Ten o’clock. Feels much later.

She’s starving hungry—they still haven’t ordered food! But there’s only one pack of chips left and it’s on the teeny tiny side-table squeezed in between Jim’s chair and the wall. She’d have to either ask him for it and risk being humiliated when he ignores her, or stand in between his outstretched legs. Her stomach is growling at her, but no can do.

She needs to check her cell phone; her sister had an interview this afternoon for a job here in Scranton. She’s desperate to know if she’s heard back but… her cell is in her jacket pocket. Which is in the bedroom. She does not want to see the place where Jim and Karen have sex… where they’re playful, affectionate… intimate. It’s bad enough without her being able to color in the detail.

Most of all, she wants to go home. She’s worried about what Roy might do when someone eventually pisses him off. Which will happen. It’s a toss-up whether it’ll be Ryan or Andy, but it’ll happen.

And Jim is, if it’s humanly possible, ignoring her even harder than he’s been doing the past few weeks. Also, Karen is throwing back tequila shots and she’s dropped her guard. Maybe she knows something? Maybe she just doesn’t like her? Whatever; she’s openly watching her now, like she wants her to know she’s watching.

Admittedly she’s been watching Karen too, just… more discreetly. There’s things she needs to know. Like she needs to understand what she’s doing wrong. She needs to know more about the woman who got him over being ‘in love’ in just a few short months. She needs to figure out what it is that Jim wants because, as far as she can tell, Karen is her complete opposite.

Watching her hurts. Watching her with Jim hurts hard, but she can’t stop until she knows these things.

And that’s why she stayed late last night, poring over a filing drawer of old Dunder Mifflin newsletters, scavenging for mentions or pictures of her. And she found them! Lots and lots of them. And all she’s learned is that she’s a reasonably successful and ambitious saleswoman, who absolutely loves to be front and centre of a publicity shot (uh-huh, that’s bitchy and she doesn’t feel like apologising for it), and it looks like she’s been in relationships with a few of her coworkers. There isn’t a Stamford event photo from the past five years that doesn’t have a picture of Karen locked on to some guy or other. You can do that? In company photos?? Their HR woman obviously cares as much about her job as Toby does about his. Anyway, she’s no closer to figuring her out. Maybe Jim will succeed where Tony Wallis and Jethro Ng and Mario De Luca and Jeff Brydon failed. They’ve never really looked like a real couple to her, but it would be just her luck.

‘Oh!’ She’s startled by Ryan banging hard into her knee and she only narrowly saves her wine from sloshing over the edge of the glass. They’re all very squeezed in, with mismatched spare chairs pushed in wherever they’ll fit. Ryan does not stop his over-filled glass of wine from slopping onto the carpet right at her feet. Then he sways and tips half of his bowl of chips right on top of the wet patch before he turns, oblivious, and walks over them. ‘Ryan?’ she says, nodding at the mess he’s made. ‘Yeah.’ He raises a lazy hand in the air without looking and wanders through to the bathroom.

She’s instantly on her feet, moving automatically to fix it like she’s programmed to sort out the mess her coworkers’ leave in their wake, then she forces herself to sit back down. No siree. Not tonight. Not her problem. She gives a mental shrug; at least he’s drinking white wine.

But she does get up again to go to the kitchen, because she isn’t so couldn’t-care-less that she’s happy to be blamed for Ryan’s sludgey winey chip mess. As she smooths down her skirt, Roy puts a hand on her ass and rubs it, and she freezes.

‘Hey, babe. Forgot to say, I saw the burger bar by the apartment are looking for a server. It’s perfect for ya. Part-time… evenings and weekends. Close by our place. If I get the promotion, and you get some extra shifts, we could get an apartment closer to my brother’s new apartment. We’d be nearer the lake, and you could get some time in on your wave-runner. And the truck needs upgrading, and…’

Should she laugh or should she cry? How is it that you can spend ten years with a person, and them know you so little?

More importantly, how is it that she went through months of drama and pain, putting all this behind her… and yet here she is again, after one moment of weakness?

It would be fair to say that she is NOT fine with her choices.

***

‘Karen,’ Kelly whisper-yells, in her ear. ‘I’m so glad you came to Scranton—you’re so cool! And I’m not just saying that ‘cos I’ve had a little glass of wine. And… I love your apartment and I think we’re gonna be really great friends.’ She nods and steps back, taking her hands then she looks both ways before she leans back in and says, ‘We’re different. From them.’ She frees a hand to wave loosely at the rest of the room. ‘Like, we’re…’ She looks around again. ‘…way cooler? Come on…’ She pulls her into the middle, puts her hands on her shoulders and starts to move unsteadily to the music, concentrating ferociously on her feet as her brain takes its time to locate her missing balance.

And you know what? Yeah, Kelly is Kelly; she’d be out of her depth in a puddle. But she’s easy to talk to and… it’s like no-one is noticing she’s even here? In her own home? Just in the past five minutes, she’s heard, ‘Hey Tuna… is there a window we can open in here. Getting a bit toast-ey…’ and Kelly just took out the Dave Brubeck Quartet cd she put on and asked Pam if she could put The Killers on instead, and Ryan wants to know from Pam if there’s something here he can mix with rum and Roy is asking Jim how much the rent is.

Kelly is drunk… so she probably doesn’t really mean it, but she’ll take fun and friendship—or even just someone noticing she exists! —wherever she can find it. She’s even prepared to overlook the stupid stain-removal stunt.

So she puts her hands on her hips and she moves with her. ‘It started all with a kiss’ Kelly sings along to Mr Brightside—and she’s got a good voice! She joins in, ‘How did it end up like this?’ And then they’re both yelling out the words and it feels great and they’re throwing shapes and she feels like she’s at a party at last.

Until they get to the jealousies and alibis and destiny part and she doesn’t feel like singing anymore. She drops her hands and Kelly lets go too. She watches her pick up the bottle on the floor, top up her glass and, of course, she dribbles it all over the carpet. Jesus. She should have switched her to white wine. She needs to go get carpet cleaner. Again.

And wouldn’t you know, Pam is on her way to the kitchen... Maybe she just needs to tell her how she feels. Yeah. That’s what needs to happen. She tops up her own drink, throws it back then pours another one. She’s on shots now because she’s belatedly remembered about calories. Also, she’s feeling kinda reckless.

Checking Pam’s whereabouts has turned into a bit of a habit for her. She’s developed a sixth sense for it: probably wise, because she has not come here in that red dress for nothing. That’s for sure.

And okay… so this is not a good look, but it’s possible that she’s spent quite a bit of time on the internet. Best estimate… about four days? Aggregate hours, obviously. Over time. It’s not like she stayed online for four caffeine-fuelled days and nights, stalking Pamela Morgan Beesly and all possible permutations thereof, because that would be crazy. She’s not crazy. What she is—and now she’s drunk, she’s gonna call it—what she is, is scared. Scared that she’s made a fool of herself. Scared that Jim doesn’t want her… okay, she knows he wants her, in the most basic way. But maybe not in the kind of way that justifies moving from a home you really love to a new home you really don’t. Or letting yourself fall in love.

So that’s how she’s persuaded herself that she isn’t a lunatic for spending so much time finding out that Pam does not have an account with Facebook or Myspace or Bebo or YouTube or Flickr or even freakin’ StupidVideos… well, you never know. Hey, she doesn’t know anyone here or she would just ask. She even tried Gaydar. And learned that it’s just for men. How is that useful? Not just for her purposes, but for, like… women. Looking for other women?

The one thing she did find while she was failing to find a female equivalent was a hyper-sanctimonious religious blog by somebody called P. Beesly. Yes! With hope in her heart she spent an evening trawling MyChurch and ChristianMingle and whatever else holy that she could find. Nothing. Then she checked out the original blog again. And at the bottom, it was signed ‘Patrick’. Hours spent, out of which she got nothing but a couple of cake recipes. Because Pam Beesly does not have a social media presence, unless it involves some kind of fetish that she’s never heard of because she’s checked all the ones that she knows.

Who under the age of fifty lives like that in 2007? Other than Jim?

And Jim does at least own a Facebook page. His brother set it up as a prank and he doesn’t care enough to take it down. Or even to change the bio about his ‘burning obsession with renaissance-era historical re-enactment and costume.’ Anybody who cares to look him up will see him photoshopped into a doublet, breeches and stockings and learn that he’s looking for a like-minded wench—Elizabethan England enthusiast with historically authentic sword-fighting experience preferred—to make costumes, battle and love with. He’d shrugged when she asked why he’d left it up. ‘Why bother? Anyone I care about knows I’m more of a Roman Legions guy… Also, I don’t know how.’ Sometimes, she just doesn’t get him?

But her mom really liked the lemon drizzle cake and… oh, yeah. Pam. Kitchen.

Soooo… yeah, she’s feeling a bit woozy now… but she picks up the bottle again. A short measure of your finest Dutch courage, bartender!… why don’t you pour it yourself, ma’am?… Oh, I think I just might… She pours it, downs it, takes a deep breath and turns into the kitchen. Pam is washing glasses at the sink.

‘Hey, Pam. No need to do that,’ she tells her with a friendly smile.

There’s no need for hostility.

***

‘Sorry!’ he says, stumbling over Andy’s outstretched foot as he sprints toward the kitchen. He needs to get there before a determined looking Karen gets to say whatever it is that she marched in there to say. She’s had a lot to drink now… he doesn’t think she’d be mean? Actually, he doesn’t know. A distinct clanking noise in his brain stops him short as he realises that he doesn’t know her well enough to say for sure.

As he appears in the doorway, trying to look casual and like he hasn’t just dived across the room to get there, Pam is smiling at her. ‘It’s no bother. The glasses,’ she clarifies. ‘It’s the least I can do. Great party, Karen. Thanks for asking us.’ She walks past him, turning sideways to get through the door without touching him.  But close enough that he can smell her shampoo and feel her dress swish against his knee.

He inhales and waits until she’s gone. ‘Can I do anything?’

‘Uh… I don’t…’ Karen closes her eyes and breathes in. She stays like that for a moment, before she shakes her head and says, ‘Yeah. You could order food. Find out what people want. I’ll get plates. Cutlery. Thanks, Jim.’

Yeah. They need food. Like, an hour ago. He’d have done it already, but Karen wanted to wait until ‘late-ish’; it’s more European, apparently? Anyway, it’s her party and he doesn’t want to tread on her toes.

‘Okay, everyone!’ He claps his hands to get their attention, yelling so he can be heard over the music. ‘We’re gonna order food now. You have two minutes to have a mature and polite discussion about what we’re going to eat, then I’ll put it to the vote. No punching no gouging, guys.’  

It’s only seconds before Andy and Ryan are bickering over pizza or Chinese like they’re an old married couple and this is a long-running dispute between them. The general vibe has been edgy all night and extreme hunger has upped the grouch factor.

‘You are BOTH wrong!’ Kelly yells, laughing. ‘Mex-i-can, Mex-i-can, Mex-i-can!’

The mood he’s in now, none of them are going to be eating anything, because he’ll either have chucked everyone out or killed them by the time the delivery guy gets here.

Karen’s pissed off at him. And it looks like she’s pissed off at Pam too; he’s genuinely worried about what she might say or do.

And he’s pissed off for her because everyone’s basically ignoring her. He’s doing his best, trying to include her in conversations but if she went out for a walk probably no-one would notice.

Ryan is… doing whatever it is he’s doing.

Roy is treating Pam like a bawdy maid, groping her ass while he orders her to fetch him stuff. While he’s forced to watch her pretend this isn’t offensive.

And it’s difficult enough trying to avoid her at work. In here, it’s like a game of cat and mouse in a broom closet. Is he being childish? Oh, yeah. No question. Is it helping? Nope. Does he know how he digs himself out of this mess he’s gotten himself… them into? Also, no.

Only Kelly seems oblivious to it all. She’s turned up the volume and is still ‘dancing’ in the centre of the room to The Killers. There are too many chairs and too many people and too little space which means she’s bumping into everyone’s knees as she grooves, but she doesn’t care. You’ve got to admire her, really.

His job for the evening is to focus on getting them all through this without the assistance of the emergency services. Plus drinks. He’s been trusted with drinks. And calling for the take-out. He needs to get on that because, on the off-chance that he manages to get through the next half hour without committing a felony, he needs to get food into them to soak up some of the booze.

‘Okay, guys,’ he yells. ‘Karen gets the casting vote because it’s her party. So, Thai it is.’ It has nothing at all to do with the fact that he heard Roy stage-whispering to Pam, ‘You know I don’t like Thai. It’s too spicy!’

Yeah. He’s been eavesdropping. He cannot believe she’s doing this to herself again. After everything she’s told him in the past, everything she’s done to get herself beyond this. And just like that, he flips from angry to being overwhelmed with sadness. If they were still friends, he wouldn’t need to be sneaky. He’d say, ‘What are you doing, Pam? Is this going to make you happy? Seriously?’

Why in the name of God didn’t he do that the first time around, when she might have listened?

And, yeah, he heard her trying and failing to explain over the noise that Roy was talking about their old apartment, but he isn’t giving her the satisfaction.

It’s been bad enough watching him tonight with his hands all over her, grabbing her, playing with her hair. It’s not just here; it’s every coffee-break, every lunchtime, every home-time. It doesn’t even look like she enjoys it, but on it goes. On and on. Like before.

‘Thank you, Karen. Much appreciated. I was just gonna take those through. Can I help with anything?’ he hears Roy asking in his Sunday voice as she picks up a couple of his empty bottles from the arm of the sofa.

Yeah. And that. The fake Mister Rogers thing he’s got going on? A lump of rock in a fucking sand-storm would see through that. He doesn’t even feel bad about not letting on that he heard her. Much.

Someone’s gonna need to have her back, though. He’s squandered the right to be that person, but somebody’s going to have to pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong. Maybe he’ll have a word with Kelly when she’s sober. Or… he’s met her sister a couple of times. Maybe he could…

Shit.

He needs to get his head together. What Pam gets up to is none of his business. Karen is. And she’s been rattled since his red-wine disaster. Jesus. He can’t believe it was him that did it first; he’d have put his money on Kelly. Or Roy. Or even Pam, because she’s an absolute klutz in an adorable way. Pam would probably have picked him, even though they both know he has ninja-class co-ordination. Just to even it up.

Stop it, Halpert. Definitely no more beer.

‘How are you settling in, Karen?’ he hears her ask. ‘How do you like Scranton?’ She’s trying to smooth things over. Being helpful amidst the chaos because it’s what she does.

‘Good, yeah. Thanks, Pam. It’s a good place to live.’ Although her tone’s kind of strained, Karen’s being polite too. Saying the right things. Pretending she doesn’t hate Scranton. The conversation has a Sunday visit with a frosty elderly aunt vibe.

‘Yeah, I’m really settling in… now I’ve got my own place,’ Karen adds. ‘Of course, it’s a great help, Jim being here and…’

‘It must have been a big move for you,’ Pam interrupts. ‘Leaving your family, friends…?’

‘Brave move, considering.’ Ryan chuckles.

‘Considering?’ Karen asks him, confused.

He just chuckles again, then turns to wink at him.

What the fuck is he up to?

Anxiety trickles down his spine. He gets up and goes to pour himself some water and Karen’s immediately right there beside him, agitated. There’s a hint of suspicion when she quietly asks, ‘Is it just because I turned him down? He’s being… strange? Kinda seems like an over-reaction, no?’

He has no idea what Ryan’s game is but he’s radiating malevolence, mainly toward Karen. He needs to speak to him… he can’t let him hurt her. He’s right, though; she is brave, considering.

And, thunk. There it is. The guilt is back with a vengeance. She left her home and her family and her friends and her cute shoreside apartment that she inherited from her nonna. He should have been honest with her.

So he brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear and changes the subject. Because failing to communicate has worked out beautifully for him in the past.

‘Is the wine okay? The guy in the store said the red was his uncle’s favourite, so I bought a case of it. Then I realised I know nothing about his uncle.’ He sighs and shakes his head. ‘Karen, maybe he only ever drinks beer, but he had to drink this wine one time at a wedding and he didn’t exactly hate it… or he could be a raddled alcoholic who drinks household chemicals if he can’t lay his hands on legitimate booze?’

She smiles. If she noticed the clumsy sidestep, she doesn’t show it.

He’s been doing this a lot. Side-stepping. Prevaricating. Fudging. Barefaced lying. He’s inventing new ways to be furtive daily. Not without reason, because he’s being watched. Also…not without reason. He is genuinely trying to make this work, but the universe keeps tossing curveballs at him.

Like after work today. They were both in a good mood at the same time—increasingly rare—and they were having fun, getting everything ready for the party. They stopped by his place so he could change and pick up some extra plates and cutlery. He needed something to carry it all, so he emptied a hold-all full of shirts onto his bed. He hasn’t used it since Stamford, and he’d forgotten…

Karen snatched up a pencil drawing from the pile and stared at it, then at him. Eyebrows raised. It’s a drawing of a sad-faced donkey looking out from behind a familiar reception desk at a chaotic bullpen. ‘Get better, Halpert,’ she’d written. ‘That’s an order - I miss you! Also, I might just go crazy if you don’t come back soon…’ He took it out of Karen’s hand and scrunched it in his fist and shoved it into his pocket. ‘That’s just some stuff that…’

‘Yeah,’ she’d said. ‘It always is.’

***

Kelly is throwing herself into Madonna’s back catalog now…. And, thwack, right into her knees. She has to grab her arms to steady her. To be fair, there’s hardly any room, but she’s looking distinctly wobbly and very drunk now. And Kelly is a girl who throws up, so….

‘Hey, Kelly,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you come and sit down for a bit. I’ll go get you some water.’ As she stands up to give her the seat, she’s pulled into a tight hug. ‘Oh my god Pam… I love you. You’re like our den mom or something. Thank you, Pam! Den mom, Pam!’ she giggles hysterically. ‘Den mom den mom den mom!’

Den mom. So much for the sexy red dress. If she manages to keep it clean, she could get her money back.

She turns to pick up her glass and Roy grabs her and pulls her on to his lap. He squeezes her tight and presses a hard kiss on her lips; she has to force herself not to shove him away… not to tell him to stop already. Not to tell him that this was a mistake. That she can’t do it.

She can’t think how she’s going to be able to let him down. Again.

***

‘Anyway, what does he mean by ‘feelings’? Like, he’s attracted to her? Loves her?’ Sofia had asked her.

She’d just shrugged. She doesn’t know. Feelings was her choice of word. Deliberately vague, because she was scared of the answer if she’d said the word that was on her mind. How could she have kept on pretending there’s a point to this? So that’s why she uses tame words like crush and feelings. People think she’s confident, brash… whatever. But she can’t even ask her boyfriend if he’s in love with another woman.

What she can do… what she is going to do, is look like she’s not letting it get to her! Or that she’s really pissed that Jim and Pam are being treated like… Scranton branch royalty? God, if she asks a question… makes a suggestion, everyone automatically looks at them. Pam and Jim, Jim and Pam… She hasn’t been given a role in this play, not even like villager 1 or villain fucking 3. Oh yeah, everyone’s perfectly nice to her when they can’t avoid talking to her but…

Jesus… This is her home and her party! She is taking control of this.

‘Hey, Jim,’ she says as he sits down again. ‘Let’s dance.’

‘I don’t…’

‘C’mon.’ She stands up and takes him by the hand. She’s brought everyone here to make a point. She can’t remember exactly what it was, but she’s gonna fuckin’ make that point one way or another. So she slips her hands into his back pockets, grips his ass and pulls him tight against her. Then she lays her head against his chest and moves to the music.

***

‘Help me out here, Halpert!’ Karen hisses in his ear when they sit down again. So, he isn’t  comfortable with being groped in front of… everyone. If she wasn’t pissed at him before, she is now.

‘You look like you’ve booked out for the evening—these are your people!’ she tells him. ‘Tell a funny story, throw Kelly some meat or… duet with Andy or… anything! Improvise!’

She’s right. He needs to step up. It’s just his head’s not… so, normally he’s good at this. He can usually find a funny anecdote, a joke, but… nope. His mind is blank. ‘Oh… how did you get on with buying that Honda, Ryan?’ is what he says instead. Ouch. That is excruciatingly awkward, but it’s the best he can do. ‘Did it work out?’

‘You already asked me that,’ he drawls without looking up. Karen’s right; Ryan’s being a sullen ass tonight.

He knows when he’s beat. ‘I’ll… see if I can find more chips. Drinks, anyone?’

Nobody but Roy looks up, but then he apparently remembers that he already dragged a full box of Stella over beside him. ‘Nah, s’okay. Halpert. I’m good.’ He’s making short work of it, and he was well-gone before he started. ‘Anyway, Pammy is looking after me, aren’t ya babe? In ev-er-ey way,’ he cackles as he tickles her midriff. ‘Could do with some more chips, honey. Barbecue beef. I’m all out.’ He stands up. ‘Uh… gotta pee. Bathroom?’

‘First left, that way.’ He waves vaguely in the direction and watches him lumber over.

Looks like Roy’s personality transplant is well down the path of being rejected already. He doesn’t look at Pam; doesn’t have to. He knows that she looks resigned. Anxious. Embarrassed.

And that is the choice she made. The anger is back and he’s sick to his stomach and…

‘I think everyone’s having a good time. It’s going well, isn’t it?’ Karen whispers in his ear.

It is? He turns abruptly to look at her, to see if she’s joking. Apparently not. He’s genuinely taken aback… Is it just him? 

No. It’s not. Ryan’s clearly not here for a good time—for whatever reason.

And Pam… In his peripheral vision he can see that she is playing with her bracelet and she’s checking her watch every five minutes. She doesn’t want to be here either.

Karen? He can’t tell whether she’s having fun or throwing an Oscar winning performance. He knows that all the things she’d like to be doing tonight are in New York… or at a push, Philadelphia. But here she is in Scranton, which isn’t her kind of town, or her kind of people. Or nightlife. Or food. Or fashion. Or gym classes. Or scenery. Or weather. She’s doing this for him.

So he’s trying for her sake, frantically spooling for a funny anecdote from his college days when Kelly stands up. ‘Hey, guys!’ she squeals as she stumbles on those ridiculous heels. She steadies herself, flings her arms, outstretched, above her head like she’s a god of rock addressing a stadium of screaming fans.

She stands there, nodding, until she’s got their attention then she claps her hands. ‘Listen! Guys, we need to get to know each other better tonight… So: … In Ten Years Time I Will…’ She waves over at Ryan. ‘Write these down, baby! Okay… we need to know: your job, are you married—or living with your gay lov-er… like that’s totally cool too!’ She’s looking directly at Andy with a sympathetic smile. ‘Everything! So, one: what’s your job? Two: where are you living? Three: are you rich or poor?’ She squints over at Ryan and groans. ‘Are you writing these down, Ryan? What are you doing, honey?’

Ryan doesn’t move except for to roll his eyes. ‘High school careers interview? It’s lame, Kelly.’

‘No it’s not, Ryan. Because it’s actually in-ter-es-ting!’ She gives her head a puzzled shake. ‘Okay. Five: what will be your favourite food? Six: your main hobby? Seven: are you married? Eight: Are you rich or poor? Nine: what will your biggest regret be. And, saving the best ‘til last…’ She claps her hands with glee. ‘In ten years’ time, what will be your favourite sex position!’

‘Oh… controversheeehal! Yo, dawg. Also… I think rich or poor was already number three…’ Andy offers, helpfully.

‘Kids, then. Number eight is kids. How many will you have?’ She picks up her glass and takes a lengthy sip. And another. ‘Okay, I’ll start with me.’

He urgently needs to go clean plates or something, because this is a live hand-grenade; he’s a bad liar and he and Karen have been having exactly this conversation for the past couple of months. And also the next part where she hyper-analyses his ‘non-committal’ answers. And his choice of adjectives. And his delivery and his facial expressions.

Not happening.

‘So, what’s everyone’s plans for the summer…?’ he asks in a desperate attempt to head this into the long grass, but Kelly’s already looking up at the ceiling with her lips pressed together and her eyes shut theatrically tight while she mulls it over.

It’s sort of cute that she thinks that there’s anything about her that they don’t know yet—even new guys Karen and Andy—because every thought that passes through her head falls out of her mouth.

‘So… I’m gonna be working in marketing in New York, like in a senior position. Maybe for Jimmy Choo…. actually no ‘cos the free stuff would just be like bags and shoes. Okay, Armani. And I’m married to Ryan, and we’re going to have three kids—boy, girl, boy—but we won’t have had them yet…’

‘But the question was, ‘where do you see yourself in 10 years’ time?’ You can’t count ‘em, if ya don’t got ‘em yet…’ Andy is clearly invested in those rules.

‘And it’s number eight!’ Karen objects with a smile.

‘Oh my god, Karen, Andy…shut up! You’re so… anyway, we’re really rich, because Ryan’s the CEO of… something cool and important, and we’ll be living in a trendy loft apartment in Manhattan, and we’re gonna spend our weekends shopping for Oriental ant… ant…’ she looks puzzled, then hiccups. The jolt is enough to startle her into remembering what she was trying to say. ‘Oh, yeah… shopping for antiques and our favourite food will be… Tex-Mex because burritos are the BEST!!’

She pauses to draw breath then blows a kiss at Ryan. Obviously, poor Kelly doesn’t realise that only this morning Ryan was telling Karen he was going to be at Colonel Hutch’s from 7.00 tomorrow if she fancied a drink or two. Hutch’s is the epicentre of Scranton’s sketchy hook-up scene, and nobody goes there unless they’re planning on getting lucky. He’s an ass. And yeah, he should probably want to deck him too. He tries to channel the anxiety he’s feeling into righteous indignation, so he stares at him… tries to see him as a foe.

It’s not working. Right now, Ryan’s lounging back in his chair with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised trying to look cool, and… nah. He just can’t take him seriously.

‘Aaaaaand I’m going to regret that I pretended to be sick for my high school trip to the Natural History Museum in New York because I thought it would be boring. But my best friend Monica saw Will Smith in the Oceans department and she got a really cute photo taken with him and he gave her a hug and kissed her cheek and... Oh… sex position? Girl on top ALWAYS.’

Andy purses his lips and nods sagely. ‘Oh yeah.’

‘Like you would know,’ Ryan mutters. Roy cackles, and claps in appreciation.

He sees Karen’s eyes widen at Ryan’s dig but she quickly recovers her smile. She hasn’t given up on her party yet because she’s a trouper and he has to remind himself yet again that he doesn’t deserve her.

‘Way to go, Kelly! Okay, I don’t know you very well, but I can totally see it!’ she says cheerfully. And maybe she is actually having fun? ‘Okay, who’s next?’

‘Yeah, I’ll go,’ Roy offers. ‘So in ten years’ time…? Uh…  Okay, it’s time to get Pam back on the wedding express, guys.’ And doesn’t he just make stupid train noises and a kinda sexual locomotive gesture. ‘… So, in 10 years’ time, we’ll be… 10 years married! With loads of kids. One a year, Pam?’ He bursts out laughing, then stops just as abruptly. ‘Uh… I guess I’ll have to get a better job because I’m not letting Pam go back to work once she’s looking after the kids.’

He wants to get up and walk out, but Karen’s watching him. He picks up his empty bottle and reads the distribution details on the back. Then he adds up the serial numbers. 53.

‘Uh, I don’t think this is the…,’ Pam says, but the bad habit she won’t give up isn’t listening to her.

‘…Our favourite food will still be Chinese,’ he interrupts her. That makes him even angrier: he needs to hear the end of that sentence. He adds the numbers up again. Just to check. He was right the first time.

‘And our hobby is gonna be… making babies!’ he carries on, grinning and waggling his eyebrows at them. ‘And I’ll regret that I let her go the last time. And… sexual position?’ His big hand reaches under the hem of Pam’s dress and gives her thigh a muscular squeeze.

‘Roy!’ Pam snaps, swiping his hand off and pulling the dress back down. Roy laughs and turns to her. ‘We need to get some more drink in this one… get you loosened up, babe! Waiter!’ He gestures in his direction and snaps his fingers, like the dick that he is. ‘The lady in red needs a stiff one!’

‘That’s what she said!’ Kelly and Karen scream together, laughing and Roy joins in, clapping his massive hands and snorting like a drunken albino seal. He looks away; he doesn’t want her to think that he’s enjoying this.

He chances a glance: she looks stiff as a board and she’s wearing a forced smile. Everyone is watching the awkward tussle as Roy makes a rough attempt to tickle her. She shrugs him off and wraps her arms more firmly round her middle, so he pulls her into an awkward, tight hug. She looks like she’s being kidnapped in front of a live audience.

‘Favourite sexual position?’ Roy continues, oblivious and laughing like it’s all good fun. ‘All of ‘em. And often!’ Pam wrestles herself free—did she actually just elbow him in the ribs? —picks up her glass and he watches her walk through to the kitchen, shoulders slumped. It’s like 2006 all over again. And 2005. And 2004. And probably every year since they started dating. He takes a deep breath.

Dwight says he knows an ex-cop in Dunmore who will off someone for you, no questions, for $500 and six bottles of Tennessee whiskey. Just saying.

‘Well, Roy…’ Andy says as he stands up and moves clumsily toward the door. He looks sceptical.  ‘That sounds like a lot of babies. A lot of pregnant. A helluva lot of nappy changin’. And it looks like the fair Pamela isn’t totally buying it, dude.’

God, even Andy—who’s basically a cartoon character—gets it. That just makes it worse. The bitterness is curdling his stomach and he feels nauseous. Jesus, Pam. He cannot believe this is happening again.

‘Oh, yeah, I can see Pam with loads of babies,’ Kelly squeals. ‘She’s great with Michael, and he’s like four babies all at the same time.’ Everyone else laughs, but he can’t pretend it’s funny. Not even to reassure Karen.

One thing he knows he wants in 10 years is for Pam not to be having her life controlled by this meat-headed asshole.

God… he needs to get out of this room. It’s too hot. Is it getting smaller? He stands up.

Then he remembers that Pam’s in the kitchen and Andy looks like he’s on his way to the bathroom. Nowhere to hide unless he shuts himself in the bedroom with the coats. He sits down again, and moves to loosen his collar, only to find that he’s already done it.

He’s jerked back to the moment by Karen asking, ‘Roy… the last time, you said?’ 

‘Oh my god, Karen!’ Kelly gasps, and her hand slaps against her mouth. ‘You weren’t here! Pam and Roy were engaged like forever and then finally they were gonna get married last summer and then she got cold feet… like weeks before the wedding and she broke up with him and it’s so beautiful that they’re in love again!’ She claps her hands and giggles. Well, someone’s happy for them, at least.

Not Ryan. He shakes his head and gives a sarcastic chuckle.

Karen isn’t saying anything at all. When he looks up, she’s looking straight at him, unsmiling, and he can almost see the combination dials spinning in her head. She raises her eyebrows at him and turns back toward the room.

He glimpses the red of Pam’s dress as she comes back from the kitchen. She’s carrying a tumbler filled with water. Or maybe neat vodka. Would figure. ‘So we know what you’re gonna be doing in ten years’ time, Pam! I’m so happy for you!’ Kelly announces. ‘And guess what? I’ve still got my dress from last time! And your gift ‘cos they wouldn’t take the tooth mugs back because they said Pam and Roy on them... This is so exciting. When? June? Oh… not long enough. July? A summer wedding is the best!’

He doesn’t want to know when. Which makes him the odd one out, because everyone else is absolutely rapt at the turn that this has taken.

‘Oh… I,’ she looks at the rug. He can feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck and his heart is hammering. They haven’t even got to him yet, but her anxiety is infectious. And he can still feel Karen watching him.

‘Roy’s…’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t like to plan ahead. I’ve learned over the past year that it’s best to… uh, well, to just go with the flow. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in 10 years. Who knows what they’re going to want in ten years? But I hope I’ll be having a happy life. And eating Italian food… My one regret?’ She bites her lip and looks at the floor again.

Yeah, now his heart has definitely stopped. He is actually gonna be carried out of here on a stretcher.

‘Oh!’ She looks up and smiles, not looking at anyone in particular. ‘Giving Michael a Disney Singalong DVD for Secret Santa, because he needed cheering up. And three years later he’s still watching it in his office and calling my line and singing ‘Once Upon a Dream’. Sometimes when he’s bored, he even calls me at home and does it.’

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed.

‘Oh my god, Pam! That’s such a totally boring answer. ‘I think you’re gonna be making babies with Roy!’

‘Sexual position?’ Ryan asks, with a leer. She ignores him.

‘Seriously, Kelly. I’m just gonna wait and see where life takes me,’ she tells her with a smile.

So is that a no to babies and Roy? He glances across at him and he’s playing with his bottle, tight-lipped. He looks up at Pam and he gives her a wink and a smile. ‘We need to talk, Pammy,’ he slurs.

‘Yeah, you guys so need to talk, ‘cos you need to get started on those babies!’ Kelly says, as she winks at them. ‘Okay, your turn, Jim!’

‘Yeah. Where do you see us in ten years’ time, Jim,’ Karen asks, grinning with the bottom fifty percent of her face.

He can’t think of a funny answer, and the truth is a ten foot wide elephant trap. Nope.

In his pocket, his hand feels for the drawing he shoved in there earlier out of her reach. He takes a moment before he says, ‘In 10 years’ time, I’ll be so glad I didn’t leave people’s glasses empty at Karen’s housewarming. Who needs a refill?’ Okay, so it’s a desperate move—the last thing this party needs is more drink, but he heads for the kitchen anyway before anyone can say no because, frankly? Drunken rampage and a night in the cells for everyone feels like a much better deal than honesty and the inevitable inquisition.

‘C’mon, Halpert. It’s just a game,’ Roy laughs.

‘Or is it?’ Ryan asks.

What the fuck is Ryan’s deal tonight? He keeps on with these sly insinuations, looking at him like they have a shared secret or something. As he walks past him to the kitchen he catches the cynical smirk on his smug face. If he were a lesser man he’d punch it.

Maybe when he’s had a couple more beers.

He’s never hit anyone in his life, but that is the second time he’s felt like taking a swing at someone in the space of five minutes. And they still have hours to get through before he can start subtly encouraging people to call for cabs.

He loads up Karen’s new tray with drinks, takes a deep breath and forces himself to go back in there. Once he’s handed out the glasses and bottles, he sits back down on the chair next to Karen and she’s saying something to him. He’s too busy trying to catch what Pam’s hissing at Roy to make sense of it.

She squeezes his shoulder, and he has a childish urge to shrug it off, because… this? She’s playing to the gallery. She’s been all over him since their guests arrived. He does not hate being touched by her or by anyone else; he’s a tactile guy. Affectionate, even. But this is not her. He knows why she’s doing it, and it jars. 

Until he sees Pam notice and recoil, and he feels a little sick burst of pleasure. Maybe Karen’s not completely wrong about her.

‘Okay. My turn,’ Karen says, her fingers still gripping his shoulder. ‘I think I’ll be in New York too, or maybe LA because I don’t like the winter in the east. Senior management position, don’t really mind what… I think I’ll be married to someone I love.’ He turns away to pick up his drink. ‘Don’t know about kids. Maybe. Maybe not.… Food? I think I’ll probably be bored of sushi by then? Maybe Greek? And… yoga. I’ll regret… not kicking Dwight’s ass when he told me he was considering me for a position as his apprentice, and he thought that was a compliment. Oh my god.’ She shakes her head and chuckles. ‘And sexual position…? Why would you narrow it down?’

He wipes his hands on his thighs.

‘Ryan?’ she asks.

‘No, that’s stupid, Karen, ‘cos Ryan’s just gonna be the same as me! So, Andy?’

Everyone looks at Andy, who sits up and rubs his hands together. Roy sits up too, and grins; he was dozing off there, for a few seconds, but it looks like he’s found his second wind. By his reckoning, he’s on about ten beers so far. ‘Yeah. Let’s all do Andy’s for him,’ he says with a leer. This is the Roy Anderson he knows. Dumb macho posturing with a side of bullying, and now he’s located prey.

‘Hey. We’re all about self-determination in here,’ he jumps in, anxious about where this is going. ‘Play nice, guys. Andy gets to pick his own future,’

‘No!! This is more fun!’ shouts Kelly.

‘Be gentle, guys,’ Andy says sheepishly. ‘You can pick but make it something nice.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Ryan’s lip’s curled and he sneers, ‘It’ll definitely be nice. Lego-head trust-fund boy here will be single and set up in some penthouse apartment that his daddy has bought him, and he’ll be walking about in his stupid fucking preppy gear pretending he’s from London. And sex? Yeah. He pays someone to tie him up and spank him.’

Pam glowers at him. ‘Ryan!’ she snaps.

Karen’s staring at him, open-mouthed.

Kelly laughs like he’s just cracked a world-beating gag. ‘Oh my god, Ryan,’ she giggles. ‘You’ve been in such a bad mood all day! What is up with you?’

Andy just looks hurt then laughs. It’s put on. He genuinely feels bad for the guy… even Roy looks startled by Ryan’s vicious attack out of nowhere, and he started it. But then he laughs and slaps his thigh. ‘Probably, but that’s absolutely fucking golden coming from the guy Pam says never made a single sale. Seriously? Ever? How come you’re still in a job, dude? No wonder you live with your mom.’ He chortles. ‘Definitely Michael Scott’s love child.’

‘OOOH!’ says Kelly, clapping with her hands high in the air. Looks like she’s forgotten where her loyalties lie, because she’s loving the drama.

Ryan’s sitting in the corner with his arms crossed, smirking and nodding. ‘You’ve got no idea,’ he says, with a knowing chuckle. Like he’s an evil genius with access to some greater wisdom that gives him power over their dominion.

He’s up to something. He needs to get a hold of this before something genuinely bad happens.

‘Hey, maybe we could talk about something else. Food won’t be long,’ he says. ‘Could you guys make room for everything?’  Andy, why don’t you pick some new music.’ He gives him a sympathetic smile. Maybe the pair of them could rustle up a posse. Any ship in a storm.

***  

She glares at Ryan because that was mean. She also glares at Roy, because he’s really drunk, and this is going the way it always goes when he’s really drunk. She needs to get them out of here as soon as possible, because she knows what Real Roy actually thinks about Andy and Ryan and experience tells her people won’t like how Real Roy gets with people he doesn’t like, when he gets really drunk.

Maybe because she feels bad for him, maybe to give Roy a message, she turns to her other side and gives Andy a hug. ‘Hey, Andy… it’ll be a great apartment, though!’ She gives him an encouraging smile. ‘We’ll all be jealous. We’ll all come visit.’

Sometimes she looks at him… the way he handles being the butt of everyone’s jokes. It’s like he’s that kid who’s spent his whole life being laughed at and bullied, but he’s desperate to be part of the gang so he has to pretend he enjoys it. He just isn’t very convincing. Maybe he’s kind of absurd but he’s not a bad guy, really. And there’s something to be said for a person who’s willing to make a fool of themselves to keep the party going.

Ryan isn’t getting a hug. He deserved it.

When she turns back, Roy’s glaring at her. Of course he wants her to know he’s pissed about her hugging Andy, but she just glares back at him. ‘When we’ve eaten, I’m gonna call us a cab,’ she tells him quietly but firmly. He gets paranoid when he’s this drunk. He gets all, ‘You lookin’ at me?’ Or the old favourite: ‘You think you’re better than me, huh?’

‘I’ll come to your place and we’ll watch a movie,’ she tells him firmly. It’s time to cut and run, because it doesn’t take much provocation.

‘Aw, no way,’ he laughs and throws his arms round her. ‘This is fun! I’m just warming up… really getting to know everyone. Like I said I would, babe.’ He plants a kiss on her temple. ‘Pammy, we are not baling on this party.’

Oh.