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He thinks he’s so clever. But I’ve got him figured out.
I know what day he’s planning it. Of course! I don’t know how I didn’t think of it sooner. He thinks I don’t remember, or that it didn’t mean to me what it did to him…but he’s wrong, on both counts. I remember, and it changed everything.
May 27th. The day we met.
That’s when he’s gonna do it.
Yeah…pretty sure.
********
Jim was early on his first day, which was really the only reason, initially, that I bothered to talk to him at all. I’d learned by then not to put too much effort into getting to know the new hires until at least a solid month had passed; Scranton had by far the worst employee retention rate in all of Dunder-Mifflin. The sales people were hardest of all to hang on to, for which I fix the blame firmly on Dwight rather than Michael. There was a good reason the desk next to Dwight’s was always empty.
But this new guy seemed promising. He was young, and therefore possibly more open to the weirdness that is Dunder-Mifflin. Very tall, a little thin, a lot of thick brown hair falling in his eyes. He smiled at me kind of shyly as he hung up his coat and introduced himself. “Jim Halpert, I’m the new sales rep?”
“Hi, I’m Pam Beesly.” I reached up over my counter to shake his hand. “You’re early, Jim Halpert. Nobody else gets here till at least eight.”
“Yeah, um…didn’t want to be late,” he said uneasily, shifting his bag on his shoulder.
“Want some coffee? I was about to go start some. I can show you around.” I gestured toward the break room with my chin as I finished logging on to my computer.
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” He smiled again and this time it made it all the way to his eyes. Nice green eyes that seemed very kind.
Cute, I decided. He had a great smile, infectious and ingratiating. Straight white teeth.
Well, good for him. A friendly smile is a salesperson’s best asset, Phyllis says.
He left his bag beside my desk and followed me to the kitchen, standing back with his hands in his pockets as I rinsed out the pot and started making a fresh batch. “So what did you think of Michael’s interview…process?” I asked casually.
He let out a kind of barking laugh but managed to turn it into a cough. “It was, um…interesting,” he said cautiously.
“Did he ask you a bunch of inappropriate personal questions?” I shuddered a little with the memory of some of my interview questions, half of which were certainly illegal to ask. How old was I. Was I married. Was I planning on getting “knocked up” anytime soon. Who did I think was hotter: Tyra Banks or Naomi Campbell?
“Well, he did seem disappointed that I’m not Jewish,” Jim said thoughtfully.
I frowned. “Why would he think you were Jewish?”
He tapped the side of his rather large nose with a smile and a shrug and I laughed aloud. Oh, God. Only Michael.
“Yeah.” He scratched his chin. “You think I should tell him my ancestors are Polish?”
I grinned. “At your own peril.” I pulled my mug out of the cabinet and a cup from the styrofoam stack on top of the microwave. “Cream and sugar?”
“Oh, you don’t have to…okay, yes, one of each, please.” He gave me a grateful smile as I fixed his coffee alongside mine and handed it to him. “Thanks.”
“You are going to need it.” I blew on my coffee and took a small sip. “I suggest you bring your own mug. Those cups seem to disappear as fast as we can order them.” My instincts said Creed had something to do with that, but maybe it was best not to inundate the new guy with too much detail right up front. All in good time.
I took him on a quick tour of the office: break room, kitchen, annex, accounting. By then Dwight had arrived and was busily sharpening what looked to be an entire box of pencils. “Are you ready?” I whispered as we headed back to my desk.
“Hmm?” He lifted his eyebrows, peering at me from over his coffee as he picked up his messenger bag. “For what?”
“You need to remember this moment,” I said solemnly, “because you will never be able to return to the time before you met your desk-mate, Dwight.”
His eyes widened and became very round but he clearly thought I was joking. Poor thing…
By eleven o’clock, when Dwight took him on his first sales call, Jim had made incredulous eye contact with me at least a dozen times, and his expression of help me! as they left had me grinning for an hour.
********
So that was the moment, he told me years later, that he knew he liked me. I know that for me, there were many, many instances where I looked at him twice and thought Wow, he’s really great. The one I told him about, though—when he warned me about my expired yogurt—was only one of many such moments. But it wasn’t the first time I realized I was attracted to him.
We’re not supposed to have secrets. But there are some things that are best left unsaid.
I knew Jim liked me as more than just a friend from the very first—from our first lunch date, in fact, less than five hours after we met. What Jim doesn’t know—what I can never, never tell him—is that I lied to him about Roy that day.
The truth is, we weren’t really engaged.
********
When they returned from their call to Brinderman Contractors over in Dunmore at twelve-thirty, Dwight appeared triumphant and satisfied and Jim looked sort of shell-shocked. “How’d he do?” I asked, winking at Jim as I handed Dwight his stack of messages.
“He has potential…if he follows the guidelines I have suggested. And stops smiling so much.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
Dwight smirked derisively. “You know nothing of psychology, Pamela. Which is why you will never be accepted to the sales team.”
“Yeah that’s a shame,” I muttered.
Dwight hung up his coat and went to his desk but Jim was just standing there staring at me. “Are you okay?” I whispered. He nodded but he looked so freaked out I couldn’t keep from grinning. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He gave his head a sharp shake like snap out of it. “Hey have you had lunch yet? I’d really love to talk to someone, um, normal? for a while.”
“That sounds great,” I agreed immediately. “There’s this great pizza place down the street, let’s get out of here.” I needed the escape, too. Michael was in rare form today; Jan was coming by this afternoon and I’d been in his office half the morning trying to help him decide if the blue tie or the red one was more “authoritative.”
“Oh good.” He smiled (yes he does smile a lot) and tapped his fingers on my counter. “Um, just let me hit the restroom and we’ll go?”
“Hurry up.” That got a full-fledged grin from him.
I decided I really liked making him smile.
He offered to drive if I’d navigate, and surprised me by coming around to open my door. That was the first time I thought Wow, he’s really sweet. But when I looked up into his face to tease him for being old-fashioned the words died in my throat.
He was watching me, and he tilted his head to give me that smile, the first of so many of those smiles; his eyes were this brilliant green in the sun and his hair had fallen in his eyes and his expression was so…well, for a second I saw him, really saw him, and he took my breath away.
I can’t tell Jim this, that I was attracted to him too. That it wasn’t something that grew over time as a result of friendship and proximity; it was immediate and visceral and a little bit terrifying.
I was with Roy. I’d been with Roy since high school; I was practically married. I mean he hadn’t gotten me a ring yet but we had talked about marriage in terms of when for a long time. Roy and I had lived together for three years, been together for almost seven; it was inevitable.
And here was this sweet, funny, not-unattractive man taking me to lunch and I hadn’t even told him that I had a boyfriend. That I was, for all intents and purposes, engaged.
Oh my God what am I doing?
As Jim walked around to get in the driver’s seat I laced my hands together tightly and thought about how I had to be very careful not to give him the wrong idea.
But I couldn’t find a way to tell him I was taken. We shared a calzone and joked about Michael and Dwight, and he talked with his hands in a way I found absolutely fascinating, and I liked him so much, just immediately. The shyness that made it so hard for me to talk to most people simply did not exist around him. He made me laugh in a way I hadn’t in years, it seemed, if ever. He listened to everything I said with rapt attention, laughed at even my lamest jokes, asked me questions, told me stories about his brother and sister and his crazy college roommate who was now renting a house with him. It was only at the very end of the hour, when he got quiet and started to look nervous and hopeful, that I realized what he was about to do and in a panic I blurted out something about Roy, “my fiancé.”
I’ll never forget the look on his face then, surprise and dismayed disbelief, maybe even a hint of anger. Certainly some of the light dimmed in his eyes, and when he glanced at my bare ring finger and his eyebrows drew together in confusion I heard myself lying again, saying it was getting sized at the jeweler’s. “Oh,” he said finally, softly. “That’s, um, that’s…great. Congratulations.”
“We should probably be getting back. You know, if you’re not quitting,” I joked, desperate to lighten the mood and get my new friend back. Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry. Can’t we just…?
He smiled weakly. “On my first day?”
“The last three sales reps the temp agency sent us didn’t make it past lunch,” I said solemnly. “Are you up to the task?”
“Well.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “I guess it would be cruel to make you walk back, so… okay, let’s go. But you have to promise me something,” he added, tossing a twenty on the table and waving me off when I started to pull out my wallet. “If I need someone to save me from Dwight, I’ll expect you to be there.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “It’ll depend on the situation, I imagine. But you have to promise. He will drive me insane if I don’t have an ally.” He regarded me sternly. “Will you be that ally, Beesly?”
Nobody had ever called me by my last name before. I instantly decided I liked it.
“I will,” I replied solemnly, and held up my hand. “Pinky swear?”
He hooked his pinky with mine and grinned.
An alliance was born.
********
For the next month I pressured Roy with not-so-subtle hints until he conceded that since we were definitely getting married it was time for him to get me a ring. And when he did surprise me with it, on a Sunday afternoon barbecue at his parents’, my heart felt utterly full and I was genuinely content with the life that was spread out before me. Cookouts and weekends at the lake and holiday dinners with family. It was all I’d ever wanted. That, and maybe to finish my art degree. But that could wait until we were married.
Kelly squealed when I showed it to her and Angela gave one of her rare approving nods and Phyllis said she was so happy for me and Michael made some remark I’ve since purged out of my memory. In truth, I was as grateful to have physical proof of my engagement as I was happy that we were finally getting married. It was a relief to not have to feel like a liar.
Jim smiled and offered another congratulations and seemed genuinely happy for me. And I started to think I’d imagined the look in his eyes that day, that I was just flattering myself that he’d find a girl like me attractive.
********
In the month since Ryan’s little reprimand, Jim’s been like a different person at work. He’s a natural salesman anyway; what Dwight achieves through tenacity and his own weirdly compelling brand of forcefulness, Jim achieves with a smile and the impression of authentic integrity that surrounds him. He’s always had respectable numbers without putting forth much effort, but to see him really motivated was like getting a glimpse of an entirely different man.
It was kind of hot. And it made me wonder how different he might be if he had a job he was really passionate about.
I knew why he was so concerned about keeping his job; he’d admitted as much when he asked me if I’d marry him even if he were unemployed. I was a little sorry I hadn’t just answered yes yes yes it doesn’t matter we’ll get through it but for one, that’s cheating—he doesn’t get my answer until he really asks, even if he already knows what the answer will be—and also I know how very traditional he is at heart. He wants to get married in a church and buy me a house with a terrace off the bedroom like I’ve dreamed of, and he wants us to have a family and for me not to have to work so I can stay home with the kids (“if you want to…”), and I know that ultimately if he has those things he doesn’t care what he does to pay for them. We’ve talked about being married and what kind of life we want, and we’ve agreed on all of that. We want the same things, we’re best friends, and I love him so much it’s a little overwhelming. I feel protective toward him in a way I never did with Roy.
I want him to be happy, and I know that eventually he’ll need more to make him happy than just seeing me happy. And I want to encourage him to indulge his dreams—to let himself have dreams—without making him think I want to change him, or that he isn’t good enough for me. He can sell paper forever, or take over Michael’s job, or move up to corporate, and if that’s what he wants I’ll be with him, and do everything I can to make him happy in the rest of his life. But I’ve seen him when he’s genuinely excited and enthusiastic and if he could do something professionally to channel that energy, I think he’d really be something to behold.
Still, he’s sometimes such a boy and that’s part of his appeal. “Let’s go to Vermont,” he suggested over lunch the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend. “Get away for a couple days.”
I beamed. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” He dunked a carrot stick in my side of ranch. “When do we ever do anything just the two of us?”
“Every night of the week?” I said dryly.
He rolled his eyes at me. “You know what I mean. Every time we go anywhere overnight it’s family or something.”
“You forgot the beet farm.”
“Only after weeks of therapy. Come on, it’ll be fun.” He grinned and nodded and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
He’s completely impossible to resist when he makes those faces, not that I wanted to resist anyway. I couldn’t help thinking that the 27th, our first-meeting anniversary, is unfortunately on the Tuesday after the long weekend. Close enough. Still a good plan, Halpert. “Well, I was planning on painting my bedroom,” I said thoughtfully.
Jim looked me in the eye and said very deliberately, “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that.”
The look on his face, in his eyes…I shivered. “No?” I meant it to be cool, disinterested, but my vocal cords betrayed me and it came out a squeak.
He held my gaze for a long moment before he smiled and his expression became mischievous. “Nah, it’s nice the way it is. I like the yellow.”
Maybe I’ll say no just to teach him a lesson. It’s not nice to torture your girlfriend.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, I could play around with this bit forever, but I'm letting it go now.
Same disclaimers apply. No infringement intended.
Same disclaimers apply. No infringement intended.
Chapter End Notes:
We're almost there...ass-kicking is imminent.
Thanks to all who have read and reviewed!
Thanks to all who have read and reviewed!
