___________________________________
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jim had ached for as long as he could remember, though no one could ever guess it. Sure, he’d been a little “dorky” in high school, as Pam would happily remind him when paging through his yearbook, but he’d blossomed in college, smirking with amusement as girls giggled and blushed when he so much as glanced across a room at them. He was charming, he knew that, and when he’d see an interesting girl, he’d approach her, charm her, and before long find her on his too-small twin bed, his fingers mapping her body as his roommate was at British Lit 101 or something. It was easy, almost too easy, and by college’s end, he’d slept with his fair share of interesting women---but he never felt for them, not really. He hesitated to think it, to think himself a guy like his brothers, who slept with women without any strings attached or feelings connected, but he knew it was the truth. Of course, there had been some...there had been that girl, Lacie, she was kind of cool...he’d liked her, he guessed. She had been funny. He liked funny girls, liked the laughter...but really, it hadn’t been anything show-stopping. She hadn’t stopped the ache.
When he was a kid, his father loved to recount the tale of the first time he met their mother. She’d sit by, smiling and blushing just like those school girls, as Gerald told the story. “Like something out of a movie, kids,” he’d emphasize, still seeming stunned that he had experienced feelings as soon as he saw her. “Like something out of a movie.”
Pete and Tom had thought that was crap. Larissa had thought it embarrassing. Jim had wondered if it existed, really, and if it did, if that kind of love really was true, if it was his parents’, he wondered if he could have it too.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The first time he had lunch with Pam, she choked on her manicotti. They were laughing, just like he had with all those girls in college, but the atmosphere was different. He wasn't trying to charm her; she was charming him. He was saying something witty, something you’d think he’d remember since he remembers everything about his first mid-day lunch with Pam Beesly, but all he knows is he was saying something witty and she started to laugh but suddenly looked simultaneously surprised, embarrassed, and scared, before coughing uncontrollably and reaching for her tea glass, eyes watery and face red.
“Whoa--you okay?” He felt awkward instantly, unsure of what to do. Do you do the Heimlich on a person who’s coughing? You don’t, right? Do you? Would she want him to? That shouldn’t matter, though, right? The awkwardness? She’s choking! You wouldn’t not do CPR on someone just because it’s awkward, right? Oh, God, what if she needs CPR? Nope. No. Breathing...
She sucked in a deep breath, coughing once more and taking another desperate gulp of tea just as the waiter walked by, probably concerned this was somehow going to affect his tip. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
Pam nodded, eyes shimmering with tears, and something inside Jim wanted to reach out to her. “Yeah,” she croaked, lightly coughing, sniffling.
“Could you bring her some more tea?” Jim heard himself ask without even thinking. What? Her glass was almost empty and she was choking. Any reasonable human being would’ve done the same thing.
She smiled softly, embarrassed. “Thank you...I’m sorry...”
“No, hey, manicotti tends to be a choking hazard.” Something witty. Always something witty.
Pam laughed, lightly and a little cautiously, and that nervous look on her face faded somewhat. He’d charmed her, as he did girls, and he was going to ask her to dinner too, was going to suggest they go somewhere with less of a death rate, when he suddenly noticed the engagement ring on her finger shimmering as she picked up her napkin.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Morning, Beesly.”
“Hey.” Pam smiled awkwardly, the previous day’s tension standing strong in her vision. “Um, hey,” she repeated as he slung his messenger bag over his chair. “Thanks for the rose.”
Something almost like pride had flashed across his face as he turned to look at her, but it disappeared as soon as she thought she saw it and he was casual again. “Yeah, no, I saw them at the store...Vanessa’s birthday...and I mean, I know you were having a bad day...uh...” he stumbled. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, I’m a lot better.”
“Good!”
“Yeah...and I had chocolate last night.” What was that? “You know ‘cause, like, chocolate cures everything...or something,” she laughed, her face growing hot.
“Oh, does it?” Jim grinned. “Well, I guess I went to the wrong aisle.”
She giggled. “I guess you did.”
He turned to his computer with a smile on his face and she felt relief that there was no tension. She fought with Roy almost every day, over some trivial, insignificant thing, and fights with Roy never gnawed at her like fights with Jim.
Jim was, after all, her best friend.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He wasn’t depressed necessarily, he wouldn’t say that. He was just...empty. He was surrounded by people who knew what they wanted. He watched as his roommate, Mark, mapped out plans for a Philadelphia move, watched as even his brothers, his completely offensive brothers, married and welcomed children. He didn’t have a passion, didn’t know what he wanted, so he kept his job at a paper supply office and went home to TV dinners and Trading Spouses. One night, over fish sticks and macaroni, he imagined Pam on the couch next to him, her own dinner in hand. He imagined her laugh, warm like her. He thought of those feelings his dad had bragged about all those years.
The problem with attentiveness is that you can't turn it off.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
_____________________________
Author's Chapter Notes:
I still really don't know what I'm writing...but I can tell you the chapter title is a Dave Matthews Band song.
