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A/N – Here I go again. Haven’t written a season 3 fic in a long time.


DISCLAIMER – I don’t own anything related to the Office. Title from the song By Your Side by Tenth Avenue North.



By Your Side



“How are you going to cook every meal of the day in one kitchen?”

“Hah,” she laughed, “it’s simple. I buy breakfast, order a salad for lunch and then stick a frozen thing in the microwave for dinner.”

“Frozen thing. Sounds delicious, really, Beesly.”

“They are. Easy clean up. No leftovers. Oh, hey, guess what?”

“Hmm, Ryan made a sale.”

“Nothing that crazy,” she mused sarcastically. “But it does have to do with him. Dwight took him on a sales call.”

“Dead in a ditch. You owe me thirty dollars. I only accept cash or traveler’s checks.”

“Nuh-uh. I win. He just came back into the office, alive and well.”

“You’re lying. I need photographic evidence of his continued existence.”

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. He came in really quickly, took something off of your… uh, his desk and then left again.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” her voice trailed, their two hour conversation hitting a lull. She searched for something to say, for anything to add, but nothing else came.

What she wanted to say, ask, admit - it all wedged itself in her chest, lodged and dry and aching to move past her lungs and out into the open.

“Um,” his voice broke the silence, bringing her back from her panicked state. “The uh, cleaning people just came in here, so I should probably go. Before they spray me down with Windex or something.”

“Oh, right,” she frowned into the receiver. “I um, should go too.”

“Hey,” he said with a cracked voice. “I … I’ll um...”

“Yeah,” she gave; wishing every word she’d ever known hadn’t been dissolved into the pit of her stomach, churning. She pounded her fist on her desk and closed her eyes. “Maybe … I can um, I - I’ll call you when I get home? We can have dinner together.”

“Okay. I’ll race you,” he agreed. “N-nothing’s changed, so… yeah. When you get in give me a call.”

She closed her eyes again and smiled, swallowing dry air as she nodded. “Okay. I’ll catch you in twenty.”

“You got it, Beesly.”

From the second that she hung the receiver back in its cradle to the moment she stepped into her apartment, she felt like her breath had been taken away. The months that they hadn’t communicated, the times she held her phone in her hand and wanted to call him, only to dissuade herself from doing it. The time she took to get her life back in order after it exploded into small fragments in June when she canceled her wedding and broke about twenty hearts in the process. All of it because she fell asleep every night since the day Jim walked away from her wishing she could turn back time and stop herself from nodding.

She wanted to replace that one action with words, something that was never her strong suit – saying what she wanted to say instead of what was expected of her. Every night since May she wished she could fall asleep in his arms. Every night since that night, all she wanted was to hear him laugh, hear him say her name, hear him tell her those words again. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t wished for it every single day and tried to bury it deep down into the bottom of a box that held the memories they had created together.

If she weren’t as nerve wracked as she had been, standing in front of her refrigerator with her cell phone in one hand and the door handle in the other, she would pat herself on the back for saying something this time instead of letting it all slip away again. Both sides of her mind battled between it being a good thing that he agreed to continue their conversation and that this was all meaningless. That he was just being polite, being the good friend he always had been to her.

She stared at her phone as she placed her frozen dinner inside the microwave, the beeping of the numbers she pressed her finger into echoing off of the cabinets and bare white walls.

She wasn’t allowed to hang anything on the walls. It was in the lease. She wondered how much time it would take to pack up her things and move. She never really liked the apartment. It never bothered her until that moment, as the plastic plate spun around.

Tapping her foot on the linoleum floor, she flipped her phone open, her finger hovering over the send button as she stared at his name on the screen.



*
In the five months that he had lived in Stamford, he had never driven back to his apartment so quickly and with such a positive feeling inside of him. Yes, sure the phone call was an inadvertent error on his part, assuming she had been gone for the night. But now, as he sat on his couch with a half eaten container of fried rice that tasted like cardboard and nothing more, he felt hopeful. Cautiously optimistically hopeful, but hopeful nonetheless.

What it all meant that she wanted to continue their conversation, what the point of it all was, what would come out of it – he tried not to think about it. Tried to focus his eyes on the television screen, watching people smarter than he answering questions in the form of questions for money they probably didn’t need.

As he waited for his phone to ring, he wondered how quickly he could move back to Scranton, immediately admonishing himself for thinking such a thought – she hadn’t even hinted at anything other than wanting to continue this conversation. He let out a breath; causing particles of old fried rice sputtering around the couch. With a dismissive shrug he continued half heartedly to shovel his food in his mouth, his eyes willing his phone to ring.

When it did, the rest of the contents in the container fell to the floor, his hands seemingly forgetting how to hold onto objects. He let out another hard breath as he lifted the phone open, clearing his throat before he answered in a cracked voice he barely recognized.

“Hey, so which one did you pick?” were his first words, attempting to continue the string of topic from earlier.

“Macaroni and Cheese.”

“Oh, Pam. That must taste…”

“Absolutely disgusting? Yes, that would be what this tastes like. So…”

“So, uh. How – how was your drive home?”

“The usual. Red light, green light, turn here, turn there. You?”

“Same,” he nodded, leaning back on the sofa. He kicked up his feet on the coffee table, ignoring the mess of fried rice that lay on the floor.

“How’s your dinner?”

“Uh, mostly on the floor, actually. I dropped it.”

“Oh my God,” she laughed. “W-you didn’t pick it up?”

“Eh, I’ll get to it later.”

“Nice,” she erupted into another fit of giggles.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her laughter. He had no idea what he should say next, what he was supposed to do now that what he had been hoping would happen actually had occurred. He bit his lip and listened to her breathing on the other end, and before he could stop himself, he whispered, “I miss you.”

The pause that followed was only quick enough to make him start to think the call failed, until he heard her sniffle and reply, “I miss you, too.”

.

.


By Your Side


Chapter 2



The air seeped through his nose like a slow leak, as if his lungs were tires that someone had inserted a pin into, taking with it his will to fight from opening his heart again. He balled his fist, pressing it into the armrest of his couch and shook his head. The small part of his body that had healed over the five months he had been in Stamford begged him to realize that missing him wasn’t enough from her. The part that still thought about her once every two hours – that part wanted to drive back to Scranton and hug her. He opened his mouth, his lips curling in a circle beneath his front teeth.

Her voice sounded again, each word coming through the phone at a snail’s pace. “How was your summer? D-did you go to Australia?”

“Oh, um. No,” he said, releasing his hand, stretching his fingers. “I didn’t have a chance to go, with the move and everything; it would’ve been too much at once.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nodded to no one, shrugging his shoulders. “H-how was, um. How was your summer?”

A sardonic laugh came from her end. “It was… um, interesting.”

“Care to elaborate,” he let out, a small light scoff behind the words.

If someone else had been in the room, he would have had the decency to cringe at his own words. He had imagined that if he ever spoke to Pam again, he would wait for her to tell him about how things had gone since the last time they saw one another. He pictured it being around the holidays during his visit to his parent’s house. He’d run an errand, catch her in the store, make pleasantries as if she hadn’t ripped his heart out and stomped on it. And the longer she hesitated to describe her summer, the more he wondered about what he had done to their ease with one another by leaving so abruptly.

They used to be able to talk freely, always able to joke. He was always the one to lighten the mood when things headed into awkwardness. He was always the good friend. Deep inside his gut, he knew he had been the one to dismantle their friendship.

He took a sip of beer. It didn’t wash away the simmering build of guilt in his stomach.

“Okay,” she cleared her throat. “So. Remember that day I talked to Jan about the art internship?”

He nodded. “Yep, I definitely remember that.”

“Well, I had found out that there were similar classes that were offered nearby. So I figured that Roy would be okay with that since they’re in Scranton.”

“Okay.”

“I mentioned the classes to him, told him that it would be a few night classes during the week. No big deal.”

“Sounds good to me, so far. Doesn’t sound like a big deal,” he said with a small hint of pride.

“That’s what I thought. He… was more concerned with how I was going to take care of cooking and cleaning and classes at the same time. I mean, he didn’t’ say it in a mean way, just in a … you know. It was all about what I would do for him as his wife.”

“Wow,” he muttered, wiping his hand over his mouth. He wanted to add more – include what he would have done in that situation, how she was better off not being married to someone who took her for granted like that, but he stopped himself and waited for her to continue.

“Yeah. It was kind of the last straw. So, I called the wedding off. It wasn’t easy. We still had to pay for most of it. The caterer gave us all the food – which really, how do you make all of that food a few days before. I mean… okay chicken and fish don’t go bad but, still. I ended up eating chicken for lunch and dinner through the whole summer.”

“Oh man.”

“I know. I swear… if… if I ever, you know, do that again, I’m not having chicken on the menu.”

“Yeah, get pork medallions, or something like that,” he quipped.

“Exactly. After that, I moved in with my parents for a few weeks. I registered for the art classes and returned all the gifts. I have a car of my own now,” she said, her pride showing through her tone.

“Which kind?”

“A Yaris. The two door one. It’s blue.”

“Nice choice.”

“Thank you. I kind of picked the apartment because of the price. It’s cheap, close to work and close to the college. It’s a cute place, minus the fact that I can’t hang anything on the walls.”

“Wh-why won’t they let you hang things up?”

“I heard that twice, someone hammered through the wall instead of into a beam and the wall cracked.”

“What kind of walls are in that place?”

“That’s a good question. I don’t know, but yeah. It’s good for what it is.”

“You could still hang things up, if you wanted. They make that tape now that you put up on the wall and it releases itself without any residue.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks, Jim.”

“I’m the brains of this operation, how could you forget?”

Her laughter sounded in his ear, pushing a smile onto his lips. “Yeah, you’re the brains and I’m the builder.”

He nodded, taking another sip of his beer. The day he came up with that phrase, years ago, he meant to say beauty instead of builder. It was one of the many times where he would catch himself before he said too much.



“Builder?”

“Yeah, cause you’re the artist.”

“If you say so.”



He could still see her smile, radiating throughout the break room as they went through their plans for their very first prank.

“We had some good times,” she said, her voice snapping him out of his trance.

“We did,” he agreed.

“So, what’s Connecticut like?”

“Um. It’s different, you know? It’s more pretentious. Lots of big name cars, big houses. Same chain stores and restaurants as anywhere else, though.”

“Oh,” her voice softened to a whisper. “That doesn’t sound like your kind of place. I mean, not that it doesn’t sound nice.”

“It’s nice. It’s um, a good change of pace. There’s no Michael here, but there is one guy who comes close to him.”

“Michael is an original, that’s for sure.”

“That he is. Which reminds me, what exactly did he do this time? We had another one of those diversity training sessions.”

“Oh. He kissed Oscar,” she gave, flippantly.

“W-he did what? Why?”

She let out a laugh. “Long story?”

“Go for it.”

“Well, Michael made an insensitive comment about gay people to Oscar. Oscar complained to Toby. Toby told Michael that Oscar was gay. Dwight looked up gay porn, and then to prove he didn’t have a problem with Oscar, Michael kissed him.”

“Whoa. You know, I probably shouldn’t be as shocked as I am.”

“Yeah, Michael is something special. Oscar got some time off work and a company car. He said he was going to get a Lexus,” she continued. “Oh, hey, he’d fit right in in Connecticut.”

“So true. Wow. I can’t believe it. I mean, I know Michael. I shouldn’t be surprised. He gave a waiter a one hundred dollar tip at that convention a few months ago just to show us up.”

“Oh yeah, he doesn’t care about what lengths he goes through to make a point.”

He took another long sip of his beer, trying to swallow his curiosity about that date she went on, the memory of hearing about it coming back with a gut punching force. With a shake of his head, he let a few seconds of silence linger.

“So, yeah,” she said after a moment. “Not much has changed. Except, um. You know. Except you’re not here to share it all with.”

“Well, now you can keep me posted on the goings on,” he suggested. “You can email me and stuff. Tell me all about those delicious frozen dinners you eat, all the drawings you’re doing and all of the craziness that happens in that office.”

“I could,” her voice brightened.

“Yep. It’d be nice to hear things first hand.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” she said evenly.

“I do.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“So… what else did you do this summer?”

“I don’t want to sound philosophical or whatever. But … I figured out who I am without someone else. It’s … weird when you’re so used to doing things with someone else all the time. But then, I mean, I had to learn it.”

“Yeah,” he gave. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Oh… yeah, separating myself from who I was when I was with Roy is part of it. I had to learn how to be an adult, take care of myself. But I … meant that… I had to learn how to do things without my best friend. It was like … a double whammy.”

“Do they still say double whammy,” he chided, pretending he didn’t hear what she implied.

“Shut up,” she mumbled.

“Sorry. Continue.”

“I found this really nice spot in the park, on Saturday mornings I go there and sketch. I’ve gone through two sketch books. I have a one year lease here, so I’m hoping by next year I’ll be somewhere different. Somewhere that I can put a few my sketches up on the walls and maybe get a puppy. This place is just sort of a place holder.”

A grin spread across his face. In all the time he’d known her, he hadn’t heard her speak so proudly of her art, so positively about her goals for a future.

“I’m really happy you’re giving your talent a chance.”

“Thanks. I… I wish you could see them.”

He licked his bottom lip and inhaled slowly. “Do you have a computer with a webcam?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s old, but it still works. W-would you want to maybe see them on that some time?”

“Definitely. How about tomorrow night?”

“Okay. Yeah,” she agreed happily.

“Great. So, tomorrow then?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Good night, Pam.”

“Good night.”

He stared at his closed cell phone for a second, and as hope seeped in, he brushed it away, grabbing a broom and cleaning up the living room floor. Thoughts stayed at bay through the night, he slept well without the sounds of her voice between his ears for the first night in months. As he readied himself for work the next morning, he convinced himself that the conversation was nothing more than friends catching up. He didn’t question what it meant that he slept better that night than he ever had. He didn’t question what it meant when she said that she was trying to get on with her life without her best friend.

He didn’t question what it meant that he stood at the check out counter at Target with a Quick and Easy recipe book and Command hooks that guaranteed damage free hanging.

.

.

By Your Side


Chapter 3




She woke up with a start, shooting straight up in her bed, her heart pounding outside of her chest, her eyes trying to adjust in the dim morning light. Clutching her chest, she slowly reclined back onto her pillow, rubbing her hands over her forehead. It felt so real, the dream – or more accurately named – nightmare. She had been seated on a plane, and as it took off sharply in the air, descending as quickly as it had gone up, her body lifted in the air and she flipped over in her seat. She tried with all of her energy to call out to someone, but her voice couldn’t be found, and her eyes forced themselves closed. The last thing she heard before startling herself awake was someone calling her name.

Her pulse slowed and her ragged breathing eased as she looked around her room. Her alarm was due to signal another work day in less than ten minutes. She rubbed her hand over her arms, trying to push back the goose bumps that covered her skin. If the dream were symbolic, she thought, in that moment as she lay there watching time click away, she couldn’t find the meaning of it other than her brain trying to scare the living daylights out of her.

For the first time in months, her next thought was that she had to tell Jim all about it as soon as they spoke. And for another second, she feared that last night was all a dream as well. She scrambled out of bed, picking up her glasses and shuffling her feet into her slippers, walking quickly toward the living room for her cell phone. She let out a long slow breath as she checked her call list and saw that yes, that conversation she had with Jim last night was very much real and not a manifestation of her subconscious.

It wouldn’t have been a second thought had it not happened before. But it had. More times than she cared to admit, she and Jim would be sharing stories and joking at her desk, only for her to awaken, shivering and alone, her sheets kicked to the bottom of her bed.

She bit her bottom lip and grinned, quickly showered and dressed, taking a cereal bar with her and made her way to work, all in record time. The second her computer booted up and she finished checking the main line’s voice messages, she logged onto instant messenger, pouting when she didn’t see him signed on. It had been the first time she had signed in over the last five months, and she half expected him to be there, the other half of her brain trying to send her a reality check – telling her that it was just a two friends chatting last night. It didn’t mean he would be available to chat online just from one good talk.

She left herself signed in, went to make some coffee in the kitchen and that’s when a thought came to her. She walked nonchalantly back to her desk and discreetly took her cell phone from her bag. The wait for Ryan to walk into the office wasn’t very long and she patiently waited for him to get settled at his desk before she snapped a picture of him with her phone, captioning it with ‘Here’s Proof. I’ll expect a check in the mail, kind sir,’ sending it to Jim without a hindering thought. Once the check mark came up that the message had been sent, she left her phone on her desk and went about making herself a cup of coffee, attempting to hide the grin that knocked on the corners of her mouth.

The moment she returned to her desk, she checked her phone, allowing the smile to form as she read his reply.

How do I know this isn’t an old picture? I need further proof.

She shook her head and held in a laugh as she took her desk calendar and set it on top of the reception desk counter, taking another picture with the date displayed in the corner, pressing send.

A few moments later, his reply buzzed on her phone, startling her slightly as she almost obsessively stared at her buddy list.

That’s probably the smallest picture I’ve ever seen, but it will have to do, I suppose.

She wanted to reply that he could call Ryan himself if he had any doubts, but she stopped herself from doing so, afraid he would misconstrue her sarcasm in some way. The eggshells she felt like she was walking on were both annoying and necessary. Instead, she replied with a question, asking him if he still used instant message.

Before she had a chance to settle back in at the computer, his screen name appeared on her list. Without a second thought, she clicked on his name and started typing.

Receptionitis15: Hey, good morning. How are you?

JIM9334: Good morning to you. Do you take money orders?

Receptionitis15: LOL No, cash or personal check only. Or dinner.

She stared at the screen, unable to comprehend what she’d written, or how quickly she had written it, but the more the seconds ticked by without a reply, the more the knot in her stomach twisted itself into a tight bulge. She closed the instant message box and stared at the toolbar at the bottom. When it blinked with his reply, she hesitated, cringing as his words appeared.

JIM9334: $30 for dinner is a lot for one person. How much are you planning on eating?

Her heart sunk just a bit, though she tried to feel relieved that he went the joke route instead. Relief didn’t come. But she kept the joke going.

It’s what they did, she knew. She grappled for the right combination of words to play along. As usual. She sighed and typed.

Receptionitis15: You know how expensive those frozen dinners can be.

JIM9334: Right, exactly. I hope you get the ones with vegetables at least. Keep yourself healthy, Beesly.

Receptionitis15: Eh, they’re overrated.

It wasn’t a big deal, she told herself as she read his last reply over again. He was just making a comment, she reasoned. But that small comment from him about keeping healthy somehow meant a few volumes more to her for reasons she refused to allow herself to think about.

He’s in Stamford, she reminded herself. Still, it didn’t stop her from quickly answering and transferring a call and going right back to her instant message.

Receptionitis15: It was really great talking to you last night.

JIM9334: Same here. Is tonight still good for me to take a look at your art work?

She could feel her cheeks fluster, the way they had last night when he suggested they chat via webcam. She nodded, then laughed at herself, reminding herself that he couldn’t see her.

He couldn’t see her yet, anyway.

Receptionitis15: Yes, tonight sounds like a plan.

JIM9334: Awesome. Text me when you’re all set up and we’ll figure out how to connect. I have to run now, some sales calls to make on the road. I’m going home early, sort of make up for the upcoming overtime I have to do.

Receptionitis15: Overtime? That’s so unlike you, Jim.

JIM9334: Oh I know, can you imagine? I’m assistant manager now though. I have to make sure those order forms get consolidated.

Receptionitis15: Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve never done that here. I do work for Michael though, so, there is that.

JIM9334: Michael’s not so bad.

Receptionitis15: Yeah, I’m sure once the whole run-away bride thing wears off, he’ll be easier to tolerate. Five months later, I’m still waiting for that to happen.

JIM9334: Don’t let him get to you.

Receptionitis15: Oh, I know. My eyes are going to permanently roll into my skull soon, but I’ll try.

JIM9334: Okay, talk to you later. Have a good afternoon.

Receptionitis15: You too, see you later!


The smile she wore when he signed off stayed with her through two conference room meetings, Kelly standing at her desk three times, reminding her about the Diwali celebration that was days away – as if Pam had not been involved in designing the invitations. She kept the grin in place during lunch as she munched on her salad, finished a Sudoku puzzle and sent her end of day faxes.

There had not been a single thing she could think of through her drive home other than she had to get home, fix her hair and put on a nicer shirt before she logged into their webcam chat. There was nothing her pessimistic side could do to calm her nerves or make her remember that these little things didn’t mean anything other than he lived two hours away now and had not said a word to her about the transfer.

Her phone startled her out of her thoughts as she was in the midst of fixing herself up, just in time to stop her thoughts from roaming downhill after she had done so well with building everything up throughout the afternoon.

“Hey,” his voice sounded in her ear. “Just wanted to let you know, I’m on my way home. I had to stop at Fed Ex, and it took forever. Apparently people start shipping Christmas gifts way before Thanksgiving is even here.”

She looked toward her door and nodded silently. “Oh, okay, yeah. I um, I’m going to get dinner then and I’ll see you in what, like, an hour?”

“An hour sounds good. See you then.”

She closed her phone and sat on her sofa, her eyes still trained on her front door. “How much do I have to wish so that you’ll walk through that door?” she mumbled to herself.


*

If there were such a thing as Cloud Nine, he would have bet anything that he was somewhere near the seventh of that series. He knew he should be angry with her for all of the things that happened last June. He knew he could blow her off and not bother with any of it, continue his life in Stamford and maybe, just maybe give a little more attention to the brunette that sat behind him. Especially since she had asked if he wanted to go for drinks after work. She was forward, and part of him probably needed someone like her.

But old habits die hard, especially when his habit was named Pam Beesly. Throughout the afternoon, during the quiet moments in his new Saab between sales calls, his thoughts were evenly split. That it all meant nothing. She was in Scranton, he moved to Stamford to escape her and last night and today, they were just friends catching up. The other half of him couldn’t wait to get to his apartment and see her paintings and sketches. That part was ignited when she asked if he was on instant message. He forced himself not to over think it as he sped toward Fed Ex, adding in a quick note and shipping the small package to Pam’s attention at the Dunder Mifflin Scranton office.

It didn’t faze him in the least to call her and let her know he had been running late. What he felt like afterward, though, was that he should be showing up at her apartment instead of logging into a webcam chat. For the second night in a row, he would give up on the drinking in excess and video gaming he’d been doing nearly every night since he settled in his apartment. He had to make a promise to himself tonight though.

Tonight, if things led toward something awkward, something that could have a dual meaning, that he would press her. He wouldn’t joke about it or joke out of it like he did earlier that day when she mentioned dinner.

He wondered if she had been offering to have dinner with him. But his defense mechanism in his brain told him not to get ahead of himself. So he let it go with a joke. Tonight, though, it would be different. He spent far too much time trying to heal his heart for her to trample all over it again. For all he knew, she could still be dating that guy and he would be back to square one emotionally.

He wouldn’t call it remarkably well, but he had made it through the last five months somehow. He knows that once he sets foot in his parent’s house for Thanksgiving that his mother is going to notice the weight loss, the tired eyes and the slight slump in his gait.

Without a reservation or second thought, he opened his computer and sent Pam a text message asking her if she knew how to set it up on her end. A quick chat on the phone, a few clicks of their fingers and they were both staring at one another on their computer screens.

It was the first time he had seen her with her hair down, save for that one time she showed Kelly how she would wear her hair for the wedding – the one that didn’t happen, he reminded himself as he took her in. Loose curls, she wore makeup and her lip gloss shimmered. The contrast of her red blouse and her dark blonde hair made him swallow hard.

“C-can you see me,” she asked, her eyes roaming over her screen.

He could see her finger reaching out to her screen. He nodded. “Yeah. Hi. How-how are you?”

“I’m good. Just ate,” she grinned, her teeth shining. “Um, so. I have two sketch books. I’ll just pick out my favorites. I don’t want to… you know.”

“I have nowhere to be except here,” he affirmed. “So, let’s seem ‘em.”

She went page by page, slowly showing him sketches of an old couple sitting on a park bench, of birds sitting in trees, colorful leaves in the grass, a sunset over water, a group of children playing, a vase, a bowl of fruit, and their office building.

“You drew our office building?”

She nodded. “I guess it’s just mine now, but yeah, I did.”

“I still sort of think of it as mine – or ours. You know? Kinda hard to break out of that.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess you’ll get used to it eventually?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Oh, this,” she turned the page. “This is Kelly’s Diwali invitation. I’m probably not going but, it was fun drawing it up.”

“What’s a Diwali?”

“Um, it’s an Indian celebration. I’m not going though.”

“Why wouldn’t you go? It might be fun,” he offered.

“I… sort of don’t have anyone to go with.”

He puckered his lips and paused, forcing the words that were in his mind out of his mouth. “What about that guy you were seeing?”

“Roy?”

“No, not Roy,” he rolled his eyes at her. “That guy, I was at that convention and I remember Michael told you to have fun on your date?”

She looked confused for a moment and he watched the confusion melt into understanding. “Oh, um, yeah that didn’t really work out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I um,” she took a sip of water and her eyes fell down toward the keyboard. “I really don’t think there’s anyone in Scranton that I’d want to date.”

.

.


By Your Side


Chapter 4




“What? Why not,” he asked, startling both of them with his question.

He watched her shrug and shake her head, her light laughter emanating through his speakers. Her shoulders fell a little and she reached for something outside of the camera’s viewing area, her head popping back in the frame a moment later.

“Um, so, anyway,” she said, her eyes fixed downward. “I have a few sketches that I started for this art show we’re having.”

“Oh, when is it?”

“Um, some time in the early Spring.”

“Can I see what you’ve done so far?”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks grew pinker. “It’s not really done yet.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he laughed, taking a napkin and a pen in his hand.

“You …” she trailed, a smile forming across her lips.

“Look,” he held up the napkin. “It’s a pumpkin.”

She let out a laugh at his attempt to draw an even circle and triangle eyes. “Very realistic.”

“Why thank you,” he grinned. “Now, let me see?”

She bit her lip and opened her sketch pad, leafing slowly through pages one at a time. “I um, I’m not … I mean, I love them but, I might stick with the others. They just seem safer.”

He let out a quick breath through his nose as he watched her display a sketch of two children facing one another and a puppy in the middle. “Why wouldn’t you want to display that? I think it’s great,” he spoke slowly, his voice tinged with awe.

“You know, it’s just. If someone doesn’t like the one’s I’m working on to display, I mean, it’ll hurt, but whatever. But if someone didn’t like this one, I’d kind of … I don’t know. It just means something to me. More than the others do.”

“What were you going to do with this then?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking of adding a baseball cap to the boys head and maybe the girl can have some freckles.”

“Oh, no I meant why wouldn’t you want someone to see that?”

She shrugged. “I guess … because I’m just not ready for someone to knit pick on it. I’ve only ever done objects, not real people. It’s been a rough couple of months. And I know, maybe by then I’ll be better. But I don’t think I could really handle another kick to the gut.”

He took a moment and watched her as she looked over the sketch. He knew he could be dense. His mother had told him on more than one occasion that he was in fact clueless sometimes. But in that moment, as he tried to figure out what code she was speaking in, he couldn’t understand what kick to the gut she had gone through. She was the one that turned him down – his mantra for the last five months.

He cleared his throat and widened his eyes. “I really like it. It has potential.”

“Thanks,” she smiled at him as she closed the sketch pad.

“So, what else have I missed,” he asked.

“Um, well. Phyllis is engaged to Bob Vance.”

“Hah,” he let out. “I wonder if she’ll start saying, ‘Phyllis Vance, Dunder Mifflin’.”

“You never know,” she grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “Um, what else… Oh! I probably shouldn’t tell you this. But Dwight and Angela are dating. But you can’t say anything.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “How can you tell me that and expect me to not say anything?”

“You have to promise,” her voice rose an octave as she grinned. She closed her mouth and tilted her head. “Swear on something.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “What can I swear on? This is huge news. Oh… wait. Oh my God I … she was in Dwight’s room at the convention,” he said with an air of disbelief. The thought lingered and he suddenly felt nauseated. “Oh - oh my God, I almost walked in on Angela and Dwight.”

“What?”

He shook his head quickly, attempting to wipe away the distasteful image. “I got a copy of Dwight’s room key.”

“Obviously.”

“And when I opened the door, there was a woman on his bed,” he clicked his tongue. “I thought it was a hooker.”

“Oh my God, you look like you’re about to be sick,” she joked.

“Yeah,” he said seriously. “Wow. How do you figure that happened?”

“The less I know the happier I am.”

“Oh, I agree with you there,” he let out a disbelieving breath. “Wow.”

“Crazy, right?”

“A little bit,” he mused.

“Anyway, I should probably get some things done, I have class tomorrow night. Maybe we can talk again sometime this week?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, adding, “It’s been really great catching up.”

“Yeah, it really has been,” she smiled softly. “Sorry we lost touch for so long. It’s … I didn’t know, you know?”

“I do,” he nodded. “Have a good night. I should be on instant message tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she grinned. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Sounds good. Take care of yourself, Beesly.”

“You too,” she said, her grin sliding a bit. “Good night.”

Her image froze on the screen as the chat disconnected. He leaned back on his sofa, slung his arm on the headrest next to him, keeping his eyes trained on her face. Even with the smile she wore, he still saw a hint of sadness. As he watched it fade away slowly blip by blip, he couldn’t help but wonder how badly damaged their friendship was. With more effort than he realized he needed, he stood from the couch, closed his laptop and moved toward his kitchen, lifting a beer out of the refrigerator. He sighed as he sat back in the same spot, wondering why his first instinct was that he needed to repair what was broken between them, whether or not it would lead anywhere. He couldn’t let the hope back in. That part of his life had to move on, he reminded himself. They could be long distant friends. One thing had nothing to do with the other he rationalized as he mindlessly turned the television on and began searching for something to watch. He tried to keep any other thoughts of something more between them at bay.

The moment that he laid his head on his pillow, however, all he could think of was the simplest thing, sitting in a quiet movie theater with his arm around her shoulder.



*


If Pam had to rate her mornings on a scale from one through ten, the morning after their web chat would have been a negative ninety. She tripped over her own shoe the second she set foot out of bed, stubbing her toe on the leg of her dresser as she tried to steady herself. While she showered, she found herself without conditioner, wondering how she could have run out of that before the shampoo bottle emptied. The second she walked into the office, she remembered she left all of her art work on her sofa, guaranteeing she would be late to her class already, and it was not yet close to nine in the morning.

The instant she pressed the power button on the computer tower, the CPU started beeping, she groaned and let out a frustrated sigh. She left a message with the IT department and set out to brew a pot of coffee, rubbing her fingers over her temples as she waited for it to finish. The instant it was finished, she lifted the pot at the exact second Kelly bounded into the kitchen, reminding Pam about the Diwali in the over enthusiastic way that Kelly did every thing. The start inside of Pam caused her to jerk the hand she had been holding the coffee pot in, spilling some hot coffee onto the counter.

“Pam, you like need to be more careful,” Kelly pointed to the counter before turning around and walking through the door toward the annex.

“Thanks for the tip,” Pam muttered under her breath as she mopped up the spill and poured herself a cup. She let out a sigh. “Just one of those days.”

Michael had his bi-weekly crisis with Jan, calling Pam into his office to discuss ways to improve productivity in the office. Most days, she knew hot to handle Michael, but that morning in particular, her nerves were down to the bare minimum. It seemed he sensed it, or caught something in her tone, keeping her in his office behind closed doors for close to an hour, over-sharing details about his personal life.

She struck from her memory each syllable Michael uttered the second he spoke them. All she could think about as she sat and listened to him droll on was that she hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Jim that her computer was down and she couldn’t log into instant message.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a delivery person standing next to the reception desk being acknowledged by no one. She pointed toward the woman and stood, excusing herself quickly despite Michael’s protests that he hadn’t finished.

“Sorry,” she smiled to the woman, pointing toward Michael’s door.

“Happens all the time. Package for Pam Beesly.”

Pam paused for a second and shook her head in surprise as she quietly signed for the package. She ignored Dwight’s comments about how she shouldn’t be receiving personal items on office property, thanked the delivery person and sat herself behind her desk, avoiding the inquisitive eyes of her coworkers.

She tried not to gasp at the mere sight of Jim’s handwritten Post-It notes atop each item in the box.

One read: For all of your art work that should be displayed.

The other read: So you don’t have to eat boxed food anymore. Use that stove, Beesly.

She loved so much about both of the items her eyes washed over. But what she loved most was that he didn’t write his name. She loved that he assumed she’d just know it were from him. An emotional tidal wave burst through her like never before, and she wondered for a moment where all of it had come from as she took hold of her cell phone and scurried quietly out of the office, walking half way down the stairwell before she sat. The tears that stung her eyes seeped from her lids and swiped them away as she dialed his cell phone.

“Hey,” he answered quickly. “I was looking for you online.”

“You sent me a cookbook and Command Strips.”

“You don’t have to get so emotional about it, Pam,” he joked. “It was supposed to be funny.”

“It is. It’s… I’m having the most horrible morning and … it’s…the one good thing, today. I… Thank you. It … you didn’t have to.”

“Okay, easy. What happened?”

“Just,” she took a breath. “Everything. I tripped over a shoe before I even got out of my bedroom. That should’ve been my first clue as to how this morning was going to go. My computer here is broken or whatever, it won’t go on. I was going to call you before and let you know, but Michael dragged me into a meeting. And, I spilled coffee on the counter and some of it got on my skirt. I just… I need a hug. And maybe a drink.”

“I did not know you could talk that fast,” he quipped. “Fast talker, fast typist. You should go for some kind of Triple Crown thing. What else can we come up with?”

She laughed, drying her slightly moist cheeks. “I’m a fast driver.”

“Now that’s not safe,” he chided lightly.

“Like you’ve never gone above the speed limit.”

“Never. I’m a safe driver.”

“Yeah, okay, grandma,” she laughed. “Didn’t you get a speeding ticket like a month before you left?”

“Uh, no. That wasn’t me.”

“Okay, if you say so,” she said playfully. “Anyway, how’s your day so far?”

“Pretty good. I’m in the middle of that order form consolidation thing.”

“Oh, I thought you were doing overtime for that.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d get a head start on it. So, did you decide if you were going to Kelly’s thing?”

“I think I’ll go just so I don’t have to listen to her complain that I didn’t go.”

“Seems easier,” he agreed.

“All right, I’ll let you go. I should see if IT is coming to fix my computer.”

“At least you won’t have to work,” he joked.

“True. Hey, um thanks for that stuff. It really means a lot. It’s like the hug I need today.”

“Anytime, Pam. Use them in good health. Hope your day gets better.”

“Thanks, Jim. I can’t thank you enough. Talk to you soon.”

“You bet.”

“I wish you were still here,” she sighed out as she moved her cell phone away from her ear.

The time blinked as the call ended and she flipped it closed, letting out a slow breath as she stood against the wall.

The remainder of her afternoon went by in less dramatic fashion. She decided to use her lunch break to go back to her apartment and get her artwork while IT fixed her computer. She made class on time, and her professor was impressed with the sketch of the children she had shown him on the side, suggesting that she keep working on the depth of it. He encouraged her to put more heart into it, and for the first time in a while, she was in the spirit to accomplish it.

The next morning was malady free – mostly. Until the point in the day where Kelly felt it necessary to dote over what Ryan wore. For some reason the unease of going to alone to the party crept back in. Jim had been no where in sight on instant message through the day, and by the time she went home to change, she all but dragged herself to her closet to pick out jeans and a sweater.

When she arrived, the party was underway, and as she looked around, watching everyone dressed up far more than she, the knot in her stomach turned a bit more as she got her hand stamped for official entry.

She felt her cell phone buzz a few moments after she walked in, and quickly found a quiet corner to look at her phone in private, her smile instant as she saw his name appear.

It’s a really nice night outside. Shame you’re stuck in that stuffy room. Maybe you should go get some air.

She strode toward the door, hoping she was being as nonchalant as possible, walking straight through the main door with a smile on her face.

“What are you doing here,” she laughed as she walked quickly down the steps.

“I know I’m a day late. But, you said you needed a hug.”

Tears stung her eyes again as she moved toward him, sinking into him as his arms wrapped around her.


.

.


By Your Side



Chapter 5




There were so many moments in his life that he knew he would remember for the rest of his days. The first time he made a slam dunk to win a high school basketball game. The first time he held his niece. The day he picked up a guitar for the first time. All of those memories held in his heart, fondly recalled upon at random times. Over the past few years those memories took a back seat to all of the things that were wrapped up in three letters. Pam. During the five months he'd been away from her and away from the town he had driven back to on an impulse, he was able to erase the memories just dull enough to know they had been there, but were illegible to the naked eye. It was as if it were a dry erase board that had become overused; the colors and shapes embedded on the white surface, incapable of being ridden of completely.

The second he saw her walk down the steps with a mixed expression of happiness and incredulousness, his heart widened and the colors started becoming vivid again. He fought to keep them at bay, hiding his nervousness behind a smile as she stepped into his arms and hugged him.

As he held her they all came back one by one, reappearing through her scent, the sound of her voice and the touch of her hands at his waist. He began to feel again the way he had the day he met her, her extended hand and warm smile greeting him, pulling him in the instant he saw her. The day they spent at the park, a random Saturday with nothing to do, she had offered to meet him so they could devise a prank. The entire year he spent with her in her car, learning how to drive a stick shift, impressing even himself with the ability he had to play it off as though he had no idea what he was doing. He lived to hear her voice reprimand him, telling him that he needed to start paying attention.

His first night in Stamford he tried to purge all of it. All of the laughter and all of the tears, all of the joy she unknowingly brought to his life wound up in a virtual dumpster in the corner of his mind. Never in any of those memories did he have anything real. Even the kiss they shared the last time he saw her held no real value. He grappled with it, tried to assure himself time and again that it had. Eventually, he managed to convince himself that a kiss out of desperation could never be tangible.

If he had told anyone that he had driven this far of a distance to hug the woman who broke his heart into fragments that couldn't be placed back together, they would have sent him for help. As her hands released from his body and her eyes shined brightly at him, he fought the impulse he had to pull her back to him and kiss her. With a swallow of dry air he stepped back, placed his hands in his pockets and reminded himself that he lived in another state. They could only be friends and nothing more. He wondered what he was trying to accomplish then by driving all that way. The part of his mind that healed begged him right then and there as he stood in front of her to remember how difficult trying to get over her had been.

When she smiled widely at him and asked if he wanted to go for a walk, he shut off the aching part of his brain, begged himself to get a grip and let her lead the way.

“You sure you don’t want to go back in there?” He pointed over his shoulder as he walked a step behind her.

“Nope,” she shook her head, eyeing him sideways, her head turned toward the pavement. She turned toward him, her grin widening as she spoke. “I’d much rather spend time with you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and bobbed his head as they walked a few more feet toward a bench on the outskirts of a park across from the school.

“Do you remember when we came here,” she started to ask.

“Yep. We would stretch our legs after my driving lessons and we’d always somehow wind up sitting here.”

“And I’d always say, because we didn’t just sit in the car for forty five minutes,” she spoke with a light, reminiscent tone.

He laughed and nodded. “You know, I could probably use a refresher course.”

Her eyebrows rose and she smiled weakly. “Yeah, maybe one day I’ll surprise you and drive to Stamford and give you another lesson.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

She stared off into the distance, her lips parted, and a faraway look in her eyes. A small laugh escaped her opened mouth.

“What,” he asked.

“No, I um, I just can’t believe you’re here,” she shook her head, biting her bottom lip as she stared and picked at her fingernails.

“So,” he said, feeling her nervousness exuding from her. He bumped his shoulder into hers. “Want to hear something cool that I did over the summer?”

Her face brightened and she smiled instantly, turning her head to look at him. “Obviously.”

“Okay, brace yourself.”

“Braced,” she joked, straightening her posture.

“I saw the Blue Angels. Live and in person.”

“Get out of here. The fighter planes from the Navy that you always talked about?”

“Yep,” he said with widened eyes and a nod. “It was so cool. At first the sound of the jets is so overwhelming. But as the show goes on, you get used to it. They’re perfect, all flying in synch with one another. It’s really amazing. I met one of the pilots; he was the most awesome guy. Shook my hand and we started talking about the Eagles.”

“Wait, what about the Eagles?”

“Oh, because I was wearing an Eagles hat, he asked me what I was doing in Connecticut. Turned out he was from Philly originally. It was awesome. My niece loved it.”

“Vanessa went to go see acrobatic fighter planes?”

“Yeah, she begged my brother to take her, because it was just going to be me, Pete, Tom and my dad. But she got insulted and my mom made us take her.”

“That’s so cool,” she let out a breath and looked at him in awe. “Did I ever tell you about the time I saw the man in black?”

“The who?”

“Haven’t you heard of him?”

“Do you mean that old wives tale about the ghost thing at that bar pub place?

“That’s the one. I was working there and I totally saw his ghost.”

“No. Come on. It’s not real,” he balked. “I think every guy in their early twenties tells a girl that so he can get her to hold onto his arm tighter or something.”

She shook her head quickly, her voice pinched as she widened her eyes. “He’s real. I swear.”

He smiled as she told her story, having heard it from several people before, still not believing a word of it. He watched her move her hands as she spoke, listened to the tone of her voice as it grew more excited. When she finished, she smiled proudly and nodded, raising and lowering her eyebrows.

He shrugged his shoulders and laughed, licking his lips as he shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it there, Pam.”

“One day you have to come back there with me. You’ll see.”

“Okay, let’s do it,” he agreed, letting out a breath, stretching his legs slightly in front of him.

She waggled her eyebrows again and grinned, her full set of teeth almost in complete view.

He swallowed and allowed an easy grin to work its way onto his face. He shifted himself slowly, slightly to his right, until his right arm brushed against hers. Her reaction was instant, and a second later he felt the weight of her arm press against his.

They sat quietly, staring at their hands, crickets chirping in the grass and the sound of cars passing by filling the gap in conversation.

She leaned further into him, turned her chin upward to the sky and inhaled. “I guess this is one of the last warm nights before we get hit with winter.”

“Yep. Summer is definitely almost over,” he agreed.

“Yeah. Did I tell you? For the fourth of July I went to Niagara Falls and watched the fireworks from there.”

“Wow.”

She smiled proudly. “I went by myself, stayed overnight too. It was pretty amazing.”

“Wow,” he repeated, letting out a breath. “You know, I have nothing that tops that.”

“It’s a highlight of the summer. That and I fixed the leaky faucet in my bathroom. Oh, and I took out my air conditioner and sealed the windows a few weeks ago.”

“Look at you,” he peered at her with a grin. “Taking art classes, fixing things, seeing one of the wonders of the world. You’re living it up.”

“Yeah,” she shook her head, plucking at a piece of lint on her jeans.

“I can’t believe you went to Niagara Falls by yourself. That’s…,” he ran his hand over his mouth. “Wow. I’m really impressed.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I sort of needed to just get away and clear my head. So. It was nice.”

“I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he said adamantly.

“Come on, it’s probably the kitschiest thing ever. You’re not a cheesy person.”

“You don’t know me very well then, Pam.”

“Yes I do, I know you’re lying,” she said teasingly.

“I’d never lie about that.”

She smirked and shook her head. “Mm-hmm,” she hummed disbelievingly.

“I’d never lie to you, Pam,” his voice low and serious as he stared at her.

She bit her lip and stared at him for a moment, her face falling into a frown.

“Well, now you have to tell me why you just made the saddest face I’ve ever seen,” he prodded.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” she shrugged.

“It’s something.

“No, trust me. It’s nothing.”

“Please?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a snort. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay, Pam. I … I know we aren’t so great at talking about things. Maybe we should start,” he admitted, seizing the first chance he found to nudge her to something more than superficiality.

“It’s okay,” she tried to deflect.

“I’ll sit here all night until you tell me.”

She smirked again, blinking her eyes slowly before she spoke. “Fine,” she relented, rolling her eyes at him again. “It’s just something I’ve been wondering since you said it.”

“What,” he asked, holding back exasperation and fending off the urge to insert a joke to lighten the air around them.

She sighed, relenting. “You… you meant it when you said nothing’s changed?”

He nodded, took a deep breath and said, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she shook her head again slowly.

“Why?”

She sighed. “I’m … I’m trying to figure out how.”

“How what,” he asked gently.

She spoke calmly, almost in a whisper when she said, “I’m… trying to figure out how I can forgive someone who said what you said to me and then just leaves without saying goodbye.”

He should have seen it coming, he told himself as he hung his head. “I asked for it.”

“Yeah,” she turned her head toward him, a small knowing smile traced on her lips.

“I … had to leave. I didn’t want to be here anymore.”

She nodded, frowning and biting her bottom lip. “I get that. I know you did what you thought you had to do, I respect your decision,” she spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable as if it were the first time she had admitted it to herself. “I just … I thought we were friends, you know?”

“We were,” he agreed.

“I know. We were,” she inhaled and puckered her bottom lip before she said, “I … I called off my wedding because of what you said to me. I … then I realized afterward that I’d never see you again. And it … it would have been nice if we could have said goodbye.”

“I … Pam saying goodbye to you would have been the hardest thing I would have ever had to do. I couldn’t put myself through it.”

She faced him slowly; tears glistened in her eyes as she breathed. She tilted her head. Before he could realize what happened, her head rested on his shoulder. He closed his eyes when he felt her reach for his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Me too.”

“I’m really going to miss you.”

“Why?”

“We aren’t best friends anymore,” she said in a small voice. “You live there, I live here.”

“Well. We can try to get back there,” he tilted his head, his cheek lightly resting on her head.

“Can we?”

“I think so.”

“Okay,” she agreed, adjusting her head on his shoulder. She took his hand into hers, squeezing his fingers lightly. “I’m still mad at you.”

He smiled to himself and stared at the moon as her finger tips grazed over his hand. “Yeah, I can tell.”


.

.



By Your Side


Chapter 6




Beautiful days deserve beautiful memories.

It was a sentiment she had read while picking out her mother’s birthday card a few short months before, and it stuck with her. A lot of that day stayed with her. She had been shopping with her sister Penny for the perfect gift to go along with the card, their sisterly chatter had been mixed with last minute wedding detail and her sister’s relationship concerns.

Pam had been the one doling out advice to her sister, as Penny lamented about the uncertainty of continuing a relationship with someone she had been dating for nearly a year who showed more passion for a football game than he did with her. The more Pam listened, the more she saw her relationship with Roy within the shell of what Penny had been going through.

As they strode through Boscov’s, Pam interjected with, “Can you see yourself waking up with him every morning? Can you honestly say that you’d be happy going home to him every night? Is he the one person you’d tell anything to? Do you get excited at just the thought of seeing him?”

Penny shrugged silently through each question and changed the subject to the latest news about their cheating cousin, but Pam’s own advice stayed with her. No one except her mother knew what Jim had confessed, and as they walked toward their car to go home and wrap their mother’s gift, Pam wondered when the excitement of seeing Roy had died, and when it was replaced by relief whenever he would go out.

Once her decision was made, she hadn’t looked back. And months later, a week removed from seeing Jim for the first time since June, the feeling of his hand in her own still gave her this indescribable feeling in her stomach. For the six days since they said their goodbyes by her car door with promises to see one another soon, the way he smiled at her before he walked away made her want to run to him and beg him to stay.

Instead, for the past week, she’d called him every evening and each time they ended their conversation, she couldn’t help but fall asleep with the thought of what it would be like to hear him say goodnight to her with his breath on her bare skin and his lips on hers. It was as if her mind ignored the awkward pauses in conversation, as if it didn’t hear the underlying tone of the things they hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud yet.

She found herself awake and dressed before seven in the morning, a feat unknown to her usual Saturday morning rituals of cleaning, shopping and painting. Before she could second guess herself, she unfolded a piece of paper containing directions to Stamford that she had printed out the day before – simply asking him for his address had been easier than all the ways she tried to think of ‘tricking him’ into giving it to her. He hadn’t questioned why she wanted it. In turn she had given him her own address.

That simple action alone seemed to have done wonders for last night’s conversation. There was more laughter, more reminiscing, and less longing – at least for her.

It hadn’t occurred to her to be nervous until she stood on his doorstep hours later, holding the pie she bought on the way, second guessing herself as the milliseconds ticked by before he answered the door.

He opened the door, his hair in exactly three different directions, his eyes bleary and his cheeks covered in stubble. The smile on his face the moment he saw her had been genuine.

The surprise in her eyes had been equally as genuine when she saw that he had a thin brunette seated on his couch.

A wave of heat mixed with nausea flowed right through her as she thrust a smile onto her face and swallowed her shock.

“Hey,” he said with wide eyes and laughter in his voice. “I thought you were busy today?”

“Hey, I’m so sorry, should’ve called first,” she rambled, trying to figure out if she were angry or embarrassed. “Um, I can just… I’ll go … I didn’t mean to um, I’ll, just.”

“Come in,” he insisted.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “I was just stopping by really quickly to say hi, and bring you this. It’s not homemade. Well, the people at Perkin’s probably made it somewhere… but you know,” she laughed nervously. “I’ll… I’ll see ya. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh yeah, same here,” the brunette nodded, confusion littering her face. “It’s Karen, by the way.”

“Pam, hang on,” Jim said, steadying her hand as she picked at her fingernail.

She smiled suddenly, fighting back her embarrassment. “I’m meeting someone in a little bit for lunch, no big deal. I’ll see you.”

She ignored him as he called her name, walking away as quickly as she could, sliding into her car and paying him no mind as he stood next to her car, tugging on her passenger door, pressing her foot on the gas, she pulled away slowly.

The tears held off from forming until she was safely back inside her apartment, and she waited for them to hit her the moment she closed her door – finding it odd when they didn’t show.

Instead, she took her cell phone in her hand and stared at the screen as it flashed seven missed calls, six voicemails and ten text messages. As she scrolled through the missed calls, she squinted as she stared at one name that didn’t read Jim. With a sharp inhale, she settled herself on her couch and listened to the voicemail and returned the phone call, leaving a message.

“Hi, Danny, its Pam. Sorry I missed your call. I guess we’re in for a game of phone tag. Yep, I’m free tonight. So… tag… you’re it. Just let me know what time and I’ll go put my bells on,” she laughed nervously.

She pressed the end button and began to read through the text messages she had received from Jim, the last one asking her to call him when she got home. His voice messages all ended the same way. That she wasn’t interrupting anything and that she should call him when she got home.

Choosing to text him instead made her feel better. She reasoned that it would at the very least hide her tone, which as soon as she exhaled, became choked up and thick.

She wrote to tell him she had gotten home and that she would talk to him again soon, sending it after reading the short text over to make sure she hadn’t been harsh. And as soon as she pressed the send button, she wondered why she cared if she had been harsh.

With nearly five hours of her Saturday gone, she searched her closet for something to wear that evening and busied herself with menial chores she hated doing – vacuuming, dusting and cleaning the kitchen.

It wasn’t until six in the evening that she broke, when no return phone call from Danny came, she fell in on herself, fat hot tears sliding down each cheek as she sunk into her couch.

Fifteen minutes into her pity party, her phone rang. With a relenting sigh, she answered.

“Hey. Sorry again for barging in this morning,” she started, trying to keep her voice even.

“Come back.”

“It’s late.”

“It’s only six. If you leave now, you’ll be here in no time. We can get pizza and watch a movie and talk about what just happened.”

“Nothing happened. I’m… I’m used to it.”

“Used to what,” he questioned, his breath filling her ear.

She let out a sigh of her own and decided the veil of the phone was enough coverage for a bit of honesty. “I’m used to watching you be with someone else.”

There was a pause long enough for her to question if the call had failed. His tone was even and calmer when he finally spoke. “Karen just stopped by this morning because she’s wanted some file for work.”

“Oh,” she nodded, closing her eyes.

“Can you please come back?”

“It… it’s late, Jim. Maybe I’ll see you if you come back home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

“Fine. What’s your address, I’m coming there then.”

Before she could contemplate the merits of giving him her address versus standing by her original statement that it was too late, she instinctively did the former and soon found herself re-tidying up her apartment.

Once her couch pillows had been as fluffed as they could be and her kitchen countertop gleamed, she set out to find something in the cookbook he had given her to make for dinner that would work with the limited ingredients she had in her apartment. Flipping through page by page, scanning her cupboards and refrigerator, it became apparent that she had done little in the way of changing her meal choices, or much of anything else.

She slumped down in her seat and shut the cover of the book with a thud. It had become a habit of hers of late – one step forward, two steps back. It hadn’t been intentional, but she had managed to find herself in that kitchen chair more often than not feeling upset with herself for not being more than what she could be.

A knock sounded at her door, pulling her eyes away from a silver knob on her cabinet door. With a deep inhale she walked the small distance and greeted him with a forced smile.

“Hey,” he said, squinting one eye, holding out a white box to her. “I sort of ate that pie you brought so…”

“You ate the whole pie?”

“Yep. Between bites, I called you. I know, super productive. I looked down and saw I managed to eat the whole thing throughout the afternoon. So, I brought you this. It’s tiramisu.”

“Thanks,” she shrugged one shoulder and moved aside to let him in. “Come in. How are you not sick?”

“My stomach is like a steel cage.”

She muttered a laugh and tried to smile as he patted his stomach.

“You okay?” he questioned as he walked inside, his eyes wandering around the small living room.

“Oh yeah. I was going to make dinner, but I never bought any ingredients, so,” she twisted her lips to the side as she closed the door. “You shaved.”

“I did,” he nodded and rubbed his cheek. “Should I not have? How did you have time to even notice?”

She grinned and shook her head. “Whatever.”

“No, not whatever. We should talk,” he prodded. “Let’s go get some dinner, and then after we could go catch a movie.”

“I guess,” she sighed. “I mean, you did drive all this way. And you brought dessert,” she tapped the cake box and walked toward the refrigerator.

“Some bottled water and yogurts do not make a good refrigerator,” he said, standing to the side.

“Oh yeah? What’s in yours?”

“Well, if you stuck around long enough you would have seen a weeks worth of store bought leftovers and some beer.”

“You’re never going to let me live it down, are you?”

He shook his head slowly and widened his eyes. “Not until you tell me why you took off so fast.”

“I thought I was interrupting something,” she gave, staring at the inside of her refrigerator, gasping the handle tightly. “Which is totally fine, I was just… a little embarrassed that I intruded. I mean, you should be with someone that makes you happy. I mean, I can’t even fill a refrigerator or paint anything decent that’s worth showing anyone,” she rambled.

“Hey, that’s not true,” his face drew a serious look. “What you showed me the other night was great.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that about everything.”

“Well, then show me something you don’t like and I can try to help you,” he offered. “Go get it.”

“What about dinner?”

“We can order in, I’ll call Cugino’s. I still have the number on my phone.”

“Okay. But you don’t have any artistic ability. Unless you count messing with Dwight as an art form.”

“Oh, hah-hah. Hey I know good art when I see it.”

She shrugged hesitantly. “I mean, it’s not going to get me anywhere anyway, so.”

“Okay, two things. I’m going to help you remove those words from your vocabulary. And also, I’m not seeing anyone else at the moment. I’m standing in front of someone who makes me very happy just by smiling. So if we could start off with one of those, that’d be great.”

“Oh yeah?” she grinned, feeling heat travel to her cheeks.

“Yes. Go,” he pointed his hand in the air. “Nice apartment, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she gave, trying to avert her eyes from him as she stepped out of the kitchen.

She heard him order a large cheese pizza with half mushrooms and half plain as she gathered her sketch pads and half finished paintings. The moment she stepped into the living room and saw him reach for the remote and turn on the television, she silently thought about how close she was to something more than what she held in her arms. What she really wanted sat on her sofa flipping through the channel guide.

She cleared her throat, attempting to shoo away the butterflies in her stomach and walked toward her sofa, setting her artwork on the carpet next to his feet.

“Okay, let’s see. Which are the ones you don’t like?”

She quietly flipped to a water color she had done of a school. “There’s this art contest, nothing big really, but I’m going to submit this to the school. The kids are going to vote on the best one.”

“Get out of here,” his voice raised with enthusiasm. “That’s so cool! You’ll win.”

“Thanks,” she smiled easily.

“I think you have more confidence in your work than you think you do,” he gave, still holding the painting.

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe,” he turned to face her. “You’re entering an art contest. That says a lot about how confident you are.”

“Yeah but, these are just, the rest of them are for that art show, and I’m not happy with how any of them are turning out.”

“All right, let’s have a look.”

She showed him several pictures – the beginnings of their office building and some pictures of fruit. When he sat quietly through each one, her frustration in her work built back up.

“Yeah, I know they’re terrible,” she frowned.

“They’re not terrible. They’re good. But … it’s an art show. What would you want to see at an art show?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really given it much thought.”

“Okay. Well, I mean, I don’t know a lot, I admit it. But what if we go to an art gallery tomorrow and look at some paintings. Maybe some inspiration will hit you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ll call Mark and ask him if I can stay at his place for the night and I’ll come back here in the morning.”

“You can stay here,” she said without forethought.

His eyes widened, his reply cut off by the knocking of the pizza delivery person.

They were silent through half a slice before he spoke again. “You’d really be okay with me staying here tonight?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I mean, you have to go all the way back to Stamford tomorrow at some point. I just figured we could maximize our time together.”

She watched him take another bite of his pizza, his eyes directed toward the television, his attempts at hiding a smile fruitless. “Yeah. Okay.”

They finished their pizza, she watched as he stared sickeningly at his half eaten slice of pizza before he tossed it in the box and wiped his hands. He looked through more of her paintings once their dinner was cleared away, and he made helpful suggestions for each piece she had been working on. All of them ended with - “Add more color.”

The comfort she felt just sitting inches away from him as they watched a home improvement show on TLC made her heart long to be closer to him. When she offered to get up and get him a drink, he quietly shook his head and wound his arm around her shoulder. She lifted her head and pressed her forehead into his chin as she placed her arm across his torso. She wished that things could be different, that he had never moved away. The moment his nose pressed into her hair, she closed her eyes and cataloged the memory as if it were the only one she would ever have of him.


.

.


By Your Side



Chapter 7




“So, then I was thinking, maybe I’ll try to try to look for another job, but then I don’t know. I’m kind of comfortable where I am. So I don’t know what to do,” Isabel said, stabbing her fork into a plate of pasta, sitting across from Pam at a local diner. “Okay, come on, what’s wrong with you today?” Isabel asked.

Pam had shrugged her third shrug in a row, knowing that the second one would raise an eyebrow and the third shrug of her shoulders would get her the third degree. “What? Nothing I’m fine.”

“What’d I just say then?”

“Something about being comfortable in jeans.”

“Pamela,” Isabel pointed her fork toward Pam, accusingly. “You are not paying attention. Where’s your head? Oh wait. Let me guess.”

Pam merely nodded and let out a sigh.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Nah, it’s nothing. I mean… Did you ever think you were making real progress and then … And then it’s like. Okay. He’s been back in Scranton for a week. We went for coffee the night he came back. But now it’s like… like we’re back to friends and he’s … I don’t know.”

“You wanted to be friends again, though, right?”

“Well yeah, but no. I … want him to just be … not just my friend.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“Hah,” Pam scoffed, dipping a French Fry in ketchup. “Right. Just tell him, hey that girl that you’re seeing but keep telling me you’re not seeing that sits two desks away, she’s all wrong for you, date me instead.”

“Isn’t he the one that told you he loved you?”

“Yeah, but then he left. Then he was forced to come back. And now he’s completely backed off. The last time we sat near each other was that night he ended up sleeping on my couch.”

“He wasn’t forced to come back.”

“Why else would he come back? He could do so much better than this job.”

“Pam, would you please just talk to him?”

Pam shrugged again, rolling her eyes. “We don’t do that.”

“You don’t talk, and yet you’re best friends?”

“We talk about stuff. Just not important stuff.”

“That’s not a best friend then. I mean, does he know you? Outside of joking around and having fun, does he know you?”

“I think so. Maybe. Maybe not?”

“Maybe you need to let him meet the real Pam.”

“How?”

“How do you function? Ask him to come to your place one Saturday. Tell him something in your somewhere needs to be fixed and you need his help.”

“Trick him into coming over? That seems wrong.”

“It’s not wrong. Men want to feel needed.”

“No, according to Roy all men want to feel is a beer and a remote control.”

“Are you over Roy?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you break up with Roy?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t think you remember why. Let’s hear it,” Isabel insisted with wide eyes.

Pam let out a small laugh and shook her head. “Aside from all of the pushing the wedding date back, never doing anything… taking me for granted… never believing in me. Talking down to me… he wasn’t…”

“He wasn’t?”

“He wasn’t Jim. I realized that I had a better time with him at work than I had ever had with Roy.”

“Why can’t you tell him this?”

“It’s not that easy. There’s a lot to consider. I’m pretty sure he’s dating that girl Karen from Stamford. Even if he said he wasn’t that one time I saw her at his place.”

“What makes you think they’re dating?”

“I don’t know. She’s always over at his desk chatting, touching his shoulder, laughing at his jokes.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s dating her. You laughed at his jokes and you were engaged to another man.”

“I know, but.”

“But nothing. Look, if you really want him, go for it.”

“I do,” Pam answered instantly.

“Then let him see the real you. Let him get to know you. Not just work Pam, not just artist Pam. Let him get to know disorganized, klutzy, cluttered closets, miss matched socks and yoga pants Sunday’s Pam.”

“I could ask him to hook up my TiVo?”

“Exactly.”

“I have to go buy one.”

Isabel laughed, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to contain her giggles. “You, my friend, are hilarious. Why would you ask someone to hook up something you don’t even have?”

“It’s not like I wasn’t going to get one. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just haven’t done it.”

“That’s your problem. You think too much and don’t actually do anything.”

“Don’t judge me,” Pam narrowed her eyes. “Just come and look pretty while I’m buying this thing. That’s your only job.”

“Oh is it now?”

“Yes, as my supportive friend.”

“Fine, they have them somewhere. Let’s go do that. When are you planning on asking him to help you?”

Pam paused for a moment, her eyes focused on the receipt the waitress had placed on their table. “That’s fifteen each with tip.”

Isabel nodded, narrowing her eyes. “What a way to avoid answering the question. Great timing.”

“You should do stand-up. You’d be great at it,” Pam deadpanned sarcastically as she placed her money in the receipt tray.

“Thanks,” Isabel smiled, letting out a small laugh. “You should too.”

“Totally. I could call my segment, all the ways I’ve wasted my time. The Dunder Mifflin Pam misses her chance to be happy years.”

“Self awareness is always the first step,” Isabel mused as the pair walked out of the restaurant. “Anyway. Best Buy?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”



*



He had been back in Scranton for about six weeks, enjoying his time with his family during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. But what he enjoyed most of all had been watching Dwight believe he was chosen for a secret CIA mission.

He had happily accepted her gift to him during the office holiday party, watching what Pam had spent months setting up unfold in front of him filled him with more than the usual excitement he felt when he watched a prank go as planned. What made him happier, though, had been witnessing it unfold with her standing next to him. Over the time he had been back, their interaction outside of work had been limited.

They had met for coffee and saw one another in Best Buy before the holidays. She had been purchasing a TiVo at the time with her friend. They spent lunch time together in the office, and she would show him the projects she had been working on for her class.

Each night he would pause for a moment at the coat rack, bid her a good night. Each time she would reply, he sensed that she wanted to say something, but no words ever came beyond, “Have a good night, see you tomorrow.” On Friday’s it would change to her bidding him a good weekend.

There was something there though, something unspoken behind her eyes that he forced himself not to read into.

Some days, most days, he wondered what he had been waiting for, what he was doing, where his life was going that he was sitting there feeling just as helpless as before. Pam had clearly been set in her ways, going about whatever business she had to attend to.

There was another unspoken thing he had gathered from observing her. She’d grown, she’d become more independent over the time that he’d reconnected with her and gotten settled back into his life in his home town.

He appreciated the phone call she made to him to wish him a Merry Christmas. They chatted idly for a few moments, and there was something about the pause at the end of their call before she wished him a good day that he couldn’t get out of his head days later.

Each time he would look up from his work over the weeks that he’d returned, he would catch her staring at him, quickly turning away once their eyes met. She would linger at his desk after handing him a message, stay a second longer in the break room with him if he hadn’t been finished with his lunch. Any time he had a sales call, she would ask him how it went upon his return.

With a few days remaining in the year, he began making his resolutions. Part of him wanted to point to a date on the calendar and just make a mental deadline, and on that deadline day, he would move on with his life, like he had tried to before.

In an effort to make that happen, as the days grew closer to his least favorite holiday, he asked Karen if she wanted to grab dinner on New Year’s Eve. Their plans were set, he would pick Karen up from her place, go for dinner and watch the ball drop at the restaurant.

The other half of him told him to continue waiting, to give Pam more time, especially during the afternoon of December 29th.

They had been joking in the kitchen, making up New Year’s resolutions for everyone in the office, making sure no one was within ear shot. He loved those moments, the ones when she was herself, when there was nothing left unsaid, no awkward pauses.

The ghost of her head on his shoulder came back that day with a vengeance, and he had to continually remind him of his plans for the next day.

Their laughter died down after a joke about Ryan’s resolution and they stared at one another for a moment.

“I’m um,” he started, clearing his throat, feeling the skin on his cheeks loosen from its smile. “I should get back to work.”

“Oh yeah,” she spoke slowly. “Um, what um… what’re your plans for New Year's Eve?”

“I’m,” he cleared his throat, “I’m um, going out for dinner. What’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m um, I’m doing the same. Going out with my friend Isabel. The one you met that day at Best Buy?”

“Oh yeah, I remember her. Hey, how’s your TiVo?”

“Still sitting in the box.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. You should open it and use it. Let it fulfill its recording destiny.”

“Yeah,” she laughed lightly, staring at her hands. “Would you … feel free to come by if your plans fall through.”

He looked at her, watched her continue to stare at the table as she picked at her fingernail.

“Yeah, I’ll um, I’ll let you know.”

.

.


By Your Side



Chapter 8




If any person knew, really knew, the inside thoughts that sped through his brain, they would have had enough material to make a stand up comedy routine. One moment he refused to believe her offer to stop by her place meant anything. The next moment, he stared at Karen’s profile and compared it to Pam’s, detail by detail, knowing without a doubt that there could be no comparison. In his mind, Pam won at everything, in every way possible. From the differences in their hair to the stark differences in their physique, Karen was no match.

The thought that Pam had just asked him to spend a holiday with her and he’d turned her down made him want to shove his head in the freezer and wake up his brain. He watched through the blinds of the kitchen door as Pam stood stock still with her hand cradling a coffee mug, her eyes trained straight ahead on the men’s room door. In an instant she moved, walking back toward her desk, as if she’d had some realization that snapped her out of her trance.

As she passed his desk, she gave him a weak smile, stopping for a moment, looking at the wall before bringing her focus to him.

“Hey,” she started, pointing a finger at him, “Do you have a screw driver I can borrow? I think I’ll set up the TiVo at some point this weekend.”

He held in an amused laugh, but he couldn’t help squinting his eyes. “Why would you need a screw driver to hook up a TiVo?”

“Oh,” she nodded, laughing, her cheeks growing pink. “Um, I guess I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll have to look at the instructions.”

“Probably a good idea. Read the English version.”

She smirked. “Yeah, good suggestion. I recently forgot how to read Japanese.”

“Did you? I’m fluent.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yep,” he nodded, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Dwight started interjecting.

“Women should never use electronic devices. I once watched my great aunt electrocute herself trying to plug in a toaster,” Dwight said pointedly.

“Thanks, Dwight. Let’s just hope I don’t electrocute myself,” she replied, discreetly rolling her eyes.

“I can help you if you need me,” Jim offered.

“Please, that’ll be just as bad as if a woman did it,” Dwight scoffed. “I’ll help you. I’ll have it done in under a minute.”

“That’s fascinating,” Jim started, turning his attention toward Dwight.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll … I’ve got it under control. Thanks,” Pam smiled before walking back to her desk.


*


She wouldn’t have labeled it a last ditch effort to try to salvage the friendship she so desperately wanted back in her life. It had been close to it though. She realized as she walked back to her desk that she waited too long, missed her chance again, and the tears stung her eyes. But she refused to let the emotion win out over her. She took a long gulp of her tea and studied him as he stared intently at his computer screen.

A desire to go to her apartment and sit there until Tuesday when they had to be back at work after the holiday washed over her with a force unlike any other. She knew Isabel would call her a quitter, chastise her for giving up. She would own up to it, chalk it up to bad timing, and try to pick up the pieces again.

Picking up pieces of her life had become a part time job ever since the day she called off her wedding. With a resigned shrug and a sharp exhale, she busied herself, preparing for the end of the day, the end of the week, and made a mental note to stock up her refrigerator for the weekend.

He had given her a lot over the time they’d been friends. His warmth, his kindness, his sympathy, the strength she needed years ago to go home to another man and deal with her own unhappiness, just because she knew that she had Jim to turn to, to rely on.

As she gathered her things from her desk and left for the day, giving him a small wave as she walked toward the elevators, she found a new resolve. She still needed to take care of herself. She could not rely on him to bring her happiness, to enrich her life. It was not like they wouldn’t see one another every day, but she sensed a shift, very subtle or possibly not so, over the time since he’d returned to Scranton.

She regretted not doing something sooner, placed full blame on herself for missing her chance, and by the time she walked into her apartment, arms filled with grocery bags, she felt lighter, continually telling herself that some things weren’t meant to be. Whatever they had or could have had more of, that had passed somehow. She wondered if he remembered how she lamented about how they weren’t friends anymore and that she wanted to be the way they were again.

That was her flaw though, she realized as she stocked her cabinets and refrigerator. It was her fault for not telling him what she really wanted. She knew, had known what she wanted – him, at work, after work, over the weekends, in every facet of her life. At the time she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that, couldn’t find the courage to bring it up that night he showed up at her apartment with a pie and spent the night on her couch.

It was fear. Not the fear that he was in another state and long distance relationships never worked out. It was fear of something, nonetheless. She wanted, needed to tell him what it was she was so afraid of. But they were no closer to honesty than they had been when they were actual friends who relied on one another. No closer than they had been on that bench when he drove to Scranton that night and gave her the hug she so desperately sought from him.

Once the barrier was lifted and he returned, the fear settled in and she couldn’t move forward. She had tried the only way she knew how. The chat they had over coffee on his first night back would be something she would remember forever. The way he smiled, held the door opened for her, ordered for her, paid for her coffee and slice of cake, it made her feel as if they were on a date.

She slept, her dreams wracked with his face, images of things that could have been, pictures of the way things used to be.

When she woke up the next morning to tears pooling in her eyes, she let go of him, wished him well, and spent the rest of the morning in bed, letting the tears flow, allowing him to leave her heart proving far more painful in the light of day than it had as she drifted to sleep the night before.


*


Nervous wouldn’t have been his first choice of words to use. He could have called it anxious maybe, something more than anxious, but not nervous, because nothing was really on the line, nothing - except for everything. He’d spent a good portion of two hours getting ready, fixing his hair, picking out his clothes, making sure his teeth were flossed and his stubble had been shaved properly. He assured himself that he hadn’t put on too much aftershave and that his cologne was at an acceptable level.

The moment he stepped out of his bathroom, he remembered that he’d forgotten to put deodorant on, went back and completed that task, and stared at himself in the mirror once more.

No, he wasn’t nervous, he tried to convince himself. The shaking of his hands as he fixed his hair for the tenth time begged to differ.

He checked his watch, and darted for the door, taking his keys and the box he’d prepared with him, locked his door and walked to his car, his heart thudding in his chest.

If he tried to relive the drive to her place, he couldn’t have. Somehow, he managed to operate his vehicle while his head was a jumbled mess of things, distracting him just enough that he wouldn’t miss a stop sign or a red light.

He parked his car, clutching the box in his hand, checking twice to make sure he parked far enough away from the fire hydrant.

He stepped in front of her door, knocked three times - convincing himself that three was a good amount of knocks. More would be excessive. He’d have to ask her to be sure.

The instant the door opened, her eyes scanned over him as her mouth hung open, her expression not telling of what she thought.

“I did not know you wore glasses,” he said, grinning as her eyes lifted to meet his. Before she could think to deflect, he added, “You look really pretty with them. You should wear them more often.”

She let out a sound, somewhere between the beginnings of the letter G and a laugh. “Hi,” she finally said, her hand grasping the side of the door. “Come in.”

“Hi,” he replied, stepping through the threshold. “Did I miss the TiVo hook up?”

“Nope, haven’t gotten to it yet,” she closed the door behind her as they stepped into the small living room. She fiddled with the edge of her t-shirt, stretching the pink cotton material as far as it could go.

“Good. I brought tools,” he lifted the tool box in the air before setting it on the floor.

“I thought you didn’t need tools?”

“Well, let’s see,” he said, focusing his gaze over the few things that laid inside the box and not where his eyes wanted to stare – at the way her yoga pants accentuated the curve of her hips completely perfectly.

“A small hammer, a screw driver, twisty ties and dental floss?” she questioned as she peered into the box.

“Hey, my dad always said, if a hammer and a screw driver can’t fix it, twisty ties and dental floss can,” he widened his eyes as he snuck a look in her direction, wondering why her eyes were red rimmed underneath her glasses. “I wasn’t interrupting anything? I was going to call, but you said stop by any time. I know it’s not the right day that you said to but, I just figured,” he trailed off, biting back the anxiousness.

“No, no it’s totally fine. I wasn’t doing anything. Just watching TV.”

“Ah, speak of the devil.”

“Yes, the TV is the devil. My dad would always bug us to leave it off when we were younger. He thought it was ruining us somehow. So now I just keep it on all the time. Kind of out of spite, even though I know he has no idea I do it.”

“Well done. I didn’t know you were so feisty.”

“Eh. Not feisty. Just … anyway. Can I get you a drink? Something to eat? I haven’t made any dinner yet, but I have some snacks.”

“Oh, just some water’s good. Thanks.”

“Okay. You can sit, you know,” she smiled, waving her hand in front of the sofa.

“Right,” he said, letting out an amused laugh as she walked the few feet to her kitchen. “So, you haven’t used those hooks yet?”

“What? Oh, no, uh, I sort of… I’m not tall enough to put them up, and I haven’t bought a step stool yet.”

“Okay then, that’s been added to the blotter.”

“The blotter?” she questioned, handing him a bottle of water.

“Yes, the weekend blotter. A list, if you will, of things to do.”

“You could’ve just called it a to-do list,” she said with a glint in her eye as she sipped her water.

“What’s the fun in that?”

She nodded in agreement, her eyes trained on him intently. “I’m really happy you decided to stop by.”

“Awesome,” he grinned, pointing toward the box labeled TiVo, still in its original wrapped sealed condition. “So, is that the bad boy right there?”

“The one and only,” she laughed.

He moved toward the box, using the tip of the screw driver to open the seal.

“Hey, you used the screw driver, see? I wasn’t being ridiculous,” she said, taking a victory sip from her bottle of water, spilling most of it down the front of her shirt. “Oh, damn. What a mess I am.”

He knelt on one knee, leaning his elbow on the opposite thigh and watched as she tried to wipe up the mess from her shirt and the floor.

“Go ahead, you can laugh. It happens more than you think.”

“Really? How did I not know that about you?”

“Oh, there’s a lot about me you don’t know,” she replied.

“Well, now. I guess we can add that to the blotter too, then.”

“What?”

“The getting to know more about one another thing. So I can stop saying I didn’t know that about you like a hundred times,” he laughed lightly, rolling his eyes as took out a set of wires, instructions and the TiVo device.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’m just going to go change my shirt. And put on my contacts.”

“It’s water, it’ll dry. And the glasses are pretty cool. Just saying.”

“Thanks,” she grinned, walking slowly toward where he sat, crossing her legs she sat next to him and fiddled with a wire.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he squinted at the directions. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Didn’t you say you knew what you were doing?”

“Um, no I believe my correct words were, I definitely knew you didn’t need a screw driver. I said nothing about knowing what I was doing. That’s some other guy you were talking to.”

“Oh yeah, that was Dwight. Maybe I’ll go call him.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he narrowed his eyes, curving his lip in disgust. “There will be none of that as long as I’m around.”

“Okay, fair enough,” she agreed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll just wait for you to leave then.”

“Who said I was leaving?”

By the expression on her face, her mouth agape and her eyes widening, a smile appearing slowly, he knew he’d made the right decision that morning. The decision wasn’t very difficult to make once he realized that Pam had been making an effort in her own non-descript way. He just hadn’t been paying attention.

As he woke that morning, he realized that he needed turn off the part of his brain that kept telling him not to over think anything and just go with the flow. When he put the pieces of the puzzle together, he had a nearly completed picture of what she had been trying to do. There were just a few more pieces left to solidify it, make it complete.

His New Year’s resolution was quickly becoming learn everything about the woman beside him - the one who watched intently as he connected wires and tried not to make a jumbled mess that he was famous for. He needed it though; he needed her to keep watching him. Because the more she kept her eyes on him, the more at ease he felt, the less he cared that he had no barrier.

“So, let me ask you, what are you planning on recording,” his voice strained in question as he tried to reach around the television stand without knocking over the TV.

“What? Oh, um, I don’t know yet. I was thinking, probably trashy reality shows. American Idol’s starting soon. Maybe some old sitcoms.”

“Which one’s your favorite?”

“Definitely I Love Lucy. It’s a classic,” she nodded, tilting her head to the side as she watched him slide the TiVo into place. “What about you?”

“Gilligan’s Island. I don’t know if it qualifies as a sitcom. I used to watch it with my granddad once a week.”

He watched her smile as he pressed a few buttons on the black box, waiting for it to boot up. He would have sworn that he could watch her smile all day every day. But he already knew that, he reminded himself.


*

She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face, no matter how much she tried. Her mind had definitely leapt ahead of itself, and as she sat and watched him fiddle with her new electronic device, it had already been making plans for the next day, when the calendar would mark the end of one year and the beginning of another. As she watched him continue to wiggle wires as the machine booted, she couldn’t help but wonder what made him decide to stop by. Whatever it was though, she wasn’t going to let another opportunity slip away, whether or not he had been seeing someone.

“What else did you do as a kid,” he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Um, well. I used to love riding my bicycle around the neighborhood, draw, obviously. Normal girl type things.”

“Do you have any of your young Pam drawings lying around?”

“No. I think my mom saved them somewhere in her basement.”

“I’d love to see those some day.”

“Okay,” she said, forcing herself not to deflect. “What did you do as a kid?”

“Mostly got beat up by my brothers.”

“Aw, you poor baby,” she laughed.

“Oh don’t worry. I got them back. Master pranksters have to learn from somewhere. We get along better now. And we’re like a three man crowd when anyone messes with Larissa.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. No guy stands a chance with her because of us, at least that’s what she always tells us.”

“Nice. Scaring poor young unsuspecting teens out of their minds. Bullies,” she said with a light giggle.

“Not bullies. Just protective of our baby sister. Any boyfriend has to pass at least one of our inspections before he can date her. It’s mostly me now, since they’re both live out of state.”

“I feel sorry if you ever have your own daughter,” she mused with a grin.

He laughed and nodded, “Kinda like that dad on My Big Fat Greek Wedding.”

“You did not just say that,” she cackled.

“Did I just really admit that out loud,” he said, feeling his forehead. “I must be lightheaded.”

“Let me make you something to eat, and I’ll pretend that I never heard you mention that.”

“Stricken from the record?”

She stood, her grin wide as she nodded. “Stricken from the record.”

She couldn’t help holding out her hand to help him from his perch on the floor, and she couldn’t ignore the jolt in her heart at the mere touch of his hand in her own.

Yes, she thought as he followed her to the kitchen. She had to do something.

.

.

 

By Your Side

 

 

Chapter 9

 

 

 

“Okay,” she let out with a breath, curling her hair behind her ear as she leafed through the cookbook that sat on her kitchen counter. “We have BLT… or… oh, hey. Tuna salad,” she giggled. “Is that ever going to be not funny?”

 

“One day,” he grinned ruefully, standing with one hand on his hip and the other on the counter as he stood next to her. 

 

Taking his eyes away from her didn’t stand as an item of his things to do. He watched her look between him and the cookbook, the air around her filled with electricity that he picked up on every single time her cheeks grew pinker.

 

“BLT then? Seems easy enough, there’s a mayo sauce thing I can make.”

 

“Sure, sounds good.  No lettuce or tomato for me though.”

 

She looked at him twice, the second time her lips were drawn into a circle and a noise came from the back of her throat. “So just a bacon sandwich?”

 

“And the mayo sauce thing you mentioned,” he pointed his finger to the page, tapping it as he stood closer to her, his hand on her shoulder. “On whole wheat if you have. I’m trying to watch what I eat.”

 

She raised her eyebrow as she turned toward him in the small space that stood between them. He didn’t care to move back, just smiled down to her and watched her shake her head and laugh. She touched his forearm and squeezed it, stepping to the side to open the refrigerator.

 

“I only have regular bread.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“So picky?”

 

“Just trying to get my taste buds prepared.”

 

“Because you’ve had every single kind of sliced bread?”

 

“I have. Something else you didn’t know about me. I’m a connoisseur of all things bread related.”

 

She stood with her hand on the refrigerator door and tilted her head as she held a package of bread. “Does Wonder bread meet your satisfactions, sir?”

 

“Hmm,” he hummed, moving toward her, lifting the half full bag in his hands. “Seems good, still has a good amount of squish.”

 

“Stop squeezing the bread,” she laughed, snatching it from his hands quickly. “Such a five year old.”

 

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched her take out the rest of the ingredients for their lunch. And he couldn’t help himself from staring at her as she bent down to take a pan out of the cabinet below the sink. His eyes wouldn’t budge an inch as she laid bacon in the pan as she adjusted the flame.

 

Most of all, he couldn’t help walking up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him in a close, quiet effortless hug. The pads of her fingers pressed into his arm as it sat across the front of her shoulders.

 

He felt her inhale, touch his arm with the tip of her nose before turning in his arms to face him. She slowly raised her hand, brushing a piece of his hair from his forehead, grinning at him in a way that made all of his senses fly into overdrive.  

 

Her expression slowly fell serious, her gaze lowering from his eyes slowly down his nose to his lips, her hand slowly following her line of vision. He’d never admit to anyone that his heart stopped in that moment as he felt the pads of her fingers pull him closer to her.

 

He leaned in slowly, his eyes closing, his arms tightening around her waist, her arms hanging around his neck. The way her nail scraped across the back of his neck sent a chill over his skin, raising goose pimples on his arm.

 

Centimeters from her lips, he heard her whisper, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You mean so much to me. We can’t ruin it.”

 

He shook his head, the ability to speak lost. He let out a breath, his nose bumping with hers, he closed his eyes, feeling the light brush of her lips against his, soft, smooth, gentle. It was over too quickly he thought, until she rested the palm of her hand on the back of his head, pulling him to her again. His hand slid over her back, feeling her shake slightly as she stood on the tips of her toes. They grinned with closed eyes between kisses, disbelieving sighed laughter joining the sounds of sizzling bacon.

 

When they finally did pull apart, the smile on her face and the tilt of her head were two of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his life.

 

 

*

 

 

“I can’t believe you burned the bacon,” he shook his head as he finished his sandwich.

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I didn’t hear you complaining before when you interrupted my cooking.”

 

“That was all you. I did nothing. I’m innocent,” he widened his eyes, lifting his hands in the air.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“You’re really cute when you blush.”

 

“I am not blushing.”

 

“Oh. Okay, sure,” his tone stretched in disbelief.

 

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. If she thought back to her proudest, happiest moment before that day, she would only find a handful of days. Yet, not one single one compared to the way she felt that afternoon, seated across from the one person who meant most to her.

 

“I learned something else about you today,” he gave, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

 

“What?”

 

“You make the best burnt bacon and chili mayo sandwich anyone’s ever made.”

 

“Thanks,” she grinned for a moment before turning serious. “I hope you mean it because I’ll just keep making it for you. It’d be a shame to find out in like fifty years from now that you hated it every second you ate it.”

 

“Trust me. If in fifty years we’re still allowed to eat bacon and mayo, I’ll still expect you to make it.”

 

“Fair enough,” she nodded, standing to clear the table.

 

Before she took his plate, she leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips, leaving him with a dazed expression as she walked away.

 

“I… I can…” he stuttered, “I can do the dishes.”

 

She caught herself and stopped her mouth from saying no, that she had it. Instead, she took a moment to enjoy the feel of his hand on her arm before handing him the sponge. “Thank you,” she spoke quietly, drying her hand with a towel.

 

“Hey, would you want to see a movie tonight?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed instantly.

 

“Cool,” he nodded, his head bent down, the veins in his arms moving as he washed and rinsed.

 

“What do you want to see?”

 

“What do you want to see?” he parroted. “Wait, let me guess.”

 

“Dreamgirls,” they said simultaneously.

 

“You do know me pretty well, huh,” she said, gazing at his smiling profile.

 

“Yep.”

 

She wound her arms around his waist, pressing her head into his arm. She could be absolutely sure that she had never felt such joy in her life.

 

Later that evening as they sat next to one another in the movie theater, she’d never felt more alive, safe and secure than when he put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple, his lips lingering there as they lights dimmed. They shared popcorn and whispered their thoughts to one another during the movie, holding in their laughter as best they could, ignoring the glare of the person in front of them.

 

She caught his lips with hers when he turned to her with a frightened expression, motioning his head to the seat in front of them once the person turned around.

 

They missed the end of the movie and caught the beginning of the next showing, neither wanting to part their joined lips.

 

The next night, he showed up at her apartment with a single rose, his arm bent for her to slip her hand through.  They strolled through a nearby park, hand in hand, quietly walking, her head leaning on his arm.

 

He eyed his watch as it grew closer to midnight, and they stared at the sky, he standing behind her with his arms around her waist. Her gloved hands clung to his, and he kissed her forehead.

 

“Happy New Year,” he whispered low into her ear.

 

“We have another ten minutes,” she giggled, closing her eyes, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

 

“I didn’t feel like waiting anymore.”

 

She had no seconds to question him as he moved to stand in front of her, cupping her cold cheeks with his hands, kissing her with more force than he had all the other times within those twenty four hours. She lost track of where she was, or who she was as she deepened their kiss. It seemed impossible to her that time flew so quickly when fireworks went off behind them, the sky lighting up in celebration of a new year.

 

 

*

 

The six weeks that followed, the six weeks that included more dinners, more movies, his staying around her apartment longer than he should have just to watch her work on her art show projects. They attended their coworker’s wedding together, arm in arm, dancing cheek to cheek, the rest of the room disappearing.

 

She never mentioned to him that the ideas that Phyllis used for her wedding were the same ones she was to use for her canceled wedding to Roy. She didn’t see the point in expressing it, though she noticed it, she let it roll off her shoulders the minute he placed his arm around her shoulder, silently letting her know that he was there for her, standing beside her.

 

He led her to her door that night, stopping himself from walking in, afraid to move things too fast. He caught her staring at him as if she had more to say to him many times during those six weeks. He chose not to bring it up, wanting things to go the way they were intended to on its own time.

 

He heard her words play over in his head; that she didn’t want to ever ruin their friendship. He didn’t intend to work on egg shells. The things he wanted could wait for her to be ready for them. They would well be worth the wait, he knew.

 

She couldn’t have been more delighted when he showed up at her apartment hours before her art show to take her to it. She laughed when he tried to see what she had hidden inside the big brown folder he carried to his car as her heals clicked a step behind him.

 

He held his hands behind his back most of the evening as gallery patrons walked passed her creations, in his mind, one better than the next. Bright blues, vivid reds, paintings that expressed something beyond his understanding caught the eye of each person, their kind words brightening her eyes.

 

One of his favorites caught the attention of several people, each asking the same question, “Whose eyes were those?”

 

Each time, she bowed her head and grinned, telling them they belonged to her boyfriend. His heart swelled with pride each time she said those words. He stood silently beside her, watching her and the person she’d become blossom before his eyes.

 

He helped her take them down once the accolades calmed, gingerly placing them back in the folder.

 

As they walked to her door, she invited him in – he accepted without hesitation. “These are so amazing,” he said for the tenth time since he’d gotten in the car. “I’m so proud of what you did.”  

 

She turned to him as the door clicked closed, her smile and the hug she pulled him into all the thanks he needed, though she whispered the words shakily in his ear, “It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you standing beside me every step of the way. It meant so much to me that you were there, not just tonight. I…couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

He held her tighter, relishing the feeling of her in his arms.

 

She pulled back, glided her thumb across his bottom lip. “There’s something else you don’t know about me,” she said, her eyes glistening.

 

He quirked his eyebrow and tilted his head.

 

She held his eyes with hers, and he swallowed, focusing on her, not budging a muscle except for his heart.

 

“I love you, Jim.”

 

He grinned, lifted her in his arms and kissed her with a force that knocked her backward in his arms. She laughed as his lips covered hers.

 

He broke the kiss, his hands moving from her waist to her hair, her curls cascading down her shoulders. He shook his head in disbelief. “I love you,” was all he could say before his lips swept across hers once more in another kiss.

 

Neither had any idea what the future would bring – a job offer for him, a chance at something more in the art world for her in places other than Scranton.

 

Wherever they would go, they both made silent promises to themselves and one another to always stand by the other, never taking what they had for granted, remembering that the thing that made them best friends would always be their ability to laugh at the world together.

 

.