Pining for Paris/Jim Halpert

Chapter 15: Stamford

After I saw Jim in the parking lot, I turned around and drove back to Scranton. The weirdest thing was, I didn't cry anymore. I wasn't sad. I just felt empty, like I had been gutted, like I was sugar dissolved and there was nothing of me left.

The drive was faster on the way back. I picked up some food on the way and made it to the Scranton around 3pm, though I didn't really know why I didn't just go home. Eventually, I left my car and entered the building; I sighed heavily, breathing, feeling nothing, and I sat back down at my desk. I looked at a little picture of my mom that I kept on my desk, one of her when she met my dad. Her long hair was blowing in the wind, her face smiling, but up close, she was indistinguishable. I think that's how I felt inside; you could see me from far away, but up close it was just blobs.

A minute or so after I got back, Jan came back to the office, which was unusual of her. She sighed, looking around at nobody doing any work, and Phyllis let her know that Michael told everyone about the branch closing. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing.

"Okay people, there's probably a better way to do this, but I've driven some 400 miles today and I'm completely exhausted, so I'm just gonna say it. Scranton is not closing, Stamford is closing." Stamford? I was just there...

How could Stamford be closing? What the hell happened?

People cheered, and hugged, but I just felt a pit in my stomach. Was Jim coming back, or was he out of a job?

My head felt cluttered. I looked at that picture of my mom, and somehow I knew that she was there with me. Tears welled in my eyes, a weird mixture of happy and sad. Jim, maybe, was coming back!

It doesn't matter though, I told myself. He's with someone else now, and so am I.

Nick! I remembered; I had Nick. I had sweet, gentle Nick, I had Nick who danced and drank champagne with me in the middle of the night, Nick who was a lightweight and knew how to sing, Nick who made me breakfast in the morning. Nick who I could love, if I let him into my heart.

I managed to make it until 5 without leaving, which is better than a lot of people did in this office. I started trying to make up for the work I had lost, trying not to think about the merger. I called some clients, who gave us their business, and I started to feel better about myself. At closing time, I was last in the office with Angela, Oscar, and Toby, who all stayed behind like me. When I got out of the building, I sat in my car and turned on the radio, and I knew where to go.

Nick had a great place. It was a nice baby blue and he had like of a ocean-themed decor. He was thoughtful about his art and furniture, and always had a drink ready for me. At 5:30pm, I knocked on his door, gathering myself, fixing my hair. I didn't really know what I was doing there; all I knew was that I wanted to see him, not to cry, but to see him. To hear his sweet voice say my name; to try to let him in.

The door opened, and Nick was still in his work clothes. He was surprised to see me, raising his eyebrows a little.

"Paris! I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, I should've called. It's just, I had this really weird, horrible day that kind of felt like a dream, like some kind of virtual reality thing? And I just, kind of realized how much I like you," I professed, playing with my fingers. He smiled at me, in that charming way he did.

"Would you like to come in?"

He gave me some wine, and I awkwardly asked for something stronger, and he made a vodka seltzer for me. He asked about my day as I sat on the couch with him, but I couldn't find the words to tell him what happened. I didn't want to tell him — I didn't want my current boyfriend to know that I drove all the way to Connecticut to profess my love to my ex-boyfriend and was stopped by that ex kissing someone else. I didn't want him to know how sad I was, but I think he could tell. Nick had this weird emotional sixth sense, like he always knew how I was feeling even if I didn't know how to express myself.

"I just..." I began breathlessly, "I wanna —"

Without a pause, I put my drink down and slammed my lips against his, kissing him in a way I hadn't ever before. He was surprised at first, but really sunk into it. I straddled him, feeling his bulge on my leg, and a week ago the thought of having sex with Nick kind of repulsed me; I had barely wanted to be intimate with him at all, but here I was, completely ready to forget all of that. He stood up, carrying me, still locking our lips. Somehow he found his way to his bedroom and tossed me onto the bed, smiling as I laughed a little. He climbed on top of me, kissing me hard again, and I almost didn't believe that this sexy person was Nick. He was rarely passionate about anything, but damn he was passionate about kissing me. I unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off his body, which became bathed in the sunlight peeking through the window.

*****

At the end, the sun began to set. After orgasm, Nick collapsed beside me, smiling wide. We were breathless, mainly him, and I tried to remember the last time I'd had sex with no success. He coughed a little, then got up to throw out the condom. I laid in his bed, under the grey covers, looking at the ceiling, catching my breath.

"Want some water?" He called from the bathroom.

"Yeah, sure, thanks," I replied, trying to regain myself. It was weird... the sex wasn't bad. I didn't orgasm or anything, but it wasn't bad. It was hot, but at the end of it, I felt the same as I had before it happened: empty.

I reached over to the bedside table on my side and fumbled with a cigarette and a spare lighter. He didn't smoke, but I left cigarettes here sometimes for moments like this. I lit it, dragging it for a while before watching the smoke dance above my eyes. Nick came back, handing me some water as well as my vodka seltzer. I thanked him, sitting up a little to drink the water and then the alcohol. I kept the cigarette between my fingers as he laid back down beside me.

"How are you?" He whispered. I looked forward, feeling tears dot my eyes. But I forced myself to smile, and looked over at him.

"I'm good." Despite my saying this, he gave me this look that knew I wasn't telling the truth. "I am. That was good for me, it was. I just —" my voice cracked. "I just had a really hard day."

He sighed, flipping on his back. That was the truth, but it wasn't the whole truth, and he knew it. The tears escaped my eyes, and we sat in silence, me crying and drinking and smoking, and I think he realized in that moment that I was never going to get over Jim.