Wow, thanks for all the great reviews...I'll keep going with this if you guys like it, I guess...
3
"Hi, beautiful," her mother said when she met her daughter for coffee. They embraced warmly. Coincidentally, it was the same café/restaurant that she had been at with Roy when they separated for good.
"Hi, Mom," Pam replied. "I don't know what to say. Just—wow, thank you so much. I'm so excited."
"I think this will be great for you. You'll come back with a whole new perspective."
"Yeah," said Pam. "Listen, can I ask a favor of you?"
"I'm listening."
"My boss, Michael doesn't want to spare me for three weeks. I need someone to take my place at the reception desk. I was wondering…if you're not doing anything at home while the house is being de-molded, could you, maybe-"
"Be your substitute phone-answerer?"
"Yes?" asked Pam meekly.
"Hm," said Jill, looking adventurous. "Well, I suppose being barred from my own house rules out laundry, house-keeping, and other great activities. I would be bored the rest of the time. I think I could do it, if you train me."
"Oh, Mom!" said Pam, hugging her across the table. "You are the best…of all the moms."
"Thanks, sweetie," said Mrs. Beasley, blushing pleasantly. The waitress delivered their drinks—Pam's Coke and Mrs. Beasley's herbal tea. Mrs. Beasley brought the teacup to her lips to smell it gracefully. "So what's new with Jim?"
"Oh," said Pam, biting her lip and concentrating. "He's great. I mean he's fine. He and Karen are really great together. They're really happy."
A look passed between them. But what about you? I'm miserable.
"Huh. Good for them."
"Yes. Good for them." Pam shrugged and gulped her Coke. "So how's my little niece in Pittsburgh?"
"Oh, she's the cutest little thing…"
"Pammmmmmmmm Beasley, come on down!" Michael said really, really loudly as Pam told him she wanted to see him.
"Thanks, Michael," Pam said, going into his office, looking down and trying not to make eye contact with anyone who was probably looking. The door closed and she turned toward him as he reclined flippantly in his big chair. "I, ah, talked to someone who is really good who can take over for me for three weeks."
"You called the magic Pam Farm? 'Hello, I'd like a dozen Pams, must be quick with the messages!'" He laughed at his own joke.
"Um," Pam said. "I did go to the source…my mother is willing to do it."
Michael leaned forward, as though to tell her something confidential.
"Pam, that's real sweet of your mother to offer," he said quietly. "But you know, I think having a geriatric around here is going to hurt productivity. You've seen our resident senior Phyllis. I'm sure your mom makes great lemonade and bunt cakes but we can't have her forgetting everyone's messages. And what if she falls down and breaks her hip? Then where would we be, Pam?"
"Uh, Michael, you and Phyllis are the same age," said Pam quickly. "And my mom's only six years older than you."
"Well," Michael said shortly. He took another two minutes to muse over a suitable comeback. "Of course, you know, I am certainly not prejudiced."
Pam stared at him.
"Uh huh."
"And I can't just take your word for it. If Angela told me all day long that you could do her job, I wouldn't believe it unless I saw you with these eyes balancing the books. I want the chance to be fair and judiced, not prejudiced."
"So you want to see my mom answer the phone?" asked Pam.
"Yes!" said Michael quickly. "That's exactly what I want."
"I can bring her in next week for a day, and I can train her. Is that okay?" asked Pam.
"Right. It'll be okay as soon as I can see that she can say 'Dunder-Mifflin, this is…uh…Pam's mom'."
"Okay then," she mumbled, then paused, looking tentatively up at him. "I'll just…go do my thing then."
Michael man-giggled.
"That's what she said."
Pam sat at her desk, determined to draw a vase with her ballpoint pen. But somehow the elegant curve became a long nose, with cute lumpy nostrils. Next were puppy eyes and longish, slightly curled hair. There was a half-smirk, showing perfect teeth.
She crumbled it, then unfolded it, and shredded it.
"Come on. Let's go out for lunch," said Karen, striding confidently over to Jim's desk and sitting on his work.
"It would be such a waste for a good brown bag," said Jim, holding up his food. Karen crossed her arms and twitched her lips slightly. "Want to share? I've got two apples."
"Sure," she said, happily accepting, sneaking a look up towards the watching Pam. Pam quickly looked away. "Let's go outside and eat on top of my car. The weather's great today."
"I kind of just wanted to stay inside and look over these expense reports, if that's okay."
"Oh come on," said Karen with a big grin on her face. "You want to stay inside today? No clouds out at all! That doesn't happen too often in Scranton, I don't imagine."
"You're right," he said, putting down his pen and putting on a brave face. She grabbed the coat off of his chair and helped him put it on.
"Awesome." She bit into the apple. "This is really ripe. And juicy."
"Yeah, apples are like that," he laughed and looked away. She laughed too.
"Are you making fun of me? 'Cause I'll kick your ass."
"You'd look just like Angelina Jolie, but with apple dribbling down your chin."
"Angelina Jolie in 'Tombraider' or 'Mr. And Mrs. Smith?'"
"I haven't seen either of them, actually."
"God, you are agoraphobic."
They walked out the door and Pam watched them. Then she decided to take her life into her own hands.
"Hey, Meredith?" asked Pam as she walked into the break room. "Want to go to Poor Richard's for lunch?" Only Stanley and Oscar were sitting with Meredith, gaping in surprise.
"You know, Poor Richard's isn't really a restaurant. With normal food," said Oscar.
"Oh, I know," said Pam confidently. "Meredith?"
"Uh, yeah, coming," she said, quickly throwing what was left of her lunch into the trash can and grabbing her purse.
Meredith and Pam went downstairs and into the parking lot. Karen was beckoning Jim to sit on the roof of the car with her, but Jim only went so far as the hood, and looked uncomfortable there in his work clothes. Pam didn't look at them after she stepped out the door and into her car with Meredith. She wondered if Jim was watching her.
"This is really cool," said Meredith, arranging things in her purse as they drove down the interstate. "I'd really like a sandwich. And some Santori."
"I think I want a martini," said Pam. They pulled into the tavern's parking lot and went in.
They sat at the bar. Then Pam realized she was at a bar on her lunch break. And she'd invited her alcoholic coworker.
I really need a vacation.
"Can I get you ladies something?" asked the bartender as they sat in the dim room. A few men were leaning over drinks at small tables, lost in their own worlds. Pam sympathized.
"Santori. And a little Hawaiian punch."
"And you?"
"I think…I think I want…I'm not sure."
"Pam," said Meredith. Her face was wore that expression of lifelessness that wasn't unfamiliar to Dunder-Mifflin employees. "You gotta say what you want. No hesitations. Just say it."
"Well, what if I can't have what I want?"
"Then you claw until you get it," replied Meredith. "Hey, I said I wanted Hawaiian punch too, man."
"I guess I'll have a martini."
Pam decided to watch Meredith try to get drunk instead of do so herself. Someone needed to drive them back to the office and she didn't need a DUI on top of everything.
Meredith's speech was slurring after Pam last count of her drinks.
"Pam—what do yeh think of Jim an' Karen?"
"What do you mean?"
"Yer in love with Jim, right?"
"Meredith, Jim is my friend," said Pam, embarrassed by the woman's loud words echoing through the quiet bar. This was definitely a mistake.
"That's got to suck—watching them together."
"Come on, let's go." Pam pushed Meredith's drink back toward the bar tender. Meredith scrambled to pay for her drinks as Pam walked toward the exit. "We'll be late back."
Once they were back, no one even noticed that Meredith was wasted.