Jim comes into work and there are magazines all over Pam's desk. They're different options for bridesmaid dresses, which he knows because Kelly goes over and then spends half an hour discussing the merits of lavender versus seafoam. Three times he starts to look over to catch Pam's eye and make a face at the most Kelly parts, but he stops himself in time. Instead he looks at his screen, opening and closing the folders on his desktop, drawing pointless boxes with the mouse to highlight and unhighlight them.
When he does glance over, she's not looking at him anyway.
Jim leaves two voicemail messages for clients ("Hi, this is Jim Halpert at Dunder Mifflin, just calling to see how you guys are getting along ...") and listens to Pam talk to her mom on the phone about who should sit where at the reception. The Wilsons have been bumped from table three to table four again. Beside him, Dwight is doing something wretched involving color coding his Post-It notes. Jim looks over and then back at his own desk.
He's in the break room eating his sandwich and staring at the rusty corner of the refrigerator when Phyllis comes in. She takes a jar of mayonnaise out of the fridge and starts cranking open a can of tuna. He watches her hands and chews and swallows.
Pam comes in and opens the cabinet to rummage for a tea bag.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey," he says.
"Oh, Pam!" says Phyllis, looking over. "I've been meaning to ask, do you know where you're going on your honeymoon yet? Because Bob's sister has this bed and breakfast up in Maine ..."
"Oh, really?" says Pam. "If Roy can get the time off, we want to go somewhere within driving distance. But, I mean, is it on the ocean?"
One of the cameras is in Michael's office with him and the other one is watching Oscar and Angela argue in the far corner. Jim stands up, throws his balled-up napkin in the trash without pausing, and walks out.
"Toby," he says, and it comes out louder than he intended. "Can I talk to you?"
They both hear the sound of Kelly's typing stop on the other side of the divider, and Toby looks up at him with weary eyes.
"Sure," he says. "Do you want to go in the conference room?"
***
Maybe someday Jim will learn that talking to anyone at work -- hell, talking to anyone who even *knows* Michael -- will always result in him getting screwed. Today was the worst.
He left early, right after the pictures, because he couldn't deal with everyone glaring at each other, with any of this weird, messed-up day, Dwight and the pranks and Pam and his whole damn life. And now he's in the parking lot around the side of the building, dialing Jan's number on his cell phone, hoping to catch her before five. He can't let himself think about this too much. Or maybe that's what got him here in the first place.
When he hangs up, he lets his head fall back against the cement of the building. It's warm enough now that he didn't wear a coat today, but the air is still chilly.
He's so tired and everything's happening so fast.
The door to the building bangs closed, and after a moment he can see Roy and Pam, backs toward him, walking to Roy's truck. She has her coat wrapped tightly around her, and he can tell exactly how angry she is by the set of her shoulders. He wishes he couldn't. He wishes he didn't know that, or that she always eats the red M&Ms last, or that Roy wasn't joking at all when he told Jim he didn't care if she talks to him all day, because it makes things that much easier for Roy when he takes her home at night.
He can't think about this anymore. He has an interview in the morning. He stays still and watches them climb in the truck and slam the doors and drive away.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Set during/around Conflict Resolution. Title courtesy of the Talking Heads.
If you think these characters are mine, you're a moron.
kyrafic is the author of 8 other stories.
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