Sunday, December 23 -

Sunday morning was nearly over by the time Pam finally got out of bed. Jim didn't follow until it was officially afternoon. The day before he had come home from Mark's by dinnertime, surprised by the delicious smells of an elaborate dinner Pam was just putting the finishing touches on. They enjoyed baked chicken and fettuccine by candlelight, using the plates Pam usually insisted were for “special occasions.” But when Jim asked what the special occasion was that evening, she smiled and insisted there wasn't one.

There wasn't a special occasion, at least not in Pam's mind. The dinner and the extra effort was all part of Pam's master plan. She had thought about what Parma had said about writing feelings being so much easier than saying them. She knew it was true, but she had sort of assumed that by this point anything Jim wanted to tell her would be easily shared. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe after all this time there was still a shred of discomfort, of even fear, of being so honest with her. If that was the case Pam decided that the best thing she could do was not pressure him to talk about the letters, but still find ways to show him how much she was loving them. Show him how much she was looking forward to the next one.

Because the truth was, Pam was getting addicted to the letters. In the time it took her to read a letter over a time or two, she was already wondering what the next letter would say. She wondered how far ahead he'd written them, and if they were hidden somewhere in their apartment, or if Parma already had all of them. They were like individual treasure chests, and she was greedy for more. She thought about what Jim must have gone through last year, having to wait each day for a new gift. He had confessed what a nice bit of excitement the twelve days gifts had put in his life, even if the idea that they might not have been from her hung over him like a dark cloud. At least she had no worries who these were from. That just left the enjoyment of the surprise. She had no doubt that's what he was trying to do for her. What he didn't realize, she thought, was that their past year together had already brought plenty of excitement into her life. These letters were just icing on an already rich and decadent cake. So all the more reason, in Pam's mind, to find ways to show her appreciation. And Saturday night's efforts had extended well into the early hours of Sunday.

It was mid afternoon before anything interrupted their quiet day together. They were sprawled out on the living room couch, Jim at one end paging through the sports section of the Sunday paper, Pam propped with pillows at the other with her feet in his lap and the textbook she's borrowed from the college library in her hands. She was taking an art history class next semester, and wanted to give herself a little bit of a head start. She had a strong preference for impressionism – Monet, Cassett, and Morisot among her favorite artists of the period. Flipping through the book however, her attention was caught by other styles. She particularly liked the concept of pointillism – it was almost magic how masses of tiny dots could be formed to create some of the works done. It certainly took a special eye to do that, to be able to look beyond each small mark and see the overall effect.

Pam was about to show Jim a particularly impressive work by Seurat when his cell phone beeped to announce an incoming text message. She watched him pick his phone up from the end table, read the message and close the phone. He said nothing, but sat up and immediately began to fold up the Sunday paper.

“Who was that?” Pam asked. Her curiosity was piqued by his lack of disclosure. It was quite normal for him to tell her immediately who a message was from.

“Oh, no one,” Jim replied casually. “Just Mark with a stupid comment.” Jim put the newspaper on the coffee table as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” She asked, closing her book.

“You know, I just remembered that I need to run out to pick up a final gift for you.”

“Really?” Pam cocked her head, frowning. “I thought you told me on Thursday that you were done with all your Christmas shopping.”

“I was,” Jim stammered. “I mean, I am. But an idea came to me last night.”

“Amongst other things,” Pam smirked.

“Look who's talking,” he countered.

“Hmmph,” she replied, flipping another page in the art book. “I'm surprised you had energy left for thinking at all.”

“Anyway,” Jim said in an exaggerated voice. “I want to go out and see what I can find.”

Pam got up and followed him into the bedroom as he began to get changed out of his sweats. “If I know you, you've already spent way too much money on presents,” she said.

“It's just an idea,” he replied. “I might not even be able to get it.”

Pam stretched out on the bed as she watched him pull on his jeans. “Are you sure you really want to go out in the cold when you could just stay right here in this nice warm apartment with me?”

“That is not even a question,” Jim laughed, sitting down on the bed next to her. “But trust me, if I find what I'm looking for you'll love it.”

Pam pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I already love what I have right here.”

Jim checked his watch, then kissed her. “I won't be gone long, and then I'm all yours again.”

She trailed her fingers under his sweatshirt and along his warm back as she leaned in for another kiss. “You don't need to get me anything,” she insisted, smiling against his lips before kissing him again.

“But I want to,” he replied. His resolve to leave was weakening by her continued affection, and she thought she had won when he didn't resist her pulling him down onto the mattress with her. A few minutes later, however, he was reluctantly but determinedly pulling away.

“Hold that thought,” he grinned. “I'll expect to pick up this conversation right here when I get back.”

“Oh, do you?” She replied. “Well maybe the moment will have passed by then.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Jim narrowed his eyes at her. “That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.”

Pam shrugged and put her arms up behind her head. “Just saying.”

He leaned over and kissed her one last time before standing up. “Well, I look forward to proving you wrong then.”

“Well it better be good,” she sighed, releasing him.

“It will,” he nodded. “And I'll tell you what - I'll even bring some pizza back with me.”

“Well, why didn't you say that before?” She laughed. “Get out now.”

She waved to him from the door as he made his way to the car, the cold December wind whipping through his hair. Not that it made much difference to his appearance, Pam chuckled. She wondered if he'd still be sporting such a scruffy hairstyle twenty years from now. She decided she wouldn't mind it if he did. There was something just so Jim about that look. Maybe it was how it always made him look like he was still a few steps away from being completely grown up. As far as she could tell, being grown up was overrated anyway.

She leaned against the front door as she pushed it shut, and smiled to herself. She hadn't been convinced at all by his reason for leaving. She had been waiting since she woke up for Parma to show up with the new letter, and his reaction to the text message tipped her off that something was up. As she walked into the kitchen to make some hot tea, she had no doubts why Jim really left. She took two mugs out of the cabinet and started the water boiling as she waited for her friend's imminent arrival.

The water was just starting to boil when the knock came at the door. “Damn, I'm good,” Pam said as she opened to door. “Tea?”

Parma laughed. “Is that how you greet all your guests? And yes, I'd love some.”

“Well let's just say you guys need to work on your secret codes,” Pam replied, leading Parma into the kitchen and indicating she should have a seat at the high topped kitchen table. “I'm glad you guys were on our side during the Cold War.”

Parma grinned, though she tried to feign innocence. “I have no idea what you are talking about, PJ.”

“Amazing,” Pam replied, pouring the hot water into the mugs in front of her. “By your timing one would think you'd planned on showing up just after Jim went out.”

“Oh, he's not here?”

“No, he said he had a last minute gift to go buy.”

“Heh,” Parma snorted. “Better him than me. The mall's gotta be a nightmare today.”

“Well, I'd be surprised if he went all the way to the mall. My guess is that he's stopped at Chick's for a coffee and is assuming you'll text him when you've left here.”

“Wow, Peej,” Parma exclaimed as she stirred her tea. “I always knew you had a tendency toward conspiracy theories – but really.”

Pam raised her eyebrow sceptically. “Does that mean you don't have an envelope for me?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. Maybe I just wanted to stop by and wish my best friend Merry Christmas. You are going to your mom's tomorrow, right?”

“I am,” Pam nodded, sipping her tea. “I mean, we are. Jim's first Christmas at the Beeslys, God help him.”

“Yeah, but at least he's already met your family.”

“A few times. But this is our first overnighter there.”

“Uh-oh,” Parma grinned. “Does that mean they'll be making Jim sleep in the den on the first floor while you are back in your old room on the second?”

“Oh, I'm sure Dad's plan is to put him in the basement next to his wood shop,” Pam rolled her eyes. “But what they say and what I'll do could be entirely different things.”

“Always the rebellious daughter, huh?”

“You bet,” Pam replied sarcastically. “That's me – always bucking the system.”

“Well, you can always pull a teenage meltdown,” Parma suggested. “'But Mo-o-o-o-m! All the other girls get to have their boyfriends sleep in their bedrooms!'”

Pam's laughter was genuine. “I don't think it will come to that. Given that I'm pretty sure my mom already likes Jim more than she likes me, where ever he wants to sleep will no doubt be completely okay with her.”

“What is it about him?” Parma complained. “I've yet to meet a girl who didn't like Jim.”

“No idea,” Pam shrugged. “I don't get what women see in him, personally. He's smart and funny and kind-hearted.... what's so attractive about that?”

“The mind boggles,” Parma agreed. She could tell Pam was struggling to keep a straight face. “What's even more amazing is that I hear that he really sucks in bed.”

Pam's head dropped and her giggles could be contained no longer. “Oh, now that's not fair,” she protested weakly. “He's not even here to defend himself.”

Parma laughed as well. “I think this is the part where you are the one who should be defending him.”

Pam finished her tea and brushed her mouth slightly with her hand. “I see what you're doing.”

“What?”

“You're just digging for smut talk.”

“Would I?”

“Don't you always?”

“Fine,” Parma sighed. “You can't blame a girl for trying. It's not like I have any experiences to relate lately. I've been living vicariously through you for months now.”

“Oh, and who's fault is that?”

“Not mine!” Parma protested. “I'm more than ready for the opportunity to present itself.”

“Well, there's always Ben,” Pam said lightly, tracing the lip of her mug with her finger.

“Don't start,” Parma warned. “Don't even start.”

“Fine,” Pam said dismissively. “But give me my letter.”

“What letter?”

Pam frowned fiercely at her friend. “THE letter.”

Parma smiled and reached into her purse. “Well look what I found,” she marveled. “I think this envelope is meant for you.”

Pam pulled the manila packet out of her hands. “Tease,” she complained.

“And yet, it's what you love most about me,” Parma replied smoothly.

Pam ran her hands over the envelope, wondering with excitement what the next letter would say. What trinkets Jim had collected in what - April, wasn't it? And what charm would there be to add to her collection? She looked up to find Parma staring at her, obviously amused.

“What?” Pam asked.

“Should I let you two be alone?”

“Shut up,” Pam said, slightly embarrassed. “I can wait.”

“Sure you can,” Parma teased as she finished her tea.

“I can,” Pam insisted, still clutching the envelope. “I just don't want to.”

“Now that's the Pam I know,” Parma admitted as she gave her friend a big hug. “And I don't blame you in the slightest. Enjoy.”

“So I'll see you tomorrow?” Pam asked as they walked to the door.

“I don't know. What time are you leaving?”

“I promised my mom we'd be out the door by noon.”

Parma thought a moment. “Maybe then.”

Pam just shook her head. “You and your maybes. You are enjoying this entirely too much.”

“Maybe,” Parma winked as she walked out.

Pam had already the seal broken on the envelope before the door had completely shut. She practically skipped back to the kitchen, and carefully slid the contents on to the tabletop. She found a blue and white hospital bracelet, an individual packet of tropical fruit mix Jelly Bellies, a metal egg dipper, and an information pamphlet from the Aaron Counseling Center. Pam peered inside the bag, surprised not to find at least one ticket stub in the mix. Going to the movies was a staple of their entertainment diet. She laughed as she pulled out a final piece of paper that had gotten stuck inside: one of the detached ad strips from a Netflix red rental envelope. Placing it with the rest of her treasures, Pam sat down to read the accompanying letter.

Dear Pam,

Another day, another letter, and yes, another month. I hope these aren't boring you yet! When I first thought about writing down what I remembered from this past year, I thought it would be difficult to find enough to write about. Not that I don't have many good memories, because you know I do. But how could I add to what we already both know? I guess what I didn't expect was that thinking about the past would make start to really think about the past. I know that makes absolutely no sense – but looking back I can see connections to things that I couldn't see back then. What we went through when I first came back to Scranton – between us, between me and Karen, between you and Roy – all of that seemed to prove the cliche about things having to get worse before they get better. Wait – is that a cliche? Maybe that was just something my mom used to say as a way to cheer me up. Well, whatever. The point is that I thought the bad stuff was put behind us, you know? But last April was pretty hard on us too, wasn't it?

Thankfully the big difference was that we were together. I can't imagine anything that could permanently break us up (and forgive me if I don't really want to hear any suggestions!) - but April certainly had more tears and serious talks than we'd ever had before. Again – not necessarily a bad thing, but it goes without saying that I prefer to see you smile than to cry. (And yet, I said it.) I was not sorry to see that month end.

What's the first thing you think of when you think back to April? I'd bet a whole year of commissions that it's not the Easter Bunny. At least the scar's faded – or so you tell me. I still can't see it too well myself. But I guess it's the least I could take for you. I mean, had I been in Roy's position I would have been mad, too. Except if I were Roy, I never would have been such an idiot in the first place. Yeah – I know I'm an idiot, but of a totally different kind. You're the best thing in my life, and I've always known that – even before I knew for sure that you were going to be so completely in my life.

I think the confrontation was inevitable, but I wonder if I hadn't insisted on going out to lunch that day if he would have approached you at home instead of at work. While it wasn't my intention that he lose his job, I do take some satisfaction in that he didn't get away with it, like he might have had he shown up at either of our apartments. Anger is one thing, but when he threatens to take it out on you, well – I'm not exactly a fighter (quit laughing!) but I had no hesitation whatsoever in stepping in.

I don't know what he first said to you, nor I guess, do I want to know – but when I walked outside to meet you at my car and I saw him shouting at you, well – I can't remember the last time I'd felt that angry. I guess at that point I knew it wasn't going to end well.

Did you ever talk to Angela about the whole thing? As irritating as she can be, I'm not entirely convinced she told Roy about kissing at the Dundies that year to cause trouble. I only say that because when I came back into work after the incident, she expressed almost – almost! - the tiniest amount of concern over my appearance. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn she was feeling guilty. Not that she'd ever admit that. Not to soulless heathens like us.

Of course, had we known she'd let that slip – then I'm sure you would have been able to respond to his accusation in a way that would have lessened the whole thing. You always did seem to have that knack. (Shame you had to have it at all, but that's another story.) At the very least you would have known which kiss he was talking about. I thought he was talking about the night of the benefit, too – I mean, if there was a kiss for him to get upset about, that would be the one. I'm grateful that whole scene missed being caught on tape – because even as I stood there it reminded me of a really bad sitcom plot. He accuses you of cheating because we kissed, you try to explain (NOT that you needed to!) and you think he's talking of a different kiss, and soon he realizes we'd kissed more than once. Yeah, that was a fun moment.

I wasn't surprised he hit me. Honestly, I wasn't. What amazed me was that hitting him back actually caused any damage. Granted, his nose wasn't broken, but it bleed a bit, quite a bit really, and that felt VERY satisfying to watch. Well, watch out of my good eye. I have no doubts that if Lonnie hadn't noticed what was going on he would have hit me a few more times. So, I guess I owe the Sea Monster one.

It did have a happy ending though – you sitting in the ER, holding my hand while the darvocet worked its magic. Even only able to see out of one eye, I thought you looked so beautiful sitting there. Even with the distressed look your face over how things turned out. Even with the blood – my blood! - on your shirt. Maybe I should take darvocet more often. Kidding - I suspect I'd have found you irresistible even without narcotics.

And so that's the story that will go down for generations on how I got my first set of stitches, although I'm not quite sure three stitches is all that impressive. Still, I have played years and years of basketball and baseball and I never needed more than an ice compress and a bandage – but get involved with you and suddenly I'm getting needles stuck in my head to keep my stuffing from falling out. Thanks, Pam. At least my brother Jon was impressed with that black eye I had. I think he's using the picture he took of me on his Christmas cards this year.

And so that pretty much finally ended any more interactions with Roy, and for that I'm happy. Oh, I know you still keep in touch with his family, and would never be rude to him if you ran into him – but it was like a demon was finally exorcised out of my life. Even though we'd been together for a few months, and your relationship with him had been long over – it was like the universe had let out a big sigh and said FINALLY!!! HE'S GONE!!!! I suppose that's not the mature reaction. But it's the truth, and I've promised to do my best to tell you the truth. I did not cry a single tear when he left. Yes, I know, that probably surprises you. I am full of surprises, Beesly.

But we had some fun in April, didn't we? I had certainly never had such an interesting Easter, that's for sure. My family doesn't make a big deal about the holiday – we have a nice dinner, go to church (for the semi-annual appearance), and that's about it. But yours? Geesh. It's like your mom invented the holiday with as much effort as she put into everything. I'm sure the fact that she has grandchildren to spoil helps, but I suspect that even before your sister had kids you guys were making a big fuss about things. It was pretty easy to see where you get your enthusiasm from. I think the last time I'd actually dyed Easter eggs I was a freshman in high school. I think the last time you'd dyed eggs was the Easter before last. (Dork.) I can hardly wait to see what Christmas at the Beesly household is going to be like. Seriously – I'm sure this is going to be my best Christmas ever. At least until next year.

But back to April. I suppose the only thing I'm leaving out is Michael's attempt to kill himself with a bouncy castle. Are we still sure we did the right thing in getting him to come down off the roof without jumping? It's just a shame we didn't get the castle on site for a few more days - You are a damn impressive castle bouncer. I think I need to find a way to get that back out there for your birthday.

Funny how ended up leading to one of our most serious conversations ever. It wasn't as if I had planned on it. One moment we're sneaking into the bouncy castle after everyone else had gone for the day (You were bouncing with excitement well before we even set foot in it!) - the next we're stretched out on the bobbing floor of it and I'm telling you how I know firsthand about the depression Michael was trying to talk about earlier in the day.

It felt really good to finally be able to tell you about that. I hadn't told anyone how I had been seeing a psychologist. I'd never even told my mother. It took long enough for me to admit to myself I needed the help. And I didn't tell you because I wanted you to feel guilty or responsible – because you were neither. Depression often has a genetic link, and as you know now – and I come from a line of people who've struggled with their own demons. And I know there are many people who could push through tough emotional times and take it in stride. But the therapist I eventually admitted I needed to see when I came back to Scranton really, really helped me, even if at the time it didn't seem like it. It just took a while for her words to sink in. But I am sure had I never faced things, I'd still be carrying around a lot of unnecessarily anger and frustration.

Not that you don't deserve credit for helping me sort things out, too. I think that up until that night I was still carrying a lot of guilt about what had happened between us, how I acted to Karen, etc – and you just listened. You really listened. When I think about the times that I knew you were perfect for me, I always remember that night. How could I have a better friend than you? More importantly, what did I do so right to deserve you? That is a question for the ages.

Eh – I don't really want to end this letter sounding so down. But I know most of the time we let the serious moments slide by, and I know I don't always tell you the things I should be telling you. Like how I wake up everyday thankful that you are in my life, and how nothing I do makes sense if you're not around. Trust me, I know that for a fact. I tried to live without you once, remember? I've no plans on doing that again. Ever.

Love,

Jim

The small enclosed gift was bumpier than the others had been, and Pam wondered what symbol for April he had decided on. Her breath hitched as the charm fell from its paper and into her hand – it was a silver castle, complete with corner turrets. It was a perfect reminder of their night in the bouncy castle, and she wondered yet again where he was finding these things. She reached up around her neck out of a habit these days - it was time to change out the charm on her necklace.

She mindlessly fiddled with the new charm around her neck as she sat by the living room window waiting for Jim to return. She knew the evening would be spent wrapping all the presents that Jim and Pam had bought for other people. But as she watched him pull his car back into his usual parking space, Pam thought all that could wait a little while longer. Right now she was much more interested in the idea of unwrapping things.