“Jim, please let me take you to the hospital. Please,” Pam begged, feeling more and more frantic by the minute. 

Jim shook his head stubbornly. 

“It’s just a reaction to the...,” he gulped, “To the chemo. It’s always like this.” 

Was it pride or fever that made him unreasonable?

“It is not always like this! This is different! Something is wrong!”

It was almost midnight on the first day of Jim’s very last week of chemo. They were so close to the finish line. Just that morning his doctor had told them both that he had high hopes for the big surgery in a few weeks, such a huge weight off her shoulders. They’d celebrated just hours ago with a dinner they’d cooked together, the first Jim had the energy to participate in for several weeks. But now, just when everything seemed to have balanced again, cancer tipped the scales. 

Things had taken an abrupt turn for the worst when she had woken, after having barely been asleep, with an unrelenting suspicion that something was wrong. Her fears were confirmed by Jim’s absence when she reached out to find his hand. 

She’d called his name once or twice to make sure that she wasn’t missing him in the darkness, then pushed herself wearily out of bed and towards the bathroom where her gut told her he would be. She could hear retching before she even opened the bathroom door, and stopped a moment to prepare herself. She had thought, with this being the last week of treatment, that the worst was behind them. But one of the most awful parts of chemo is that just when you think you have a grip on it, that you’ve finally adjusted to its setbacks, it always kicks you right back down again. It had not gotten easier. Seeing Jim like this would never just be easy for her. With that, she took a calming, steadying breath, drowned her disappointment, then with a soft knock, pushed open the door. 

He looked pitiful, although she would never tell him so, hunched over the toilet, trembling exhaustingly. His shirt clung to him in sweat soaked patches. 

She went to him as she always did and ran her hand briefly over his tense shoulders, taking in their heat and making her way around to his forehead. She pushed back the sticky bangs and felt the warmth of his clammy skin on hers. 

He leaned into it slightly with eyes still closed, but she was secretly hurt, despite herself, that he had not called for her. 

“Oh, babe,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She watched silently as Jim visibly struggled to reel himself back together long enough to give her an answer. 

“Was trying to wait it...it out,” Jim choked and gagged again. 

Without another word, he crashed back roughly against the bathroom wall, leaning his head against it with eyes screwed shut. She knew the pain must be terrible at the moment, but it would pass soon. It always passed soon. 

With that in mind she sat down beside him, and felt the intense heat from his skin even through her pajamas. It brought momentary panic, terrifying if only temporary. 

“Then let’s wait it out,” she whispered hesitantly, and placed her hand on his thigh. 

She felt his trembling despite her own. 

But that was two hours ago, and now Pam’s emotions unraveled before their eyes even as she plead with him to go back to the hospital. 

She had long been standing, leaving Jim alone to tremble violently on the cold tile floor as she paced back and forth in the pale bathroom light. It should’ve passed by now, but it hadn’t, and Jim knew it. Meanwhile he tried, yet again, to breathe quietly through another painful stomach spasm, whimpering slightly as it peaked.

She usually pretended not to notice so as to not damage his pride any further, but this time she stopped pacing and watched him anyway. His arms were folded tightly around his stomach and his lips pressed firmly against grinding teeth. He opened his eyes and saw her watching, but she did not look away. 

“Those eyes...,” she mused silently. 

But unmerciful pain spiked again before she had even the time to finish her thought. Jim gasped as it took his breath away and Pam, against her will, gasped with him. She immediately yanked open one of the bathroom drawers and fumbled around inside until her fingers felt the hard plastic of a medicine bottle that the hospital had given Jim weeks ago for when the pain became intolerable. She grabbed the container, and kneeling down in front of him, pulled his hand from around his side. 

“Here,” she breathed and forced two chalky pills into his sweaty palm. 

Jim stared at her silently, then down at his hand. He’d spent his days heavily medicated for weeks now just to get through. The pills made him feel distant, absent from her and Cece. She knew that he hated them and hated himself on them, making sure each dose was absolutely unavoidable before it was taken. But sometimes she feared that in his deliberation, he suffered far too long. Jim looked back to her, appearing too torn and too exhausted to make a decision for himself. 

She was not torn.

“Take them,” she instructed again, sounding if possible, more frantic. “They’ll help.”

“Pam,” he said softly, holding onto her hand that had released the medication. 

“Please,” she begged, feeling her lip tremble as she spoke. 

A shadow of the healthy Jim surfaced in her husband again as he shifted, pushing himself higher in an attempt to look stronger. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. 

“We need to go to the hospital,” she said again, neglecting to wipe the tears falling from her own eyes. “I’m freaking out,” she whispered and her voice broke slightly under the weight of panic. 

He pulled her closer as she knelt in front of him, stilling her trembling just long enough for him to kiss her forehead. 

“Look at me,” he demanded gently and she looked hesitantly into his eyes. Her stomach leapt inside of her as it always did, if not easing her turmoil then surely making it far less noticeable. “I’m okay,” he lied to her. “I am. Everything’s okay.”

A concoction of anger and guilt swirled inside of her stomach, now heavy and still. Her clenched jaw begged her tongue to keep silent, yet despite her best efforts, the disappointments of the night, the disappointments of the month, were rung from her slowly like dirty rags. 

“No,” she replied, shaking her head more than necessary, yet she did not break eye contact. She needed him to feel the weight of her seriousness. “No. You don’t get to say that.”

Jim looked taken back, shaking his head at her silently. 

“What do you mean,” he asked and she felt him squeeze her hand, a probably unintentional response to his increasing pain. 

Again she felt guilt, but she’d held this in too long. It must come out now. 

“You don’t get to say that to me,” she said again, more accusingly than she had intended. 

She was sobbing now, but Jim, still looking confused, swallowed shallowly and mouthed silent protests. 

“You don’t have to watch your soulmate die, Jim,” she interjected with a shuddering gasp. “You just don’t.”

She held her breath for Jim’s response, but again he had no words for her. He simply gaped back. Only when she could no longer stand the suspense did she reach forward and touch his chest. She often did this when he slept to assure herself of a heartbeat, but this time she let him see. She needed him to understand again her terror from the hospital room three months ago. Finally, she returned the squeeze of his hand, imagining the pulse in his fingers as she did.

“I will not let you die,” she sobbed. Then again, “I can’t watch you die.”

Jim wasn’t quite the same for the rest of the night. By now she could recognize when he slipped into fever induced hazes and had painstakingly learned how to cope with them. He talked out of his head for the next hour, but slowly, painfully, his stomach began to settle. Hope tempted her heart, but she was so tired, so, so tired. 

She ignored it. 

When he had finally stilled for longer than a few minutes, she knew the worst was over. She knelt down and stared into his eyes for a few moments. They looked glassy and tired. Hers probably looked the same. She reached out and grazed his jaw line. His skin still burned, but at least both pain and vomiting had subsided. She could handle fever. She was a pro at fever by now. 

“Do you think you can walk,” she asked him quietly. 

He blinked groggily back at her, but nodded. 

She pulled him shakily to his feet and placed one of his arms over her shoulder, leaving one of hers around his waist. She was reminded of the first time they had done this, that first eventful day in the office where all of this had begun. 

He’d lost so much weight since then, yet now, as she supported him, he felt heavier than ever. 

She deposited him onto the bed and he curled inwards, knees to his chest, still trembling. Their trash can was dragged around to his side, and placing a cool hand on his neck she whispered, “It’s here if you need it.”

Please, God, don’t let him need it. 

Pam turned the lamp off and felt her way around to her side of the bed again, cursing silently as her toe met the bed post. She fell as roughly as Jim had back into her spot. Sleep beckoned her against her better judgment. She should probably stay up for a while to make sure he fell back asleep, but her pillow was softer than she remembered and soon it enveloped her into unconsciousness. 

It was still dark when she woke again to the sound of fumbling beside her. She pushed herself up just as Jim did the same. He was groping frantically for the trash can, but in his disorientation had knocked it over. The back of his hand was pressed firmly over his mouth, and she knew the worst was coming. 

“Hold on. Hold on. Hold on,” she plead with him as he gagged against his hand. 

She fought to disentangle herself from the covers and practically fell out of bed, feeling her way around to him with desperate abandon. 

But it was too little too late. 

Jim gagged again and vomited onto the sheets, shaking violently as he did. They both sat in silence, both trembling, Jim hanging his head looking very much humiliated. 

“Sorry,” he wept finally. “I’m sorry. I-“

He covered his face with his hands. It felt foreign to Pam to see her husband so broken.  It stung her and again the thought struck her, “It’s not always like this. This is different. Something’s wrong.”

She kissed the top of his head as it hung. 

“They’re just sheets,” she soothed and pulled them away from him. “Let’s go get on the couch.”

The tears had already blended with the sweat on his face when she pulled him shakily from the bed. 

“Come on,” she coaxed and led him down the hall to the living room. 

He fell onto the couch and it seemed to absorb him instantly. Pam picked up a spare blanket and draped it over him, but he did not seem to notice. He had already drifted back off. 

Pam, abandoned again to her anxiety, knelt on the floor beside him, reaching forward to press her fingers firmly against his chest, assuring herself again, as he slept, of a heartbeat. 

XXX

When Jim woke the next morning, he blinked first up at the bright sun streaming in through the slitted blinds. Then, in what seemed an exhausting summoning of strength, he rolled himself over, blinking secondly at the small trash can placed directly beside his head. 

“How do you feel,” she asked softly. 

Jim started, finally noticing her sitting on the coffee table beside him. 

“How long have you been there,” he croaked, squinting up at her. 

His eyes had dark circles under them that could no longer fully be hidden by charm. She felt her heart sink low again and did not attempt to humor him with her usual brave smile. 

“All night,” she responded. 

He reached out for her hand and grasped it firmly, looking surprised to find himself on the couch. 

“How did I get in here,” he questioned her. 

She was almost relieved that he didn’t remember, that way she could sift through the chaos of the past few hours and choose what he knew about last night. After all, he had enough to deal with without knowing the whole truth. 

“You were really sick last night,” she told him honestly, playing with his fingers as she did. “We were up for hours. I think it was one of the worst nights we’ve had.”

Jim swallowed again. Again, it looked painful. 

“You didn’t want to lay in the bed,” he questioned, looking already suspicious of her. 

She sighed inaudibly. She was hoping he wouldn’t ask, although she knew that he would. 

Again she decided on the truth. 

“Well...,” she spoke softly, offering him a grimace, the first slight form of smile she’d managed all morning. 

Jim groaned. He must know that she was about to deliver humbling news. 

“What did I do,” he asked. 

“Nothing on purpose,” she interjected assuringly. “Just...you were just really sick and...you threw up on the sheets.”

He immediately pulled away from her and ran his hand through his hair, settling finally over his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed, looking absolutely mortified. 

She could not bring herself to tell him anything more. He didn’t need to know about the tears on either side. She pulled his hand from his face.  

“You were really, really sick,” she said again. “You get a pass.”

She smirked at him, hoping to ease his humiliation if only slightly. Then suddenly he asked her the question she’d really been dreading. 

“What time do you have the big lunch with that customer?”

“Oh,” she sighed, squeezing his hand slightly. “It’s at noon, but I’m going to call and cancel.”

Although she’d already decided hours ago that she wasn’t going, her heart sunk as she heard herself say it out loud. 

“But this is a huge sale! You’ve been talking about it for weeks,” he said looking genuinely confused. “What changed?”

The question was laughable. How could she possibly leave him alone like this? He didn’t remember last night. He couldn’t understand how real that was or how close she’d been to taking him back to the hospital. She couldn’t explain any of that to him so she just offered him another small smile. 

“Oh...I changed,” he whispered, looking away from her again. 

She felt him intangibly pull away from her once more. 

“It’s just, you still have a low fever and after last night...I just don’t want to leave you right now,” she explained urgently. 

Pam felt the familiar sting of guilt as she watched her husband try to push himself higher up on his pillow, to show her feebly that he was not weak. 

She knew he was not weak. 

“Hey, look, I’m alright now,” he assured her. “Last night was just a super bad reaction. It’s over. See?”

He smiled at her, a super cheesy smile, looking a little more crazed than actually happy. She returned it, but continued to stare at him, feeling very much still worried. Last night continued to haunt her. 

“I think I can survive two hours without you,” he croaked with a smirk of his own. “As fantastic as you are.”

Pam’s smile became a bit more genuine, if only just barely, though her inner conflicts still dueled just below the surface. 

She finally settled on, “Will you at least eat something before I go?”

The little color in Jim’s face drained again. Noticing his hesitation, she added earnestly, “You have to eat something. You haven’t had anything in days.”

He knew better than to protest twice. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he nodded, and she left in the direction of the kitchen. 

After a few minutes of solitary silence, she heard her cell phone ring. 

“Hey, mom,” she said, opening a can of soup. “Will you be here soon to get the baby? I have to leave in a few minutes.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. My tire blew out on the way here,” she heard. 

“Oh my god. Are you okay,” Pam asked, feeling her chest tighten a little. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine! I just feel terrible that I can’t come get the baby right now. I know that meeting of yours is very important!“

Pam stomached another dip in the emotional roller coaster. 

“No, of course, we understand. I’ll just cancel my meeting,” she said thickly, refusing to cry. 

“Pam, are you sure you’re alright? I’m so sorry, darling.”

“No, no I’m fine, really Mom. I’m just tired...and a little overwhelmed,” her voice broke. Silence followed as her mom waited for an explanation. “I just have a lot to juggle and Jim can’t really do much anymore. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“It is a lot of pressure. You’re handling it better than anyone could ask of you. He knows that.”

“I know,” Pam whimpered. “He’s so good to me and I know he tries to help with the baby and the house, but I just see how exhausted he is and I don’t want him to hurt himself. If anything ever happened to him I...I could- I don’t know what I would do, Mom.”

Pam drew a shaky breath. 

“But I have to go. Jim’s soup is ready,” she sighed. “I’m hoping he holds it down. If not, we have to go back to the hospital. He’s really weak right now.”

“Okay sweetheart. My tow truck is here anyway. Keep me informed and call me if you need anything. Alright?”

“Okay, Mom. Thank you again for everything. Bye.”

When she returned from the kitchen, Jim was curled on his side with a pillow over his face to block the light. She tapped on it, and he pulled it away, blinking up at her again. 

“Hey,” she said, trying desperately to disguise the disappointment in her voice, “Can you sit up for me?”

Jim pushed himself up again on shaky arms, and she placed the pillow in his lap, setting a bowl of steamy clear liquid on top of it. He stared down at the bowl, swallowing hard. She knew he must still feel terrible. 

“Small sips,” she encouraged, and Jim reluctantly obliged. 

“You better get dressed,” he suggested after a tentative spoonful. 

She sighed deeply, glancing from his eyes to the window. She hated lying to him, but it was for his own good. Right? 

“Actually, I changed my mind. My mom’s tire blew out on the way here this morning and,” she said glancing back at him momentarily, “I didn’t really want to go anyway so that actually gives me an excuse to stay here with Cece.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. 

Jim tightened his jaw and sat up a littler taller, saying, “I can watch the baby,” as he did. 

Pam squinted back at him, a small smile playing across her lips. He was such a good father, but she couldn’t risk him hurting himself just so she could make some sale at work.  

“Sweetheart, that takes a lot of energy and I just don’t think...”

“That I can take care of my own daughter,” he finished, a sudden bite to his tone. 

Pam was taken back. 

“No! That’s not what I said! It’s just I worry about you. That’s all. You need rest, Jim.”

“Or you worry that I would let something happen to her,” he said, aggressively stirring his soup. 

She reached out and grabbed his wrist. He barely looked up at her. 

“I trust you completely,” she assured him softly. “But I have to make some really hard decisions right now. At least until you get back on your feet...and I’m sorry if those decisions hurt your feelings.”

Jim snorted, and a new wave of guilt soaked her in regret. She hated that he felt less than. Then finally, he set down his spoon, took a deep breath, and stared deeply into her eyes. 

“Please let me do this,” he requested of her. “I need to do this.”

She hesitated for several long moments. The urgency in his voice compelled her to give him whatever he requested, but her better judgment screamed no. He continued to meet her gaze imploringly. Did he not understand the stakes at hand? She pushed down her fear before responding, “I think you do,” and, squeezing his wrist, got up to go get ready. 

By the time she returned, Jim had set the half eaten soup on the coffee table and ducked down into his blanket, dozing in and out while he waited. He looked drained and again she wondered if leaving was the right thing.

“The sheets,” she reminded herself with a whisper, and after taking the warm comforter out of the drier, laid it heavily across Jim. He stirred and looked up at her. 

“I just took the comforter out of the drier,” she explained. “Thought you might like it.”

He smiled gratefully. 

She set the baby monitor down on the coffee table, next to the half eaten soup, then reached out and stroked his cheek. His skin was still warm, probably the remnant of last night’s fever, but she savored his touch all the same. 

“Cece’s down for her nap and if you’re lucky she’ll be out for the next two hours so you can sleep, too. I’ll be back soon,” she said. Then as an afterthought, “After I bag this sale, of course.”

“That’s right,” Jim assured her. “Easy out.”

“You’ll call me if you need anything, right,” she asked, feeling strong enough now to manage a brave face. “Not that you’ll need it, though, because you’re capable,” she added. 

“We’re fine,” he assured her again, and pulled her forward to kiss her goodbye. 

She smiled at him despite her anxiety, then stood to leave.

“Hey,” he called, catching her just before she shut the door. 

She stuck her head back through the frame. 

“You look so pretty,” he said, smiling proudly and looking her up and down. 

She rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same before saying, “Bye babe,” with a soft slam of the door. 

As she got in the car, she took a deep calming breath, assuring herself that it was just two hours and her family would be very much still intact when she returned, hopefully with her first major sale under her belt. 

XXX

Reality happens suddenly, like a car crash or a thunderclap. 

Pam could hardly contain her excitement. The lunch, while taking a little longer than she had anticipated, had gone better than she could’ve dreamt. When she walked into the restaurant, all her cares melted as she stepped into the role of Pam Halpert, business woman. She answered every question with a smooth customer assurance. Jim was going to be so proud of her. She’d felt so weighted lately, but now as she drove down the highway back towards her house, the heaviest problem on her mind was should she call Jim and tell him now or wait and surprise him in person? She debated for only a few seconds before excitement got the better of her and she caved, whipping out her phone and calling Jim. 

It rang several times before going to voicemail. 

“He’s probably with the baby,” she thought, but still some unknown anxiety surfaced within her. 

She tried again. It went to voicemail again. This time she left one. 

“Hey, babe. I’ll probably be home before you even hear this, but if I’m not, call me back. I’ve got great news!”

An ambulance passed her in the opposite direction, and she covered her ear to block out the siren. 

“I’ll see you soon. Love you,” she finished, then hung up, that uneasy feeling growing stronger by the second.

She drove faster. 

The next ten minutes seemed to draw themselves out despite her self assurances that he was okay. He was just with Cece, who was also okay. She tried calling again, but again there was no answer. Her stomach tightened painfully. 

“C’mon Jim,” she begged, and drove still faster. 

Traffic rules suddenly became traffic guidelines as she raced home to her family. Jim was okay. Cece was okay. She was okay. They were playing. They were napping. Did Jim even have his phone when she left?

She turned down their street and saw the lights before anything else, a cop car. Was it in her driveway or their neighbors? She knew the answer before she could accept it. 

The cop car was parked in front of her home. 

She pulled up to the curb and flung herself from the vehicle, neglecting to shut the door. An officer met her three steps later. 

“Mrs. Halpert,” he asked. 

“What happened? Is my daughter okay,” Pam interrupted. 

She tried to push past him, but he stopped her with one strong arm, guiding her gently towards a different car. 

“Right here. Right here,” he soothed. 

With one motion another officer emerged, holding Cece. 

Pam let out a shaky sigh of relief and took her baby back, holding her as close to her chest as she could. She rocked her back and forth burying her face in fine hair that smelt of baby shampoo.

“W-where’s my husband,” she stammered. “Where’s Jim?”

“They’ve got him in an ambulance. He’s on his way to the hospital right now. Do you have someone you can call?”

Pam ignored them. She suddenly felt dizzy. Her thoughts spun around in a whirlpool of panic. 

“Ma’am, you okay,” she heard. “Do you want to sit down?”

Pam shook her head slightly. “No...no,” she whispered. “I have to go. I need to- Um...tha-thank you for...I have to go. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t hear anything else that the officers said to her. She could not hear anything, but the blood pounding in her own ears. She set Cece in her car seat with trembling hands, fumbling around with the clasp until they made a connection. Then without a second look towards her house she pulled from the driveway and sped back in the direction from whence she came.

By the time Pam reached the highway again, she was covered head to toe in an icy sweat that seeped copiously from her panic. She was freezing and burning all at the same time, unable to decide on a satisfactory car temperature. Her hands shook uncontrollably on the steering wheel as an excruciating yet reminiscent pain traveled through her like electricity. She wanted to stop, hide, curl into herself, feeling as if her stomach might implode with anxiety. She thought for an instant that she would pass out under the strain, but she forced herself not to. She had the baby. 

She attempted, with great difficulty, to sit up a little straighter, focus on the road as her emotions span dizzyingly out of control. The pain in her chest and her throat and her stomach and arms and legs and her entire being distorted her vision, making it difficult to concentrate on which direction she was driving. 

She had known something was very wrong...and left him anyway. This was her fault. 

Panting, she gripped the steering wheel with one hand and with the other, fumbled around in search of her cell phone, gasping heavily for air as she could not find it. 

Even if she had it, what would she do?

The thought of Jim’s nearing death penetrated her scrambled mind for the first time since the night of his first surgery and she felt terror throw salt in her open wounds. 

Still half blinded by panic and veering dangerously off the road, she groped her way around between the seats with one hand still on the wheel, feeling minuscule relief as her fingers brushed the cold metal of the phone. But as suddenly as relief had come, misfortune took its place. 

She felt overwhelmingly and unexpectedly sick. 

She abandoned pride. She forgot shame. She jerked the car to the side of the road. Cars honked at her in frustration, but she cared none. She needed air. Her lungs were burning. Her mind now saw in double. Pam parked and threw herself roughly from the car for the second time that day. 

 It was not elegant. 

She had barely stepped around the car before she vomited onto the grass, tears of exertion draining from swollen eyes. Her hands, bracing themselves against the passenger door, shook so tremulously that she feared they may at any moment give and send her crashing face first into the weeds. 

“Pull it together, Pam,” she thought, until another harsh gag disrupted her and she spat distastefully into the grass. The panic attack tore through her, but there wasn’t time to ride it out. She had to get to the hospital. He couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t die. She couldn’t go back to her life without him. There was no life without him. 

“Not again,” she whispered. 

She heaved once more, but quickly pulled herself back together, hurrying shakily back to the driver’s seat. 

“Oh god,” she whimpered. “Oh god. Please don’t be dead. Please.”

Terror tore through her, shredding a path as it went. She was almost to the hospital. Just a few more miles. Pam gasped in the wake of more nausea, but swallowed it down again, an ominous reality dancing before her. 

Would she return home without a husband?

She couldn’t unravel. Jim wouldn’t want her to unravel. She had to carry the weight of the family. The time had come for her to bear it herself. Yet she could feel her will begin to crack. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as burning tears fell. “I can’t. I’m so tired,” she cried though she knew Jim could not hear her. 

The pain was unbearable. Her heart hammered against her collapsing stomach. An unwarranted stillness passed suddenly through her as the thought of Jim dying alone invaded her mind. She could not live without him. She would surely die, too. Maybe it was time to give up. Then, through the chaos, in the stillness, she heard their baby begin to cry. 

A new strength surfaced within her. Cece needed her mother. 

Without thinking, she drew herself back together shakily and on pure adrenaline, her emotions wracked with pain.

She pulled into the hospital parking lot as quickly as she dared, reaching a hand behind her to rub the leg of a very upset Cece. 

“Don’t cry. Everything’s okay,” she whispered soothingly to her. 

They needed a parking spot, a close one. As soon as she’d asked, the prayer was answered. Pam pulled into a spot close to the Emergency Room doors. She jumped out and pulled open the back door of the car. 

“Here we go,” she whispered, pulling out her baby and clutching her tightly to her chest as she took that first step.

She was halfway across the parking lot when pain surged through her once more. She sobbed audibly, still clinging to her daughter in an effort to sooth her. Cece echoed her mother’s internal scream. 

Everything moved in and out of focus, spinning horrendously as the panic attack surged again, sending Pam over the edge for the last time. She wept forcefully and inconsolably, spilling tears onto her child’s forehead. Her knees shook under her own weight as she stopped to wipe them with her sleeve. 

“It’s too much. I can’t,” she thought momentarily. 

She felt light headed at the thought of the impending news she would surely receive and  accidentally tripped over the curb, catching herself jerkily before she toppled over. 

Her arms felt like lead as the baby grew heavier and heavier with each second that her strength failed. She rocked Cece back and forth, fearing silently that she might drop her, but stepping through the sliding doors all the same. 

She dragged her feet to the front desk and braced herself heavily against it. Cece’s shrill scream pierced her pounding head. 

“Can I help you,” the receptionist finally asked. 

“My husband,” she mumbled, “He was brought in on an ambulance a few...few minutes ago,” she stuttered as slippery thoughts slid through her grasp and out of her mouth.

“What’s his name,” the woman asked. 

“Um...Jim Halpert,” she panted, beginning to cry again as his name ripped her insides apart. 

She felt dizzy and lightheaded and sick, but she no longer cared, ignoring herself to turn back to her screaming baby. 

“I’m right here. I’m staying right here. Don’t cry,” she begged, slipping down into a seat to talk to her daughter. “I won’t leave you alone, ever. Just breathe,” she whispered. 

“Breathe,” she whispered again. 

“Breathe.”