The Nephew
The Office
Chapter eight
"It is extraordinary that when you are acquainted with a whole family you can forget about them"
~Gertrude Stein
"All right, man, no more stalling." Jim's roommate, Mark, handed him a cold beer before joining him on the couch. Jim dully watched the small television in front of him, one hand curled around the slim bottle while the other grazed his chin dully.
"Hmm?" Jim looked up, eyebrows raised slightly.
"Dude," Mark sighed. "Are you even watching?"
"Sure I am." Jim made a point of fingering the remote that lain next to him on the cushion. "Gators are winning."
"Uh-huh." Mark rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
"What's up with you?" Jim grumbled.
"What's up with me? What's up with you?" Mark returned. "You're acting…different."
"I'm fine." Jim took a sip of beer.
"Yeah but this is March Madness, man. You go crazy for March Madness."
"I do not go crazy."
"Whatever, man. Not my problem." Mark got up. He was a twitchy sort of guy, never sitting still for long. He always told Jim he had better things to do then lay around and do nothing. Jim watched him pace around dully. He took another sip of beer.
"Aw sh—man, I forgot." Mark suddenly stopped his manic walking. "The visitation's tomorrow."
Jim was silent.
"Jim, man, I thought today was Tuesday, dammit."
Jim shrugged helplessly. "Doesn't matter." He took another swig of beer.
"Whatever, man, you know it does. You going alone?" Mark came closer to the television again. Jim was half convinced he just wanted to check the score of the game.
"To the visitation, yeah." Jim muttered.
"Oh. Okay."
"But not the funeral."
"Oh. Okay." Mark repeated, only partially listening by that point. "That's cool."
"Yeah." Jim drummed his fingers along his cheek. "Yeah."
"Yeah."
"I asked Pam to come."
"Whoa what?"Mark whipped around to face his roommate, eyes wide. "Dude!"
"Calm down, man." Jim flushed. "It's not a freaking date—it's a funeral."
"Who cares?" Mark threw up his hands. "You asked and she said yes. Why didn't you tell me, man?"
"You never asked!"
"How was I supposed to know?"
"All right, all right, all right." Jim sat up. "Listen: she just wanted to know if she could do anything to help. I didn't…I didn't really want to say anything…but I just did."
"Sure."
"Julia was family, man." Jim sighed, running a tired hand along his face. "She was family."
"Told you she'd come around." Mark laughed smugly, speaking about Pam again. "When you two stop fighting?"
"We weren't fighting." Jim defended himself, if not a little immaturely. "We just-"
"Weren't talking, I get it."
"Yeah." Jim shifted uncomfortably. "I never-" he paused, running a hand along his cheek, "well, nevermind."
"No, man, what's on your mind?" Mark frowned.
"Nothing. Forget about it."
I never knew how much I needed Pam until now.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. It's nothing."
I always knew how much I loved her, though. Always.
"Well, it's a wonderful Thursday morning here in Scranton, Pennsylvania, just rounding around eight o'clock-"
Jim rolled over on his side, shutting off his incessant alarm clock. Eight o'clock, he sighed, too early.
For all intensive purposes, Jim would have liked nothing more than to sleep through the day, to stay in bed until night came once more, until Julia's visitation ended. But it was no use; he didn't sleep a wink last night. He couldn't. Not when he was so apprehensive about this visitation. One little visitation that was sending him into a frenzy.
To face the facts, Jim had no idea how to act at this funeral. He hadn't seen Pete or Elijah since the accident, or anyone else in his family, for that matter. He didn't know how his parents would feel—they had loved Julia so much, like another daughter. Like the daughter that was actually there. And Julia's parents were always an issue. They were wonderful people, naturally, but Jim had only met them a handful of times and their names always seemed to slip through his provincial memory.
Worst of all, Jim realized with a jaded sigh, was that Pam wouldn't be with him today. She was only coming to the funeral. Only because he asked her to.
His phone lay discarded on his nightstand—he unplugged the device and flipped it open. No new voicemails. Nothing had happened since the last time he checked his phone. The Halperts were safe so far as he knew.
That also meant Michael Scott hadn't called him back. Jim had tried last night to get a hold of his boss, but Michael did not answer his call. Jim had left a message, stating that he would try to return to work after the visitation.
Pam would have berated him if she had heard him make that call. Work after a visitation? No way. Not in her book. He needed time to 'reflect and process', some crap like that that made no sense to him. No amount of time off work would resonate with him. He was locked into some sort of mode now, with Julia gone; he would work until there was no work to be done. He would work for her sake, for Pete and Elijah's sake. Work was the only way he knew how to support his family. The only way he knew how to react.
Jim glanced over at his clock again—8:05. Time never flew with him. Time stayed still and waited for him to move. He took the hint and tumbled out of bed.
Perhaps if he took too long picking out the right shirt to go with his suit he would miss the visitation entirely. Perhaps if he starting driving and took a wrong turn in the middle of nowhere he would miss the visitation. The ideas ran through his mind, tempting and taunting him. Just don't go.
He had to go. He had to. This was his family. This was his responsibility.
