So where should I even begin? Should I start when I first noticed his presence? Well, that would be going all the way back to when I was a kid and my mom would play his records on the weekends to make housework go faster. It didn't quite do it for me, but she certainly had an appreciation for Barry White. She still does, if I'm not mistaken. I'm pretty sure my dad bought her his complete DVD collection a few Christmases or so ago. Dammit, I'm already getting off on a stupid tangent here.

Okay, the whole thing really started the day before the job interview, when Karen suggested we drive down early to spend the night in the city. She wanted to quit work right around lunchtime, and I agreed because I couldn't see any reason not to. Not any good reason, anyway. I already had plenty of mixed feelings about everything that was going on at that time, from the thought of changing jobs to my very relationship with her. Ever since that night at the beach when Pam said all those things in front of everyone, I just didn't know what to think. Or what I should think. Or what I should do. So as usual, I just agreed and went along. Karen seemed to know what she wanted, so falling in line just made it easier.

I did feel a bit anxious about leaving so early, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't know why. Deep down a part of me was hoping Pam was going to say something. Say what exactly is unclear even now. Ask me not to leave, I guess. Something. I know it wasn't logical; I hadn't said much to her since her big confession at the beach, and honestly, how much more could I expect her to say? She'd already made it pretty damn clear how she felt. The ball had been back in my court for nearly a week, and I knew that. But I guess I still was holding out that she'd be that brave a second time. When Karen and I finally did leave, Pam smiled and said good luck. I couldn't help but hope that she didn't really mean it.

So that was my mindset as I drove us to New York. Karen was excited and cheerful, and her conversation managed to lighten my mood a bit despite myself. I felt some of the stress leaving me the farther we got from Scranton, but at the same time I couldn't completely escape the anxiety that was still sitting in the pit of my stomach. I remember turning the radio on about halfway into our journey, and we spent a few good minutes trying to find a station we could both agree on. I kept hitting the seek button on the steering wheel, often cutting off songs just a few notes in, much to Karen's dismay. I paused at one point to a vaguely familiar symphonic sound. Disco, I scoffed silently, and hit seek again.

"Wait!" Karen protested, reaching forward to turn the knob with her hand. "I love that song!"

"You don't even know what it is", I teased.

"It's Barry White, dummy", she retorted.

And sure enough it was. Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe, to be exact. No wonder it sounded familiar to me. Karen started singing along, and although I knew the words by heart I kept silent. It was with more than a little guilt that I realized the lyrics weren't reminding me of the girl sitting next to me, the girl I had been dating for over six months now. No, as usual I could only picture the one I'd left back in Scranton. They like to claim that 'words will never hurt you,' but I beg to differ. The lyrics held a mocking tone I knew only I was hearing, but it was uncomfortable all the same.

I wondered if there was ever going to be a time when I wouldn't connect everything to Pam, and I felt frustrated by the answer I already knew. I didn't pay much attention to the radio after that. If Karen noticed, she didn't say, but maybe she was just happy that she didn't have to fight me for her music choices.

We were next in line for the toll at the George Washington Bridge when Karen gasped and grabbed my arm." Oh my God, Jim, look at the guy in the booth!"

I looked up and then back at her, not sure what was wrong. "What?"

"That guy looks just like Barry White!" She exclaimed. "That's just freaky."

As we pulled up to the window I took another look at the guy, and could see some resemblance. Maybe. I gave him a ten and waited while he gathered my change. He was handing me the money when he looked me right in th eye and said something completely unexpected.

"It's not too late to turn around", he said.

I know I must have looked surprised because he chuckled a bit. The car behind me beeped impatiently and I pulled away, wondering what in the hell had just happened.

"Did you hear what he said to me?" I asked Karen.

"No, what did he say?"

"He said it wasn't too late to turn around."

Karen made a face. "Are you sure you heard him right?"

"Well, that's certainly what it sounded like."

She shrugged. "He was probably just messing with you. Or he's crazy. This is New York - both are equally possible."

Soon I was too busy negotiating New York traffic to think much about it. We made to the hotel, checked in, and by the time I'd finished changing out of my suit and into real clothes, Karen was pulling me back out the door. "There's so much to do out there, Halpert", she said. "We'll have plenty of hotel time later."

I laughed off her innuendo and followed her out. The way I was feeling, being alone with her in the hotel room was the last thing I wanted. Better to be distracted by the chaos that is New York City. I was glad Karen already had some plans in mind, because tagging along without needing to make any decisions was about all I felt up to. Looking back, I guess that would come as a surprise to pretty much no one. I still wonder what Karen ever saw in me, to be honest. Unfortunately I bet she does, too.

Anyway, we were walking out of the hotel when Karen's phone rang. She motioned for me to stop, then stepped over to the side of the building to answer the call. I stood under the awning and watched the traffic and people go by, and wondered briefly what Pam was doing at that moment. She'd still be at work, and I hoped Michael was not making things more difficult than usual. My thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice just behind me.

"You know what I can't believe? That you are really thinking of leaving her again."

I turned around, more than a bit startled. I thought that perhaps I'd just overheard some bit of conversation that ironically fit into my life a little too well when I saw him. Again. It had been the doorman who spoke, and he looked exactly like the guy at the toll booth - in other words he looked just like Barry White.

"I'm sorry?" Was about all I could manage to say.

"You should be." He frowned and shook his head. "How much clearer does that girl have to be?"

I felt Karen's hand on my arm and turned back to face her." Okay, I'm ready", she smiled. "That was Kyra. We might meet up with her later tonight."

I nodded and looked back at Barry White. (Well, the Barry White lookalike. Or whoever he was. I guess from this point I'll just give in and call him Barry White. My ambivalence on his actual identity is clear enough.) He was no longer under the awning, but helping an elderly couple into a cab. So much for any further discussion. I walked away with Karen, more than a bit disconcerted by his apparent knowledge about my life.

If I had been in a better state of mind, our evening in New York would have been completely enjoyable. We went to a great little restaurant in the village for dinner, where Karen knew exactly what to order and it was delicious. It was Karen's idea to sneak into the second act of Spamalot, and to stop at a bar that used to be a church. I couldn't stop wishing Pam could see the architecture of that place. I knew she really would have loved it. Is it wrong to feel the need to mention that Karen didn't even seem aware of it? I guess maybe she'd been there often enough to not notice anymore.

I tried to keep up my end of the conversation, but the interaction with the doorman kept coming back to me, and I know that Karen picked up on my distraction. She started talking about what we would do when one of us got the job at corporate, and she said she'd move down with me if I was hired. When she asked if I would move for her, the words stuck in my throat. I knew what she wanted to hear, but I couldn't say it. I just couldn't. She saw my hesitation and lept into the territory we'd long been avoiding.

"I'm not stupid, I was at the beach", she said. "We don't have a future in Scranton. There's one too many people there."

As usual, my defense was humor. "You mean Kevin?"

"Exactly." She made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but her eyes were serious. "No, but you get it, right? We can't stay there."

I was uncomfortable by her confrontation for so many reasons, the least of which was feeling that the middle of a crowded street was the wrong place for such a discussion. The fact that I knew the documentary crew was following us around didn't help much either.

"Yeah, I do", I finally managed to reply, hoping that although it was an entirely vague answer, it would be enough for now. Fortunately, it seemed to be, and we headed off to her next planned stop with no more words on the matter.

It was open mic night at the last bar we stopped at. Well, it was less a bar and perhaps more of a coffeehouse, and the patrons seemed like extras from every New York hipster movie scene ever made. Of course I thought of Pam, and wondered what comments she would be making at the sight of some of these people. I did my best to push the idea out of my mind, and try to focus on Karen. She deserved that much.

Before long we were joined by her friend Kyra, and a few other women Karen seemed to know. She introduced me, but I couldn't make out any of the names over the noise. I just nodded and smiled and drank my cappuccino, which had been delivered in the largest mug I'd ever seen. I almost took a photo of it with my phone, it was so ridiculously big. At least I had something to nurse as Karen turned her attention to her friends.

The parade of people up at the microphone were all reasonably good; I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't karaoke at Poor Richard's after all. Karen and her friends seemed to be enjoying it too, but that might have been due to the fact that they were experimenting with various flavors of martinis. They started off with apple, then progressed quickly through raspberry, cherry, and (I think) pomegranate. I was kind of surprised since I couldn't remember ever seeing Karen drink like that. But she was obviously having a good time, and I couldn't begrudge her that. I could see she really was in her element. I just wished I'd felt more comfortable.

Toward the end of the evening (Who am I kidding? It was well after midnight by this point so morning is a more accurate description), a guy took the stage and I nearly choked on the last of my coffee. Yeah, you already know what I'm going to say. It was Barry White. Despite the familiar deep voice, no one else seemed to recognize him. He must have been the emcee or something for the night, because he thanked everyone for being there and for the entertainers that evening. Then he looked directly at me, and things got even more surreal.

"I know I said I wasn't going to sing tonight, but I've changed my mind", he said, which resulted in enthusiastic applause. "Listening to all of you tonight, I can't help but think about how people waste so much time denying what makes them really happy. This world is full of people who just let love walk right by them, because they're too afraid to fight for it, or too afraid to be hurt. Nothing's worth fighting for more than love."

The audience seemed to agree with him, as evidenced by yet more applause and cheers. He had kept his gaze on me the entire time he spoke, and despite the fact I could feel myself flushing, I found it nearly impossible to look away. I glanced quickly over at Karen, who seemed oblivious to the fact that Barry White was talking right to me. The song he sang, of course, was another Barry White hit, and the words were again mocking me.

The room was starting to feel too hot to me, and by the time Barry was over I was relieved that Karen agreed it was probably time to go back to the hotel. We opted to take a cab back because Karen was clearly a bit past tipsy, and tired on top of that. We had barely climbed into the back seat when her head dropped down against my shoulder.

"Man, tomorrow's going to come early," she giggled.

"It's going to arrive at its usual time," I teased. "But somehow I've got a feeling you are still going to be surprised."

She giggled again, but said nothing. She hooked her arm through mine, and I gave her a light kiss on the top of her head. I couldn't help but feel affection towards her, because of how vulnerable she seemed at that moment. I felt like she actually needed me, and it was one of only a handful of times I could remember feeling that way. Maybe if she'd actually needed me more, things could have been different. I don't know - probably not. Too much was already predetermined before I even met her, I think. And I'm starting to ramble again, anyway.

Karen feel asleep almost immediately, and I stared out the window as we made our way to the hotel, the streets still surprisingly busy given the time. I remember feeling guilty and lost and wondering what the world I was doing there. Did I honestly see myself living there? I just didn't know.

"You don't belong here." The driver's voice was clear and emphatic, and by this point only too familiar. At this point I wasn't even surprised that Barry White was driving our taxi cab.

"Why are you following me?" I asked plainly.

"Because nothing else seems to be working," he replied.

"What does that even mean?"

"That running away you did last year," Barry said, ignoring my question. "How did that work out for you? You manage to put her out of your life that way?"

I stared at the back of his head. "How do you know any of this?"

"It's written all over you, man. You are walking misery."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. "That's good to hear."

"Please, you already know that. I mean," Barry glanced at me via the rear view mirror. "you would know that if you paid any attention to your real feelings."

"Yes, listening to my 'real' feelings worked so well in the past," I replied. I have to admit Mister Barry White was starting to piss me off by this point. "But I suppose you are the master of feelings. The Guru of Love."

"I know what's important," Barry shrugged. "And I have a soft spot for the really misguided cases."

"Is misguided a nice way of saying pathetic?"

He laughed loudly then, so loudly that Karen stirred a bit, but thankfully didn't wake up. I don't know why I didn't want her to wake up - it would have been nice to have someone else witness my interaction with Barry White.

"I suppose it is," he chuckled. "I suppose it is."

"Thanks", I sighed. "At least you're honest. That's always an admirable trait in a dead celebrity."

We stopped at a red light and Barry turned around to look at me. "So why are you here, Jim?"

He knew my name. Of course he knew my name. I looked back out the window, unable to meet his stare. "I'm just trying to be happy," I finally said.

He faced forward and continued driving. "You already know what you need to be happy. Or, more accurately, who you need. And she ain't here."

Suddenly we were in front of our hotel, though moments earlier we'd seemed much farther away. By the time I'd roused Karen and got us both out of the cab, the driver no longer was Barry White. I wasn't even surprised by this point. I just wanted it to stop.

But somehow I knew it wasn't nearly over.