A Long, Strange Weekend
Ohio. Of all the places to run to, he had picked Ohio. The first week, Pam had cried every day. Not quite non-stop, but very close. Sure he had said he loved her, wanted to always be with her, but then he had left. Whatever happened to their engagement? Just some words in the rain and meaningless gestures now.
Jim was gone, and while Pam hoped for him to come back more than anything, her logical and realistic side knew he wasn't. Yes, he loved her, but he wasn't going to settle down with her after all.
Jim had bigger horizons than she did. No matter how many excuses she made for him, none of them rang true. Open horizons, restless heart, heartless jackass... None of them helped her to know why he had done it. Just packed up his things and left with a final kiss and a whispered, "I love you."
Pam stared at the bare walls of the house. No, he didn't love her, or he wouldn't have gone. Nobody could give her answers either. It wasn't another woman; there weren't problems between them; something had just changed. Maybe their familiarity had driven them apart rather than bringing them closer. Boredom had set in for him perhaps.
He finally got the girl, and then found the chase infinitely more interesting than the prize. Pam started crying again, opening another box of tissues. With all her heart she denied it, but that made too much sense for her to deny it.
Pam was boring when she wasn't forbidden to him. Walking over that fire did nothing for her; she had been the same old Pam, just managed to fool herself about it. Jim had hung on for over a year and just got bored finally.
The ring had been the first thing she put away. The next day she had tucked it into an envelope and put it away in a drawer.
And for two weeks, each morning, she stared glumly at the drawer.
How had everything gotten so messed up?
"Because sometimes they just do, Pam," her mother had told her. In that moment, Pam hated the entire world.
***
Poor Richard's had become a regular stop for her after work. At first it had been to avoid going home to an empty house. Then she tried to drown her sorrows, but discovered she didn't have a knack for it. Beer just wasn't her thing.
This Friday night was something different. Pam sat at the far end of the bar, ignoring everyone around her, and tried something new. "Can I get a screwdriver?" Hard liquor, even when mixed with juice, was a rare experience for her. She had never understood the appeal since it always smelled hideous.
Her doubts were washed away roughly half-way through the drink. This was something she could handle, and maybe she'd finally get drunk and be able to drown her sorrows. Maybe she'd finally be able to get to sleep for one night without thinking of Jim.
Jim Jim Jim.
Pam chugged the last of the glass. "Can I ask you something?" she said to the bartender in a stage whisper. "I want to get drunk, but I hate the taste of alcohol. Can you recommend something?"
With a knowing grin and an amused shake of his head, the bartender said, "I have the perfect drink for you."
A few moments later, Pam had a Collins glass sitting in front of her filled with something the color of tea. "What is it?"
"Long Island iced tea. Goes down easy until you're completely shit-faced. Enjoy."
Pam was a little stunned by the bartender's candor, but decided this was a time when she was allowed to let herself go. And indeed the Long Island iced teas went down easy, one after another, until she was completely shit-faced.
The bartender refused to serve her any more drinks, and Pam was almost angry over the fact. She attempted to snap at the man with indignity and cut him down to size with biting insults, but couldn't put her thoughts into words.
"Pam?"
She turned on the barstool and very nearly fell off. "D-wight? Why is everything so wiggly?" She recognized Dwight, but further details were lost in a spinning haze.
"Are you drunk?"
"No! He won't let me!" she snapped and pointed at the bartender, or at least where she thought he was, then started giggling. "I feel like I'm floating... Jim left me you know?"
"I was aware of that. We were all informed of his leaving." And conversely, her staying.
"It really sucks. A lot. I loved him and now I love Long Island iced teas!" Pam whooped and held up her empty glass, tottering dangerously on the stool.
"I believe you are drunk."
Pam laughed, her cheeks bright red. "Not enough! I'm hungry. Are you hungry, Dwight? I want nachos." She stood, wobbling dangerously. "Buy me some nachos." Her hand took hold of his arm in a death claw. "Nachos, Dwight. Nachos."
"I am not going to buy you nachos. You need to go home and--"
"Nachos!" she suddenly yelled, and dropped the glass at his feet. It shattered, bringing attention to the confrontation. "I want nachos!" Pam took a step, collapsed into Dwight, and sent them both careening into a table. Drinks were spilled, and much yelling ensued with a near fist-fight breaking out.
"Get her out of here!" the bartender yelled.
"I am not her--" Dwight tried to explain while attempting to support the limp Pam.
"GET OUT!"
Pam's legs moved a little, but not enough to propel her, so Dwight ended up dragging her out of the bar. "My nachos," she said feebly, her head resting on his chest.
Dwight exhaled through his nose, annoyed, and shook his head. "I thought better of you Pam."
"So did I," she mumbled, clutching at him.
"Why you would reduce yourself to this over Jim Halpert. It just doesn't make sense."
"Nothing makes sense. Am I dead yet?"
"No. And I am taking you home. Do not vomit in my car."
Pam groaned, and allowed him to load her into his car.
The drive back to her home helped a little; with the window down, the cool air soothed her nausea, and she felt slightly less drunk. Seeing the dark house as they pulled up didn't help though. She would be alone again.
Then he was pulling her out of the car, and the dark doorway loomed. Dark and empty and alone and Jimless and loveless and horrible. A nightmare, and she couldn't get her feet to work so she could run away. She couldn't get her fingers to work to let go of Dwight's neck. He was dragging her into the abyss.
The door opened, and he pulled her inside, while she was unable to fight at all. Alone against this horror and defenseless.
"You're home now. I need to leave." Dwight tried to unlock Pam's hands from behind his neck with little success. "You have to let go."
"No no no." Pam leaned against him, trapping his arm. "I don't want you to go. Jim's gone; I don't want to be here alone." Before he could shrug free, she stood on her toes and kissed him, catching him by surprise. This was no friendly peck on the cheek; her lips were pressed firmly against his.
With his eyes wide, Dwight pulled back and stared at her. "Pam, what do you think--"
She covered his mouth with her fingertips. "Shh." Her eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, and she stank of alcohol. "It won't be so bad, with me."
Dwight took her hand in his, and sighed. Without thinking, he held it to his chest, like they were slow dancing. "Pam, you don't want to do this."
Pam slid the hand that hand been previously clinging to his neck down his arm and grabbed his hand with both her own. "C'mere," she whispered, and fell back on to the couch, pulling him with her.
Staggering, then carefully falling over the arm of the couch to not crush her, Dwight scrutnized Pam. "I'm only staying to ensure your safety," he insisted, even while he was half-crouched over her. "In case you choke on your own vomit, or slip in the bathroom, or try to use any power tools."
With strangely sure fingers, Pam reached up and removed his glasses, then tossed them aside. "I don't have any power tools. You're lying." Then she started unbuttoning her blouse. "You want me, or you'd have moved." She grinned as she wriggled out of her shirt and dropped it to the floor.
Her bra was very un-Pam-like, and Dwight very much wanted to avert his eyes. It was unseemly to take advantage of an inebriated woman, even just to look at the black lace covering her breasts. "I d--"
But her arm was on the back his neck, pulling him to her so she could kiss him, and her other hand was pulling at his shirt. When it was clear he wasn't going anywhere, Pam released his neck to pull his shirt up and off. "Don't leave me," she whispered again, and kissed him hard.
There was a moment of hesitation on his part, but then he returned the kiss with an energy to match hers. He was only a man after all.
*** TBC
Story Notes:
I saw this idea executed differently, and decided I wanted to give it my own beefier treatment. I am happy to answer any questions, public or private, about it or my writing. I'm looking for some other people out there who share my warped mentality and can appreciate this for what it is: a big old 'WTF how could you do that'.
Auto-Generated Disclaimer: Characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers, including NBC and Greg Daniels. No copyright infringement is intended.
Auto-Generated Disclaimer: Characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers, including NBC and Greg Daniels. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This seemed an appropriate day to release this. I didn't write it as a chaptered story, but really wanted to get it out while it was still April 1 (or at this point really close to the 1st). Expect the rest to be released very quickly. Please enjoy.
Chapter End Notes:
Comments/reviews appreciated.
