Bohemia

Authors and actors and artists and such
Never know nothing, and never know much.
Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney
Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney.
Playwrights and poets and such horses' necks
Start off from anywhere, end up at sex.
Diarists, critics, and similar roe
Never say nothing, and never say no.
People Who Do Things exceed my endurance;
God, for a man that solicits insurance!

-- Dorothy Parker

She loves that he thinks Art Brut is just a band.

It’s a funny realization to have when stumbling out of a bar with friends at an obscene hour, but she has it all the same. She smiles and twists the ring on her finger, then reaches into her pocket for her cell phone.

Alex and Paul begin arguing loudly about Kandinsky again and she waves off their attempts to have her pick a side. She fumbles with the buttons on her phone until she finally manages to reach Jim in her contacts list and presses the call button.

“PAM!” Helene screams. She rushes over, her heels clacking loudly on the sidewalk. “I think that… I hate Kandinsky!”

Pam laughs even though she’s not sure why (but she’s pretty sure it’s either the sake or the wine). She intertwines her arm with Helene’s and whispers, “I’m - I’m calling my fi… my Jim.”

“Aww,” Helene says. She bites her lip and it looks like she might cry. “That’s cute. Really cute. You’re a drunk-dialer!”

“Who’s getting drunk dialysis?” Paul yells.

“Nobody!” Pam replies.

“She’s drunk-dialing!” Helene adds.

Alex spreads his arms and exclaims, “Kandinsky was a drunk-dialer!”

“Kandinsky didn’t have a phone!” Paul says. “They weren’t abstract enough for him!”

Pam laughs and remembers she’s made a phone call. She lifts the phone to her ear and says, “Hello? Hello? Jim, are you - are you there? I’m… is this a voicemail? Answer your phone, jerk. Yeah, I called you a jerk. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Paul grabs the phone from her and puts it to his ear. “Hello? Is this Pam’s financier? Sell! No! Buy! I don’t… diversify her stock portfolio! She’s had so many beers!”

Pam grabs the phone back. “You are such a dork! Shots!”

“Okay, so shots is why you’re drunk,” Paul says. “Potatoes, tomatoes.”

“I’m not drunk,” Pam replies, even though she’s sure she is.

Alex laughs and says in a high-pitched voice, “You are such a dork! I’m Pam Beesly!”

“Okay, I do not sound like that,” Pam replies.

Paul tuts. “You can take the girl out of Philly…”

“Scranton,” Pam corrects.

“It’s all Greek to me,” Paul says and shrugs.

“Sorry we can’t all ‘pahk the cah at Hahvad yahd,’” Helene says and sticks out her tongue.

“Are you mimicking me?” Paul asks, pretending to be offended.

“No, she was mocking you,” Alex tells him.

“Ooh, Greek,” Pam says. “Let’s go to that Greek diner!”

“Welcome to five minutes ago,” Helene says with a laugh.

Pam waves that off and says, “Stuffed zucchini flowers. Come on.”

“Actually, that does sound good,” Helene agrees.

“Who eats zucchini at three in the morning?” Alex asks.

Pam and Helene both raise their hands.

“Pam, are you still on the phone?” Helene asks and laughs again.

Pam looks at the phone in her hand and laughs. “Yes!”

She puts the phone to her ear and says, “Hello! Sorry! I don’t… remember why I called, but that’s… something about music? I don’t know. Call me later, okay? I love you!”

She puts the phone back in her pocket without hanging it up.

The next afternoon, she’ll laugh about this with Jim and apologize for the forty-three minutes of silence on his voicemail.