Jim was uncharacteristically late to work that morning. Came in looking like hell: unshaven, eyes bleary from lack of sleep, tie askew before nine in the morning.

‘Are you…okay?’ Pam asked almost involuntarily, when he came through the door.

His response was a quick nod, barely glancing her way as he passed her desk. He wasn’t in the mood for talking. Had spent half the damn night talking.

Pam had seen the box on Karen’s desk as soon as she’d arrived. On further inspection, she’d seen the note taped to its top, politely requesting that it be sent to her parents’ address in Connecticut. Seen the sealed envelope on Michael’s desk, his name printed in the tight angular handwriting she’d come to recognize as Karen’s.  One look at Jim and the pieces came together.

 ****************************  

In retrospect, he could pinpoint exactly when he knew.

‘Who's the target?’ Karen had asked, conspiratorially.

The harshness in that choice of words had made him squirm. It was unintentional, no doubt. But still. 

His instincts had blared flashing red lights. As he’d explained for the camera that very day, he knew Pam. And this would be all wrong. Blindsided, she’d reel. He could just imagine her pretending it was okay, playing the good sport. He’d recoiled at the thought of her vulnerability. Nothing had really changed at all.

Just a silly prank. The last trace of their equation. The computation was simple; but it only allowed for two variables. Despite his resolve, it was immutable. His own fucking Theory of Relativity. He laughed to himself, thinking this was the closest he would ever come to Einstein. He thought he’d have liked to tell Pam that. It would have made her smile.

He knew now that keeping his relationship with Karen secret wasn’t just about his innate sense of privacy. Though that made a good excuse. At the time, he’d been acutely aware of sparing Pam the pain of knowing; looking back, of course she’d already figured it out.  What he’d come to realize was that he’d also wanted to save Karen embarrassment over the inevitable.

It was going to fall apart. Everything depends on everything. They had never stood a chance.

*****************************

Jim sat at his desk silently working on reports, never looking up. Pam took the cue and kept her distance. She wanted to say something to him, but her tongue was lead. Acting like his friend had become an ever-trickier business.

When Jim left for a meeting, Pam was almost relieved. He was gone for hours, much longer than the meeting should have required. He didn’t return until well past five. Without thinking why, she’d stayed. Waiting. By the time he walked back through the door, she was the only one left in the office.

He stopped and stared, clearly surprised to see her still there.

‘Long meeting,’ Pam blurted, feeling lame.

‘No actually, the meeting ended a long time ago. I was just…. driving around for a while,’ he replied, looking down at the floor and tensely running his fingers through his already tortured hair.

 ‘Karen’s gone,’ Pam finally said, after a long pause. She’d meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement.

‘Yeah.’

‘Why did she leave?’ She knew she was transgressing the line they’d tiptoed around since Jim’s return.

‘She said she had no future here,’ Jim said quietly, looking back up at her. ‘And…I could hardly argue.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

 He just shrugged slightly and looked miserably away again. She wasn’t sure if she felt brave or just had nothing left to lose.

‘Do you have a future here?’ She heard herself ask.

He looked back at her wearily.

‘You tell me.'

Pam didn’t say another word. Just stood up, walked around the desk and reached for him. Finally, reached for him. Put her arms around his waist and pulled him to her, best she could. For an excruciating moment, he didn’t react; misinterpretation reared its head and began to sink its teeth into her heart. Then suddenly, his arms were around her too. His face was buried in her hair, his hands holding her so close that she almost lost her balance. But he was big and solid and steadying. He was Jim again: an inevitable fact of her life. She leaned back just enough to search his face. His expression was quizzical, but a smile - the one she hadn't seen for a very long time - was beginning to form. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Hard and long and deep. His question, the question, was finally answered.

‘I guess I am Einstein,’ he said.

For once, she had no idea what he was talking about. She smiled back at him anyway.