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Twelve:  Drummers Drumming

“What is that?”  Jim could not take another second.  The incessant pounding was driving him slowly insane.

He swivels in his chair, gazes back at Pam.  She seems surprisingly oblivious.

Up until now it had been a relatively quiet day in the office.  There was some sort of flu going around, and most of the desks were empty.  He gazes around the office once more and could still hear it.  Finally he stands and walks over to her desk.

“Pam.”

She sits there, head down, appearing to ignore him.

“Pam?”

Again he’s met with no response.

“PAAAAAAAAAAM!!”  He reaches out and shakes her shoulder.

Her head pops up and she jumps nearly a foot in the air.  “Oh my God.  What?!”

He leans over her desk and smiles down at her.  “Pam.  Is there trouble with your hearing?”

“What?  You’ve lost that loving feeling?”  Pam looks at him confused.  “Wow.  I thought you hated Top Gun?”

“No.  I asked if you have trouble hearing – which – is now obvious.”  He looks at her quizzically.  “Pam!”

It takes another minute for realization to dawn on her.  She giggles as she reaches up and pulls a set of earplugs from her ears.

“What’s going on?” She smiles back at him.

“That is what I was trying to find out from you – but it seems you came prepared.”

She picks up the earplugs and tosses them in her hand.  “Well – I was a girl scout.”  She replies proudly as she catches them in her fist.

 He narrows his eyes at her.  “Yeah right.  For like five minutes.  You told me you got kicked out when you were just a ‘Brownie’.”

Her face falls and she shakes her head in shame.  “Do you have to rub that in my face Jim?  It was so sad.  I just couldn’t get the knack of macramé.”

“I like to think of it as a cautionary tale.  You didn’t even make it to cookie time.”  He laughs back at her.

“I know.  Denied of the opportunity to peddle Samoas and Thin Mints.  Tragic.  I tell you.”

As he watches her closely Jim can feel himself, actually feel himself sliding backwards.  He clears his throat, straightens up and tries to regain his composure. 

“So…earplugs?”

“Yes.  The best line of defense against this.”

“Against what?!”  He still can’t place the racket – he just knows it’s horrible – whatever it is.

“Kevin bringing in his electronic drum set and having a jam session with…well…whoever he can get to join him.”  She grins widely.

“So that’s what that is!?”

“Jim.  I can’t believe you can’t recognize it.  It’s music, man.  Totally far out.  It’s all part of the creative process."  She giggles.  "I mean, remember those band videos?  Never give up on your dream…”

Even as she says it she’s sorry.   She ducks her head again so she doesn’t catch the look on his face.   She knows it’s unfair of her to keep bringing up things like that, especially anything about that day in particular, when she knows he’s moved on.  It’s just that there’s so much that’s happened between them, so many shared moments, having a conversation with him without mentioning things from their past is next to impossible.

She coughs softly – meets his eyes again.  “Anyway.  Kevin says Stacey won’t let him practice at home anymore so Michael agreed to let him practice here once a month.  Today’s the day.”

Jim strained to distinguish one sound from another.  It’s impossible as the cacophony is quite deafening.  “Is that a banjo?”

Pam nods in acknowledgement.  “Ah yes.  Andy.  He’s today’s special guest star.  That addition, well, that’s all you Halpert.”   Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at him smugly.  “You created that monster.  Are you happy now?”

He knows he’s guilty, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s quite sure his head is about to explode.   “How long does this usually go on?” 

She checks her watch.  “Another hour or so.”

Jim sighs and then grumbles.  “Well.  That’s just great.  I really have to get this report done.”

Pam simply stares at him.  “Wow.”

“What?”

“You really sound like my dad.”  She deadpans.

He can’t keep the smile off his face.  “Shut. Up.”

“I don’t know Jim.” She smirks. “Bottled water, new suits…gotta get that report done…”  She says as she pounds a fist on her desk to emphasize each word.

He rolls his eyes, tries to think of a sufficient comeback.  “Yeah well you can hardly talk.  What’s with the ponytail?”

Her cheeks flush pink.  “What?”  She says defensively as she runs a hand over the length of it.

“Um.  Nothing.  It’s just that you’ve never worn your hair like that…before.”  As the words leave his lips, he realizes all at once this conversation isn’t about what’s new, but about what’s not.

“You’re not the only one who can change Jim.”  Pam says quietly, the laughter gone from her voice.

He doesn’t need to be reminded.  “I know.”  He replies.

She pushes back her chair and grabs her purse.  She picks up the earplugs she holds them out to him.  “Well.   It’s late...so I’m gonna go.  Here.  Take them.  I promise.  No cooties.”  She gives him a weak smile.  “They’re not the best but maybe you can get your work done.”

There it is again.  The unbelievable awkwardness, rearing its ugly head.  Will they ever be able to get past it?  He wonders.

Regardless, the look on her face is killing him.  He wants to make it better...somehow.

“Pam.”  He pleads softly.

She can’t.  She won’t.  Not now.  Not yet.  There’s nothing else she can do but try and ignore him. 

“Have a good night.”  She calls over her shoulder as she snags her coat and walks out the door.

Dejected and confused, Jim sinks back in his chair and regards his computer screen.  He puts the earplugs in but it’s hopeless.  He can still hear the drumming clear as day.

As he tries desperately to finish his work the irony isn’t lost on him.  Such a small piece of armor is nothing but a weak defense against something this insistent.