It takes Jim almost two weeks to make it around to all the branches. He’s got it down to a science now: he goes to Camden Monday, Scranton Tuesday, Akron Wednesday, Buffalo Thursday, Utica Friday, then spends the weekend in Albany (Utica’s too dangerous; there’s the chance he could bump into Karen and her dermatologist boyfriend and run the risk of further awkwardness) and sees Albany the following Monday, hits Nashua Tuesday, Yonkers Wednesday, and is back in the corporate office on Thursday.
It’s enough driving to make anyone’s head spin, which is, again, why he thinks Jan may have gone insane doing this job. But she was always so concerned about deadlines and schedules, and when you have to drive for hours and hours every day, it’s better to just sit back and enjoy the ride. So what if there’s a big traffic jam? There’s nothing Jim can do about it, and so he just doesn’t worry about it. As long as that road gets him to where he’s going eventually, that’s all he cares about. And he can still work via Blackberry when traffic is at a standstill.
The road from Camden to Scranton was what he was on now, taking him to all-too-familiar territory. Except this time, instead of staying at his mom and dad’s for the night, he was going to be staying at Schrute Farms.
With Pam.
… And Dwight.
That was the eternal struggle he found himself in as he sat on I-476 North in bumper-to-bumper traffic: was the sheer horror of staying at Schrute Farms cancelled out by the fact that Pam would be there? Jim had been thinking about it for the last week and a half and still hadn’t come up with an answer.
To anyone who had seen the two of them laughing and playfully knocking knees during the Launch Party, it would’ve seemed as though there was going to be a launch of a whole different kind that night. And truthfully, stupidly, Jim had thought that too. Their normal banter had soared to new heights, and several times had been obvious flirtation, and it was enough to make Jim think that, maybe they were over all this stuff from the past. Maybe the stars were miraculously going to align and they would finally… well, finally anything was fine with him at that point.
But any thought of ‘finally’ was thrown out the window by the night’s end. Pam had excused herself to the bathroom, “to freshen up,” and was taking way too long. Jim wondered if she was having a hard time moving through the crowds or maybe there was a long line, but when he saw Karen rush over to Michael with a worried look on her face and gesturing toward the bathroom, he knew something worse had happened.
Pam had been in the bathroom the whole time, puking her guts out from drinking too much.
From then on, the night was centered around Michael insisting they take Pam to the hospital, Pam feeling so tired (and drunk) that she could barely walk, and Jim trying to deal with the lightning-quick change of circumstances while still retaining some composure in front of his bosses. By the time he finally saw she and Michael off, she was already passed out in the back of Michael’s car.
It had been a disaster.
At least, that’s what he had agonized over the entire weekend afterward. He’d blamed himself for how much she drank, and even had notions that she was never going to speak to him after what had happened. He figured that any chance he had with her, he had blown it that night.
Which was why he was so surprised Monday morning when he received an apology email from her!
Jim,
I’m so, so sorry about Friday. I mean, I thought I was fine, and then I stood up to go to the bathroom and I got real dizzy and everything just… went downhill from there. I heard that you and Michael even had to carry me to his car! How embarrassing.
Please let me make it up to you. I meant what I said about Schrute Farms:
http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g52842-d730099-Reviews-Schrute_Farms-Honesdale_Pennsylvania.html
Think of all the dirt we’d have on Dwight after this!! Let me know. Sorry again.
Pam
Jim was stunned. He was so sure she would’ve blamed him for what happened, and she didn’t.
Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought.
Which was all the more reason, he rationalized, to go to Schrute Farms with her. They’d have a ton to laugh at and make fun of, they’d get to really talk and reconnect, and he would get to spend the most time he’s had to spend with her since… well, since he left for Stamford. It didn’t make sense not to go.
So he emailed her back right away, and the plans were set in motion. Pam immediately told him that they’d stay in separate bedrooms, “so we can scope out as much of the farm as possible,” and Jim was secretly relieved with that decision. After what had almost happened at the Launch Party, he was beginning to have doubts about exactly what kind of relationship the two of them had. All those signals he thought she was sending him could’ve just been as easily brought on by alcohol, so not rushing into things seemed like the best possible plan.
Of course, once he saw her in person, sitting out on the front porch of the farm with Dwight and looking oh so thankful to see him pull up, he couldn’t help but want to chuck his sensible plan right out the window.
“Hey,” he waved to the both of them as he got out of his car.
“Hi!” she ran up and gave him a big hug, then whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s kinda creepy being here with just Dwight.”
“I can imagine,” Jim chuckled as he unloaded his overnight bag from the car. They made some small talk and walked together up to the front porch, where Dwight was sitting in his rocking chair and giving them his usual suspicious look.
However, he quickly remembered that he had to be accommodating, and so his demeanor changed from an air of superiority to that of a humble servant. “Welcome, weary traveler,” he greeted Jim, trying to be overly cordial. “Let’s get the two of you checked in, shall we? Please follow me.”
He led them into the living room of the farmhouse, decorated with everything from old photographs of family members long dead to samurai swords displayed proudly to the head of every animal that is legally (and illegally) hunted in Pennsylvania. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like the home of a sociopath, but when Jim and Pam saw it, their first reaction was to laugh. It was this kind of thing that was definitely going to bring them closer together.
Dwight directed them to sit on a couch as he took care of the clerical matters. “We have three rooms, each with a different theme,” he told them as he very officially opened a logbook.
“What are the themes?” Pam asked.
“America, Irrigation, and Nighttime.”
“Irrigation,” she quickly claimed.
“Nice,” Jim nodded, “I’ll go with Nighttime.”
Dwight scoffed, “Huh, figured you wouldn’t choose the patriotic room.”
“What was that?” Jim asked.
“Uh, I will put you down for Irrigation, and you for Nighttime.” He scribbled something into the log and quickly ran over to a foldout tabletop. Despite the fact that he knew Dwight was meticulous in all his work, Jim couldn’t help but be impressed at how legitimate everything was. Dwight continued, “Well then, do you have any special needs or dietary restrictions?”
“Yes,” Jim answered, “we will both be requiring a bedtime story.”
“No,” Dwight immediately vetoed.
“Not even Harry Potter?” Jim inquired with a smirk.
“No. Jim, come on.”
“But you promised,” Mose whined softly from the corner of the room.
“Mose, bags!” Dwight shouted, redirecting his cousin and, subsequently, startling Jim and Pam. ”Now!”
…
“All right, here we are,” said Dwight as he opened the door to Jim’s room. “This is the Nighttime room.”
Jim’s eyes immediately gravitated upward. “Dwight, you can’t be serious. There’s a hole in the ceiling.”
“Uh, excuse me, it is a sky light,” Dwight corrected him, “so at night you will be able to see the stars. That is the main feature of the Nighttime room.”
“And there’s only a thin wire screen here. What if it starts to rain?”
“Then I will get the tarp,” Dwight explained in a tone that implied that Jim was a five-year old. “Geez, such a worry-wart.”
“At least you don’t have a bunch of pipes sticking out of your walls,” Pam commented from the doorway as she looked around his room.
“Hey, the Irrigation room is a very special room. It was my Grandmutter’s favorite; she chose it as her last,” Dwight told them proudly, to which he only received looks of fear in response. He decided to ignore them. “So, I'll come get you before the table-making demonstration. And as of this morning, we are completely wireless here in Schrute Farms. But as soon as I find out where Mose hid all the wires, we'll get that power back on. All righty.”
Dwight made a prompt exit as Jim sat on one of the beds, bouncing back a little from the springs. He did remember Trip Advisor boasting that Schrute Farms made their own mattresses, and boy, did that fine craftsmanship show. He looked up to see Pam still inspecting the makeshift skylight and couldn’t help but tell her, “Mmm, I'd say one in six.”
“What?” she asked, obviously caught off-guard by the comment.
“Oh, I thought you asked me what our chances were in being murdered here tonight,” he grinned, to which she responded by pantomiming the infamous scene from Psycho.
“Except you know what?” she added. “This could be called… The Beets Motel.”
“The Beets Motel,” Jim echoed. “That is… wow.”
As they continued to joke and come up with other wacky nicknames for Schrute Farms, Jim couldn’t help but feel reassured that this was exactly what they needed: some time outside the realm of work just to catch up and share a laugh or two. That’s what she seemed to want, and for now, he supposed he could live with that. Of course, there were still the bigger issues that still needed to be discussed (and always seemed to be looming in the back of his mind), but those could wait. Why ruin the moment when they were perfectly happy right now?
…
Jim had gotten pretty used to city noises when he was trying to go to bed. So much so, that the sound of a car peeling out or shouting from the neighbors above him almost soothed him right to sleep. But farm noises were a whole different story. Every few minutes, he was jolted awake by a creak of the house or a tree branch hitting his window, and he had gotten to the point where he was just lying there, waiting for the next odd and unexpected noise to assault his ears. He was also extremely cold; he had not anticipated so much draft from the hole in the ceiling, and even a sweatshirt and three layers of blankets weren’t helping.
He wondered to himself as he lay there in the dark, how am I going to be able to put up with Michael on this much sleep?
The evening had proven to be everything and nothing like Jim had expected. He and Pam got to watch Dwight make a table, sampled homemade beet wine, and even helped spread manure in the fields. And while all of it was funny and absurd and banter abounded, there was no talk of anything deeper. Maybe it was just because Dwight was around the whole time, but Jim couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his head that, more and more, he needed some closure on the last year and a half. He knew he couldn’t avoid it much longer, but didn’t want to ruin what they had going for them now. And more importantly, didn’t know how to bring it up without impending awkwardness.
Just then, the strangest sound of all started.
“Thwap!... Thwap!... Thwap!...”
Jim groaned and turned on his side, trying to cover his ears with his pillow, but it didn’t help much. He had almost drowned out the noise when he heard something—someone familiar and comforting.
“Jim? You awake?”
He turned over to see Pam peeking through the door and instantly he transformed from annoyed to elated. “Yeah, I’m awake. What’s up?”
“I can’t sleep,” she told him, entering the room and sitting down on the bed adjacent to his. He tried desperately not to pay attention to the fact that she was clad only in a tank top and pajama pants as she continued, “I figured you couldn’t either.”
“Good guess,” he replied as he sat up and stretched a little.
“You’d think Dwight would put a lock on the outhouse door.”
“What?”
“That noise…” Pam gestured toward the window, “is the outhouse door in the wind.”
Jim shook his head, “Oh man. What century is this?”
“That’s what I said!” Pam giggled.
“I’m surprised you went to investigate at all. There was no way I was getting up.”
“That’s cause you’re a coward,” she smirked, then rubbed her bare arms. “Man, it’s cold in here.”
“Another lovely feature of the Nighttime room,” Jim deadpanned. “There’s an extra sweatshirt in my bag, if you want…”
“Oh, thanks,” she shivered as she pulled the Penn State sweatshirt from his duffel and swiftly put it on. He was almost mesmerized by her as she adjusted the sweatshirt, pulling her hair out from the collar and tugging at the sleeves, but then he had to mentally smack himself for ogling. He couldn’t go down that road, not until he knew what the heck they were doing with themselves. She smiled at him, her expression friendly but somewhat unsure, and asked, “So… think you’ll trade the city for the country after this?”
Jim scoffed, “Hardly. And I never thought I’d get used to living in New York.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah… But I really like it. It feels like… like I’m an ant in a giant colony. And if someone looked down at the colony, they would think I didn’t really matter, but I actually have a job to do and a part to play… you know, in the colony.”
“So philosophical,” Pam grinned. “You didn’t get that feeling here?”
“Well, here it was more like, you know, it’s a small town, everyone knows you… you’re not as…”
“Insignificant?”
Jim shrugged, “Kinda… I don’t know if that’s the right word. I just mean I don’t need a lot of unnecessary attention. Only from the people that matter.” They exchanged a glance, and suddenly Jim felt so utterly transparent under her gaze. She knew she was at the forefront of people in that category of those who mattered, and he knew that she knew. It was bordering on uncomfortable, so Jim did the first thing he could think of and changed the subject. “So what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed the hair and the nice sweaters and everything,” he said, and then immediately speculated, too stalkerish?
Pam blushed, “Oh. Well, I don’t know, I just… You know I’ve been trying to… work on myself, I guess, for a while, and I thought changing my look would help.”
“So this is Fancy New Beesly with fancy new sweaters, is that what you’re saying?” he teased, thankful that she hadn’t thought his previous comment was worthy of a restraining order.
“Yeah, something like that,” she smiled proudly. “I’m taking more art classes too. I’m taking one right now that’s like, computer animation. It’s kinda fun.”
“That’s great! I always knew you’d do well with that kind of stuff,” he complimented. “Do you think you want to do anything serious with it?”
“Not really… I mean, yeah, of course I’d want to, but… I don’t know if I’m good enough for all that.”
“That’s crazy. Of course you’re good enough,” Jim insisted. “You just need to be confident and show off your talent a little more.”
She nodded with an expression that seemed like she was taking his words to heart. “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about, um… going back to school. For art. Maybe graphic design.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t know. I have to apply still, but I just…” she paused for a long moment and looked up at him, and now it was her that seemed transparent. There was something in her eyes that was just so vulnerable, it made Jim want to go to her and hold her tight, just so she would know that, despite all the doubt coursing through her veins, the love he felt for her was real and it was a source of strength to build confidence from.
Of course, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be that bold. And so he did the next best thing and extended a friendly hand to her, and she took it.
“Your hands are freezing,” she remarked.
“Damn skylight.”
They exchanged a small smile as they sat there in the dark, the palms of their hands growing sweaty and warm, and suddenly the urge to just say what he wanted to say to her was overwhelming. It was practically unbearable, but he kept his mouth shut and just watched her. She was lost in thought, probably thinking about applying to art school, and despite the cold, he practically melted when he saw her bite her bottom lip ever so slightly.
Then she abruptly looked up at him, her expression full of resolve.
“Jim,” she started, “I really—”
But she was cut off by a loud, long moaning noise, and she groaned in frustration.
“Ugh, your turn,” she told him as she flopped down onto the bed, pulling the covers up around her. The hand that she had been holding was suddenly cold and clammy, and at that moment Jim was ready to murder whoever or whatever was making that noise. With an irate sigh, he got up and went out into the hall to track down the source of the moaning.
Turns out it was Dwight, although he never admitted to actually being the culprit, and therefore the murder would’ve been unjust. But Jim decided to try and laugh it off; Pam would probably think it was funny that Dwight was the one making those sounds, and it would steer the conversation back to neutral territory.
But when he got back to the Nighttime room, he realized there was no need for any more casual conversation topics, because Pam had already fallen asleep.
Now he felt real motivation to murder Dwight.
He sat down on his bed and sighed, wondering why neither of them could ever get the timing right. It seemed as though when he had all the time in the world to just tell her how he felt—how he had always felt, how he still felt—he never took it. And when he finally built up enough courage to say something, they were always interrupted. And so, as long as the vicious cycle continued, their friendship would always be laced with awkwardness and tension.
Jim exhaled heavily once more before lying down in his own bed and slowly but surely drifted off to sleep, trying not to think anymore about their dilemma. One thing was for certain: teaching Michael PowerPoint tomorrow would certainly be easier than trying to deal with this.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the long time in between updates!! I hope this especially lengthy chapter makes up for it. Special thanks to mah Co-Queen Pimp, Little Comment, for helping me work through this chapter and get what I really wanted to say nailed down. Enjoy!!
Chapter End Notes:
Please don’t throw garbage at me. Please?
