When Jim was a kid, his mom had a black cat named Sheba. Yes, they had dozens of family pets, but Sheba, well, Sheba was Mrs. Halpert's familiar alone. Among their motley collection of mutts and torn-ear calicos, Sheba was a rare beauty. She was lithe and sleek, with slanting green eyes and a glossy black coat. Once, when Jim's mother was sitting in the big chair by the fire, old Oliver crawled into her lap, with his rusty fur and odd puffy tail. He closed his one sleepy eye in pleasure as his head got a rare lazy head scratch. Sheba would have none of it. She stalked into the room, and with one withering look, sent poor Oliver back to the basket on the hearth.
For some reason, Jim had thought about Sheba a lot lately.
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The day in Philly had been....well, it had been. He hadn't been able to sleep very much the night before, and he found himself making lame excuses to Karen all day about his yawns and distracted glances to his watch. He couldn't lie....but he couldn't exactly tell the truth, either, so his night of racing thoughts in front of the TV became a tale of a Sopranos marathon on HBO. Which, he thinks, she seemed to buy. But he couldn't be sure. When he said he was too tired to stay at her place, she got a strange look as she licked her lips and nodded.
"I will be over tomorrow." It was not a question, nor an invitation. It was a statement, a reminder of just who belonged to whom. He was too confused and tired to say anything but, "OK."
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He was staring at a football game but not seeing a thing when the knock came at exactly noon. He sighed and walked to the door, making sure to note who was playing so that his wandering mind would have a good alibi. She stood there at his door, and, surprisingly, lacked the accusing expression that had been her constant mask of late. She lifted a shopping bag and waved it.
"I brought lunch." She smiled coyly. "But, we'll see if you want to eat it." her eyes narrowed and her pink tongue slowly glided over her upper lip. He found found himself wondering if she had practiced that move in the mirror before she came over.
"Oh. Um....come in?"
She pushed past him and walked into the kitchen, where she dropped the bag on the table. She pulled a can of whipped cream out of it, and squirted a trail of it down her index finger. She lifted it to her lips and pulled it into her mouth with a lapping tongue. Her eyelids drooped, and she gave a satisfied murmur before she coated her finger again.
"Want some?" She held it out to him, her eyes meeting him directly. Behind the practiced sensuality, he saw it -- a naked, insecure questioning. "Where do I stand?" was all he could read in her eyes. "Where do I stand?"
"I don't know." he blurted, answering the unspoken question instead of the come-on.
She drew back as though he had insulted her. "What?"
"Um.....sorry." He found himself coughing nervously. "I think I'm coming down with something. I really feel like crap."
"Oh! Poor baby! Lets get you into bed............" And she shepherded him into his bedroom and slid next to him under the covers. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, tried to clear his mind again so that he could just figure this thing out......
But, before he knew it, her hands were on him, and her soft skin was all around him, and all he could do was close his eyes and let her...just let her. But, when it was over and her hands were tight around him, he was left staring at the ceiling and wondering how something that most men would kill for could feel so empty and unsatisfactory.
"So, " she said, using a tone he usually heard her use on cold calls to prospective clients. "I am so excited about this party next week. I mean, FINALLY, we will get out of this town and go to a REAL party with people who MATTER, you know? I've got the most fab dress that I bought in the city last spring...you don't think that's too old, do you? New York people are pretty particular, you know."
"I don't think they'll care if your dress is six months old, Kelly." He said it without thinking, in a joking, teasing tone he wasn't sure she'd ever heard him use, not toward her, anyway. A bitter silence told him just how stupid an idea that had been.
"Jim. I am going to this party with the big picture in mind, and I wish you were, too. This is a phenomenal networking opportunity for both of us. If we play our cards right, we could make some great connections. And you know you have the talent to get promoted to corporate. I don't understand why you aren't putting more effort into doing it. At the very least you should appreciate me for doing it for you."
But, he thought....I never asked you to. And I'm not even sure I want you to. He grunted in the silence, an incomprehensible sound that defied translation.
"We really should make the most of this event, Jim." We. It was always "we" and "us" with her. Their relationship seemed to him like a corporate merger, with a timeline and objectives to be marked off a list. And he had followed the agenda faithfully up until now. It was all part of his new, grown up self. James Halpert, executive.
"yeah." He stared into the darkness, and wondered why he had a sudden urge to enter Karen and the details of their relationship into his contact management software. He patted her shoulder. "I'm sure you'll look great." he said, truthfully. "You always do, Sheb'"
"What did you call me?"
"What? oh....um....I don't know. Like I said, I don't feel well....must be delirious. Sorry."
"Oh. Well. I'll see you at work tomorrow. I can see you don't really need much company tonight." She rose abruptly, gathered her things, and headed for the door. He knew that he was supposed to follow her, ask her what was wrong, follow the script, talk until dawn, until all was well again.....
"Goodnight" He rolled to face away from his bedroom door. "See ya." He pretended he didn't hear her sharp breath or the slam of his front door.
When he finally slept, he dreamt of Oliver, the old rusty cat, purring and rubbing his leg as he stood in kitchen of his childhood home.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This takes place the day after Pam's Art Show in my happy little post "Business School" Alternate Universe. We're now transitioning into AU and speculation for Cocktails....
As is painfully clear by now, I do not own these characters or any intellectual property associated with them. If I did, things would be different.
