The Nephew

The Office

Chapter six

"When I do something in my family because I really enjoy it, then my duty has become my pleasure. And it is a pleasure for all the people around me"
~Dr. Jess Lair

Pam's mind was rushing with countless theories and questions. The phone call Jim received last night? How he was acting? And now, he had the number of a funeral home on his desk?

Someone had died. That had to be it. Someone must have died. But who? A relative? And why would he be the one to make the funeral arrangements?

Is that why he was gone, now? Was he making the arrangements?

Pam put her head in her hands, trying desperately to clear her mind. Think, she told herself, when did you last talk with Jim about family?

They had talked about his siblings and their children, but not about his parents. They had talked about brothers, but Larissa Halpert, Jim's sister, was mentioned only briefly. And then she had called and assumingly changed everything.

With a desperately optimistic thought, Pam figured Jim was selling paper to a funeral home. Just another funeral home in Pennsylvania. No matter at all. There was no reason to be worried.

The door to Dunder Mifflin creaked open with a resounding entrance. Pam wrote yet another note about WD-40 to give to the maintenance man, and then looked up.

Jim Halpert slipped off his gloves, his body relaxing slightly as he entered the heated room. The first person he saw was Pam, her concerned eyes catching his. He paused for a moment, pretending to look down at something. Truth was, he didn't want to look at Pam, the one person who could see right through him, the one person who knew how miserable he was feeling just by looking into his eyes.

Shrugging off his jacket, Jim ignored his gut a braved a smile at the receptionist—his receptionist. Well, he wished. Pam caught his smile and returned it.

"Hey," he whispered softly.

"Getting your hands dirty during lunch break?" Pam asked mischievously, trying her best to distract Jim the best she could, even if she had no idea what was going on.

"Nope," Jim chuckled, shaking his head. He held up his hands for good measure. They were spotless, if not a little pink from the cold. "Squeaky clean. How 'bout you?"

"No dirt here." Pam held up her own hands, palms facing Jim. It was almost like she was surrendering.

Jim's smile faded as he saw the numbers scrawled onto her palm. He couldn't decipher if he were angry, concerned, or relieved. Angry that Pam had violated his privacy. Concerned that something had happened to her family. Relieved he didn't have to tell her about Julia, Pete, or Elijah.

"Why would you need to call that number?" His voice came out dull and lifeless.

Confusion flickered across Pam's face before reality set in. She lowered her hands immediately, but it was no use. She had been caught.

Jim, please don't be angry. "I was worried about you." Pam whispered, looking down. She brushed some light brown curls out of her face.

"About me?" Jim repeated faintly.

"You were acting so strangely last night, and when I saw the number on the desk I thought…I dialed it, Jim." Pam took in a deep breath. "But I hung up. As soon as the…home answered I hung up. I'm sorry." Her eyes were pleading, once they finally reached his gaze. All the spite left Jim's bones. Her honesty was humbling and surprising. He loved her so much.

Did he really have the right to be angry with her? If anyone should be cross with anyone, it would Pam. He had ruined her relationship, after all, with one kiss. That was all it took.

It had only taken one crash to kill Julia.

"Uh," Jim took in a deep breath, looking around the nearly-empty office for a moment before returning to Pam. "I went out."

"Yeah." Pam rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I got that."

"Yeah," Jim repeated with a nervous laugh. "I, uh, well, last night-"

Ring!

Jim scrambled for his phone. He thought it had frozen in his coat pocket or something, but, somehow, it was still ringing.

Just like last night. Just like when Julia had died.

With another, incessant thought, Jim's hands began to quake. He held the phone between his two palms, his fingers curled around the cold object. It kept ringing.

Something happened. Someone else died. Mom. Dad. Pete. Pete couldn't handle Julia's death. Elijah ran away. Elijah ran away and got killed.

"Jim," her voice brought Jim back to the real world, back to the office, back to Pam. Pam's hands came up to wrap around his, gently slipping the phone into her own grasp.

He averted his gaze, eyes glued to the clear coating of Pam's nail polish as she peered at his cell phone.

"It's Tom." Pam bit her lip. "Don't you-?"

"I can't." Jim interrupted quickly, his voice barely above an earnest whisper.

"Okay." Pam nodded, flipping open the phone.

Jim hadn't expected that. Oh, she was actually answering the phone. To talk to his older brother. She would hear the news first. Someone else had died. Something else had to have happened. And Pam would have to tell him. He peeled himself away from the receptionist's desk, pacing with no real purpose but to distract himself.

"Pam Beesly speaking."

"What?" Tom Halpert quickly cleared his throat, his voice coming out higher than when Pam last heard it. However, he returned to his normal octave after slight hesitation. Had he been crying? "Oh. Uh, hi."

"Hi." Pam returned awkwardly, not sure what to say. She watched Jim walk back and forth with large, incessant steps.

"Uh, yeah, you're Jim's friend, right? He's talked about you before." Tom continued. "Uh, is Jim busy or something? If he is, can you just tell him that her funeral arrangements have been made. According to Pete, the visitation is Thursday, and the funeral is Friday."

"Thank you, Tom." Pam nodded to herself, scribbling down the dates on a pad of paper.

"Yeah, no problem. This is the least I can do, anyway." Tom sighed long and low.

"And I'll make sure to tell Jim what's going on." Pam tried not to sound too much like a receptionist, and more like a friend. A friend to a friend's brother.

"Right."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Pam added thoughtfully. She wanted to be vague. Jim was just about to tell her what was going on, and he wanted to hear the explanation from him.

"Yeah." Tom cleared his throat again. "So am I. Tell Jim that he's not off the hook, here. I'll talk to him sometime later tonight. Nice speaking with you, Pam."

"You too." Pam whispered, smiling. She always enjoyed being around Tom and Pete, who usually managed to pull some sort of embarrassing prank on Jim. Well, she had only met them a few times, when they dropped off Jim after lunch or when they conspired with Dwight to pull a big prank on their youngest brother.

Biting her lip, Pam glanced over at Jim, who had slumped down in a chair, his head in his hands. His elbows rested on his desk. Getting up, Pam gently patted his shoulder. She pulled up a chair and handed him his phone back.

"The visitation is Thursday," Pam spoke softly when Jim slipped his phone into his pocket, sniffing. "The funeral is the next day."

Jim nodded vaguely, feeling numb. What could he say? What could he do?

"Jim, I still…I still don't really know what's going on." Pam tried next, cocking her head slightly. Jim glanced at her briefly before looking down again. "Do…do you want to talk about it?"

He let out a breathy laugh, groaning. Of course. Of course he wanted to talk to her. He just didn't know if he could say what he had to say without…well, getting emotional.

Pam reached out and took his limp hand, squeezing supportively. Jim took in a deep breath, his fingers curling around hers.

"My sister-in-law passed away."

Pam sat back, pulling Jim with her as their fingers remained intertwined. She ran her free hand along the back of her neck.

"P-Pete's wife. Julia. She was in a car accident." Jim was looking down, gently stroking the back of Pam's hand with a weary thumb.

"What about Elijah?" Pam whispered. She had remembered. Of course she had.

"I don't know." Jim shrugged helplessly. "I haven't seen him…I…I haven't seen Pete, either."

A silence fell over the two, surrounding them, cascading across their conjoined hands. Jim dared not look at Pam. Pam tried to think of something to say. He shut his eyes in defeat.

"I'm so sorry, Jim."

His eyes slipped open at her voice. He finally looked over.

A single tear slid down Pam's porcelain cheek, trailing her skin until it fell and landed on her blouse.

Reaching out, Jim wiped the small drop of water from the collar of her shirt. His fingers danced against the hollow of her neck as he removed any trace of tears. Her compassion awed him. She did not know his family, and here she was, crying for them. For Pete.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered, almost as if he were pleading with her to stop. "You don't know Pete or Elijah."

"I know you," Pam protested gently.

Jim froze, his hands falling limply to his side. Seconds later, the clock turned to a new hour, and people began to trickle into the office.