She has always known that there was something, someone, that he wasn't telling her about - probably the kind of something that had long legs and big blond (highlighted) curls. She hasn't ever brought it up: somehow, she knows better, but she has several theories about who and what had happened to him. She is sure of one thing: the last woman he loved did not love him back.
She knows that she's not a bad catch, in her own right. She's smart, she's attractive, and she's willing to go after the things that are important to her. She procrastinates the most important things, but only long enough to be sure sure; she's always told herself that she's just scrupulous, and being thoughtfully careful has never been a bad thing.
Her favorite thing about him is the gentlemanly quality you rarely see in men younger than 70, these days. He's interested in what she has to say and never, ever makes her feel like he's only pretending to care, to listen, and when she gets to a punchline, he looks like he might die if she doesn't just spit it out, already. She likes the attention, she needs the attention, and she thinks that maybe he needs her just as much as she's starting to need him. He's playful and animated, quippy and sexy, and always, always just a little bit dark.
She's ready to move faster - not fast, but faster. If this is just a flirtatious friendship, then she needs to know because she is falling fast and he hasn't even kissed her, yet. So, after spending the last three Friday nights out together (this being their fourth), without any move on his part, she decides it's time to take the reins. In her mind, this means that she's going to kiss him sometime between their "hello"s and their "goodnight"s. Later on that night, while they're sitting in the crowded theater, she reaches for his hand and holds it in her lap and he doesn't pull away. Maybe her decision is coming off her in waves, or maybe he's realized it's time to see what her lip gloss tastes like, but in any case, he stops walking halfway across the parking lot, between the movie theater and his Toyota, and pulls her into him, one hand still clasped with hers, the other on the back of her neck. She smiles against his lips and knows that things are moving in the right direction.
She loves that Friday nights have turned into Friday and Saturday nights (an unspoken agreement) and even though things are moving painfully slow, she thinks that that's for the best. No need to rush. He kisses her in a way that makes her feel like someone else, like she's just... more than herself, and she's not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, but it always feels perfect. She is curious as to why he never lingers at her apartment, though he always walks her to her door and kisses her deep and hard, leaving her breathless. She has invited him in a few times, but he always politely declines and says it's probably not the best idea, yet. She likes that he says "yet".
She knows that she can make him happy.
-----
She thinks that maybe his mysterious heart-breaker is the kind of woman that was used words like "eleemosynary" and "putsch". She thinks it's silly because she knows she's smart, in her own right, but she needs him to know it. So she starts using the full expanse of her vocabulary and she likes when she uses a word that doesn't register with him and how he always makes some kind of joke about how he only reads books with "Fabio" on the cover, not the dictionary, like her, but in the end he always asks her what the word means, "No, seriously, Fillipelli, I need to know." She realizes that it's silly and very insecure of her to want to puff up and seem smarter, but at the same time, she starting to feel smarter, so eventually the feeling of silliness fades.
They are on their way into a bookstore and she's being guided through a thick coterie of book club members that have gathered outside, when she realizes that he never interlocks their fingers when he holds her hand. It's always her fingers between his index finger and thumb, her thumb circling around his. It feels like a thick barrier, suddenly, and when she tries to tangle her fingers with his, he pulls his hand away and places it on the small of her back, instead. She hopes she's just making something out of nothing, but deep down, she places it in the same file with his never having been inside her apartment and his being adamant about people at work not knowing they were dating - it's just another brick in the wall around him.
She feels her heart break when he tells her that she should go to New York, that considering Scranton is crazy; when he recants, she knows that going to Scranton is just the push they need. He looks upset and she asks him why and all he offers is that he hates moving and he was just starting to like Stamford. She tells him she thinks it's more than that, and when she asks him if she's right, he simply answers, "Yes."
She tells the cameras that she doesn't think he's into her (even though she knows better), but when it comes time for her to say she doesn't like him back, well, she just can't pull off a lie that big. So she spills it to the camera guy and hopes that it doesn't make the final cut.
She thinks that she can make him happy.
-----
She wonders if the dumb ass that broke his heart was the the type to follow that stupid diet where you don't eat foods that have been heated above 120 degrees, or something ridiculous like that. Making this woman out to be outwardly smart confident and beautiful, inwardly shallow and self-absorbed, unable to really see him, helps her in some small way, to feel smarter about clichéd female issues; therefore, she feels smarter all-around. Maybe she tricked him into thinking she was the right one for him, but then her inside tainted her outside, and he was smart enough to move on.
She doesn't hate Scranton, but she knew she wouldn't. She is happy and wants him to be happy, too, and she figures that being home and around his family will help. After a week at her new desk, she's learned something about him that she didn't know before: he isn't as nice to everyone as she thought he was. It's not that he's not nice, he's just not as nice. She feels bad for that receptionist that he is a little short with, and for Michael on the days when he's done something particularly irritating and Jim isn't able to suppress his annoyance (or is it resentment?) - doesn't matter. He's always kind and accommodating with her, and she can't fault him for his not liking everyone.
For the first time in two months, they don't spend Friday or Saturday night together. They both have a lot of settling in to do; he promises to show her the city next weekend. She could use a little time to herself, she tells herself (a few times too many).
She walks in on Monday morning and is surprised to see him resting on his elbows at the reception desk, laughing in a way that she doesn't recognize. He high-fives her after she hangs her coat and Pam, the receptionist, compliments her blouse. She feels relieved and thinks maybe he was just still getting settled, and the coolness she felt last week between him and the receptionist wasn't anything at all. After lunch, she catches him in the break room and reaches for his hand; he reaches back, squeezing her hand as she leans in for a kiss. He lifts his head and says, "Not here. Not at work." It's hard to take and she reels back on her heels and her eyes get a little glassy, and he looks panicked at the thought of hurting her and whispers, "Friday, ok? I'm sorry, I'm just not ready for these people to find out about us. Dwight and Andy - need I say more?" His eyebrows are asking the question and she giggles; she gets it. He reaches up and runs his thumb along her jaw before turning and walking out the door. The ache in her throat subsides.
She's excited all day on Friday, she just can't help it. After being praised by Angela for having a "positive attitude in the workplace" she decides she deserves a treat (or a drink) and she's pretty sure there's a bag of Cherry Nibs in the vending machine (she's also sure there is no vodka in said machine). She sits down at the table and pours her licorice pieces out onto a paper towel, lining them up like little corn syrup soldiers. She wonders if tonight is the night when he'll say yes to her end-of-the-date invitation. She looks down and realizes she's spelled JIM with her candy and she smiles to herself - how very high school. She pops the pieces that form the "I" in her mouth just as Pam walks in. She doesn't know anything about Pam, really, except that her mom knits a helluva sweater and she draws, a lot. They exchange quick pleasantries and Pam heads back out the door.
Her doorbell chimes at exactly seven and she's glad she took the time for a quick shower before her date because she's made another decision: he's definitely coming in tonight.
She is in the mood for Italian, and he only knows one place that serves decent fettuccine, so they end up at Cuggino's. Really, she doesn't care, she just likes being with him, but he is so distracted by his napkin and straw that she actually asks if he's, "feeling nervous about the obligatory sex they're about to have." She meant it as a joke, and he has to know that, really, but his reaction is a false grin and uncomfortable shifting. When he drops her off, he kisses her cheek and doesn't walk her to her door. They don't get together on Saturday night.
She wonders if she can make him happy.
-----
It's another Monday and she's tired of caring about who this woman that destroyed him is, because she's not willing to let him destroy her. She's decided, after one very luke-warm month in Scranton, that she is too smart, too strong, too independent to be strung along. She hopes she's making the right decision and hopes she'll be able to let him down easily on Friday night.
She wavers a little on Wednesday when he smiles his smile at her and her knees weaken, but only for a minute. A while later, when they're all standing together in a circle in the conference room, holding hands and playing along with this week's pointless "team building exercise", she sees it. She's holding hands with Creed and Stanley, he's between Phyllis and Pam. It's so small, but it's been in her file for a while now, and now she's having one of those moments where you see the past and the future all at the same time. His hand is cupped with Phyllis's, but on his left, his fingers are intertwined tightly with Pam's. For a full minute, he looks happy. That is, until he smiles at her and her eyes glass over and shift down to his hand being so intimate with someone that isn't her. Realization washes over his face and his mouth makes an "oh" without the sound, and he raises his eyebrows in a way that shows he's trying to pretend that this isn't what it really is. She just shrugs her shoulders, smiles sadly at him, and avoids his eyes for the rest of the day.
On her way to her car that night, he stops her and wants to talk. She doesn't want to stop and she really doesn't want to talk, so she doesn't. He apologizes to the back of her head and she waves him off and says that she was going to dump him on Friday anyway, so it's ok. She gets in her car and closes her door and takes a deep breath before sliding the key into the ignition; strong, smart, independent. It's then that he knocks; she doesn't want to respond, but she rolls down her window, anyway. He starts to talk and she doesn't need to know anything that he's saying, so she tells him to stop talking before she asks, "Has it always been her?"
This time, it's his eyes that glass over and he's nodding and now she knows, so she takes another breath and asks, "Is she going to hurt you again?" His eyes dart up and his forehead scrunches up and he's really looking at her for the first time in weeks. He pulls up one side of his mouth and shrugs, but if she's really being honest with herself: he looks hopeful.
"Does she love you back?" Something in the depths of his eyes expands and she can't feel the darkness anymore. He nods and she sighs and says, "Good. Be happy, for fuck's sake." He looks surprised at what she's said, but they both know that it is what it is. So she nods at him and then pulls away and at least she knows now.
She wonders if he wants to be happy.
-----
She admits to herself that she's shocked that the receptionist is the one that has been wielding all of this power over him. She never would have guessed it, really, because Pam isn't any of the things that she expected his heart-breaker to be. She sure as hell didn't expect Pam to be the one that would pull him out of his darkness, but here they are, and it's clearly the case.
She has decided to leave, and really, it has nothing to do with him. Scranton just isn't where you go to move up in the world, and after 3 months of watching people at a standstill, she just can't take any more. It has nothing to do with Michael's lack of personal skills, and it has nothing to do with Creed asking her for her panties. It has nothing to do with Dwight's total power over the band aids and nothing to do with walking in (after hours) on Jim and Pam going at it on the couch next to reception. She just really needs a change.
She knows that Pam makes him happy, and she just doesn't care anymore.
