Author's note: Happy Holidays, everybody! Mk, here's the thing. My family is (hopefully, if it's not too stormy) going out of town on the 26th or 27th for like a week and a half. So I might not be able to post for a while. If we stay with my aunt, then I should be able to get a couple chapters up. But if we stay with my grandma, that'll be impossible. She only has dial-up, and it's just not worth it. Hahah. Anyway, I'll try to get at least one more post in before we go, but if I don't, then have an excellent week! I'm so happy it's Christmas, it's not even funny :D
Ryan quickly pulled into a parking space and ran inside the building. He had been fashionably late plenty of times before, but today was ridiculous. His alarm hadn't gone off, his roommate had used all the hot water, his coffee pot wouldn't start, he couldn't find any clean socks, and he hit every freaking red light on the way to the office. Apparently, sometimes God likes to pile it on hard. He wondered what he would do when he walked into Dunder Mifflin. What Dwight would say, what his boss would yell, what she would think. He wondered if she was questioning where he was at that moment. If maybe today, when she started at him, she'd actually be staring at him, instead of at the past. If her eyes would be swimming with unanswered questions like his did every day. He wondered if she'd ask them.
He dashed to the office floor and muttered a "Good morning, Pam," before collapsing into his chair. He realized that this was the first morning, since the beginning, that he hadn't stood around her desk, waiting for her pathetic response. He wondered if she noticed.
"Well, well, well," a voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to find his desk mate Dwight staring back at him. "Look what the cat dragged in. Late, I might add." He had a whole bunch of witty responses, but decided not to use any of them. It would be too much like that one person.
"Whatever, Dwight. Sorry." The strange beet farmer continued to stare at him accusingly, but Ryan ignored it, like so many other things, and waited for his computer to start.
No one else had made a big deal about his tardiness. He was grateful for that. He spent the morning going through Dwight's rejected clients (because obviously, Dwight couldn't sell to businesses that didn't have an attack plan ready for emergencies) trying to make his very first sale. No luck. Soon enough, it was time for lunch. He entered the break room and found her sitting at "their" table in the back, licking the yogurt off of her lid. She had a little drop of yogurt sitting just above her lip. He slid into the seat next to her and prepared for another long, silent meal. About halfway through his turkey sandwich, he decided to do something different, like yesterday. Something that upset the normal routine.
"Hey," he simply said, turning toward her. She glanced back and gave her little fake smile before refocusing her attention on the spoon. Not so fast, Pam. "Hey," he persisted. She looked up at him again, confusion plainly on her face. She raised her hands slightly, as if to ask "What are you doing?" That was the best response he got from her before she turned back to her lunch. He wondered if he should stop, but decided that he had gone this far already.
"Hey," he said again, a little louder this time. She didn't even look in his direction. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," he laughed, poking her in the ribs with each greeting. She still hadn't turned toward him, but he could faintly see a tiny smile playing on her lips. It looked genuine, looked real. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey," he said again, using his elbow to nudge her away from the table.
She turned to look into his eyes then, an authentic Pam smile taking up her entire face. "Hi."
"Hey," he said once more. It had been an excruciating few days, watching her sulk around and listen to her vacant "conversations." But that single "hi" had made it all worth it. She had actually used one of her old voices. It was just the "secretary voice," but it was better than nothing. He wondered if she'd ever use the friendly voice again. The "Jim voice."
He glanced back at her face, and saw the smile still there. It was decreasing in size by the second, but remained on her lips for a long while. He wondered if he should ask another question, try to keep her good mood going, but he couldn't think of anything to say. "Oh, you went back to Mixed Berry today." He thought it was a harmless statement. Certainly not anything he really wanted to comment about, but thought that maybe it was innocent enough that she'd respond. However, she simply sighed as the smile was wiped from her lips and any emotion left her eyes. He wondered if that one person used to comment on her yogurt flavors.
He rubbed her shoulder before standing. He lingered for a moment, trying to figure out if she wanted him to stay, but she gave no indication that his leaving would be a bad idea. He threw his brown paper lunch bag away before leaving the break room and settling into his desk.
Hours went by and Pam still hadn't returned. He wondered if he should go find her, make sure she was okay. But perhaps Kelly had ran into her already and was talking about Brad and Angelina's new adopted son. He wondered if he'd take the chance of running into one of Kelly's never ending conversations just to find Pam. Suddenly, Michael had called him into his office for another opinion on leather pants. He groaned and shut the door behind him before falling into a chair near the window. It was going to be a long afternoon.
"Uh, Michael. It's five o'clock," Ryan interrupted. He had been in and out of Michael's office for the last few hours of his day, trying to lead him away from buying neon skinny jeans. Eventually, Ryan decided that he didn't really care what his boss spent money on, and told him to go ahead with the purchase. But then he was forced to stay and help Michael decide between lime green and electric blue.
"Oh, well look at that. Alright then, you're free to go! Maybe I'll call you tonight about those colors…" Ryan had barely heard that last sentence before he was out of the building. On the drive home, he wondered if Kelly would text about going out for drinks, or if Michael would actually follow through on that promised phone call. He decided to embrace what freedom he had at the moment before it was interrupted.
It was almost seven o'clock, and Ryan had decided to prepare dinner for himself and settle into a long night of watching television. No one had called him for a late drink or middle-of-the-work-week party all night. He was getting slightly worried that he was somehow becoming less popular. I mean, not even Michael had called for goodness sakes. After about half an hour, his leg was bouncing uncontrollably as he impatiently waited for some sign of life to come out of his briefcase. But nothing had. Eventually, he got up to make sure he hadn't left the thing on silent, and quickly realized why he wasn't getting calls. His phone was missing.
After searching every corner of his house, Ryan realized that his cell phone had been carelessly left at work. He glanced at the clock before grabbing his keys. Seven thirty. He wondered if the office would even be open at this time.