*

*

If anyone had told me four years ago that I would be sharing juice boxes with the guy who broke my heart, the one who turned me into a sobbing-ice-cream-eating mess, I would’ve advised them to see a shrink. I relocated to the middle of nowhere only to have him dump me six months later for the girl next door. So, sharing anything with him was…out of the question. But life will always try to tie all its loose ends, and Jim Halpert was my loose end.

After the fall of Dunder-Mifflin, my branch was given the ‘x’ a short time after Christmas. It didn’t come as a surprise—sales were down, customer volume was low…. Anyone with half a brain would have put two and two together. And let’s be honest, when the most profitable branch has Michael Scott for branch manager—what does that say about the company’s infrastructure?

Dan, my husband, was very supportive and gave me freedom to pursue anything I chose to do. At one point I even considered being a stay-a-home mom. I know, shocked me too. Five years ago I’d never consider it. Heck, four years ago I’d never have believed it. But then Ethan, my little guy, came along and changed me.

Well, I took the obligatory time off and later found another managing position at a fairly large office supply distributor, Staples. Yeah, I think it was for the best. They are more flexible when it comes to taking time off and the pay is definitely better.

Well enough of me…going back to Jim Halpert.

I’m in New York with Dan because he has some sort of dermatological convention this weekend. Since I can’t remember the last time the three of us went away together, we took the opportunity to make it a family trip. It’s always nice to take a break from our busy-office life, plus, I love New York.

It’s a beautiful, sunny day today and while Dan is in meetings, I decide to take Ethan to Madison Square Park. I am here for nearly ten minutes before I see this lanky-form of a man walk into the playground with a little girl hoisted on his hip.

I do a double take because I can’t believe my eyes. James Duncan Halpert, commitment-phobic—‘Karen you living a block away is like we’re living together’—is toting a bubbly baby girl in his arms. I watch him lower her down and she stands on wobbly legs, holding tightly onto his jeans. She cranes her curly head to look up at him and bounces on her feet—not a bit pleased to be standing on her own. She then opens and closes her tiny hands to be picked up, saying, “Da-da.”

Confirmed, that’s his kid. Not that there’s was any doubt.

That being said, she’s a cutie. Her hair is golden colored, her cheeks are rosey and chubby, and her eyes, well…they are his. She’s wearing a striped shirt with shirred patch-pocketed shorts, and baby eyelet espadrilles. She’s a little babe right out of a babyGap catalogue.

Jim bends down to the little dumpling’s level, says something to her, and kisses her little nose. She scrunches her tiny features and brings her index finger to touch his nose. He makes some ‘munching’ noise and nibbles on her fingers. A cheeky smile breaks across her face and I can hear a flurry of giggles erupt as he picks her up and lifts her over his shoulder.

Jim reminds me a lot of Dan. Dan is amazing with Ethan, very patient and calm—I get a bit jealous sometimes. He gets to be the ‘cool’ parent more often than not.

Jim starts walking around the perimeter of the park and the curious munchkin points to things and he laughs and replies to her inquiries. He gestures to the slide and the swings, but little baby Halpert wants nothing to do with it. She’s not detaching from him anytime soon. He makes all the way around the playground and now he’s coming towards where I’m seated.

It’s now or never.

“Hey...” I say, but my voice is swallowed by all the near noises. “Halpert,” I say a little louder. He stops and looks around but doesn’t seem to know where it’s coming from. So I try again.

“Halpert!”

This time he turns in my direction and finally sees me. Needles to say, he’s surprised.

“Oh my God…” He walks towards me with his mouth hanging wide open. “Karen Filippelli? I can’t believe it.”

He pulls the little cutie patootie from his shoulders and sits next to me with her on his lap. We greet with an awkward, sideways hug and the little babe sandwiched between us looks up at me with these killer green eyes—definitely his kid.

“How’s it hanging?” I want to seem nonchalant.

“Good, you?”

“I’m good too.”

There’s a awkward moment where I know the reality of this reunion is just sinking in his big head. So I venture out—stating the obvious, “I see you got busy there.” I tickle the little girl and she contorts into Jim’s chest, but offers me a lopsided grin. Of course.

He chuckles, “Karen, this is my daughter Cecelia.”

“Hi Cecelia.”

“Say, “Hi,’” he beckons her, but she nuzzles her doll face into his shirt. He shrugs and says, “We’ve taught her no manners.”

“Mine is over there,” I say pointing to my little brown-haired man about three feet away with dirt on his shirt. “That’s Ethan.”

“How old is he now?”

“He’s two.”

“Cecelia is fourteen months.”

“I thought I worked quickly, but you guys... The last time I saw Pam, you had just gotten engaged. And two years later, boom, you’re on diaper duty with a one year old.”

He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he says, blushing. “Cece was kind of a wonderful surprise.”

I laugh. “Kind of? Halpert, you’re saying that the afterschool specials taught you nothing?”

“Haha… what about him,” he points to Ethan. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t even seeing anyone.”

“What? You don’t know that. I think I was—Ethan,” I say directing my attention to my little rascal. “Put that down.” He is holding some branch thing or something. “Thank you…. As I was saying, by that time I was ‘seeing’—”

“Doubted it.” He interrupts.

“Well, I am not you! You went on a date the same day you broke up with me.” I counter back.

“Ouch, that was low.”

I smirk slyly at him. It’s nice to be able to joke around like we used too. I think we’re finally at a point where we can, perhaps, put the past behind us.

“So, how’s Pam?” I ask, changing the subject. They’re still together—I’m not blind, I see the ring on his ring finger. Plus, Cecelia is definitely Pam’s daughter. Jim’s hair is not curly and her cute little nose, well… is not his.

“She’s great. We are here because she’s trying to see if her credits from Pratt can be transferred to a local college in Scranton. So we made it a family trip.”

“Yep, we’re here because Dan has this dermatology convention thingy.” We nod at the coincidence. “You know, Pam seemed really happy when I saw her.”

“Yeah…” He’s distracted. Cecelia is contorting in his arms trying to free herself from his grasp. “You want out now?” He asks and lets her slide from his lap to stands between his legs.

“Yeah….I hope she was,” he turns back to me.

“I should’ve known about you guys.” I chuckle at the bitter past. Looking back, I cringe as how blind I was.

“You were blinded by the Halpert charm.” He says smugly—always going for comic relief. We share a laugh ‘cause there’s isn’t an ounce of regret between us. “You know,” he continues, “I don’t think I ever apologized for—”

Aaaand there’s the essence behind Jim Halpert, and I have to tease him for it. “You’re sap now Halpert? No apologies…I’m carrying this one to the grave.” He laughs, but knows I kid and that everything turned out for the best. “But we had fun, uh?”

He nods, “We did.” He looks pensively down at Cecelia and twists one of her curls between his fingers, then looks back at me. “Remember how that girl almost hit you at Poor Richard’s that one time?”

Yes, I vividly do. “Oh my God! Yes! You just stood there looking pathetic.”

“Karen, I know better than to get between a girl fight.”

“Well, she got her ass kicked.”

“Not by you.”

“That’s not the point.”

We venture further down memory lane, sharing juice boxes and goldfishes, talking and laughing and just finally being friends. I talk about my job and he talks about Sabre, the company that bought out Dunder-Mifflin. He updates me on the other workers and recaps his experience as a co-manager with Michael—what a stupid idea. We exchange ‘Charles Minor’ stories and I can definitely commiserate with him. That guy was an ass.

His face immediately lights up when we talk about our babes. He gushes about Cecelia and I laugh at how whipped he is. He talks about how she’s walking and starting to talk and having her own little girly quirks. I remember when Ethan was that age… I feel nostalgic. My baby is growing up too fast.

We share our rookie mistakes, sleepless nights, and labor fiascos. He tells me Pam went crazy during labor…. Well, I can sympathize with that.

“I was in labor for 15 hours before Ethan arrived.”

“Pfff…That’s nothing. Pam was in labor for 19 hours. She was having contractions for another 5 hours before that. Cecelia,” he says cleaning the goldfish crumbs from her pouty lips. “Took her sweet time getting here.”

“Ethan just didn’t want to come out. I was past my due date. I had to be induced.”

“I read about that and that’s the worse.”

“You read about it?” He would.

“Oh, ask Pam. I read about everything.”

Speaking of Pam, Cecelia suddenly becomes very excited and bounces on her feet, mumbling, “Mama.”

I look in the direction of the entrance and Pam is indeed coming towards us. She hasn’t changed one bit since I saw her last. The hair, the clothes, and the barely-visible make-up… She’s still same o’l Pam.

“Hey,” Jim says, standing up to greet her with a kiss. “How was it? Can you transfer the credits?”

“Yeah, after a lot of begging they’ll send the transcripts over,” she says a bit out of breath, as if she ran here as fast as she could. She pulls Cecelia towards her and kisses her round belly. The little wiggle worm giggles and squirms in her arms.

“That’s awesome, Babe,” he says.

They look at each other and it’s like I'm back at Dunder-Mifflin watching these too together. Pam is so excited about the credit thing and seeing Cecelia again that she doesn’t see me until Jim motions towards me.

“Pam…”

“Oh my God, Karen…” She says before pulling me to a hug. Cecelia is once again sandwiched between one of her parents and me. “Hey…..” She sees my little guy who is now seated next to me, “Is that—”

“Yeah, that’s Ethan,” Jim interjects.

“He’s so big!”

Jim nudges her and says, “Karen was just bragging how she endured 15 hours of labor.”

Pam sits down between Jim and I with Cecelia propped on her lap. “Gosh, I don’t even remember how long it was with her… It felt like an eternity.”

“It was 19 hours, Pam,” Jim reminds her.

“You would know,” she says and turns back to me, “Jim fainted like three times.”

I laugh. “You did not?”

“He did,” Pam confirms.

Jim looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Now I have to throw Dan under the bus too. “When I was screaming in pain in the last hours, Dan was screaming too.” Pam and I laugh, Jim deadpans—I guess he can sympathize with my husband. “I think, though he will never admit it, he was having ‘sympathy’ pains.”

Pam throws her head back totally amused. “Hours after Cece was born, Jim had the audacity to say ‘delivery wasn’t so bad.’”

“But of course you did…you hadn’t just pushed a bowling ball out of you-know-what.”

“Is it lets-gang-up-on-Jim-day? I don’t—” He averts his eyes and extends his arms to Cecelia; she immediately throws herself at him. Such a daddy’s girl. “At least you still like me, uh?” He says nuzzling into her neck.

Pam smiles, looking at her husband entertaining their daughter. She then turns back to me and says, “He was great though,” she tells me.

I pull Ethan to my lap and ruffle his hair. “Yeah, Dan too.”

“He looks a lot like you.”

Yup, Ethan does. “I get that a lot,” I say, kissing him. “She’s a good mix of you guys and she’s adorable.” She really is. “And the baby espadrilles…. Impressive.”

Pam laughs. “A gift from my mom. Cece is the first grandkid on my side, so my mom spoils her rotten.”

“Thinking of adding to the clan?” I ask ‘cause it’s always on the back of my mind.

“Umm… In the future. We’re still figuring things out with this one.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Jim ventures out to the park with their little dumpling and Pam and I chat a bit more. We talk about being a new mom and work and all other boring things moms talk about. There’s still the notion of ‘I’ve slept with your husband,’ but it’s not so bad. She tells me about school and art and the reason she wants to get back into it. I tell her about Staples and how Ethan’s arrival made me want to be a stay home mom and she totally agrees with me. I don’t really have a lot of friends who can commiserate with being a working mom. This is nice.

Jim comes back later, after finally convincing his hesitant one-year old to go on the swings, and in no-certain spoken terms tells Pam is time to leave.

“I think we’re gonna get going.”

I look at my watch; Dan should’ve been here by now. “Okay…” I say standing up with a heavy Ethan in my arms. “It was really good seeing you guys.”

“It was really good to catch up,” Jim says. Pam looks at Jim and he looks at her and they converse telepathically and Jim turns to me again. “We are going to grab a bite to eat, wanna come with?”

“Oh no,” I decline. “Thank you. Dan should be out of his meeting soon. We are meeting up later.”

“Oh, okay then.”

“See you around,” Pam says, then turn to my tired bambino. “Bye Ethan.”

“Say ‘bye-bye,’” I say waving his little hand and he parrots, “Buh-bye.”

I watch Jim shift their baby to one arm and snake the other around Pam. He lowers his lips to her hair and plants a kiss there. She laughs and leans into him.

Jim and Pam are the poster couple for soul-mate love. I can’t believe that I was ever in the way of that. I’m sure if people ever get to watch the documentary of my time in Scranton they would hate me. I’m sure legions of females would probably show up at my door with pitchforks amongst other things. Looking back it was pretty obvious.

Yeah, I was definitely blind.

Loose end—no more.

*

*

I see him enter the store in three quick strides, holding a bundle covered with a yellow blanket. It’s a summer hot day, but it’s pouring outside. He shakes the water off and peels the blanket far enough that I get a glimpse of hair—wavy and blond. He lowers his lips to the top of the curly head and plants a kiss there. The small bundle comes to life and small feet slip past the edge of the blanket.

Seconds later she marches in holding her purse over her head. She looks different, but the same. I notice the hair first; it’s definitely different, smooth curls hanging down to her shoulders—no more frizz, no more barrettes. But she’s still the jeans and t-shirt kind-of-gal, and I can’t believe she still owns those Keds. She shakes the water off her purse and moves to the small bundle he’s holding, peeling off the blanket entirely, revealing a little girl nestled in his arms.

They exchange a few words, but I can’t quite hear what’s being said. He moves to get a cart and she walks behind, draping the blanket over her shoulder. She then gestures for the baby and he lowers the tot to her arms. She kisses the little form and walks towards the store while he follows, pushing a cart.

This little scene unfolds before me as I sit, sipping coffee at the food court at Target. I am here with my current girlfriend, Lisa. We’re moving in together. She’s looking for shelves and curtains or carpet or something for the apartment. And well, I’m here waiting.

I knew Pam was married and had a baby, but I had yet to see them with my own eyes. She’s happy, I can tell. I’m happy too, for her, because she got what she wanted. I still love her. Well, not like that, but… she was my first love.

I can still see them and it’s hard to just ignore. But what gets me is how she keeps the little one clutched tightly to her—it’s very…motherly. This is a new side of Pam to me. She was never comfortable with kids, always very hesitant and anxious. I’d try to tell her she’d be great, but I think that was just my own desire for kids. But I was right, she’s a natural.

I feel like a creep watching them. I want to get up and walk around, but I don’t want to take the chance of running into them later. I just want to avoid the awkwardness, which I know is certain. C’mon, the last time I saw the guy at Poor Richard’s I tried messing with him. I'm not proud with what I said, but in my defense, he had just flaunted in my face how happy my ex was without me. So, he deserved that one.

Now I can’t help but reminisce about my time with Pam. I still don’t know what happened, or why the downfall of our relationship happened. Well, I know—he happened. But the thing is, she seemed happy with me. We were together for like ten years and I thought you couldn’t just break a bond that had been growing for that long. But it shattered and she fell out of love, while I was blindly in love with her.

I actually thought I had completely moved on. Pam was in my past and Lisa was my future. But seeing her again, with him, with his baby? Well, that brought back feelings I didn’t think I carried with me anymore—that baggage thing that women are always talking about. She is my baggage.

I feel like shit for sulking here thinking about my ex. I’m happy with Lisa. I really like her. She’s very easy going and usually takes what I say and goes with it. She’s the best thing that has happened to me since…her. I was the one that actually suggested we move on together. It’s just that… I don’t know. It’s hard seeing her like that, all…happy.

Speaking of Pam, I spot her coming towards me with the baby, fully alert in her arms. I freeze completely, all the muscles in my body become paralyzed and I can’t breathe. And this is how I think I’ll die.

I quickly look down at the table and pray that she doesn’t see me. Please, please, just don’t look, just don’t…

“Roy?”

Shit.

I look up with a plastered smile on my face. “Pammy?” I feign surprise.

“Oh my god…..” She walks towards me and I get up to hug her. It’s awkward and stiff, especially since she’s holding little baby Halpert there.

“What are you doing here?” She asks.

“Shopping with my girlfriend,” I say—no regrets. “Well, waiting for her to finish shopping.”

She chuckles. “That’s more like it.”

We are both standing there and everything between us seems scripted. I sit back down and pull her a seat next to me and she takes it.

“So—” We say at the same time and laugh. But I continue. “You have…” I gesture to the little girl in her arms. She sees where my question is going and answers before I finish.

“This is Cecelia,” she says prying the little girl’s fingers from her mouth. From up close I can see Pam’s soft contours, but for some reason, his stand out more—specially the eyes.

She pulls out a sippy cup from the diaper bag and the little girl’s eye widen as if she’s seeing the Holy Grail. I laugh—the babe’s hungry. She reaches for it and begins to immediately chug it down. She’s cute.

Pam sees that I’m staring and asks, “What?”

“Oh, nothing...” I dig my fingers to the back of my neck. “It’s just… You’re a mom”

She chuckles. “Yeah, some day’s I can’t believe it myself.” She runs her fingers through little Cecelia’s hair and the baby girl sighs contentedly.

“See, you’re good with kids.”

She smiles kindly, looking at her little girl gulp whatever is in that cup. “Yeah…. I guess. But it’s because she’s mine. She has to like me if she plans on eating.”

We laugh at her lame attempt at comic relief.

“So what are you doing here?” I ask.

“We’re looking for cabinets and shelves… anything that will help me organize my studio.”

“You have a studio?”

“Yeah, kind of.” She shrugs. “Jim made our garage into a studio.”

Jim Halpert, gold star.

“Nice…. You’re still drawing and stuff?”

“Yeah… I’ll be going back to school and I need an organized place for me to paint.”

“Going back?” I thought she was done with that. Wasn’t she in New York, for art?

“Yeah... Pratt didn’t work out. I didn’t like graphic design.”

“Oh, I see.” The little girl kicks her little legs in the air and it thumps against my thighs. I seize one of her little feet and tickle it. She gives me an easy grin around the sippy cup.

Pam smiles at me and my heartstrings tighten in my chest. “Ahem,” I clear my throat—it’s suddenly very dry. “What have you been up too, aside from the school thing?”

“I’m still working at Dunder-Mifflin, now owned by a company named Sabre. We sell paper and printers.” She rolls her eyes and releases a heavy sigh. “It’s good pay, though. Sabre has great commission rates.”

In the mean time, Cecelia finishes her drink and holds it up to Pam and mumbles something close to ‘all done.’ Pam asks, “All done?” and takes the pink cup, returns it to the diaper bag, and says, while propping Cecelia on her lap, “So how about you? What have you been up too?”

“I’ve been working at the vitamin store on Pearl Street., but Kenny and I are opening a small car-parts shop.”

“You’re finally doing it, uh?”

“Yeah…”

“Is it still ‘2 Anderson’s 4 cars?’”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” I can’t believe she still remembers that. “You didn’t forget, uh?” She looks at me and shrugs. “I guess I was the only one who forgot ‘things’ in our relationship.” Though I heard those words exit my mouth, I don’t actually recall articulating them.

But Pam is a good sport. She furrows her brow and chuckles to herself. “Don’t blame it all on yourself. But yes, you were forgetful.” Cecelia gets fussy and Pam bends over and digs a pacifier from the diaper bag and gives it to her, who immediately brings it to her mouth. “Remember when you forgot to put the utility check in the mail and we didn’t have electricity for three days?”

Women don’t forget, uh? “Yes, it was like camping.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “C’mon, it was fun. You were totally enjoying yourself after we made s’mores.”

She nods and blushes. We christened every room and furniture in the apartment that weekend.

“How about the time when the truck broke by the lake and we went swimming until Triple A came?” I recall. This is actually a very fond memory that I have of us.

“Yeah,” she chirps. “Thank god for that lake, otherwise we would have melted.” She gives me a kind smile and plants a kiss atop the babe’s curly head.

“We had fun, didn’t we?”

“We did,” she says simply, like an afterthought. I’m sure she’s got better memories now that make ‘ours’ seem juvenile and possibly silly.

“What happened to us?” I utter, knowing I’ve lost the filter between my mouth and brain.

And of course this surprises her. She shakes her head and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She recollects herself and then says, “I think we just grew apart, you know?” Her grasp tightens around her little one and continues, “We both changed during the course of our relationship, which sometimes can be a good thing, but other times…”

She lets the last sentence linger, because for us, it was a bad thing. “Yeah,” I agree. “But things worked out for the good, uh?” I know it did for her, of course, but also for me. I learned a lot from Pam and learned a lot about myself after we broke up (the second time). It made me a better person, a better boyfriend, and hopefully, in the future, a better husband.

“Yeah, they did.” Pam kisses the little girl’s rosy cheek, producing a cute smacking sound. Little Cecelia is unmoved by it, sucking at her pacifier while watching the crowds of people walk past us.

“So,” I say, changing the subject before I blurt anything else out. “Planning on having more?” I gesture towards Cecelia.

“Not now,” she says a bit too quickly, but clarifies herself. “In the future, yes. We are still learning with this one.”

“You know Pammy, I can’t picture you pregnant.” I really can’t. Pam’s pretty small.

She laughs. “Just picture me the size of China,” she says. “I didn’t quite show until the sixth month or so, but after that… man I expanded!” She gazes at the little tot and adds, “She took her time getting here. Nineteen long hours.”

I grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Yes and a bit more. Jim will tell you. The initial contractions weren’t so bad, but as they got closer together it sucked.” She shakes her head, as if to banish the memories. “But the epidural worked wonders! Jim thought I might run away with the anesthesiologist.”

“That good, uh?”

“You have no idea.” She laughs. “But after Cece came screaming into the world.” She tickles the little girl’s sides and playfully says, “Didn’t you silly babe?” Cecelia giggles around the pink pacifier in her mouth.

We continue talking and I lose track of time. I take a sip of my coffee, but now it’s cold. I buy myself another cup and go on a limb and buy Pam one sprinkled with cinnamon. Turns out, I remembered—it’s still her favorite. Some things don’t change.

Soon after, he comes to finds them, pushing a cart with several large boxes and some plastic bags inside. Cecelia’s pacifier falls to the ground as she says, “da-da,” opening and closing her hands while bouncing expectedly on Pam’s lap.

Our eyes meet as he whisks the little dumpling up and swings her in the air. She giggles blissfully and drool oozes down his cheek.

“Hey man,” he says, wiping the slobber from his face.

“Hey…” I say, extending my hand for a handshake. He shifts the baby on his arms and offers me a drool-free hand.

“How’s it going?” He asks.

“So far, so good.”

“Good.”

It’s like we’re reading out of a book of formalities. But I’m pretty sure his guard is up, which inflates my ego a bit.

“Did you get it all?” Pam asks, bending down to pick up Cecelia’s pacifier.

“Yup. All of it.”

She smiles up at him and an awkward silence reigns for a brief moment before Pam says, “I think we’re gonna get going.”

“Yeah… I have to go find Lisa, you know, before she buys the entire store,” I say. Lame.

Pam chuckles. “Yeah… It was good seeing you.”

“Yeah, you too.” I say and go for the hug. She returns the gesture, but it’s still not….”Have a good day now,” I say.

“You too,” she says and adds, waving Cecelia’s hand, “Say ‘buh-bye’ Cece.” Word-like sounds spill from the babe’s mouth, "Buh-buh.”

They walk away and I watch as Jim pulls a lollipop from his pocket and shows it to Cecelia. She immediately recognizes the colorful item and reaches for it. I hear Pam grunt and say, “You’re giving her a bath this time.”

“Sure.” He smiles and removes the wrapper and Cecelia is quick to dig into it. She clutches the little stick with both hands. “And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll give you one too,” he adds.

She laughs, swats his arm, but says, “I feel pretty lucky.”

That’s all I hear before my bionic ears cease to work. I take a sip from my coffee and get up to find Lisa, the one I’m moving in with. I can’t explain how I feel; I just know that I want my future to be like that—wife and kids. I start walking towards the home goods area, but stop at the jewelry counter. Maybe my future doesn’t have to be that far.

*

*


Today I finally understood why a certain James Halpert dumped me.

This has been one of the greatest enigmas in my life—not why I didn’t get elected Prom Queen, not why Mr. Henderson didn’t fail me in Anthropology, no—the mystery behind Jim’s sudden, ‘I don’t know… Let’s break up,’ ranks the highest in my things-I-can’t-explain list.

I’ve had my heart broken once or twice before, but that time was different. Looking at past failed relationships, I can always pinpoint exactly where it went wrong—the guy was a jackass, but not Jim. He was the one I could bring home and introduce to my parents. He was the good guy—the right guy, or so I thought. So, when he dropped the rejection bomb on me, without any explanation, not even a ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ line, I was baffled.

But not anymore.

I was at the SteamTown Mall when I saw Larisa, Jim’s younger sister, standing, with her back to me by the food court. I could never forget her; she was a lovely girl, always complimented my hair and really liked my blue eye shadow. I gave her a purse for her birthday and she thanked me for days—it was the sweetest thing.

She looked all grown up, though. Well, almost six years have gone by since I last saw her. I wondered if she ever got to date that boy in her English class.

I walked with decided steps towards her. In the back of my naïve mind I wondered what her brother was up too, perhaps single and ready to mingle? I am all for second chances—we all make mistakes.

When I got closer I noticed she was holding a little girl, about a year old with golden curls.

“Larisa?” I said coming up behind her.

She turned around and was completely surprised to see me. “Oh my God, Katy!”

“Hi.” I gave her a quick hug and gestured to the baby, “Who do we have here?”

The little girl looked grief-stricken. Her big green eyes were glazed with tears and her pouty lips curved down in a frown. Her cheeks were flushed and her tiny fingers clutched a set of keys for dear life.

“This is Cecelia, my niece,” she said and after a beat added, “She’s Jim’s daughter.”

“Oh,” I gasped. Surprised didn’t describe my state of mind. May be it was because whenever the subject of marriage or kids came up, Jim would always sway the conversation elsewhere. This made me think that perhaps I was not the marrying kind. I'm nearing thirty and honestly, how does a woman get to my age without being married? Humph.

“W-why’s she so sad?” I added, masking my shock. Yeah, shocked seemed like a more suitable description.

“She wants her Momma, don’t you Cece?” She said, gazing down at the sad little tot. “She went to the car to get her diaper bag, we forgot it,” she explained.

“Oh.” I said. No air in the sparseness of the mall available for me to breathe.

But a sudden urge to meet this woman overcame me. I wanted to know who she was. I wanted to know how she did it—how she managed to convince Jim to ‘put a ring on it.’ But I didn’t want my curiosity to seem obvious. “So, what are you guys doing here?” I said and reached for the little girl’s hand, but she further recoiled to Larisa.

“It’s Pam’s sister’s birthday this weekend. We’re looking for a gift.”

Wait… “Pam?”

“Oh… Jim’s wife, Pam.” She said it very nonchalantly.

“Yeah, Pam…” I stumbled. Jim not only has a daughter, but is also married. And her name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put a face on it. “That’s…nice,” I managed to say.

“We are thinking about a Pandora bracelet.” Larisa added as an afterthought and quickly changed the subject. “So, how have you been? What have you been up too?”

“Oh, um…I’ve been good….working and umm… How’ve you been? College?”

“Yeah, I just finished my junior year,” she said adjusting the little girl on her arms. “I’m home for the summer.”

“That’s awesome…” I said, though my mind was furiously searching through its database of names and faces. I needed to know who Pam was, but I didn’t want to seem like a creep. So, I kept listening to Larisa rattle on about college, hoping she would drop hints here and there. “Yeah… Um-hum….”

In the mean time, little Cecelia began fussing and whimpering, calling out, “Mama.” Larisa became distracted with the tot, trying to soothe her. But she continued to whimper rubbing her eyes with tiny clenched fists.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Oh, no problem.”

When I stopped to look at baby, I saw Jim. Small little things called my attention—her lips, definitely her eyes—big and green, and the ears. Cecelia had cute little Dumbo ears.

Just then Larisa piped up and said, “Oh, Look Cece, there’s daddy.”

I froze. Jim Halpert was headed our way. I looked in the direction Larisa was pointing and boy, he looked different—better. That boyish manner still palpable, but this mature, established air exuded from him. His hair was brushed away from his face, but his attire was still as laid-back as the day I met him—jeans and t-shirt. God. That moment I forgot any rancor and started having paranoid fantasies.

“Hey,” he said, obviously surprise. He recognized me right away.

I threw my hair back and plastered the best pageant smile I had. “Oh my Gawd!” We hugged—his body gangly and stiff around mine. “Jim Halpert,” I said, eyeing him up and down. God, it got really hot.

The whimpering girly was literally throwing herself at him from Larisa’s arms, extending her tiny arms as far as they went in his direction. He immediately lifted her to him, kissing her tear-stricken cheeks in the process. “What’s the matter, uh?” He asked, running a hand down her back. The little girl just burrowed her face in his shirt.

“Pam went to get the diaper bag…. We forgot in the car,” Larisa explained. “Cece wasn’t happy about that.”

He smiled at Larisa, and then turned his attention back to me, cradling the small child. “So how’ve been?” he asked.

“Oh, umm, I’ve been good—working…” I didn’t really want to talk about me. There’s nothing to brag about single ol’ me. “I see you got a baby now.” I gestured to the little wilted form in his arms.

“Yeah,” he said, turning and planting a small peck on the little one’s head. Guhh…. Why did the Universe felt the need to torture me?

“How old is she?” I asked, feigning calmness and control.

“She’s 16 months,” he said.

“She’s the cutest thing ever.” She really was a cute baby. We would have made cute babies.

“Thanks,” he smirked.

“So,” I piped up. “Still working at the paper place?” Just trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, except now we sell printers too.”

“Fascinating,” I teased.

“Hey, I’ll have you know, it’s a very respectable job,” he said, feigning offence.

He’s still the same ol’ Jim. We had good times together. “So… wife and kids, uh?”

“Yeah…It’s the life.” He chuckled and I also erupted in fake laughter—though partially sincere. He’s always had this I-want-to-be-you-friend-and-not-get-in-your-pants quality when he talked to you—very attractive.

“So um… how’s the wife?” I really wanted to know about this woman, Pam. What was her secret? I need to know. Time’s ticking, tic-toc, tic-toc.

“She’s good, in fact,” he said pointing straight ahead, “Here she comes…”

I turned around and finally saw her—Pam. Theee Pam. Jim’s friend Pam, the one who was engaged to the football player, who set their wedding date during that horrible boat thing. That Pam. “Oh my God.” I don’t remember if I actually said that out loud.

It was then that it dawned on me. Jim liked her—he had liked Pam, but she was with the other guy—Rob, Todd, Troy? Son of a b—

“Hi.” She was almost startled by my presence. I felt three inches taller and ten pounds lighter. “How’re you?”

“Good,” I said a little chipper. I'm very good. Superb.

The little cutie on Jim’s arms whipped her curly head around to the sound of Pam’s voice. “Mama!” She called. Jim lowered her to Pam and a grin broke across her baby doll face. Mama was back. And guess who’s also back?

“I’m really good,” I said again, nodding, with a huge, idiotic smile plastered on my face. Relief, that’s what I felt—relief from the thought that I wasn’t good enough to have a guy like Jim, relief that I didn’t have to wonder anymore. I couldn’t have had him, he was already taken—he was never mine to begin with.

“I can’t believe you guys are together.” I said. Elephant in the room. Couldn’t help it—slipped out.

They looked at each other and smiled. “Yeah,” she replied.

“What happened to your fian---ex fiancé?” Couldn’t remember his name.

“Didn’t work out,” she said simply. Sore subject? I imagined a messy break-up.

“Your little girl is the cutest thing.”

“Thanks,” she ran her fingers through the little girl’s hair, very protectively, very motherly. I like her.

I felt like I could float on air. “I think I’m gonna start going. My friend is waiting for me.” And by friend I meant, potential boyfriend. He’s a good guy. We’ve been talking. I really like him. I think he likes me too.

“Okay,” she said. “It was good seeing you.”

“Yeah, it was.” It really was.

I was never me, it was always him. The best loose end I’ve tied up in a while.

*

*

I’m at Crate and Barrel trying to find a nice casserole dish when I see her. Even though she has her back to me, I know it’s her. It seems like only yesterday when I saw this timid girl, wearing a turtleneck with unruly, curly hair walk through my front door. She was unlike any girl Roy had brought home. She won his heart and it wasn’t long before she won our hearts as well.


She became like my own daughter and I can’t tell you how heartbroken I was when she ended things with Roy. I know my son is no prince charming, but he loved her. He just didn’t know how much.


“Pam?”


She turns. When she sees me it’s almost like her heart stopped beating for a full three seconds. “Oh my God, Joanne?” she says surprised.


She has her baby girl hoisted at her hip. Roy mentioned he saw her at Target a few weeks back. My heart tightens with the thought of what might have been.


We hug and it’s like we’ve slipped back in time. “How have you been?” I ask, but my eyes inevitably fall on the baby girl. Her pouty lips curve in a frown and her big blue eyes are glassy with unshed tears.


“I’ve been good. Busy, but good,” she says.


“Pam, she’s precious.” I say and reach for the baby’s hand, but the little girl nuzzles her doll face on mom’s shirt.


“This is Cecelia.” Pam turns so I can see her round, little face. “She was asleep on the way here and just woke up.” She runs a soothing hand down the baby’s back and says, “She’ll come around.”


“It’s really good to see you.” I say.


“Yeah, you too,” she says and adjusts the little girl on her hip. “Would you like to grab some coffee?”


“Sure,” I say.


I forget about what I have to do and together we walk across the street to the nearest coffee shop. While we wait in line she lowers the tot to the floor and the little one stands wobbly on her feet, holding on to mom’s pants while gazing around with big, blue eyes.


“She’s getting heavy,” she says with a scripted rush of air.


“She looks a lot like you.” I say and the little does. Except for her eyes and the blond hair, she’s all Pam. “How old is she?”


“Thirteen months.”


“She’s a big girl.”


“Getting bigger every day,” she says and coos at the tot, “Right Cece?”


We get our coffee and find an empty table in the back. Pam walks hand in hand with the little girl and the mother in her is so obvious. I don’t know why she ever doubted herself. She pulls Cecelia to her lap and hands her a rubbery toy.


“It’s been so long,” she says, “And I know it’s my fault.”


“Nonsense dear, we’ve all been busy,” I say. “What have you been up too? The last I heard you were going to an art school in the city.”


“Yeah, I did go. It’s nice and all, but just wasn’t for me.”


“You are so talented. I loved your paintings. You know, I still have that painting of the sunflowers in my kitchen.”


She blushes all kinds of red. “Really?”


“Of course,” I say. “It’s my most coveted painting.” It’s just breath taking. I couldn’t believe she’d painted it. “So, what else have you been up to?”


“I’m still at Dunder-Mifflin, and also taking art classes at night.”


“I hope they are paying you more than they did,” I say and we share a chuckle. “Tell me, is that boss of yours still working there?”


“Actually no, he left a few weeks ago. He is on to new things.”


“I remember being so entertained by the stories you guys told me.”


“I’ve always imagined what it would be like without him there, but now that he is gone, I have to say…. I kind of miss him.”


“No, really?” Every time she and Roy came to dinner it was always, ‘You won’t believe what my boss did,’ or ‘You won’t believe what my boss made me do.’


“It’s true!”


We laugh and little Cecelia does too.


“What’s so funny, huh?” I ask the little girl and she gives me a big, cheeky smile. I tickle her tummy and she wiggles in Pam’s arms. Pam kisses the top of the little girl’s head and the baby babbles happily.


“Jenny is looking into adoption again.” Jenny is my eldest daughter. She and her husband have been trying to have a baby for quiet sometime now.


“Oh,” she says surprised. “I thought she was going for IVF.”


“She did. Didn’t work and it’s so expensive.”


“I can imagine.” She gazes down at Cece and then sheepishly up at me. “I never thought I would have a baby before Jenny,” she says. “She was always the one playing with the kids.”


There’s a beat of silence and in the back ground, plates clatter, voices rises and fall, and occasional laughter breaks out and around the small coffee house. My eyes catches Cecelia’s little face scrunched in concentration while gnawing on her toy. My arms ache to hold her.


“Can I hold her?” I ask. My old heart leaps at the prospect.


“Yeah…” She lifts the little girl from her lap and says, “Wanna go see Joanne?”


Cece babbles and Pam takes that as a ‘yes’. She lowers her to my arms and the little girl settles without a fuss. She’s a very lovely baby. Long eyelashes curled against rose-over-ivory cheeks and her round face topped by a cap of fine, sandy blond hair. “Did you just decide it was time for a little one?”


She chuckles. “Cece was um…. She was a nice surprise.”


“You mean—”


“Yeah… Cece just…happened.” She sips her coffee. “I had a sprained ankle and at the hospital I found out I was pregnant.”


“Now there’s an interesting story.”


“We were so excited and so scared and….”


She continues to tell me about her pregnancy and I know she’s been cautious about bringing him up. But every now and then she’ll let little things slip, like ‘he was so anxious,’ or ‘he couldn’t believe how big my belly got.’ It’s almost like she can’t help but talk about him. I wish to know more—what is different about him, why did she choose him over Roy, but I don’t want to prod.


Her phone rings and she apologetically fishes it out of her purse. “Hey….” She picks up. By the tone on her voice I know it’s him. “No, I’m at the coffee shop across the street.” She smiles uneasily at me. “Yeah…..Oh, she’s better….I know…….Yeah, that sounds good…Okay…Love you, bye.”


A bit of something sad curls in my stomach. Pam looks at me and it seems my face reveals my melancholy because she says, “He’s a good man.”


“I know.” I do. I sip my coffee, trying to wash down the words burning on my tongue, but it’s futile and I can see she’s already expecting what I’m about to ask. “What happened, Pam? I mean… I know what happened. I just want to hear your side.”


“I always thought Roy was the one, you know?” She begins. “And at one point I wanted him to be the one.”


I nod and sip my coffee.


“But we grew apart. Roy… Roy was still the same boy I met in high school.” She sips her coffee and says, “And for a while that was okay. I was happy. Or at least I thought I was happy.”


“I rooted for you guys, you know that?”


“I know. I did too. I wanted us to work…. But then… everything changed.”


“You fell for the other guy.”


Pam nods guiltily. She rasps her tongue over her lips that suddenly seem to have gone as dry as baby powder. “I loved Roy. He will always be my first love….”


I nod and smile at her. She smiles back and just like that she’s my Pam again, from all those years back.


“I feel awful for what I did.”


“You cheated on Roy?” I ask, but I already know the answer.


“No… yes…well… Jim and I kissed. That’s all. Nothing else happened. And I told Roy about it. I wanted us to make it—start fresh.”


“That’s when the bar fight happened.” Kenny still mopes about that damn jet ski money.


“Yeah…That was when I realized our relationship had run its course. Roy did too. We talked about it over coffee.” We both smile at the irony.


That’s all I wanted to hear from her. I just wanted to know she cared. I know my son and I’ll stand by him, but I also know Pam. Roy needed to lose her in order to understand what he had. I think along the years he forgot what an amazing girl Pam is. He learned his lesson.


With this fog suddenly lifted our conversation routes to more lighthearted subjects. We go back in time, retelling and remembering the distant past.


“You guys crashed my car!” I say.


“It was Jenny’s idea. Kenny, Roy and I were totally against it.”


“Whose idea was it to repair with duct tape and paint?” She looked so innocent then, but I knew it was her handiwork.


“It was mine. I’m sorry.”


“Roy tried so hard to cover up for you. I remember the repair being nearly perfect. You guys fooled me for all those months.”


“We were very surprise that you didn’t find out that same day.” She chuckles and her head falls back, “And remember the time when…”


I’m still holding Cece and I feel so attached to this little girl. It’s like she’s my grandchild. I’m look down at her and I can’t help but play ‘This little piggy’ with her little toes. When I reach her littlest toe and say, “And this little piggy went...” she curls her tiny toes back inside her strappy sandals and beams at me when I say, “wee, wee, wee, all the way home,” like she’s anticipating me tickling her.


I guess I got distracted with Cecelia and when I look back at Pam, she’s staring at us with a knowing smile, my heart tightens—I have yet to be blessed with grandchildren.


“Helene must be over the moon with her,” I say.


“Yeah. She’s always offering to babysit. It’s a tug of war between the grandmas.”


“Of course! Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?” I tickle Cece and she giggles, bunching all her chubby fingers in her mouth.


When this tall man enters the coffee shop, I immediately know it’s him. He’s handsome, if you like the lanky type. I see where little Cecelia gets her eyes from. And boy does she light up at the sight on him. As soon as he comes within her view, she immediately arches her back and slides down my lap. She toddles for him and he sweeps her off the floor with lots of pump and circumstance.


He walks towards us with arms full of Cecelia. I can see the little girl absolutely loves him. I can also tell Pam loves him too. The smile adorning her face, the glint in her eyes…. I remember that look. I’ve seen it a long time ago.


He approaches us and Pam says, “Jim, this is Joanne Anderson.”


It takes him less than a minute to put two and two together. “Hi, Mrs. Anderson. Nice to meet you.”


“Oh, same here. Please call me Joanne.” I extend my hand and he shakes it. Firm grip. “Want to join us for coffee?”


“I would love to,” he says with a lazy smile that mirrors little Cece’s. “But I’m going to have to take a rain check.”


“Oh, that’s alright,” I say, “You guys probably have somewhere to go. I still have to find my casserole dish,” I say and begin to stand.


“It was really nice to meet you,” he says and we shake hands once more.


The boy has charm. I give him that.


“Pam,” he says, “I’ll meet you in the car?”


“Yeah,” she smiles, “I’ll be right there.”


“Say ‘buh-bye,’” he coaxes Cece, but she only smiles around her little fingers bunched in her mouth.


We watch them walk out and without any words I just hold my arms out for her. She walks into my embrace and I hold on a little tighter, a little longer.


“Don’t be a stranger,” I tell her.


She smiles and both of us get a little teary.


“The past is in the past,” I remind her.


I watch her curl her hair behind her ear and wipe her eyes with her shirt sleeve. She then waves good-bye and out she goes. I watch her from the large glass window and as she reaches the car, he is quick to open the door for her, but notices she’s been crying. He pulls her for a hug and kisses her forehead. He says something and she nods, offering him a smile. When they drive away, my heartstrings pull a bit tighter in my chest.


I’m grateful for the opportunity to see her again. I always thought things weren't right when she left. I’m happy to have tied this loose end.

*

*


I’m driving down to Philly to an exhibition put on by the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It is one of the best exhibitions of fine arts in the East coast. It includes 200 of the finest and most dynamic artists, selected from hundreds of applicants—that’s what the brochure says. They make it sound bigger than it actually is. But hey, I was chosen and it’s a great opportunity to showcase my work.


After Pratt, I got little odd jobs here and there, but never landed anything long term. I learned quickly that in graphic design you need connections. You need someone on the inside to pave the way for you. Talent counts, of course. But having your dad as the head of marketing or a CEO of a company, makes securing that job easier.


So, I’ve been working on my resume, talking to a few people, and I hope my involvement in this art show might just give me enough kick to finally land a full time job. It’s been hard. I’m not going to lie. I’m the cliché starving artist. The small designing jobs help, but what’s putting food on the table is…waiting tables. I’ve come this close to packing my things and returning home. But if I want to be the artist I aspire to be, I need to stay in New York.


When I finally arrive at the museum, I’m faced with the ‘artsy’ chaos I’ve become accustomed to. People running up and down the aisles, paintings being dragged here and there… It seems like I’m the last one to arrive. A uniformed personal taps me on the shoulder and says, “Excuse me sir, the event will start at noon.”


“Oh, um…I’m presenting.”


He looks me up and down. “You have to register at customer services.”


“Oh okay, thank you.”


I walk aimlessly trying to find customer service. When I do find it, I make it just in the nick of time. I sign in and yes, I was the last one to arrive. The lady made sure I was aware of it. I walk to my assigned nook and begin setting up my display. I’m next to an abstract and a still-life artist. I haven’t categorized myself yet. I just paint. I like drawing cartoons, actually.


Before I know it, it’s thirty past and this place is packed. It seems more like a fair than an art show. All they’re missing is a carousel and a cotton candy machine. People will stop every now and then and ask about my work, what I do, and that sort of stuff. I reply with scripted pleasantries that we’ve all been trained to say at any moment’s notice to any stranger.


During a slow moment, I consider sneaking out to grab a bite to eat. A Philly steak and cheese sounds superb right now. I’m almost giving into my craving when I see this tall guy with a little girl hoisted at his hip walking towards me.


I clear my throat and straighten up a bit. He doesn’t look like a guy who would ask any questions though. I just hope my stomach doesn’t rumble loud enough for him to hear.


“Hi,” he says.


“Hi,” I say back.


He strolls about my little display, following the little girl’s pointed finger. She aims at the most colorful pieces I have, babbling things I don’t understand. She’s very adamant and strong-minded about what she’s ‘saying.’ It’s almost like she’s certain he understands every sound that comes out of her mouth. I chuckle to myself and the guy looks my way.


“Sorry,” I offer. “It’s just… she’s very talkative.”


“Yup,” he says and looks down at the mop of sandy blond hair rebelling atop her head. “She’s very insightful.”


I laugh and add, “I sounded just like that when I went to my first art show. But I was around eighteen.”


He chuckles, “This isn’t her first,” he says. I frown questioningly and he adds, “Mom’s an artist.”


“Oh! Right, right.” The little one reminds me of my niece. She’s probably twice her size now. Last time I saw her she hadn’t taken her first steps.


“I’m Jim, by the way,” he says and extends a hand.


“Alex.”


We shake hands. He seems like a nice guy—he is toting his daughter around an art show, on a Sunday afternoon. I’m sure there is a game on ESPN he’d rather watch.


“These are really different,” he says. “But not in a bad way. A good different. I like them.”


I chuckle inwardly. “Thanks.”


The baby babbles again and he says, “I think she like your paintings the best so far.”


“I can see that.” I smile. The little girl has yet to stop jabbering. “It’s an honor.”


He smiles and continues to walk around the display. Unconsciously my mind reverts back to the Philly steak and cheese—my mouth waters just thinking about it. I wonder if anyone would notice if I slipped out and came back. Probably not. I should ask the still-life guy next to me if he could watch my booth for just a minute.


“Hey man,” I hear the guy with the little babbling baby say. I notice him holding his cell phone and for a minute I question if the ‘hey man’ was directed at me.


“Me?” I point to myself.


“Yeah… What’s your booth number?”


“Oh um… 43,” I tell him.


“Thanks…” He says and returns to talking to the person on the phone. “I’m on 43…. Yeah…. It’s to the across from the painting with all the chairs….. Yeah, the one with the lake-ghost thing in the middle….”


I couldn’t help overhearing, “It’s the Michelangelo Pistoletto’s Cittadellarte.,” I interject.


“It’s the Michelagelo’s Pisto-one,” he says and mouths ‘thanks’ to me. “Yeah…..Right across from it….Okay……Yup….bye.”


He closes his phone and says, “Thanks.”


“Oh, no problem.”


He marches to the middle of the long walkway and lifts himself on the tip of his toes, like he needs it. He already tower over most of us. But soon enough his hand goes up, waving to someone. When the person he’s signaling to comes into view, my mouth falls to the floor. I probably I look like one of those cartoon characters who’s just seen a ghost.


They hug and I am rooted to the ground because I can’t believe my eyes.


“Pam Beesly?” I choke out.


Her gaze finds me with my mouth agape and all and she says, “Alex?” equally surprised.


The guy looks between us and it seems he’s trying to solve a mathematic problem in his head.


Pam and I hug and it’s a bit awkward at first, but it feels right. To me, at least. And she looks great. She’s dressed in soft dusky colors, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was never glamorous like most New York girls. But she didn’t need the glitz for me to notice her the day she walked into class nearly three years ago.


I’m still stunned. I never thought I’d see her again. I had a big thing for her. She was just so…great—a curious mix of strength and vulnerability. I tried to get her to stay. I think she’d have done great in New York. She had what would take to get a job. She was a complete package. All she needed was to retake that computer class and she’d be on her way.


But she turned me down, left New York, all for some stupid boyfriend back in that little town and she….. Oh. My. God. That’s him! He’s the guy. And the little girl is her…


I shake the thoughts running through my head and manage to look composed. “How have you been?” I ask.


“I’ve been good, you?” She says.


“I’m doing better now.” From the corner of my eye I see Jim tightening up a bit.


“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she says. “And you’re….Presenting!”


“Yeah, I finally got a spot this year.” Those feelings from so long ago are starting to bubble up. “What about you? What have you been up to?”


“Well…” She looks behind her. “I got married.” My hearts breaks a little, even though I’d guessed. “This is my husband, Jim.”


“We’ve introduced ourselves earlier,” he says and smiles at me with tight lips. The wide grin from before disappeared as fast as a snowball tossed into hell.


“Alex and I met at Pratt,” she tells him, all cute and sweet. “And this is my daughter, Cecelia,” she informs me gesturing to the little girl nestled in his arms.


“Oh wow.” You know when too much information is given to you at once and you feel a bit overwhelmed, snowed under, weighted down, and all that jazz? Well, that’s how I feel right now. “She’s cute,” I manage to say. My vocal cords are in a knot.


I’m not usually this pathetic. If this was anyone else, it would have been fine. But this is not anyone. This is Pam.. She got to me in ways I didn’t begin to understand. And seeing her right now has a dream-like quality in my head. I was devastated when she left. I didn’t mind how she ‘rejected’ me before. But her leaving was like getting burned and then putting my hand straight back on the fire. And now she shows up here, married and with a baby? Just show me the way to hell.


“Thank you,” she says.


There’s a beat of silence and it’s mostly because of me. I try to pull myself together, but my tongue has apparently turned into a lump of wood. “So, what are you doing here?”


“Well, I’m taking this art class back in Scranton and the professor advertised this event so…. Here we are.”


“That’s great. I glad to hear you’re still painting. You were so good.”


“I did okay,” she says sheepishly. “Not as good as you.”


“No Pam. I’ve never seen anyone draw people like you do.” This one time on the subway she sketched this woman and she’d captured all these minute details. I’m not much into detail. My paintings are very broad and existential in a way—that’s what I tell myself, at least.


“Thank you,” she says and smiles. “You did great here.” She gestures towards my little exhibit and takes a few steps towards the one on the far left and says, “I remember this one. You did this for that abstract class.”


“Yeah.” Can’t believe she rememberes.


She sighs. “So, you’re this big artist now, huh?”


I chuckle. “I’m far from anything right now…haven’t landed a solid gig yet.”


“But I’m sure you will.”


She said those words simply, sincerely. “I hope you’re right,” I say “It’s been tough out there.”


“But you’re so good.”


“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be.”


“Oh,” she says.


Just then, her little girl begins calling her from his arms. Or at least I think she’s calling her.


“Mamma,” she repeats. Pam turns around and the little girl almost throws herself at her. Pam happily takes her in her arms and hoists her on her hip.


Jim, who’s been quiet all along, says, “I’m going to get us some water.”


“Okay,” she says and smiles.


“Be right back,” he says, making his way through the crowd.


The little girl, now quiet, lays her head on Pam’s shoulder. The baby appears to be an extension of Pam—like a limb, just like the impressionist painter, Mary Cassatt, portrayed in all her mother/daughter paintings.


“I still can’t believe you’re here.”


“Why?”


“Well, I didn’t think I would see you again.”


She places a stray curl behind her ear and says, “Yeah, I guess. But ‘never say never.’”


We laugh. One of our professor back at Pratt used to say that at a few times every lecture. We kept tally this one time and I think he came close to fifteen! The air between us goes quiet, perhaps even awkward, but I decide to break it with the obvious statement of the day, “Jim’s a nice guy.”


“Yeah, he is.”


I shake my head. “I haven’t seen you in like three years, but it seems like a lot longer.” So much has happened to her and it seems like I’m still here, living the same life I did three years ago.


“I know.”


“Do you regret it?” The moment I say it I regret it. I hope she doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Like, not staying?” I try to explain myself. “You would have landed a job right out of Pratt.”


“No” she says, not thinking twice about it. “I do wonder what would’ve happened if I did stay, though.” She looks down at the baby in her arms and back at me. “But then, I also wonder what wouldn’t have happened.”


“I see.” And maybe she has a point. At least one area in her life is fulfilled.


“I’m slowly easing my way back,” she says, lifting her shoulders in a barely-there shrug. “It’s a bit harder this time around, with the baby and all. But Jim’s really supportive.”


“I’m happy for you.” I am. Really.


“Thanks.” She offers me a kind smile.


“But we had fun, huh?” I say.


“We did,” she nods. “Remember the whole fiasco with Sarah?”


“Oh yeah, I hear that they are still not speaking to each other.”


“Oh wow!” She shakes her head. “Hey um… Have you heard from Kellie?”


“She went back to Virginia. Her dad knew someone, that knew this guy, and he got her a job in this marketing company.”


“Good for her!”


“Yeah…”


We continue going down memory lane, but moments later Jim comes back with three water bottles in hand and offers me one. I take it, but I’m not thirsty anymore, or hungry for that matter.


The little one has fallen asleep on Pam’s arms. Her cheeks are flushed and her little body drapes limply over Pam’s shoulder. Jim takes the baby’s Sippy cup from the backpack his carrying and fills it with water. He then lifts the little girl from Pam’s arms and carefully places the Sippy cup up to the little girl’s lips. Instinctively the baby girl lazily begins to gulp the liquid down.


“Well it was good seeing you,” Pam says.


“Yeah, you too.” I say. “It was nice meeting you, Jim.”


“You too.” He says, adjusting the little girl over his shoulder.


We wave bye and I watch them disappear amongst the crowd. This was harder than I thought it would be. Seeing her again was… different, because she was different. She’s in a good place right now. She seems happy and who can compete with a guy who calls Michelangelo’s Cittadellarte the one with all the chairs, but still come to an art show anyways?


I just hope I get lucky down the line and finally land a job. But only time will tell. And for now, I’ll hang in there.

*


*



“Thanks for calling Ameriplan, the nation’s premier discount medical plan organization. This is Cathy speaking,” I say into the phone for the millionth time today. The pep in my voice is long gone. I grumble through this sentence like a drone. “I’m sorry ma’am, Medicare does not allow their providers to charge a patient a different price,” I tell the person on the other line. She barks her protest and asks to speak to my supervisor.


“No problem, I’ll transfer,” I say and just forward her over to another customer service representative.


As soon as I place the phone down it rings again.


“Ameriplan, discount medical plan organization, this is Cathy……..Members can save between 25% and 65% on all restorative and cosmetic work……. It’s a range……..No, specialist fees are discounted only up to 25%....No problem, I’ll transfer you.”


This is how I spend my weekdays from 9 to 5. I have lines on my face, permanent incisions dug between my eyebrows, from sulking here. I thought working at a paper company was tedious. Well, it is, but not as mind-numbing as listening to people grumble in your ear all day long.


I was let go from Sabre after Robert California sandbagged the Sabre store. But I decided to stay in sunny Florida and try my luck out there. It was definitely a step up from Scranton – palm trees, blue skies, warm weather. What could go wrong? Well, everything. Long story short, I couldn’t find a good paying job and in less than three months I wiped my savings clean. I returned to Scranton empty handed and with my tail between my legs.


I think it was Lily Tomlin who said things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.


My life had been tolerable up until the documentary aired. I wish I could blame clever editing for the way I was portrayed, but my actions were very transparent. I was definitely hitting on a married man, but not just any married man, as I had previously thought. I was hitting on Jim Halpert - the eternal nice guy, the one who waited years to be with the girl he loved.


That Jim Halpert.


In my defense, I thought his marriage was doomed. He was miles away from his wife, who seemed eager to get him as far away from Scranton as possible. It was a done deal. But he turned me down and climbed another step in the nice guy scale.


From then on I was branded.


Tramp.


Home-wrecker.


But I think people preferred the names that rhymed. Hussy Cathy and Slutty Cathy were the fan favorites.


I still haven’t heard the end of it. I guess I should be lucky enough that I only talk to customers on the phone. I bet if they knew they were talking to Slutty Cathy, they would do more than bark at me.


I leave work and decide to make a quick stop at the grocery store. I grab a few items and when I get to the registers there’s huge line. I stand on my tippy toes to try to see what’s the hold up. Well, the geniuses only have two registers open. I choose the line that shows more promise and stand there.


It is only when it’s too late that I realize who is standing in front of me - Pam. I think on my feet and look around for a way out, but people have lined up behind me and I can’t make a clean exit without calling attention to myself. I just look down at my feet and pray the floor will swallow me whole. While I’m pondering on how to execute a David Copperfield-esque disappearing act, I lean on my shopping cart and it pushes against hers.


I freeze. I look down, letting my hair cover most of my face, and say a quick, “Sorry.”


Through the curtain of my hair I can see her leisurely turning around and it’s like we’re underwater and all the events that follow become slow and strained.


“Oh, It’s alri—” She begins, but stops. Her brow furrows as she slowly realizes who I’m.


Game’s over.


I surface from underneath my hair and say, “Oh, hey,” as if I’m just now realizing that she was standing in front of me. “How are things?” I ask stupidly.


“We’re good,” she says.


We. Plural. Got it


“You?” She asks, but her tone is deceitful, like when a mom asks, how was school? knowing the kid got detention.


“Good,” I reply. “How are the little ones?” I ask, discreetly looking around to see if any cash registers have opened so I could use that as an excuse and make a quick escape.


“They’re good,” she says, gesturing to her little boy sitting on the cart.


The kid looks at me with these killer green eyes. He is clutching a bag of M&Ms as if his life depends on it.


“It’s Philip, right?” I ask. Mom’s like to talk about their kids. Maybe if I ask a few questions she can yap about little Jim Junior here and ignore the neon sign signaling the obvious. “He is so big and look at those cheeks,” I say.


“Yeah,” she says dryly, doesn’t elaborate.


Nice try, Cathy.


An awkward silence follows and it’s impossible to continue to ignore the elephant here. I resent what I did and I deserve the flak I got. For a while I had a tough time dealing with people on the streets and my own stupid conscience. My mom advised me to reach out to Pam and apologize. She said it would help me bring closure. At the time I thought my mom had lost it. But now her words are echoing in my head. I don’t think I will get another chance like this.


“Hey,” I say lightly, feeling the walls of the supermarket closing around me. “I meant to talk to you after the documentary aired.”


She shakes her head slowly from side to side and says, “That wouldn’t have been a good idea.”


“I just…” I begin, but my tongue feels like a lump of wood in my mouth. “I wanted to apologize. I was waaaay off line.”


“Yes, you were,” she says matter-of-factly.


Her bluntness catches me by surprise. But what did I expect, for her to say, No worries, sistah. That’s water under the bridge. Now let’s have coffee?


“Look, I was stupid.” I say. I avert my gaze to the ground and shame crumbles off my shoulder. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. If someone had done that to me I know I wouldn’t forgive them either.”


She studies me for a moment, and then says, “What made you do it?”


“Um…”


First and foremost, your husband is very good looking. He is also funny and smart. The guy possesses all the qualities I would want my own husband to have. I’m pretty sure Lackawanna County agrees with me.


I want to tell her this, but I don’t.


Instead, I tell her the truth. “He was very nice to me and I guess I took it to mean he was interested. From my experience, if a guy likes you he tends to be friendly.” I sigh and think about how pathetic that sounds. I look up at her and her face softens for a fraction of a second before it returns to its original unyielding state.


“It still doesn’t make it okay to hit on a married guy when he is just being nice, you know?” She says.


“I know and it’s totally okay if you hate me. For a while I hated myself too, and I’m pretty sure the rest of Scranton still does.” I add the last little bit under my breath.


“Can’t say you don’t deserve it,” she says.


“I know,” I tell her. “Look, I just wanted you to know I feel horrible for what I did. I completely misinterpreted Jim’s friendship.”


Her facial expression changes and although she tries to mask it, I notice it. Maybe she’s not accepting my apology, but acknowledging it was made.



She looks at the line that hasn’t moved in the past few minutes and grumbles, “Why can’t they just open another freaking register?”


I take her change of subject as a good thing. “I know,” I tell her with a theatrical sigh.


The awkwardness of the situation seems to dissipate, but just when I think I see the end of this tunnel, I see Jim coming towards us with their little girl in tow. The guy literally squeezes past my cart without batting an eye at me and says to Pam, “The bathroom was all that way on the other side.”


I see them looking at each other and I guess Pam’s facial expression alerts him there is something behind him.


“What?” He asks, turning slowly so that he is facing me.


“Hi,” I say.


“Oh, hey… you.” He says a bit disconcerted. “How’ve you been?”


“Good, good,” I tell him,


The little girl in his arms looks a lot like him, except she got mom’s curly hair. She’s wearing this summery blue dress and it accents her crystal blue eyes. They made some cute kids.


“I thought you stayed in Florida,” he says.


“I did, for a while,” I tell him. “Didn’t work out.”


“Sorry about that,” he offers.


“It’s okay. It was for the best.”


He looks back at his wife, then back at me. “Well, if you are looking for job, Dunder-Mifflin needs an office administrator. Oh, and a sales person too,” he adds and beams at me.


How can I not misunderstand his friendship when that smile is directed at me?


“Really? You guys are leaving the company?”


“Yes,” Jim answers. “We are.”


“New jobs?” I ask hesitantly.


“The sports marketing company I started in Philly was bought out and the headquarters is now in Austin,” he says and his smile can light up this whole supermarket. “We’re moving there in a month”


“That’s awesome,” I say.


“Yeah, we think so too,” he says.


I see that the line is finally moving and Pam has begun loading her groceries onto the conveyer belt.


“Well, good luck with everything,” I tell him.


“Thank you,” he says. “Good luck to you too…? I guess.”


“Thanks.”


Jim places the little girl down and goes to help Pam load their groceries. He snakes a hand around her waist and whispers something in her ear as he loads at least 10 packs of lemon Jell-O on the belt. When all is on the conveyer belt, Jim lifts his little guy from the cart and drapes him over his shoulder. The kid releases the biggest belly laugh.


Not too far away, the little girl is doing giddy twirls like a ballerina, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Look, daddy. Look!”


“I see,” he responds and offers her his free hand. She takes it and he twirls her ballroom style. And like a ballerina princess she courtesies, as graciously as can, accepting dad’s applause before continuing to leap and twirl.


The more I watch them, the more I hate myself for what I did.


I’m so enthralled that I don’t see Pam looking at me.


“Sorry,” I say right away. “I wasn’t… I was just—”


“I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. But just know that you wanted to break that,” she says gesturing towards Jim, who is loading two giggling kids into the grocery cart.


“When you have a family, you’ll understand. “


She looks back at her husband and he waves for her to come.


“But hey,” she says walking away, “Dunder-Mifflin is a good place for a new beginning. My life began the day I started there.”


I nod.


She joins her husband and I watch him pull her in a hug.


“Lady, I don’t have all day,” the girl at the register tells me.


“Oh, sorry,” I say and begin to load my groceries on the conveyer belt.


I think I’ll give Dunder-Mifflin a call. It can’t be worse than what I do now. At least I won’t have to listen to people complain all day long. And who knows, maybe I’ll find my own Jim too.

*


*



I’m watching the bubbly news correspondent run through her lines as she prepares to recite them to the camera. She’s a fairly young girl with short, blond hair. She thinks she is at the top of the world. Her confidence and poise as she prepares to tell the spectators at home about the new giraffe at the zoo is borderline comical. I just sigh and hold the microphone as close to her as possible without intruding the camera’s frame.


“Okay, ready,” she says and releases a theatrical gush of air. “Let’s do this.”


The camera man, who cannot understand why his skills have gone unrecognized and unappreciated for years, mumbles, “Rolling.”


“We are here in Nay Aug Park Zoo,” Blondie begins. “To introduce its latest addition…” she pauses for dramatic effect and then says, “Zoe the giraffe….”


Her voice is composed and as she continues to recite her lines, I zone out. Being the production sound mixer for this local news station is a step up, albeit small, from my previous job. The new title gives me the final say in the editing room. This would be very exciting if I were on a film set or in a major television production. However, the most I get to do is mix the audio signals and do a few dialogue replacements.


I should probably try my luck out west. I have enough experience to land a decent job booming. But ever since my divorce was finalized, I can’t seem to find enough strength to move-on. I think Alyssa and I shocked each other by how we went from being two people who knew each other best in the world to being a pair of mutually incomprehensible strangers. I spent all my energy (and money) settling that battle that I can’t find it in me to just pack up and go.


Alyssa blames me for the demise of our marriage and her stance was further supported when the documentary aired. It suddenly became clear to her (and apparently to everyone else) that I fell out of love with her and in love with someone else. Look, it’s hard to look into someone’s soul, to feel their hurt, and carry their burden as if it were your own for years and not become emotionally involved. Yes, what I felt for her was more than friendship, but it wasn’t love.


“Dude,” the camera guy growls, “The boom’s in frame.”


“Oh,” I say and pull the pole back. “Sorry…it slipped.”


He rolls his eyes and says, “Little miss thing wants to interview people.”


“About the giraffe?” I ask.


“No, about the Koala…” He scoffs. Sweat beads on his brow. “She wants to capture the excitement”


It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “How about you guys take a break while I help her find people to interview,” I tell the crew. “Be back here in ten.”


The small group disbands and I exhale, looking around for Blondie who has disappeared into the crowd. I find her talking to someone over by the entrance to the exhibit. I do a double take before I notice who she’s chatting with.


Holy crap.


It’s Jim Halpert.


I try to veer myself away from his field of view, but it’s too late. Blondie is already sending him in my direction. Our eyes meet and the sudden realization that I’m about to face him makes my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. I know he feels betrayed. Like everyone else, he must think I stepped over my boundaries with Pam. The look on his face as he takes measured steps in my direction is enough to alert me of his state of mind.


“Hey man,” I venture first.


“Hey,” he says back.


I look down and see that he is holding Cecelia’s hand. She’s so big. I was one of the first people who got to hold her when she was born. She looked just like a doll with wispy, blonde hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. Alyssa and I were trying to get pregnant around the same time Cece was born. We tried so hard, following her cycle and other ridiculous instructions, but it never happened.


“So, how are things?” I ask.


“Good,” he says. “You?”


“Good, good,” I say and clear my throat. “You want to do the interview?” I ask, knowing how strangely nostalgic it is to be asking him this question.


“Sure, why not?” He shrugs.


I smile down at Cece and she offers me a timid grin. Though her resemblance to Jim is uncanny, the ghost of her mom’s smile plays about her cherub lips. I can’t tell if she remembers me. “She’s grown a lot since I last saw her,” I say secretly avoiding real conversation.


“Yeah, kids grow like weeds,” he offers.


We both fall silent and I suddenly feel the inevitable question welling up. “How’s Pam?”


“She’s good. She’s home with Philip.”


“Everything okay?”


“Phil just has a cold.”


“I hope he feels better,” I say.


“Yeah, me too.”


You can cut the tension between us with a knife. We used to be really good friends and then overnight we stopped talking to each other. I like to think that we merely drifted apart, except I know it’s a bit more involved than that. But I can guarantee one thing. This mess isn’t because of me alone. Maybe it’s time to tie up this loose end.


“Hey man, I’ve been meaning to talk to you… I wanted to clear things between us,” I say.


His brow furrows and he looks searchingly at me. He then looks down at Cece and says, “Hey pretty lady, do you want to see the Giraffe?”


Cece nods excitedly.


“Okay, go on.”


Cece darts towards the exhibit and we follow. “What exactly do you want to clear up ?” He asks pointedly.


“Well, I think the documentary made it seem like I was interested in Pam.”


“Were you?”


“No, not like that,” I tell him, but from years of watching him I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Look, I do care for her, but not like that .”


Cece looks back at us and says, “Daddy, Look! The giraffe!”


“I know…” Jim says in mock excitement and then turns to me. “I think you tried to take advantage of the fact that Pam and I were going through a bit of a rough patch back there.”


“That’s not what happened.” I press my hand to my forehead as though I can silence the voices in my head telling me differently. “I was just being a friend.”


“You know Brian, a friend would have told Pam to go talk to her husband and not have told her to call them instead.” He looks past me to where Cece is climbing the railings and says, “Cece, feet stay on the ground.” When Cece plants both feet on the ground, Jim turns back to me and says, “That’s what a friend would have done.”


Ashamed, I let my head hang low. I broke protocol and reached out to Pam motivated by this crazy idea that I could somehow draw her pain away. Like an electrical shock, maybe it would pass through her harmlessly and terminate in me. I stood by and watched her heart being broken before. I just couldn’t watch that happen again. Look, I wasn’t thinking. I just saw her crying and a switch turned on inside of me.


“I wouldn’t think twice about telling Alyssa to go talk to you first before offering her my friendship .” He shakes his head and adds, “You were there from the very beginning. You were at my wedding; you were at the hospital when my kids were born….”


This is not the mild-mannered Jim Halpert I’m used to seeing. “It wasn’t like that,” I insist.


“Admit it,” he says calmly, but his voice is rimmed with a sharp edge.


“What? No.” I shake my head. “I loved my wife,” I tell him. “I loved Alyssa.”


“I know,” he says. “But you liked Pam too.”


I feel the words welling up – words I’d never said to another living soul. Saying it out loud will make it true, and it can’t be true. I try to push them back down, choke them back, and drown them. But I feel them crawling their way out and I can’t hold it in any longer. “Maybe I liked her more than I should of, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”


Jim scrunches his brow and twits his lips. He keeps his eyes on Cece who is still gawking at the giraffe. The giggly little girl hasn’t stopped bouncing on her feet.


I sigh defeated. “Look, I didn’t plan on that happening. I feel awful. You have to know that,” I tell him honestly. “I wished I hadn’t felt way. But please know I would never come between you guys. I would never put myself somewhere I don’t belong. I loved Alyssa more than anything, you have to know that.”


There’s a beat of silence before he asks, “Does Alyssa know?”


“Our divorce was finalized six months ago.”


His brow furrows. I see sympathy there. “Sorry man,” he says genuinely.


“It’s okay,” I say. “It was the right decision for us.”


“But not an easy one.”


“No, not easy,” I say honestly. “I thought it would be good for us to be apart for a little while. Cool off, you know? But then I got the divorce papers…” I look past him and I see my crew starting to set back up. “But hey… I’m on the market. So, if you know anyone...” I say, going for comic relief.


He offers a smile rimmed with pity. “Look,” He sighs and looks anywhere but at me. “I’m not mad at you. I was mad with myself,” he says. “You were there to look out for Pam when I wasn’t.”


“I would prevent anyone in that office from being attacked,” I tell him.


“But you were there for Pam…”


“I had no ulterior mo—”


“I know,” he interrupts me.


The nearby noises filter around us and I feel perfectly calm for the first time in months. I hear a small sound behind me and I turn to see Cece. She walks timidly by me and reaches her arms out to Jim. He lifts her up and she cups her small hands around his ear and whispers. Jim pretends it’s the most fascinating piece of information he’s ever heard.


“Maybe in a few minutes, okay?” Jim tells her and a big beautiful smile adorns her face. “So,” he turns to me. “The interview?”


“Right… I think my crew is ready.”


“So, you’re just going to ask me about the giraffe?”


“Pretty much,” I say.


“Okay.” He looks at Cece and says, “Let’s tell Brian here about the giraffe, then we will get ice cream, okay?”


Cece nods approvingly.


We do the interview, shake hands, and part ways. I walked around too long with these emotions locked away and I feel a release, like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders. To be perfectly honest, I’ve always liked Pam. There is something about her that is vey raw and beautiful and a lot of people fell in love with her after the documentary aired. But I loved Alyssa. She was the one that made my heart skip a bit - till this day I can’t look at her without having all these feelings well up. Even though Alyssa doesn’t believe that, I glad Jim does. Even if life is still in shambles right now, at least I have this one loose end tied up.