To say that the first hour of his day is rough would be an understatement.  He wakes up at 8:31, which means he has to be sitting in his office chair in 29 minutes.  Seeing the shape he is in, he knows that hoping to make it on time is futile.  He can’t find his bicycle - it must have stayed behind at the office the night before - but it doesn’t matter since there’s no way in hell he’s expending any energy pedaling to the office when his head feels like a bowling ball.  A bowling ball that has a slight throbbing quality to it.  He now remembers why he had put a stop to drinking too much on weeknights.  The next day always feels like it stretches on for 48 hours.

He hops in the shower for all of 30 seconds, soaping up as a mere formality. He grabs the first shirt and tie he sees in his closet, and goes about searching for his keys and his cell phone.  After five minutes, he is able to locate his keys on the coffee table- how they landed there the night before, he has no clue- but his cell phone is nowhere to be found.  Hopefully, it hasn’t vanished since it would make it the second phone he has lost in three months and isn’t looking forward to buying yet another one.

_________________

9:18.  He makes it to the office in good time.  He drops a paper bag on his desk, removes his jacket, and places it on the back of his chair along with his shoulder bag.  He opens the brown paper bag.  Egg McMuffin, hash brown, and coffee: the breakfast of hungover champions.

“I’m surprised you didn’t call in sick.  In fact, I’m surprised you’re walking upright," says a voice right behind him.

“It was tempting to stay in bed all day, even more than usual, which is saying a lot considering I sell paper for a living.  You drove me home last night, didn’t you?”

“I did.  It was an interesting ride…”

“Please tell me I wasn’t sick in your car.”

“Nothing like that.  You’re just…an entertaining drunk.  I was treated to the greatest hits of the 90s.  Apparently, Lovefool was only the tip of the iceberg.  You knew Ice Ice Baby, Runaway Train, What’s Up, and when we got to your place, you’d gotten to I’m Too Sexy.  I think you missed your calling as a karaoke superstar,” says Karen, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

Jim bows his head, staring glassy-eyed at the breakfast food on his desk. “I didn’t get to 80s hair bands?  You really missed out.  That’s my most exclusive act.”

Jim starts feeling a little self-conscious to have let a cute colleague see him act like such an idiot.  At least, drunk Jim had fun, which happens only too rarely these days.  The last time tipsy Jim had enjoyed a drink or two was on a casino night in the warehouse so many months ago, and he would rather not think about that.

“Thanks for getting me home safe.  Do you happen to know where I left my bike?  It doesn’t seem to be in here…”

“I think you left it against the building…” The ringing from her desk interrupts her thought. “Somewhere near the parking.  Sorry, I have to get that.”

Ugh.  This means he actually has to expend energy to retrieve his bicycle.  He was hoping not to move all day.  Might as well go about it like the removal of a band aid; in one quick shot.  He can spend the rest of the day in his chair staring at his computer screen.  His job is usually pretty accommodating of his behaving like a motionless drone.  

He hoists himself out of his chair to the rhythmic tapping of Karen’s pen as she chatters away on the phone.  This is going to be a long day.

_____________________

The cool October wind whips Jim’s face as he exits the building.  This seems to wake him up further, and somehow freezes the headache that has been gnawing at him since he woke up. 

He walks around the building to find his bicycle leaning against the far wall in the parking lot.  He picks it up, walks it to his car, and realizes that he has taken his bicycle rack that he usually stores in his trunk out the previous weekend in prevision of a trip to IKEA.  He is in no mood to attempt to fit his bike with its stupid basket in his trunk.  It usually takes a fair amount of jiggling, of back seats being pulled down, and a lot of patience, which is just not in the cards today.  He sighs and decides to take the bike with him inside the building.  He will deal with this…another day.

As he walks towards the entrance, he notices a glittery reflection next to the bushes.  His cell phone!  He bends down to pick it up, dusts the bits of dirt and leaves that have accumulated on it, and opens it.  It comes to life.  At least, the fall hasn’t damaged it.  He sees a blinking light indicating he has two text messages.  The first is from his friend Mike asking if he wants to go out tonight for drinks and a couple of games of pool.  He replies, “Gotta pass. Hungover.” 

The second text is most unexpected.  It’s from Pam, who he has not heard from in almost six months.  The message is impersonal at best and cryptic at worst.  “You owe me 20$.  Cough up ASAP!”  He shuts his phone, and slips it in his pants’ pocket.  He will deal with this… another day.

She hates driving because it gives her too much time to think.  At the moment, her thoughts are making her feel increasingly foolish.  It’s strangely similar to that queasy feeling she used to get in grade 9 when Mr. Hart would put her on the spot in algebra class.  Of course, he didn’t reply to last night’s text.  What kind of idiot couldn’t see this coming? Things haven’t changed.  He’s still peeved at her.  He hasn’t called all summer, and certainly doesn’t want to talk to her anymore.  She hurt him, and that won’t get magically fixed.  But somehow she thought that he might be willing to overlook all of this for the sake of a bet and a great story.

She and Jim used to make all types of bets.  Stupid bets like whether Kelly would wear pink every day for two whole weeks.  After four days of either a pink top or pink pants - and sometimes, horror of horrors, a whole pink outfit - Jim had decided to wager 20 dollars she would stick with pink clothes for two weeks. Pam had been pretty sure it wouldn’t happen since Kelly tended to have theme weeks: paisley week, bright yellow week, polka dot week,...  She would never stick to the same theme for two weeks.  Unfortunately for her, Kelly had spent a full month looking like someone had dropped a bottle of Pepto Bismol on her.  Ugh.

One of their last wagers before Jim left for Stamford happened a few days after Michael’s birthday party. 

She had walked into the break room, exasperated, to find Jim calmly sipping his grape soda and reading the newspaper.

“What am I gonna do?  Michael won’t stop talking about Carol.  He keeps calling me into his office.  He hasn’t even asked her out yet, but he needs to know what candle scents women prefer to set a romantic mood, what colour of satin sheets he needs to get …”

“You’ll be able to add love expert to your resume.  I suggest bringing him a stack of Cosmos to satisfy his curiosity.  What say you, Cupid?”

“I’m not sure I’d be safe from embarrassing moments if he has in his hands articles like ‘100 Ways to Blow His Mind’ or ‘Am I Normal Down There?’” 

Jim had chuckled in response.

She had continued. “He actually asked me whether he should buy the engagement ring right now to be on the safe side. I’m just waiting for her to drop by the office, and for him to propose in front of everybody before they’ve even gone on a first date.”

“Even Michael knows better than to propose in front of the whole office.”

“Okay, Halpert, if you’re so sure, put 20 bucks on that."

“Deal.”

Pam couldn’t wait to share the proposal that had occurred at the Diwali celebration because she knew that Jim was one of the few people who could truly appreciate Michael’s breadth of ability as far as bold and humiliating moves were concerned.  Plus, both she and Jim took bragging rights to bets they won seriously.

After waiting a whole day without getting a reply, she now feels like an idiot.  Of course he doesn’t care about all of this anymore.  He’s put Scranton behind him. 

She pulls into her apartment building’s parking lot, slams the car door, and heads inside.

______________________

 He can’t sleep.  It’s 2 a.m., and he just keeps tossing and turning.  He’s exhausted, and a headache is still gnawing at him.  He’s tried everything to sleep.  Sitcom reruns and boring newscasts didn’t do him in.  He’s apparently neither hungry, thirsty nor horny.  The problem is Pam, of course.  He could recognize that restless, can’t stop thinking about her sign anywhere.

He really thought he had put this nonsense behind him.  After he got her text message, he had gone about his whole day without thinking about her.  Nothing.  If he had learned anything in Scranton, it was the art of repression.  However, his head hitting the pillow had been the moment for all those thoughts to come popping back up, bouncing around like tennis balls.  It’s a fierce match too, something akin to a Federer/Nadal meet up. 

He just hates himself for even considering answering her message.  She hadn’t bothered calling him to tell him she had called off the wedding.  He even had to hear from Michael that she was dating.  DATING.  So Pam ever dating him?   Clearly not happening.  So why does he want to torture himself by contacting her?

But maybe it could be different.  He is far from Scranton.  He is leading a different life.  If anything, it may just be the closure he needs.  He really should talk to her.

He reaches for his cell phone on his night stand.  He flips it open.  “Need explanation.  Call me. 203 555 4257.”  He hits “send” quickly before he changes his mind, and places the phone back besides his lamp.

Who is he kidding?  He knows telling her to call him is a stupid idea, but he just wants to hear her voice.  He turns off the light, pulls on his bed covers, and falls asleep within 30 seconds.

She stares at the clock.  7:30 pm.  Yeah, that should be fine to call.  He should have had his dinner by now.  If his routine is the same as it was in Scranton, he is either washing his dishes or watching television at the moment.  Why is she agonizing over this?  It’s a simple phone call.

She had noticed his message as she was fishing the building keys from her purse this morning.  She loved carrying a large purse, but it seemed as if she always had to empty it to find what she was looking for.  As she was rummaging through to find her Dunder-Mifflin key ring, she noticed her phone was beeping.  He had replied… He wanted her to call.  Huh.

So she had spent the day thinking that she should call, wanting to call, but being afraid she would disturb him.  Okay, so she knew he wouldn’t likely mind being disturbed at work – he couldn’t have changed THAT much – but what she would say to him?  It was going to be awkward.  It was going to be weird.  Courage was slipping through her fingers as the hours passed.

Which brings her to 7:30.  Staring at the clock.  Watching the phone.  She has to call - the text message was her idea after all – and she’s run out of excuses to delay it any further.

__________________

This had kept him up all night, and she hadn’t even bothered to reply?  Great.  He decides to channel that frustration into running.  The rhythmic hitting of the pavement will do wonders for his morale.

As he jogs down Shippan Ave., he feels his cell phone vibrate in the pocket of his hoodie.  He slows down to answer.

“Hello?”

“ Hey Jim.”

That voice.

“Hey.”

“Am I catching you at a bad time?  I can call back later…”

He stops and takes a seat on a bus stop bench nearby.

“No, no, no.  It’s okay.  I was just out and about.  So what’s up?  I owe you money apparently.”

“Well, yeah… Michael proposed to Carol.  At a party in front of 150 people.”

He can hear the giddiness in her voice.  It’s not malice, just the pure joy of having being able to predict one of those surreal moments that working for Michael Scott brings into your life.  He can’t help but share a bit of her enthusiasm.

“No way!”

“Yes way, and it was as humiliating as it sounds because she didn’t even say yes.  It was mortifying.”

“Poor Michael...”

“I’d warned him not to do this though.  He just can’t help himself.”

“Still, what a way to have your heart crushed.  That’s gotta be hard to recover from.”

So there it is.  The elephant in the room.  He hears her take a deep breath.

“Well, you know… Poor Carol too.  What a position to be in.  I don’t think she meant to hurt or humiliate him.”

He thinks he is hearing an apology in her voice, but he may be dreaming it.  He needs to take this back on more solid ground.

“Anyway, you won fair and square so you’ll be getting a check in the mail.”

“You really don’t have to… I’m much more interested in bragging rights.”

“A bet’s a bet.”

“Really, it’s not necessary...  A mention in the company newsletter of my clear superior powers of perception will be sufficient.”

She giggles.  He’s really missed that laugh.

“I could do that… I could also buy you coffee.  It’s only fair.  I’m coming to Scranton to see my parents next weekend anyway…”

Will he ever learn?  Everything is going smoothly, and he has to do that.  Blame it on the endorphins from running.  Or the high he’s getting from just talking to her.

“Well…”

“I understand if you’re busy.  It’s okay.”

“It’d be nice.”

“Saturday afternoon?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll give you a call around noon on Saturday, and we can decide where to meet.”

“Sounds good.  See you then.”

“Bye.”

The run home is surprisingly easy.

____________________

 A Saturday afternoon coffee was one outcome of this phone call she didn’t see coming.  The call was a little awkward, but there was not really the anger that she thought he still carried with him.  The ease that had always existed between them was still there.  They always understood each other with few words.

That wasn’t quite true.  He didn’t get why she had said no to him in the parking lot that night so long ago.  He had placed her in an impossible situation.  She had spent years building a life, and he had expected her to drop it all for him.  You can’t make decisions like that at the drop of a hat.  But he hadn’t been willing to wait.

Truth be told, it was not like she had given him anything to wait for…  She still cared for him so much.  Okay, it was more than that.  But she thought he had moved on with his life. 

For the first time in a long time, she thinks, “Maybe not.”

Cleaning her whole apartment that night is surprisingly easy.

She keeps checking her watch. Only 2:56 p.m.  Time seems to have slowed down significantly in the last three hours.

Jim had called at noon as promised, and they had settled for a three o’clock meeting at a little café close to her place.  She had tried on far too many outfits before settling on a pair of jeans, purple v-necked top, a black blazer, and black kitten heels.  She thought she looked good without looking like she tried too hard.  She had walked to the café and had arrived at 2:45.  So much for not being overly eager.

While she waits, she tries to read a book, because she doesn’t even want to think what they will talk about.  She feels like she owes him an explanation about her cancelled wedding, but she feels her excuses for not calling won’t sound anything but terribly lame.

She sees the coffee shop’s door open and Jim strolls in.

“Hey… Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“We said three o’clock so you’re right on time.”  She flashes him a smile.

“Before I sit, what can I get you?”

“A latte with skim milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

She watches him walk up to the counter.  His limbs are so long and yet, he really is graceful.  She had always enjoyed watching him walk away from her desk, but had told herself it was all purely observational.  Looking back on it, when anyone else was walking away from her desk, she thought absolutely nothing of it.  With the exception of Michael, of course, but that’s just because she was thrilled to get a few minutes of peace and quiet.  There was something about Jim that was just…Hmph.  Better not go down that train of thought at the moment.  She feels on edge enough as it is.

_________________________

A few minutes later, he returns with two steaming mugs.  He’s just thrilled to see her.  She looks happy to see him too, which is still surprising to him.  He had spent the summer picturing them meeting as incredibly awkward.  Pouring your heart out and being rejected does tend to put a kink in a relationship.

He sits and they start talking.  She talks of her new apartment, of art classes she has started taking, and a million little things like that.  He talks of his new coworkers – yes, he is somehow now called Big Tuna -  of a life in Stamford, and of missing his friends back home. 

The next time he looks at his watch, two hours have flown by.  It feels so easy, chatting away like that.  They’ve caught up; they talked of fairly safe topics.  Still, he feels he has to go now.  It’s been a lovely afternoon, but he can’t fall for her all, and end up heartbroken all over again.     

“I think I should go… ”  He sees a look of panic in her eyes.

“Don’t go.  Maybe we could go for dinner…”

“Well, we’re all even now with bets, right?”

“Not quite…”

She reaches over the table and kisses him.  Her lips linger for a few seconds, and when she pulls away, her face has turned rosy.  He’s not sure what just happened. 

________________

She decided to go for it.  All afternoon, she had searched for but hadn’t found the words to express how she wanted their relationship to change so she pulled out the big guns.  Or maybe it was just some impulse in her body that decided to go for it.  He couldn’t leave not knowing the score.

He still looks like a deer caught in headlights so she figures she needs to try to put it verbally.

“I know I called you because of the bet, but it wasn’t the reason…  I’ve wanted to call for a while.  I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

His befuddled eyes turn sad, and his voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks.

“Why didn’t you call to tell me the wedding was off?”

“I don’t know… It’s stupid.  After telling Roy it was over, I spent days cancelling the wedding that I’d spent months organizing.  I had to call all the guests and explain the situation at least fifty times.  The problem was that I didn’t really have a good explanation for what had happened.  Not one that I wanted to share anyway.  I was just too overwhelmed to even think about calling you.  After that died down, I went into hiding for a while.  For most of July and August, all I did was show up at work, and speak as little as I could get away with.  At home, the only person I’d talk to was my mom.  I just… I knew I’d done the right thing, but I was still so sad and lost.  It made no sense in my mind.  By the time I started getting my bearings back, I felt guilty for not having called… I felt terrible for what had happened back in May.  I thought you hated me.”

“Pam…”

“You left the next day.  What was I supposed to think?”

“I just couldn’t watch you get married… I just couldn’t.”

“I’m really sorry for not calling.  I’m sorry for so many things that have happened.”  She hopes he can see how sincerely saddened she is by all of this.

“Thanks.  I think we’ve had our share of misunderstandings over the years.”

All of a sudden, the café feels too public a setting for this conversation.  There are only a few couples and groups scattered in the room, but she feels too exposed for deep apologies and emotional confessions. 

“Not that it’ll make up for everything, but do you want to have dinner tonight?  I can cook something simple, and maybe we can really talk.  Righting the wrongs, cleaning the slate and all that.”

“That sounds good.”

“The only thing is that you’ll need to drive me to the grocery store, and help me pick out ingredients.”

“Wow, Beesly, already taking advantage of me.  I’m disappointed in you.”

She laughs as she gets up from the table.  As they walk out of the café, he feels his right hand brush against her side.  She takes this as a sign and links her fingers through his.  She sees his grin out of the corner of her eye, and feels a lightheartedness that has been missing in her life.

Things are finally looking up instead of sideways.