Chapter 1 

Jim lay in the back of Karen’s SUV reeking of sweat and alcohol.  He had tried to make conversation with her for the first few minutes of the drive, tried to play off exactly how drunk he really was, but as it turned out he really needed to concentrate on not throwing up in the back of her car.  So he lay on his back, his legs folded up uncomfortably against the door, hoping against hope that they would get to his apartment soon.  Or that the slight swaying in the back of her car would help him pass out and maybe he could sleep an entire night through without waking up to nightmares of her.

He had to give it to Andy.  After all the years with Michael Scott, this was officially the first time he had ever left the office completely hammered.  He had to admit that he was glad for the company for a change.  Even if it was Yaeger, and Andy, and the Indigo Girls, for once he wasn’t drinking alone.  And then there was Karen. 

Karen.  He turned her name over in his head trying to get used to two syllables and to a different set of vowels and consonants.  She smiled at him in such a sweet but careful way that sometimes he found himself wondering more about her.  What she was like outside of the office?  What she would look like in normal clothes instead of suits?  Did she ever wear her hair up?  Would she stay in a dead end relationship with a man that never truly loved her?  It never lasted.  His thoughts were always inevitably drawn back to Scranton and Pam.  But he was grateful whenever his mind would allow him to think of Karen, to think of possibility instead of pain.  Even if he was just distracting himself, and he knew it, he could pretend for a minute that his heart wasn’t broken.

“Halpert.”  Her voice was insistent and broke through his drunken haze.  “Halpert…are you passed out in my car?”  She was giggling at him and he tried to make a note to give her a hard time about making fun of the dying.

“Not exactly passed out, just resting my eyes.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to sober up enough to walk up three flights of stairs. 

“Okay.  We’re here.  Do you need help up the stairs?”

“Nope,”  he sat up and started to realize that he hadn’t peaked yet on drunkenness and he really did need to get upstairs before he further humiliated himself.  “I got it.”

He practically fell out of the car and shut the door unsteadily.  Leaning up against her door he ducked his head so he could see her better, “Thanks for the ride.  I would never have made it.”

“No kidding.” 

“Would you mind if I just got my bike tomorrow?”

“No problem.  Anyway, I’d hate for you to get a crazy idea in the middle of the night and drunk peddle to the waffle house or something.”  She laughed and he felt a little better seeing that she could joke with him.  Maybe she could be fun outside of the office.  “Are you sure that you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” he tried to lose himself in her smile for a moment, but all he could really think about were curls and cardigans.  He wished she were here to see that other women liked him so that she would know that she had missed out.  “I’m just gonna go…Night.” 

Karen watched him walk around the back of the car, “Call me if you need anything Halpert.”

He waved at her back window, facing his stairs and pondering on sleeping in the bushes.  He figured that he didn’t want the reputation with his neighbors that he regularly passed out outside so he grabbed the railing and started to climb.  It felt like hours until he managed to open the door and stumble to his couch, falling face first into the cushions.  He just wanted to sleep but his mind wouldn’t let up.  Even pickled in alcohol, he wondered where she was.  He thought about how much he wished that she were with him, that she had been the one to pick him up at work and bring him home.  That she was putting water and aspirin in front of him, telling him to drink. 

He got up and threw a pillow across the room.  He hated being this guy.  He hated crying into his beer.  He hated isolating himself because the heartbreak was too close to the surface, too easy to see, too humiliating.  Any normal guy would have asked Karen out a while ago and then he wouldn’t have to be alone.  He knew easily ten guys that had been dumped in the last year, full on dumped by women they were actually dating, and none of them were sulking like this.  They went out.  They met women – vapid shallow women, but women nonetheless. 

He shuffled into the kitchen and got water, searching the counter for the aspirin he knew he had yesterday.  Finally finding the pill bottle conveniently located next to a water glass from yesterday, he poured out three and filled up the old glass with water, tearing off his tie and putting it on the breakfast bar with all his other ties.    That was the beauty of living alone, no one cared if he left his stuff all over the house, left dishes unwashed in the sink, if the trash were approaching overflow levels.  It just didn’t matter.  The only person who lived here was him, if you could call it really living.

Pulling off his shirt, which he threw over an arm chair, he headed to bed, grateful that tomorrow was Friday.  He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he checked the clock.  11pm.  He figured it was either his mom wondering if he had made it through another day or it was Mark asking if he had gotten over Pam yet.  Either way, he really didn’t want to deal.  He reluctantly fished his phone out of his pocket and he flipped it open to see a text message from Karen:

He shook his head, smiling as he ran his hand through his hair.  She really was a nice person.  If he had met her three years ago, he probably wouldn’t be in this mess.  Maybe he would take her to lunch tomorrow to thank her for the lift. 

He started to shut the phone as his eyes caught an unexpected name on the text message list: Pam.  He blinked hard and shook his head thinking that the alcohol was making him imagine it.  Or maybe it was an old message, from before.  He sat down on the bed unsteadily and scrolled to her name, hitting select. 

He read it over and over.  He ignored the part about Michael, he would have to deal with that image tomorrow.  Tonight, he only wanted to know about why she wished he were there.  To laugh together about Michael?  To pal around with?  Because she missed him? 

He flopped back on the bed as the room spun around him.  They hadn’t talked since he accidentally called her the other day.  She didn’t call him back and he refused to be so desperate as to keep calling to chat.  At some point he had to save some little part of his dignity.  But it was so nice talking to her and she seemed to really enjoy talking to him too. 

His mind raced wondering if her texting him meant something.  In his impaired state, he decided that while calling was desperate, texting wouldn’t be too pathetic.  But he refused to make small talk: ask about Michael or the office or the weather.  He just wanted to know one thing and thankfully it was short enough that he could text it even as drunk as he was. 

His fingers clumsily typed out one word and hit send before his mind could catch up to his hands. 

 Why?