Read my short story below to find out what happened to Michael and Holly 3 months after moving from Scranton to Colorado.
Do you ever wonder what happened to Michael and Holly after they left Scranton and moved to Colorado? I do, so I wrote a story about it. My short story “Michael Scott’s Diary takes place three months after they move to Colorado.
The story is about 7,100 words and will take about 30 minutes to read. I promise you it will be worth it.
Some background:
I worked on a screenplay for the last two years, so I wanted to write something shorter that wouldn’t take me eight months to a year. When you’re a writer, a story idea calls to you, and when it keeps calling, you have to work on it.
That was the case with this short story. I knew it wouldn’t take long, and I needed to write something to just be creative versus trying to get it published. I will try to get this published, but thought I’d post it here on my blog first to see if I got any good feedback, or could generate enough interest to help with my pitch during the query process. I had been taking notes for several weeks and wrote a good outline before actually writing, which is an excellent way to write, in my view. I wrote the actual story in a few short sessions in less than a month.
You may know I’m obsessed with “The Office” and also wrote a spec script called “High School Reunion” about Michael’s. There’s a good subplot about Dwight joining Scrantonicity, too. It placed in a few contests and you should definitely check it out to “see” a solid episode of the Office you’ve never seen.
If you enjoy the story, please leave constructive/nice comments and feedback (trolly or negative comments will be deleted). I got laid off on Monday, so you can also support my music, writing, mortgage and college funds with a donation:
Buy my music on Bandcamp. You can make a donation on top of any single or album purchase. My music is also available under all major streaming platforms, but artists make the most money from Bandcamp, and we can see when purchases are made, and by whom in the form of an email address.
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Make a donation to my PayPal account in any amount. The higher, the better.
Still can’t get enough of ‘The Office’ after this short story?
Read my ‘Top 12 episodes of ‘The Office’ post.
Read my spec “Office” teleplay, “High School Reunion” (Michael goes to his with Pam, and Dwight joins Scrantonicity)
Don’t watch ‘The Office’ over and over, obsessing over every detail? Watch this video to catch up on Michael and Holly’s story, before my short story starts.
And now without further ado, I give you “Michael Scott’s Diary”
[NEW ENTRY]
Last night I had a dream I killed Holly’s mom. I know that’s terrible. I could never murder anyone. Except maybe Toby.
I’m still mad at her for replacing my George Foreman grill. She had no right to do that! Replaced it with a stupid griddle. Says it cooks more even and better temperature control. The woman is obsessed with food and stocking our kitchen with what SHE wants in there. She is crazy!
“You won’t burn your foot on the griddle,” she said. How does she know? Also how did she know I did that back in Scranton? Did Holly tell her? I don’t know who else would have. I bet they had a good laugh. Also I could fall and trip on the griddle, JOAN. At least the Foreman grill was safe with that lid.
This all started because of Christmas dinner. I know this sounds terrible but ever since we moved here I have been dreading the holidays. Ruth is a good cook and all but our kitchen is not her own personal restaurant. She’s been prepping for this dinner since we moved here. We have enough stuff in this kitchen to run a small restaurant. WTF??? I have no room for snacks, my mugs, nothing! Every nook and cranny is filled with kitchen gear. For example, she has three different varieties of meat thermometers we will never use. Don’t get me started on the pots and pans! She threw Holly’s out because they were old and would cause cancer (!!!!)
Christmas dinner is five days away. So I have the joy of her visiting pretty much every day until then, filling our fridge with groceries. I can’t find a thing in there—it’s packed with a ton of food we will never eat in a million years. In Scranton, I shopped once a week to keep food fresh. There was space to move my hands and see what I wanted, like my pickles and salsa. Now I can’t find a damn thing. Who buys in bulk like this?
OK, back from taking a little break from venting. Holly was right, journaling is good for venting and I’ve calmed down a little. The therapist has been helping, too. Although last time I think I caught her falling asleep. “How does that make you feel?” she asked me out of nowhere, sitting up and blinking, like she just woke from a dream. I already told her I was upset no one from Scranton ever called to check in.
Been loving the writing life but sometimes I do miss the office. I should get back to work—this book isn’t going to finish itself haha. More later!
[NEW ENTRY]
We’ve been stuck in this house now for almost a week. I thought winters were bad in Scranton but the snow here is relentless. The more people shovel and plow the more it seems to snow. Kids can’t even make snowmen because if they did they would simply sink, never to be seen again.
This has not stopped Joan from coming over every single day to prep for her big Christmas meal, which is tonight. She literally paid some local kid to snowplow her driveway so she could go back and forth from our house to her house for more food, more kitchen gear. Every time she’s here, she cranks the heat to 85 degrees. Literally makes me sweat.
She says the drive is “good for her” but the question is... is it good for anyone else here in Boulder??? Her eyesight is terrible. One of these days she’s going to skid on the snow and kill someone—maybe run over some kid trying to make a snow angel, already sinking.
I’m trying to WRITE in PEACE AND QUIET and I can hear her banging around in the kitchen right now. Sounds like a gorilla in the back of a restaurant. How does someone that old have so much energy? I don’t think the woman sleeps. When she does, she’s probably dreaming up more ways to overstuff our kitchen with more smoked meats and canned goods.
She’s calling me right now. Wants help getting something down from the cupboard. Arrrrgh!!!!
I have to go. More later.
Michael and Holly putting on a poorly received sketch at the company picnic. Things would get better, but it would take some time.
[NEW ENTRY]
As I predicted, Christmas dinner was an absolute disaster. Holly is not talking to me. Well she is but she is withholding affection and acting very distant. Probably our biggest fight ever. She said I hate her mother and I said that’s not true—she just drives me crazy.
I probably shouldn’t have said some of the things I said, but her mom also needs to know I’m not going to be pushed around.
They’d been preparing for this meal all day, banging around in the kitchen... All I wanted was some peace and quiet after another hard day’s work on this stupid book. OK it’s not stupid, it’s my dream. I know it will be huge. That’s what she said. But seriously, this book is my retirement plan. I just need to finish the damn thing.
Anyway things were going fine at first. I was watching SKYFALL (awesome although I didn’t get to finish it yet because of DINNER). Holly and Joan were listening to Christmas carols in the kitchen. Joan kept bringing me beer and snacks. I’ve never seen so many varieties of cheese and crackers. I said if I keep eating, I’m not going to have enough room to finish the seven course meal they were preparing. She said it’s Christmas and I should eat.
So after hours of this, the three of us finally sat down together in the dining room. Candles, Christmas carols still going, the whole house is decorated. It was a beautiful scene. I was just in a bad mood and so full of cheese, crackers and beer, I felt like I was going to throw up. I missed my mom. Normally on Christmas I’m busy planning the office party or sometimes volunteering at the food bank. Not this year. Just stuck inside, staring at a glazed turkey and giant bowl of mashed potatoes, enough for 20 people.
I said the turkey is delicious but it sure looks like a lot of food for three people. I asked Holly what we were going to do with all the leftovers and that’s when all hell broke loose.
“Michael we’ve been working on this meal all day,” Joan said in her quiet little voice when she was mad. She jabbed at her turkey with her fork and knife. “The least you can do is say thank you.”
Thank you?? Was she kidding. Thank her for what? Invading our kitchen for weeks? Constantly up in my beeswax, asking me to help her with this, help her with that, can you help me get the cranberry sauce down from the pantry? Bring in the endless stream of groceries? It never stops with this woman. Like the snow.
“Let’s just all try to get along, OK?” Holly said.
“We would get along fine if I still had my grille.” I said. I thought that was fair to say but I realize in hindsight I shouldn’t have said it. We haven’t done it in over a week, which for me is way too long.
Joan said to me, “Michael, are you still talking about that grille?” She brought up burning my foot on it AGAIN and how it much better a griddle is for cooking. “You should be grateful.”
I said I’m not grateful and I don’t appreciate how you just threw my grille in the trash without even asking me. She said well your stuff takes up all the space in the house, so where else was I supposed to put it? I said it’s not your business where my things go or how much stuff I have, because it’s not your house!
“Why don’t we all calm down and try the gravy?” Holly suggested.
Joan started to cry. “You’re right, Michael. Maybe this meal was a mistake. I just wanted to do something special for both of you.”
Of course I felt bad. Then the power went out. Not a big deal since we had 100 Christmas candles set around the house, but now I couldn’t finish SKYFALL.
“You can’t drive home in this tonight, mom,” Holly said. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t because the turtleneck Joan bought me and suggested I wear tonight was suffocating me, along with the 85 degree heat!!!
“I can drive her home,” I said.
Holly glared at me. “She’ll stay in the guest room.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Joan said, sniffling. It was too dark to tell if she was faking it.
“It’s not a bother, mom,” Holly said, glaring at me again.
“You and your brother used to love making forts in that room,” Joan said to Holly. “Remember that?”
“We made a lot of special memories here,” Holly said, nodding in agreement and taking a big sip of wine.
“Now it’s yours to make even more,” Joan said. Then she started crying again. Now it was my turn to chug some wine. I didn’t even like wine. It always reminded me of Meredith. “You are the reason I drink” my ass
“Gravy’s delicious,” I offered but no one said anything. I wondered how I was going to lose the 15 pounds I’ve gained since moving here. All Joan did was feed us. I was having trouble fitting into all my old clothes. Even my sweats. I didn’t wear suits anymore. I didn’t even want to wear them. All that time Dwight would spend at the dry cleaners. I wonder how he’s doing...
“I’m sorry...” Joan said, sniffling again. “This is our first Christmas without him.”
“Ohhh mom,” Holly said, going over to comfort her. Now the two of them were crying.
“He left us too soon,” Joan said, really crying now. That just made Holly cry more. Seeing Holly cry always made me cry. The last time I’d seen her cry was when I drove away from Nashua.
I stopped pretending to eat and stood up to give her a hug. I patted Joan on the shoulder. Werner was a nice guy and all but by the way they’d talk about him, you’d think he was some kind of a saint. He drank too much and had an affair for a long time. Or affairs. Who knows how many. He was always on the road. Joan stuck it out because Holly was just a baby.
“Maybe tomorrow you can run into town and get some Tupperware,” Joan said to me. “For the leftovers.”
“We’ll have to see about the roads,” I said. “We might be stuck here all day. Plus I need to work.”
“Work on what?” Joan said.
I looked at Holly but couldn’t really see her face when she sat back down. She just picked at her turkey, not looking at me.
“I’m writing a book, Joan,” I said. But she already knew that.
[NEW ENTRY]
I spent most of the next day in my office, hiding from Joan, who kept busy cleaning up the kitchen and separating the leftovers into what she’d take home and what she’d leave for us. At one point I went to the bathroom and told her she could take it all since I was on a diet.
“I need to lose 10 pounds myself,” she said. Try 20, I thought. OK, that was mean. But it was my first thought. Sue me.
At one point when I was writing (or at least staring at the blank page), she bought me some tea. She tried to make small talk about how the book was going and I said my goal was to have a first draft finished in three months. Then I’d pay an editor from Pakistan on Upwork to make it better. After it became a best-seller, that would give me a platform to start my online consulting business. She said something like “It’s good to have a plan” and went back to fussing in the kitchen.
They finally cleared the roads last night, so Holly is back in her office. She says working outside the house helps her focus and gives her clients privacy. She loved Dunder-Mifflin as much as I did but seems even happier in her private practice, helping people. That’s what she was best at in HR and why I fell so hard for her. Unlike Toby who didn’t help anyone.
I’m looking out my window again at the back yard. White everywhere. It’s blinding, like the blank page and blinking cursor, always staring back at me, taunting me. What the hell was I thinking, trying to write a book? I don’t even read, except screenplays.
Maybe Wallace was right. What did he say about Colorado? Giant REI store, no one reads, everyone is racist...
I still think I made the right decision. I moved here to be with Holly. That’s all that matters.
Also I haven’t come across any racists here. No black people, for sure, but also no racists. Black people definitely keep things real. I miss Darryl and Stanley. My two big black BFFs. Grateful to Darryl for teaching me ebonics. I basically know a second language thanks to him.
I should get back to work.
Holly and Michael just being each others’ dorky Office spirit animal.
[NEW ENTRY]
Christmas dinner disaster is over but Joan still pops in unannounced on a regular basis. It went from prepping for Christmas dinner to prepping for New Year’s Eve. Been avoiding her, just a friendly hello here and there and then I say I need to get back to work.
“How’s the book going?” she asked me in the kitchen. I just wanted some coffee, not a whole conversation. But I am trying to be nice. I told her I got a new chapter finished this morning, which is half-true. I just got the title and a few sentences...
“CHAPTER 2 - PEOPLE NEVER GO OUT OF BUSINESS”
It’s going to be about how getting to know your people, treating them like family, and making them truly feel valued and appreciated is the most important thing in business. If there’s one thing I did right, it’s that. Sure I may have crossed some lines. Dating Pam’s mom was a mistake. Jan was an even bigger mistake. Banging your branch HR rep? I guess with Holly, third time’s the charm.
Joan offered to make me lunch but I said I was going to surprise Holly at her office (which was in the same little office complex as my therapist but Joan didn’t need to know that). I drove 3 miles an hour through a blizzard and when I finally got there, she was with a patient. I told her the high school kid canceled today “for safety reasons” and I had to shovel the driveway myself.
“Excuse me, we’re in a session,” the patient said in a snotty tone. Some frumpy school teacher Holly didn’t like—said she suffered from Trump Derangement Syndrome and created her own problems with her political rants on Facebook. I said I’m Holly’s husband and the woman said I don’t care, please get out. Holly told me to wait in my car, so I did that for twenty minutes in the parking lot, just staring at the snow piling up on the windshield like a moron.
Finally the frizzy-haired Karen left the office, slipping on the ice in the parking lot. When I got inside, Holly seemed almost surprised I was still here and said This is why I have an office away from home, Michael—I can’t have these kinds of interruptions with my practice. I told her she never minded when I interrupted her at the office in Scranton and she said we’re not in Scranton anymore. Well maybe that’s the problem! I said, probably a little too loudly.
She asked me what was going on and I started to cry like a big fat weenie. I told her “You’ve just been kind of distant and sort of mean to me and I moved out here to be with you.”
“I don’t think you’ve been very nice to mom since you moved out here,” she said. “There’s a lot of tension there, Michael. She’s my mom.”
“Yeah there’s tension,” I said. “She replaced my Foreman Grille!” Holly told me to calm down so I did, but when I’m angry and I have to be quiet, it makes me talk slow. She said she had another patient in 15 minutes, can we please speed this up and that made me angry again.
“Plus she’s got photos of your dad everywhere. It’s our house now but it’s like a shrine. It’s weird!”
“Hey, that’s my dad!” Holly said sharply. “Now you have a problem with him?”
Now you’re raising your voice, I said. She said I’m sorry and told me to sit down in her patient’s chair. I said no thanks, I’ll stand and she said Michael please, I am so tired and I have a patient coming soon (I didn’t make a joke about that). So we just sat there, staring at each other. She looked mad but finally broke the ice.
“I know it’s hard for my mom to let go of that house,” she said.
“Then she shouldn’t have given it to us,” I said. “I don’t want a ‘gift’ like that hanging over my head for the rest of our lives. We turn that house into an Airbnb for skiers and move into our own house.”
“It’s our house now,” she said. “She was just trying to help us start our new life.”
“I am grateful but I also need space,” I said. “She’s just there too much.
Holly said she understood. She admitted her mom can be difficult and stubborn and still clings to the house. “It was her special place with my dad. I think she’s just having trouble letting it go.”
I started to cry again. Ugh, what the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t help it. It just felt like everything was crashing in. Her being distant. The stupid fight at Christmas dinner. All the damn snow. I felt like a little kid doing a snow angel, just sinking, sinking into blinding white...
She came over and sat next to me on the patient’s chair and put her arm around me but it just made me cry harder, like a big baby. I was embarrassed but also just really sad.
“Hey. Heeeyyyyy. Come here...” she said in a soft, sweet voice I missed because she’s been mad at me. “You’re going through a lot of changes. It’s all a big adjustment.”
She asked me how the book is going. I said it’s going ok but it’s just really hard. That’s what she said. We both laughed a little. I said as soon as this book is done and becomes a big hit, I’ll start my consulting company. I just needed more time to work on the book since that’ll be the flagship of my brand and platform. I asked her if she thought her mom thought I was wasting my time.
“Does it matter?” Holly said. “I believe in you.” Someone was knocking at the door. Holly’s next patient. She said she’d be with him in a few minutes.
I couldn’t breathe through my nose because of all the snot building up. I wiped my nose on her shoulder, sniffling and sat up.
“It just feels like you and her against me sometimes,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “And whenever we fight, or disagree, you don’t have my back. You have each other’s back. Like when she threw out my grille, you didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t know it meant that much to you...”
“My mom’s in Scranton. She’s getting old. And I miss...” I started crying again. Ugh! What a weenie.
She said she understood and rocked me back and forth a little, which made me feel a little better. “We both have family we miss.”
“No one in Scranton’s returning my calls,” I blubbered.
“Oh, honey. People are busy.”
“Busy my ass,” I said.
“Who did you try calling?” she said.
“Ryan! Ever since I loaned him money his phone doesn’t work.” She said Ryan’s never been a good friend and I shouldn’t have loaned him money. Of course she’s right. I’m sure he just used it to move back to Ft. Lauderdale to get away from Kelly again.
What about Dwight she asked. I said he returns my calls but talks too long. It used to be about beets and Battlestar Galactica but now it’s all about Phillip. He never asks how I’m doing. And I don’t think Angela likes me calling at all.
She asked if I tried Jim or Pam. I said they never pick up. She said try them again, leave a voicemail and tell them you really miss them.
I calmed down a little. She always knew just what to say.
Her next patient knocked on the door again. Holly suggested I start going to yoga with her in the morning, before my writing, “to give me some structure and help reduce stress.” She said it could even help with my writing.
I’d never done yoga before meeting Holly. I tried it one time with her in Scranton before we moved here. Hot yoga. I hated it. Spending all that time on the floor. So hot... it just heated up the smell of feet and armpits and sweaty bodies. I felt like I was gonna throw up and near the end I almost did because I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right before, which was stupid. The instructor or guru or whatever you call them talked for like 20 minutes in the beginning, then again at the end, babbling about our Intention. How was I supposed to meditate when they were talking the whole time? I was missing improv class for this? Up, down, up down dog for another forty minutes. I squeaked out a fart and started snickering. Then Holly started snickering and we were like two kids with the giggles in class. We couldn’t stop. The instructor with a man-bun stood over us and told us it happens and let’s focus on our intention.
My intention at the time was to do it with Holly, so sure I’d try yoga class. As I lay there at the end, feeling like I was going to puke and die, he was still talking about intention. So I gave into that. I realized my intention was to spend the rest of my life with Holly, so that’s why I was in that class. And that’s why I moved here in the first place.
Anyway I told Holly I’d have to think about morning yoga. I really needed to focus on my book.
[NEW ENTRY]
I always thought this scene was a very simple, elegant, and yes romantic concept. Most importantly, it was a beautiful moment and satisfying proposal after their long and bumpy courtship.
“Maybe you can sleep with her.”
“Ha ha, Jim. Not funny.” But of course it kind of was, since I slept with Pam’s mom. I don’t think she ever forgave me for that. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t returning my calls. Jim was still snickering, I could tell. “Come on, man,” I said sternly, “I need your help here. What do you do to keep the peace with Helene?”
“There’s not much to it, really. She flies out here to help with the kids here and there. She’s an easy houseguest. She might move nearby, she likes the weather. TBD.”
“So you get along?”
“Yeah, we’ve always gotten along. I mean, she’s Pam’s mom, right? So she must’ve done something right.”
I thought about that for a minute. Made sense. Joan did have good qualities. Aside from fussing with our house too much. She did like to laugh. Holly was always cracking her up. And she loved my comedy stylings and impressions (who doesn’t???) So at least we were on the same wavelength there...
“Pam, it’s Michael!” Jim said. “You want to say hi?”
I heard some mumbling then Pam got on the phone.
“Hi Michael! So, have you turned into a ski bum yet?”
I laughed and said no, I don’t even ski. I guess I should learn, considering there’s snow here 5-6 months out of the year. I asked her how she was doing and she said she got a new job at the university as an admin, but at least it was at the College of Arts and Sciences, so she really liked it. I asked if she liked it as much as Dunder-Mifflin and she said maybe, she wasn’t sure yet. “No one can compare to you as a boss, of course,” she said, and that made me blush. Man, I really missed these guys!!! They were the best. Ugh, was I going to cry again? I feel like I’m on my period a lot. Maybe it’s the weather?
“I don’t know, Pam,” I said. “You guys sound so happy. I’m happy for you. Maybe I made a mistake.”
“You didn’t,” she said.
“How do you know?” I said. “I can’t even get along with Holly’s mom.”
“Because of the Foreman Grille?”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Jim played me your voicemail.”
I was so mad. I told him not to do that! That voicemail was probably five minutes long and I left it right after the Christmas dinner blowup.
“The holidays are a stressful time for everyone, Michael,” she said. “You know that. Money, family, Christmas parties... everyone’s thinking about where they are in life.”
“More people commit suicide over the holidays than any other days,” I said.
“That’s actually a popular misconception,” Pam said. “It’s actually April through June. But I doubt you’re thinking of killing yourself over a Foreman Grille, right?”
April through June? That didn’t sound right. I’d have to Google this...
“Right, Michael?” Pam said.
“Of course not,” I said. “It’s just a grille.”
“What else are you fighting about?”
“Oh, she’s just always over there, fussing with things. Stocking our kitchen with food and all this... kitchen crap. Making little comments about where I store things, like my gym equipment and hand chairs... I guess I should be grateful she gave us the house, but it’s not her house anymore, ya know?”
“Didn’t it used to be like their getaway house or something?”
“Yeah,” I said. They’d use it for skiing weekends and all that, I said. To get away from the other houses they owned in Joan’s real estate days. I told her about how Werner’s pictures were still everywhere.
“These sound like small problems,” Pam said. “I’m not sure they’re really problems at all. I think if you just make an effort to get along with her... maybe just set some boundaries... all of this is going to blow over. Maybe even before the new year.”
I sighed. She was right. Maybe I just needed to be more flexible and try harder to be nice.
Pam was so wise. I could always talk to her. She always had my back and knew just what to say, even when I didn’t know what to say to myself.
“Do you think you guys will visit sometime?” I asked her.
She said they wanted to, but with the kids and Jim’s travel for Athleap, and the holidays, maybe in the spring. “When most people commit suicide,” she said, and I laughed.
Man I really missed them and told her that. “I know,” she said.
When I came out for lunch, Joan wasn’t there but I found a new Moleskin notebook with a bow on it, and a nice silver Cross pen on the kitchen counter. There was a note on it:
Every writer needs a good notebook and a nice pen. If you want to return them, I still have the receipt. Love, Mom.
[NEW ENTRY]
The invasion continues. Joan is now here cleaning up Christmas decorations and preparing for our New Year’s Eve meal. It’s still snowing out, so we have no big plans, just dinner here again as a family. Holly asked Joan if she wanted to host at her house this time (to avoid another blowup) but Joan said nonsense, she needed to get out of her house anyway.
I was having writer's block again, so I went into the kitchen to find Joan peeling carrots for beef stew she was making for the big dinner. I thanked her for the notebook and she said you’re welcome. She asked if I liked it and I said yes, which was true. It had a soft leather cover and the paper smelled nice. A lot better than this cheap notebook I’d been writing in that I got at the drugstore for $1.50. Today I’m writing in the Moleskin with the nice silver Cross pen she got me. A man could get used to this.
I asked her if I could help peel carrots and she said sure. It was quiet for a little while and she was playing classical music on Alexa. Classical music puts me to sleep but I kept my mouth shut and just kept peeling.
“You want to peel away from you, Michael,” she said. I stopped what I was doing and she grabbed my hands and showed me how to peel away from yourself, which made sense. She showed me a scar on her index finger she got from peeling too fast to “scare me straight.”
I asked her if she wanted to take a break and go outside. She said not really, it’s freezing out and I have a lot of work to do. I said please and finally she agreed.
We bundled up and sat on the front porch swing, staring out at the endless snow. The kid from the neighborhood was here plowing the driveway, which needed to be done almost every morning. To clear Joan’s passage to our house. I don’t know how the hell he got here every morning, he just appeared.
“I’m sorry we got in a big fight at Christmas dinner,” I said.
She asked if we could go inside, she was freezing. I said just a minute, I just need to get some things off my chest. About ground rules and boundaries (Holly told me how to explain these concepts but I think it was coming out wrong and she seemed to get impatient and asked to go inside again, she was on a schedule with the beef stew).
“It’s fine, Michael,” she said. “I understand you were frustrated. I shouldn’t have gotten rid of your grill and commented about your things. It’s none of my business.” She said men need to be men and feel like their home is their castle, which is true.
I told her I actually needed to do some spring cleaning, anyway. Like the St. Pauli girl sign in a box and hand chairs sitting in our garage, the same way they sat there in my old condo’s garage. Jan hated that stuff. Holly didn’t give me a hard time about anything. But that stuff carried negative Jan energy from the condo. They’re tainted. I was going to keep the Bowflex to exercise, though, to start working out again.
“Good for you, Michael,” Joan said, shivering. “It’s important to stay in shape as you get older.”
She sniffled and at first I thought it was from the cold. It must’ve been 15 degrees outside and it was almost noon. I glanced over at her and realized she was crying.
“It’s been hard,” she said. “So hard to let go...”
That’s what she.... NO!!! I told myself...
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of my overcoat and I winced a little. Then I put my arm around her.
“I know you miss him,” I said as gently as I could, studying the light trail of her snot she’d left on my coat. Snowflakes were already sticking to it like flies on that sticky tape you get to catch flies.
“I really appreciated your help in going through all of Werner’s things,” she said. I said it was the most I could do with her and Werner taking in Holly and I the way they did. Especially her, since he mostly forgot who I was and was already on his way out of this world with dementia and other problems probably brought on by a lifetime of hard drinking and carousing. It took me forever to sort through his skiing, golfing and fishing gear, then sell it on eBay. Then came the paperwork and will and trust stuff Joan and Holly had already mostly prepared. Then they left me and Holly the house.
“It all happened so fast,” I offered.
“Yes,” she said, calming down a little and shivering. “I think he waited until Holly moved here,” she said. “Then... he just let go. I think he knew it was time.”
She started sobbing again and I asked her if she wanted some tissues, but she just shook her head.
“He liked you Michael. And he didn’t like a lot of people. He just wasn’t a warm and fuzzy guy. But he liked you. He’s the one that convinced me to give you and Holly the house.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was shocked, honestly. I mean, not totally shocked. I think I just knew how to make him laugh. He had a great, big laugh, and if he really liked a bit or a joke, he’d clap his hands together with a big CLAP. It was the kind of laugh that made all of us laugh, even Holly, even though she could never totally forgive him for his transgressions over the years.
Joan sighed and looked up at the milky gray sky, full of snowflakes, blinking them off her eyelashes as they fell. “Werner would say ‘That man is loyal. And from what Holly tells me, he’s a hard worker.
He said anyone who’s been working in the same place since college—”
“High school,” I said quietly, correcting her.
“...is loyal.” She turned to look at me again, which frankly made me uncomfortable sometimes. It’s like she could see right through me. “And you make Holly happy,” she said. “I think that bought him some peace. He knew you wouldn’t break her heart.”
Did he like AJ? I asked her. “Who’s AJ?” she said, looking confused. I said never mind.
“We are very grateful for the house,” I said. "And it will always really be yours, at least in spirit.”
“No, Michael, I don’t want it to be. I need it to be yours. Really yours. All those photos of Werner... it’s time to take them home. To my home.”
“You can leave some,” I said, patting her hand, shivering under my big red mittens. She gave me a doubtful look. “Please,” I said.
She turned and smiled at me with her bright blue eyes... her daughter’s eyes. Her cheeks puffed into a slight grin. Sad but happy at the same time. She was old but I could see where Holly got her beauty, and her dimples—she was a pretty woman herself. I’ve seen photos of her when she was young and honestly she was pretty hot. Hotter than Hillary Swank.
“OK I’m freezing,” she said. “Let’s get back inside. We need to clean up those Christmas decorations before Hollis gets home.”
We went inside and started a fire, holding our hands close to the flame like two little kids. The snow was melting off her mittens. The heat stung my hands a little bit but also felt really good. A framed photo of Werner was right there in front of me on the mantle, standing there with Holly and Joan. He had his arms around them both, when he was young and strong and Holly was still in college (hot!!) They were in their ski gear on top of some local mountain. I nodded at him, saying something like I hope you’re doing OK up there, Vater. Thank you for everything.
I like to think he heard me. That would be one of the photos I’d want to keep in the house. I suddenly felt bad about complaining about the photos at all. Who cares if there were photos of Werner in the house. They weren’t hurting anyone. And Holly loved them.
“You better hop to it on those carrots,” Joan said, and I snapped out of it. There was a whole pile of carrot shreds on the newspaper in front of me, but I was daydreaming about things like my book signings and TED Talks. I barely ever cooked, but when I did, I liked to think about my dreams, and I like to dream big. What else is there in life, aside from family?
[NEW ENTRY]
New Year’s Eve Day.
Holly came home from work early and I told her I couldn’t wait for her to try our beef stew.
“Our?” she said with a smirk, bringing out her dimples. She looked very suspicious. “Did you help today?”
“Oh, he’s been quite the little helper,” Joan said. She scurried around the kitchen, getting things prepared for the big meal. “Next he’s going to help me set the table!” She ran off to the dining room to light candles and Holly and I followed her in with our forks and glasses.
Holly saw all the cardboard boxes in the far corner of the living room, not too far from the Christmas tree. The St. Pauli girl sign, the big hand chairs.
She looked pleasantly shocked. “What’s all this?” she said, her mouth hanging open a little. I always loved that look.
[NEW ENTRY]
New Year’s Eve dinner went off without a hitch. The beef stew was delicious. We drank a lot of red wine and played Uno (I didn’t win a single game) until midnight. Joan barely made it so she slept in the guest bedroom, which used to be Holly’s bedroom when they would come out here for weekend ski trips and the like. Man, she could snore. We could hear her through the walls, even as we had New Year’s Eve sex!!!! Which was a little weird but also felt kind of hot and dirty. (I should probably buy a safe to keep this diary in before Joan finds it in one of her cleaning sweeps).
The next morning Holly and I got up early and went to a hot yoga class, which I stupidly agreed to the night before to help my chances of getting some on New Year’s Eve. This time, I made sure to poop before I left, NOT eat breakfast, and definitely no peanut butter. It was still sweaty, stinky and miserable, just like it was in Scranton, but the instructor was a beautiful young lass named Caressa who was Polynesian or something. Really pretty buttery brown skin and amazing body, not too skinny. Great butt. Anyway she helped me with my poses and said it was OK to rest in child’s pose if I got too tired. I didn’t like how much she was correcting me but I guess I needed it, being new to this ancient but horrible form of exercise.
After the hard, sweaty part, we settled into our chants and resting and all that, relaxing poses. A strange feeling came over me, like I was in some sort of fever dream. I stared at the ceiling fan swirling overhead, my eyes closed like Caressa said to do. All the chanting and meditation and exhaustion brought about some kind of vision, like a movie or a dream. Holly and I were in the hospital, and she was having our baby. Only as it came out, she was screaming and crying and saying “I don’t want it, I don’t want it, put it back!” The doctor said we can’t put it back so she just screamed louder saying THEN WE’LL GIVE IT TO TOBY!!!
I “woke up” at that point even though I was already awake and had to hold back a little scream myself. Holly was there on her mat next to mine, gently holding my hand and caressing my finger, even though we weren’t supposed to be doing that.
I turned my head to look at her, the sweat stinging my eyes and I started to cry again. GOD NOT AGAIN! What was wrong with me? I felt like a big emotional dish rag, with the yoga class wringing out all this SH*T I’d been feeling and going through since leaving Scranton, watching Werner die, marrying Holly, starting this new life together. It was all so scary, sad and wonderful at the same time. She just stared back into my eyes and she started crying and smiling too, like she knew exactly what I was thinking and what I was going through. What we’d gone through together and what we’d always go through together, I guess. I remembered why I was here in this class, why I loved her so much.
Let’s face it, we’re all glad she said yes, right? And that it wasn’t Jan. Amy Ryan was perfect casting for the one who’d truly steal Michael Scott’s heart.
[NEW ENTRY]
I started writing again, just a few days into the new year. I seemed to be settling into the groove. I had this new system where I’d jot down notes or sometimes whole paragraphs with my new Cross pen into my notebook. Then when I dumped out all the rough stuff, I’d turn that into actual chapters through the book.
Today I finished a whole new chapter, “INSPIRING AND MOTIVATING YOUR TEAM” full of great stories from DM like our day at the beach, the bus drive to get pie, the Dundies and Prison Mike (classic). I did not include Diversity Day because that was an obvious #fail after Kelly slapped me.
I made lunch with the new grille Joan got me. It has actually become my favorite—much better than the Foreman Grille—but of course she didn’t need to know that. I made grilled ham and cheese. My new favorite lunch. Yum.
I started doing the dishes and looked out the window again across our backyard, the trees on the hill packed with snow like huge piles of vanilla ice cream. The snow has been falling all week, and a lot harder. Joan is coming by less. Maybe she’s just settling down now that the holidays are over and it’s a new year.
For some reason, I thought about everything David Wallace said before I moved out here, making me feel like I was making a mistake. At least for a little bit before the move.
Sure there were a lot of skiers, but Joan and Holly both read a ton (Lonesome Dove is their favorite). And I still hadn’t encountered any racists—although I admit I hadn’t really been out much or meeting new people. Anyway what does Wallace know, what with his white privilege and living in his big stupid mansion outside Scranton. He barely ever talked to Darryl, Stanley or Kelly and I treated them like family—or at least distant relatives.
Who knows, maybe everything he said is true after all. I guess I would get to know the truth in time. But man, the views here are incredible.
And it is our new home.
END
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This story and the included photos are works of fiction inspired by "The Office," a television series created by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant and originally produced by BBC. The characters and images are trademarks or copyright material of NBCUniversal Television Distribution, Universal Television, Deedle-Dee Productions, and Reveille Productions LLC. This is not an official product and is not endorsed by any of the aforementioned entities, including but not limited to NBC and Peacock streaming service.
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