He walked into the office: exhausted, yet wired, ready to finally do something to get her attention...and she was not there.
Of course she's not here today.
Of course she's not sick. She is maybe broken, but not sick.
She had not returned any of his four messages the day before, each one more concerned than the last. And at 8:00 that evening- when he had finally determined that he was, indeed, absolutely pathetic and ridiculous- and had driven over there to knock on her door for 15 minutes- she had not answered.
She hadn't been there. He could feel that she was not even there.
And of course, Jim thought as Karen walked through the door, here was something to just make his day that much better.
I deserve her wrath. I deserve every bit of what she's about to dish out.
And of course here she comes, her coat is not even off , yet she is coming right over....
"I'm just here to tie up some loose ends and pack up my things." Jim looked carefully at her, at the hardness that she was trying to portray, though her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. "I've already spoken to Jan; she's letting me take my remaining vacation days this year and will reassign me after I come back."
"Karen......"
"So get on with it, Jim. I'm not going to be the one stopping you from going after her this time." And he knew he deserved her anger. "As if I ever were, when it comes down to it."
There was nothing to say to that, no answer that he could give that would begin to say how wrong he had been to involve her; how sorry he was. But he had to try. It was time to do things right, finally.
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To: Karen Fillipelli
From: Jim Halpert
Karen,
Involving you is the biggest regret I have in my life so far, and I mean that.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make up for much, if anything, but it's all I've got.
You're a great person, a great woman. I wish you the best, and for you...it's not me.
I know someday you will believe that too.
Jim
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She responded almost immediately.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Jim Halpert
From: Karen Fillipelli
Jim,
Gee, thanks. And I think I already do believe it, Jim....that you're not the best for me, being that you were in love with another woman all the time you were dating me, and all.
It's one day after you broke up with me, OK? You should expect some bitterness.
Good luck with Pam.
Karen
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He had not called her all that long, horrendous day. He texted no less than three times: "call me on my cell"; "thinking of you"; "how are you?"; and of course got no response. He emailed her home account with repeats of his text messages: call me. I want to talk to you. Please get in touch.
Nothing. He knew he was every bit as desperate as to drive over there and knock on her door again, but would not allow himself to do it.
A couple of times that day his dismay and confusion bubbled up into anger at her. She turned HIM down; she rejected HIM. She called off her wedding, and never let him know.
And then he'd remember Pam. It was Pam. Pam, for whom asking him out to coffee was her equivalent to him saying "I'm in love with you." He remembered her awkward flirting in the break room: "REM cycle". She was insecure and vulnerable, at best; why had he not considered that when she took even the smallest of steps toward him?
And that posture, her shoulders....he couldn't get the image of her folded over on herself in the grey sweater, in that brown satiny dress. In her pink coat, leaving with Roy.
I stopped her. It's enough, for now.
I hope it's still enough.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He was restless, uneasy that evening after work. He fixed dinner but only picked at it, throwing the rest down the disposal. He opened a beer but it turned his nearly empty stomach, so he dumped that down the sink as well. He turned on the TV only to stare at the screen unseeing, turning over every possibility in his mind, every avenue of perhaps opening up some line of communication with her.
He sat slumped over, elbows on his knees, fingers running sporatically through his hair. I'm so worried about her. And I need to talk to someone about her.
I can't bother Mark about her anymore. Plus, he's a married man now.....
My mom will just get frustrated with her. She never understood why Pam didn't love me right off the bat...that's just a mother.
....a mother.
I could contact Pam's mom. Mrs. Beesly. And tell her that I'm worried about Pam. And......just tell her. I could just tell her.....
Even as he dismissed the idea it had taken root. Even as he discredited it, he knew he was going to do it.
I've got nothing left to lose.
He poured a half of a glass full of whiskey- a leftover groomsman's gift for being in Mark's wedding the previous year.
Liquid courage. Just enough to take the edge off.
And he dialed information. "Yes, Bob Beesly............."
"I have no listing for a Bob Beesly."
I'm shaking just as badly as the first time I ever asked a girl out, and it's the information lady. This is a new low.
"OK, Robert Beesly?"
"One moment please."
Jim took the number down, trembling, relief washing over him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After a quarter of the glass of the whiskey was down, Jim picked up the phone, looked at the numbers as if trying to solve a complicated puzzle, and set the phone down again.
I'm a man grown. Pick up the damned phone, you pathetic fool.
So before he could change his mind, he picked it up, dialed the number, and focused intently on the speck of potato chip on his counter as it rang once, twice, three times......
"Hello?" It was her dad. It's not supposed to be her dad.
"Uh, yes. Is ummm....is Mrs. Beesly there?"
Jim could feel Pam's father's scowl down the phone line.
"Can I ask who's calling?"
"Yes, this is a friend of Pam's."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Who is it?" Diane mouthed.
Bob Beesly shrugged, and whispered back as he covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. "Says he's a friend of Pam's. NOT. ROY."
Inexplicably to Bob, Diane smiled widely, took the phone, and left the room.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Beesly? It's Jim Halpert......from Pam's work."
"Yes, hello Jim."
He paused long enough that he knew it had grown uncomfortable. "I, ummm. I was wondering if it would be alright with you if I sent you an email, Mrs. Beesly."
She smiled, but tried hard to make it sound like she wasn't smiling quite so hugely. "Yes, I think that would be OK."
"Oh. Oh, great....I just need your email address."
"Bob and I share an account." She could almost feel Jim furrow his brow, hear him tinkering with whatever glass he was holding. "But just put my name in the title, and I'll read it this evening. If that's what you were planning to do."
"Yes.....that would be great. Thanks....thanks so much."
She gave him her address and hung up the phone. She made herself sit next to her husband and watch TV for an hour, put her nightclothes on and washed her face, and began her new cross-stitch for a neighbor's baby before she went to the computer.
Diane Beesly was a woman of great restraint when she wanted to be. And sometimes, even when she didn't. She had waited nearly two hours to make her way to the computer in Bob's office. She thought there needed to be a special award for that kind of maternal patience.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali