***
"Hey, what’s wrong? You look . . . out of it."
Jim’s body jerks slightly at the sound of Karen’s voice. They are both seated in his living room, a glass of wine in Karen’s hand, while Jim’s fingers are loosely gripping a bottle of beer. Suddenly, he feels Karen’s warm palm on his back, bringing him back to reality. His eyes are still a bit unfocused, so he brings his fingers to the corners of his eyes and pinches. It doesn’t help get rid of the blurriness.
"Nothing. I – I’m just tired, I guess," he responds. "It’s been a weird day."
"How so?" Karen asks as she tilts her head mildly to her right shoulder. "Are you talking about when Dwight went around asking all of us girls what all of our different PMS symptoms were? Because, if you think that’s weird, you don’t know Dunder-Miflin as well as I thought."
"No," Jim can’t help but snicker weakly at Karen’s comment.
He looks at her, meeting her eyes. She has a soft smile planted on her lips, and Jim wonders why that when he stares at her, he still feels as though his heart weighs the same as concrete. Resting his hand on his palm, Jim shifts his body toward his girlfriend.
"I’m not sure," he starts, "it’s just that– Hey, do you remember when Jan came in today?"
"Jan came in today?"
Jim sighs. "You weren’t there?"
"No, I went with Phyllis to visit another client. Why? What did Jan want?" Karen inquires. With a start, Jim realizes that Karen is usually the person who asks all the questions in their relationship.
"Oh, it was just something about Michael. I think he has replaced her birth-control with tic-tacs," Jim covers. Karen raises one of her finely shaped eyebrows.
"And that seems odd? Honestly Jim, your dense behavior is what is weirding me out, today."
Jim almost smiles at that, but it looked more like a wince.
***
When Jim had seen Jan walk into the office, his first thought was "Uh-ho." Wondering what Michael had done now, Jim was surprised when he heard that Jan was conversing with Pam.
"Hey, Pam." The words didn’t come out as a greeting, Jim thought to himself. They sounded more to him like: "Hey, Pam, I need a favor."
Jim stopped his typing discreetly, gradually slowing his fingers hitting the letters on his keyboard. He first wondered if Pam would get mad at him for eavesdropping, but he didn’t have any idea as of what was going on in her life right now. Not, that he really cared anymore. He found himself so sick with all the drama that had happened in the last few months, and he was yearning for a break. Drama seemed to follow Pam like a rain cloud these days. Earlier, he had felt her eyes on the back of his neck, and as he turned around he found that she was shamelessly gazing at him.
Despite the annoying soap-opera like life that he was experiencing, Jim couldn’t help himself from perking his ears as Jan talked with Pam.
"Hi, Jan. What can I do for you?"
Pam sounded just as tired as he felt. Perhaps she was also growing fatigued with all the bullshit. Jim wasn’t expecting what Jan’s next words were, and apparently, neither did Pam.
"Actually, I would like to talk to you."
Silence, then . . .
"Oh, okay."
"Can I speak with you? Maybe in the conference room?"
Unconsciously, Jim tilted backwards in his chair towards Pam’s desk as Pam stood and followed Jan silently into the conference room. In his peripheral vision, he noticed that Dwight – with the same expression as the T-one thousand – slowly rising out of his chair. Jan must’ve noticed, too, because her body turned sharply towards him.
"This doesn’t concern you, Dwight," she hissed.
Looking like his nephew when he was caught teasing the neighbor’s dog, Dwight settled back into his seat just as slowly as he had risen. Jim vaguely noticed that Pam’s gaze was directed to the floor, and that not once, did she raise her head to meet the rest of the office.
Once the door was closed, Jim spied Jan shutting the blinds from inside the conference room. Like a candle that had been lit, Jim could feel his tiny flare of curiosity growing quickly into a blaze. For a split second, he wondered if Jan had come here to fire Pam, or perhaps discuss the firing of someone else. But that was insane. Pam, to the best of his knowledge, could never do something worth getting sacked. And why would Jan be discussing redundancies with Pam, and not Michael?
Just then, he saw Michael slink out of his office quietly. He looked as if he had stepped out of a "Pink Panther" film as he ridiculously crept toward the conference room. Knowing that this was a bad idea, Jim almost protested, but his curiosity was just as strong, if not stronger, than Michael’s. Toby seemed to disagree.
"Michael, what are you doing?" he asked in his regular soft tone.
"Shut it, Toby," he whispered sharply. Rolling his eyes, Toby retreated to the break room.
With more agility than Jim ever thought Michael Scott could possess, Michael carefully reached for the door and carefully, cautiously turned the knob. Jim was amazed as he watched his boss crack open the door, and he was even more amazed that neither Pam nor Jan seemed to notice his presence.
But what surprised him the most was what was taking place behind the door.
"...not participating or interacting with your co-workers much," he heard Jan say.
Maybe she was here to fire Pam. The sympathy in her voice almost seemed like criticism as though she were delivering bad news did not comfort him.
"He says that you sneak in when you first come into the office, and that you slip out when it’s time to leave."
After Jan had finished speaking, he heard a wisping sound and assumed that Pam was whispering something inaudible.
"Yes" Jan continued. "Both he and Michael are very worried about you."
What? Michael’s eyes darted quickly around the office.
"After someone experiences a traumatic event, such as yourself, they often become depressed and introverted."Those last few sentences almost knock the wind out of Jim. For the first time since Jim could remember, he and Dwight both shared a mutual, yet baffled glance at each other. He was very aware that Stanley’s pencil had stopped scratching at his crossword puzzle, and he saw Toby through the break room window. Maybe Jim should tell Toby what Michael was doing, but he figured that Michael would just cause a scene.
"Pam, you’ve experienced something horrible. Something I can’t even imagine having to go through."
What in the hell? Did Pam have an accident? Had a friend of hers been in an accident? Shit. She probably lost someone. Most likely a family member. Jim’s head swirled with possibilities. Her mother. Her mother was probably in an accident, or dead. That last thought made him a little sick, because he used to know her so well. Had this happened a year ago, he wouldn’t be sitting here, wondering what Jan was talking about. If they were still friends (he may as well stop kidding himself , that they weren’t friends anymore), he would have been the first to know.
Jim was so busy sorting this all out in his own head that he missed more of Jan and Pam’s meeting.
"Here is the number of a good therapist," Jan was saying.
Is Pam having a mental breakdown?
"I highly recommend you visit with them. They could really help you, Pam. They specialize in – Michael!"
The loud banging of the door slamming brought him back to earth.
"Ouch!" Michael’s head snapped back and he had his hands clapped over his face. "My nose!"
Not long after that did Jan and Pam emerge from their meeting. Jan looked throughly pissed, while Pam was careful not meet anyone’s eyes. Much like a mouse, she skittered quickly behind her desk and didn’t bother to talk or look at anyone for the rest of the day. Before she sat down, Jim noticed that a small pamphlet was clutched between her fingers.
Trying to get back to work, Jim soon noticed that he couldn’t stop zoning out all afternoon. Even when he and Karen went to lunch, he only found himself half-listening to what she was saying. His mind kept drifting back as he tried to conjure any memories of Pam’s odd behavior that she had displayed for the last few weeks.
Sadly, he couldn’t think of anything. They didn’t talk anymore. He didn’t go up to her desk to eat jelly beans (although, now that he really thought about it, she had stopped putting them up a while ago). He even stopped asking her for messages because she would stick his messages on post-its notes on his files and leave them on his desk.
Maybe she had been acting a little strange lately.
That’s when it happened. He had a sudden memory fire into his brain. It had happened about two months ago. Pam had shyly approached his desk, twisting her hands together nervously. Jim had inwardly groaned. Ever since his run-in with Roy, she had been constantly trying to apologize. In the last month, however, she had stopped. Even so, he was getting tired of her not saying what she really wanted to say, and he was growing weary of pretending that everything was okay.
"Hey, Jim?" she asked in a small voice. "Can I talk to you about something?"
Jim ran a dry had over his mouth.
"Actually, Pam, I’m just getting ready to make a sales call? Can I we do this some other time?" He was aware that he sounded more formal, as well as a bit annoyed. He only glanced at her for a moment, but he could tell that she was a bit hurt.
"Oh, all right. Some other time." And with that, she had walked away.
She never did meet him later.
Looking back on that, he had felt horribly guilty. He wasn’t a bad guy, and he wasn’t trying to be cold to Pam, he just didn’t want to get hurt. Also, he was so, so worn down by all this shit.
Now, his guilt was making him physically ill. She had probably wanted to talk to him about her situation. She probably had just needed someone to talk to, and he had blown her off. A sudden desire to make things right flared raggedly inside of him.
She needed help, so he’d be a real friend, and help.
He waited after everyone had left. Pam was still behind her desk, and as she grabbed his bag, she stopped by reception.
"Goodnight, Pam."
She didn’t even look up.
"‘Night."
Upon gazing at her, he noticed that she was paler than he remembered, and that her blouse fit loosely on her body. Her face looked a little gaunter as well. Before he could stop himself, he said her name.
With that, she jumped up and practically ran for the door, his fingers brushed her for an instant, but she didn’t stop. She had left him bewildered and alone. After about fifteen minutes, he sat in Pam’s chair, just imagining what had happened to her. Only then, did he receive a phone call from Karen asking him where the hell he was.
***
He still has Pam’s number in his cell phone. He’s not sure why, he just never had the heart to remove it. He’s grateful that Karen has never asked to make a call on his phone. Now, he sits, with his finger hoovering over the "send" button with her number displayed on the screen. Karen left about an hour ago, claiming that he had looked sick. So here he is, waiting to make the call.
This can be done. He can be a friend and check up on her. It’s only 9:30. She’s still probably up. He can do this.
Jim chickens out and turns off his cell.
***
"Nice place you have here," he says as he sits her groceries down on the counter.
"Thanks," she replies as she turns on the light next to her apartment door.
He looks more nervous now that he’s inside of her place. It’s hard to ignore the way his eyes dart around the room. Almost immediately, that same horrible feeling returns, and she debates to just spin around and leave. She is just about to do that when he smiles at her, and then she feels guilty again for being so short with him earlier.
"Yeah, it’s nice," he repeats.
He moves behind her. Relief floods throughout her body as he makes his way for the door. Turning her body back towards her groceries, she almost scolds herself for being so paranoid.
"It’s real, real . . . nice."
The relief she had felt before vanishes as the lights of her apartment go out
Something sharp digs into her back, and she knows – she knows– that she is in trouble. Her insides become frozen, and she has no idea what to do. Her first instinct is to scream, but the man inside of her apartment also seems to know what she was thinking.
"Don’t scream and don’t move," he says softly. He presses the knife further into her back.
What happens next is a blur, but she soon finds herself crashing into her fridge. Then, his large hands grip the back of her neck roughly. He pulls on her hair, and she can’t help but scream a little.
"Shit," he whispers. She’s on her back now, and she can see his silhouette hoovering over her. "I told you not to move. Don’t run away again!" His voice is hushed, but still dangerous.
She now feels his hand cover her mouth as he pins her down with his knee. The next moment, something cold and sharp is pushing into the skin of her throat.
"Now," he begins, "I promise I won’t hurt you."
She knows this is a lie.
"Just don’t scream, and I won’t hurt you. So just shut up."
She hears the metal of his belt clinking together, and that is when she feels hot tears dripping down the sides of her face.
It’s only when she wakes up, the pillows of her couch soaking wet, that Pam feels that the warm wetness on her cheeks are just as real as the dream that had woken her up.
To be continued . . .
