Pam brushed one wild curl out of her face with a blue hand, singing along with the radio under her breath. Then, after momentarily examining her work in progress, she went back to her palette. Taking up a generous amount of yellow on her dirty brush, she applied it to the image in front of her.

She had woken, a little after six this morning, and felt a small balloon of…hope? In her chest. It was such a new experience for her, she quite know what to make of it at first. But quickly, she’d realized she needed to chase this feeling.

And so now, here she stood in the middle of her small living room, dirty feet crunching on the month-old newspaper she’d laid down to protect her ugly carpet. She dipped into her palette for more blue, mixing it with the yellow she’d just deposited on the canvas. Pam didn’t actually know what she was creating, was for the first time in her life just painting for the sake of painting. Not over-thinking the process, or even thinking the process for that matter.

“And don’t be afraid to let them show…” Pam sang to no one.

It was truly amazing she had been the mood to do anything today, let alone the very notion of prancing around her apartment in just an oversized Oxford shirt and doing her best Cyndi Lauper impersonation.

Last night had been one of the most enlightening moments of her life. She knew now that not marrying him was the right decision. She’d been so falsely positive about getting back together, but even Oscar, who’d been out of the country for three months had seen through her façade. How stupid she must look to everyone now, all her co-workers who gave her funny looks when she mentioned she was back with her ex. Even the way the documentary film crew had treated her in the interview she’d done last week, talking about how happy she was. Did everyone know she was full of it the entire time?

‘No, Jim didn’t,’ Pam thought. ‘He didn’t even notice we were back together. He was too busy being happy with someone else.’

Not that it mattered. Part of realizing she’d made the right decision in calling off her wedding was also acknowledging she had made the wrong choice in lying to Jim when he’d finally out his heart on the line and told her the truth. And realizing that now he was happy and she needed to move on. She was still in the process of convincing herself of that last thing.

She’d called him a couple times after she’d gotten home last night, but had gotten no response. After compressing the cynical anger she’d felt, knowing he had looked at his called ID and ignored her, she’d simply given up. Giving up was her routine these days anyway. Pushing away thoughts of him with her, Pam had slipped into a hot bath, glass of red wine in hand, and soaked for close to thirty minutes. ‘He made this bed, so let him lay in it’, she thought bitterly.

The weight in her chest, the inherent worry she felt for him hadn’t left her in the past sixteen hours, but Pam was determined to make it an abstract thought. The only problem was, she knew deep down it was no use. The same way she knew deep down that getting back together with Roy was going to end badly. It was inevitable, her heart had made the choice, even if her head was still convinced of another alternative, any other alternative.

Without realizing it, Pam had become more and more aggressive, now using harsh brush strokes against the defenseless canvas. Streaks of color, angry in their application, covered her piece. But there was something else driving her, pushing her to the finish line. It was a feeling she’d had only a few times in her life. Pam was mostly sad to realize the last time had been in a dark office, pressed backwards against a desk. Extracting the exact emotion she was pulling from that moment was too difficult just yet. Instead, she continued to layer colors, thick in their consistency, onto the stretched fabric.

A knock on her door pulled her out of the trance she had been in. Setting down her brush on the easel ledge, she turned down the volume on her small radio. She flounced over to the door, fully expecting to be met with the building super, who had told her he would be over to fix an outlet in her kitchen.

When Pam threw the door open, she was met with a sight she never would have guessed she’d see.

There stood Jim, in worn jeans and an old t-shirt, hands shoved in his pockets, purposely not making eye contact with her. She watched as his eyes took in her bare feet, up her legs, torso, and finally to her face. She could guess his look of shock was put to shame by her own. His left eye was swollen and purple.

“Oh, my God,” she cried, rushing toward him. She rose up on her toes, tenderly cupping his face to examine Roy’s handiwork. Jim closed his good eye, flinching ever so slightly at her touch. Immediately stepping back from him, Pam suddenly realized how little she was wearing, and absentmindedly tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Are.. Are you okay?” She asked belatedly.

“I’m lucky, my face is really hard,” he said completely deadpan. “One punch hurt the poor guys hand a little, I think. He said something about it not being over and went home, presumably to pass out.”

Pam bit her lower lip and nodded, looking down at the ground. Glancing back up, she saw he was looking at her carefully. “I’m sorry,” she offered, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

“Oh, for what?” he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Her jaw tightening, Pam rolled her eyes. “I called you,” she finally said, a tad defensive. Jim’s eye clouded briefly before letting the anger swim there again. Pam moved aside silently, allowing Jim access to her apartment. Wordlessly, he stepped into her living room, taking in the sight of the artistic mess she’d left. Ignoring the state of disaster, she asked the back of his head, “Was Karen with you when…?”

“No,” he answered, not taking his eyes off her work for a long period of time. When he ultimately did, his glare was accusatorial. “I haven’t seen her yet. Have any good cover story ideas?”

“It’s like two in the afternoon,” Pam pointed out.

“She goes to the gym on Saturday mornings and works out until after lunch,” Jim sighed.

“Of course she does, she’s perfect,” Pam shot out under her breath.

“Excuse me?” Jim asked, dumbfounded. He started to fidget, and at length crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Pam’s stance.

Pam felt her instincts kick in. The instinct she’d been listening to her whole life, which told her to play it off, deny she’d said anything. But, as of last night, Pam was done being a pushover, and for once, Jim was going to hear what was on her mind.

“I said ‘she’s perfect’. She goes to the gym all day to work off the non-existent fat on her body, and I’m standing here in a filthy apartment with paint in my hair.” Pam tucked her bangs behind her ears. “You definitely made the right choice, didn’t you?”

Jim stared at her for a long moment as if she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. She was bating him, and she knew it wasn’t’ fair, but she currently also didn’t care. Turning back to her canvas, he said slowly, “She’s not perfect.” Pam cursed herself for allowing her heartbeat to quicken at this miniscule admission. When he turned to face her again, she held fast to his gaze, not letting it break. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat. “I was just wondering if this was a one time thing,” he gestured to his face, “or if I can expect it to be a weekly occurrence in my life now, getting punched by your boyfriend.” He was back to being the smarmy guy who had walked into the room a few minutes ago now. Pam felt better. This guy was easier to be harsh on.

“Ex,” Pam answered needlessly. She didn’t miss the surprise on Jim’s face. He recovered quickly.

“Yeah, for how long this time?”

Pam physically reeled back from this, incredulous that he’d said it. Letting go of a bitter chuckle, Pam clenched her fists at her side. “If you came over to lay some sort of guilt trip on me for actually acknowledging the truth to him after lying for the last ten months-”

“Which is what exactly?” He cut in quickly.

Without even pausing, Pam went on. “Then go ahead. Yes, it’s my fault, because instead of marrying someone I didn’t love, I stopped it.” She practically spit the words at him. “And I did try to warn you that he might blame the whole thing on you,” she added. “You were too busy being a corporate suit to answer your phone when the little people call though.”

Jim actually looked like she’d slapped him across the face. “Wow,” he choked softly. She’d seen this look that night, when she’d told him she couldn’t….

Jim had turned back to her oil, staring at it again, probably because it was the only thing in the apartment to look at that wasn’t her.

“What did you tell him?” he asked softly without turning toward her.

“I don’t think that matters,” Pam deflected. She rubbed her hand across her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a migraine.

“Don’t you think I should get some say in whether or not it matters?” Jim turned to her, and the expression on his face made her heart hurt. There was such a strange combination of trepidation and…desperation there. She thought for one brief moment that he really did want to hear that she loved him and that was the reason he looked like half a raccoon right now.

“I…I told Roy that…” she exhaled loudly. “I told him that we kissed on Casino Night, and that I-”

She was stopped by a knock on the door. Feeling like she was on The Dean Martin Show, she walked over and opened the door, revealing Stan the super.

“Stan the man,” Pam cooed, smiling at him. She often flirted with the older man. It meant her stuff got fixed faster than others.

“Pamela,” he greeted her with a grin. Taking in Jim, he asked, “New boyfriend?” with a twinkle in his eye.

Before Jim had a chance to answer, his cell phone rang. Digging into his pocket, he pulled it out. He grimaced slightly at the caller ID.

“Hey,” he said quietly, wandering toward her bathroom.

“He’s chatty,” Stan deadpanned, walking to the kitchen. Pam looked after Jim for a moment before following Stan. “Did he get into a bar fight?”

“No, he got into the middle of a ten-year relationship,” Pam answered, instantly feeling bad about the comment.

“I’ve been with my wife for twenty-nine years, and let me tell you, there’s really not that much difference.”

Pam left the kitchen and wandered back over to her painting, taking in her work of art. There was something here, she could feel it, she just couldn’t see it. All the blue and yellow she’d used had blended in the center of the canvas, resulting in a green mass, almost teal in its intensity.

“Just a loose wire, kid,” Stan said, entering from the next room. She thanked him as he left, toolbox in hand. She loved that he could perform any task in roughly three minutes and still had time to finesse his stand-up routine.

Jim entered from the bathroom, his cell phone put away now.

“Karen?” Pam asked needlessly, not taking her eyes off of the painting.

“Yeah,” Jim answered grimly. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, strain in his features.

“Yeah,” Pam repeated sadly. She didn’t need to ask to know he was two seconds from leaving her, leaving all this still unanswered. And really, maybe it was better this way. Maybe he was better not knowing. It would make it easier to lie to Karen as soon as he left here anyway.

He noticed she was studying the oil in front of her and he looked at it one last time.

“Do you see anything?” She asked, tilting her head in her quest to make something of it.

He took a deep breath and strode to the door. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he gave her the answer.

“It’s a teapot.”

And then he was gone.

Maybe she really had given him the truth after all.

Karen stepped out into the spring air, breathing in deeply. The minimal amount of sweat that had formed on her arms, her forehead dried in the slight briskness of the Pennsylvania breeze. ‘Good,’ she thought, taking a sip from her bottled water. ‘I hate it when I sweat all over the interior of my car’.

She had made the choice not to shower at the gym for several reasons, one of them being her unwillingness to stand naked in a bare cement shower stall surrounded by strangers. Karen had actually never been one to flaunt nudity, even back in Stamford when she would work out with her girlfriends. It was just something she’d never been comfortable with. Back in high school, super skinny and straight as a stick, she’d been overly self-conscious about her body image. And so, when faced with the option, Karen chose to go home, where she could stand under the hot spray for twenty minutes, singing at the top of her lungs. She was going through a retro Pretenders phase currently, crooning as she would shampoo her hair.

Flipping open her cell phone as she settled into her car, she hit speed dial three. It rang three times before he answered, with a quiet “hey”.

“Hey,” she answered, pulling out of her parking spot and making her way out onto the street. “I’m just leaving the fabulous Scranton Uno Fitness Incorporated. What are you doing?”

She heard a door close on his end, and then he answered, still somewhat softly, “Oh, not much. Did some laundry…” He stopped talking.

“What’s wrong?” She asked cautiously. She knew Jim wasn’t a big talker, but something in his tone told her he was upset.

“Nothing, I’m just tired I guess.” And he sounded tired, defeated even.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she replied, stopping at a red light. “It was all that wild partying we did last night,” she cracked, hoping to get him back into normal Jim territory, humor.

“Yeah,” was all he said.

“Jim, what’s wrong?” she asked again, this time firmer in her tone. Jim knew by now that when she used this voice, what he jokingly referred to as her ‘mom voice’, she meant business.

He was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “It’s not a big deal, I just have a headache and you kind of woke me up.” Something about the way he answered made him sound almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Last night you just told me to call you today when I got done working out.” He was cranky today. She silently prayed he hadn’t partaken in Michael’s potato salad last night. It had been too…shiny.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he immediately responded. “I guess spending last night in Michael and Dwight’s company just made me crazier than usual.”

“And that is saying something,” she cracked without missing a beat. Now this, this she could handle.

She had only known Jim for nine months, but as far as she could tell, he had a split personality. There was the affable, nice, sweet guy who was constantly trying to get her to smile. That guy was the one she’d followed to Scranton. He was the only one she’d ever met prior to moving here. But once she got here, she’d seen another side of him. Quiet, sad, constantly introspective. She would look up from her desk and see him simply staring off into space, eyes glazed over.

“Yeah,” was all he answered.

“Well, where are you? Are you at home?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Why?” He asked, sounding almost startled.

“I was just gonna stop over, dork,” she chided him, chuckling. “I could bring you some soup, give you aspirin, play a little Florence Nightingale.”

“Do you have a naughty nurse uniform, Fillipelli?” He asked, his voice going up in register. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me!”

“Rubber shoes and all,” she giggled back, pulling into her driveway. “So, I’m gonna stop over, okay?”

“Oh, hey. Why don’t you give me a few minutes, okay? Put my face on?”

Something was definitely wrong. Whenever Karen asked (or told) him about stopping at his place, his answer was always ‘Yeah, the door’s open. I’ll be here.’

“Jim, what’s going on?” It came out more accusatorial than she meant it to.

“I just, just give me a couple minutes, okay?” He asked. “It will give you a chance to clean up.”

Now, on the one of two occasions she’d gone straight to his place from the gym on Saturdays, he had not seemed to have any problem with her showering there, even joining her. As much as Karen hated showering in front of strangers, she didn’t mind showering with the tall paper salesman at all. She’d felt completely comfortable with him, sexually from the start. He had a slowness, a reverence in the way he worked that made her tingle.

Instead of making another obvious sexual overtone, she simply dropped it. “Okay, whatever.” Maybe she actually had been showering with a stranger all this time. “Why don’t you come over when you’re done doing whatever secretive thing it is you’re doing, okay?”

She hit the ‘end’ button on her cell phone and tossed it into the side pocket on her duffel bag, striding into her house.

As she threw her bag down in her foyer and walked purposefully into her bathroom, one nagging feeling wouldn’t leave her subconscious. This was about Pam.

She knew the receptionist was a huge part of Jim’s life, bigger than either of them would ever acknowledge. After he’d told her at the gay accountant’s fiesta that he still cared about her, Karen had been quite proud of the amount of resilience and pluck she’d exhibited. Hearing your steady is still pining after someone else is not the greatest thing in the world, after all. In the ensuing conversations they’d had about it, fueled by her own morbid curiosity, she’d learned that Pam was engaged to a loser and Jim mostly just felt bad for her having a life she didn’t want. He had formed a crush on her and, upon telling her, Pam had apparently told him she wanted nothing to do with him. And so, because he didn’t want it to be awkward for her, he transferred to Stamford. It had taken five nights to get this small amount of information, and about half of it was inferred by Karen herself. No, he was definitely not a talker.

Even so, it was only when Pam wasn’t in his vicinity that she appeared to be the problem. Thinking back to the day of that fiesta, Jim had been gleeful to share a joke with the redhead, completely unabashedly giggling with her about the downfall of Andy. It was the Jim she’d known in Stamford, the one she thought was hers. It was only later, when he was alone with Karen, that he’d seemed heartbroken once again.

Karen started the water, testing it with her hand before stepping under the spray. It was always in those moments of his undoing that he would either shut her out completely or turn a one-eighty and come to her, wanting her, even voracious on occasion, always making her feel beautiful.

“The powers that be that force us to live like we do,” Karen sang loudly to no one. She heard a noise come from the living room and sighed. He had let himself in with the key she’d given him over a month ago, right around Valentine’s Day. It was right around that time that things really seemed to start clicking with them. After Phyllis’s wedding, he’d seemed attentive, happy. Karen could not figure out what the sudden change between last night and this afternoon could be.

She didn’t call to him, didn’t really want to talk to him at all. If he wanted to start this surly immature cycle al over again, he could, but she wasn’t going to join in this time.

He quietly opened the bathroom door and entered. “Hey,” he said, his tone an apology in and of itself.

“Hi,” she answered, careful to keep her voice cool. She continued to rinse the suds out of her hair in silence. Then, she heard the sound of a zipper, followed by the soft thud as his clothes hit the floor of her bathroom. Karen bit her lip, adding conditioner to her scalp. The sound of the shower curtain being opened turned her attention to him.

There he stood, completely naked. But his nudity was the furthest thing from her mind. Covering his left eye was a large purple bruise, encompassing practically half his face.

“What the hell happened?” Karen asked, forgetting the anger she had felt toward him a moment ago.

“I got into a fist fight with the mailman,” he answered without missing a beat. Karen narrowed her eyes at him warningly. “Don’t make any wise cracks about their shorts, let me tell you.”

“Jim.”

“Can we talk about it later, please?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her slowly. She allowed him to, cupping his face gingerly as he stepped into her tub and wrapped his arms around her naked body.

‘Maybe none of it really matters’, Karen thought as she ran her lips along his jaw line. ‘Maybe all that really matters is he wants me. If he really wanted her, he would be with her, right?’

And then his lips moved down her torso, hands whispering across her ribcage, and she forgot why she was mad at him in the first place.

“And in just one…two…three seconds, you have homemade chicken salad, without all the messy chopping!”

Roy rolled over in bed slowly, groaning. He swallowed three times in rapid succession, but it didn’t cure the severe cottonmouth he was suffering from. Glancing bleary-eyed over at the large digital clock, he saw it was a little after eleven. He’d slept about eight hours at least. If given the option, he would roll over and sleep for the next three years. And not only because of the hangover that was determined to make its presence known by banging on his skull.

Last night had been possibly the worst night of his life. He’d been working so hard for the last eight months at trying to make her happy. She had done a very good job of convincing him that everything that had caused her to call off the wedding had been his fault. He didn’t listen, he wouldn’t grow up, and he didn’t appreciate her. And really, when it came right down to it, he’d wasted the last year, no, the last ten years of his life on this girl. A girl who was so fickle she decided to cancel the most important day of her life just because some geek with a Teen Beat haircut stuck his tongue down her throat.

Roy sat up, his vision swimming for a moment before focusing in on the infomercial that was currently playing on the television he had gotten for his bedroom. It was something he’d treated himself to after Pam had moved her stuff out, on account of her never wanting on in here in the first place. She’d always thought it should be a place for sleep and only sleep, but now many times had she kept him awake by reading in the morning hours, curled up on her side with a book? On those nights, unable to sleep with a halogen lamp blinding him, he would climb out of bed and proceed to the couch, where he would flop down, perturbed at being ousted from his own bed.

“Kenny!” he called, making his way down the hallway. His too-large pajama pants drug along the carpet, but he didn’t really care. Entering the living room, he took in his brother, splayed face down on the rug in from of the big screen. “Hey,” he persisted, judging his sibling with a bare foot. “Get up, man. I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Roy slowly shuffled his way into the kitchen, not waiting for his brother to stir before starting work on a hangover remedy. Trying to remember what Pam had always given him, he pulled out a dozen eggs and some tomato juice from his fridge. He stared at the rest of the contents of the fridge, scanning his memory unsuccessfully. His mind flew to a completely ridiculous thought that involved calling her to ask her what the ingredients were before physically shaking his head to remove the idea. ‘To hell with that,’ he thought angrily, putting the eggs and juice back into the refrigerator.

To hell with her, too. The thing that made the warehouse worker the maddest of all was the notion that Pam had only gotten back together with him in some sick twist attempt to get back at Halpert for banging that hot new girl. Had he only been a pawn in some master scheme that Pam had to win over the sales guy? Had she been trying to make Jim jealous by taking up with him again?

Roy thought back to the night of Bob Vance’s wedding, when he’d brought her back here, her hands shaking slightly as she unbuttoned his shirt. When he’d pressed her into the mattress, his fingers running over her curves roughly, had she closed her eyes in ecstasy, or was it merely that she was imagining someone else with her?

He pulled out a nearly full carton of orange juice and, bending over to his liquor cabinet, produced an unopened bottle of vodka. Pouring equals parts into a tall glass, he took a large swallow. The liquor heated his belly, and he felt a tiny bit of his physical tension dissipate.

‘And Halpert,’ he ruminated, taking another drink. Where the hell did he come off? He sat the glass down and looked at the swollen knuckles on his right hand. He’d had too much to drink last night, that was for sure. After not drinking at all for the last eight months since he’d gotten his DUI, his body was a little under prepared for his normal drinking habits, let alone the new heights on inebriation he’d reached last night. “Just another thing I did for her,” he said aloud bitterly. It had felt good hitting the bastard though.

“Whu?” Kenny stumbled into the kitchen, half his face flat and red and covered in carpet marks. “Hey,” he said once he’d gotten his bearings.

“That son of a bitch stole her right out from under me,” Roy said in lieu of ‘hello’. “I trusted him. She said they were friends, he said they were friends…” He poured a large screwdriver for his brother before taking another sip from his own. “What if she was cheating on the me the whole time?”

“What did I tell you, man?” Kenny grabbed his morning cocktail and sat down at the kitchen table. “I said to you after she left you last year that she wasn’t worth it, didn’t I?” He gave Roy a leveling stare. “I said to you, I said you should find some hot young thing to screw and did you? No….” He took a drink, smacking his lips loudly.

“I need to beat the hell out of Halpert,” Roy reasoned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Pam’s hands had wandered over it just the other night, silently promising him the fresh start he’d been hoping for ever since she’d left.

“No, you don’t,” Kenny answered without even looking at his brother.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” Roy interjected.

“No,” Kenny repeated. “You beat him up, and you’re the bad guy, dude. Trust me, if you hurt him more than you already have, she’s gonna hate you.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Roy replied, chugging down the rest of his screwdriver. Without thinking, he poured himself another one.

“Yes, you do,” Kenny countered. “That’s the part of this that is so messed up, too. Even though she treats you like garbage, lies to you, uses you, you still love her.” He tips his head back, emptying the contents of his glass. “And she loves the nerd with the huge ears.” He chuckled. “Seriously, have you seen those things?”

Roy laughed half-heartedly at Kenny’s slight against the paper salesman. He was so mad at her, at him that he couldn’t see straight, but his brother was right. He did still love her. And there was only one thing he could do about it now.

Without thinking about it another second, he picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial two. He left the kitchen, over the sound the Kenny shouting to hang up the phone.

“Hello.” He voice could freeze water.

“Hey.”

“What do you want Roy?” She asked curtly. “You want a list of more of my friends you can beat up because I said something you didn’t want to hear last night?”

Was she kidding with this? She really was blaming him?

“Whoa, hold on there-” he started.

“You know, he really doesn’t have anything to do with this.” So, she’d already seen him. She’d probably rushed over as soon as she heard that her mean old boyfriend had punched the poor little guy. He had gone down like a little girl, after all. The idea of Pam standing over his bed, nursing him back to health made his blood boil.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with this? Pammy-”

“Don’t call me Pammy,” she got in, flatly.

“What the hell, Pam!” he yelled into the phone.

“Roy,” she said warningly.

He sighed, taking the volume level down about eight clicks. “What kind of an ass tells an engaged woman he has feelings for her?”

“One that probably didn’t mean it in the first place,” she answered quietly. Clearing her throat, she continued. “Look, Jim moved, he came back with a girlfriend. He hasn’t even really spoken to me since he moved back here, okay? Trust me, he doesn‘t still care about me.”

“Then why would you tell me this whole thing Pam? Were you just trying to piss me off? Push me? Did we even get back together because you wanted to, or was it all about Halpert?”

She initially didn’t answer the question, falling silent. “I wanted to see if I’d made a mistake by leaving I guess.” She said it in a very small voice. “I just thought you should know the reason the wedding was called off.”

“Because you were in love with Jim?” He asked sharply.

“I knew that we were not right. You had to know that too Roy. We were fighting all the time.”

“That’s what couples do, they fight, they make up. Jesus, Pam. Did you really think marriage was going to be like some stupid fairytale? Do you think Jim can give that to you?”

“Jim…Jim is not the issue here, Roy. Do you ever listen to what I say?”

“Yeah, I heard you say that he was just a friend, I heard you say you wanted things to work with us…” He shot back. “Am I missing something?”

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke up again. “Can you tell me you’ll leave him alone?”

There was a pleading tone in her voice that made him nauseous. And then he remembered something. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question,” she asked, sounding weary.

“Are you in love with Halpert?”

She paused. “Are you going to leave him alone?”

“I don’t really need another assault charge on my record.” He stopped, then, readying himself for the inevitable, he asked again. “Are you in love with Halpert?”

Silence. He could hear a muffled sound, and then she sniffled slightly.

“I am trying not to be.”

The final nail in the coffin. Roy cursed under his breath.

“Roy, you promised.”

But he wasn’t really listening anymore. Everything that had happened in the last ten years was undone now. What did his life even mean if she wasn’t part of it?

“Roy?”

“Tell Michael I won’t be in on Monday,” he said dully.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Is it okay that I don’t believe you?” he asked, and then hung up on her. Strolling back into the kitchen, he picked up his glass and threw it at the wall, the sticky residue sure to stain the white a shade of orange.

It was over.

“How many times can TBS show ‘Overboard’?” He flipped quickly through her channels. She only had thirty-some, a paltry sum when compared to his several hundred.

“What’s ‘Overboard’?” Karen asked, handing him a coffee mug before curling up on the couch next to him. He hated this couch. It was made of a fake leather fabric, black in color. It was slippery all the time and hot when it should be cool and cold when it should be warm.

He turned to her, certain she must be joking. How could she not know? He closed his mouth, which had dropped open slightly in shock. “Classic Kurt Russell, Goldie Hawn? She loses her memory and he convinces her they’re married so she’ll clean his house and stuff?” Jim furrowed his eyebrows at her. Did she live in a cave?

“How can you say it’s a classic and then complain that it’s always on?” Karen asked, a smirk on her ace. He knew she was just teasing him, trying to get him to smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to give in and grin. He really should, she hadn’t grilled him about the fact that he mysteriously had shown up looking like a bear had mauled him. Which is pretty much what had happened.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he conceded. Flipping to ESPN, he dropped the remote, pretending to be engrossed in the World Series of Poker. He could feel her eyes on him, watching as he inattentively scratched a dry patch of skin on his jaw line.

“So,” she said finally. He half-turned toward her. She was looking at him expectantly, her lips pursed. Jim merely stared at her. She chuckled softly, pushing him playfully. “Are you going to tell me who kicked your ass, Halpert?”

“I didn’t get my ass kicked,” Jim answered, smiling down at his hands, settled in his lap. “Just punted a little.”

“Jim”, she implored, leaning down to try and catch his gaze. He looked up, and knew that he was not going to get out of this unscathed. He shifted, the couch beneath him making a slightly inappropriate noise. “Nice,” Karen said, giggling. She instantly dropped her grin, and met his gaze with one of consternation. “Tell me.”

“Um,” Jim started, unsure of how to begin. “Apparently Roy…Roy decided last night that he needed a new punching bag and the thought my face would be a suitable replacement,” he sneered, running a hand through his still damp hair.

“What?” Karen sputtered looking alarmed. “Roy? From the warehouse? The guy who’s dating Pam?”

“Uh, yeah.” He raised the coffee mug to his lips and took a sip, grimacing. Karen always made her coffee too strong for his taste.

“Why?” she asked.

“You know how I told you…” He scratched his forehead, immediately regretting it as the bruise on his face started to throb. “I told you that I’d told Pam I had a crush on her?” Karen nodded, her expression guarded. Then she was completely still, waiting for him to go on. “Well, I left out a part of the story, I guess. She was…sort of…engaged to Roy.“ Jim winced, waiting for the impending explosion from his girlfriend.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she merely asked softly.

“I didn’t think it was important at the time,” he answered, and it was the truth. He’d been very careful to leave out small details from the tale he had told her. Everything that didn’t seem pertinent to the situation at the time had been glossed over. But then, Pam had unbelievably gone back to the moron, wiping away all the personal strength he’d slowly watched her gain. And that was when everything had gone to hell. Karen had been excited to see them dating, almost too excited quite frankly. Jim had never had the guts to ask her why she was so gung-ho on them as a couple; afraid of how close to the fire he could dance without getting burned.

“How much else did you lie to me about?” she asked, getting off the couch to pace her small living room. Jim turned the television off and rose to approach her.

“I didn’t lie to you, Karen.” He promptly wished he hadn’t said it. He hadn’t ever overtly lied to her, it was true, but there were many instances in which he had omitted part of the truth to spare her feelings, his feelings, and even Pam’s feelings.

What had prompted her to paint that teapot? Had she not realized that’s what she was creating? Jim had stared at it for a long time, letting his vision blur the way he had when he was young and his grandmother would give him and ‘Magic Eye’ book. But, if she really hadn’t seen it for herself, there was no way it meant what he wanted so desperately for it to mean anyway. He probably could have guessed that from the way she’d been acting this morning. Pam had seemed so irrationally angry with him earlier. Closed down from him, as if he hadn’t been the one who’d taken the brunt of her bad decisions as of late.

“Actually, you did, Jim.” She responded, crossing her arms over her chest. Anger flashed in her dark eyes, but her voice remained calm. Worse, it was neutral.

Jim closed his good eye momentarily. “Karen,” he started. “Okay, I’m going to tell you everything. I want- I need to. But I need you to sit down and listen, okay?” He gestured for her to return to the horrible slippery couch. She sighed and flounced to sit, tucking a leg underneath herself. Jim remained standing. “Um…” he said. “I wasn’t completely…” He stopped, not wanting to tell her he’d lied to her on purpose. “I didn’t just have crush on Pam. I…” he sighed. “I was in love with her.”

Karen stared at him, not showing any hint of surprise. “For how long?” She asked evenly.

Swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, he answered. “About three years.”

“Jim,” she said in a tone that sounded almost scolding. “You led me to believe that you were hung up on her for a few months.”

“I know,” he replied apologetically. “And I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t…couldn’t talk about it with you, with anyone.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “It just…I couldn’t do it. Please understand.”

“And, so why now are you telling me?” Karen asked biting her lower lip. Jim swallowed down the impulse to reply it was because she’d told him to when he saw the look on her face. He could tell she was hoping against hope that this was still going to end well for her.

He ignored the headache that was persistently pounding his temples. “When, when I came back, I was mad. Really mad at her. She seemed like she wanted to go back to being friends with me, and it was something that I really didn’t want.” He rubbed his hands over the back of his neck, wondering what miracle was going to get him of out this alive. “I guess you could say I’ve finally learned that anything else I was ever waiting for was stupid.” He stepped closer to her. “I just want to get this behind us, so we can be happy.”

“I have been happy,” she said softly, looking down. Glancing back up, she continued. “So, I was like your buffer”, she deduced.

The way she was painting this so black and white made Jim uneasy. Mostly because he knew she was completely right. ‘She’s smart’, he thought angrily. ‘How did you think you were ever going to get such a huge thing past her without suspicion?’ Instead of directly answering that question, Jim attempted another tack.

“I really like you, Karen.” She snorted derisively, tucking her perfect shiny hair behind her ear. All he could think for a moment was that it would be better if it were spattered with paint and frizzing at the ends. “And I think…I think that we could have b- can be great. If we had stayed in Stamford-”

“If we had stayed in Stamford,” she cut in, “you wouldn’t have needed to date me in the first place.” Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me Jim; was I just the second prize from the get-go? What was the point of dating me at all if she was the one you wanted the whole time?”

Jim felt his heart twist painfully. None of this was Karen’s fault. All she’d done was care about him. She stood up, making her way back toward her bedroom. Panicking, he followed her. “So, wait, is that it?”

“I don’t know what else we’re going to talk about here, Jim. I think you’re more scared of being around Pam without any shield than you are that we won’t be together.” She turned to face him finally, her face an amalgamation of hurt, resentment, and pain.

“Is this over?” Jim asked quietly, getting close enough to touch her, but leaving his hands at his side.

“Answer a question for me, Jim.” She diverted, standing still. “Would you have come back to Scranton if Pam had married Roy?”

His mind went blank. It was something he honestly had never lent thought to. Instantly, he knew there was no way he could have been able to face her again, knowing she had married someone so…wrong for her. His heart would not have been able to take it. Before he could search for an answer, she laughed bitterly.

“That’s what I thought.” She walked back to her bedroom, calling, “Leave your key on the coffee table on your way out.”

Jim couldn’t quite believe that she was ending it like this. Slowly walking over to the sofa, he sat down to stuff his feet into his old school Converse high tops.

The black couch squeaked under his thighs again.

Pam looked up from her desk for the thirty-ninth time since she’d arrived that morning. She was once again met with the back of his neck. She knew this area of flesh like her own body by now. She’d absentmindedly sketched it countless times, tracing the lines of his collar, the way his hair curled at the ends. Her pencil slid over the paper, knowing the lines by heart. Something caught her eye, and pulling her eyes from his form, Pam noticed Karen watching her, a strange glint in her eye. It was the first time the two women had shard a look that wasn’t laced with indifference and jealousy in some time, and it intrigued Pam.

Pam had almost turned around four times on the way to work this morning, dreading today more with every block she passed. She’d spent the entirety of Sunday berating herself for telling Roy the truth in a bar that was crowded with her co-workers. There was no way everyone wouldn’t be watching her and judging her, but strangely, none of the pitying stares were coming from the two people she assumed would be giving them.

The phone rang, pulling Pam’s thoughts away. “Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”

“Hi Pam, it’s Jan.” The corporate manager sounded weary, which was actually her default tone.

“Hi Jan. You want Michael?” She as already reaching toward the extension button for his office, where he say playing with his toys.

“No, actually I’m returning a call from Karen.” Pam furrowed her brow, glancing up at the brunette, who was now furtively watching Jim.

“Oh, okay. Yeah…sure.” Pam connected Jan to Karen’s extension and hung up the phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Karen picked up the phone, talking quietly into the mouthpiece.

“Pam, Pam…Pameron Diaz.” She glanced up, unconsciously covering her work in progress with both hands. Michael stood at the reception desk, arms resting on the counter. “Pameron..Crowe. Looking very hot today.” Pam groaned.

When she’d woken up this morning, she had felt a peculiar heat in her belly, the remnants of anger that had plagued her ever since her encounter with Jim Saturday morning. Without thinking twice about it, she’d pulled on the shirt she’d bought online. If all eyes were going to be on her anyway, she might as well make it good. And that good thing, Pam had to admit, was she. She’d spent extra time on her hair and makeup, straightening her locks and then curling them as well as applying mascara and lip-gloss. Pam had felt bad that she looked good today and Jim was going to come in with only half a working face, but she’d gotten over it in about two seconds. ‘I’m evolving’, he’d said to her. Well, so had she now. She would wear makeup and the short skirts she used to keep in the back of her closet. She would smile at the deliveryman later and maybe even flirt with Toby at lunch today.

Even though she’d evolved, or was in the process, Michael’s comment made her blanch slightly.

“Thank you,” she said, tight-lipped.

“I mean, really. It makes your jugs look-”

“What’s up?” Pam asked, urging him toward his point, if he had one.

“I was just wondering if you could join me in my office for a minute?” His eyes reflexively flitted over toward Jim, then back again. She followed his gaze, taking in the tall paper salesman.

“Um, yeah.” She stood slowly, stepping around to the front of her counter and following him toward his door. Instinctively, she threw a look of impending doom to Jim. He was staring pointedly at his computer screen and pretending she didn’t exist. Remembering she was evolving, she brushed it off and stepped into the office, shutting the door behind herself.

“Take a seat,” Michael said brightly, pointing opposite himself. She did so, looking at him expectantly. “Pam, we’re friends, right?”

“Oh no,” she mumbled, glancing down at her hands, folded in her lap, before meeting his eyes again. “Sure, Michael.”

“Are you okay, Pam?” The deepness of the remark startled her, and her eyes widened.

“Um,” she bit her lower lip for a moment, trying to find the words to get him off this scent. Sighing, she answered. “I’m fine.” Pam paused, contemplating telling him more. “Roy and I got into a fight this weekend, and we’re…over.” She fidgeted, crossing her legs and then uncrossing them again.

“Oh,” Michael exhaled, a look of concern of his face. “Well, I’m sure you guys will work it out.”

“No,” she responded flatly, shaking her head.

“Oh, thank God.” His expression became one of relief. Pam felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to side with my man Jim on this, you know. We’re like best friends.” And just like that, the smile dropped again.

“Um, I don’t know...” she shook her head, not really trusting her voice anymore. Pam didn’t know how this ignorant boob could possibly be this spot-on about her life. But Michael was off in his own little Michael-world now, and all she could do was hold on for dear life.

“I mean, I don’t think that he still loves you, because he is with Karen, who is insanely hot. So don’t worry, because I know you told him you didn’t love him and stuff, and that’s why he left me. I mean…Scranton.”

What the hell? Pam felt the heat in her belly flare up again. He had turned her life upside down. Deserted her, and then told Michael everything? Her jaw tightened.

“…But we’re great friends. I mean, like back at Christmas, when he talked me off the ledge about Carol, ya know? He told me that my girlfriend at the time, that girl from Benihana? She was just a rebound, and all it would do is make me love Carol more.” He paused, deep in his thoughts. “Which is kinda strange, really. I mean, right after that, I hooked up with Jan, who I love way more than I could ever love Carol, so…” He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at Pam, who stared back dumb-founded.

She hadn’t really absorbed much of what he was saying, still focusing on the fact that Jim had apparently confided everything to this man.  Her cheeks flamed to the point that they matched her shirt.  Jim was over her, Jim was purposely being cold to her. Even on the rare occasion when he would turn to her, grinning from a prank he’d pulled on Dwight, it was on a limited basis. ‘We can have fun, but only so much. Come close, but stay at arm’s length.’

“Right, well,” Pam stated, rising from her chair. “I need to get back to work, Michael. So…” She motioned to the door, waiting politely for him to excuse her.

“Just one more thing,” he answered, standing and approaching her slowly. “Why does Jim have a black eye?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

When Jim had entered that morning, head down, determined not to look at her, or anyone, Pam had felt all eyes fall on her. As if she was the one who had dented his face. Despite the questioning looks each of them had been getting all morning, neither she nor Jim had explained what had happened the other night.

She bit her lip, trying to decide how much information to impart to him.

“Because he knew my favorite flavor of yogurt.” She responded simply, leaving the office. Her eyes immediately fell on Karen’s desk, where Jim was hovering unsurely. Karen looked passive, even ignorant. What was going on? When Karen saw her, her expression grew harder, earning Pam a glance from Jim. Upon realizing what he was looking at, his face became full of pointed disinterest. She moved toward her desk, to lose herself in the morning faxes, when she ran face first into someone. Strong hands landed on her arms, stilling her. Instantly, they dropped when she realized with whom she’d collided.

“Hey,” Roy said softly, gruffly.

“Hi,” she answered, even softer. Unthinkingly, she glanced over toward Jim and Karen. Karen stared on, attention rapt, while Jim was suddenly transfixed with his own fingernails. “What’s up?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’m here to pick up my last pay check, actually.” This definitely got her attention.

“What?” Pam asked, her eyes widening. Several people looked up.

“Yeah. Daryl’s cousin works in the warehouse at Best Buy and says he can get me a job there.” He kept his voice low, knowing full well that the attention of everyone was on them by now. Well, almost everyone. Jim stood fully, walking toward his desk.

“Wow.” She could think of nothing more to say. It saddened Pam to realize she really didn’t even care what this man she’s shared her life with was going to do.

“Yeah, I just think…” he trailed off, looking at his feet. “So,” he gestured toward Michael’s office, indicating that he needed to talk to him.

“Well,” she replied, stepping aside. He didn’t give her a second glance before entering the office. She was left standing there, now suddenly face to face with Jim. He quickly glanced down at stalked toward the break room.

Saturday, after he had walked out of her apartment, Pam had stared at her painting for hours, focusing on the brush strokes, the angles, and the brightness of the hues she’d chosen. It was indeed the shape of a teapot, although not consciously painted that way. The only thing she could remember about actually creating the piece was the feeling of intense liberation, as if she was finally stripping herself bare, allowing her inner voice to scream. It was almost embarrassing to realize that after all that cathartic work, she was back at square one, pining after someone who was clearly not interested in her or anything related to her.

Squaring her shoulders and managing to deflect all the inquisitive looks she was currently receiving, Pam followed him into the break room. He glanced up from his cup of coffee when the door swung open, but put his head down and tried to make a break for it when he saw who had joined him. Pam, with quick reflexes, blocked the door silently. Rolling his eyes, Jim sat at the small table. Pam didn’t.

“What is your problem?” It was blunt, it was very unlike her. It felt great.

He must have known it was unlike her too, because he looked baffled. “What?” he sputtered.

“Would you stop this whole poor-me-put-upon-Death-Cab-angry-boy-pout fest you‘ve got going?” His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t speak. “You are so into acting like the only injured party here.”

“Um…” He pointed at his face, a bitter smirk barely concealing resentment.

“Yes, Roy hit you. Because I broke his heart, and he was hurt.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Jim looked up at her incredulously.

“So, Roy is the victim in this whole thing?” He stood now, his coffee forgotten. “The guy who treated you like garbage for ten years and stifled your creativity and personality at every turn?”

“You’re right,” she spit back. “Better the guy who apparently pretended to be my friend, but left the state when I really needed him.” She looked up at the ceiling, knowing she had to say this, but wishing he didn’t have to be here to hear it.

“Needed me to what? Be a support system through your wedding to that bonehead?” His voice was louder now than he probably intended for it to be, what with their co-workers, including his girlfriend, only twenty feet away.

All the anger she’d been feeling, the sense of abandonment he’d instilled in her, came bubbling up in her chest. “My best friend tells me he loves me, and then when I don’t have the…the strength to shed my entire life to better suit him, he leaves me in a lurch, only to come back six months later with a new girlfriend, which begs the question,” she paused, steeling herself. “… did he ever really feel it in the first place?”

This one seems to really get him, and Pam regrets it instantly, watching the pain fill his face. “You…you doubt…?” He shakes his head and looks away.

“I’m not…” Suddenly, her conversation with Michael played back through her head. ‘I don’t think that he still loves you, I know you told him you didn’t love him and that’s why he left.’ He thought she didn’t love him. Even if he had moved on, he needed to know how she felt.

“I told Roy that I kissed you because I had feelings for you. Because I stupidly thought that if I could be honest with him, we could get past it all. I just…“ She paused, trying to find the right words. “ I just thought that if I could get the truth out once, I could start getting over you, the way you‘ve gotten over me.” She said it softly, almost hoping he didn’t hear it, as her voice gave away the intense grief she was feeling better than her words. Unfortunately for Pam, he did, his green eyes finding hers. He swallowed hard. “Turns out, that’s not really a option.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Yes, you got hurt, because instead of sticking around to see if this whole thing could end well, you disappeared. But in the process, some other people got hurt too, Jim.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Oscar and Kevin, walking through on their way to the vending machine.

“Are we interrupting something?” Kevin asked, a snigger in his voice.

“Nope.” Jim said flatly, sitting once again and taking a sip of his now luke-warm coffee.

“New shirt, Pam?” Oscar asked kindly, diffusing the tension as well as he could.

“Yeah.” She could only manage a half-hearted watery smile.

“It looks nice, red is a good color on you.”

They continued through. Whatever Jim had been about to say was long in the past, as he was now completely enamored with the formica top of the table. Pam watched him for several long moments. Finally, she turned to leave, pausing to tell him one last thing, all the honesty she had in her spilling out in one last heart-breaking confession.

“I just didn’t realize your love came with an expiration date.”