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Week days were boring.
Every morning, Jim and Pam were sitting down at the dinner table in the kitchen to have their usual breakfast: a bowl of cereal, nothing too elaborate.
The times he wasn’t spending looking over at Pam eating her own bowl of cereal were spent staring off into the distance. His eyes would land on one of Pam’s paintings hanging on the kitchen wall.
It was a nice painting, depicting random objects from her office desk: the fruit of boring days.
“Jim,” Getting up from her chair, Pam gathered their empty dirty bowls and threw them in the dishwasher, “We should probably get going. We don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”
And there came another one.
Jim and Pam put on their coats, grabbed their suitcases and left for work, hastily making their way to the car. Today, Jim had stared at Pam’s art for too long.
“Men are so stupid!”
Jim did not seem thrown off by the deprecating comment. He calmly continued to pour more coffee in his cup. He had learnt over the years to accept what Kelly would say aloud whenever she read her ‘People’, although recently, Kelly had thrown away all her celebrity magazines and opted for business ones instead, the ones Ryan always read to make himself look better in front of his older peers; maybe that was the reason why she had picked them up in the first place, but Jim didn’t care enough to think much about the sudden change.
Anyway, no matter what Kelly read, her reactions were always predictable.
“Did something happen for you to say that?” He spontaneously yet cooly asked.
Knowing there was no way of escaping Kelly when she was with her magazines, he just waited for her to tell him what the fuss was about so he could get back to work as soon as possible.
“Some really rich guy bought this huge white painting for two million dollars! That’s so crazy! It doesn’t even have any paint on it! It’s just a huge white board,” She disappointingly shook her head, frowning upon the millionaire’s behavior, as if Kelly didn't make rash decisions every minute or so.
Jim didn’t know much about art. To put it bluntly, he was clueless about it and had no idea how someone could find any interest in buying an unused canvas for two million dollars.
The only artworks he would buy were Pam's. She was so talented and he found a guilty pleasure in hanging them around the house. They were nice to look at and they fit well in their home. He looked at those art pieces with pride, knowing they belonged to Pam, and that was reason enough.
A part of him wanted to show her art to more people so they could appreciate it like he did; maybe they could hang one of Pam’s paintings in their own homes.
When people dropped by their home, Jim liked to show Pam’s paintings to them. It gave her some exposure and her pieces were always well received. He liked seeing Pam flushed with pride when guests showered her with praise. Compliments about her creative abilities always did her some good. She would smile more and seem more confident. To be brief (I have to or else Jim would only keep going), Jim loved to see her art being rightfully appreciated, and he especially loved Pam coming out of her shell more and finally looking at her works in a more positive light.
What if Pam sold some of her art?
Of course, Jim loved to be the only one (other than Michael, who hung one of her pieces in the office) to own some of Pam’s art- Guilty as charged, but selling it would maybe prove itself good for Pam. Furthermore, the couple was short on money. Right, Jim couldn’t get that thought out of his head.
“Pam, have you ever thought about selling some of your paintings?”
The question was so out of the blue, especially for a cleaning-the-table-after-dinner session. She wondered what had happened during her absence that had led him to ask himself this question.
“Hum- I’ve thought about it a bit,” Pam cautiously answered, discreetly eyeing him with a little concern as she gathered the cutlery, “But it looks hard. I wouldn't even know how to start, really.”
Pam wasn’t lying. She really had thought about it, back when she had received her first set of compliments concerning her art, but selling it seemed too much of a chore, so Pam put that thought in the back of her mind. Until Jim mentioned it, she had almost forgotten about it.
“You shouldn’t let that stop you,” he sincerely insisted, “I think you should do it.”
Pam didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t like Jim hadn’t always been supportive of her in everything she did. No, it was the opposite of that, but the burst of support she was receiving out of the blue was overwhelming.
“Jim,” Pam called his name out and for a moment, but then said nothing. She furrowed her brows before earnestly asking, “Why now all of a sudden?”
Jim honestly hadn’t a clue. He had forgotten how he got to this point, but he knew it was something that pestered him for a while. It had somehow resurfaced and he had to tell Pam about it. That was all he knew.
“Pam, I love your paintings and everyday, I count myself a lucky guy- To be able to have them hanging around our home. I’m also a greedy man in that regard. I liked being the only one to be able to look at them as much as I wanted, but then I thought… More people should be able to appreciate them as much as I do. Pam, I just think you should start selling some of your paintings. That’s all you need to know,” he embarrassingly admitted, “Because I kind of forgot how I brought up this whole thing.”
Pam quietly listened to him, and she would’ve been lying if she said that she wasn’t considering what Jim was telling her.
“But then again, it’s not my art, so I shouldn’t be the one making decisions here. You’re the artist, but I just wanted to tell you what I think- Besides, some extra money is always welcome,” he painfully confessed, not without a chuckle.
“Yeah,” she awkwardly joined him in on the laugh, “You’re right, but I’m not even sure the paintings would sell.”
“Well, something I’ve learnt as a salesman,” he wisely began, as if this realization came from years of experience, “Is that you can’t really control a potential client’s head. If they don’t want your painting, then they don’t. And that’s final. It happens and you can’t do much about it,” he admitted, “But that’s fine. It’ll only be a down among ups and downs- And if the whole thing fails, then so be it. At least we tried, but we haven’t yet, so we might as well give it a shot and actually… You know, try.”
Pam looked up at Jim, and the glances they shared were of great comfort for her. He wasn’t showering her with any words of flattery
He hadn’t showered her with any false words of flattery but with honesty and truth. She loved that side of him and oddly enough, his authenticity brought a smile to her face. Pam might as well give it a shot, and if it didn’t work out, then so be it. She had nothing to lose. She’d simply go back to her usual life, when Jim and their couple of guests were the only ones enjoying her paintings.
“Okay… Well, how do you want to do this?”
Jim smiled: he had a couple of ideas in mind.
He thought about opening their garage and set up something there: a table and some chairs where they could display some of Pam’s paintings that took her a while to find. She hadn’t touched her portfolio in what seemed like decades. Finally, Pam painted a banner that she hung up on the top front of the garage with Jim’s help.
When they backed away to have a good look at what they spent their last weekend day on, Jim and Pam were pretty proud of themselves. It was a mediocre setup but they just hoped that it would attract customers.
Mondays were usually quiet. Everyone just got back from their weekend exhausted, when they were supposed to be the opposite: ready to work.
No loud reactions to pranks echoed throughout the office, nor Michael’s dumb antics: just the dull, day-to-day sound of typing on a keyboard and salesmen making tedious calls.
Pam had just gotten off hers, and the unusually quiet and grim expression she bore wasn’t from the call.
Jim, who had been eyeing her for a couple of minutes now, understood what it was all about.
“Did anyone drop by to look at your paintings?” He quietly asked.
Pam, thankful for his concern, flashed him a meek smile.
She huffed, “Not really. A woman came by and we talked about everything except my art and in the end, she thanked me for staying with her and left,” she muttered in disbelief, disappointed in herself.
‘I should’ve charged her for the conversation,’ she bitterly thought.
Her features crisped. Pam sighed. For a moment, she morosely stared off into the distance before helplessly looking at Jim, in search of a kind word, and as per usual, he was able to translate the expression in her eyes quite well.
He rested a comforting and kind hand upon hers, which Pam gladly accepted. The tense traits of her face soothed and a faint smile trespassed her lips.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure someone will buy something eventually,” he softly said, in hopes of raising her spirits, even a little.
Pam hoped he was right, because despite the outcome simply being to ‘go back to their normal’ life, she really wanted it to work out.
And Jim made it sound like it would all work out. The confidence with which he pronounced those words made it difficult not to believe him.
He cupped her hand in his and gave it a couple of light presses, to which Pam smiled. Jim always did it: it was a display of comfort for her. Of course, heartfelt moments never last too long.
“What are you two talking about?”
When the two coworkers turned their heads, they found Dwight, studying them with obvious, indiscreet judgment. The salesman looked down upon any act of affection whatsoever, which was awfully hypocritical of him. He was also fully against any private conversation, which again, was also very hypocritical. Ignoring all that, it gave him two reasons to stare in disgust at the office couple.
Pam, who couldn’t stand the glaring, awkwardly looked away and immediately retreated her hand.
“Alliances are not allowed in the office,” the older salesman reprimanded, heavily accentuating upon every syllable. His tone of voice was much louder than before. Leaning against the back of his chair, he threw a couple of furtive glances across the room, to see if anyone was as offended as he was, but no one really cared. Not even Angela, with her usual not-so-discreet judgmental side eyeing, intervened.
“No alliances are happening here. Not that I know of, at least,” Jim jokingly muttered, sarcastically worried. He glanced at Pam who couldn’t help but laugh a little at his silliness. Jim not taking Dwight seriously would never get old.
“We were just talking about how we’re trying to sell some of Pam’s art in our garage.”
“-But no one bought anything yet,” Pam sourly added.
“That’s because you don’t sell art in a garage. You should set up a stand. It’s closer to the road. More people can see it,” Dwight confidently replied as if years of experience backed up this obvious fact. He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Amateurs.”
One would’ve thought it was sarcastic, but Jim was actually impressed. His coworker’s idea was decent.
“That’s actually not a bad idea.”
At those words, Dwight rolled his eyes. Of course it wasn’t bad, or else he wouldn’t have said it at all.
“Dwight, do you want to help us?” Pam asked out of the blue, which surprised both her coworkers, who shared a glance before looking back at her. Jim’s eyes were wide, and he gaped at her in disbelief: ‘Are you serious?’ was what the expression of his eyes translated to. Dwight, who just raised a brow, surprised himself, was quite intrigued.
Dwight didn’t say anything. The offer was worth taking in consideration, and he knew, as a master salesman, when an offer was good enough to consider. Seemingly pondering the, he twisted and turned in his chair, letting out that awful screeching sound, while Pam and Jim exchanged glances, waiting for something to happen.
“Fine,” he blurted out, as if he just accepted the offer out of pure generosity, “But since I’ll help you set up the stand, and thus upping your chances of exposure, I will demand to be paid accordingly.”
“Pam, I don’t think-”
But it was too late for Jim to have any say in the matter, as his two salesmen were already snatched away from reality, too focused on their upcoming deal. Jim was especially surprised to see Pam so caught up in the soon-to-be pact. She who was never much of a negotiator seemed so fired up all of the sudden over a mere… thing. Jim didn’t really know what to call it.
“How much are we talking about?”
“20% of profit made. I’m being generous here.”
Jim rolled his eyes. Right- So generous. Pam frowned upon Dwight’s ‘generous offer’ which certainly did bring a pleased smile to her husband’s face.
“12%.”
“17%.”
“15%.”
“14%.”
“Deal.”
And that was it. Dwight told Pam that he’d come by their house on Saturday, Pam agreed and the deal was sealed with a handshake. In the back, Jim lightly nodded to himself, impressed and proud of Pam’s negotiating skills.
As if there wasn’t one too many involved in the couple’s project, Michael crashed the salesmen table with a boisterous and theatrical desk drumming, to which the salesmen silently waited for it to end.
“Pammy, Pampam, Pa-Pa-Pamelaaa!” Finger guns and the widest grin from an overexcited Michael introduced a tired Pam who murmured a small ‘hello Michael’ with a little wave.
With a twirl, the hyper manager turned to Jim, “Jimmy, James, Ji…mo…thy?” Jim nodded approvingly. Yes, Jimothy would be his name now, “My favorite couple in the office!” his composure shifted, as he solemnly turned to his oldest salesman, “And Dwight.”
“What’s up Michael?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he hurriedly replied, trying to disinterest them from the real reason, which would’ve probably turned into a subject of mockery: he just wanted to be included, and the salesmen table was, according to him, the coolest table in the office.
“Hum… I just… Came by to see how my salesmen are doing! How are you guys?”
“We just made a deal,” Pam triumphantly declared, to which Michael flashed a smile, quite proud of his newest saleswoman, before his expression shifted, for he couldn’t believe it: he had just been excluded from a deal he didn’t even know existed! How could this have ever happened!
“What deal?” He earnestly asked, a bit disappointed that no one warned him sooner about this mysterious deal.
“Dwight’s gonna help us build a stand. We’re trying to sell Pam’s art, show it to more people.”
“An art stand? That’s so cool!” Michael exclaimed, eyes lighting up with excitement and curiosity, “And for Pam? Even cooler! Can I help?” He spontaneously asked. And it was obvious to them that there was no way they could ever turn him down, for he’d come back and beg, and in the end, they’d still accept- might as well do it now.
Michael had always been an immense fan of Pam’s art, perhaps even bigger (but not by a lot) than Jim.
Pam still remembered when Michael, her boss, was the only one to show up to her art convention a couple of years ago. It was a memory Pam treasured deeply and Michael’s unexpected vulnerability in that moment- the earnesty and kindness behind his warm embrace and praise meant a lot to the new artist and it certainly became a key moment in her somewhat friendship with him. Not to mention, Michael was her first client. He was the first to step up and buy something from her: the picture still hung in the office, for everyone to see. Ever since then, Pam saw Michael in a slightly different light (because that was a beautiful moment amongst thousands of moments when Pam was far too close to killing him). Michael was just a klutzy man who only meant well.
Pam, after thinking it through, looked back at Jim, seeking some kind of guidance. Pam herself was quite reluctant to their manager helping them out, knowing his lack of boundaries and sensibility, but she also felt a bit guilty declining his help, knowing how supportive he’d always been toward her.
“I don’t-” Jim gave her a furtive glance, checking to see if he could say anything. Pam nodded, “It’s really nice of you, but I don’t really know how you could help us. We’ll have the stand and I think that’s kind of all we need.”
“Are you serious?” Michale scoffed, mouth agape in disbelief, “We have to show Pam’s art around! You know what? I have a great idea! Why don’t you set up your art stand in the conference room?”
“Michael, I don’t think…” Pam flushed at the mere thought of it. She didn’t mind showing her coworkers some of her art- No. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that setting it up in a public space felt like shoving it down people’s throats, and what Pam disliked the most was being a burden. She repeatedly shook her head and tried to get away from Michael’s reach, but without any say in the matter, she found herself dragged in her boss’ shenanigans.
“Everyone! Listen up! Pam here,” at Michael’s attention-grabbing shout, everyone from the office looked up from their papers and screens to find the usual far too excited Michael and a nervous Pam, who stood by his side wondering what on Earth he would say next that could further her embarrassment. She looked down at Jim, her eyes begging him to get her out of there but he could only shrug and hope for the best.
“Pam here,” he repeated, when everyone’s eyes were finally set on Pam (her nightmare), “Has something to tell you guys, so you better be nice and listen to her,” he playfully reprimanded, “What do you have to say Pam?”
‘I don’t wanna say anything. I just wanna go,’ but she couldn’t say that.
With a crooked smile, Pam straightened herself, trying to look at least semi-presentable in front of her coworkers. She clumsily began, “... Hum… Jim and I- We’re thinking about selling some of my art.”
An echo of ‘ah's erupted from every corner of the office while furtive, intrigued glances were exchanged between the coworkers.
“That’s great Pam,” Oscar politely said with a kind smile, “Do you have any art you can show us?”
“Uh… Yeah,” Pam rushed over to her desk, seemingly looking for something, until she pulled out a portfolio with a bright grin, “Yeah! I do!”
That portfolio triggered everybody’s curiosity, for as soon as she took out all her drawings and placed them upon her desk, people gathered around her, pushing each other around so they could take a look at her art.
Even Toby came out of his lonely corner of the office to see what Pam was showing everyone. As a Human Resources employee, he would often have to berate Michael for letting redundant activities take place in the office. They would take too much time out of office hours dedicated to work, but since this concerned Pam and her very lovely drawings, Toby said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to turn down his sweet coworker.
The discreet employee silently looked at her paintings, after having bravely fought his way into the circle. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he adored every single one of her drawings and would’ve bought them all if it weren’t for the money he very much lacked.
“Oh,” he lightly chuckled when he found a familiar scenery, “This is the park I take my daughter to. It’s very nice,” he pointed to the drawing in question.
“That’s great Toby,” Pam told him with a polite smile.
“Yeah,” he pulled out his wallet, “How- How much does it cost?”
“Oh! Hum…” She looked over at Jim. He just shrugged, “Jim and I- We haven’t set up a price yet.”
“Does 20 dollars sound okay?”
“Hum… Sure!” She blurted out, amazed at the price; she expected less, “The painting’s yours. I’m sure your daughter will like it,” and she gave Toby the painting in exchange for a twenty dollar bill, to which her face lit up. When she raised the bill high enough for Jim to see and pointed at it with a toothy grin, Jim smiled back and gave her a thumbs up: their first sale!
Afterwards, Michael also bought another painting, telling Pam that he needed more decoration in his house. He paid as much as Toby did, and it soon became the official price for one of her paintings, although Creed did try to make a bargain with Pam but he was forced to pay the actual price.
Michael even invited the workers from the warehouse to the sale, although Darryl was the only one to buy anything. He thought it a nice gesture to support new artists by buying something and besides that, the man thought her to be a nice person who deserved another sale.
On their drive back home, Pam counted the dollar bills she had collected and she was quite surprised at the amount. She excitedly told Jim the number of paintings she had sold and he couldn’t have been happier for her.
“That’s awesome Pam,” and he chuckled to himself, “Maybe it’s a good thing Michael stepped in to help- I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah,” she plopped back into her car seat. Maybe his help wasn’t so bad after all, but before she could delve any further into it, she just had to exclaim it again, “Jim! Can you believe it! This is so cool!”
And she high fived him. At Pam’s sudden burst of excitement and pride, Jim laughed. It was a wonderful, unexpected way to end a usually boring day.
Dwight came by on Saturday like he promised and started working on building the art stand with Jim and Pam’s help.
The couple bought cardboard and a bucket of red paint, as per Dwight’s orders. The older salesman came with the rest of the needed supplies that he already owned and got to work.
With some fixing tape, Dwight put together the different pieces of cardboard and built a respectable stand. Jim added a chair. Then Pam later on came with the bucket of red paint and started to fill in some areas with the smelly paint. She was supposed to paint the whole stand in red but Dwight and Pam had to compromise.
“Why red paint exactly?”
“Red is the color that attracts the most customers,” Dwight obnoxiously explained with a smirk, “It’s the color of power. It gets people's attention and tends to increase the heart rate and create a sense of urgency.”
“You’re just repeating what Google told you, aren’t you?”
Good thing Dwight could change the subject, “Pam! It looks like you ran out of paintings!”
Pam, who had just finished painting the stand and was placing her paintings on the stand, took a step back.
“Oh.”
“You have to go paint a new batch or else you can say bye bye to your dreams,” Dwight gravely warned.
“I guess I should get to it then,” Pam muttered to herself before hurrying inside the house to start working on a new batch of paintings.
Hours passed by, but it didn’t seem like it to Pam, who was hunched over the living room table, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She’d draw something, erase it, draw something again, stop to think, then do it all over again: she was entirely devoted and focused on her paintings. She hadn’t even noticed Jim quietly come in and close the door behind him, as not to bother her on her ‘artistic strike’, as he called it: a moment during which he swore himself to become invisible and not bother her, or else he might break the mood she’d created.
He headed to the kitchen.
Jim was very proud of his wife’s commitment to her artistic projects. She finally had something to work toward, a goal, something Jim didn’t really have. Pam seemed… happier now, somehow and the effects of the sales were starting to get to her. Still, he couldn’t help but be a little worried too. He just hoped it wouldn’t become an obsession, something that would get in the way of life necessities: sleep, food. Well, he promised himself to keep everything in check, you know, as a husband does.
“Hey,” Jim softly said, and he pressed a light kiss on the crown of her head, to which Pam smiled, “Promise I won’t bother you for too long.”
She turned her head to him, opened her mouth, ready to object, only to receive a slice of apple in her mouth. Jim couldn’t resist the temptation to laugh at his wife’s surprise.
“Thanks,” she said, chewing on the snack. Jim set the plate on the table and leaned on one hand to take a better look at what she was painting. Surrounding her were different art supplies Jim vaguely knew the name of: watercolor paints lying around, paintbrushes, a stack of special paper, and a palette.
“How’s the art going?”
Pam sighed, glancing back at her finished piece, “It’s harder than I thought,” she frowned, “Is Dwight still here?”
“He just left.”
“What did you guys do while I was gone?”
“We talked about… his beet farm, agritourism, Mose and how he broke his leg trying to climb a tree- Right, that’s why he left- Well, that’s enough talking about Dwight. Do you need anything? Maybe some coffee?”
“I’m fine,” she flashed him a smile, “But thanks.”
“Okay,” he pointed to the couch, “I’ll be here if you need anything,” but by pure coincidence, as soon as he declared that he’d go lie down, Pam’s phone rang. It was a call from Michael.
Pam glanced at the phone then looked up at Jim, “Can you answer it? My hands are full.”
Jim sighed, answered the call and put it on speaker. Why was he calling Pam at 6pm on a Saturday anyway? Ah, right. Because it was Michael.
“Hi Michael.”
“Pam- Wait, that isn’t Pam. Is Pam there?”
“I’m here!”
“Great! So Pam, I was thinking- the Scranton nursing home is throwing an art convention on Monday. Maybe you could show off some of your work there. I’ve already talked with my nana and they’re happy to give you a spot at the convention.”
‘Of course he’s already talked about it to someone,’ Jim thought.
“So? What do you say? I think you should do it,” the manager confidently said.
Pam, who seemed a bit reluctant, stood there, quiet for a moment, thinking it through. She looked up at Jim for some kind of advice. He leaned in to whisper, “You could maybe give it a try- See how it goes.”
She nodded, “Sure, Michael,” Jim gave her a thumbs up, proud of her initiative. She had to make herself known to the world somehow,
“Can Jim come?”
“Uh… Yeah,” the couple smiled, “No,” nevermind, “Jim’s gonna have to stay at the office and… work.”
“Oh,” she mouthed a quick apology to Jim, to which he shrugged and mouthed back an ‘Oh well’.
“Right. So, you’re gonna have to make a couple more of those drawings- Of cats… and kids, mostly. ‘Cause that’s what old people like.”
Before Pam could reply, Michael hung up, leaving her staring at the phone, mouth agape.
Jim gave her a couple of supportive light taps on her shoulder before cheering her on, “You heard the man- Better get to drawing those cats and kids, Pam.”
After that short and abrupt call, Pam had to call her boss again to get the date and time of the convention, which came faster than the artist thought it would.
As expected, it was filled with elderly men and women, serenely walking around, chatting with their peers and friends, taking their time to look around and try to understand every single artwork on display. They’d ask questions, talk with the artists in question, and have fun. It seemed like a small, genuine and wholesome convention, but Pam felt guilty when she wondered if these elderly men and women were actually here to buy anything or just chat and discover something new: if it were the latter, then she would’ve preferred to go back to her art stand. The artist tried to get rid of that embarrassing thought, as she, with Michael’s help, started hanging her paintings on her wall.
Michael sat down on a borrowed chair, whilst Pam stood up in front of her paintings, patiently waiting for someone to come by. Finally, someone did and Pam tried her best to display at all times the kindest and most welcoming smile she could.
The elderly woman in question said nothing at first. Pam indiscreetly stared at her, nervous and slowly growing impatient. Was she actually going to say anything?
At last, her paintings seemed to have gotten a reaction out of her. She politely smiled and looked back at Pam, “What lovely paintings!” She went back to observing the paintings, “I see you only draw day-to-day objects, places… Fascinating! And comforting!” She exclaimed, and Pam’s chest rose with pride.
“Thank you ma’am.”
“They look just like the ones my granddaughter does,” the elderly woman chuckled, “How adorable!”
“That’s sweet,” Pam’s crooked smile grew wider, “How old is she?”
“Ten. She’s such a sweetheart!”
Either that little girl was a born genius in realism or Pam just drew like a child.
“Since… They remind you of your granddaughter, perhaps you’d look into buying a painting? They’re one sale,” Pam kindly tried to persuade.
“Oh, you’re too kind, dear, but my home is already filled left and right with my granddaughter’s paintings. She gives me one every time she visits,” then she left.
‘I sure do hope she’s the only grandma who has a grandkid who draws like me,’ Pam thought with a sigh.
“Hey, how’s it going Pam?”
Although he promised Pam on their drive to the convention that he’d keep his mouth shut, he just couldn’t take it anymore and had to see what was going on, and from the looks of it- Not so well.
“Alright,” she lied, “One lady came by.”
Michael’s jaw dropped, shocked to see such a terribly low number, “One? That’s it? Pam… Pam, you gotta push yourself out there!” he cried out, clenching his first in the air, “Come on Pam! Let’s get it!”
“Michael! Michael-”
Without much thought put into it, Michael decided to wing it. He got up on his chair and shouted at all the elderly people down below, swinging his arms around.
“Hey everybody! My friend here, Pam, would love to show you her art!” He excessively waved at the art in question, “So, it’d mean a lot to her if you came by and showed her some love and appreciation.”
When Pam thought he was done, he kept on going with the speech.
“- And also! She’d love for you to buy something from her! She kinda needs it! Isn’t that right Pam?” Michael jokingly asked, looking over at Pam with the goofiest grin.
Pam said nothing. Her mouth agape, she stared at Michael in sheer disbelief and horror before burying her face in her hands. She wasn’t one for getting embarrassed easily but she could’ve sworn she could’ve died from it at that very moment. She expected something bad to happen and yet, she was still disappointed in her boss. What was Michael thinking?
Michael’s embarrassing little speech worked, and good thing it did or else Pam would’ve lost it. A couple of visitors came to see her wall, out of pity surely, but they came. That was all that mattered to Pam.
Pam chatted with some of them, answered their questions and listened to them talk in hopes that these conversations would end in a sale- which they didn’t. They only paid her in compliments and despite them being kind and thoughtful, Pam embarrassingly wished to be paid in money too.
But the compliments were slowly starting to erase Michael’s terrible speech until Pam had to excuse herself in front of her potential clients when she heard her boss scaring a poor old man into buying one of her cat paintings by shoving it in his face.
Pam immediately had to rush over and pull Michael to the side.
“Michael, let me handle this,” she tried to remain calm, but she was starting to get on her last nerve.
“What? No! I wanna help!”
“You’re scaring them, Michael!” She sat him down on his chair and looked around, clearly looking for something, “Why don’t you… Stay here and collect the money if someone wants to buy something while I talk to them?”
The scene all felt like a mother trying to talk her son out of misbehavior by distracting them.
Michael, incredibly disappointed, furrowed his brows, crossed his arms and stared at the floor. He spaced out for a minute before spitting out a reluctant ‘fine’. He promised Pam he’d stay quiet and put.
An hour went by and the convention was starting to close, with the elderly little by little leaving the room to go eat their dinner. Pam thought it was time to go. She put her paintings back in her portfolio and told Michael that they could leave.
He surprisingly had kept his promise. It was an astonishment, really, and the saleswoman promised herself to tell Jim about it when she got back home.
Until then, she kept herself occupied by counting the dollar bills Michael handed her at the end of the convention, but something wasn’t adding up. Confused, she recounted the money but it didn’t seem like she was mistaken.
“Hey. Do you know why there’s an extra ten dollar bill in here? It doesn’t add up.”
“Oh, that? My nana gave some more. She really liked your paintings- all of them- and she’s all for supporting new artists. She thinks those are the best she’s seen in a while, actually,” he chuckled, “They really cheered her up!” he furtively glanced at the thin dollar stack before facing the road, “How many paintings did we sell anyway?”
“Hum… Five.”
“Five?” he repeated incredulously, “Can’t believe it!” Michael sighed and for a moment remained quiet, deep in thought before earnestly adding, “You know, I tried to get people to buy more but they just wouldn’t!”
“I saw that. And I wonder why,” Pam sarcastically added, but the manager did not catch the subtlety of her comment.
“I know, right? These old people really are ungrateful,” he stuck out his tongue in disgust, “Bleh. I hope I don’t end up like these guys someday.”
“Well, you can’t force them to buy something either, you know,” the saleswoman tried to reproach, “But it was a nice experience. I think they were very sweet people.”
“Sweet?” Michael’s eyes widened, “Pam, they’re assholes! Five paintings!” he muttered under his breath: he still couldn’t believe it, “They were a hundred in there! Five paintings!”
“Well, I wouldn’t really say-”
“No Pam! It’s time to drop the nice act: they were assholes,” he persisted with far too much vivacity for Pam’s liking. She just awkwardly looked around, waiting for his rant to stop. Sure, some of them had rather dumb reasons for not buying a painting, but then again, forcing something down people’s throats and expecting them to accept it was insensible. Michael shouldn’t call them bad names because of such a normal response to his forceful ways.
“God! I would’ve bought like… a thousand!” Michael randomly blurted out.
“You would?” Pam earnestly asked, delightfully surprised. She smiled at him. She was glad to see that Michael’s support toward her art hadn’t died out and was still as present and passionate as ever.
“Of course Pam,” he scoffed. This level of support seemed completely natural to a man like Michael but to Pam, this absurd exaggeration meant something greater than the average support she would usually receive from others.
“Your art is really cool,” he looked at her and laughed, “What? You thought I bought that painting in the office just to be nice?”
“I mean…” Pam awkwardly chuckled, “Kinda. You were the only one to show up.”
“Well, that too- But also because I think it’s cool and because… You’re cool.”
He stood quiet, staring back at the road, and Pam thought it was the end of their heartfelt conversation.
“Pam, hold the steering wheel for a second,” Michael abruptly asked with a disturbing tranquility. He let go of the steering wheel before digging his hands in his pockets.
“Hold the steering-” For a moment, his coworker thought he was joking but she turned pale when she noticed the lack of hands on the steering wheel, “Michael!”
“Take it! Take it!” Michael cried out, shoving something in Pam’s hands which she clumsily took. He was back in control of the car: everything went back to normal again.
“What the hell Michael! We could’ve died!” Pam cried out, heart pumping out of her chest. She was still awfully pale from the recent shock. She took a couple of deep breaths, tried to calm down. She couldn’t believe what just happened. She glared at Michael, before finally laying her eyes on the singular object in her hands.
“Fifty dollars?” She muttered, embarrassed and… guilty.
“Fifty dollars.”
“I… I can’t take this Michael…”
“I said: take it. We risked our lives for it: take it,” he pleaded, and it felt wrong to turn him down.
Pam smiled and added the fifty dollar bill to her small stack.
Michael and his nana’s kindness and support remedied the little sales made that day. Pam’s grin permanently stayed on during the entire ride. Moments like these always helped redeem her boss’ antics.
Michael kept a smile on his face too, tried taking his mind off of very recent events: the two listened to music on the radio, sang along to them, played car ride games, killed time in some way or another, but as soon as Pam entered her house, the man slammed his head on the dashboard.
“Dammit!”
He really just lost fifty dollars.
The breeze was beginning to grow cooler, the streets were starting to empty out, but Pam was still there, seated at her art stand, waiting for something to happen. Jim had been staring out his window for a couple minutes now, patiently waiting for his wife to come back inside.
Was it excessive for him to be slightly worried? It probably was; Jim simply hoped she’d leave her art stand soon.
But she didn’t. Jim went outside.
“Hey,” Jim softly started, his voice breathy and exhausted. He had been working all day, trying to fill the spot of two salesmen, since Pam was not there, and Dwight was of no help.
“Hey,” Pam flashed him a shy smile before turning her back on him again. She rested her arms on the stand, hunched over it: she was tired and drowsy too. She could barely sit straight. She had just finished two drawings in a row and was now seated at the stand. Whenever her eyelids felt too heavy, she would force them open. It was a tiring process and it showed.
Pam felt a cozy fabric drape her shoulders and back. It was Jim’s bathrobe; it was an old, funny-looking thing, but it kept you warm, Pam couldn’t deny it. She murmured a ‘thank you’ and brought the two ends of the robe around her chest. She sighed. They both sighed.
“Pam, I don’t think anyone’s gonna show up now.”
“Yeah but, imagine if, as soon as I leave, a very rich businessman comes by and asks to meet the artist, but since the artist just went to bed, the rich man leaves- And we just missed the opportunity of earning a million dollars in one night,” Pam stated with the utmost seriousness.
Jim chuckled, “I think Michael and Dwight’s insane scenarios have rubbed off on you.”
Pam yawned and yet she continued to remain frozen into her seat. It did not come to her that she was being a bit stubborn. It would take more than a couple of words to make her go to bed. Jim huffed. He just couldn’t win; besides, he hadn’t the heart to.
“How long are you planning on staying here?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered under her breath, lost in the deeming light of a distant streetlamp.
“Can I stay with you?”
Pam had won him over. He wanted to stay too.
“Yeah,” with the remaining ounce of sensibility a person could have at such a late hour of the night, she smiled at him. Jim was too kind, “That’d be nice.”
Jim sat down. They waited for the business man who never came.
Like a child who hadn’t a clue how they found themself in their bed in the morning when they clearly were somewhere else last night, Pam woke up in her own bed, clueless and still a little drowsy.
She fell asleep last night and Jim carried her back to bed late into the night, barely ten minutes after Jim sat down next to her at the stand. She was exhausted and he knew she wouldn’t last any longer. He knew her too well.
Fluttering open her eyes, Pam yawned. The breeze was warmer, sun rays were filtering through the branches landing on Pam’s sensitive eyes, birds were chirping outside a lovely melody. It all seemed like a perfect, dream-like Sunday morning. The missing puzzle piece to pure bliss was Jim right by her side.
Where was Jim?
Pam turned to her alarm clock: 11:06am. She turned pale, shuffled with the sheets before tossing them to the side. She was supposed to be at work by now! Did Jim really leave without her? Oh, he would definitely get an earful from her when she’d get there… somehow. She didn’t have a car.
As she hurriedly put on last night’s clothes- she hadn’t the time to think of anything else- she abruptly stopped in her tracks. She’d forgotten! Michael had actually granted her a couple of days off so she could get her ‘art business’ (as he called it) on track. Pam plopped on the bed, let out a breathy sigh, closed her eyes…
The stand! She was late for the stand!
Pam rushed outside her bedroom, put on some shoes- she’d tie the shoelaces later- then finally walked out the door.
‘There he is.’
“- These are my wife’s drawings. Usually, she’d be here but,” he scoffed, “I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up.”
She had caught her husband in the middle of an agreeable conversation with a seemingly disinterested teenage boy who had surely stopped by out of boredom, more than anything. The boy took a painting in his hands and looked at it. Jim hovered over him to see which one it was.
“Right. That drawing right there- That’s my favorite one,” Jim took it back and muttered, not without an awkward chuckle, “Don’t know how that got in there.”
“Why is that your favorite one?” The drawing didn’t seem that special, it didn’t particularly stand out: it was just a drawing of a house.
“Well, it was one boring afternoon at the office, and we were killing time, talking about… stuff, and we just started talking about our dream houses. I didn’t have any in particular but my wife, Pam, did. She had this,” he could never keep in a goofy grin whenever he recalled this story, “Vision of the perfect house she wanted since she was like, ten. Later that day, she gave me this drawing. ‘Pictures are worth a thousand words’, right? As… soon as I saw the look she gave that house and the look she gave me- She had stars in her eyes, all smiles and everything,” he chuckled, and for a moment remained quiet. That grin just wouldn’t leave his face and he was probably even blushing a little. He still had the mental picture of Pam giving him that drawing, and how she gave it. It was a short, yet significant moment to him, it really was. Jim smiled, lost in thought. He had forgotten all about the boy. He was just remembering everything out loud. He recalled everything so clearly, as if it were just yesterday…
“It was so, so nice. At that moment, I knew that I would make it my life goal to buy her that house. Every time I look at this drawing,” he picked up the drawing again. It felt as if he was going back in time, “I think of that moment and I think of her. Besides, the drawing’s just… amazing I guess it has a special meaning to me,” Jim coughed a little, snapping back to reality, “Right. I can’t give it to you, but you can look at the rest, though.”
“I didn't want it anyway,” the boy plainly said, highly disinterested in a man’s sappy memory about his wife.
“Great. You can… Uh,” he pushed a random cat drawing towards the teenager, “You could have this one.”
That one didn’t hold that much significance to him. Jim didn’t mind seeing it gone.
“Awesome… But, like… I don’t have any money on me, so… Bye,” and with that clumsy excuse, the boy ran off.
Jim quietly watched him scurry off and sighed. When he turned around and saw Pam, he went up to her with the house painting in his hands still.
“The kid didn’t want it but-”
Pam, who had discreetly listened to everything that happened, spontaneously pulled her husband in a tight embrace as soon as her hands grazed him.
Jim had to take a step back to steady himself because of the hug’s intensity. He clumsily held onto Pam’s waist and even picked her off the ground for a slight second which earned a giggle from Pam.
Despite it being certainly puzzling, this was all such a lovely surprise for Jim, who had been up at the stand for two hours already. Pam’s laugh was contagious; he couldn’t help but laugh along.
He soothingly slid his hands across her back. Melting into his touch, Pam rested her head upon his chest and Jim sat his chin on the top of her head.
“What’s gotten into you Pam?” he teasingly asked, letting out a breathy chuckle. He gladly accepted the hug. He loved Pam’s hugs and they were so nice, but he was also a curious guy. Jim hoped he hadn’t broken the momentum with that question- Sometimes, he could be clumsy with his words.
But if only she knew what was going on in her head at the moment! It all felt very much poetic: her heart was floating, had melted… Something happened to her heart when Jim told that boy about what that painting meant to him. The way he said it and what he said made the poor woman teary-eyed. She had completely forgotten about that time, when she gave her that painting. It seemed so simple and insignificant to her, and she thought it would be the same for Jim. It was so cliche to find out that all along, that painting and the memory attached to it, meant so much to him. God! She felt really stupid.
And as she told herself all this, she couldn’t help but smile, flushed with embarrassment. She daren’t look him in the eye, let alone talk to him.
“What?” And he laughed again.
She laughed too. It was awkward and yet, she wouldn’t exchange this embrace for the world; it was hard to explain it. She pulled back a little from his tight embrace and mustered the courage to look him in the eye, and in that eye, Pam swore she saw a glimpse of mischief and amusement, surely coming from her bashful state.
“I… I just want to say thanks- For everything you’ve done for me,” she simply said before pressing a furtive kiss on Jim’s lips, “Thanks Jim. I mean it,” and she was being completely honest.
Making art on command did not suit Pam, and she now thought how on Earth did she think it would. It was exhausting and got boring quickly, but when she painted for those she loved dearly, for those who fully supported her art and wanted it, painting felt different. Even if money came as a reward, Pam much preferred the latter. It was difficult for her to admit it, knowing that she needed cash, but it was true.
Instead of shoving her art down people’s throats for money, Pam would’ve now rather chosen to paint it for free for her friends and family, people whom she knew would want it, and if with their love and support came money, then she would gladly accept it. Otherwise, the artist was completely content with making art, knowing it would make someone happy, create beautiful memories or remind them of one.
“I’m off to paint!”
“Wait- For the stand? I think we already have enough paintings here,” he commented, looking back at the stand. When he turned his head to the house, Pam was already gone.
Pam was going to paint something for Jim.