The Nephew

The Office

Chapter two

"We are always too busy for our children; we never give them the time or interest they deserve. We lavish gifts upon them; but the most precious gift, our personal association, which means so much to them, we give grudgingly"

~Mark Twain

The sign said 'All You Can Eat', that seemed good enough to Jim. Besides, it wasn't every evening he trudged over to a buffet for dinner. Of course, it wasn't every evening he ate with his coworkers, either.

Indeed, the entire body of Dunder Mifflin had arrived for Phyllis Lapin's birthday party. Michael was running around frantically, trying to get the birthday girl to take pictures with most everyone at the restaurant. Dwight was inspecting the array of vegetables with a disapproving scowl, and the warehouse guys were helping themselves to thirds.

Jim, well, he sat by himself, picking at his food carelessly and thumbing through a newspaper. He was trying to check on the Penn Quakers men's basketball team. He didn't care much for college sports, but his Philadelphia 76ers weren't playing, so he had to settle. Besides, he really liked how that Ibrahim Jaaber was playing. Now, where was that sports section?

The door opened with a little ding, sounding the arrival of another customer. Jim didn't acknowledge the noise, but others began to smile and wave.

"Pam! Hey, over here!"

Jim's head shot up. She was here. He thought she would never come.

She looked beautiful.

Pam tucked some hair behind her ear, waving back to Michael. She then smoothed out her dress. Jim watched her longingly. A dress. A simple, yet elegant dress. Who knew such a plain garment could make her look so pretty?

With a clatter, Jim's fork slipped from his limp fingers.

Moving towards the noise, Pam noticed Jim. He had a very peculiar look on his face, as if he were torn between reaching towards his silverware and pushing it aside. Frowning, she noticed that he sat alone. His suit jacket was off, his tie a little loose. He looked rugged, and, although a little uncomfortable, he looked handsome.

Jim swallowed hard, waving to Pam with two fingers. She smiled and walked over to him, setting down her purse and peacoat.

"Room for one more?" her voice was ever so sweet. All Jim could do was nod weakly. He watched as she took the seat across from him.

"I'm not really that hungry," she explained. "Besides, I'm not sure how edible this food is."

"Yeah." Jim laughed. "Right." It was weird for him that she declined food. Almost like she was dieting or something. The last time Pam dieted, as if she needed to lose weight, was for her wedding with—

With Roy.

Jim's smile faded, and he looked down at his nearly empty plate. Just the thought of Roy Anderson sent him back in on himself, surrounded by guilt and anger. And Pam. He was always surrounded by Pam.

"Jim, what is it?" Pam cocked her head to the side, frowning.

"Nothing," Jim shrugged, hurriedly thinking up some story to convince her he was all right. "I was just thinking about all the…daughters that came to work today."

"Are you thinking of your niece?"

"Vanessa?" Jim scoffed. "Larissa and her husband moved to Maine. I couldn't have brought Vanessa if I tried."

"Does your sister contact you much?" Pam asked softly. Jim stopped chewing for a second, setting down his fork. His sister was not someone he or his brothers talked about much. She was always too good for them.

"No." Jim muttered. "No. Not me. I'm the youngest; she wouldn't want to talk to me."

"Aw, you're the baby." Pam joked with a goofy grin.

"Ha ha." Jim rolled his eyes. "You and my brothers, always giving me a hard time."

"I can't imagine," Pam shook her head and leaned back against the booth, letting her head rest on the soft padding. "My sister and I have always been close."

"You get used to it." Jim shrugged. He suddenly realized how whiny he sounded, how he was turning this into his sob story, his miserable, untold memoir. "Uh," Jim cleared his throat. "I still get to hang out with my nephew. He always wants me to come to his Little League games."

"Because you're a Little League expert."

"Naturally, yes." Jim sat up straighter, pretending to look dignified. "I am of the highest caliber in such sport."

"Coach-pitch." Pam widened her eyes. "That takes effort."

"No," Jim chided her playfully. "Not coach-pitch. Not even T-ball. No, young Elijah has graduated to Little League."

"Your brother used to always call the office, asking me to remind you about his son's T-ball game." Pam remembered.

"Pete?" Jim clarified. "Yeah. He thinks T-ball is equivalent to the Major Leagues."

"You always said no." Pam pressed.

"I was working." Jim shrugged, but he wished he could take back his excuse. He knew that he devoted little time to his family. "It's just," he mulled over his words. "I enjoy the game, sure, but my brothers always end up-"

"Pranking you?" Pam finished with a knowing smile. "Your brothers love to play pranks, don't they?"

"Yeah." Jim scoffed. "That's an understatement."

"What about your sister, does she like that sort of stuff?" Pam asked curiously.

Jim laughed, shaking his head. "Larissa hates practical jokes—she always has."

"What is she like?" Pam had to know.

"Pretty." Jim answered slowly, after some hesitation. "She's very pretty. I don't know, she's the oldest out of us, and she makes sure everyone knows."

"She's confident," Pam mused.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "She's in charge of her life, and her husband. But he's pretty good at taking orders."

Pam looked down, frowning. Larissa must be so different from her. She was neither confident or the oldest. Or pretty. Pam didn't think she was very pretty. If that was the kind of girl Jim grew up with, then how was he supposed to think about her?

Jim shifted uncomfortably. Apparently, Pam didn't like the quip. Perhaps she was thinking about Roy. Jim made a mental note not to mention the word 'husband' again in future conversations.

"Well, here." Jim slipped out his wallet, searching through an array of family pictures until he found a wrinkled photo. "This is my sister."

Pam took the small photograph, her heart sinking at the sight. Larissa was gorgeous, with long, tumbling, dark hair, a beautiful complexion, and a pearly, white smile. And her husband. Oh. Strong build, short, cropped hair, and a military uniform donned on his broad shoulders. What was that? Navy? Something like that.

Vanessa, their daughter, sat on her father's lap, smiling at the camera as it fixed this moment in time. She looked just like her mother, her hair just as dark and long. She had her father's eyes. She was beautiful. Pam could never be like this. She could never be the perfect wife. That's why Roy left.

Something was wrong, Jim could tell. Pam seemed to be sinking on herself as she stared at the photo. She seemed entranced with the picture.

"Uh," Jim cleared his throat. "Daniel, my brother-in-law, his family has a long line of men in the Coast guard, so, uh, so is he."

"They're a lovely-looking family." Pam muttered, sliding the photo back across the table.

"Sure…" Jim put the picture back and slipped his wallet into his pocket. "I haven't seen them in a while. But, I mean, for the most part, Larissa's just a regular sister and-"

"Well, what about your nephew? And your other brother? Does Tom have any kids?"

"Um-"

"Can I have your attention?" A strong voice boomed over a microphone. Eventually, the noise died down. Customers not involved with Phyllis's party looked around in confusion.

Jim was glad for the distraction. He didn't like talking so much about himself. He wanted to know about Pam, no share is life story.

"Is this thing on? Testing, testing." Bob Vance pounded the microphone with a meaty finger. Jim and Pam glanced at each other, both suppressing grins.

"Good evening one and all, and thank you for coming to wish my wonderful girlfriend a happy birthday." Bob beamed at the motley crew of white and blue collar workers. Michael cheered.

"I'd like to share a story," Bob continued. "If you don't mind, of course." he looked over to Phyllis, who shook her head, flushing. Jim leaned back, this would take a while.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Jim jumped at the noise. Whose phone was that? People around him fished through pockets and purses to see if their phones were ringing.

Ring.

Oh. That was his phone. Pam was giving him an amused smile, feigning annoyance. He shrugged helplessly at her, pulling out his flip phone.

Larissa.

"Well, who is it?" Pam whispered. From further ahead in the room, Bob Vance droned on, taking short breaks to drink. Pam wasn't interested in the slightest.

"It…It's my sister." Jim frowned, staring at the phone in disbelief. Why would she be calling him?

"You said she never called you!" Pam pointed at him cunningly. "Well!"

"She doesn't." Jim muttered. "She never calls."

"Oh." Pam could sense Jim's change in mood. His phone still rang. He still stared at it blankly. People were beginning to frown. "Answer it," she touched his arm gently. "We'll all be here when you return."

"Yeah. Okay." Jim got up quickly. He didn't know how much time he had until the call went to voicemail. He headed towards the door.

"No way." Dwight Schrute was suddenly at the door, blocking Jim's way to fresh air. To solitude. "You can't bail on this party."

Ring.

"Hey, is Michael choking on that carrot?" Jim pointed over to Michael, who was listening to Bob's monologue. However, from where Dwight was standing, Michael was out of view.

"Michael!" Dwight yelled, running over to his boss.

Rolling his eyes, Jim slipped out the door.