Jordan Moore ’24
Just Like Jim
We had a great day. We all drive home to your dismembered house. The snow powders lightly around the road in the darkness. Although it’s late, and I probably should be getting home soon, I walk in and see boxes piled up to the ceiling, and snow globes from years past sitting on the windowsill. Shopping bags full of old CDs and tapes spread across the corners of the claustrophobic room. Last year’s plastic Christmas tree is still up, but it’s December again, so I guess it’s okay. Your parents waddle to their rooms, and you sit me down on the 20-year-old torn up and worn down couch and ask me what I want to watch.
“I don’t know…” eggshells metaphorically stab my feet.
“Why don’t you know? Just pick something,” you roll your eyes.
“What’s your favorite show? Let’s watch that,” I say.
Consequently, you turn on the television and the jingle that would be imprinted in my brain forever starts to play. Flashes of Scranton, Pennsylvania show on the screen.
“I LOVE The Office. I think it’s one of the best shows out there. I am just like Jim. I am just a guy surrounded by fucking stupid people. I hate people.” I tense up as you put your arm around me. You fall asleep on my shoulder.
Despite the mess around me, despite the chaos, it’s peaceful, and I love him. He’s just a little moody sometimes. It’s fine, he is so good to me, I tell myself.
I fall asleep on you around the fourth episode.
The Office was a staple show in our relationship. On a good or bad day for us, that show was always on. It started off as something we loved to do, a pastime that took away from the reality of what was going on. I bought you T-shirts with the Dunder Mifflin logo on it, Michael Scott’s famous ‘World’s Best Boss” mug, and more. I would secretly take videos of you laughing at the jokes like you were listening to them for the first time. It would make me happy, seeing you happy. I wished you were always like that. I wished you had a nicer life, and that you were nicer to me, because I was such a great girlfriend for you.
*
The rain mixed with the snow created a dreary January slush on a Thursday afternoon. Sitting in your blue Honda Fit, tears streamed down my face. What is happening right now, he is making me cry over something that could be solved so easily. I can’t even remember what we were fighting about! What’s even worse is how they all wore me down. I took each hit, each curse word, and each scream about how mad and broken you are. Like that time I told you to quiet down a little when talking about your favorite band because you got a little too excited. Yeah, you didn’t take that one too well. But when you had enough, when you chose to stop screaming and you wanted to redeem yourself, we drove to your dump to watch the sitcom. I would sit there as I was being love-bombed, wondering why I was trapping myself. I did love you, I wanted to make you better, I wanted to be your outlet because I knew you had nobody else. Unfortunately, at the time, I didn’t either.
I can unfortunately remember one night as we snuggled up on the couch, plush blankets piled on us as the snow slowly trapped me in your house. The Office had been playing for at least an hour and a half; the episodes slowly started to melt all together, as I was lazily staring at the TV for so long. That was until one specific scene woke me up from my daze. I can remember it was one of the earlier episodes, where Pam was still with her old boyfriend, Roy. They had broken up and then reconciled, and Pam told Roy that she wanted to be honest about everything, and revealed that she had once kissed her guy friend, Jim.
“He told me how he felt, and I guess I had feelings, and we kissed,” she shyly recalls.
“You what? Jim came on to you?” Roy replies furiously.
“Just listen—”
“No I am listening, that’s the problem!” Roy yells.
She tells him to calm down, and he stands up angrily. I tensed in my seat. The scene takes place at a bar, and Roy then takes a glass and throws it at a mirror, shattering it, as he yells at Pam. I started to get anxious, and I wasn’t sure why; But then I looked over as you blankly stared at the TV.
As usual, the scene turns comedic, and you began to laugh. You didn’t even realize that you almost exactly did what Roy did to me, only a month back. I sat there remembering. I thought about how Pam said that her relationship with Roy was over right after he did that. I don’t know how she had enough courage.
“Hello?? Click to the next episode, the remote is in your hand.” You snap me back to reality. I obstinately look up and click.
You were not the person I met eight months back. Then, you were fiery, lovable, and challenged me every day to try new things and meet new people. I loved going out to restaurants and trying new foods, then going home and beating you in Mortal Kombat. Sadly, sometimes fiery and challenging can turn negative after a honeymoon stage. Fiery turned into bitter, and challenging turned into a daily struggle. If you took the time to read this, without smashing your fist into a wall, you might wonder why I even liked you in the first place.
One day, after a fight, you stopped talking to me all together. I started to overthink, wondering what I had done wrong. I regretted that I instigated this fight, rather than submitting and saying whatever would get me out of it. You didn’t say goodnight, like we did every night, even if we fought, which meant something was really wrong. I sat up all night freaking out, calling and texting you multiple sorries through my sniffles and tears, with no response. I felt like I was drowning. Almost poetically, you had cut out everyone in my life until I didn’t have anybody to turn to. I didn’t sleep that night due to overthinking. I watched the sun slowly rise through my wooden shades. You finally texted me around nine in the morning asking if you could come over because you ‘wanted to talk.’ That statement is never good.
*
At the end of every relationship, we tend to recall all of the good times. I started to warp the memories of our relationship. I couldn’t stop thinking about you bringing me to the beach in June. The summer wind mixed with salt water splashed across my face that evening, and you made me walk on the rocky jetty even though I was nervous. As we sat there watching the most beautiful sunset, it suddenly started to rain—it was the type of rain that only comes once a summer, where there’s only a small patch of rain clouds and the rest of the sky is clear, so it creates this magnificent myriad of droplets falling in the sun, without the depressing dreary clouds that come with a storm. We yelled and hollered about how we were getting drenched, but we loved every second of it. Once we walked back to our blanket you surprised me with a rose, where you asked me if you wanted to go out. I hugged you and said of course, and we sat there until it got dark eating pancakes out of Tupperware.
I impulsively make those pancakes before you come over. In a daze, I construct 15 thick, buttery, syrup drenched pancakes. I ignore everything going on and make one of your favorite foods, somehow convincing myself that you will eat these pancakes and magically forget the past 24 hours. You ring the doorbell, I unlock the door and give you a big hug saying ‘I missed you!!’ with a smile on my face. You don’t hug me back. You walk up the stairs as I greet you with a platter of denial on the kitchen counter.
“I made you pancakes! I burnt some, but I tried to make them just how you like them. Thick and with lots of…”
“I’m not hungry…” You motion me over to my living room and you take the remote and turn on Netflix.
“We need to talk. Things aren’t right,” you say as I look towards the carpet. I look up, and you turn on that stupid show. You click to a random episode, and turn the volume off.
The Office was a staple show in our relationship. It’s almost comedic that it had to be on while you were breaking up with me.