(Roughly three months later)
For over a year now, Jim would wander alone through the dark hallways of his house. For over a year now, Jim would be lucky to have slept for at least two hours. For over a year now, Jim was haunted by his regrets.
Sometimes he would take his anger out on others, and today was that day. He was tired. He was in pain. Lastly, he was sick of blaming himself for everything that had happened. Although, in the back of his head, he knew that it was his own fault that all of this had happened. But sometimes, on his selfish days, as he likes to call them, he would lash out on others. He would pick out their faults and expose them.
“You haven’t told Michael about you not being able to have a baby yet, did you?” Jim asked Holly coldly the week after he finished his Last Will and Testament.
“No…” she said guiltily.
“Well, that’s pretty cold of you,” Jim said, laughing humorlessly. “Is it because you’re scared that he’ll leave you?”
Holly’s face had turned white. Jim couldn’t tell whether it happened over fear or anger. It was probably both.
“What?” she asked.
“You said that Michael wants nothing more than his own kids,” Jim replied, his tone still cold—unrecognizable to even him. “I think you’re being selfish…”
“What’s wrong with you?” Holly asked, obvious to Jim that she was trying to keep composed.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jim asked. “You’re wasting a poor guy’s time by not telling him that you can’t have kids. Right now, Michael’s sitting in his office, most likely thinking about you, and your futures together, and wondering about kids. And you’re wasting the fucker’s time by not telling him.”
“You’re the one that told me to…”
“I never told you to waste his time,” Jim laughed. “I told you to go out and find a nice guy. As in, find a nice guy to give you a good fuck. I mean, might as well find a good fuck, you can’t get pregnant anyway…”
And with that, Holly’s face twisted into fury.
“Who the hell do you think you are, lecturing me about wasting someone’s time?!” she demanded, her face turning from white to red. “You’ve been sitting there, reminiscing over your wife, while you’ve got something growing in your brain that could potentially kill you. You’re the one that’s wasting my fucking time!”
“Well, at least my dead wife has a better chance of getting knocked up than you, you barren bitch!” Jim lashed out.
“What the fuck is wrong with you today, Jim?” Holly asked, trying to calm herself down.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Jim replied. “I’m just saying, you’re giving that guy false hope!”
Just then, Holly’s office door flung open.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Michael demanded, looking from Jim to Holly. “I heard you yelling from down the hall, Holly. Is everything okay?”
“Is this Michael?” Jim asked, pointing up at Michael. “You Michael?”
“Yeah…who the hell are you?”
“Oh, I’m Jim,” Jim replied. “Did you know that Holly can’t have kids?”
“What are you talking about?” Michael asked, turning to face Holly. “What is he talking about?”
“Dr. Flax, I called security,” Phyllis said breathlessly from Holly’s doorway.
“God damn it…” Holly muttered, as tears began to form in her eyes.
“You want to know what I’m talking about?” Jim asked Michael. “Holly, your girlfriend, can’t have kids. She has one fucked up uterus, which means she can’t have kids.”
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY OFFICE!” Holly screamed as Michael looked at her in disbelief, muttering, “Why didn’t you tell me that you can’t have kids?”
Holly ignored him, focusing on Jim first.
“YOU DESERVE TO DIE, YOU NOSTALGIC SON OF A BITCH!” she screamed. “Look at you! You’re fucking pathetic! You’re constantly feeling sorry for yourself, sitting there all self-loathing…GUESS WHAT?! PAM IS DEAD, AND SHE’S NOT COMING BACK! AND YOU’RE GOING TO GO THE SAME WAY YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!”
Jim laughed to himself, although there was nothing funny about this. He already started to regret lashing out at Holly. After all, she didn’t deserve it…
“You know what?” he asked, as a tall, elderly African-American security guard rushed in through the door. “Fuck you, Holly. And Michael, if you really want kids, don’t waste your time with her. She’s only gonna fuck up your life…”
Jim brushed past the security guard, and made his way out of Holly’s office, hearing a sob issue from Holly before he slammed the door.
*****
He flung his money at the cab driver, and quickly stormed up his driveway, ignoring the dizziness and pain in his head. He slammed the front door, and plopped himself down on his coach. He felt his body shaking, and before he knew it, Jim was sobbing.
The tears fell freely down his face. He didn’t even bother wiping them off. All he felt was a strong wave of regret. Holly did absolutely nothing to deserve that kind of treatment from him. She was his only true friend…why did he have to do that? If he wanted to blow some steam off, why didn’t he just yell into his pillow? He reached into his pocket, and dug out his cell phone. Scrolling down his phonebook, he stopped at Holly’s name. Her cell phone number blinked as he pushed the send button. The dial tone rang, sending tiny waves of pain into Jim’s brain. When it rang the seventh time, Holly’s voicemail answered:
“You’ve reached Dr. Flax, I apologize that I’m unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
beep
“It’s Jim. Listen, I know that sorry doesn’t do any justice, but I am truly sorry for what happened. I could easily blame my tumor, but the thing is, it’s nowhere near my frontal lobe,” Jim said. “Please…I need you, Holly. Please call back…I’m so sorry…”
*****
Last Week
*****
“You’re losing weight, man,” Tom said.
“Only ten pounds,” Jim said. “It happens…”
“Why didn’t you just get the surgery?” asked Tom, surveying Jim’s sickly appearance. “You look like shit.”
“Well…” Jim smiled. “You look like John Goodman’s shit, so…as always, I look better than you.”
“Dick,” Tom laughed. “But seriously, when are you getting the surgery?”
“I don’t know, Tom,” Jim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Soon…”
“It’s been a month, man…I know you’ve lost Pam—”
“I said I’ll get it soon,” Jim interrupted. “Dude, don’t you want to go home? You’ve been here for the last two weeks, and Amy’s probably stressed with Vanessa and work…”
“She’ll be fine,” snapped Tom.
“Hey,” Jim said, pushing his wheelchair forward. “Dad’s Shelby came in three months ago, did I tell you?”
Tom shook his head. “No, Jim…we need to talk about your fucking tumor, man…before it kills you.”
“It’s not serious right now,” Jim said. “I still have plenty of time left. Come on, I haven’t seen the Shelby since it got here.”
Tom scratched his bald scalp, and finally took the handles of Jim’s wheelchair, pushing him into the garage.
“It’s under the tarp,” Jim said. Tom walked over to the covered car, and pulled the tarp off. Underneath, there was a rusty old car.
“You still haven’t restored it yet?”
“I started to,” explained Jim. “And you know…shit happened.”
“Yeah…” said Tom, running his fingers along the side of the car. “Man, remember when dad got this? He said it was our project…too bad we never finished it.”
“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “Listen, why don’t you take it back with you? I could have it shipped out to L.A. for ya…”
Tom shook his head.
“No, dude…Dad left this for you to finish,” he said. “So hurry up, and get your ass better…”
“My ass couldn’t get any better than this,” Jim joked. “You’re just jealous of my sculpted glutes…”
“Damn it, Jim! Quit making jokes,” Tom scolded. “You really need that fucking surgery, man. Amy, Pete, the kids…we’re all worried about you. I know that Pam just died, but fuck, man. You gotta think for yourself now…”
“Tom,” said Jim in an authoritative tone. “Shut the fuck up. I told you, I’m getting the fucking operation.”
“When?”
“Soon…”
*****
Jim was down on his knees, gently caressing the tiny bump on Pam’s stomach.
“Who’s in there?” he asked the bump. “Is it the future Miss America? Or is it the future center for the Celtics?”
“You’re such a loser,” Pam laughed.
“Did you not read the books, Pam? They said that it’s good to talk to the baby while it’s still in the womb…”
“I know, but ‘future Miss America?’ Do you really want our kid to be in that degrading competition?”
“When did you become a feminist?” Jim smiled up at Pam, and then down to her stomach. “I heard your heartbeat today, kiddo, and wow…you’re already doing your old man proud…”
Jim got up off his knees, and gave Pam a kiss.
“So what do you think it’s gonna be?” he asked her. “A boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know,” Pam grinned. “Does it really matter though?”
“No,” Jim beamed. “It really doesn’t. So hey, if it’s a girl, I already have the perfect present for her. Wait here…”
Jim quickly ran up the stairs into his office, and pulled out a velvet box. He hurried back down into the living room, skipping every other step, and opened the box for Pam.
“My mom’s bracelet,” Jim explained. “It’s been in her family for years…she told me that she always wanted a daughter, but she ended up with three tall boys. She gave it to me before she died because I was the girly one in the family; told me to give it to my own daughter one day…”
Pam held up the gold bracelet, examining it.
“Wow…it’s beautiful,” she smiled. “They don’t make them like this anymore, that’s for sure…”
“Yeah,” Jim agreed, staring at the bracelet.
“What if it’s a boy?” asked Pam.
“Then we try again for a daughter, silly…”
“What if we only have boys?”
“Why must you crush my dreams?” Jim chuckled. “Well, Tom and Amy have a daughter…I’ll give it to them to give to her. It should stay in the family…”
*****
It was Jim’s twenty-first birthday, his second older brother Pete had come to California to celebrate it with him. Pete kept pushing more and more drinks into Jim, exclaiming, “It’s all about making mistakes, buddy!”
After two straight hours of downing shots of vodka, rum, and tequila, Jim was, to say the least, wasted. As Pete helped Jim walk back to his apartment, Jim began to feel a nostalgic feeling of guilt.
“Pete,” Jim slurred. “Do you think it’s my fault that dad killed himself?”
“Come on, Jimmy…don’t think like that,” Pete said. “Dad was upset about mom, remember?”
“Yeah…but I said a lot of fucked up things that night…” Jim sniffed, feeling the tears starting to form.
“Man, don’t cry on your birthday, you pussy,” Pete scolded. “Listen, we were all angry at Dad. Shit happens…it wasn’t your fault. Now give me your keys, because I’m not reaching into your pocket. I might touch your vagina…”
Jim let out a sob and laugh, and handed the keys to Pete. They slowly walked up the stairs to Jim’s floor, only stopping so that Jim can vomit in the second floor hallway. When they finally reached Jim’s apartment, Pete threw Jim across the room onto his bed.
“Ow, faggot!” Jim cried, rubbing his forehead.
“Wow…you still have this?” Pete asked, ignoring Jim. He picked up a book off of Jim’s coffee table. “Dad loved this book…”
“Yeah, I know,” Jim moaned. “It’s a good book.”
“…my favorite,” Pete said, flipping through the pages.
*****
“Damn it, Pete,” said Jim, dragging Pete aside. “Why did you bring P.J.? You know I don’t want him to see me like this…”
“I thought he’d be able to guilt trip you into getting the surgery,” Pete smiled.
“I told you, I’m going to get it,” Jim repeated for the thousandth time.
“You’ve been saying that months, you douche nozzle,” said Pete, nudging Jim. “Go talk to P.J., he’s been really interested in the piano lately. He reminds me of you…always playing the same song over and over till he gets it right.”
“He’s only four, and he’s already playing songs?”
“It’s mostly Mary had a Little Lamb and Hot Cross Buns,” Pete laughed.
“But still…” said Jim, walking over to the piano room with Pete, seeing a little boy with brown hair playing his piano. “That’s impressive…”
*****
“Hey, Holly?”
“Hey, Jim?” Holly mimicked.
“Are things with Michael good?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, they’re solid. He took me to his mom’s for Thanksgiving,” she said. “Why?”
“Do you see a future with this guy?”
“Like a marriage?”
Jim nodded.
“I don’t know, I’ve only been seeing him for about two months…”
“Yeah, but you guys are already moving in together,” Jim said.
“That’s true,” Holly nodded. “Yeah, if the time is right, and he asks, I’d say yes.”
“Good,” Jim smiled. “That’s good…”
“Why?”
“Well, is there anything special you’d like to do with Michael? Like go to Space Camp or Disneyland?”
Holly laughed.
“Space Camp would be fun…but…” Holly blushed. “If I tell you something, promise not to laugh?”
“I promise…”
“Well…I imagine us all old, like in our seventies. Michael’s wearing shorts that are tucked up too high and a fanny pack, and I’m wearing a big visor and even bigger sunglasses, traveling around the world…you know, Japan, Rome, Korea, Australia, Paris…places like that,” Holly admitted shyly.
“Why are you in your seventies?”
“I imagine that’ll be around the time we retire,” Holly replied. “We can’t take too long of a vacation because our patients become attached. And they’ll probably leave, and find other psychiatrists, and there goes our income.”
“I see,” said Jim. “So you really love Michael?”
“Yeah,” Holly smiled. “I really do…”
*****
They stood in a field of gold and green. The strong breeze blew their hair wildly about, tickling their faces. The two that stood here were different from other newlyweds. While other couples chose to honeymoon in Hawaii or the Bahamas, Jim and Pam chose Glasgow, Scotland for the meadows, architecture, and the music.
“I love it here,” Pam breathed into Jim’s ear. “Everything is so…”
“Perfect?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Pam smiled. “I mean, look at all of that.”
Pam waved her hand out in front of her to the trees covered in fog.
“It’s gorgeous,” she crooned. “I mean…wow!”
“I know…”
“When I die,” began Pam before Jim interrupted.
“Wow, you’re already thinking about dying?” he laughed. “Am I already boring you that much?”
“Meh…a little bit,” Pam joked. “But seriously…when I die, I want my ashes scattered around here.”
“Well, you’re not going to die for about another million years,” Jim said. “And that’s a promise…”
“Jim, you’re ruining the moment…”
“I’m ruining the moment?! You’re the one talking about dying…on our honeymoon, for the love of god…”
“I’m sorry,” said Pam. “That is kind of morbid, isn’t it?”
“Just a lot, Beesly,” smiled Jim.
“It’s Halpert now, stupid,” Pam giggled.
“Right, I forgot,” Jim said, kissing the top of Pam’s head. “Halpert…”
“You want to go to the pubs and try some haggis?”
“Um…I’ll go to the pubs for beers and drinks. You can try the haggis,” Jim chuckled. “Weirdo…”
In the event that I become mentally or physically incapacitated, I claim and demand the right that I die a natural, dignified death. Let it be known in no uncertain terms that I refuse to be kept alive by artificial means.
I leave the rest of my belongings and fortune to the American Brain Tumor Association.
In witness whereof, I hereunto set my hand and seal to Scranton, Pennsylvania, this 4th day of December, 2009.
James Andrew Halpert
Jim printed out the document, and handed it to his lawyer, his business partner Ryan Howard for them to sign as the notary and the witness.
“All right, Mr. Halpert,” said Mr. Clemmons, Jim’s lawyer, folding up Jim’s Will. “That’s all.”
“Thank you,” Jim said, shaking the man’s hand, and watching him leave the room.
“You better not die on me, man,” Ryan said, getting up. “Because I need to kick your ass for making me come to this shitty town once you’re better.”
Jim chuckled, and shook Ryan’s hand.
“I’ll try my best,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem,” said Ryan. “Let me know when you decide to get the surgery. I’ll send you some flowers and shit.”
“All right,” Jim laughed. “Later, man…”
“Take care of yourself, Halpert.”
*****
Jim watched the flames dancing around in his gas fireplace, his living room glowing red and orange. I Can Feel a Hot One by Manchester Orchestra softly filled the room. Jim listened to the sound of the music, felt the vibration of the bass. He closed his eyes, regret still flooding over him as if he was caught in a flood. The feeling of sorrow coldly swept up to his chest, leaving his heart heavy, his lungs feeling as if they were ready to collapse.
His doorbell rang, surprising him. Jim glanced at the clock sitting on top of the mantle of the fireplace. 8:23 P.M….
He walked slowly to the front door, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.
“Probably carolers,” he muttered, unlocking the door.
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Holly looking up at him. Her eyes bloodshot, her face white, shivering, looking as if she had aged ten years.
“Can I stay here?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” Jim said, stepping aside. “You alright?”
“Michael wants to…he needs some time to think,” Holly breathed, her voice no louder than a whisper. “I didn’t want to be alone again…”
“God…” Jim sighed. “Holly, I’m so sorry…about everything.”
Holly let out a sob, and wrapped her arms around Jim’s skinny, frail body. Jim gently ran his hand down Holly’s hair.
“Hey,” he whispered, still embracing Holly. “I’m really sorry about today. I’ve just been…I don’t know. Sometimes I get tired of being angry at myself, so I take it out on—”
“It’s fine, Jim,” Holly said into Jim’s shoulder, sounding slightly muffled. “I should be the one that’s apologizing.”
“Everything you said was true,” Jim said, letting go of Holly. “I’m just a self-loathing guy who’s being an asshole to everyone for no reason…”
Holly let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry I came here…”
“I’m not,” Jim said. “It’s nice to have company.”
“It’s just…I just moved in with Michael, and he wanted me out of his house so that he could have some time for himself,” Holly explained. “And…I didn’t want to be alone in a motel room again.”
“I understand. There’s a spare bedroom upstairs,” Jim said. “There’s actually four extra bedrooms, so…take your pick.”
Holly smiled.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It’s the least I could do, Holly. Do you want a drink? Unfortunately, I don’t have any alcohol…but I have plenty of water, orange juice, and apple juice. And a lot of vitamins, and some pain killers…”
“I’d love a glass of water.”
“One glass of water, coming right up,” Jim said, leading Holly down the hall into the kitchen. He filled a glass up with water and handed it to Holly.
“Thanks,” she said. “This is a really beautiful home…”
“It’s not a home,” Jim said. “Not anymore. It’s just a house. But thank you…”
Holly nodded.
“Do you want a tour?” Jim asked. Holly nodded, and followed Jim into the spacious living room. Jim pointed to a large canvas painting of a green meadow. “Pam painted that. It’s the meadow where her parents and I scattered her ashes. She said it was the most beautiful place she’s ever been…”
“It’s really good,” Holly said, examining the picture with interest.
“And that’s our wedding photo,” Jim pointed to a large portrait, and for the first time, Holly was able to see a healthy Jim and Pam looking beautiful.
“She’s gorgeous,” Holly smiled. “Look at her! She’s glowing!”
“Yeah…” Jim said lovingly. “She was beautiful…”
“And you weren’t so bad looking yourself, Jim,” Holly smiled.
Jim shrugged.
“Meh…sure…” he said awkwardly.
Jim led Holly around his house, showing her where the bathrooms were, and all the rooms but one.
“What’s in that room?” asked Holly, pointing to the door.
“That’s…the baby’s nursery,” Jim replied. “Um…don’t really like going in there…”
“Oh…I’m sorry,” Holly said quickly.
“So do you want to go to bed? Or…”
“I’m not that tired,” Holly replied. “But if you are, feel free…”
“I never sleep these days,” Jim said, rubbing his temple. “My head hurts more when I lay down…”
“Oh…gosh…”
“Yeah, so…do you want me to order some pizza or something? There’s no food in the house…”
“Actually, do you want to go for a drive?” Holly asked. “Since you’re not tired?”
“Uh…sure. Where?” asked Jim. “Because if you want to drive out to woods and kill me…”
Holly laughed.
“Montauk?”
“Isn’t that like…five hours away?” Jim asked.
“Give or take…” Holly smiled.
“Um…why Montauk?”
“It’s sort of…my place,” Holly explained. “You know, it’s where I go whenever I feel like shit…”
“All right,” Jim smiled. “Let’s go to Montauk then.”
