anyway, what did I have to lose? I decided to give it one last try, put everything out there. I guess I didn’t think much about how it would be for you or whatever, I just...I don’t know.”

And they went on…

“I wanted to call you but it felt so weird, like it would be like I’m done with him, I’m ready for you now. And like I just left him to be with you. And I didn’t want it to be like that. I didn’t want to feel like I was unfaithful; I wanted to feel like…I don’t know. And I guess maybe I was a little mad that you just left, and I was afraid I’d call and it just wouldn’t matter.”

…

“I just figured you wanted to go back to the way it was. And I couldn’t do that. And…I guess I was still hurt, and maybe…I don’t know, maybe part of me wanted to hurt you back. But I felt ashamed of that. I’m sorry, Pam. I really am. And then just when I started to really have hope, and thinking that maybe there was a possibility, there was Roy again. And I was hurt all over. ”

…

“I knew it was a mistake the whole time, really. But just…I needed to be with somebody. For a little while. And he was there, and familiar, and it was easy, while everything else then was so hard. I had never been alone, really, and sitting by myself at that wedding and seeing you with her…I needed a break from being alone all the time.”

…

“I never felt about her the way I feel about you, not for a second. Deep down I knew it was just a temporary thing. I just kept putting off ending it as along as I could because I kept thinking I’d end up back where I started. And it was easier to just keep going. I guess…I don’t know. After the beach, I knew I think. I kept thinking of you, the way you looked at me, what you said, and I knew there was a chance there and I knew I couldn’t keep being with her. But it was still hard…I put it off as long as I could, but I couldn’t possibly have gone to New York with her. Even before I found the yogurt lid. Which was awesome, by the way.

…

“You didn’t seem like yourself with her, and I just couldn’t believe that it had all just gone away. But you would barely look at me. I didn’t know what to think.”

…

I never stopped being in love with you. I tried. But I never stopped.

…

“If I had only known…”

…

“If I had only known…”

…

“I love you.”

…

“I love you”

They told the truth with an open heart for a long time. What wasn’t understood was accepted and forgiven. They fell asleep sometime long after midnight. Pam woke up first. She had no idea of the time, but it was daylight out. He was close behind her; she could feel each breath against her neck. She felt free, safe, clean, loved.

It was all laid out before her, now. There was nothing left in their way, no shadows or clouds. With quiet contentment, she realized with a new certainty that this was it. He was hers, and she his, and nothing was going to jump from the shadows and tear them apart.

October

She spent a rare afternoon alone, painting. She would see him soon enough; he would be over late in the afternoon. They might go out, they might stay in. She didn’t care.

He had shown up one afternoon and asked her for help getting some stuff out of the car. She was puzzled, but followed him out. In his car was an easel, and a bunch of paints and canvasses. She knew they weren’t cheap, and there was no occasion.

“Jim? What are these for?”

“Beesly, you’re the artist. I really thought you knew what these are for. You use them to make pictures, I think is how it works.”

She was so genuinely pleased by the gift that she didn’t rebut his teasing. She gave him a look of happy exasperation.

“I just want to support the arts, Pam. Plus it’s our five month anniversary soon. Art supplies are the traditional five month gift. Didn’t you know that?

“Does this mean I need to go buy you some finger-paint?”

“I was thinking play-doh. But, there are alternate gift choices. We can talk about those later.”

She arched her eyebrows at him. “You have anything in particular in mind?”

He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling, and kissed her with ardor usually reserved for places other than the parking lot of her apartment.

“So, you like them?”

“Very much. Thank you.”

He was generous with her in so many ways that Roy never was. It had taken some getting use to. At first, when he did something for her or gave something to her, she would catch herself thinking it must have meant he had done something wrong, or that he expected something in return. He had worn down her cynicism, though.

And so she painted, with the paints he had given her, on the canvas he had given her. She painted in fall colors, as the leaves were just starting to turn, but she painted nothing in particular, just swirls of color. She filled the canvas with reds and oranges and browns and allowed her mind to wander. She thought of the past, not with anxiety but just simply wanting to remember. The times before him, and who she was then and what she thought was possible, seemed more and more distant. Even the traumas they went through to get here seem to have faded.

She’s not even really conscious of painting, but she snaps out of her reverie and looks at the canvas. She likes it, which is weird because she usually hates her paintings, especially the abstract ones, and she didn’t even really try with this one. But she looks at it and she really likes it. She imagines it hanging in their living room, then remembers there is no “their” living room, only “her” living room. Maybe that will change soon.

She hears a knock, knows it’s him, and rushes to the door, anxious for him to come in and see what she has done.

November

They made their way through the rugged Pennsylvania countryside on a damp Thanksgiving eve. She could sense his disapproval, and it bothered her. “He’s a good guy, Jim, really. He just…I don’t know. He’s not the hanging out kind of dad.”

She continued, speaking somewhat defensively. She wanted Jim to understand. “Most of the furniture in my apartment-he built it. He paid for my college and he didn’t get mad when I didn’t finish. And he took care of us, always. We didn’t have to worry about, you know, bills or mom having to go to work or any of that. I mean, yeah, you know, I wish he was around more, but…I don’t know. He just wasn’t that kind of dad. He loved us, he just didn’t…I don’t know.”

Although Pam was trying to defend her dad, the sadness Jim heard in her voice was an indictment, and only increased Jim’s reservations about Bill Beesly.

Pam and her mom were close, and Allison, as she made Jim call her, visited frequently and clearly loved her daughter and appreciated how great she was. She and Jim had hit off from the start and had always gotten along. Jim had always been able to charm moms.

Dads were another matter, though. Pam’s dad seemed a distant entity who was never seen and rarely spoken of. He had seen Pam talk to him briefly on the phone a few times, but it appeared he was a very small part of his daughter’s life. And Jim did disapprove of this. It didn’t make sense to him. He could not understand the idea of having a daughter and paying so little attention to her. Every now and then he got a glimpse of the hurt it caused Pam, and he would feel a little twinge of bitterness towards Bill Beesly. And so, as the time neared when they would visit Pam’s parents over Thanksgiving, he had found himself regarding the visit with a certain amount of anxiety.

It wasn’t the usual anxiety, however, of fearing that his girlfriend’s dad would hate him. He was more afraid of hating the dad. Mostly he just didn’t want to cause Pam any pain, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle himself in order to accomplish that.

For now, though, he took her hand, and gave her a brief, loving glance. He decided to lighten the mood. “Well, let’s hope he tolerates me at least. He doesn’t own a shotgun, does he?

“Two. And a shovel. I had a few boyfriends before Roy, by the way. They all disappeared.”

“Well, I’m counting on you to persuade him to spare my life.”

“I’ll do my best.” She took his hand and smiled at him, grateful for the respite from the heaviness of defending her father to Jim and herself.

Bill Beesly had never especially wanted kids, but his wife did, and he saw it as his duty to go along. He had two daughters and was grateful Allison didn’t want a third. He saw it as his responsibility to provide for them, and he had. He never took it as his responsibility to try to understand them.

Having a dad who was the way Bill Beesly was--usually at work or in his workshop or doing something other than spend time with his kids--was all Pam knew. She had accepted her dad for what he was, and perhaps couldn’t miss what she never had. Occasionally, though, she felt a twinge, sometimes of anger, sometimes of sadness, a brief flash of wishing she had that kind of dad that other people did, who doted on you and you could ask for advice and told you he loved you all the time.

They arrived, and before Jim could even be nervous, Allison was quickly swarming over them. For a minute it was just a blur of I’m so glad you’re here and don’t you look good and so good to see you and hugs and kisses and smiles.  Meanwhile, Bill waited in the background, looking uncomfortable.

“Hi, dad.” Pam hugged her father, who stiffly returned the hug and looked at Jim with a neutral expression that Jim couldn’t read. “Dad, this is Jim. Jim, this is my dad, Bill Beesly.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Beesly.” Jim smiled and gave his best handshake and tried not to think about how he really didn’t understand how a man could ignore his daughters to putter around an office or a workshop all the time. Mr. Beesly returned the handshake with only a little awkwardness, and did not ask Jim to call him Bill.

The four of them talked for a while and ate and talked for a while more, sometimes as a foursome, sometimes in pairs, with Pam and her mom working in the kitchen while their men got to know each other. Jim had somehow assumed it would be some big deal, finally meeting him. But there really wasn’t much to it. It was two slightly uncomfortable adults without a whole lot in common making conversation. They talked some Phillies and Sixers and sipped beers. Jim had assumed Mr. Beesly would be humorless, but there was a dry wit below his gruffness. The older man seemed distracted, though, and Jim imagined with a slight touch of bitterness that he was probably anxious to get back to what he really cared about; his job, building furniture, whatever. At one point, Mr. Beesly quizzed Jim about selling paper, and Jim tried not to give away how little he really cared about it. In the back of his mind, though, Jim thought that if Bill Beesly judged him for not worrying enough about work then he could fuck off. He tried to keep that sentiment below the surface. Any conflict between them would do nothing but cause stress for Pam.

But before he could worry about it too much about it, they were talking furniture, with Mr. Beesly explaining how he had made the coffee table, and Jim trying to look suitably interested and impressed. Jim thought back to the Schrute farm demonstration and almost let slip what would have been a difficult-to-explain laugh.

They had dinner and talked a little while longer and then Mr. Beesly excused himself and left a suddenly more relaxed Jim to deal with Pam and her mom. Allison, as was her custom, did most of the talking. She was disappointed that Pam’s sister couldn’t make it. She had moved to Boston and, as far as Jim could observe, wasn’t calling and visiting her mom enough to suit Allison. The affronted Mrs. Beesly managed to use about five thousand words to convey this sentiment. Jim and Pam held hands and smiled and listened happily to her rambling.

They slept, to Jim’s frustration, in separate bedrooms. Sleep evaded him; he was thinking about Beeslys. For all his differences with Bill Beesly, Jim was surprised to find he felt some warmth for the man. He could see how Pam was her father’s daughter, and it somehow relieved him. He and Pam had the same nose, same facial expressions. More than that, though, he recognized in Mr. Beesly the same understated strength he knew so well in Pam, though in her it was mixed with a warmth and compassion that wasn’t evident in him. There was something else, too. From the moment he first met Pam, he sensed that there was a lot going on just below the surface, that there was more to her than met the eye. He realized as he stared at the ceiling that he had the same sense about her dad. He decided, as sleep finally came, that he would let his judgments about the man go. After all, whatever he was or wasn’t as a father, something he had done worked.

December

They arrived at Montage Mountain around noon, a few days after Christmas. Pam was smiling to herself, excited. As they parked, she slyly stared at him in the drivers seat, noting his vaguely nervous expression. She wondered if he really didn’t think she knew what was up. She would play along, though. It was going to be an interesting hike.

There were so many clues. It could hardly have been more obvious.

First of all, the hike. They only hiked occasionally, and usually it was a spur of the moment thing on a nice day. But this was a hike in late December that he had planned days in advance. He suggested it on Christmas day, Tuesday, noting the forecast for the unusually warm Thursday. He had tried to sound casual, but she could sense a catch in his voice that immediately aroused her suspicions. And he had mentioned it a few times since, just making sure she still wanted to go. On top of that, the hike was to the same place where they had been in a few times in the summer when they were first dating, and had some romantic moments.

And also there was the way he had been lately. It was hard to pinpoint exactly, but he seemed to have a certain nervous energy recently. She could sense his mood easily these days. She had a favorite aunt who told her once, “Men don’t tell you what they’re thinking, so you gotta learn to figure it out for yourself.” She had taken it to heart. She could feel it when he really cared about a football game, could sense it when work was dragging him down. She knew instantly when something really excited him, and wished it happened more often. Most importantly for today, she could easily tell when he was really nervous, when something really big was on his mind.

There was more. A few times recently, Jim had talked about the future, in some way that implied they would still be together.  "Next year we’ll go to my parent’s place for Thanksgiving.” But it wasn’t just that he said them, it was that after he said them he could feel him studying her reaction. She knew she had smiled.

Other little pieces fit too. They were watching TV once, and a jewelry store commercial came on and she noticed him paying attention to it. She had noticed he had been a little more frugal lately, noticed that he didn’t go too overboard on Christmas gifts.

Really, though, it was more than all the clues. She could feel the rhythm of their relationship, and she knew he could too. And it was time for them. She knew she would never leave him, and that he would never leave her, and that they wanted the same things, a life together, a family someday. They had only been together seven months, but that was long enough for them.

She hoped that he wasn’t too anxious about her response. She had learned, over the months, that underneath his easygoing exterior, Jim was a worrier, particularly when it came to them. She could feel his anguish if she stayed mad a little too long, could feel his anxiety on the rare occasions when they got disconnected. She hated to think of him worrying about what her answer would be; she hoped that he had the same trust that she did that they were forever.

She was giddy through the whole hike. Truthfully it wasn’t just what she knew was coming; it was also the fun of having figured it out. As they walked, her suspicions were confirmed. He was obviously, charmingly, nervous. She didn’t mention it; if he wanted to pretend nothing was up, she would go along with his game. Still she thought he badly underestimated her if he really thought she bought his casual facade.

“You’re in a good mood today, Beesly,” he remarked at one point.

“Yep,” she replied simply, and kissed him, smiling. She really couldn’t help herself, but she also figured he would be less likely to chicken out if she let her happiness and love for him show a little more than usual.

They came to their spot, a sunny clearing where they always stopped. She could feel his tension growing, and it was so adorable it only served to make her smile bigger. He stopped, looked at her, took a breath.

She was smiling widely, a smile that was close to joyous laughter. It was contagious; he broke into a smile despite his anxiety. He took another breath and started to reach into his pocket, when somehow the expression on her face clued him on the truth

“Oh my God…you know, don’t you? How…you…How did you know?

“Know what?” She feigned innocence very unconvincingly, still smiling. She tried not to look a little smug, but knew she was probably failing.

Jim shook his head a little, happily defeated, a little confused, slightly exasperated. “This was supposed to be a big surprise. How did you…did you find the ring?

“What ring? I have no idea what you are talking about, Jim.” She stifled a giggle.

He had been beaten fair and square, he decided, and he simply forged ahead. “This ring,” he said, pulling the case out of his pocket and opening it. “You know, I really had thought this moment would happen without you giggling.” He tried to sound irritated, but her joyous smile overwhelmed any disappointment he might have had at his inability to surprise her.

She saw the ring, and momentarily lost her breath. It was bigger than it really should be, and perfect, and…wow it was huge. Jim saw her expression and felt like perhaps he had saved a little face. She didn’t quite seem to be expecting that.

She recovered her smile, though, and waited quietly, stifling a laugh. Jim just stood there, a sheepish expression on his face. She spoke softly. “Anything you want to ask me?”

He decided to go through it as he had originally planned, and dropped to a knee. The words would hardly come, though. “Pam, I…:”

“Yes!” She threw herself at him, knocking him over. He put the ring on her finger as they lay sprawled on the ground together.

Pam looked at the ring again, now perched on her finger, and to her own surprise cried tears of joy. Sometimes, she supposed, it just doesn’t matter if you know it’s coming or not.

January

She was plugging along with her art classes and painting when she had the chance. She still wasn’t quite sure about the future. A career in graphic design was intriguing, but daunting. She liked the idea of teaching art, and thought that might be a possibility. Or, she could still be happy for a while working in an office and doing art for fun, working to get better. She felt relaxed about the whole thing, like she had a lot of good choices. It was Jim’s future that was troubling her.

She felt guilty for being frustrated with him. After the years of holding back, they had both really learned to open up with each other. He was a great listener and quite willing and able to talk about his own feelings, at least when it came to his feelings about her or their relationship. When it came to talking about himself though, his own hopes, dreams, what he wanted from life besides just to be with her…he was still exasperatingly reticent.

Ever since she had known him, she felt he deserved something better than selling paper under the likes of Michael Scott. It wasn’t difficult for her to see that Dunder-Mifflin was taking its toll on him; she could often feel his frustration with the emptiness of the job and the absurdity of the work environment. She had delicately attempted, several times, to feel out his willingness to consider making a move, but he always managed to shut her down with vague answers and a quick change of topic, and body language that clearly told her she better let it drop.

So, even as she witnessed Jim spinning his wheels on a daily basis, even as she could plainly see his potential being wasted, she was reluctant to give him any sort of push to think about taking action and finding something better. She could still remember his face crumbling as she innocently encouraged him to consider a better job in Maryland years ago, and the last thing she wanted was to give him any reason to think that who he was right now wasn’t good enough for her. Still, though, she thought she needed to do something. She could sense things getting worse for him at work, could often palpably feel his annoyance, frustration, sometimes even his despair as they drove to or from work or rehashed the day.

One Monday, life at Dunder-Mifflin had been particularly exasperating. Over the course of the night, they commiserated and complained about it. She started to think that maybe if she was careful, she could at least plant a seed in his mind without him shutting down on her. She bided her time. When they were in bed, drifting slowly towards sleep, connected, relaxed, sated, she made her move. Lying on her side, she cuddled up to him tightly, her arm across his chest as he lay on his back.

“So hopefully work will be better tomorrow, huh?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah, I’m sure it will be great.”

She took a breath and spoke softly, soothingly. “I just want you to know…we can go anywhere, you know. If you want to do anything else, go anywhere else. I just think you deserve better. I want you to be happy, Jim. I can only be happy if you’re happy.”

Even as gently as she put it, she worried he would interpret it as a veiled attack for not having more ambition, but she could feel as she said it that he didn’t tense up, didn’t pull away from her at all. He didn’t reply at first, but squeezed her hand and leaned into her a bit. He was silent, his eyes closed, and she thought for a moment that he had just gone to sleep. Finally, though, he opened his eyes and spoke, staring straight up, looking as if the words were difficult to find. “I…I’m thinking about it. I just…I don’t know. I don’t want this forever, though.” His tone changed, and he did his usual bit of lightening the mood with a joke. “I mean it might be nice to have a boss other than Michael at some point, I guess.”

She smiled at him, and he finally turned to her. To her great relief, she found his eyes full of love and gratitude. “Thanks,” he said, pulling her closer and closing his eyes again.

She would have preferred, truthfully, a serious and honest conversation about what he really wanted and what they could do to make it happen. Maybe someday. For now, she could live with him pulling her closer and going to sleep.

February

“Cookies and cream it is. Shouldn’t I just go ahead and get the big size? You’ll just eat the pint and send me out again later.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, okay. Back in a few.”

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Go ahead and get the big size.”

It wasn’t the first he had made a nighttime grocery store run to get ice cream for her. He had just moved in with her a few weeks ago, after his lease was up. It wasn’t really all that dramatic a change for them, but his bachelor habits of missing the hamper or leaving a towel on the floor were dying hard, so he tried to atone by willingly serving as her errand boy. Mostly it was ice cream, sometimes miscellaneous chocolate products. She obstinately refused to buy them to keep on hand, but would often decide she had to have something, usually something very specific. He had gone out for bags of Hershey’s kisses, for Dove Bars, for a handful of particular flavors of ice cream. She would make some remark about how good something would be right now, and he would just go ahead and get his keys. Tonight it was Edy’s Cookies and Cream.

He put on the Sixers game as he made the short drive to the store. The game was on a new Philadelphia sports radio station that only reached Scranton at night. As if it was fate, he heard the commercial again. The station needed “Motivated sales professionals” to “come be a part of Philly’s new winning team.” He had heard it before a few times and his curiosity had been piqued. He had checked it out online. The station needed people to sell ads on the air and on their website.

When he heard the ad this time, Jim got a knot in his stomach. He realized he actually wanted to do it. He had told himself before that they weren’t likely to hire someone whose only sales experience was at a struggling paper company. He told himself that before that he couldn’t ask Pam to move to Philadelphia. He knew, however, that he was bullshitting himself on both counts. If he could manage to get an interview, they would hire him. He would never say it, but truthfully he had always believed that if he could get an interview that he would get the job. And he also knew that Pam would be happy to move to Philadelphia. Even before she had said anything, he could read her well enough to know that she was not averse to leaving Dunder-Mifflin and Scranton. Philadelphia surely had better opportunities in art and graphic design than Scranton did.

Her lease would be up at the end of March, and they planned on finding a new place together. They were to be married the Saturday before Labor Day. They were starting a life together. Jim could not see day after day at Dunder-Mifflin being a part of it for very long. For one thing, he simply wasn’t happy there. More importantly, though, as good as he was at coasting along, he was feeling more and more every day that he owed it to her to find something better. He thought of them having a family, and didn’t like the idea of the means to support that family hinging on the likes of Michael Scott and a struggling company that was considering downsizing from month to month. So, it was time.

He brought back a half-gallon of ice cream. She ate much more than a pint of it, though he had the good sense not to make a comment on that. From there, the night followed their typical pattern. She was leaning up against him on the couch; they had turned the TV off and the music on, and were just enjoying doing nothing. Typically, for them, doing nothing would lead in fairly short order to doing something. Pam snuggled into him a little tighter and casually stroked his hand. He didn’t respond. She rubbed her bare foot against his ankle. She still got no response, and it occurred to her that Jim had seemed a little distracted since he got home. Something was up. Of course if she asked him what was up he would say nothing. She just had to wait.

Jim felt his stomach tighten, and realized he had probably given himself away by now. She could always tell when something was on his mind. He was grateful she hadn’t pressed him. He really didn’t relish discussing his plans, but it was weighing too heavily on him. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he did.

“So, you know how I listen to the Sixers games sometimes?”

“Yeah?” Pam replied somewhat quizzically. She was puzzled; she could hear tension in his voice, but she couldn’t imagine how his listening to basketball in the car could relate to anything important.

“The radio station is hiring salespeople to sell advertising time.”

Pam desperately hoped he meant what she thought he meant. She knew Jim would prefer her not to make a big deal of it, though, so she tried to stay low-key. “Interesting. I happen to know a good salesman. And he likes sports.”

He was silent for a moment, and she wondered if he was going to blow it off or minimize it, or start coming up with reasons why he shouldn’t go for it. To her surprise, he did the opposite.

“Yeah…I think I want to do it, Pam. I mean…look into it at least. If you would really be okay with us going to Philly.”

Hearing him finally show a little ambition, hearing the possibility of a change…it was the most exciting thing Pam had heard since he had proposed to her. She held back, though, not wanting to pressure him or make him feel like she would be disappointed if it didn’t work out. She smiled warmly at him. “Absolutely I would. And you‘ll be great, Jim. The station would be lucky to have you.”

He smiled at her a little uncomfortably; this just was not an easy subject for him. She sensed that he didn’t really want to talk about it, but realized there might be other ways for her to communicate her strong approval of the ambitious version of Jim. Ways that fit in with her own ambitions for the evening.

“I guess that explains earlier,” she said in a light tone.

Jim looked at her blankly. “Explains what?”

“You‘ve been missing signals, mister. When I rub my foot against your ankle, I expect a response.”

“I’m deeply ashamed. If you’d care to do it again, I promise to respond more properly.”

“Actually, I think we can skip that part.”

And so Jim, who a moment ago was nervously hoping that they could change the subject and he could relax, suddenly found himself pinned under a flurry of auburn curls and urgent kisses. Next thing he knew, clothes were flying every which way. He briefly wondered whether their living room shades were drawn, then realized he really didn’t care. He decided simply to go along for whatever ride she had in mind.

She pulled out all the stops, did the things that she knew he liked best but he didn’t like to ask for. Her passion was genuine, but she also had a message to deliver; this is what you get when you take a chance on something, Jim. It wasn’t long before she pushed him over the top, way, way over the top, and they collapsed in a tangled mass on the couch. She snuck a glance at his face and saw one of her favorite expressions, a loopy grin that seemed to say he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Hurricane Beesly, as he teasingly called her, struck again in bed later that night and once more the next morning, just in case he hadn’t gotten the message the first time.

Tired in the best possible way, she stayed in bed while he showered, and felt in her heart that their days at that ridiculous office would finally end soon. They could start something new together that would be just theirs. A new home, new jobs, a new marriage. She felt free and safe and happy, and only minded a little that, despite the promising developments, they still both had to be at work in an hour. Or maybe two hours. The world wouldn’t end if they were late this morning.