June 9th
Once. It had happened once, and only once. But in Pam's mind it had happened a thousand times. In her mind she saw the moment replayed over and over. Recently, it seemed like it was all she ever thought about. It was what she fell asleep to every night. It was what she saw when she sat at her desk and daydreamed. And it was what she was thinking of right then, as she stood in front of his house on June 9th.
It was before the cameras. Before there was a man lurking behind every corner, ready to catch them at their most vulnerable moments, and before they all had to scrutinize their every move. Phyllis was throwing a goodbye party for Catherine. Pam barely knew her but still felt obligated to attend. Roy had ticked her off by refusing to go and, as is the case when she is furious with him, Pam had probably a little too much to drink.
She grabs another beer and spots Jim across the room, standing by himself. She thinks about how odd it is for him to be alone, considering how lively and outgoing he usually is. She crosses to him and stands there sipping her beer.
"Hey there," he says, greeting her warmly. She notices there's something different about his smile, but she can't deicide what.
"Hi," she replies in a small voice. He says nothing more, and she realizes he's not himself tonight. She makes it her mission to figure out why. Pam's not a very nosy person by nature, but something about him has peeked her curiosity. He's slouching, but that's normal for him. His shoulders are hunched, as if trying to make himself as small as possible. His forehead is creased and she knows he thinking hard. She can almost see the thoughts moving across his face. His eyes are bloodshot, and it dawns on her that he too, is drunk. For some reason the thought excites her.
"What's wrong?" she blurts out.
"Hmm? Oh…uh, nothing," he avoids looking at her, his eyes moving all around the room.
"I'm mad at Roy," she states, even though he didn't ask. He looks at her now, concern etched on his face.
"What happened?"
"He's a complete…jackass," she giggles. She thinks its funny to say a swear word, even such a small one, in front of him. She's glad he thinks its funny too. His laughing makes her laugh even harder, and she throws her head back, suddenly realizing just how drunk she is.
He looks at her strangely, his head cocked to the side. She feels self-conscious, and sobers.
"Roy's a complete jackass," he says, and she laughs in surprise before realizing he's not joking. She wants to be mad at him, but instead decides to ignore it.
"So…great party, huh?" she hears him sigh before agreeing that yes, it is lame. They stand in silence for several moments before her curiosity gets the better of her once again.
"Seriously, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. Hey, I'm going outside, someone's smoking and it's making me nauseous," he steps through the sliding door into the backyard, and she hesitates, unsure if he wants company. He glances back at her briefly, and she decides that he does.
Its cool outside, and she wraps her arms around herself for warmth. He notices--of course he does--and takes off his own sweater and hands it to her, leaving him in only a thin, white t-shirt. She pulls it over her head, and inhales. She likes the way it smells like something familiar and she likes how it makes her feel small and breakable.
"Aren't you cold?" she asks, and he shakes his head.
"Well, I'm not going to lie to you, Pam, I'm a little drunk and feeling quite warm, actually," she giggles and for a moment it seems like he's back to being himself. Because he said it first, she admits that she too, is drunk.
"I would think so," he replies, shaking his head with a small smile playing on his lips, "I'm pretty sure you've run the Rhine out of beer."
"Speak for yourself," she retorts, and the smile he gives her tugs at her heart. He's looking at her again, in that way that makes her uncomfortable. She squirms under his gaze, and nervously takes another sip of her beer and glances around.
She notices how dark the yard is, and how the lights from the house cast shadows on his face, making it difficult to see if he's smiling or frowning.
"So don't you like…feel weird being here?" she asks him, trying to make conversation, anything to get rid of the heavy silence between them.
"What do you mean?"
"Like…I mean, how well do we know these people? I mean really?"
"I'm pretty sure that's the point of office parties. You're awkward and uncomfortable around everyone and…you're counting down the seconds until you can leave. So actually, not very different from work work."
"Work work? How drunk are you?"
"On a scale from one to ten? I'd say very."
She smiles at him, and he turns his head away from her.
"Roy's a complete jackass," he says again, this time infuriating her.
"What is wrong with you?" she asks him, turning her body to face him. He shakes his head, but she doesn't stop.
"You have no right…something's different tonight. What's different tonight? I want you to tell me why you like…feel the need to keep insulting my fiancé!"
"Because he's a complete jackass," she presses her lips together and inhales sharply.
"I don't insult the people you date!" she exclaims.
"I don't date jackasses," he retorts.
"I should go inside," he says nothing and she heads to the door. She touches the handle and he speaks,
"You're right. I didn't mean—I was out of line," because his voice is so full of sorrow and regret, she turns back to him.
She detests the silence between them, and tries to think of something to say. She thinks he feels bad about what he said, so she tries to make him feel better.
"You're right though, sometimes Roy can be a complete jackass," he doesn't say anything, and part of her is grateful. "I mean, sometimes. There are good things about him, too," he still says nothing, so she continues, "He can be sweet sometimes. Like this one time—"
"I'm sorry, Pam, but can we not talk about this?" she stares at him, and he coughs awkwardly, "I mean, I want to hear something interesting. Not that that's not, but…okay, I want something interesting. Go."
She laughs at him, "What do you mean?"
"I mean I want to hear something interesting. So tell me," she can't help laughing at him. She decides that when he's not wallowing, he's actually a really funny drunk. Silly. She likes him like this.
"Can it be about me?"
"I would love for it to be about you."
"Okay…let's see…um…oh! I've got it," she pauses and he looks at her encouragingly, "You're going to think I'm so stupid," she says quietly, and he shakes his head.
"Never."
"Okay…well, when I was younger, I used to love Peter Pan,"
"That's not stupid. That's what they call endearing."
"It gets better. I read the book over and over…and I used to hope he would come for me and take me away," she's talking so quiet now that she wonders if he can even hear her, "Its not like I had a bad childhood or anything…I actually had a great one—its just…I even used to leave my window open for him."
He's looking at her in that way again, with his head turned to the side slightly. She holds his gaze for only a moment before looking away. She is suddenly aware of how close he is to her, mere inches, and she wonders if he moved, or if that's the way they had been standing the whole time. He's reaching out to touch her now, which surprises her. But what surprises her even more is that she doesn't pull away. She likes the way his hand feels on her cheek and she likes the way he looks in the dark. She likes how he gave her his sweater without a thought for himself, and she likes even more how he looks in his t-shirt. She could never explain it, but since she was a teenager she had always loved the way a boy's arms looked in a t-shirt. There was something so appealing about their skin and the angles of their bones. Boy's arms weren't like girl's arms, round and soft. They were sharper and raw and just…sexy.
She can't explain what is making her reach out and touch his bicep any more than she could explain why she likes his hand on her cheek. She moves her hand along his arm, touching the warm skin and the soft hair. She knows he is staring at her, but she can't bring herself to look away from his arm. She traces her fingers up and down, slowly, rhythmically. When she finally speaks, it is in a soft whisper.
"Oh god, is it sad that I still leave my window open?"
He's kissing her now, fierce and urgent. She tries to pretend she's shocked, but really she's not. She grips his shirt as he moves his hands from her face to her hair to her neck and back to her face. She can't help the soft moan that escapes from her lips, and she likes how it makes him pull her closer and kiss her harder. When he pulls away she sees in his eyes a raw passion that both frightens and excites her. She's never seen anyone look at her that way and she realizes for the first time she's trembling. He's breathing hard, still inches away from her and holding her face in his hands. His eyes close and he inhales deeply, and she knows he's going to kiss her again. His lips barely touch hers, before she pulls away abruptly.
He's still looking at her, and she silently begs him to look away. She wants to say something, but she can't think when he's looking at her like that. She wonders why Roy never looks at her that way, and she suddenly remembers. Roy.
"Oh Jim," she says. He takes that as a sign to step closer to her, but she shakes her head. He steps back.
She can't think of anything else to say, so she darts towards the door. As she steps inside she is almost certain she hears him whisper her name. But she knows that if she looks at him one more time there will be no going back.
She looked at his house and wondered what she was doing there, standing in his yard when she should be at her rehearsal dinner. She had ducked out shortly after arriving, feigning a sudden case of nausea. Her mother had looked at her with concern, knowing—like mother's do, that there was something else that was bothering her. Roy, on the other hand, had appeared a bit relieved. His bachelor party could start an hour early.
The truth was, she wasn't sure what she was doing there. When she had been standing in the hall of the church, she had felt as though the earth would swallow her up. She had been having trouble breathing, and all she had known was that she had to get out of there. She had gotten into her car and driven around the city for a while, but she had felt the urge to talk to someone—someone who understood her. And without even having to think about it, she had known who that person was. It was Jim.
But now as she stood in front of his door, she felt uneasy. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed for her to be there. She didn't even know him that well. She could probably count on one hand the number of times she had seen him outside of work. Trying to reassure her self that it was fine and that he would understand, she raised her fist to knock.
The door swung open to reveal Jim, looking startled to see her fist in his face.
"What the…what are you doing here?" he asked her, a grin on his face.
"Wow," she replied, "That is the first time that that has ever happened to me. I didn't know that happened in real life," his grin widened and she lowered her hand.
It took her a while to say anything. He didn't press her for details, he just stood there smiling at her, knowing that whatever needed to be said had to come from her.
"Oh, sorry," she said finally, "I didn't mean to bother you or anything," she noticed his keys in his hands. He must have been leaving.
"What? You're not bothering me."
"Were you going somewhere?"
"Yeah—no, no…I was just running to the store. Needed some milk. It can wait, though. What's up?"
"You're probably wondering why I'm here," her words were coming out slowly, and she paused trying to think of what to say that could possibly explain what she was doing there the night before her wedding.
"The thought did cross my mind," he joked, and she smiled sadly. "Did you want to come in or…" his voice trailed off awkwardly, and she shook her head.
"No, no um…actually would you mind if we stayed out here?" He nodded and shut the door behind him. He sat down on the steps, and she stepped down to the ground, standing in front of him.
"Jim."
"Pam?" he asked with a laugh, turning his head to the side. "Are you okay?" he paused before adding, "I could be wrong but…aren't you supposed to be at your rehearsal dinner?"
"No, yeah, I am but…this is going to sound crazy, but…I was there, and I was in this little hall off to the side of the main one, and down at the end there was this huge window. It was really…interesting I guess, because I went down there and—and it was split down the middle, and you opened it by pulling both sides towards you, like a door, you know? And there were two little handles with a latch over them and it was a latch hook…do you know what I mean? Like the hook went over the handle, and I saw it and I realized that it was the window. I mean the window, the one I always imagined, the one I pretended my own window was like—that I kept open for Peter Pan and—god, I am such a fool. This must sound crazy."
He was listening intently to her and shook his head, signaling for her to continue.
"But when I saw the window, I realized that I'm nothing. I've gotten nowhere in my life, and its all just so safe and…and comfortable. And before, that didn't bother me because I liked it like that. I liked always knowing what was going to happen. But I saw that window and it reminded me of all the things I had promised myself and I've gotten none of them. I mean, for crying out loud, I'm a receptionist at a paper company. I just—I needed to get away from it for a little while, because for the first time in my life I felt like I was suffocating."
He was silent through her entire speech, and when she finished he said quietly to her,
"Please don't say that. Please don't say that you're nothing, okay? Pam, you're not nothing. Don't you see? You're so smart, and funny, and caring…you have a fiancé that loves you…and you're only twenty-five years old. You've got your whole life still to accomplish all sorts of things."
"But don't you see…that's just it! I'm halfway! I am halfway to fifty, which basically means my life is already more than a fourth over! I'm too stuck in my ways to change anything now!" she didn't realize she was shouting until she stopped talking and the quietness around her seemed to ring in her ears.
"You're not…you can't look at it that way. You still have so much time. It's never too late…I mean, wait until after the—the honeymoon. You guys will be all settled in, and who knows? Maybe that internship Jan was talking about months ago is still available. Or something similar," he paused, looking at her intently, "It's never too late."
It was so strange how he could make her feel better so effortlessly, it seemed. She looked at him sitting there on the steps, and she felt her stomach flip over, as she thought of that night again. Her face flushed, making her glad that it was dark. She suddenly got the feeling that it was a bad idea for her to be there.
She sat down next to him and sighed. She felt something thick in the air—tension, and she tried to make light of the situation.
"Who knew getting married was so hard?" she laughed, and he held out his hand for her to slap it. She did, but when she touched it, she didn't let go. She let her hand rest on top of his for a moment, and she appreciated how he didn't wrap his fingers around it. He held his hand steady as she traced her fingers along his palm, staring at it intently. She touched his fingertips and noticed they were rough and calloused. She had a sudden memory of being at his party, in his room, and seeing a guitar leaning against the wall. Why had she never asked him about it? She hated to admit it, but in reality she knew very little about Jim.
She yanked her hand away suddenly, and he placed his own in his lap. Neither of them said anything for some time. No matter how hard she tried to get it from her head, all she could think about was that night at Phyllis' party. Because it was there, floating at the front of her mind and refusing to leave her alone, she couldn't help mentioning it.
"Do you remember?" she asked quietly. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue. "Do you remember that time?" He looked at the ground for a moment, and then raised his gaze to meet her face. She had never mentioned it aloud to anyone before, including him. It had only been once. They had both been drunk, and that fact allowed Pam to convince herself that it was okay. If she had been sober, she told herself, she would never have done it.
"Yeah." He replied simply. "Yes." She squinted her eyes at him as she chose her words carefully.
"You were so upset," she said to him, "What was it about?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. I don't even remember." She knew that was a lie, but she decided not to press the matter.
"I pretended I forgot," she said, and she watched as his face contorted. Whether from anger or sadness, she couldn't tell. But when he spoke to her his voice was harsh, and she decided it must be anger.
"What are you doing?" he asked her, jumping up from the steps. She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I mean, what are you doing?"
"Uh…" she began, searching her brain for a response. She wasn't sure exactly what to say, because she wasn't sure exactly what he meant. The silence was deafening, and she was thankful when he finally spoke.
"You're getting married, Pam. Tomorrow," he said it with such finality that she could almost feel her heart breaking in two, though she wasn't sure why. It suddenly hit her how stupid it was for her to be there. He was right. She was getting married tomorrow.
"What are you getting at?" she asked him. She tried her hardest to sound puzzled, but deep down she knew. She knew exactly what he was getting at.
He shook his head angrily. She had never seen him like this. Jim was usually so passive aggressive and laid back. She had never heard him raise his voice before, and the one time she had seen him upset had been when he was telling her to take the internship. But even then, it hadn't been anger. It had been desperation.
"I'm not gonna—" he inhaled sharply and put his hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back in frustration. "What do you want me to say?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence.
She didn't respond. There was part of her that knew what she wanted him to say. It was a small, quiet voice. The one she had been hearing for years yet had never listened to. That part of her wanted him to beg her to reconsider.
"I'm not going to do it," he said, as though reading her mind. She hated how it had always been an unspoken thing between them. Even now, it was something they both knew but for some stupid reason couldn't say aloud. It had always been slightly endearing, but right now, it was downright irritating. Because he was so angry with her, she found herself becoming frustrated as well.
"I'm not asking you to," she snapped back at him. She stood up and saw him grind his teeth in anger. The glare he gave her made his face sharp and all angles. It was not a good look on him.
"Look, this isn't a movie, okay? This isn't a storybook; it's not a fairytale. This is real life. Scranton, Pennsylvania. I'm not going to get down on my knees, the night before your wedding and tell you you're making a mistake. I made myself perfectly clear, all along." The anger flared up inside of her. It started in the pit of her stomach and swelled up to her chest. She felt her heart race, and the blood pounded in her ears.
"Oh did you, Jim?" she said his name with such contempt that for a moment she thought that he would fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness.
"I did," he replied. But there was something different about his voice now. It was softer. Regretful. And she realized he knew he was wrong. But despite his sudden change in demeanor, she found herself still furious.
"Look at you!" she exclaimed. "You never did anything to make yourself clear! Even now, even right now, we're talking about it, and you still have yet to say anything definitive."
"What are you getting at?" he asked her, echoing her words from earlier.
She crossed her arms and regarded him steadily as she said, "Tell me."
"What?"
"I want you to tell me in words. No looks. No hidden meanings, no digging below the surface."
For a moment he looked taken back, but it was only a split second before he composed himself. She had expected him to look away, she wanted him to look away, and so she was surprised when he held her gaze.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, "That I'm in love with you?" he stepped closer to her, his index finger pointed accusingly at her, inches from her face. "Do you want me to say that I'm in love with you, and have been for longer than I can remember? That when you smile at me, I can't breathe, because there's no point to? That I stayed at my crappy job, even when better offers came my way, for the sole purpose of seeing you? That every day I saw you leave with him, a part of me died? Is that what you want me to say?" he was yelling at her now, and she was angry at herself for shrinking back in fear, like a puppy cowering in the corner, afraid of it's furious master. His chest was heaving, and his cheeks were flushed as he added, "Because I am not going to say that."
She lost it then. Something inside her snapped, and she fell to the ground, sobbing. She saw him waver, but only for a moment. He turned to go inside, and she inhaled sharply as his hand touched the doorknob. She only had a moment before he would be gone. But he paused at the door and that was all it took for her to say, pleadingly,
"Jim."
It took seconds for him to cross to her, to get on his knees beside her and take her tear-streaked face in his hands and kiss her. For a moment she let herself pretend that she wasn't sitting on the ground in his yard, the night before her wedding, kissing him when she should be having her rehearsal dinner. For just a moment she let herself forget everything as he kissed her with such desperation that she realized all along there was no need for him to have ever said anything.
But a moment was all she got, because the lights of a passing car moved across the lawn, and he pulled away. It took him a moment to realize that his hands were still on her face and he dropped them quickly, staring at her wordlessly. He looked at her for a moment, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
"You have to get married," he said calmly. She hated how his voice didn't inflect at the end, making it a statement and not a question. Acceptance. She nodded her head, unsure of what else to do.
They stared at each other, and for a moment Pam thought he might kiss her again. But he didn't. He simply nodded his head and said quietly,
"It will—Just…good luck."
She felt the tears threatening to spill over again so she brushed past him, and as she did he grabbed her hand and touched her one last time as she went to her car.