Saturday, December 22

Pam was barely awake when she sensed she was alone in bed. She opened her eyes and sat up, confused for a moment about what day it was. Jim was never the first out of bed. Never. She was rubbing her eyes and trying to get her bearings when he walked into the bedroom, a towel around his waist evidence of his recent shower.

“What time is it?” Pam asked. “Why are you up? It's Saturday, right?”

Jim returned to his place in bed next to her, the towel dropped unceremoniously to the floor as he slipped under the covers. “It is Saturday,” he said, pulling her down into his arms. “And it's just before nine. I didn't wake you, did I?”

“I don't know,” she answered truthfully, cuddling closer. “But I noticed you were gone."

Jim smiled as he kissed her forehead. “Miss me, did you?”

“Maybe,” she pouted, then tilted her face towards his, looking for another kiss. “But why are you already up?”

He obliged her by kissing her for a few moments before finally answering. “Mark's been on me for ignoring him lately, so I promised I'd go over and do some guy things with him today.”

“Guy things?”

“Yeah, you know – things he and I used to do before I got saddled with such a demanding girlfriend.”

“Oh, like stand around staring at the engine of Mark's car and pretend you even know what you're looking at?”

“Exactly,” Jim laughed. “And then maybe shoot some hoops after that.”

“Well you have a good time with that,” she smiled, rolling her eyes.

“You don't mind, do you?” He asked, looking serious. “You said Parma was coming over later so I thought it would work okay to go over today.”

“Of course it's okay,” Pam said, a bit surprised at his question. “You don't need my permission to hang out with your friends. I'm not really that demanding, am I?”

Jim chuckled and leaned down to kiss her neck and shoulders. “Not in that way, no.”

She ran her hands along his back as he moved even closer. “In what way then?” she asked.

“In the way that makes me feel like I'm going to be running late this morning,” he replied.

Jim was right. By the time he actually left for Mark's it was much closer to lunch than breakfast. Pam encouraged him to spend the afternoon with his friend, and to call her for a ride back if their drinking got out of hand.

“I think I gave up afternoon drinking shortly after I left college,” he replied as he slipped his coat on. “It's more likely I'll need a ride because I pulled something playing basketball.”

“Okay, gramps, whatever then.” Pam grinned and kissed him goodbye. “Just be careful. Christmas is in three days and I need you healthy.”

Pam has showered and changed into some old sweats by the time Parma called to say she was on her way. When she walked through Pam's door, it was clear she wasn't kidding about bringing dresses for Pam to try on. She had four hangers in one hand, and had to go back for four more, plus a large black tote bag.

"I'm not going to the prom, Parma," Pam complained good-naturedly. "It's just for New Year's."

"No reason you can't look your best, PJ."

Pam cringed slightly at the nickname. Ever since she'd made the mistake of telling her friend that she'd grown up with her mother calling her PJ - because of her name of Pamela Jane - Parma thought it was beyond amusing to call her the very same thing. It's not that she minded it so much, but she knew that eventually Jim would discover this little nickname. And once he found out, he would no doubt tease her mercilessly with it forever. She reminder herself to have a chat with Jim's mom to find some dirt on him in case it ever came to that. She knew if she asked, Mrs. Halpert would be more than happy to come up with something - on their last visit she pulled out the baby photos for Pam while Jim sat in the corner complaining in embarrassment. But he certainly had been an adorable baby, even if his ears were a bit big even back then.

"Earth to PJ," Parma said, waving her hand in front of Pam's face.

"Sorry," Pam replied. "Just thinking. Where do we start?"

Parma separated her selections first in length and then into color. Two dresses Pam rejected immediately because they were too long for her liking. "Again, let me remind you that this isn't prom," she said, placing the rejected dresses on the chair nearest the door.

"Fine," Parma sighed. "But you are passing up the opportunity to be fabulous."

"And you are starting to sound more and more like Kelly Kapoor," Pam teased.

Parma looked at her in mock horror. "Oh, that is SO uncalled for," Parma replied. "Take that back right now."

Pam laughed. "Well, you did grow up next door to her,"

Parma put her hands on her hips and glared at her. "Take it back. Take it back or I'll tell Jim about that lingerie buying spree you went on in January."

"Well he's seen all the purchases, so it's not going to be that much of a surprise," Pam retorted.

"Yeah, but did he see what you passing off as underwear before that? I have photos of granny pants that can be mailed to him anonymously."

"Shut up!" Pam laughed. "You wouldn't!"

"Hell yeah," Parma grinned. "Remember that weekend last November when I stayed over because you were upset about Jim and what's-her-name but were too proud to admit you were upset?"

"Yeah..."

"And we did all that girly stuff like mud masks and pedicures?"

"Yep..." Pam didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"Well, as I recall, pictures were taken. That's all I'm going to say."

They grimaced at each other for moment before Pam broke out laughing. "Fine. I take it back. Kelly Kapoor has nothing on you."

"Thank you." Parma nodded graciously. "Now try this red one on first."

Pam tried on the first four dresses, but none of them pleased her. If the bodice fit nicely the skirt was still too long, or if the skirt was flattering there was too much cleavage showing.

"Honey, there is no such thing as too much cleavage. It's not like he hasn't seen it already."

"Yeah, but I don't want to spend the night worrying I'll pull a Tara Reid," she replied. "Or was that Lindsay Lohan?"

"I'm sure they've both done it many times," Parma sighed. "At least you'll have enough sense to wear underwear."

Parma laid the last two dresses on Pam's bed. One was black, with patterns of spangles along the neckline that made it much dressier than it first appeared. The second was a red one, but so much different from the first red one Parma had shown her that it immediately caught Pam's attention. It was a darker red, with an uneven hemline and a overlay of sheer black netting with silver embellisments. When she tried it on, she discovered that the underdress was actually fuschia, and wondered if she'd ever worn anything that bright before. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to admit that at least she didn't look like an escapee from a bridal party.

"Oh, that is SO it," Parma enthused as she had Pam twirl around for her. "That's the dress."

"It is nice," Pam replied, running her fingers over the silver stitching. "But it's a bit extravagant, don't you think?"

"It's the start of a new year, PJ," Parma urged. "Be extravagant. Think of Jim's reaction when he sees you in that."

"But I don't have any shoes to match."

Parma made a dismissive sound. "We can work that out next week. You are so wearing that dress."

Pam looked at herself in the mirror again, and had to admit it was quite a lovely dress. "Okay," she smiled. "You win."

"Me? I think you're the one who's going to be winning in that outfit," Parma replied. "I'm just doing my job."

Pam looked over her shoulder at her friend as she slipped out of the dress. "And what job is that?"

Pama began putting the other dresses back on hangers. "Oh you know," she shrugged. "Just helping you out. My job as your friend."

Pam pulled her sweats back on and sat down on the bed. "That reminds me," she mused. "Just what do you and Jim having going on?"

Parma glanced up, surprised. "What? Nothing! We don't have anything going on."

"Really?" Pam smiled. "Then how did you get back into the holiday delivery business?"

Parma didn't answer, and instead picked up the remaining dresses and walked out of Pam's bedroom.

"Hey, you know I'm not going to let you leave until you answer me," Pam called after her. There was still no reply so she darted into the living room. "Parma?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to plead the fifth on that one," Parma finally said, as she opened up her black tote bag. "And speaking of, this is for you."

She dropped a padded envelope gently on Pam's coffee table. "Isn't it fun to get little surprises though?"

"It is," Pam agreed, picking up the envelope and hugging it to her chest. "I'm just not sure where this is all going. I mean, last year at least he knew the theme."

"There's been no rhyme or reason to these then?"

Pam tilted her head. "Well, yeah - he seems to be doing a year in review."

"Well that's certainly a theme then."

"I know. It's just, well - " Pam sighed and sat down on the couch. "Well, he's been so weird about it. I purposely kept silent last year, so he couldn't be absolutely sure it was me until the end. But I know these are from Jim because he signs the letters! But if I start to talk about them, he changes the subject."

Parma shrugged. "He's a guy. Maybe writing things down and talking out loud about them are just two different things. I think it's certainly easier to tell a person something in a letter than face-to-face."

"True," Pam nodded. "But are you guys planning some big payoff at the end of all these letters?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Parma replied matter-of-factly. "And that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

Pam watched as her friend gathered up the rejected dresses and prepared to leave. "You do know what he's planning, don't you?" She asked.

"No idea," Parma repeated. "In fact I know so little about the whole thing that I don't even know whether or not he's even planning anything at all. Maybe it's just meant to be love letters, Pam. I think the letters alone are a very sweet idea."

"I do too," Pam agreed quietly.

It was less than a minute from the time she waved goodbye to her friend to the time she sat down in front of the coffee table and opened the latest envelope. She pulled out the contents and placed them in front of her. There were movie ticket stubs, a receipt from a toll booth, a folded piece of paper and a swizzle stick. There was also a flat rectangular package with a note to "open after letter" attached to it, and a flattened lid of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. And of course, the ivory enveloped. It felt slightly thicker than the last one, and carefully but eagerly slit open the envelope and began to read.

Dear Pam,

I suppose by this point it you can guess what this letter is going to be about. Maybe if you weren't so educated on the idea of time you wouldn't expect March to follow February, but your cleverness is one of the things I love about you. I just wonder if you'll remember everything I do about that month.

The saying is that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. I'm not sure it's entirely true, but we did start off the month in an interesting way We had our first taste of Dunder Mifflin corporate life that month when Michael made me attend the dinner party at David Wallace's house. You really didn't think I was going to subject myself to that scenario without you right beside me to keep me sane? I mean there were way too many egos in under one roof, and without our guessing game of who outranked who it would have been even more awkward than it was. Maybe less awkward if Michael hadn't been there. I almost felt sorry for Jan that night, except as you so rightly reminded me - she was in that relationship willingly. I guess she gets what she deserves in that case.

Besides being proud to show you off - yes, in case you hadn't already figured it out, I'm only with you because of your high value as eye candy. Hope you don't mind. I'm sure you get the same benefits from me. (Quit laughing, Beesly!!!) Anyway, besides the highlight of just being with you, the evening turned out not to be a total loss. I mean, how cool was it to discover that the host of the whole thing turned out to be a normal guy? Slipping out of the house to go shoot hoops with him was NOT the way I expected the night to go. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that you didn't want to be left alone in the house, but thanks anyway for sneaking out with us. Of course, I didn't realize until that night how naturally cheerleading came to you. *grin*

At least I made it up to you by taking you to see Amazing Grace - even if I never did buy your story of wanting to see it for the historical background. I saw the way you looked at Ioan Gruffudd in the previews. (What kind of name is that anyway?) And yeah - it was an okay film, I guess. But still not as great as 300 was, no matter what you say. At least we both agree that Zodiac rocked. Have I thanked you lately for not insisting we go to every chick movie every made?? I knew I had found the right girl when you turned your nose up at seeing that Molly Shannon movie, even though you knew Alan Cummings was in it. You did drag me to see Blades of Glory, though - so maybe that balances everything out.

That month the weather was pretty grim as I recall, so I guess that's why we ended up spending so much time in the movie theater. It was also probably why you ended up sick for your own birthday. Not that I had planned much for it - just a night of eating out at the most expensive restaurant in Scranton, and then going to that piano bar you'd been talking about for weeks. Oh, and the hotel room I'd reserved since I knew we'd probably not be in driving condition. So yeah, not much. So no need to still feel guilty about that. What happened instead involved a lot of Puffs Plus and won ton soup, as I recall. Oh, and the ice cream hunt. If I live to 100, I'll never forget the ice cream hunt.

It started, as I'm sure you remember, as we were watching The Colbert Report over the exciting won ton soup birthday dinner, right there in your living room. You mentioned how Ben & Jerry's had made an ice cream in Colbert's honor, and we agreed that was pretty cool. Then before the closing credits had even finished, you looked at me, sniffling from under your blanket, and asked if we could go out and get some of that ice cream. Even if it hadn't been your birthday, how could I have resisted that look?

So we faced freezing weather and falling snow, and went in search of the ice cream. First we hit Price Chopper (or should I say *I* hit Price Chopper while you stayed curled up under your blanket in my car, heater on full blast) - no luck. Then we went to Giant, and then another Price Chopper. The stock guy at Giant hadn't even heard of it. So we blamed it on the misfortune of living in Scranton and drove to Wilkes Barre to see if we could find it. You looked so disappointed when nowhere in Wilkes Barre had it that I felt I had to make it my personal mission to find some for you.

I might have given up a little sooner had I realized it had only been released to the public like two weeks earlier - and therefore almost NO ONE had it! I found that out when I finally located a store that carried it. A store just north of Philadelphia, if you remember. At least you were able to sleep the whole trip! Although you looked so delighted and grateful when I finally brought a pint of it to the car (and had remembered to buy plastic spoons as well), I knew it had been worth all the effort. The only downside was that by the time the weekend hit, I was suffering from your cold. So thanks for that. Really. (I know - you did take care of me pretty well when it was my turn to sneeze and sniffle.)

But I suppose the biggest thing that happened to us in March was something neither of us expected, and it certainly put our relationship to the test. It's still folded up all accordion style, so you might not have realized what it was, but if you look closely at the objects I've enclosed with this letter you'll find the instructions from the test kit. Yep, that test. You'd practically thrown the box at me when you slammed the bathroom door to take the test, and I put the box and instruction leaflet on your dresser as I nervously awaited the results. It wasn't until three or four days later I noticed it was still there, and while I threw the box away, I couldn't quite let go of the instructions. I don't know why; it just seemed like something to hold on to. It was the first pregnancy scare I'd actually be part of, and by that point things between us were good again. You don't know have to stay it - I know I'm weird. (But I hear you saying it anyway.)

Pam put the letter down and looked at the items spread across the coffee table. Sure enough, the blue and white leaflet was there, still tightly creased and folded. She picked it up, aware of the slight tremble in her hand as the emotions of that time washed over her in remembrance. She ran her thumb over the paper, but didn't open it up. She didn't need to. She shook her head, amazed. She'd known for a long time what a sentimental pack rat Jim could be, but this topped it all. She glanced up toward the front door, wishing for all the world that he would walk through it, but she knew he was still planning to be gone for a few hours yet. She turned back to read the rest of this letter.

I still feel as I did then - that a pregnancy would not have been the end of the world. There's nothing more certain in my mind than the fact that you and I are in this for the long term. But given that had you actually been pregnant then, the baby would have recently arrived, I will say that not having to share you with anyone else right now makes me very happy. So I guess things worked out as they should have.

And it wasn't anyone's fault, although I know you blamed yourself. I had no idea antibiotics could mess with birth control pill effectiveness, so I don't agree that you should have known. And as I said back then - even if you did know that at some point, it had been a while since you needed to worry about things like that. (and frankly I'm glad it had been!)

The hardest part of all of it wasn't the enormity of the idea of you being pregnant. It was how easy it was to fall back into old habits and not talk to each other. I knew something was wrong when you made excuses two days in a row not to come to my apartment, and on the second day you didn't even want me coming to yours. That's why I showed up so early that Saturday.

It took everything I had not to show up the night before – I was so worried that I had done some thing wrong and you were angry with me that your confession you thought you were pregnant initially seemed like good news in comparison. That's why my initial reaction was to a laugh. Unfortunately it was bad time to laugh, and our interaction sort of went downhill from there, didn't it? You thought I wasn't taking it seriously and I couldn't seem to convince you otherwise. When I asked if you'd taken a test to confirm your suspicions you acted as if I thought you were making the whole thing up.

Remember how it took me an hour to coax you out of your bedroom to talk to me, where you then finally confessed you were too scared to take one? You admitted that you hadn't taken a pregnancy test. You wanted to know but you didn't want to know. You didn't want to risk anyone seeing you getting one, you said. But I knew you wouldn't be able to calm down until you found out either way, so I fixed you some tea and went out to buy one. The fact that I went to Rite Aid on my own and purchased a pregnancy test kit is a testament to the lengths I'd go for you, Pamela Jane Beesly. I remember throwing in a pack of Trident and a KitKat bar with the purchase, as if somehow it made me look more casual. But who looks relaxed buying a pregnancy kit? Especially after standing in the aisle for what feels like hours trying to figure out which was the best one to buy. I kept trying to look like I really knew what I was doing, because the last thing I wanted was a salesperson coming up to me and asking if I needed help. I'm sure I failed miserably though, and had you been there to witness it all, I know you would have laughed.

But anyway, you know how this story plays out: you grabbed the box out of my hands as soon as I walked in the door, then ran to the bathroom. I wanted to give you your privacy, but I wanted to be with you too, and so I followed you only to have you give me the box (and the instructions) and close the door on me. I tried not to take it too personally.

When you walked out of the bathroom and you were crying, I honestly didn't know if I hoped they were tears of relief or not. Like I said before, it was probably for the best that you weren't pregnant, but when faced with the possibility, I was surprised by how much I was kind of hoping you were. I don't think I ever told you that before, but it's true. I know that's selfish of me, but there you are.

At least some good came out of that weekend. (Besides learning to use extra protection if you are on antibiotics!) Once the weight of the worry passed, we were able to talk about how you felt and why you didn't want to tell me at first. I still adhere to that promise we made to not clam up or shut the other person out when something's wrong. Your confession that it was hard to be so open when you'd never been that way with anyone before made me angry, in the way that only Roy Anderson can bring out in me. I hope since then you've found it easier to talk to me when you need support. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Pam, and I hope you really know that. You are never alone, and no matter what happens in the future, I promise I will always be there for you. It really is just that simple.

I think I'll leave March at that, and tell you to open the gift now. I think enough time has gone by that you'll find it funny. At least I hope to God you do.

Love,
Jim

Letter finished, Pam was torn between opening the gift Jim encouraged her to now look at, or to open the tiny wrapped square that had been stuck in the letter's envelope. Having more confidence in what the smaller gift was, she opened that one first. It was, as suspected, another silver charm. This one was a miniature ice cream cone, with tiny multi-colored gemstones dotting the ice cream portion and glimmering in the early afternoon sunlight that poured in through the window. She wondered if investing in a few nice silver chains would be a good idea, as her current necklace was already getting a bit crowded.

Pam set the charm down on the table gently and reached for the other gift in the now-familiar red and white striped paper. She was tempted to wait until Jim came home, but though perhaps she should open it now. What if it wasn't as funny a gift as Jim hoped? If she looked at it now, she'd have time to think of a suitable response by the time he arrived back. She could tell it was a dvd, and as she slipped her finger under the tape to open it, ran through what possible movie it could be. She groaned as if she'd heard a very bad joke when Judd Apatow's comedy Knocked Up slipped from the paper and onto the table.

She shook her head, a smile finally breaking through. What a dork, she thought. Only he could make her laugh over what had been her one of her most traumatic experiences to date. She ripped off the plastic wrap around the box and stuck the dvd in the player, knowing exactly what she would suggest they do when he returned.