Jim was at work early on Tuesday. He wanted to be settled at his desk when Pam came in, prepared to see her. And hopefully, to be able to somehow let her know at least, at the very least, about Karen.
Pam was earlier. He actually stopped momentarily in his tracks on his way in the office, but covered quickly. He didn't look her full in the face yet, and it wasn't even necessary, just as always. He could feel her from past the reception desk and all the way over to his.
Exhaustion. Sadness. Resignation. Hollowness.
He turned on his computer, set his bag under his desk, and settled into his chair while his monitor buzzed to life. And couldn't wait one more minute; he turned his chair to look at her.
She was staring at her monitor as well, typing, concentrating. Her skin was nearly translucent, and her cheeks actually looked considerably more gaunt than they had just a couple of days before. Has she eaten anything since?
He watched her for a long moment; he knew well that she could feel it. She could see, even, that he was staring at her. But she resolutely refused to look at him.
Finally he spun his chair back around. Coward. You could go right up there, speak to her right now. He thought about that.
Later.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To: Angela Martin
From: Pamela Beesly
Angela,
Where is Karen today?
Pam
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Pamela Beesly
From: Angela Martin
I have no idea. God help me if I made it my business to keep track of everyone's sick days in this office. Suffice it to say: SOME of us get sick quite frequently.
Angela
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To: Stanley Hudson
From: Pamela Beesly
Hi Stanley,
Where is Karen today?
Pam
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Pamela Beesly
From: Stanley Hudson
She quit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Stanley Hudson
From: Pamela Beesly
Why? Do you know?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Pamela Beesly
From: Stanley Hudson
I have no idea, and I have work to do . Thank you.
Stanley
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Toby Flenderson
From: Pamela Beesly
Hi Toby,
Why did Karen quit?
Pam
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Pamela Beesly
From: Toby Flenderson
Hi Pam,
She is taking some accumulated vacation days, then Jan is reassigning her. That's really all I can tell you, for confidentiality purposes. I'm sorry, Pam.
Toby
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I'm not that desperate.
Yes, I am.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
To: Michael Scott
From: Pamela Beesly
Michael,
Why did Karen quit?
Pam
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pam knew it was going to take awhile. Michael was at his desk, on his computer, probably preparing some appalling presentation for Ryan's business school class that afternoon. Or, perhaps checking some symptoms on Web MD. It's about time for him to come down with something again. He wasn't always very consistent about checking his email when he was playing on his computer.
She chanced a glance at Jim, finally grateful for his new desk, for him facing away from her. She noticed that he was working. He was actually....working. And he looked as if he were concentrating. But his shoulders were slumped and there was tension in them.
He doesn't want me anymore, but he doesn't want me to be with anyone else.
And just like that, just as if he were leaning over her desk, as in the days before: forearms slung over the counter, sleeves rolled up, leaning his long frame bent almost double to get as close to her ear as possible, she heard it. She actually heard his voice-- low, gravelly.
I do want you. I always have.
She paled, looked up. He had hardly moved-- there he was, sitting at his desk, still working. He had not left it to come to reception, he had not leaned over to speak in her ear.
And yet, she had actually heard his voice.
She bounded out of her chair, leaving the springs squeaking conspicuously. She nearly raced to the break room That's it-- I'm losing my mind to do something, anything: use the bathroom, splash water on her face, get a cup of tea. Sit at the table and pretend to read the paper, try to get the fragments of what was left of her mind put back together.
She settled on the ladies room. It would be a safe haven, from him.....but not from Kelly.
"Oh my God, Pam, you look horrible! Wow, I have some concealer in my purse for that complexion. Your circles are actually kinda pink.....weird. Hey, did you have a nice long weekend?"
"No....not really."
"Oh my God, how did I forget? That scene at the wedding was SOOOOO romantic. I swear it was like a movie, Pam. OhmyGod I would SOOOOO die to have two guys fighting over me. Weren't you just......."
"No, Kelly. They weren't fighting over me. Well, maybe Roy was, but not Jim."
"He so totally was! Haven't you heard about Karen?"
But the door of the restroom had already started to swing shut. She would use the bathroom later; it was time for a cup of tea after all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To: Pamela Beesly
From: Michael Scott
You know I am Jim's friend. Friends don't kiss and tell. OK, I would never kiss Jim, that's just......yuck. Geesh. Friends don't kiss and tell secondhand.
Michael
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Michael Scott
From: Pamela Beesly
Oh. I was just thinking that you, of all people, would be in the know about everything around here. I mean, you are a good boss--people confide in you and all.
Thanks anyway,
Pam
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To: Pamela Beesly
From: Michael Scott
Yes, people do confide in me. And since I'm so close to both of you, I will tell you this, but you can't let on that I told you. It's a secret.
Jim broke up with Karen this weekend. So she left. Now we're down to just Andy from Stamford.
Michael
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
She stared at the words for a long time, read them over and over, sneaking glances at the back of Jim's neck. The tension was still there. She let her glance skitter away before he felt it and turned in his chair.
Maybe it shouldn't, but this changes things.
Maybe he does want me after all.
Maybe I'm not completely crazy, yet.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jim grabbed his sack lunch and made his way to the break room. He hadn't been in the mood for pranks, and he hadn't been in the mood for sports chatter with Kevin and Toby, or reading the paper, or cruising the internet, even. So he had actually had one of the most productive work days he had experienced in a long, long time.
He sat, and he waited for Pam. She was a woman of routine, and ate her lunch at almost the same time every day, even though they all could choose their own lunch time.
He ate his sandwich; it was tasteless. When is food ever going to taste good again? He glanced at the paper, not even reading the words, but just skimming them for the basics and staring at the pictures and captions.
Finally he made up a reason to go back to his desk. She was still sitting at reception. It was time. He stopped at her desk, resting his hand on the counter.
"Hey," he greeted her softly "you're eating today, right?"
She was still quiet, still subdued. But that sense of hollowness seemed gone, at least. He didn't even try to hide that he was staring down at her.
"Yeah, I'm just going to eat at my desk. Making up for yesterday, and all that." She shuffled some papers on her desk, needlessly, Jim knew. "I have to leave a little early to get to my art show, so I'm working through lunch."
I'm giving nothing away there. I want to see it tonight-- I want to see her when she doesn't expect me. See through this facade she's putting up. "Find her in her artwork", as her mother said.
He wanted to lean down, to see if he could read a little more in that face that seemed just a little less pale than this morning, just a little more hopeful. He wanted to see if he could make her smile again, make her laugh. She's not ready for that, and neither am I. Not today, not yet.
Well, maybe just one smile. If I can coax it out.
"That reminds me of third grade." He smiled down at her, softly. She's not completely blowing me off, not yet. It's something.
She frowned a little, considering, and he imagined kissing that tiny worry line between her delicate brows.
Let's not go there, please. Focus, Halpert............
"What do you mean?" It's good to talk to him this way, it feels like me again. Like us.
"You remember, eating at your desk in school? Sometimes it was supposed to be a punishment, but we always secretly loved it." His smile turned to a grin as he felt her warm to him.
Her own smile started in her eyes, and finally reached her lips. He knew it was an honest smile, if a little fragile. "Isn't working here like third grade?"
"Absolutely. I mean, we have the uptight lunch lady....." Pam stifled a grin as Angela walked by, "the one that always piled the green beans in those little cups, but skimped on the tater tots." He smiled down at her, continuing. It felt good, it felt almost like old times.
"And we have the bumbling principal, the one all the teachers know secretly fell into the job because his father-in-law is on the school board. The one who is fairly good with kids because he's a big kid himself." She was nodding subtly, thinking of that.
"We don't have recess, though." She countered.
He tapped her desk. "No, but we have parties, lots of class parties. Sometimes even with cellophane-wrapped popcorn balls." She giggled. It was the best thing he had heard in a very long time, so he decided to go for it.
"And we have puppy love crushes, of course." She gasped, though very quietly. "And some that aren't just crushes." He smiled at her, tapped her desk a couple more times and went back to his.
That's enough, for today. I'll see her tonight.
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