Disclaimer: I have no ownership of The Office.
Hey guys, I'm not going to even explain how sorry I am for such a late update. I'd like to make excuses because of school, work, the gym, friends, the holidays. . . blah blah blah. None of that could excuse for how late this is. Anywaaaaay, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I promise this time, updates will come soon. Pinky-promise :)
Understanding
Jim Halpert crossed his legs, leaning backwards in his chair. His eyes narrowed as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. Pam was watching him, liking the way his brown hair curled at the ends. He must have seen her in the corner of his eye, because he turned his head and smiled at her. It was a comfortable smile, so familiar and genuine, and the way his lips turned up told her he was happy she was there. Pam convinced herself that the sudden race in her heart's beat had nothing to do with Jim and his heartwarming smile. Nothing, she repeated over and over in her head.
Jim hung up the phone after telling the aggravated client that he'd connect her to one of their most friendly customer service reps, Kelly Kappour. Jim got up from his seat and headed over to Pam's desk. She had on that face where she was pretending to be doing her work but was actually looking at something on the Internet.
"Looking at porn again, Beasley?"
Pam gazed away from her screen to look at Jim. In that was only once and it was a sex tape."
"So are you saying a sex tape isn't porn?"
"Yes I am. Why? You disagree, Halpert?"
She's awfully cute when she becomes competitive, Jim thought. "What are you really looking at?" he said, leaning forward to get a better view of the computer screen.
"It's this art school in New York," Pam said and propped her elbows on the desk, cupping her face inside her tiny hands. "They've got everything there—web designing, sculpturing and painting . . . a lot of stuff. It looks, I dunno, really, really nice, I think."
Instead of looking at the screen, Jim watched Pam. He was fond of the way her curly locks framed her face, and how she bit her lip in her pauses. He especially liked her eyes when she spoke of something she was passionate about—they lit up her entire face, bringing all her delicate features to life. It was in these moments that he was deeply in love with Pam; he knew that for the rest of his life, it would always be her. Everything he did and did not do, always led back to Pam.
"Then go," he urged. "Do it."
"I can't," she sighed.
"You can, you're so talented, Pam. You're such a great artist. And you'd do amazing in art school."
"You think?"
"Of course."
They both smiled.
"Hey, you wanna go grab some lunch?" Jim suggested.
"Oh, I can't. Roy and I are actually going out." She peered at her watch. "Well, we were supposed to be gone by now. I don't know what's taking him so long," she said distracted, looking at the door.
Jim shifted his weight from one foot o the other and cleared his throat. "Well I'll see you later then," he said.
Before walking away, Jim smiled. But it wasn't the one Pam was used to. It didn't match the worn feeling in his eyes. Before she could think about it, Roy walked through the door.
****
Halfway through her grilled chicken salad, Pam realized something significant that she had been hiding from herself for a very long time: When she was with Roy, she didn't feel . . . whole. She couldn't quite explain it or put a label on it, but she just knew that the Pam she was with Roy was not the Pam she was with Jim. It struck her harder than her father's slap did in junior high when she mouthed off to her mom. It was like realizing that a big chunk of your life was taken away from you, and it left Pam with an aching, throbbing feeling inside, as if her heart was ripped out of her chest and replaced with emptiness.
"Roy," she whispered, her voice like sandpaper. He was in the middle of telling her a story of how Darryl got so drunk "he puked all over random this dude's windshield".
"Yeah?"
That instant, images of the years passed flooded in and out of the chambers of her mind. She saw her graduation from Valley View High School, the first time she tried seafood, the unforgettable moment when she realized she wanted nothing more than to be an artist. And all of these memories, all of these significant periods of her life, Roy wasn't there. He was in her life, but he was never in her heart. As she looked into Roy's blue eyes, she saw everything that wasn't there; all the things she needed--support, friendship, laughter, romance--were nowhere to be found. A piece of her altered as the truth set in.
"Honey?" Roy said, trying to get her attention. "What's going on?"
Her lungs weren't supplying enough air. Taking a shakey breath, Pam unwound what she had been tucking away for so long.
"I can't marry you, Roy. I can't . . . I can't be with you."
A cold silence filled between them.
"What?" Roy finally choked out.
She barely heard the word. Suddenly, her legs responded and she was getting up from the table, going to the nearest exit.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to Roy's furious screams from behind her. She opened the door, leaving Roy alone in the restaurant, and headed for somewhere very far from here.
