"Alright. Thanks for being so timely with all of this. Yeah, I'll see you Monday. Thanks, Jan."
He snapped his phone shut, rubbed his large palm across his face, and weaved his fingers through the already tousled mop of hair, doing his best to avoid the looks his sister was currently flashing him from where she was perched on their parent's living room couch. With her feet tucked to the side, dark brown hair thrown up in a Saturday morning ponytail, and an old Scranton Volleyball t-shirt hugging her torso, Jim couldn't help but picture his sister as her 10 year old self. He wondered, for a fleeting moment, if he should grab them each a bowl of Frosted Flakes and see if he could find an episode of Power Rangers on Saturday morning cable.
"I can't believe you're going through with this."
He sighed as he claimed the spot next to her. Hanging his head between his knees, he shrugged.
"What else am I supposed to do, 'Riss? I have no future here."
The words echoed ones he'd said to the documentary crew not twenty-four hours ago. A future of selling paper in a stuffy office with mediocre coworkers, he could handle. A future without Pam? He would much rather exist elsewhere.
"No future here? Gee, thanks. What are we? Chopped liver?"
"Oh stop, you know that's not what I meant."
He made eye contact with her for the first time, but not before making his eye roll more than apparent.
"Okay, okay. That was unnecessary. But seriously, Jimmy. I know I told you to sleep on it before you made a decision, but I didn't literally mean wake up and tell HR to get the ball rolling."
He didn't respond right away, choosing instead to let his eyes wander around his parent's living room, the very same one he'd grown up in. In just forty-eight hours, this would no longer be a fifteen minute drive across town. It would be almost three, an entire state line away. Sunday dinners would be more like once a month rather than once a week. He couldn't drop by unannounced, have small talk in the kitchen with his mom and crack a beer with his dad and watch the game, wouldn't be able to hang out with his kid sister whenever he felt the want or the need.
But his family would always be there for him, would always have his back, just as they had last night when he'd barged through the door breathless and panicky. He had called Larisa on his way over, his short words enough to make her understand the nature of his visit. She'd been prepared with a brown paper bag, a bottle of water, and box of tissues. He knew that, no matter how far from home he strayed, they would always be there for him. It was the operative nature of that word home that was forcing him out of Pennsylvania.
She was his home.
And last night, with two simple words, she had shattered the very existence of the term for him.
I can't.
He had left the building in a literal struggle to breathe, having to concentrate all of his energy into forcing the air to fill his lungs and then exit back out into the cruel world again. Braced against the hood of his car to quell the dizziness, he had dialed Jan's number. He'd seen her leave. She'd be on the road. It was a quick conversation.
"I've decided to take the transfer."
"Great! I'll start the paperwork as soon as I get back tonight and we can get things moving. Did you have a specific start date set in mind? How much time do you think you'll need to wrap up in Scranton?"
"Oh, I wrapped up in Scranton tonight. If I could start this week, that'd be ideal."
"I'll do what I can."
"Thanks, Jan."
It had taken Pam less time to shatter his entire world than it had to change his place of employment.
He was grateful that Jan couldn't hear the earthquaking shudder in his voice, the way he was forcing the acidic words past his lips. Remnants of his episode tickled sore in his throat as Larisa cut back in.
"So, what'd your boss have to say?"
"She uh, she said that the HR department has three condo options for me already, that I can move in as early as Monday, and I can start my new position this week."
"What are you going to tell mom and dad?"
He smiled at his little sister, the hole in her flannel pajama pants poking out from where her chin now rested on her knees. She only wanted what was best for him.
"It's a vertical move in the company. They'll be glad that I'm taking the promotion. I know it'll be sudden, but I'm sure they'll eventually be okay with it."
He saw the worry flash across her brown eyes, a glassiness that he knew would eventually well into tears if he didn't stop her.
"Hey…"
He reached out a hand, unfurling hers from where they were wrapped around her thighs.
"I just...I know mom and dad will be okay. But what about you? You're going to be all alone out there and I…"
"I'm gonna be just fine, Rissa, I promise you."
He pulled her into a hug, and she instantly burrowed her head to his chest, something else he would miss about home.
"But I know you, Jim. You're running away from this problem, but it's just going to eat at you until it's withered you away, and I can't help you if you're in Connecticut."
He held onto her tighter, a pang of guilt twinging in his gut as he realized that his little sister shouldn't be holding this burden of protector; that was his job. The t-shirt he'd worn to the hospital the day she was born said just so.
"I'm gonna be okay. Not right away, but I will be. I promise."
Her smile was full of sadness as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand, not quite in time for their parents to enter the room.
"What's going on in here?"
"Mom, dad? I think we need to have a little talk."
Monday morning found him too quickly. He had spent the weekend alternating between spending as much time with his family as possible and throwing all of his worldly possessions into cardboard boxes. The current pile on the curb was larger than the one the morning after he and Mark had thrown their "First night in the new place rager," which was saying something. With this new life he was about to lead, he mimicked the purging of everything Scranton with the heaping pile of trash bags ready for the weekly pickup.
Holey jeans and ratty t-shirts, chargers to his first cell phone, a broken boombox.
A deflated basketball, a broken toaster, and Pam.
Pam.
No.
He was leaving her here, just like he was letting Mark keep the Xbox. Things that had at once roped all of his attention and kept him up for nights on end. He was leaving them behind.
Leaving her behind.
Stamford was a clean slate, a place where nobody knew him save for the boss he'd met only once before. No one knew his story; no one would toss him glances of sadness as he pined for a woman already spoken for. He could bury himself in his work, focus on himself for once, and forget about her.
But as he tossed items haphazardly into a box appropriately labeled JUNK, his fingers traced the edges of the tree she'd drawn all those weeks ago. The plastic frame did little to dull the lines that had begun as abstract wildness that hadn't seemed to make sense at first, but then had suddenly clicked together into a beautiful image that seemed to appear out of thin air.
Well, he wasn't leaving all of her behind. The frame ended up on top of the JUNK box, and shoved into the last remaining place in the U-Haul. He saw Larisa's ponytail bob at the base of the window, heard her Converse as they climbed to his height.
"Call me when you get there, okay?"
He reached his hand out to pat her forearm, offering her the last shred of a smile he could muster.
"Absolutely."
He still had one stop before he hit the road, and he wanted to make it in and out as quickly as possible.
The sun had yet to rise fully over the Scranton Business Park, but Michael was known to make the occasional early appearance. Still, he'd much rather have the run in with his hyperactive boss than to see Pam again.
He found the office as empty as it had been upon his last visit. The lighting was incredibly eerie, what with the sun peeking in through the blinds but the security lights still glowing. The entire bullpen was an odd orangey color that he'd never been around early enough to appreciate. He filled his lungs fully and let out all the air before making one last trip around.
His fingers danced on the reception desk, cold to the touch but burning in his heart. Just how many jellybeans had he ingested over the past three years? How many times had his eyes tipped over this edge to communicate in a secret code known to only one other? He sat in his chair, glancing in that direction just one more time, savoring the thought of her safely five feet away, a glance or a nod or an air-five available to him on command. Now, it would all be gone.
He let his body absorb the area that edged his desk, where she had pressed herself to him, clinging and clawing and melding their bodies together if only for a brief moment. And in one flick of her eyes, gone.
Finally, he grabbed the first empty paper box he could find and dusted every personal item carelessly inside. The photos, the office supplies, the year old candy bar that would probably find a new home at the bottom of his desk in Stamford. He paused as his fingers wound around that silly paper chain medal. She had been so happy that day. And it had been all thanks to him. It wouldn't hurt him to take it with, right? It wasn't just about her, he could convince himself. It was an office event, a reminder of the good times he'd had at the Scranton branch.
But then, why was he leaving?
Whatever. It was already in the box. And it was 7:30. Michael would be here soon. He wasn't ready for that goodbye.
He glanced around the bullpen one last time, patting the top of reception with his fist twice before pulling his Phillies cap over his eyes and exiting Dunder Mifflin Scranton for the last time.
She'd spent most of the weekend moving about in a robotic haze, performing only essential tasks, and doing so mechanically and with little to no emotion. Roy hadn't really commented, but had given her a few strange looks, especially when she had tried put the peanut butter in the fridge. The only words she truly processed were those on repeat in her head.
I'm in love with you.
I just needed you to know.
You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.
You're really gonna marry him?
On more than one occasion, she found her fingertips pressed to lips that still tingled from where his mouth had been, tracing down her sides to where his fingers had left their imprint on her skin. Her temples rang hot each time his words replayed themselves, I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you.
She had wanted this, longed for him to speak the words, to finally put tangible meaning to their unspoken tension. But when he finally answered her prayers, she'd chickened out, shoved him to the side, wiped away as if he were a bug on her windshield. The pain in his eyes was unlike any emotion she'd ever seen etched into a human face before. The clarity in his charcoal disks was so intense that she'd had to back up a step. The intensity seared into her; if her core temperature hadn't skyrocketed from his words, his eyes would putting them to shame. His stare was icy but soft around the edges, seeming to call out to her, a desperate attempt to make her see.
If my words don't get through to you, maybe the pain in my eyes will?
But she'd brushed that off too.
Didn't he get it?
He was too late.
She'd made her choice.
She was marrying Roy.
Roy, the same man who had just chugged milk straight from the carton, let out a huge belch, and watched a helping of white liquid dribble down his chin into a puddle on the floor before mopping it up with his sock.
But she'd made her choice, damnit!
Pam Beesly wasn't the most decisive person in the world, but lately, she'd felt this charge of resolve taking the wheel of her life, and once Jim had holed himself up, she'd put her foot down. Now, here he went, turning her world on its axis once again. It was Monday morning at four AM, another night awakened from dreams of tousled hair and firm lips, and another night with sweat sticking to her back as she peeled an uncomfortable arm from around her body, that a strange calm overcame her.
They'd had plenty of awkward morning afters, but Monday morning at work always went by just fine. This one would be dramatically different. But oddly, she felt at peace. She would not shudder away when his angular body stalked past her desk. Her eyes wouldn't dart downward whenever he sought her gaze. She wouldn't find herself ducking to the break room whenever he was around, taking her lunch to the car, hiding out in the bathroom. She'd stand tall, letting those words of admission course through her, showing him that she was no longer afraid, no longer timid. He loved her. He was in love with her. He'd let it all out in the open. Suddenly, she was alive.
She was awake.
But Roy was fast asleep in the room right down the hall.
And they were still engaged.
They had a battle ahead, but she was prepared.
Of course, he'd be upset with her. Would he avoid her? Smile as if nothing had happened? Beg at her feet?
They needed to talk.
She needed to explain herself, the fear he'd driven into her heart, the sudden onslaught of it all backing her into a corner.
He would understand.
If he truly loved her, he would understand.
She'd barely embraced Roy all weekend, so he had merely shrugged when she'd turned her cheek to his lips as they parted ways at the doorway to the Scranton Business Park. A fresh coat of glossy pink stained her lips as she sat waiting, alert, on the edge of her less than comfortable desk chair. When nine o'clock rolled around, people were still drifting into the office, and she made no effort to hide the way her eyes peeked around every body that wasn't his. There were no messages to explain his absence, and by nine thirty, she began to worry. It was then that she finally decided to peek over at his desk, having restrained that urge for fear she would plunge back into those memories of Friday night, his hands singing her skin and his lips emphasizing the love that his words had just sung. The bile rose in her throat faster than she could comprehend the bareness of the wood she had not so long ago been pushed up against. Everything that resembled Jim was gone. The mesh cup of pencils, the stack of work he'd leave until he was so bored he couldn't stand it. The photos of him and his brothers, his newborn niece.
The Post-It note drawings she'd given him to cheer him up, each one finding its own special place around his computer monitor, secured with tape, "for extra stickiness," he'd once told her.
The yogurt lid medals from their office Olympiad.
It was all gone.
And suddenly, she couldn't breathe.
She didn't remember knocking over her mug of tea as she all but ran the ten feet from reception to Michael's office. The only words she truly registered were transfer, last minute, Stamford, Connecticut. It hadn't crossed her mind to shield the redness in her cheeks, the tears streaming down her face, the shakiness in her breath as she dashed past her coworkers to the parking lot. By the time she finally caught herself, she was standing in that very spot where his words had angered her, challenged her, turned her on her head. She closed her eyes, touching her fingers to her lips, letting the memory wash over her once more before making the decisive spin on her heels and heading straight to Roy's truck. She'd pushed past Phyllis, not even realizing the poor woman had followed her outside, as the tires burned tracks into the the spot where her feet once stood. She'd barely thrown the car in park when she felt the roughness of the wood against her rapping knuckles. A girl with a brown ponytail and a faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt opened the door, more so as if she were on her way out than actually there to answer it.
"Oh, uh, sorry. You here for Mark?"
She tried to push past Pam, clearly on a mission to wherever she was attempting to go.
"No. I, uhm… Where's Jim?"
The determined lines in the girl's face softened, her expression snapping from frustrated to inquisitive, and finally to understanding.
"You're her, aren't you?"
She didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. She picked at her nails, reminding herself why they seldom donned paint.
Her?
God, this was so much worse than she thought.
"Is...is he...gone?"
Her voice cracked, tears welling, though she was fighting hard to stay strong in front of this stranger whose eyes she found a familiarity in. The girl nodded, tentatively at first, but more firm to end.
"He left about an hour ago. I told him I'd wait for the landlord to come pick up his keys so he could get on the road."
The silence hung over them, and Pam's gaze found the faded welcome mat under her Keds, noticing how the color perked up under the tears that dotted its edges.
"Pam?"
Whoever this girl was, she knew. Pam met her gaze, confirming that knowledge with the disappointment that this girl shared.
"Did you come here to change his mind?"
There was hope in her words, in the way the edges of her eyes crinkled slightly. Just like his.
"I…"
All of that strength that had surged through her body this morning was gone, tapped out. Words weren't forming, were only swirling around the epicenter of I'm in love with you and He's gone.
"He didn't even say goodbye."
Before she could really, truly lose it in front of this girl, the one who shared his quirky lips, she was dashing to Roy's truck and pulling out of that driveway for the last time.
In one last desperate attempt, she tried tried his cell. The beeping on the other end told her that it had been disconnected.
He'd changed numbers.
He was cutting her out of his life.
So soon and so sudden.
From I'm in love with you to You have destroyed me.
He was gone.