Roy was sobering up, but Pam paid no attention when he asked her to pull into the office parking lot and let him get his truck to take back to his apartment. They were about to pass by Dunder Mifflin before Pam dropped him off. She felt a strange, icy sensation shoot through her veins at the thought of the office. Before she could linger on the feeling, they turned a corner and reached the outer gates of the building.
“Hey, since you're dropping me off at my place anyway,” said Roy, “why don't you just stay over? It's not that late yet.”
The question faded in the car's dark interior, but Pam did not answer. She looked out the window to her left; the dark bulk of the office building hunched down against the ground beyond the entrance gate, looking down at her as she slowed the car on her way past it. It was imposing, black, framed by the curtain of the night sky. There was something ominous about the building. Almost threatening. Maybe it was just that the lights were off and all the office park employees had gone home, but Pam felt there was something more.
“Why did you stop?” asked Roy.
Pam noticed she had slowed the car down to a halt outside the office gates.
“No reason.”
It was the knowledge that she would be going back to work there on Monday, and every Monday after that one. Without Jim. The thought of dealing with her coworkers, of putting up with Michael and Dwight when they were in one of their more excessive moods, was almost too much to bear. She didn't know how she'd deal with it. A wave of loneliness swept over Pam, and she decided she did not want to be alone that night.
“Alright, Roy. I'll stay over for a while.”
“Awesome!”
Roy settled back into his seat as they drove on. Pam's window was cracked, and she could smell the night air – but beyond that, there was still a faint hint of a new car smell, even though she had owned the car for a little while. The gates passed them by, but as she looked out to the side, Pam briefly glimpsed the windows that stared out from the office before it disappeared from view. Windows she had looked out from on many boring days. They were empty and black, but within them Pam could see the promise of a bleak future.
The trip to Roy's place was silent, except for the soft whine of the engine. Pam didn't bother turning on the radio, as she knew she wouldn't be paying much attention to it. It did not take long to get to Roy's apartment, and as soon as they left the car and went inside, Roy made a beeline for the television. Pam was slower; something about seeing the office had brought her to a crawl. She took off her coat and joined him the couch after a moment, but the television was no distraction for her thoughts.
Going to Poor Richard's that night hadn't been any fun at all. Seeing some of her coworkers was all right, but she wasn't really friends with any of them besides Jim. She had gone to see Jim. Maybe for the last time. They had mentioned hanging out over the weekend, but she couldn't tell if Jim was serious. The two of them hadn't really hung out after work a single time after the two branches had merged. They used to do things together sometimes when things were easier, even though she was still Roy's fiancée, before Jim had left and everything had gotten complicated. But it seemed like it was just talk now.
More importantly, it didn't really matter if she saw him again over the weekend when she knew it would just be the same awkward small talk, terminating into nothing. She knew that tonight had been a test for her; she had come to the pub half expecting to say something to Jim, half expecting to ask him to stay, even though she knew he would ask why. Telling Jim she would miss him was not enough. Both of them already knew that. There was only one answer to his question.
And she was afraid of that answer.
“Too bad Jim's leaving, huh?”
Pam looked blankly at Roy, who still had his eyes glued to the television.
“I guess I never really talked to the guy much, but he's okay. Least it gave us a reason to go out and knock off a few drinks.”
“Yeah.”
Roy's attempt at conversation trickled off as his attention went back to being absorbed in some kind of car show. Pam knew that she was not exactly being conversational herself, but at the same time, she wondered why Roy had even invited her over if he was just going to watch television.
It was interesting how Roy had changed since high school. Or maybe it was just her perception of him that had changed. She could still remember what she thought of him, before he even knew who she was. She was timid and artsy back then. A girl who kept mostly to herself. Not much different than she was now, Pam thought with a rueful smile. Roy was a very popular guy: athletic, sociable, a bit of a class clown, and a high school football star. Pam had figured he was the type of guy who didn't pay much attention to girls like her, but when a friend of hers had hinted of hearing through the grapevine that Roy thought she was pretty, Pam had been taken aback. And when Roy had broken up with his then girlfriend, she had gathered the courage to ask him out. The rest was history.
It was hard to tell just how different Roy was from the boy she had known in high school. She supposed he had never been a high achiever, but her high school self would probably be shocked to see her boyfriend working in a warehouse now. But then again, a teenage Pam would probably be shocked to see herself in her twenties, working as a receptionist in a paper supply company instead taking the art world by storm. Things stalled over time. The idle fantasies of high school – even if she had never taken them too seriously – withered away in the face of adulthood.
“What are you thinking so hard about, Pam?”
“Not much.”
“Come on,” said Roy, giving Pam a tickle on the stomach. She was not in the mood to respond, and he frowned as he looked at her expression. “What's the problem? You bummed about Jim leaving?”
Pam had to resist laughing. He had no idea how right he was. Hearing it from Roy, however, seemed to jar something in her mind. She looked at her boyfriend and asked herself what she really thought of him. Why she was really with him. Why was she sitting here on a Friday night? Was she happy?
She had always known that Roy wasn't a very ambitious person, but she couldn't really fault him for that. She wasn't that ambitious either, and neither was Jim for that matter. Roy was generally a nice enough guy, when he wasn't in 'guy mode' as she liked to think of it, but he was self-centered. Sometimes she felt like she was a third wheel, which was quite a feat in a relationship with two people.
The things that made Roy so attractive in high school were ephemeral. Surface matters. Even his good looks had faded, leaving him sort of pudgy and faded. Pam felt a little guilty about taking a mental jab at his physical appearance, but she seemed to be in a bad mood, and it came to her by impulse. She felt a strange stirring as she looked at Roy in the dim light of his apartment's living room. And not the good kind of stirring, either.
When it came right down to it, they really had nothing in common. Roy didn't share her sense of humor. He didn't share her interests. And a lot of the time, he bored her. They had a long history together, but what had once seemed like a solid foundation was beginning to turn into quicksand.
Pam had known that for a long time, but only now was she really admitting it to herself. She had told herself that getting together with Roy again was the right choice after Jim came back with Karen; she had to stick to what was safe, what she knew. But did she really know Roy? She thought about her future. Was it really safe ? The word began to seem meaningless. She began to wonder what value there was in safety if it made her unhappy. She began to hate being safe.
“Roy,” she said, “why did you invite me here tonight?”
“I dunno. What do you mean? I just wanted to be with you, I guess.”
“But why? Why do you want to be with me?”
Roy had been smiling, but something hesitant crept into his expression as he looked at his girlfriend. As if he was sensing some kind of trap being set, and didn't want to give her the wrong answer.
“Because I like you, Pammy.”
Although Pam noticed that Roy did not use the word 'love', she didn't dwell on it, wanting to press on.
“Why do you like me?”
Roy mulled over the question.
“Well, you're good looking, you're nice, you're smart.”
The answers themselves didn't really bother Pam, even if Roy had chosen 'good-looking' as his first response. It was more the fact that the answers were so vague, so impersonal. Nice? She wondered if she had ever told someone they weren't nice to their face. Possibly Michael, if anyone. Maybe she was being unfair; she liked to think of herself as a nice person, and there wasn't anything wrong with being called nice, but Roy's answer seemed emotionless to her. He was just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear.
“Plus,” said Roy, “I thought maybe we could go up to the bedroom in a bit. Have a little Friday fun, right?”
Pam groaned.
“Or not. Just suggesting.”
“I'd kind of rather talk.”
Roy nodded and snaked his arm around the back of the couch, apparently making an effort to look like he was carefully listening to her. “Sure,” he said. “About what?”
“About us, Roy.”
Roy nodded, waiting for a response, but as soon as Pam had told him she wanted to talk, she found herself at a loss for words. Maybe it wasn't really that she wanted to talk about the two of them. She found herself wanting to talk about Jim. Or even more, about herself, as selfish as it sounded. Her bad mood had been increasing ever since she and Roy left the bar, and it was changing into something even worse. Pam was frustrated with herself. As she sat there, sitting in a silent stupor with her boyfriend, she even hated herself.
One of the strangest things about going to that bar, Pam realized, was that it wasn't even Jim who was sticking in her mind - she had barely even talked to him in the first place. It was her brief conversation with Oscar and Gil when they first arrived. Gil had been friendly enough, but seeing him had immediately brought her back to the art show, when she overheard their conversation in front of her wall of watercolor paintings. Gil had called her paintings 'motel art', and it had taken the wind out of Pam's sails, but she began to realize that it wasn't Gil's insult that bothered her. It was something Oscar had said, even if he wasn't trying to be mean at all.
Real art takes courage, Gil had told his boyfriend. And honesty.
Those aren't Pam's strong points, Oscar had replied.
Pam remembered it clearly. As soon as she had heard the words, she knew they were true. They were her weakest points, in fact. Oscar was perceptive; so perceptive that he had stripped away all of her defenses in an instant, leaving her naked and shivering. It was the reason she had been with Roy for such a long time, even if they had been on autopilot for months, for years; it was the reason Pam knew she had feelings for Jim, but chose not to act on them, fearing he'd reject her like she did him. It was the reason she had let Roy talk her out of art school. Pam was a coward, and she wasn't honest with herself. Simple as that.
“If you like me, Roy, why didn't you support me when I said I wanted to go to art school?”
The question rang out like a whip's crack. A dark cloud seemed to pass over Roy's face for a moment before he collected himself.
“Do you really think that's what you want?” he asked.
“I wanted to try it, at least.”
“Pam, it's just – it just seems like a bad idea to me. I mean, look, I'm not saying you can't go to art school, okay? That's your choice. I guess I was ordering you around too much when you asked, right? I just thought it made no sense when you already have a stable job here, and it costs money, and I mean, come on - it's not like there's much chance you're gonna do anything with art. My cousin's an artist and he's flat broke. What's the point?”
Pam knew that Roy was trying, but his efforts fell woefully short. The more he spoke, the more Pam realized that they did not see eye to eye. They never had. She wondered if Roy was with her for the same reasons that she was with him. They had both been together for so long, staying together was the easiest option, even if they weren't right for each other at all. It was clear now. It was shockingly clear:
Their relationship was a lie.
Pam had been lying to herself. She felt nothing for Roy, and putting it all on the line was worth the risk compared to what she had now. Maybe she had been a coward for a long time, but she knew there was no time for that anymore, and her desperation was outweighing her fear. She got up from the couch. Her ex-fiancé had been going on about her interest in art, but he trailed off as he looked up at her.
“Roy,” she said, “this isn't going to work.”
“What?”
“I can't be with you anymore.”
Pam left the couch and walked into the apartment's entryway, grabbing her coat from the stand and putting an arm through each shoulder. She felt a sense of purpose begin to course through her. Her miserable mood was changing into something else. Something a little scary, a little nerve-wracking, but tinged with anticipation. She looked hungrily at the door.
“What are you talking about, Pam? Where are you going?”
Pam looked back at him and wondered what had taken her so long.
“Roy, look - I'm sorry I haven't been honest with you, but I don't feel anything for you anymore, and I don't really think you like me that much either. This is best for both of us. Goodbye.”
Pam was out of the door in an instant, on her way out to the parking lot. The cold night air hit her as she walked under the moonlight. She could hear Roy's footsteps behind her, but apparently he was too flabbergasted to say anything, and was instead just following her for lack of a better idea. Pam fished her keys out of her pocket, pressed the button on her car door opener, and her car flashed its lights down the lot as if beckoning her to come faster. It wouldn't have to wait long. She quickened her pace.
“Pam! At least drop me off at the office so I can bring my truck back here!”
Ignoring Roy's shout, Pam got in the car, brought it sputtering to life, and pulled out of the parking space a little wildly. She caught a glimpse of Roy standing on the sidewalk beside the now empty space as he watched her, but she drove out of the lot in a screech of tires and left him behind. She knew it was abrupt, but she didn't have time to feel sympathy for Roy anymore. Her mind was on the future. It was hanging in the balance. The car sped down the road; hopefully she remembered where she was going. She knew she was driving a little too fast, but she was impatient.
Roy had always said she was a reckless driver, anyway.
The car careened down the streets of Scranton as she made her way toward her destination. She was following a route from memory, one she had only taken once in the past, a little over a year ago, after getting the directions in an email. In fact, it had been an office get-together after work, just like the one she had shared with her coworkers earlier that night at the pub.
The night she was thinking about, however, had been a barbecue and karaoke night at a certain apartment.
.....
There was a small stereo in Jim's room, and it was becoming obvious that he wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon, but he didn't feel like listening to music. He sat in the silent darkness pervading his room and listened to the occasional car driving by outside. He could also hear the echo of the television going downstairs, and after a moment the sound of shuffling and hurried footsteps meant that Mark would be leaving for a little late night partying.
“Halpert,” his roommate shouted from down the stairs, “last chance to party!”
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself! I'll be back, like tomorrow or something.”
Despite his miserable mood, Jim managed to chuckle as he listened to his roommate leave. A moment passed, and the sound of a car pulling out of the apartment complex parking lot reached his ears. Mark was a little bit younger than Jim; out of college, but still trying to cling to the last vestiges of the undergrad lifestyle. Mark wasn't the type to be caught alone on a Friday night, and on the occasion he brought college girls back to the apartment from some campus party, Jim thought they seemed increasingly young compared to him. Mark wasn't a bad guy, but it could definitely be awkward sometimes. As far as roommates went, Jim knew he could do a lot worse. He could have a roommate like Dwight, after all.
Of course, come Monday, he wouldn't even have Dwight as a coworker.
Jim had been thinking about Pam all night. About the disappointing night at the bar, about the sight of her leaving with Roy into the darkness. Somehow Pam had always been tied into his thoughts about the future, and as Jim thought about things, he wondered what his future held for him. It was definitely getting past time to look into job opportunities, considering he'd be unemployed soon. Jim knew that he had stalled too long, expecting something to happen that never had a chance in the first place. Feeling his morose mood come back, Jim began to wonder if he'd turn into a middle aged bachelor living in an apartment with his roommate. So maybe he was jumping ahead a little, but things sure seemed to be going that way.
The moonlight streaming through his window began to shift and warp, mottled by the headlights of a car pulling into the parking lot outside. Jim heard the car pull to a stop, and a moment later, its door opened. He smiled, wondering if Mark was coming back because of something he had forgotten. Mark did that a lot. Jim had noticed a six pack in the fridge earlier; maybe his roommate had bought that to take to a party and had forgotten it before leaving. But as Jim trained his ears to the muffled ambient sounds murmuring faintly around him, he did not hear the sound of the front door opening downstairs again.
Maybe it wasn't Mark after all.
.....
Jim's apartment!
After all this time, Pam hadn't forgotten the way. It must have been a memorable barbecue, she told herself.
A short sidewalk passed in front of the parking lot and made its way past other apartments to Jim's front door. Pam followed it, but she had been feeling a burst of terror almost as soon as she had closed the car door behind her. This was it. She was here. The clarity she had been feeling earlier when she was at Roy's apartment still lingered, and Pam knew what she had to say, but she felt her fear returning as she stared at the door. Could she really do this? What if Jim said no?
What if he still left her?
Pam doubled back for a moment, not intending to get back into her car, but just trying to give herself a few moments to collect her thoughts and think of something. She couldn't make a bad impression; she had to be honest, she had to be clear, and she had to use all her feminine wiles against him.
Oh please, she thought to herself. Feminine wiles? Get a grip, Pam.
As she approached the door again, Pam suddenly realized that Jim had a roommate. Mark, if she remembered correctly. She remembered Jim talking about it briefly at some point after he returned from Stamford, telling her that he had managed to get the same apartment where he had lived before the move, since he and Mark got along pretty well. Maybe his roommate would be in there now. Could she really say what she needed to say if someone else was there? Maybe she could get Jim to go upstairs. But what if Mark answered the door? Not like that matters, Pam told herself. But would it be embarrassing? Would she lose her nerve?
Calm down, calm down.
Pam took a deep breath and stood in a small plot of grass adjacent to Jim's apartment. She knew she probably looked a little weird to anyone who happened to be looking outside from the other apartments; she stood for a moment, feeling like she was on the verge of hyperventilating as she tried to get a grip on herself. She had known Jim for years, and yet somehow she felt just like she did back in high school. It was like she hadn't grown up at all.
As Pam looked around, she noticed the window up on the second story of the townhouse. If she remembered correctly, Jim's bedroom was behind the window. The light was dark; there were no lights on in the entire building, for that matter. Pam took a look at her watch in the darkness, the LCD screen lighting up blue as she pressed a button. It was a little late. Could they be asleep already? She didn't want to wake up Jim's roommate.
Okay, Pam. Enough excuses!
Steeling herself, Pam strode forward and grabbed a rock from the ground. Her mind was churning, blasting away on overdrive, and she decided that ringing the doorbell or knocking might wake up Jim's roommate. And Jim himself could be asleep, after all – he wasn't a late night kind of person, really – so maybe the doorbell wouldn't be able to wake him. The best thing to do was to try to get his attention by throwing a few pebbles at his bedroom window. She had seen it in the movies, and it seemed like the best idea.
Pam took careful aim and threw the rock up at Jim's window. The rock had been hard to see in the darkness. It must have been bigger than she thought, because as she watched, it went straight through the window, shattering it in a shower of glass.
“Ah, crap.”
A momentary urge to make a break for it gripped Pam tightly, but she rooted herself firmly to the ground. Breaking the window had definitely not been her intention, but if Jim was up there, he'd be awake now. A few other windows in the neighboring buildings lit up at the sound of the loud crash. Pam counted the seconds, hoping against hope.
Finally, Jim's window joined the others and changed from black to yellowish-white as a light turned on inside. After a moment, Pam could just barely make out a silhouette behind the blinds, which looked like it was stepping gingerly to avoid broken glass. The silhouette peered outside.
“What the hell?”
“Hi Jim!”
Pam waited patiently as the silhouette stood still for another moment.
“Pam?”
“Yeah, it's me.”
“Did you just throw a rock through my window?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Can you let me in downstairs?”
The silhouette disappeared, and Pam made her way towards the apartment's front door. Hopefully Jim wasn't going to be mad at her. She did just break his window and probably woke him up from sleeping. It didn't take long for the door to open, and Jim stood in the entryway, his face twisted in confusion.
“Why did you throw a rock through my window?”
“I was trying to get your attention.”
Jim looked at the open door for a moment, as if checking it to see if it was actually there.
“Why didn't you just ring the doorbell or knock?”
“Well, I thought I might wake up your roommate.”
“Um, he's gone, and that makes no sense.”
Pam stood nervously, gathering her coat to herself to keep out the cold night air.
“I wasn't really thinking it through, I guess. I'm kind of nervous.”
“Ah. Nervous?”
“Can I come in?”
Jim nodded and stepped aside to let her enter. She came in and looked around; it was about the same as she remembered it from the night Jim had held a barbecue for his coworkers. “Where's your roommate?” she asked.
“Out partying somewhere. So, uh, what occasion has brought you to throw rocks at my humble abode?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Jim seemed to pause at the sound of the question, as if he could pick up something implied behind it.
“Can we go up to your room?” asked Pam.
“Sure.”
Pam followed Jim upstairs. She didn't know why exactly she wanted to go to Jim's room, since his roommate was not there and they could talk anywhere they wanted. She was interested in seeing what kind of damage she had done with her rock. She was interested in seeing the room matched her memories of it. But mostly, it just seemed like the right place to talk to him.
“Look at that,” laughed Jim as he pointed to the window.
“Yup.”
Pam was glad that he didn't seem to be too angry. The bottom glass window pane was completely shattered, and the blinds wafted lazily as the breeze came in from outside. The glint of glass shards lying on the carpet caught Pam's eye, and she instinctively grabbed Jim by the arm to keep him from stepping too close. “Watch out!” she said.
“Thanks.”
Jim sat down on the side of his bed, still looking at little shell shocked at the sight of his broken window. The light in his room had been turned off. Pam wondered if she had really woken him up with the sound of shattering glass. There was a long silence between them as she looked down at her best friend, still standing beside the bed. He returned her stare.
She knew it was now or never. She knew she needed to say something - anything.
The icy fear which had gripped her earlier flattened out, stomped down by a surge of sheer willpower as she sat down beside Jim. Instinctively, automatically, she drew herself closer and threw one arm around him, the other keeping her balance on the bed. Jim made a muffled sound as her lips joined his own. She kissed him. She kissed him like it might be the last time she would ever kiss anybody. Like she was on fire, and Jim's lips were the only way to put it out. She said exactly what she needed to say, and when she let Jim go, the fear was gone.
“Whoa.”
Pam smiled. Jim's sentiments were about the same as hers.
“Uh - is that what you came here for?”
She nodded.
“I mean, I'm not complaining.”
She looked into Jim's eyes, and while she knew the kiss had told him everything, she still had to make sure.
“Jim, don't quit.”
Something traveled between them, and Jim gave a little twitch, as if an electric current had gone through him.
“Why not?” he finally asked.
“It took me a long time to admit it, but I love you. Going back to the office without you, it's just - I need you there with me. I need you.”
As her words hung in the air, Pam waited for what seemed like forever. Whatever Jim said, whatever he decided, she could already feel a weight lifting away from her. The breeze came through the window a little stronger, and she wondered if she was in danger of floating away. No longer would she be indecisive and cowardly. Pam had told Jim the truth. Now the ball was in his court. She waited for his answer.
“Alright,” he said.
Pam smiled, but her response was cut off by another kiss.
This time it was Jim who took Pam in his arms and kissed her insistently. She was still a little cold from standing outside, and she felt the warmth of his arms around her, pulling her in closer. His clothing, his bare skin, brushed against her as he gathered her up. It was amazing how she could know him for years, standing inches away from him, more times than she could count, and yet never really experience him until now. Not the way she was experiencing him now.
She had imagined it before, but this was the real thing. He had a smell. He had a feel, a taste. The two of them sank down on the bed, intertwined, and Pam felt the tips of his fingers on her back as they kissed. Jim was on top for a moment, but she pressed up closer and turned him over as she grasped hungrily at him. Her hair was loose, it was everywhere, and it fell down over his face like a veil as they gave in to each other. She felt like she was meeting Jim for the first time.
As far as first impressions went, it was a pretty good one.
“I want to stay here,” she said as they clung closely to each other.
“For the night? What about-”
“It's over with him. I just want you now.”
Jim was silent, but Pam felt a little squeeze that told her he felt the same. The two of them lay quietly in bed together, sharing the occasional kiss as they floated in and out of a haze. Pam felt a breath of cold air against her back, coming from Jim's broken window. She smiled. It might end up being cold in Jim's room tonight, thanks to her. She was about to say something about it when Jim, reading her mind – or probably just feeling the same cold air – reached down and pulled a blanket over them. Pam snuggled up closer beneath the sheets.
Warm or cold, it didn't matter. She felt perfect.
