He tried to ignore the insistent drone of his cell phone while he walked to his car, his own words ringing in his head as he fumbled with the key fob, unlocking the doors: "Don't get me wrong, [it] can be [a] really fun distraction. But when it's over, you're left thinking about the girl you really like, the one that broke your heart."
It was Karen calling to find out what time he'd be coming over later, and right now, he just couldn't think about her. About them. About the realization that had struck him as he'd sat there on the couch next to Michael, intending to console him but hearing himself speak a truth he hadn't even dared to admit to himself before that moment.
He'd realized it when he'd glanced into the break room just in time to see her put her arms around Roy's neck, but he'd quickly turned away - out of habit, a knee-jerk reaction.
...Roy, who was forty pounds thinner, sporting a beard and a sensitivity that was all over his face, in his eyes that followed Pam everywhere. At one point during the Christmas party, Jim had made his way to the ice machine just outside their suite, and he'd turned to find Roy standing behind him, having just emerged from Vance Refridgeration, carrying a box bearing the same logo.
"Hey, Halpert..." Roy smiled at him, but Jim couldn't help but notice that it was one of those weary, disillusioned smiles that stop somewhere around the line of the nose, not making it up to the eyes.
"Hey." He found himself unable to look directly at Roy, because even though he knew that Roy had had a much bigger hand in the disintegration of his engagement to Pam than he himself had had, he still felt the guilt biting at him. And he damned sure didn't want Roy to bring it up - that was one of the downsides to having not faced or talked about all that had happened on Casino Night: He had no idea whether or not Roy knew, if Pam had told him anything, and if so how much.
Because the last time he'd seen Roy, Roy had said, "Keep an eye on her for me, will you?"
"Will do."
Within minutes he'd told her he was in love with her; she'd been in his arms not long after that.
Keep an eye on her for me.
The memory made it impossible to even exchange pleasantries with Roy; he'd offered up a lame excuse, then disappeared down a hallway off to the left, hoping Roy wouldn't follow him. And of course he didn't.
Jim leaned against the wall of Prater and Associates, having wandered toward their suite, his chest rising and falling as he thought: This doesn't have to matter anymore; everything has changed. I've moved on, and I'm not going backward. I'm starting over; I'd be a fool to fall back into it all again.
As soon as he'd come back into Dunder Mifflin's suite, the cameraman had asked him to do a talking head - and he'd found himself saying that he felt like this was his opportunity to start over. And he meant it, really - no more.
He should've known better.
Even as he'd stood over Pam's desk just as he had so many times before, he'd recognized it as an acquiescence on his part of what seemed to be inevitable; playing along with her prank was analogous to raising his arms in surrender, saying out loud, "It's over; you won. I'm yours - do whatever you want."
For those few long minutes when she'd looked up bus fares for Dwight, he'd felt himself sinking in such a visceral fashion that he'd actually looked down at his feet to ensure that they were indeed on steady ground. The carpet beneath him was the same as it had always been - and therein lay the problem.
...Or maybe the solution.
