He's awake earlier than he should be. He slowly packs his duffel bag, and takes his iPod and various other necessities out to his car. The sky over Scranton is still gray and dark as he picks her up at the motel she called him from last night. When she gets in, he notices the dark circles under her eyes and knows she hasn't been sleeping.
Last night, when he answered the phone, it had taken him a couple minutes to realize it was her. She was okay. She was in a seedy motel near the outskirts of Scranton. Through her tears, it had been hard to make out what she said exactly. Something about being sorry for calling him so late, that things with Roy were wrong, that she couldn't disappoint her family. She wanted to go somewhere, anywhere else. With you, she'd said. He did remember that. She had told him expressly she wanted to get the heck out of town with him. He hadn't said much, just let her talk, sniffle, and finally calm down enough so she could go to sleep.
But she hadn't slept. Neither had he. At three o'clock in the morning, he had powered his computer up, searching for a place to go.
She had told him on casino night that she had never been to a real casino. He hates Atlantic City, but thought Las Vegas, the desert, might be nice. He decides to go north instead. Canada. Niagara Falls.
She's quiet for the first hour, and he looks over, realizes she's finally fallen asleep. She's beautiful: her light lashes blend into her creamy skin, her small nose dotted with freckles, her pink lips are slightly parted. If he doesn't move, holds his breath, he can hear her breathing, even and slow.
When she stirs, starts to wake, they are passing through Kirkwood. The Corolla merges onto 81.
"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice still thick with sleep.
"I thought you said it didn't matter," he says lightly, and she catches his teasing tone.
"You're right. I did." She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She sits up, tucking one of her feet beneath her. "So I guess you want to know what happened."
"Only if you want to tell me," he replies, and he hopes he sounds sincere. She studies him for a second. He can feel her pale green eyes on his face, but then she nods, turning back to the window. "I brought tunes," he points to his iPod. "Or, check the glove compartment." She pulls out a notebook. "So if you feel like playing any games."
"Like MASH?" He hears the amused lilt in her voice and he's pleased that she's delighted by something so simple.
"I was thinking more along the lines of travel games, but that's fine, too."
She smiles. "You didn't have to do all this, Jim."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did." He clears his throat. "I think—the other night, it was out of the blue, and I shouldn't have said anything."
"But you did."
"If I could take it back—okay, maybe I'm glad I said it. I had to tell you before, if I had done it later..."
"I know." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I don't really want to talk about it right now. Okay?" He nods, and she sits there for a minute, staring at the notepad, at her hands, which are curled up into small fists.
He gazes out ahead of them, concentrates on driving. His hands are perfectly located at the ten and two position, his mirrors are all in the right places, his headlights work, he still has over half a tank of gas. After he goes through the checklist, he lets his eyes wander over to her again. She's opened the notebook, her hand poised over the page, but she's staring out the passenger side window.
***
As she gazes out the window, the scenery flickering past, she's not even taking in the details of the trees, or how the sky has the puffiest clouds right now, or even wondering what was in the big barn they just passed. These are the things she would normally observe. She would remember to sketch them later. But now her mind is too full—too full of what she really wants, of Jim, of Roy, of her family, of herself.
It surprises her to realize how little she takes herself into consideration when making decisions. She doesn't do anything for herself, not really. She caters to Roy, what he thinks, but why? She can't remember if this has always been the way with them or if things changed. They must have, because as she sorts through the major decisions in their life, it seems like she has always left them up to Roy. Buying a new truck, moving in together, all Roy's decisions. She remembers her mother's tone of voice every time she told her of these decisions. That tone was a good indication of whether she approved of what her daughter was or wasn't doing. She knew her mother tried to hide it, but by now, after almost 27 years, she knew what to listen for. When Roy had started doting on her, when they had dated in high school, her mom had been so happy and surprised. When he yet again failed to set a date for their wedding, she knew her mom had been a bit hesitant, the disappointment had been evident. When she talked about Jim, it had been all curiosity and pleasure.
She realizes this last bit with a sigh, a tingling in her extremities, as she tries her hardest not to glance over at him. She needs to call her mom. Even though it had been her decision, it had to be, some support and encouragement in the form of her mom is welcome.
"Can we stop? I'm hungry," she confesses. It’s a half truth because what she needs more is some privacy to place her call. Jim nods, pulling off at the next exit.
As they enter a diner, Pam blinks against the bright orange tables and the overabundance of neon on the outside of the building that reflects wildly off the windows. Jim chuckles behind her. Since they don't seem to have to wait to be seated, they pick out a table near the back. Their waitress, a middle-aged woman, steps over to take their drink orders. "Coffee?" she asks.
"I'm guessing you don't have frappucinos here," Jim teases. The woman does not look amused, and Pam has to choke back a laugh. "Coffee's fine," he says finally, clearing his throat.
"Same here," she nods. Once the woman disappears into the kitchen again, Pam lets out a giggle. "I thought she was going to throw you out."
Jim's eyes widen and he laughs. "Not exactly the small-town hospitality I expected." She can't help but notice how his long arms stretch out in front of him, almost reaching where her hands are placed on the table. He slides back as their waitress returns, filling up two coffee cups.
"Should I leave the pot?"
"Sure, that would be great." Jim replies.
The waitress pulls out her pad and simply stands there, waiting, until Jim realizes they are supposed to order. He nods at Pam to go first. "I want the silver dollar pancakes, please."
"Anything on 'em?"
"Do you have strawberries?" she ventures.
The waitress sighs, rolling her eyes. "Well, do you? She just asked you a question," Jim speaks up. The woman looks surprised by this, like she had never had someone return her rude attitude.
"They're frozen, not fresh," she finally murmurs.
"That's fine." Jim orders the same thing, except he adds a side of bacon. He rolls his eyes when the waitress leaves and Pam giggles again.
"You think it’s safe for me to leave you here by yourself? I need to make a call." She holds up her cell phone.
"Uh, yeah, that's fine." She starts to leave when she hears him speak up again. "You calling your mom?" She smiles in response as she passes him and heads back outside.
She dials home and someone picks up on the second ring. "Pam?" Her mom's voice floats over the line. "Is that you? I was so worried about you. I've been calling the house all morning."
A sense of security and comfort wash over her and she blinks back tears. "Yeah, it's me, mom."
***
Jim can see Pam outside the diner. She walks back and forth as she talks, but stays close to the door. The waitress returns with their food and when he looks back out at Pam, her shoulders are slumped, and he can tell she's crying. He takes a slug of his coffee and wonders if he gets up if the waitress will dump their food. He decides to risk it. They can always go to a drive-thru somewhere.
When he steps outside, she's leaning against the building, cell phone clenched in her fist, tears streaming down her face. She takes a deep, shuddering breath as he pulls her towards him. She wipes at her tears with her knuckles and his heart drops to his toes when he notices she's not wearing her ring. She seems to notice how still he is and she looks up at him, her eyes curious, but still puffy from crying. He shakes his head and squeezes her shoulder. "Your pancakes are getting cold," he finally says and opens the door for her.
The waitress gives them a strange look as they walk back to their table, and Jim is grateful their food is still there. She starts cutting up her pancakes, eating a strawberry or two as she does so. He pours some syrup onto his plate and dips a piece of bacon into it, just to make her flinch. "Mmm, high fructose corn syrup and pig fat. My two favorite food groups." He shoots her a sticky grin.
She manages a smile. "You are such a boy sometimes."
He finishes eating a little before her, but just sips on his coffee, letting her take her time. "If there were more people around, we could play 1, 2, 3."
She picks a strawberry off her plate and plops it in her mouth. "1, 2, 3?" She asks as she finishes chewing. He tries not to notice how cute she is when she eats. No one is cute when they eat.
"Yeah, 1, 2, 3, He's Yours. My sisters played it all the time."
"You have more than one sister?" She's surprised.
"Elizabeth and Margaret. Maggie. No one ever calls her Margaret."
"And then your brother, Robert. You're the baby," she grins and he knows she's picturing the picture from his high school yearbook. "Anyway, the game."
"Oh, right. You can take the first guy that walks by, or if you decide to pass, assuming there's somebody better out there, you can take the next guy that walks by, or if you don't take him, you're automatically stuck with the third guy."
"Oh, okay. Kind of like Who Would You Do except with random people on the street."
"Right. So I'll go to give you an example. My first choice," he motions to her. "You. Or I can pass you up, wait for a second choice." He points over his shoulder at the waitress. "Or I can risk it, wait for a third, but I can't go back to one or two. I think I'll stick with two. She's such a ray of sunshine." She laughs, trying not to choke on her food.
Their waitress doesn't seem in any hurry to take their plates or bring them the check, so Jim leaves a twenty and they climb back into the car.
"I can't believe you left her that much. You know our meal was like eight dollars."
Jim shrugs. "Maybe she'll be nice to us next time we come back."
"Next time?" she scoffs. "You won't even remember you were at this hole in the wall."
He's pretty sure he remembers everything he does with her.
***
She starts doodling in the notebook as they pull back out onto the interstate. Since it’s fresh in her mind, she sketches a quick outline of the diner, complete with two figures in one of the windows.
She turns the page quickly, wondering whether he saw. She starts to note the license plates around them, finding the typical ones first: New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut, Ohio, Michigan. She spots a couple Massachusetts, a Maine. She remembers that her family would go camping in Maine when she was little. They would pick blueberries; her dad would try and teach her how to fish. As she got older, she would spend hours outside with her watercolors and easel, trying to capture the color of the forest, of the water. There had been so much life there, in that little space she had secluded herself. It had been enthralling to think about how the rest of the world, the whole world, held places like that.
Once she wanted to travel to every continent. She wonders what happened to that.
"Did you ever go to Europe? You know, in college, it seemed like everyone went backpacking."
"No, not Europe. I actually went to South America."
"Really? Why?"
He shrugs. "I took Spanish, thought I might get along there better. My buddies thought it might be cheaper."
"Was it amazing?"
"It was pretty surreal. Of course no one's Spanish was up to par, but we got by. I saw a lot of ancient ruins, hiked through part of a rainforest, rode on a bus with some livestock. It was definitely an adventure. We were lucky to get a shower every three days or so. I can show you the pictures sometime."
"But you would do it again?" she asks eagerly.
He chuckles. "I would go back, yeah. I don't think I could handle the backpacking part again, though. I much prefer hotels."
"That's so exciting. I've never been…anywhere. Not even to visit the West Coast."
"I remember," he replies softly. "So where have you been?"
"St. Louis is the farthest west, I think. Canada the farthest north. I went to Disney World when I was younger. Never been to the Caribbean or Mexico. Maine. We went to Maine a lot, my family."
"It's beautiful there,” he nods.
Her skin prickles when she thinks of it. "Yeah, it is."
"So you want to travel?" He looked over at her, a smile emerging across his face. She loves that smile. It’s the I think you should totally do it, supportive smile.
"Someday. Sooner than someday." Someday had been her refrain for the past five years. Someday had become now. She couldn't keep saying it, letting her life pass her by. At almost twenty-seven, she didn't have the little house, the husband, or maybe the kid she thought she would have after saying 'someday' about for the past ten years.
A few minutes later, Jim turns on his iPod and Billy Joel's familiar voice floats out of the speakers: Vienna waits for you...
***
They continue listening to oldies as they make their way through upper New York. He catches her quietly singing along with an Eagles song and her cheeks turn pink, but he just smiles and starts signing along too. He listens as his low voice blends with her higher one. Although neither of them are outstanding singers, his ears buzz when their voices harmonize.
When Niagara Falls started to appear at the top of the roadside signs, Jim tries to distract her, keep her from figuring it out for a little longer. She plays along, naming off what states she has so far in the license plate game or who is singing the song on his iPod. When it gets within twenty, she finally asks again. "Are we going to Niagara Falls?"
"Um, maybe?" Jim tries to skirt the question.
"Well its either that or drive into the ocean and I really didn't envision this trip ending like Thelma and Louise."
"But Thelma and Louise was at the Grand Canyon."
"I just meant driving off things in general."
"Oh, no, there will be no ocean driving on this trip. How long have you known?"
"A couple hours. Pulling onto 90 was pretty obvious, but I didn't want to say anything."
"You haven't been here, have you?"
She shakes her head. "I always wanted to go on the Maid of the Mist, but Roy would never--" she stumbles to a stop, her eyes wide.
"It's okay." He waves it off.
"I'm sorry."
"Pam, come on. It's gonna happen. It's not a big deal."
Her head is bowed and she's picking at her nails. "I need to tell you."
"You need to tell me what happened?" he asks, confused for a moment.
"Yes," she practically whispers.
He sighs. "Can it wait? I know it's important. Believe me, I know. I just—I don't want the trip to start out this way."
"So when?"
"After we check in." He'd wanted to stay in an inn or a bed and breakfast, but the rates had been outrageous and he didn't want the trip to feel like it was a romantic getaway. The Ramada would have to do.
Pam bounces down on the bed gleefully as Jim stows his suitcase in the corner. "This isn't too bad--" His voice catches in his throat as he directs his gaze at her, or more precisely, what is underneath her.
"What?" she asks, baffled.
"Oh shit. The bed."
She finally notices. There's only one. "What are we going to do?"
He turns on his heel, heading for the door. "I know I asked for a double room," he mumbles. He lets the door shut behind him before she can reply.
He's trying to be so patient. Even if she tells him tonight that she left Roy, sleeping in the same bed as her may break him. Too much, too fast. He sighs, glad to be making the short trip to the front desk so he can get some air and clear his mind a little.
"Looks like we're out of luck." He shrugs as he returns to the room.
"I guess, if it's really that big a deal, I can get a room somewhere else," she mentions.
"Oh, well, I should do that. But that's not a bad idea."
"Jim." she sighs in an exasperated tone. "I was kidding. But you definitely know how to make a girl feel special."
"No, I didn't mean to—sorry, if I implied that—that's not it at all."
She squints her eyes at him. "Don't lie. You think I have cooties, don't you?" She can't help it, her face breaks into a smile.
He lets out a laugh. "Of course. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. I mean, this is your weekend, so let me know."
"You're sweet." He can feel himself blush and he steps over to the window so he can breathe again.
tbc...
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: All characters from The Office do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
