There are some truths that Toby doesn’t understand. That he won’t ever understand. Michael’s near-constant disgust with him. The fact that his wife left him for Ted, the neighbor who borrowed their snow-blower each winter. How some people eat asparagus for pleasure.
And there are other truths that Toby understands too well. Like the way youth lends you the illusion of immortality and invincibility, and time gradually chips away at both, too slowly for you to notice. This is a truth that Toby knows, that he’s lived, and he would give anything to be able to rewind a decade or so of his life. Just far enough to find the point at which the grand façade of his future began to lose its promise of opportunity and possibilities. He misses the possibilities the most. The sense that his future was a blank slate waiting to be written on.
***
At night as Toby drifts from consciousness to sleep, he passes through the hazy space where dreams and reality are indistinguishable from one another. He thinks about the rent check that he’s forgotten to mail and watches as the envelope unfurls delicate paper wings and sails out the open window. He relives the moment from earlier in the day when Michael tries, again, to be funny at his expense, and laughs when Michael takes a step backward and falls into the blackhole that’s conveniently appeared where Dwight’s desk used to be.
Thankfully, Dunder-Mifflin only intrudes upon his thoughts for those few psychedelic minutes before sleep comes to claim him. When he’s well asleep and beyond the reach of irritating daily minutiae, Toby lives another life that never bears any resemblance to the one he’s made for himself in reality. In his dreams, his wife never leaves him for Ted and their relationship is full of the warmth and vibrancy that it held in the first few years out of college. They don’t fall out of love with one another. They don’t spend evening after evening going through the same routine, gradually losing interest in one another’s days, quietly becoming strangers living under the same roof. In his dreams, he notices the distance between them before it grows into canyons, and he stops, he listens, he loves. And they are happy. And Ted is miserable.
In his other life, Toby leaves the dead-end job that he settled for out of college just as soon as he makes enough money to move out of Scranton. Every night he escapes to someplace different, like the Catskills in New York or Lake Tahoe in Nevada. The other Toby always lives within spitting distance of a landmark that the real Toby’s never been to. He’s had this second life for years now, and he hasn’t yet dreamt of the same place twice.
Tonight, Toby dreams of Scranton. He’s in line for a cup of coffee at Starbucks and he senses the city immediately, without needing to look out the large glass windows at the front of the store. He takes his house blend from the barista, strangely off-balance, and thinks to himself that he must be awake, because surely he would never dream of Scranton.
“Toby? You done there?”
He turns around and sees Jim, dressed in grey slacks, a grey tie, and his standard button-down shirt that looks as though it’s been given a dose of Downy Wrinkle Releaser. Toby’s mouth opens and shuts, but no words come out, and he awkwardly moves aside to let Jim step up. “Grande house blend,” the barista announces, and Jim claims his coffee with a nod for the woman behind the counter.
“How’s work?” The words leave Toby’s mouth unbidden and somehow he knows that, despite being in Scranton and talking to Jim, he isn’t employed at Dunder-Mifflin anymore.
Jim shrugs. “Same. You know how it is. Michael’s been a bit fussy ever since you left. I don’t think he derives the same satisfaction from picking on Dwight.” They both start moving toward the door, and Jim throws Toby a curious look. “Why aren’t you in Sydney?”
Toby frowns, feeling anew the strange sense of being off-balance. “I’m… visiting,” he says briefly, perturbed by the question. Why isn’t he in Sydney?
“Don’t know why you would. If I moved to Sydney, I don’t think I’d ever come back.” They’ve reached the exit and Jim steps ahead to pull open the heavy glass door. It’s dark outside, and the sign for the bank across the street is flashing the date, the temperature, and the time. 6/11. 74°. 8:19pm.
Something clicks within Toby’s dream-addled brain and he grabs at Jim’s elbow, feeling an urgent need to prevent him from leaving the store. “Why aren’t you in Sydney?” he asks, as images of vacation paperwork come suddenly to mind.
“Michael’s swamped,” Jim says strangely, shaking his arm free. “Besides, Pam’s gone for her honeymoon, and Michael says that it’s HR policy that two employees can’t take vacation at the same time.”
None of this is making sense to Toby and he leans heavily against the door despite Jim’s growing irritation. “That’s not right,” he starts to explain, “you work in sales and Pam is the receptionist. Two different areas. You can’t take vacation at the same time as another employee in your area, but your situation is different.”
Jim’s expression darkens and he pulls Toby away from the door by the shoulders. Both of their coffees have disappeared. “Well, maybe if you were still around, you could have let me in on that little secret.” He glares at Toby and pulls open the door. “I’m going to work.”
“It’s after eight o’clock!” Toby watches in disbelief as Jim steps onto the sidewalk and begins to walk away. He steps outside to follow, but somehow Jim has made it to the end of the block. Even from this vantage point, Toby recognizes weariness in the other man’s shoulders.
A few feet from the corner, Jim turns around with his hands bunched in his pockets and his tie blown over one shoulder by the breeze. “I hate it,” he says calmly. Toby hears the words as though he is standing an arm’s length away. “I hate it, but it’s work. There’s always a reason to stay. But someday there will be another girl.”
Toby hears a familiar resignation in Jim’s voice and is so unsettled that he nearly misses the last few words. Suddenly they register and he looks puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘another girl’?”
Jim raises one eyebrow at Toby. “Another vacation. I said ‘someday there will be another vacation.’” He waits for a response, and when none comes Jim turns and walks around the corner without saying goodbye.
***
The next day at Dunder-Mifflin, Toby waits for Jim to take lunch in the break room and joins him at the table. Jim gives him a friendly smile and offers to trade half of his ham and cheese sandwich for half of Toby’s turkey and swiss. The two different halves fit together perfectly, and for a moment Toby looks at his patchwork lunch with an odd expression that looks so much like regret that Jim offers to give him back his turkey half. Toby laughs at that, a real gut-wrenching laugh, the kind he hasn’t had in months, and leans forward with his elbows on the table.
“Keep the turkey,” he says, “and in return, I want you to talk to me about possibilities.” He leans back in his chair and studies Jim’s confused expression with a small smile. For the first time in a long time at Dunder-Mifflin, he feels as though he has purpose.
There are some truths that Toby understands.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The idea for this fic was prompted by a discussion about Toby and Jim over on the Television Without Pity forum (kudos to Miss Kubelik for bringing up the topic).
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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