Pining for Paris/Jim Halpert

Chapter 19: Beloved

The Monday and Tuesday after Beach Day, things were relatively normal in the office, despite everything that happened. I didn't really talk to Pam or Jim, especially not about what she talked about during her speech. Even though I wasn't talking about it, I couldn't stop thinking about it... did I really push Jim away? Was it really all my fault?

But then again, how could him cheating and lying and then leaving mean that he chose me? Choosing me would've meant that he stayed, that he never kissed her in the first place, that he wouldn't have lied and told me he was over her when he wasn't. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't decide and I couldn't talk to anyone about it either. I felt like my mind was unraveling.

Karen and Jim left around lunchtime to go to New York for his job interview. They smiled, said goodbye, and for a moment Jim and I locked eyes as he was walking away. I thought for a moment before he left, what if he never comes back? I felt a pang of courage, and I wanted to run up to him and tell him how I felt, but I knew that would ruin what little friendship we had left. He was over it, and I could be too. I could move on. I could finally, finally move on.

So, I wrote him a little note and slipped it in his bag. Nothing too crazy or romantic, but I thought it could be a goodbye of sorts, in case he never comes back. In his bag, I left him a poem:

Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

― Raymond Carver

Jim, you have made me feel beloved, and I hope I have made you feel the same. I hope you get everything you want.

-Paris

At this point, I didn't think I could change his mind. Yeah, he chose me all that time ago, but he'd also chosen Karen, he'd chosen Stamford. I knew he wasn't going to run back to me with open arms, so I thought the best course of action I could take was to thank him for what he has given me.

At 5pm, there was still a lot I had to do. I called Nick to tell him that I was going to be in the office for a while, which ended up being very true. I had a million and six clients to call since I had a lot more clients to manage than before, and I had quite a bit of administrative work to get to because of it. So there I was, drinking coffee cup after coffee cup, playing soft music on my computer as I got my work done. The clock was nearing 7pm, and all I could think about was Jim. I missed him, and I felt guilty. I hoped Karen didn't find my note.

I put my head in my hands and lit a cigarette. I knew it was wrong to smoke in the office, but no one was there, and I didn't care. I worked, and worked, and occasionally let myself think of Jim.

Time passed. I don't know how much, but it was dark in the office and my computer screen was burning my eyes. The summer office heat caused some moisture to accumulate at my hairline, and I wiped my face, smoking my cigarette. I looked at my computer clock and suddenly, it was 9pm.

Jesus. I've been here for 12 hours, I thought, dragging the cigarette. I put it out in an ashtray in my desk and stood, stretching. And suddenly, I heard the office door open, and I turned around, thinking it was the cleaning crew. But no, it wasn't... it was Jim. His hair was a little messed up and he looked out of breath, his tie loosened, his eyes shining.

"Paris," he breathed, and my heart began to race. "Paris." The second time he said my name, his voice cracked, and he ran to me, throwing his bag to the ground, put his hands on my waist and pressed his lips to mine.

For a moment, I couldn't believe it, and I thought I had fallen asleep at my desk and started dreaming... But he was back, he was here, he was warm in my arms, I was in his arms, he was kissing me, and I was kissing back. It was everything I had missed; it felt like heaven. It was hot and sticky and then it was soft and gentle, and I felt my eyes prick with tears. I had missed this so much.

He pulled an inch away and looked so deeply in my eyes. His eyes were wet too, and we were both panting.

"I found your note," he whispered. "After my interview. And—Paris, I'm so sorry that I left, I'm so sorry—"

I pulled him into me, pressing our lips together again. I felt his hot tears on my cheeks—or maybe they were my hot tears. I couldn't tell, but it didn't matter.

"I broke up with Karen," he breathed as he pulled away again, stroking my hair. "I'm still in love with you."

"I'm still in love with you too. Jim, I've always been in love with you." My voice cracked, but it didn't matter; all that mattered was that he was here, and I was here, and he loved me, and I loved him. We were both beloved on this earth.