Part 2

Pam met Kelly on the stairs, and she wondered if her flushed cheeks, swollen lips and tear-filled eyes would clue Kelly in on what she’d just been doing. Fortunately, as usual, Kelly’s main focus was on herself.

“There you are! You missed the countdown. I totally can’t believe it’s 2006 now. I’ve got a feeling this will finally be my year,” she said, her smile radiant with thoughts of Ryan. “Hey, is that snow in your hair?”

Pam reached up automatically, sure enough feeling the cold wetness in her hair.  She hadn’t even realized it was snowing outside, she’d been so caught up in Jim’s kisses.  She shook her head, trying to erase the image, trying to form a coherent reply.

“I uh—did you know Kevin has a balcony? I was just out getting a breath of fresh air, trying to sober up.”

“A balcony? Cool. Where’s Jim?  He missed midnight too.”

Pam shrugged as they began walking down the stairs together. “He’s probably passed out in one of the bedrooms somewhere. He was pretty drunk.”

“Oh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk before. Weird. Anyway, Stacy and I were the only girls left for the guys to kiss at midnight—well, besides Meredith. Someone just dropped her off here at ten minutes till. She is so totally wasted. The three of us got lots of kisses on the cheek. I was hoping Jim would have been down here.” She grinned mischievously.  “But anyway, Ryan really went after it, at least with me. His lips are so soft, you wouldn’t believe it. And don’t get me started on his tongue...” She sighed in romantic remembrance.

“Sorry I missed all that,” said Pam.

Back in the living room, everyone was getting ready to leave.

“Hey, where’s my keys?” asked Oscar, patting down his pants pockets, then going over to the coat rack to look in his coat pockets.

“Mine are gone too,” said Ryan, repeating the same motions.

One by one, all who drove began complaining of missing car keys.

Dwight laughed suddenly, and all eyes turned suspiciously to him. 

“You all were so drunk, you didn’t even notice that I pickpocketed your keys. As safety officer, it is my job to make sure no one drives drunk tonight. So call a cab or someone to pick you up who hasn’t been drinking. And don’t think I won’t check. I have a breathalyzer in my car. I am an officer of the law, you know.”

“Voluntary officer,” Pam said automatically, just for Jim.

“Isn’t pickpocketing illegal?” pointed out Oscar.

There was a chorus of “Come on, Dwight!” and “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, I’ve already done it. Even Kevin’s, in case he has the idea of driving someone home.”

“Where are my keys, Dwight?” asked Toby. “I’ve only had one beer this whole night. I’m not drunk. I admire what you’re doing, but you should have told us before taking our property. Give me my keys and I’ll make sure I get some of them home. I can maybe take four in my car.”

“Nope. Not without a breathalyzer.  We’re not in the office right now, so you have no jurisdiction over me.”

“What about you, Dwight?” asked Oscar. “Weren’t you drinking?”

“Just water. I designated myself the uh, designated driver.”

“Bullshit,” said Ryan. “You had a glass of scotch; I saw you.”

“That was just for show, Temp, to avoid suspicion.  I have consumed no alcohol.”

Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Give us your keys, Dwight,” demanded Oscar. 

“Yeah, if we’re not leaving, you’re not leaving,” Kevin said, advancing menacingly toward the much thinner man.

Dwight threw up his hands. “Go ahead; you can torture me all you want; I won’t tell you where I hid anyone’s keys.  And you’ll never find them without me.”

Pam and Kelly had pulled out their phones, calling a local taxi company. Just as they expected, everyone was using the free cab services most companies were offering on New Year’s Eve, and all they got were busy signals.

Ryan got off the phone with his mom.

“Hey, guys, my mom has a minivan. She can take a few of us home.” Everyone started asking for a ride.

“My wife’s coming to get me,” said Stanley.  He turned to Dwight.  “My keys better be here tomorrow morning, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“They’ll be here; don’t worry your drunken little head.  I’ll text Kevin where they are tomorrow.”

Pam was searching her fuzzy brain. She wasn’t about to call Roy; no doubt he was drunk too, and would probably end up staying over at Daryl’s. Her parents and sister lived two hours away, and her friend Isobel was at a party of her own.

“You have room for me?” she asked Ryan.

“Oh, Pam. Sorry. We’re all filled up. Unless you want to sit on my lap.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  Kelly frowned.

“Uh, no thanks. Maybe Kevin and Stacy will let me sleep on their couch.”

“What about Jim?” asked Kelly.

At mention of Jim, Pam’s face grew pink again, and she shivered at the memory of his lips on hers, his warm body beneath the blanket, his hands in her hair.

“I’ll—”

But just then, Jim came lumbering down the stairs, his face and hair damp at the temples, as if he’d thrown water on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, and it took him twice as long to get down the stairs as it should have, his steps careful and slow, his hands tightly gripping the handrails as he descended. He took in the chaos and angry atmosphere of the room, his eyes coming to rest on Pam. She met his gaze, but looked hastily away, her flush deepening.

“Dwight took all our keys so we wouldn’t drive drunk,” Kelly was telling him. “You have anyone you can call to get you?”

Jim was too addled to even question this turn of events. “Uh, Mark’s at a club in Philly.  I guess I could call my parents.”

“Oh, good,” she said.  “Hey, you think they would mind giving Pam a ride?”

“Kelly—” Pam interposed.

“No, I’m sure they wouldn’t care.” Jim didn’t dare look at Pam. At the foot of the stairs, he drew out his phone.

Twenty minutes later, everyone but Pam and Jim was gone. Pam busied herself helping Stacy clean up in the kitchen, and Kevin was asleep in his recliner.  The ringing doorbell didn’t even stir him.

Pam and Jim thanked Stacy and went to the door. A tall, handsome, middle-aged man who bore a passing resemblance to Jim waited at the door.  Pam wondered if Jim looked more like his mom.

“Hey, Dad. Sorry you had to come all the way over here so late.”

His amused laughter made it obvious where Jim got his charm.  “I haven’t gotten a call like that since you were in high school,” Mr. Halpert said.  “You look like hell, son.  Good thing you called when you did; your mother and I were about to turn in.”

“Would you mind taking Pam home too? She doesn’t have a ride.”

“Pam?” Mr. Halpert’s eyebrows shot up.  “The Pam?” His familiar hazel gaze rested on her, and she felt herself warming with embarrassment.

“Dad!”

“Pam Beesly,” she said, reaching out her hand in amusement. So, he’d talked to his dad about me? “I work with Jim.”

“Hm. Pretty as you said, Jimmy.”

Beside her, Jim covered his face and groaned. “Oh my God,” he said under his breath. As they grabbed their coats and walked outside into the cold night air, big flakes of snow were coming down steadily.

“You don’t seem too drunk to me,” Mr. Halpert commented to Pam as they walked to the parking lot.

“I’ve had a few, I admit, so I guess it’s better I didn’t drive.  I appreciate you giving me a lift. I hope I’m not too far out of your way.”

“No problem; happy to help.  My son here doesn’t ask my help too much anymore. He’s a grown man now, I guess.”

Pam grinned. “Except when he reverts back to his frat party days.”

She looked over in time to see Jim shooting her a murderous glance. He must be sobering up.  Her smile widened, and for a moment it was like he’d never kissed her, that they were still just best friends, and she felt relieved. Maybe they could survive this after all, move on, chalk it up to too much booze.

Jim’s dad stopped in front of an old white pick-up truck.

“You brought the truck?” Jim asked in dismay.

“It’s four-wheel drive, son, and in case you’re too wasted to notice, it’s coming down pretty hard out here. The roads are getting packed.”

He unlocked the doors, and Jim gestured that Pam should slide into the truck in the middle.  He automatically helped her up into the high cab, and they both felt the shock of awareness as their bare hands clasped.  He got in beside her, shutting the door and buckling his seatbelt, before scooting as far to the window as he could. Pam was struggling to buckle the middle seatbelt, and he wordlessly moved to help her. She shivered at his touch, at his nearness, and his hands shook so much it took him an inordinate amount of time to find the buckle.

Pam’s face brushed against his hair as he bent to his task, and she was assailed with the memory of its softness beneath her fingers. His breath smelled minty, like mouthwash, and she wondered if he’d raided Kevin’s medicine cabinet.

Mr. Halpert had already started the truck, and the diesel engine idled loudly, while he reached to crank the heater up full blast. “You two in?”

“Yep,” they said in unison. It was such close quarters, that Pam was squished between the two men, her feet on the hump on the floor, the gear shift between her knees. She turned awkwardly to the side toward Jim to avoid Mr. Halpert’s grip on the knob.  Her legs touched Jim’s, and she felt him tense beside her.

“What’s the address, Pam?” Mr. Halpert asked. She told him, and he drove carefully through the snow-covered parking lot, past the open gate, and out into the street. As Jim sat silently beside her, his dad asked her polite questions about her family and her job at Dunder Mifflin, as well as questions about Jim’s work ethic at the office.

Pam laughed. “He’s actually our number two salesman,” she said, “but I could totally see him moving up to number one if he tried a little harder.”

“Pam,” he growled next to her.

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” she said dryly, teasing him. “I could also see him in a management position in a year or two. He’s really good with people.”  She was being completely honest, and she jumped a little to feel Jim squeeze her knee in appreciation of her comment.  She looked over at him, saw his eyes soften as he looked at her in the dashboard light.

“Pam’s a hell of an artist,” Jim said out of nowhere. “She could make a living that way if she went for it.”

Pam looked away in embarrassment. “He’s exaggerating.  I’d have to take a lot more art classes…”

“You should, young lady,” said Mr. Halpert. “Don’t give up on your dreams, or put them off, either.  Life’s too short…”

Jim chuckled. “Dad writes Hallmark cards in his spare time, or sometimes inspirational posters.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason, smartass. Don’t pay attention to him, Pam. He wanted to be a sports writer. Now he works for a paper company.”

This was a surprise to Pam.  “A sportswriter? Really?”

“Thanks, Dad.  Yeah. I wrote for the college newspaper when I realized I couldn’t make it on the basketball team. But sports writing is really competitive, and journalism doesn’t pay the bills. That’s why I majored in marketing.  Someday I’d like to be my own boss though.”

“Michael isn’t good enough for you?” Pam asked dryly.

He snorted, but was as diplomatic as usual. “He means well.”

They rode in silence for awhile as visibility decreased and Mr. Halpert had to slow considerably to focus more on the road. Pam was surprised to feel Jim’s head resting on her shoulder as he snored softly.  She smiled, remembering several months ago, when she’d done the same to him during a boring office meeting.  She didn’t move, letting him sleep, trying not to remember that she’d kissed him earlier, that he wasn’t her fiancé, that she really needed to consider now what she really wanted. Drunk or not, she had certainly wanted Jim on Kevin’s balcony tonight. His kisses had effectively blocked out her feelings for Roy, had opened the floodgates to her feelings for Jim.

God, what a mess.

“Jim tells us you’re engaged,” Mr. Halpert said softly. 

She started, then forced herself to stay still so she wouldn’t wake Jim.  “Yes,” she said politely.

“Have you set a date?’

“We’re trying to save for the wedding right now.”

“Hm.”

Given what Pam suspected about Jim’s feelings for her, she wondered what he might have said to his family, and she felt compelled to try to clarify to his father what her relationship to his son really was.

“Jim’s my best friend at the office,” she said. “I really…care about him.  He’s such a good guy.”

“Yes, he is. And he really cares about you.  But I think you know that. You’d be blind not to know that.”

She had been blind though, a selective kind of blindness, up until a week ago.  Then she’d listened to the mix tape he’d made for her, and a few days before, when she’d seen the keepsakes he’d given her, representing the best of their friendship, but definitely having a romantic edge that was undeniable now.  She could no longer lie to herself that they were just friends, especially after what happened on the balcony.

“I never want to lose his friendship,” she said sincerely.

“I know he feels the same way.” She could hear the protectiveness in his voice, the worry, that she might hurt his son.  She worried about the same thing, about both of them. About Roy.

  “Hey, is this your street?”

She squinted through the sweeping windshield wipers. “Yes. The third house on the left.”

He pulled into her driveway, and she was relieved Roy’s truck wasn’t there.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Jim, we’re here.  I’m gonna need my shoulder back.” She smiled.

“Hmph?”  After a second nudge he sat straight up, rubbing his eyes, disoriented.
“Oh, sorry. I must have passed out a minute,” he said sheepishly.  He moved to open the door, and hopped out so that he could help her.

“Watch out. It’s slick.”  She took his hand, stepped carefully onto the icy running board, then down to the snow-packed concrete.  She wished she’d worn her snow boots, because her tennis shoes weren’t made for walking in the snow. Jim must have watched the weather, for he wore a heavy pair of Doc Martin’s with his jeans.

“I’ll help her to the door,” he called to his dad, when she slid around and nearly fell into him. 

“Thanks again for the ride,” Pam said.

“Anytime, young lady.”

The snow fell heavily around them as Jim walked her up the short walkway to her front porch.

“Dammit,” she suddenly said, reaching in her purse in vain. “Dwight has my house keys along with my car keys, the idiot. I hope everyone else can get into their houses.”

Jim tried to hide his grin. “Guess you’ll have to come home with me. I have a spare key under a rock near my door.”

She shook her head, reached up on tiptoe for the hidden key on the top of the door frame. “That’s okay. I’ve got one too.” She didn’t miss his disappointed expression.

In the yellow glow of her porchlight, the snow swirling around them in windblown eddies, she looked up at him, stomach tightening at how adorable he looked, how shyly he was admiring her too. Another time, before they’d kissed, this wouldn’t have been a big deal, his walking her like a gentleman and friend to her door. But now, her heart picked up speed as the moment came for them to say goodbye. A tall bush grew near the porch, and she knew Mr. Halpert wouldn’t be able to see them from the driveway, especially with the snow.  Even half drunk, Jim recognized her discomfort, her fear, her anticipation.  He reached out to touch her cold cheek.

“Pam, I—”
Her hand came up, rested on the front of his coat.  Bravely, she met his eyes.

“Please, don’t say anything yet. I have to think about this, what this all means. For us. For all of us.  I need some time, Jim, okay?  Besides, you’re drunk. Who knows what regrets you’ll have tomorrow.” She smiled a little.

He shook his head. “I won’t have any regrets,” he said softly.  And before she could say another word, he gently kissed her lips. Passion flared immediately, but they both resisted, and he drew slowly away.

“Call me if you want to talk,” he said. He stole another quick kiss and stepped back.

“Good night,” she said, knowing in that moment that she was in love with him. His eyes darkened as he recognized the sudden change in her demeanor, but his mind was too slow to identify what it meant.

 He didn’t leave until she’d unlocked her door and locked it again from the inside. When the roar of the diesel engine faded away, Pam sat heavily on her couch in the dark house, the night’s events whirling like snow through her mind.

“Oh my God,” she whispered to the empty room. Face in hands, she began to weep.