Pam pushed open her door and dropped her purse and the day’s mail on the small bench in the hallway. Though relieved of her burdens, she still felt like she was carrying a heavy load. Things at work were still tense. She and Jim didn’t speak…didn’t even acknowledge each other. She thought that was probably due to the last letter she had sent. She realized too late that she had jumped the gun…had acted on her actual timetable instead of the show’s airing schedule. She hadn’t been able to intercept the letter and was mortified after she saw Jim holding it after she transferred Karen to his extension yesterday. She knew he had it. She couldn’t tell if he had read it or not.
Something was up between Jim and Karen as well. They weren’t speaking to each other and she noticed a tenseness in Jim’s shoulders every time Karen passed him. She couldn’t tell if they were fighting or tired or just trying to keep their relationship professional in the office. She was getting to the point where she didn’t care…where she couldn’t care anymore. All she was thinking about was a hot bath and a glass of wine.
She hung her coat on the hook and shuffled through her mail. Bills. Junk. The usual. There was a plain white envelope, though, with her name and address neatly typed on the front. Something about it seemed familiar. Though the letter was stamped, she noticed it wasn’t postmarked. She slid her nail along the crease and slid out the folded paper. As the first words hit her, her knees grew week and she slid down the wall until she was seated on the hallway floor.
Dear Pam,
You don’t know me, but I’m your biggest fan. I always have been.
I’ve been rooting for you since the beginning…back when you were with someone would didn’t support you, who didn’t see all of the wonderful things that you are.
I was your fan even when you didn’t believe in yourself enough to take a chance.
I did my best to support you in what I thought were poor choices. I always wanted what was best for you…what would make you happy…what would make you smile.
Even when it hurt to be your fan I still thought about you a lot. I knew I was obsessed…knew that I wasn’t doing myself any good and that the best thing to do was to move on…find someone else to admire.
I tried.
It didn’t work.
Someone recently told me that a fan is someone who remains uncritical no matter what and that made me question a lot of what I had been doing…and it’s made me re-evaluate what I thought about you. I even wondered if maybe I had stopped being your fan because there was a lot about your actions I was critical of.
The fact that you used the word “misinterpreted”.
The fact that you never called to share your news.
The fact that you couldn’t talk to me in person, but had to send me letters…made me feel like I hadn’t accomplished anything by moving to Stamford and getting a shiny new girlfriend. You made me hurt again.
There’s a lot there I’m critical of…just as you are critical of me. I get it. We have a lot of issues. We should probably talk.
And I hope you do want to talk because despite all that’s happened, I remain your biggest fan. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but know this…your letters have given me hope… have made me see that maybe things can be different…if we’re both willing to give it a chance.
Love,
Your Biggest Fan
P.S. I hear there’s a fan club meeting in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot tonight 7ish. Don’t worry about secret handshakes or decoder rings. I think you’ll recognize me.
She changed, freshened her makeup, fixed her hair and was out the door in record time, the letter still clutched in her grasp.
