She found them during her first round of Spring Cleaning in the new house. It was a tradition her mother had instilled while she was growing up; the first Sunday of April dedicated to thoroughly scrubbing, dusting, and more recently, Swiffering every inch of the house. So Pam pulled on one of her painting t-shirts and the yoga pants that were rarely used for yoga, shooed Jim out of the house and began to deep clean. This time around was particularly important because it wasn’t her old childhood bedroom, it wasn’t her college dorm, it wasn’t her first house with Roy, and it wasn’t her bachelorette pad. It was her house with Jim, and it deserved every ounce of cleaning drive she had in her to make it look as wonderful as it made her feel.
It was when she crawled on the floor to dust underneath the bed that she noticed an old Converse high-top shoebox she didn’t recognize. She then assumed it must belong to Jim, and while she would normally never snoop through his things, curiosity began to get the best of her. Pam justified to herself that it could contain things that desperately needed cleaning and before she could think twice, she lifted off the lid to reveal its contents.
Baseball cards. It was as though she had opened up a portal into Jim’s past and was seeing a glimpse of an 11-year-old boy, with the same grin and floppy hair topped with a Phillie’s cap. She couldn’t begin to count how many were in there, but the careful condition in which they were kept was enough for her to see just how much they meant to him. She jumped slightly as she heard Jim come in through the front door, and ran to meet him in the living room.
He raised his hands innocently. “I’m leaving, I promise. Just thought I’d get the dog out of your hair.”
She smiled. “Thanks but—“ she brought the box out from behind her back. “Look what I found.”
Jim rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Damn. The secret is out. Jim Halpert is a dork.”
“That was never a secret,” Pam said with a smile moving towards him and slipping an arm around his wait.
“I’m not sure you’re at liberty to be a smartass when you’ve been going through my personal property.”
“I’m sorry. But all kidding aside, I had no idea you collected these.”
Jim shrugged. “Just something my dad got me into when I was a kid.” He took the box from her and started to pull cards. “See this one? Took me forever to track it down and I finally found it at a pawn shop Des Moines.”
“Des Moines?” Pam asked with a laugh. “When were you in Des Moines?”
“I went on a road trip after high school graduation. Three guys, a station wagon, and a couple hundred bucks: those were some good times. Anyway, I just can’t bring myself to part with them. And there’s this one—forget it,” Jim closed the lid and shook his head.
Pam frowned. “No, what is it?”
“Well, there’s this one card that I’ve looked for everywhere: Yogi Berra’s rookie card. I gave up a while ago, which is why these guys,” he shook the box gently “are stuck underneath our bed. Though thanks to you, they now have a clean home on a spotless floor,” he winked.
She forced a smile but deep down ached at the thought of him searching for something for so long only to give up. Jim rarely gave up on something he set his mind to; she knew that all too well. And as he kissed her temple and gave the house back to her, she made it her mission to continue his search.
It started off innocently enough. She’d stop in local pawnshops on her weekend errands, perusing through the glass cases in hopes of stumbling onto a miracle. Then it started to nag at the back of her mind, creeping into her thoughts at work till it was at the very forefront of her mind. She abandoned Sudoku for eBay, Free Cell for Craigslist. It was on a particularly aggravating Monday that Pam began to enlist the help of others.
When she knew Jim would be distracted, she sought out Oscar in hopes that he would offer a solution she hadn’t yet thought. When he was no help, she even turned to Kevin, who mistook her for wanting playing cards, and offered the name of a man who manufactured “specialty” ones geared toward men.
Pam was racking her brain over a cup of tea in the break room when a voice behind her broke her concentration.
“I hear that you may be in need of assistance,” Dwight said in a low voice, his body turned toward the vending machine.
“I’m sorry?” Pam shook her head in confusion.
“With a certain baseball card,” he whispered, slowly dropping in coins one by one.
She straightened up in attention. “Do you know where it is?”
“I might,” Dwight murmured, cracking open his soda with a loud hiss. “I might not.”
Pam stood and gave a menacing glare. “Dwight, I do not have time for this. You need to tell me where I can find it. Please,” she softened with a pleading voice.
Dwight took a large slurp from his soda. “Well, well, well. The tables have certainly turned. My enemy’s closest ally is seeking me out for help.
“You came to me, Dwight.”
His face twisted into anger, but then turned into a sickly grin as he shrugged. “Fine, obviously it is not of that much importance if you’re willing to mock the person who has what you’re looking for.”
Pam’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean you have it?”
“One of the copious amount of things gathered in my father’s inheritance. He indulged in the frivolity of American sports from time to time.”
She felt a little revolted that it had come to this, asking Dwight of all people for help. However, perhaps this was karma’s payback for all the torment she and Jim had put him through over the years. She could spare a little pride if it meant doing something good for Jim, after all he’d done for her.
“Dwight, I’ve got to get that card. Name your price.”
“Oh Pamela,” he began. “How does one put a price on what you and your significant other have done to me? How does one begin to pay me back for countless ruined staplers, computer software, and most importantly, my dignity?”
“Dwight—“
“I’m just not sure I’m going to be able to help—“
“Good afternoon, Dwight,” Angela tersely interjected, her presence startling them both.
Dwight looked between the two women. “Good afternoon, Angela.”
“I couldn’t help but overhearing…you have something that may be of use to Pam?”
Pam began to interrupt, but Angela quickly shot her a look of warning.
“I might, however given her past record of malfeasance, I’m not sure—“
“Dwight, I think you should put petty differences aside,” she said sternly, giving a look of such ferocity, Pam was glad it was not directed at her. Then suddenly it dawned on her, why Angela was so quickly coming to her rescue. She bit back a smile, and focused her attention the tile floor.
Dwight began to protest but wavered under Angela’s intense stare. “Pam, if you would come by the farm later, I…will give you the card,” he choked out.
Pam merely nodded and watched as Dwight stormed out of the break room. Angela began to follow when Pam stopped her.
“Hey,” she said gently. “Thank you.”
Angela looked over her shoulder. “There will be no need to mention it.” She scurried quickly out the door, her tight ponytail whipping behind her.
xxx
Pam nearly bounded through the front door later that evening, hardly able to contain her excitement.
“Hi!” she exclaimed happily, finding Jim already settled in more comfortable clothes and lounging on the couch.
“Hey. How was your mysterious errand that you so anxiously had to leave work for?” he eyed her suspiciously.
She leapt onto the couch next to him, her purse still clutched in her hand. “I have something for you.”
Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really now? It’s not in the little pink bag my surprises usually come in.”
“No, I think you might actually enjoy this more.”
“That’s saying a lot, Beesly. I don’t---oh my God.” He exclaimed as she presented the card to him. He looked between her and the card, his jaw hung open in his inability to form words.
“You like?” Pam beamed and was quickly answered as he enveloped her in a long kiss.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’” she breathed as he pulled away.
“I can’t believe you…I just…have I said ‘thank you’ yet?” Jim said, his shock still inhibiting his coherency.
“Technically no, but I’m pretty sure that kiss will suffice.”
“Well there will be many more ‘thank yous’ later, I guarantee,” he said, laughing and shaking his head in amazement. “Do you realize what this means?”
“No, what does this mean?” she grinned, seeing more and more of the 11-year-old Jim radiating from his smile.
“You complete me.”
“Oh, Halpert,” Pam said with a grimace. “Tom Cruise? Really?”
“I don’t even want to hear it. I know you cried at ‘Jerry Maguire.’”
“Shut up,” she said, grabbing him by the t-shirt and pulling him towards her for another kiss.
“Wait, no. This is wrong,” he said, pulling away from her. “Yogi can’t see this.”
He took the card and moved toward the bedroom. “I’m just going to put him with the others. Then, I don’t know, we can start our reenactment of ‘Risky Business’?” He made air quotes and wagged his eyebrows as he walked backwards.
Pam rolled her eyes.
“Such a dork,” she muttered under her breath, yet not being able to hide her smile as she jogged down the hallway after him.
Cliche by Wendy Blue
Author's Chapter Notes:
So really, I can't take any credit for main storyline of this chapter. That all goes to Cousin Mose for his brilliant stroke of genius. I just put the words on the virtual paper. And as always, thanks to Becky215 with whom I traded chapter drafts over the course of writing this thing.
Chapter End Notes:
Review, or else I'll send Tom Cruise over to jump on your couch ;)
