See, here's the thing about grape soda: I never really liked it in the first place. I know, I know that contradicts everything you ever thought you knew about me right? But let me just explain.

I mean, sure, it's all right every once in awhile when you're in the mood for something super sugary and sort of falsely-fruity flavored, but personally I think normal people usually stop drinking grape soda right around the time they start ordering extra shots in their coffee.

So, there. I admitted it. I've never really liked grape soda.

What I did like was the way Pam used to flip the little tab thingy on the top of the can back and forth while she teased me about my childlike taste buds. And what I loved was the way she'd try to steal sips from my can when she thought I wasn't looking.

But I guess that's getting ahead of myself a little bit. So let me tell you how it all began...

"Hey," he said softly.

"Oh. Hey, Jim," she responded, not looking over.

"So what are you doing up here? You know the party's down in the warehouse, right?" he said jokingly.

"I know, I'm coming, I just... Roy just..." she paused, giving him enough time to cross over to her and get a better look at her face.

"Hey, what is it? Did he hurt you?"

"No. No, never mind, it's stupid. I don't really want to talk about it," she said firmly.

"Okay." He paused for a minute, trying to figure out what to say next. He didn't really know her that well, but he could tell that something was really bothering her. If they knew each other better he probably would have pressed her more because it looked like she really needed to talk, but as it was, he didn't feel like he should pry. Instead he changed the subject. "So...what did you think of your first week? Should we start looking for a replacement yet?"

"Oh, um... I don't know. It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, Phyllis seems nice and, um... Toby's really sweet."

"Uh-huh. Toby's great."

"And I guess it's nice that Roy and I are working in the same place now, you know? We used to hardly ever see each other except at night."

"Oh, right, yeah. That must be nice."

"Yeah," she said, though from her tone, it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself that it really was nice to be around her fiancé more often. Jim wasn’t sure if he should be reading that much into it, all he knew was that clearly it was going to take more than just some polite chit-chat to cheer her up.

"So Pam, I think in all the excitement this week, I might not have remembered to introduce you to the high-class cuisine that is available right here in our break room."

"Oh really?" she asked, the skeptical look on her face unable to hide the fact that she was quickly perking up. "So what's on today's menu?" she asked with a glimmer of amusement in her voice, clearly preferring to joke with him, instead of talking about whatever had happened.

"Well... let me just check with the chef," Jim turned to the fridge and quickly surveyed its contents. "Yes? Yes? Well, okay then." he said into the fridge. He turned back to Pam, "He would like to recommend that you start yourself off with one of our classic appetizers: unclaimed yogurt with a perfectly reasonable expiration date, followed by a light salad consisting entirely of carrot sticks," Jim paused and his eyes widened dramatically, he stopped short of actually putting his hand over his mouth, but the gesture was implied by his tone as he continued, "Wait, wait, please forget that I just told you that, I wouldn't want our competition to find out the secret recipe." Pam giggled and he found himself a little transfixed by the way her eyes were beginning to light up. He'd only known her a week, but he honestly couldn't fathom how any man could be around this girl and not want to do everything in his power to make her laugh. "And finally," he continued, "since you are a first-time guest at Chez Miff, we are prepared to offer you a free entree, one of our most beloved and renowned dishes: half of a ham and cheese sandwich."

"Wow. Well, with an offer like that..."

"But wait, madam, I haven't even shown you the best part. Here at Chez Miff we are very proud of our vintage Italian wine collection--some of these bottles have been here for over two years! And we use only the finest grapes, from the finest vineyards." By this time Pam was giggling uncontrollably, but Jim tried his best to keep a straight face as he continued his bit, dramatically inserting some change into the machine and pulling out a can of grape soda--the closest thing to wine that the vending machine offered.

"So? What will it be madam?"

"Hm..." Pam couldn't help but grin as she pretended to ponder the question for a minute. "I think I'd like the house yogurt, and... yes, salad sounds good, but not too heavy on the carrots." Jim nodded seriously. "And of course, ham and cheese with whichever of your famed Italian wines you think would complement it best."

"Excellent choices, I will inform the chef and your meal will be here shortly," Jim concluded. Pam just looked at him and laughed.

So that was the beginning of the whole grape soda thing, and for quite awhile after that we would still call it Italian wine, but then one day it became inescapably connected with a very different kind of memory...