The Footnotes
by Steph
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In the big picture, the epic love story of Scranton, they were just the footnotes.
Spoilers: Season 4
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.
“How did you get invited?” Karen asked Toby.
Which sounded a lot ruder than she had intended.
She hadn’t even wanted to come to Ryan Howard’s oh-so-exclusive party at some
oh-so-trendy club. She had been invited because Ryan thought she was hot; she had gone because Ryan, smug twerp that he was, was still her boss and to get ahead sometimes you went to parties your smug twerp of a boss was throwing.
And Karen really wanted to get ahead.
She was dressed up, was in fact overdressed in a sleek, black dress and heels, just in case she ran into anyone she knew. Not necessarily him. Just anyone she knew. She was overdressed, sipping a drink that was way too strong, and looking for someone she recognized, someone who wasn’t totally plastered or ogling much younger women.
And then she saw someone from Scranton, standing near the door. By himself. Looking as uncomfortable as she felt. And she decided to start things off on the right foot by insinuating he didn’t belong here.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I like to think that Ryan keeps inviting me to things because he genuinely likes me, but I think it’s mostly to screw with Michael.”
“Michael isn’t here, is he?”
God, she hoped not.
Toby shook his head. “No. Not invited. He didn’t invite anyone else from Scranton.”
She let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Cool. And sorry again. I just meant that this doesn’t seem like your scene.”
“It’s not,” he said looking around at the very young crowd. “I don’t know if Ryan wanted me to chaperone or…”
She laughed. “At least you’re not dressed like you just wandered in from the opera.”
He started to say something, but was cut off by loud, pulsing music that made them both wince.
Attempting any further conversation would be useless. Toby tended to speak pretty softly in the best of situations.
She nodded at him. He nodded back.
Good times.
“There’s a restaurant downstairs,” she yelled, because she was suddenly starving and claustrophobic and couldn’t hear herself think. “Want to go get something to eat?”
“Yes,” he yelled back. “Let’s go.”
--
The restaurant wasn’t too crowded and they were seated almost immediately. They both peered at their menus and Karen realized something.
She had no idea what to talk about.
She only knew a few things about Toby. He was divorced and was once on antidepressants (fun little facts Michael had kindly shared with all the Stamford people on their first day). And Michael seemed to hate him with all his heart.
Not stellar ways to break the ice.
She guessed she could talk about work.
Once they ordered, she started talking about Utica before he could talk about Scranton.
She talked about her coworkers, about being the manager – how much she loved it.
“I ask myself sometimes what Michael would do in a situation and then I do the opposite. It always helps.”
“I’ll bet,” he said and he sort of smiled, but not quite.
She kept talking. She felt like she was on a blind date; the kind where you think the guy is interesting and smart, but you’re not 100% sure, because he’s nearly mute and things are starting to get really awkward.
Maybe they should have stayed at the party.
--
But no the food was okay and the drinks were surprisingly better here. And they could actually hear each other speak. Which was nice.
She was telling him about some situation at work – nothing as over-the-top as some of the situations in the office that dare not speak its name – and how there were a few disagreements here and there.
She exaggerated them a little for comic effect and asked for his opinion, because she was starting to get sick of the sound of her own voice.
He gave her some very practical advice and was very patient when she had more questions for him.
How fortunate for the Utica office that she was dining with an HR rep.
As he continued speaking, in that soft voice of his, she wondered why she hadn’t interacted with him – a nice, fairly normal guy - more while she was in Scranton.
Sure she exchanged a few pleasantries with him in the many months she was there, but all her attention had been focused on Jim and on making sales, and she didn’t really think of socializing with anyone else.
Which was kind of a shame, she thought now, taking another sip of her drink.
She’d bet they could have been friends.
--
She was monopolizing the conversation. And she wasn’t even that much of a talker normally. Not like this.
Part of her wondered if this was why Kelly talked so much. If the reason she never shut up was because she sat in the back with Toby and felt the need to fill all the silence.
Huh. Something to think about.
“Hey,” Karen said, happy because she finally thought of something. “How’s your daughter?”
“Great,” Toby said, looking touched she remembered. “She’s eight now.”
“Wow,” Karen said. “Eight.”
And then she had absolutely no follow up.
“Would you like to see a picture?” he asked, sounding almost shy.
“Sure.”
He took out his wallet and handed her a picture. Karen looked at the little girl, beaming, proudly showing off two red paint-covered hands.
“She looks happy,” Karen said.
Judging by the expression on his face, that was exactly the right thing to say.
--
She was pissed that Ryan had gotten the job over her. And by her second drink at the restaurant (third total), she felt comfortable enough with Toby to tell him.
“But I love Utica,” she said. “It’s so normal there. And no cameras. So much more work gets done without all the cameras. By the time I left Scranton, I hated the cameras.”
Okay. Looks like she was going to talk about Scranton after all.
“I’m ready for them to leave,” Toby admitted. “It’s getting too much.”
“Do you think they’ll ever air anything?”
“I hope not,” he said frowning. “So many people are going to be unhappy if it airs.”
“I’m going to be unhappy,” she muttered. “When things were going good for me, I didn’t mind the cameras. I thought, okay this is kind of cool and different. But with the way everything ended up… I don’t know if I like the idea of my family, my friends, exes, clients, potential clients… knowing everything. I was thinking about this awhile ago. People are going to either see me as the woman who was too clueless to realize what was happening right in front of her or as the stupid bitch who got in the way.”
She had been thinking about this lately, but it was the first time she had admitted it out loud.
“Maybe it won’t be that bad.”
“Maybe,” she said, not believing him. “What about you? Do you ever worry about people you know seeing your footage?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. My ex, my ex’s lawyer. And she’s way too young for it now, but who’s to say Sasha won’t see it one day. I really don’t like thinking about that.”
“Is there something in particular you’re worried about? I mean, yeah Michael’s an ass to you, but that makes him look bad not you.”
He didn’t look at her. “No, there are other things. Especially this year.”
“What happened?”
He sighed and said, “I’ve developed…inappropriate feelings for a coworker and it’s affected my work. I’m not looking forward to seeing that.”
She leaned forward. She had not been expecting something so interesting. Or for him to be so forthcoming. “Really? Are these feelings requited?”
Damn, she was nosy sometimes.
“No,” he said. “No.”
She sipped her drink and considered this. Who it could be. And then she realized who it had to be. Of course. Who else could it have been?
“You have a thing for Pam too?” she asked, feeling something almost like disappointment.
“I didn’t say that,” he mumbled.
“But it has to be. Want to know how I figured it out?” He didn’t respond so she kept going. “Well, first off I’m assuming it’s a woman. It’s probably not Angela, because she’s such an uptight little pill. I would say no to it being Kelly, because I would think she’s too immature and ditzy for you – although you do sit in the back together and for all I know you two spend your time discussing world politics and literary theory.” He was just barely smiling at that, so she pushed on. “I would say no to Phyllis because I saw you at her wedding and you seemed to be having a good time and I would say no to Meredith, because going by what I once overheard her say if you so much as looked at her the right way she’d be on you in a second.” The smile was now gone; now he just looked embarrassed. “I guess it could be Jan, but since she’s shacking up with your mortal enemy, not to mention completely nuts I would guess any appeal of hers would have dulled. So that leaves Pam.”
She sat back in her chair, satisfied by her deduction skills, but also kind of depressed because well… because.
“I almost asked her out once,” he said, still mumbling. “I had such a small window of opportunity and I couldn’t even do it.”
Which she guessed was his acknowledgment of it being Pam.
“Maybe that’s good,” Karen said. “She wouldn’t have wanted you.”
Ouch. That was blunt.
Too blunt for someone she hardly knew.
Way too blunt for someone who already looked like the saddest man in the world and whose face was now flushed a little too red.
“I don’t mean it anything against you,” she said quickly. “I just meant because of how they were…”
Like he needed anything clarified. Now she was only making things worse.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just mean maybe it was better this way. This way you didn’t end up the stupid bitch who got dumped near a fountain.”
He met her eyes. “No. I’m just the pathetic man who sits in the corner. That’s much better.”
“Maybe the footage won’t be as bad as we think,” she said, not sure who she was trying to convince. “Maybe we’ll be pleasantly surprised by how we’re edited.”
Yeah. She wasn’t really holding her breath on that one.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe we won’t be seen as that important when it comes to the big picture. We’ll just be… I don’t know… like footnotes to the epic love story.”
“Footnotes,” she repeated to herself, testing it out. She didn’t hate it. She raised her glass, waited for him to raise his and clinked them together. “To the footnotes. May our screen time be limited to nonexistent.”
“Amen.”
She could live with being a footnote.
It was such a nicer term than loser.
--
The man who saved the evening from being a complete downer was, oddly enough, Michael Scott.
She didn’t want to talk about the epic love story of Scranton anymore. And she didn’t want to have any more one-sided conversations.
So over dessert (which she insisted they order), she asked, “So Michael do anything stupid lately?”
There was a good chance the answer to that was yes.
“He had us all in a meeting yesterday,” Toby began and she smiled, happy to be his appreciative audience. “And he told us all that he wanted our branch to give back to the community. Like American Idol. So Andy asked if that meant we were going to sing.”
She laughed, not at all surprised. “The man does like to sing.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said, a little dryly. “So Michael said no but was going on and on about charity and I said I thought that was a great idea. He told me that no one cared what I thought and that I should just shut up.”
“Wow.”
“His great idea was to run a kissing booth. Most people were against this and Angela was already complaining and there were only a few people who seemed interested, but Michael said they weren’t hot enough and we’d end up losing money. I stupidly told him that a kissing booth was really not appropriate so he said that just because no one would ever want to kiss me doesn’t mean I should ruin it for everyone and if we couldn’t do it then it would be my job to tell all the starving kids that I was the reason they weren’t getting dinner tonight.”
“That sucks,” she said, hating Michael just a little bit more. “What did you say to that?”
“What could I say? I just went back to the annex hoping for some peace and quiet, but that didn’t really happen.”
“What happened?”
“Well,” Toby said, much more animated than before. “First off, Angela complained to me about the lack of morals in the office. Then I listened to Dwight and his huge list of random complaints – all of which reminded me how good it is to be sitting in the back. And then there was the Kelly and Darryl situation.”
“Kelly and Darryl?”
These people were all more entertaining and tolerable when she didn’t actually have to interact with them.
“They’ve been dating for a little while now. And fighting. So Kelly got the idea that I’m the perfect person to be mediating arguments. Yesterday I sat with the two of them and Kelly was going into excruciating detail about their latest fight and Darryl kept saying how he has to get back to work. And I said something somewhat in Darryl’s favor and she shrieked that I was her friend first and should be on her side and didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”
Karen asked him a few more questions and encouraged him to tell more stories. And some of them were funny, but most of them were not and inside she cringed as he spoke about his dealings with Michael.
In her short time in Scranton, she had heard Michael say terrible things to him. Several times. She remembered right before they all interviewed for the job, Michael had told Toby that everyone in the office had hated him.
She wished she had said something to him then. She wished she had told him that she didn’t hate him. That, as far as she could tell, no one but Michael hated him.
Maybe she could say something to him now.
“There are so many HR people around who suck,” she said. “They don’t know how lucky they are to have you there.”
Toby smiled at her, a wide smile that she wouldn’t have known he was capable of.
In the soft light of the restaurant, smiling like that, he was almost, nearly, just about handsome.
--
As they walked back upstairs to the party, she asked him if he was in love with Pam.
Not that it was any of her business.
He froze mid-step and she bumped into him. He turned around to look at her.
“No,” he mumbled, after several seconds of awkwardness. “It’s a crush and I should know better. But no, I’m not in love with her.”
“Good,” she said, feeling, for some reason, a little relieved.
“I guess.”
“I don’t love him. I did. But not anymore. I still hate him… them a little bit though. But it’s getting better. I don’t hate them as much.”
“That’s good,” he said and started to turn back around.
She grabbed his arm, surprising him, and when he was facing her again, she said in a low voice, “Toby, I don’t think you’re pathetic.”
He watched her for a second, with those kind, sad eyes of his, and said, “I never thought you were a bitch.”
She didn’t know why that made her so happy.
--
Back upstairs, they went to talk to Ryan, surrounded by his posse and while Toby was telling him about the restaurant and how they just needed to escape for some quiet, Ryan kept looking at Karen.
He was smirking at her, looking from her to Toby, with an I know what’s going on here type of grin on his face.
How did he get her job again?
--
In front of her car, she handed Toby her business card after scribbling her cell phone number on the back. “For all your paper needs in Utica.”
“Thank you,” he said. He put the card in his pocket and said, “I’m not really in New York that often.”
She figured as much. “Yeah.”
“But if you’re ever in Scranton…”
She laughed, and if it sounded a little bitter then she blamed it on the late night and her feet hurting in her too high heels. “I don’t ever plan to be in Scranton again.”
“I understand,” he said. “It was nice seeing you again, Karen.”
“I guess I’ll see you at Ryan’s next fab party,” she said. “You’ll ditch it with me again?”
“Definitely.”
The two of them stood there, neither of them moving. She had the urge to hug him – he looked like he needed a good hug.
She could probably use a good hug too.
And the longer she stood there the more she realized that Michael had been wrong.
When he had told Toby that no one would ever want to kiss him.
She was starting to feel a little tempted.
“Maybe…” he began and then stopped.
“Maybe what?” she asked and tried not to sound impatient.
“Maybe I can come to New York.” His voice was raised at the end of the sentence, making it a question.
If it was a question, then it required an answer. He was watching her, looking almost cautiously hopeful, and, as she considered things – how weird this whole thing was and how weird it could be – she felt something in her soften just a little bit. Felt almost cautiously hopeful herself.
When she finally answered her fellow footnote, she was completely honest.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think I’d like that.”
The end
Steph is the author of 37 other stories.
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