Jim didn't sleep well Wednesday night. He kept having crazy dreams about Karen, or Pam, or some woman whose face changed from Karen's to Pam's and back again. When he woke on Thursday morning, it was in a fog of nervousness. Pam had given him time and space to decide if he wanted to try a relationship with her....or if he wanted to stay where he was, comfortable in a relationship with Karen. Karen. She was a known quantity. She really liked him...it probably wouldn't take long before she said she loved him. She was beautiful and smart and the perfect woman to stand at the side of a man on the rise.....
But.
But.....
She wasn't Pam.
This was the simple fact that he couldn't let go. And that one, simple fact led him to the next one, which, surprisingly, was more of an awkward shock to him.
Jim hadn't been himself for months. Since Pam's Art Show, this fact had seemed painfully clear. He felt like a stranger in his own body. The car was new, the suits were new, the shirts were starched, the haircut cost five times what it used to....and he was like an alien in his own skin.
He woke up Thursday morning, staring blankly at the photo of Karen that sat next to his alarm clock. She had given it to him a few weeks ago, already framed, the expectation for display clear.. He had been.....awkward about that. It seemed like a weird gift, and where was he supposed to display it? He settled for next to his bed, figuring she had a right to be on his mind there, if nowhere else. Now, several months later, he found himself envisioning his reaction if Pam were ever to give him a framed picture of herself. His immediate thought was that he would put it on his desk so that he could look at it all day. His second reaction was to laugh at himself. Why the hell would he put a photo on his desk when the person in the picture was just five feet away?
He showered. He dressed. And, as he sat on his bed to tie his shoes, he lifted Karen's picture, and looked at it He smiled with something like affection, but not much more. And then, he silently placed it face down in his nightstand drawer. He'd find a better place for it tomorrow. Some place that allowed him to sleep.
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Thursday morning was a different sort of confusion for Pam. She had told Michael yesterday that she would be spending the day "well, you know...." giving him just enough information to be confused, but not enough to pretend he understood. It was a craft she had perfected over years of life at the DM front lines. What to do with her day of playing hooky? This was the mystery. After Wednesday, she just knew that she needed to disappear for a day.
It had started off innocently enough. She was proud at how well she was holding it together this week. But this would be the day that really tested her.
Standing in the kitchen, she couldn't help but overhear. The vent to the conference room was wide open and Karen was in there, giving a Talking Head to the documentary crew.
"This cocktail party is such a great opportunity. It will give Jim a chance to show the people that matter that he isn't some loser like Michael. We both will have the chance to get out of lame-ass Scranton, Pennsyltucky." She laughed, and Phil, the interviewer, laughed right along with her. The bastard. If he hated it so much, why did he stick with this project for three years running? She shook it off, knowing full well that Phil was mostly trying to win Karen's confidence, to get her to talk more openly....But, still, she felt strangely protective. And, in a flash, she had a second realization.
Jim would be protective, too.
She had been there all week, silently willing him to make a move. It was time to pull back, to leave him with his decision. After hearing Karen's Talking Head, she had a hunch that she would be better served by silence for a day or two, because, when left to stand on her own, Karen would pale in comparison to the wonder of the Pam. This felt great at 4pm on Wednesday. At 2 am that night, not so much. Pam paced the floor, wondering if she was making a mistake. Was it really a good idea to lay low while Karen would be in her element at that stupid corporate party, in some sexy dress and surrounded by adoring fans? Could Mousey old Pam Beesley afford to hide away in the face of that? She tried to shake off those plaguing feelings of inadequacy, but they just wouldn't go. By 6 o'clock, she was up and dressed, and by 9 she had dressed and eaten and was in the waiting room at "Looking Good All Over," a day spa she passed on the way to work. By 10 her pedicure was finished. By 11 her hair had been cut. And, by noon, she was sound asleep on the massage table.
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When Jim arrived at work, he slid silently into his chair. Karen seemed to immediately appear at his side, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes questioning, always checking her status. Or, was that his imagination? He found it increasingly difficult to be sure of anything. She was talking about ...what? Oh, that damn party again. Couldn't she see that he didn't want to go? Why was she so excited? She wasn't even the one invited, if she had half a clue she'd be chalking this up as a favor to him, not an exciting romantic night on the town.
He regarded her dully. She was still talking, but he wasn't hearing. She sat, perched on the edge of his desk, chatting about her new dress or something. And yet, in his head, the repetitive drone of Pam's name grew louder and louder. Where was she, anyway? Why was he sitting here? And why was Karen waving a hand in front of his face?
"Halpert! You in there?"
"Uh, yeah. I just have work to do." He turned abruptly to his desk, pretending she wasn't there. He felt himself willing her to be gone, afraid that maybe she could even hear the ferocity of his thoughts. She rose, shrugged, and headed back to her own desk. He made it a point to watch her as she went, as though he had an obligation to ogle her, seeing as she was his girlfriend and all.
"For now," he thought, almost reflexively. And the litany of Pam's name swam in his head.
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Karen settled back in to her desk, and sized up the office nervously. The reception desk was empty because Pam had taken the day off, which had to be a good thing. She smiled a little and allowed her eyes to rest on Jim. He was tearing into a sealed envelope like it was Christmas morning. She watched him unfold a sheet of pale yellow paper that seemed to be printed with a spreadsheet and several doodles. He smiled to himself that big, secret smile that Karen almost never saw. It was the smile that wasn't hers.
Karen turned back to her computer and opened her email program. It would be a busy day. There were a few old friends she needed to contact.
Author's Chapter Notes:
A bit of a Resurrection. There are only a few more chapters needed to wrap this up...so enjoy.
And, as you know by now, none of these characters belong to me. I am borrowing them, and will return them with a cup of sugar when I'm done. That's what she said.
