Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
yada yada yada
He and Pam had nearly made it out the door on this Casual Friday afternoon when Michael caught them.
“Hey Pam, could I talk to you in my office for a few minutes before you go? Sorry, Jimbo,” Michael said in a very business-like voice.
They shared a quick glance of dread before they turned to face their boss. Pam forced a smile and responded reluctantly, “Sure, Michael.” She turned back to Jim and said, “You go ahead. It might take you awhile at the oil change place anyway, and it won’t take me long at the paint store. I can get dinner. What do you want?”
“Your call, new salesperson,” he shrugged good naturedly and grinned. “Just something good.”
With that, he gave her a quick kiss and left her to deal with Michael. She’d had plenty of practice with that, anyway. Their decision to take two separate cars today and divide the errands this afternoon had turned out well for him, he thought smugly.
Jim glanced at the clouds building in the west, but smiled as he cranked the starter on his Saab. How amazingly well had this day actually worked out? It had been, he thought as he pulled out into traffic, the weirdest day he’d ever spent at Dunder Mifflin, and that was saying a lot. The relief of having Pam (and he had to admit – Michael) back at work had quickly been erased when the infighting began, and it freaked him out that he’d spent most of the day playing board games with Creed. Getting beaten, no less. Badly. At least he thought he’d helped a little in Michael’s decision to keep Pam, and he was pleased with himself for that.
He was genuinely excited for Pam. That Pratt business had set her confidence back more than she let on, and although quitting Dunder Mifflin with Michael was impulsive - and okay, a little crazy - he was happy she’d taken the plunge again toward something more fulfilling. But it needed to turn out well this time and, against all odds, it had.
As he hit his fifth green light in a row, his mind wandered to his recent concern for Pam. She had been so stressed out. When it sunk in what a financial strain her new “job” decision had caused, she spent a lot of time worrying. He knew she felt like she’d put him between a rock and a hard place with Charles which she had, he conceded to himself. Being rejected by Walmart hadn’t helped her stress level and their financial concerns had complicated the wedding planning, too. Sure, the money was tight, but frankly, Jim’s biggest worry lately was that Pam was worrying too much.
There was proof that his concern for her wasn’t paranoia. When she went in for her annual Ob/Gyn visit last month, they’d found her blood pressure was way too high, and insisted she stop her birth control pills, despite her protests that it was all due to her work situation.
Jim sided firmly with the doctor on this one because they had scared the bejesus out of him talking about strokes and blood clots and lots of other things he surely did not want for Pam. It wasn’t worth the chance and it wasn’t that much trouble to use an alternative, after all. In a month or so she’d go back in and have her pressure checked, so maybe she could restart them then.
It did make sense to him that it was stress related. On top of the work and financial concerns, neither of them had been getting enough sleep. His brother was coming to visit in three weeks, and they’d been working like mad to get his old bedroom fixed into a decent guest room. Pam had worked really hard repainting – she seemed anxious for everything to look as nice as possible.
Jim spotted the sign and pulled into the Pennzoil Instant Oil Change. He had to insist three times to the mechanic that all he wanted was a basic oil change, and that he did, in fact, not want to “take advantage of the twenty four point lube and fluids package.” The humorless mechanic didn’t seem to appreciate his “That’s what she said,” comment – where was Beesly when he needed her, he thought with a chuckle.
A gust of the damp, heavy air rearranged his hair as he walked in to take a seat in the lobby. He picked up a ragged Sports Illustrated from the table, noticing the nicks and abrasions on his long fingers. Jim’s hands had taken a beating with all the work on the house. After Pam repainted the guest room, they’d pulled up the carpet and most recently he’d been spending every spare minute sanding the hardwood floor – a dusty, tedious job. He was very happy that it was just about done. He’d finish by midmorning tomorrow for sure and then they could put on the polyurethane. Once it dried, they could replace the quarter rounds and voila, the room was done. Which was a good thing – not much time to spare. Today was the 30th. The company picnic was the weekend of the 15th, and they were expecting Tom on the 22nd, so that just left one more free weekend after this one – and they still had a lot of jobs they wanted to get done.
An excited weatherman on the TV in the corner pulled Jim’s attention to the screen. Rain and storms were predicted on and off all weekend – no surprise from the way the sky looked. That was okay, he thought. They’d be working inside anyway so it didn’t matter, and maybe next weekend it would be nice for the outside jobs they had left. He returned his attention to the magazine, but found himself wondering what Pam was going to pick up for dinner. He hoped she got something good, because he was starving.
******
Pam sat down heavily into the driver’s seat of her car. She slammed the door shut and fired up the engine, roughly yanking the car into gear.
Jim said I was shrill. She wasn’t sure why it upset her so much. When Michael started talking in his office, it hadn’t taken Pam very long to realize that he just wanted to be thanked again for choosing her as a salesperson over Ryan. She thanked him sincerely, because she was honestly shocked he’d picked her over Ryan. She’d wondered how much Jim had to do with his decision, so she asked. Michael maintained the decision was entirely his own, but as they finished, out of the blue Michael had blurted out, “You know, Jim said you were shrill.” And then Michael had laughed. It was that leery, obnoxious, dirty little boy laugh. She felt as if someone had slapped her and sting of the words lingered. She felt like her best friend had talked about her behind her back. Because apparently he had.
Pam stewed as she drove. She’d often marveled at how even tempered Jim seemed, how he never got angry at her even when she did things he probably should get angry about. She’d worried that maybe he still wasn’t completely secure in the relationship, even after all this time. Turns out he’d been storing the complaints about her many faults in his mind, and then griping about them to other people when he got an opportunity. To Michael Scott for Godsakes.
Jim had been stressed lately, she tempered her irritation as she caught another red light. Of course Jim wouldn’t admit it to her, but the whole Charles Minor thing had been really hard for him, especially after she quit. They couldn’t afford for him to get fired after that, and though he tried not to make a big deal of it, she knew that had been a lot of pressure - pressure she had unthinkingly helped pile onto him. She had to acknowledge that. He’d been staying up late nearly every night working like a mad man on the house for the past few weeks, preparing for his brother’s visit. Plus he always got up to see her off on those early morning pickups from Michael. A horn blared behind her, and she realized the light was green. "Oh suck on it!" she retorted outloud to an empty car.
She continued to brood as she inched through the traffic. Dammit Jim, “Shrill?!?” Jim had told Michael – MichaelbigmoutheffingScott that she, his fiancé and best friend, was shrill. She was furious. No, she was past furious, she was hurt, and this had totally ruined what should have been a really great day for her.
She tried to push her disappointment aside as she whizzed the Yaris into the parking lot and hurried into the paint store to buy the polyurethane. They were making progress on the house. By tomorrow, Jim would be through sanding the boys’ bedroom (what Jim still called the room that he and his two brothers had shared through childhood) and they would be able to paint on the protective floor coating.
Pam perused the paint color samples as she waited for her turn at the counter. She’d painted the “boys” bedroom a pastel shade of green, and she was pleased with how it had turned out – the room was going to look great when the floor was done.
She planned to do Larrisa’s old room in a powder blue, but they hadn’t even pulled the carpet up in there yet. Once they got the boys’ room done they’d have a useable guest room, and they could finish the smaller room when they had time. With her new job, they’d have more funds available, too, she thought positively.
No more “Pam the receptionist” for her. She vowed that Dwight’s condescending, “just a secretary” label would be a thing of the past. She was thrilled and determined, but also a little scared at the prospect of new responsibility. She knew Jim believed in her but…wait...Maybe Jim was just saying that he thought she could do it. Maybe he really had doubts and was worried she’d be incompetent and was in over her head and…. No Pam, he doesn’t think that. You’re blowing this all out of proportion. It was one remark. she thought.
“Can I help you m’am?” interrupted her thoughts. She took a deep breath and stepped to the counter to buy the polyurethane. The nice paint man carried the buckets out to the car for her, and as she headed home, she tried to cheer herself. She was now a salesperson at Dunder Mifflin, a real company. She wasn’t a receptionist any more. She was engaged to a wonderful man whom she loved very much…who…had…told their boss she was shrill. Jesus, Halpert. She knew it shouldn’t bother her this much. But it did, she admitted, and she blinked hard as she pulled into their driveway in a foul humor. No sooner had she put the car in park than she realized she’d forgotten the food entirely.
“Well shit, “ she spat at nobody in particular, and headed right back out without turning off the motor. To go get food, of course. Of course I should go get the food, she grumbled to herself. I’m the secretary. The shrill secretary. Her tires squealed a little as she started back down their road and in a couple of blocks she was back into the horrible, congested traffic. This was going to take forever.
*****
Jim pulled into the driveway and was surprised to find that Pam’s car wasn’t there yet. Michael surely hadn’t kept her that long. He checked his phone to make sure there wasn’t a message. Nope. Oh well, he thought, who knows with Michael, or maybe the traffic out toward the paint store was bad.
His stomach growled loudly as he changed into some grubby clothes, so he grabbed a beer and a can of peanuts and headed up to the boys’ bedroom. He opened the window wide, peering at the sky to see the thickening clouds. No rain yet. He’d leave the window open as long as he could to keep the dust down.
He’d have to be careful though, he thought. If the wood got wet now it might cause the floor to buckle and all his work would be for nothing. He’d have to start over after it dried – and that was the best case scenario - sometimes water completely ruined a wood floor. Yup, he’d be sure to watch the clouds carefully. He took a swig of beer and placed the cap back on top to keep the dust out. Time to get to work – and this time he’d even remembered gloves for his battered hands, he congratulated himself.
Jim pulled on his mask and goggles, fired up the sander, and soon the bedroom air was filled with swirls of fine sawdust.
Story Notes:
This is another attempt by me to imagine a backstory that makes Jim the way he is - "Jim Halpert on a Couch," maybe?
Author's Chapter Notes:
In this chapter, Jim and Pam have very different ideas of how the day went, and a storm is building. The title is taken from the Billie Holliday song.
Many thanks to NanReg and Vampiric Blood for their help. Someday I'll learn how to avoid clunky sentences.
Many thanks to NanReg and Vampiric Blood for their help. Someday I'll learn how to avoid clunky sentences.
Chapter End Notes:
This chapter was largely setting the stage for the rest of the story, so please be patient if you think not much is happening at first. The story should be a total of three chapters.
