“Ednit Burnson.” Pam said slowly. She shifted on the floor trying to get in a comfortable position.
Jim turned in his spot a few inches away from her and looked at her. “That’s a name?” he asked incredulously.
She nodded and handed him the paper which his eyes widened at and he set it among the piles on the floor. “Some cruel parents he had.”
Pam snickered quietly. “That’s a girl’s name Jim.”
Jim stood and took a seat closer to her, letting his knee bump into her own every time he shifted to get another paper. “Right, just like Dwight’s a boy’s name.” He made the stressed sound on the word ‘boy’ as she did ‘girl’. Just so she knew he was mocking her; just so she’d smile longer.
“Alright what do we have left?” he asked looking at the papers blanketing the floor.
“We’re only on B Jim.”
“What?” he whined and bucked his knees up and down a bit. She smiled at him and his adorable state. “Like the letter only after A?”
“Yes, well I mean there was like fifty for the last name of A so…” She shrugged. “At least we’re on B now.”
“Right, cause B is such a great letter.” He rolled his eyes and he gave her a sideways head tilt.
She nodded in agreement. “A lot of great things start with B. Box, button...um...”
“I believe um starts with a U.”
She nudged him in the side and continued going through words in her head. “Bears, beets, belt buckles…”
He grinned. “Bono…”
Pam started giggling and she suddenly looked at him surprised. “Um, hello? Beesely starts with B.”
“And since when is Beesely such an amazing thing?” he made a face at her and looked confused.
She smiled. “Since always.”
She got up and he nodded his head. Pam was right; she’d been amazing since the moment he met her.
~*~*~*~
Jim sighed placing the last paper with the last name beginning with D on the stack labeled matte paper. “You want to take a break?”
“And miss putting,” she looked at the paper. “Edward Eqiano in a pile? Maybe I’ll wait.”
Jim got up from his spot and walked over to where she was sitting and towered over her. “I’ll get you a grape soda.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Well sweep me off my feet Jim Halpert, grape soda?”
He shook his head and held out his hand for her to take. “Keep pushing it Beesely, I’ll never get you anything again.”
She took his hand and stood. She then made a zipping motion with her fingers over her lips and he nodded. “That’s more like it.”
She followed him into the break room and took a seat and waited for him to sit down with her. When he did he slid her can towards her and it almost fell over onto her lap. “Let’s play a game.”
She popped open the can. “Ok, like what?”
“How about “Almost Honest.””
She took a sip as he opened his can. “What’s that?”
“I’ll say a word and you have to say the first word that comes to your head. There are no repeats and you have to be honest.” He wondered if it was something she could do; be honest.
She nodded and he decided he’d start. “Ok… nobody.”
Nobody knew her like he did. “Alone.” She said. She had already lied, but Jim didn’t seem to notice.
Being alone just made him want her more. Jim shook his head. “Painting.”
She was confused that painting had come to his mind when he thought of the word alone. Like maybe alone was how he thought she felt when she painted.
Her paintings always looked like him. “Colors.” At least she was sticking to her general thoughts. But by looking at his face, he was having trouble deciding what he should say.
Colors seemed to fade when she cried. “Fixing.” He said suddenly. And then realized that had nothing to do with what he was thinking. But it was easier to say and that seemed to be the general idea of the game now.
He was always trying to fix her. “Knowing.” That was the first time she’d been honest. Because her next thought was, He knows I’m lying.
He knew she didn’t really love Roy. “Lies.” He was being honest for a change.
She felt like she had to lie to Jim to prevent hurting him. She shook her head and sighed. “Love.”
Pam. He wondered when her name had replaced love in his head. “Passion.”
Jim. His name seemed to have come so easily when he’d said passion. But she knew what she had to say; what she was obligated to say. “Roy.”
The game stopped shortly after that.
~*~*~*~
“I can’t believe its eight.” Pam looked at her watch and then shook it as if the time was wrong. “Have we really been here that long and are only on G?”
Jim shrugged and placed pile upon pile and placed them on the conference table. He hadn’t said that much to her since they’d gathered back in their damn little room. He knew that every time he came in here now he’d think of her, sitting on the floor, trying to make small talk with him. He wasn’t angry at her or anything he just felt extremely uncomfortable. Like the feeling he got when he was in a hot stuffy room or in a closed space. He wondered if she was the reason he felt claustrophobic all of a sudden.
“Jim…are you mad at me or something?” she stood again and he felt the sudden urge to push her back on the floor. He didn’t want to look at her but he turned nonetheless.
He shook his head and gave her small smile. “What? No, why would I be mad at you?” It was a good question, seeing as he couldn’t quite figure out the answer himself. “I’m just…tired.”
“Well I mean, it is only eight.”
“And I’ve been up since four.” He said plainly.
She scrunched her eyebrows. “Four AM? Why?”
He shrugged again. Couldn’t mention he kept thinking about her and that it had given him such a headache that he couldn’t fall asleep. “I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t feeling well.”
She nodded. “You know what I do when I can’t fall asleep?”
He shook his head. He remembered she had called him once when she couldn’t fall asleep. But she had to get off because Roy wanted to go to bed; like all of a sudden she couldn’t go into another room to talk with him.
“I can only imagine.”
She smiled. “I go outside…and I look at the moon.” She said slowly.
He turned to lean against the table. He liked this side of her. The side of her that told him things new and that he knew were secretive. Like he could tell she never told Roy that she did this. It was something they just shared; like so many other things.
“Or the stars, because sometimes the moon isn’t big enough…” she trailed off and shook her head. “Wow I sound stupid.” She laughed at herself, which Jim was glad she could do.
“No.” He smiled. “You never sound stupid to me. Do you draw anything?”
She nodded and leaned against the table next to him. He felt her bump her hip against his. “Sometimes. But I have other inspirations.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Which are?”
Pam wanted to tell him he was her inspiration. All the time. The colors she used or the lines she drew, the paint she splattered and the pastels she blended. Everything was him; like it was a part of him she always had.
“Depends on the moment I guess.” She always felt like she had to back out of anything that sounded like she was going to be too honest.
Jim just nodded and shrugged. “You have drawings with you?”
“Need another break?” she smiled.
He followed her to her desk and waited until she pulled a portfolio out from under her desk. He wondered if she always kept something like that under there.
“Do you have a circus tent under there too?” he asked.
She giggled. “Yes, along with an elephant and ring leader.”
“I knew you had something to do with the missing ringleader and circus that was on the news.”
She pulled out some drawings and pastel covered papers and he noticed she kept one specifically in the portfolio. “What about that one?” he motioned to the one she was hiding.
“What? Oh that ones not…” she looked embarrassed and it honestly confused him. Was she worried that he wouldn’t like it or he’d judge it or something?
“Pam, come on. You know I’d never judge you.” But all she did was shrug and look even further humiliated; if that was even possible.
Pam felt bad not showing him it, because then it was like she didn’t trust him or something. Or that she didn’t believe that he’d never judge her.
“Please?” he asked gently.
She finally nodded and handed him the portfolio. He cleared his throat and pulled out a thicker piece of paper than the others were. His fingers grazed across the surface of the pastel covered paper. It was a picture of a girl sitting in rose petals and lavender. The strokes of maroon and violet blended across the page and her eyes were a glistening blue. The girl’s hair was curly and brown and he wondered how she could give people such texture and beauty.
Pastels reminded Jim so much of Pam. They were soft and came in vibrant colors. And when touched, some of the color always came off on fingers and sometimes got on clothes. Which is what Pam always was. She was like the chalky pastel that wouldn’t come off his fingers or clothes no matter how many times he washed them.
“Why wouldn’t you want to show this to me?” he was hurt and it was evident in his voice.
“I just…I don’t think it’s finished. I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to hurt him and she hoped he kept looking over the drawing. That way he wouldn’t see the real answer in her eyes.
He shrugged and looked at her. “So what was your inspiration for this Beesley?”
He smiled and she felt like she was breaking. “You kind of were.”
“Me?” He actually pointed to himself.
She nodded embarrassed the words had poured from her mouth so easily and took the drawing from his hands and put it back in the portfolio, leaving the others behind on her desk.
“We have names to pile.”
He nodded as she headed back into the conference room. The thing about pastels was they broke so easily.
~*~*~*
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali