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It's Saturday afternoon, and Karen doesn't know what Jim is doing. It's not like they had plans or anything, and Karen's not the kind of girl to want her boyfriend to check in with her every time he breathes, but they've been seeing each other for a couple months now, and it seems to her that she should have some idea of what he does on the weekends when he's not with her; that she should know Saturday afternoon if she's going to see him Saturday night.
She slept in, so she's still in her pajamas at the kitchen table, an empty cereal bowl in front of her. She thinks maybe she should call him, see if he wants to hang out later, but even this feels too much like checking up to her, and she frowns at what that implies.
She said she thought they were doing better than ever, and she thinks that she meant it; sometimes, she believes that with all of her being. Jim's such a good guy; he's such a good guy for her. He makes her feel at ease; he makes her feel comfortable to be silly and innocent. But other times, it feels like this isn't enough to make up for all the rest of it, and the only reason that she's pretending it is is because she fucking moved here for him. And it hurt her pride to admit that even when things were still new and good; it hurts even more when it’s starting to look like she might have taken such a stupid risk for nothing.
She looks at the clock: 12:14. Jim's probably up by now; he rarely ever sleeps passed ten.
Jim is the kind of man she wants to be with. But the person this relationship is turning her into is not the kind of woman she wants to be.
She makes herself pick up the phone.
Jim arrives for dinner a little after six. Karen had a hard time deciding what to make, if anything. When she lets him in, he tells her the lasagna smells good.
Over dinner, she's visibly nervous, fidgeting with her clothes and laughing too loudly, and she knows he can tell something is wrong. But he doesn't say anything about it, and ultimately that is what keeps her from chickening out.
"Jim," she says to him as she clears their plates, "I think there's something I want to say."
She's glad she can't see his face as she puts the dishes in the sink. She's so afraid she might see relief flash in his eyes.
He doesn't respond until she sits down across from him again. He takes her hand in his and says, trying to sound flippant, "What's up?"
"I don't think I can do this anymore. I'm sorry."
And he protests, as she expected. She's not trying to sell him short here, and she tells him as much. She tells him that she knows he's been trying and she knows that he cares about her.
"I don't get it, then," he says, and he does sound genuinely upset, which maybe she didn't expect as much.
"Do you like having to pretend like you're not friends with Pam when I'm around? Do you like having to constantly assure me that there's nothing going on? Because I certainly don't, but I can't get past it."
"Karen, I've told you--"
"I know you've told me," she interrupts, trying not to sound frustrated, trying not to feel like she's talking to a child. "And I don't know if it's my fault or your fault or her fault, but I can't get over it. I don't want to be in a relationship where you're constantly trying to win back my trust or prove yourself to me. I don't want to be in a relationship where it's so much work."
Jim looks down at his hands, now clasped together in front of him. He doesn't look up when he says, "I love you."
They've never said that to each other before, and it's a surprise to hear. She thinks maybe she loves him, or that she could love him if he let her, and for a split second she is terrified that she's going to cave, that she's going to take it all back. And when he looks up to meet her eyes, she almost does.
But she can't say it back to him, because the idea of saying it back to him makes her feel like a fool. So instead she just says, "Jim."
He just kind of nods, and her heart breaks a little. Because she's sure he thinks he means it; maybe he does mean it, but not the way she wants him to. And it makes her feel so broken, she wants to lash out at him: for letting her come to Scranton, for making her feel second-rate. But she doesn't want to make him feel like the bad guy, because he's not. He's such a good guy, and she's a grown woman capable of making her own decisions.
"I'm really sorry. I just don't think this is good for either of us."
He nods again and stands. When he walks by her, he bends to kiss her cheek and whispers, "I'm sorry."
It doesn't hit her until the next morning that maybe she's made a huge mistake. She starts to panic a little, thinking about Scranton, and how Jim's really the only person she knows here. She calls her mother and that helps a little; she calls her friend Kara from Stamford and that helps a little more. But her house is empty in a way that's suffocating, and his things are still littered about her bedroom, and she desperately doesn't want to be alone.
It's another shameful fact that the only other person she is remotely close to in this town is Pam. She wonders how weird and pathetic it would be, to call Pam. She wonders if it would just make it worse; make her feel angry and foolish.
She goes to her kitchen and pulls out a bottle of Absolut. She takes it and a shot glass into the living room and spends the next several hours watching the Game Show Network.
By five she is more than a little drunk. She just broke up with her boyfriend, she doesn't have any friends in this town, and she is alone and drunk before the sun has set. So while this might sound like a terrible idea when she's sober, she picks up the phone and calls Pam.
If Pam is at all hopeful or relieved when Karen tells her she and Jim are over, she at least has the decency not to let it come through in her voice. When Karen asks her to come over, Pam is clearly uncomfortable, but Karen knew she would be too nice to say no.
Which is the problem with Pam, really. Karen would like to hate Pam-- certainly, she has every right to hate Pam--but she doesn't. She thinks that under different circumstances, she and Pam could be friends. And she knows that it's pathetic to cling to this idea, but she thinks it’s okay to give herself a free pass on that for at least a day or two.
When the doorbell rings, Karen finds Pam standing awkwardly on the front stoop. She laughs at how ridiculous it is that the reason she broke up with her boyfriend is standing on her stoop, presumably to make her feel better about breaking up with said boyfriend, and Pam's eyes widen. She says, "Listen, Karen, it's okay if you changed your mind."
"No, no, come in, come in," Karen says, still smiling a little. She herds Pam into the living room, where Pam stands by the couch without taking her coat off.
"Relax, I'm not going to bite. Or yell."
Pam's face flushes bright red, but she takes her coat off and sits down.
"So, uh, do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Karen says, honestly. "I'm sure you can guess, anyway."
"Karen." Pam frowns.
"No, it's fine, whatever. I just wanted someone to watch Lingo with me."
Pam's brow furrows, even as she tries on a smile. She takes the vodka from the floor, pours herself a shot, and settles more comfortably on the couch.
And it stays a little weird and awkward, but they manage to make each other laugh a few times, and Pam is really good at Lingo. When she leaves a couple hours later, Karen is thankful to have had her.
Jim is polite to her at work when they're forced to interact, but for the most part he seems to avoid her. Sometimes she'll catch him looking at her, and she can't tell what his eyes are saying. It's hard, certainly, but not quite as hard as she expected.
Until, that is, she notices that he has been acting this way with Pam, too, and once she makes this connection, she is maybe angrier than she ever was when they were dating.
After lunch one afternoon, a little over two weeks since that night in her kitchen, she pulls him into the breakroom.
"I'm not made of glass," she tells him, sounding angrier than she'd intended. She worries that maybe it wasn't best to talk about this at work, but where else would they talk about it, now?
"What?"
"You don't have to tiptoe around me. We can be friends."
"Oh." And she can tell he feels dumb the second he says it, because he quickly follows up with, "I mean, yeah, of course. I know."
"Do you? Because I'm not Pam, Jim."
He looks disappointed in her when she says that. It reminds her of when they were together and this was the kind of talk they had more than she'd be willing to admit. For a second she misses him intensely and feels pathetic for it. He shakes his head and walks out without saying anything. She counts to three to stop herself from crying or charging after him, then buys herself a soda.
It gets easier, after that. Jim stays mad at her for the rest of the week, but on Monday he makes a point to say hi to her when he gets in, and on Wednesday he makes her laugh while she's waiting for her lunch to heat in the microwave.
She keeps waiting for something to happen with him and Pam, but two months later and there's nothing going on, as far as she can tell. Maybe it's because of her, but she doubts it. She thought she'd feel relieved, but instead she feels vindicated for having broken up with him.
She considers moving, but that feels too much like defeat--too much like admitting she was wrong. So she starts investing herself in making a life here: She goes out to bars; she tries to be friendly with her coworkers; she signs up for a kick-boxing class.
It's only mildly weird between her and Jim now, and Pam seems to be finally convinced that Karen's not secretly plotting revenge, so one Friday she stops by the reception desk on her way out and asks, "What are you doing tonight?"
"Uh, oh. Nothing?"
"Did you want to do something? Maybe grab a drink or catch a movie?"
Karen drives, which works out for the best because at Chili's Pam orders a margarita and loosens up just enough so that it's not awkward anymore. As they eat they peruse the paper's movie listings. Apparently the local theater is doing a midnight showing of The Princess Bride.
"Oh my god!" Pam exclaims, shaking the paper in Karen's direction.
"I have no idea what you're shaking at me."
Pam grins like she is about to deliver upon Karen the best news she has ever heard. "Tonight. Twelve o'clock. Princess Bride."
Karen grins back. "We are totally going."
"Of course we are!" Pam says, sounding triumphant.
After that, they start getting together after work a few times a week. Pam will shoot Karen an email asking if she wants to get dinner later, or Karen will lean against the reception desk and mention a movie she's been wanting to see, and it's easy.
At some point, it starts being normal for Pam to spend her Saturday nights on Karen's couch. It reminds Karen of when she was in high school, staying up until three in the morning with her friends, watching MTV and eating ice cream. Except now it’s watching DVDs of Arrested Development and eating ice cream
After a few weeks, Pam buys a toothbrush to leave at Karen’s so she can stop brushing her teeth with her finger on those late Sunday mornings, and Karen finally stops feeling so goddamn alone all the time.
"Do you think it's weird for Jim, us being friends?" Pam asks suddenly, in the middle of Family Feud. The topic is "Things You Shouldn't Say to the Bride".
"No offense to Jim, because he's a good guy and everything," Karen says, not looking away from the TV, "but I don't really give a fuck what he thinks just yet."
"So yes, then."
Karen looks over and sees her smiling, just a little.
"So, hey."
"Oh, hey," she says, looking up at him from her magazine a little surprised; she hadn't heard him come in.
"Listen," Jim starts, looking a little nervous, "I was wondering if it would be cool if me, you, and Pam went out tonight, after work."
She laughs, kind of. "I don't know."
He frowns a little, looking both confused and disappointed. "I was kind of hoping we could start hanging out again. And you and Pam seem to be going out a lot lately, so--"
She cuts him off: "Yeah, but you haven't gone out with her once."
"What?"
"It's been five months, Halpert. I appreciate what you're doing, but you don't have to prove anything."
"I'm not trying to prove anything."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Jesus Christ, Karen, that's not what it's about." He's not angry, just tired. Defeated. She can't figure out why he's still trying to placate her, and she’s sorry she started this conversation. She is sick of having this conversation. She can't believe they are having it even now, with all that’s happened.
So she softens, and she says, "Hey, I'm sorry. We can go out tonight, the three of us. I'm sorry."
"Forget it," he says, not meeting her eyes. He turns and leaves before she can say anything else.
"I told Jim to ask you out. Sort of."
"What? Why would you-- What?"
"What? I thought you would-- What?"
Karen replays that exchange in her head and laughs a little. But Pam looks deadly serious, eyes wide and a little frightened.
"Why would you do that?"
"I thought you'd want him too?" Karen asks, a little incredulous.
"Wouldn't that be weird?"
"Um, abso-fucking-lutely. But I'm a big girl; I'd get over it."
"What did he say?"
"He got kind of mad," she admits. "I don't think he likes me bringing it up--reminds him of that one time he wasn't a boy scout, you know?"
Pam looks like she's maybe about to be violently ill.
"Hey," she says gently, putting her hand on Pam's arm. "I thought you'd want him to. Don't you?"
Pam closes her eyes. She tastes the cheap beer in the back of her throat. "I don't know."
"You don't know," Karen repeats, quietly. Then, louder: "You don't know?"
"It's weird now," Pam says, hoping her answer will satisfy Karen. "There's all this expectation and absolutely no action, and the whole thing is just starting to seem kind of over-hyped."
Karen creases her brow, unsure if she wants to laugh or strangle the woman sitting next to her. She says, flatly, "Over-hyped."
Pam looks sheepish. "There's no way the man I imagine Jim to be can possibly be real. I've been pining over a man that I'm relatively sure doesn't exist."
"Well, alright," Karen says, nodding. She can relate to that well enough, she supposes. She tries to keep from wondering how things might have been different if she knew months ago that Pam felt that way--if Jim knew.
"And, you know," Pam starts, quieter and looking not quite at Karen, her eyes fixed slightly to the left of Karen's head, "I don't want to mess things up with me and you."
Karen stops thinking about Jim. She smiles. "Bros before hos?"
"Something like that." Seeing Karen smile, Pam relaxes. She feels comfortable enough to ask, "Oh god, what am I going to say if he tries to ask me out?"
Karen shrugs. "I don't know, it can't hurt to give it a go, can it?"
Pam considers this, and how she hasn't talked to Jim for more than ten minutes at a time in months. She can't remember more than a handful of times they’ve laughed together since he moved back to Scranton. She nods noncommittally and changes the subject. Karen doesn't seem to mind.
Jim waits two weeks to ask Pam out. Karen suspects this is to make her feel like she didn't have anything to do with it. Before he does it, he leans against her desk and asks if she's going to be okay. She frowns at him, even though she knows he's just trying to look out for her, and says, "Come on, you should know me better than that."
Still, it's weird. She thought it would feel more like closure. She's not sure what it feels like.
Pam calls her that night at 5:20. She must have called as soon as she got in the door.
"Is it going to be too weird for you to talk about this?" Pam asks.
"I don't know. Maybe, but probably not." Karen can feel Pam's hesitation over the phone wires, so she continues, "But really, come on, you have to tell me what happened."
Pam tells her that he took her out for lunch, and the moment they left the building she knew he was going to ask her. He managed to wait until they pulled into the parking lot of Burger King but not until they got out of the car. They spent their whole lunch break talking with their seatbelts still on, and she was so hungry but she didn't have the heart to make him stop talking so she could get a Whopper. She told him that she wasn't sure how she felt about him, but he kept pressing and pressing until finally she agreed to go out with him for dinner. Like, a date. And she was supposed to be getting ready for it right now, because he was coming to pick her up at 6 o'clock.
This all comes out in a rush, and Karen laughs at how frazzled and out-of-breath Pam sounds.
"It's not funny! I'm freaking out!"
"It's just Jim. Worst-case scenario, he wants to start picking out baby names." Pam groans. Karen continues, "Oh, oh, or he already has them picked out and just wants your opinion."
"Oh my god, Karen, you have to come with me."
"And ruin the proposal?"
"Now you're just being cruel."
Still smiling, she relents. "Seriously, it's going to be fine. You guys are going to talk, and you like each other, so that shouldn't be too bad. Maybe he’ll cross into some uncomfortable territory, but you two have been sitting on this for so long that it will be a relief when you get it sorted out, either way."
"You don't hate me, do you?" Pam asks, suddenly. Karen is so surprised, she doesn't answer right away. "Oh god, you do, don't you?"
Karen laughs again. This could all be really awkward if Pam wasn't being so hilarious, and Karen loves her for it. "Don't be stupid. Your discomfort alone is making this whole thing worth my while."
"Ugh. Okay, I have to get ready, but promise me you'll call around 7 with some emergency, in case I need a way out."
"You're such a wuss."
"Promise!"
"Okay, okay. Good luck!"
"I doubt your sincerity, but I'll call you tonight."
Karen calls dutifully at 7:02. She gets transferred to voicemail after three rings. She doesn't leave a message.
She thinks about calling back but goes back to her book instead. She rereads the same paragraph three times before she gives up and flips on the TV.
Suddenly she's waking up and it's 2:30 in the morning. There's an infomercial on and her neck hurts from sleeping on the couch.
She has a text message from Pam: "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Sorry!"
Karen considers checking the time the message was sent but decides against it. She deletes it so she can't be tempted later.
She moves to her bed but has a hard time getting back to sleep.
On Saturdays she has kickboxing at 11. She wakes up at 9:30 and gets there a little early. She and this guy in her class, Aaron, have sort of a standing appointment to hang out in the gym's little convenience store and not buy anything before class starts. It happened once by accident--they were both early with time to kill--and they never said anything about doing it again, but they both keep showing up fifteen minutes early before every class. She's been wanting to ask him to be her sparing partner, but she's already paired up with this girl Kristin and she doesn't want to be rude.
She stayed up the night before wondering if Pam went home with Jim, trying to imagine it in her head. She already knows what Jim looks like naked, so that was easy enough. When she tried to picture Pam naked, she couldn't get passed what she imagined to be the milky expanse of Pam's back.
Aaron offers to buy her a Vitamin Water as he pulls one out of the cooler for himself. She blurts, "Do you want to do something tonight?"
Aaron smiles. "Man, if I knew you'd react that way, I would have bought you gum or something weeks ago."
Pam calls early in the afternoon. Karen almost doesn't answer, but then she realizes she's being stupid. She picks up on the fifth ring, right before it goes to voicemail.
"Karen," Pam breaths, relieved. "I thought maybe I'd forgotten what time your class ended."
"So..."
"Oh! Oh my god, Karen. I don't even know."
Pam sounds excited and flustered. Karen's stomach twists. She thought she'd be okay with this; she doesn't understand why she suddenly feels so anxious.
"You're going to have to give me a little more than that," she prompts.
Pam sighs, "Okay. So, we went to dinner. Duh, you already knew that. And I told him, yeah, half a day wasn't really enough time for me to come to any conclusions. I told him maybe we should just try to be friends again."
"What did he say?"
"I don't know, he took it well enough. I mean, he seemed disappointed, but he dropped it after that and we had a really nice night. He came back to my place after dinner and we talked until like three in the morning."
"About...?"
"Just catching up; we haven't really talked in ages. It was nice." Pam pauses. Sounding kind of embarrassed, she says, "I let him kiss me goodnight."
Karen frowns. Pam adds, quickly, "No tongue, though! Very chaste!" and that makes her smile, just a little, in spite of herself.
"When I got your text, I'd imagined you were in or about to be in a state of undress." It's easier, if she makes it a tease.
"Karen!" Pam sounds scandalized.
"So, what do you think?"
"I don't know. I don't want to lead him on, you know? But it was so nice spending time with him. I don't want it to go back to the way it was."
"You think you're leading him on?" Karen presses.
"Probably? I'm not--" Her voice lowers, just a little, "I'm not 100% into it."
"What percent would you say that you are into it, then?" She tries not to sound too interested in the answer.
Pam laughs. It sounds clipped. "I don't know."
Karen doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. It's a little uncomfortable. Finally Pam says, "So anyway. Did you want to do something tonight? I've got a craving for some orange chicken."
"Oh, um, actually." Karen twists her hair around her finger, suddenly feeling silly. "I sort of have a date tonight? With that guy, Aaron?"
"Oh! Oh." Pam seems to falter for a second, then regains her footing. "That's great! Right?"
Karen smiles slightly. "Well, I guess I'll find out."
It is pretty great. Aaron is funny and warm, and they find out about a half hour into their meal that they have a shared love of obscure late 80’s arcade games. They spend an inordinate amount of time talking about the game Toobin'.
She met him at the restaurant, so after their meal they are headed to separate cars. She did this on purpose. He walks with her to her little Neon and they lean against the trunk, talking. She knows he's waiting for her to say something, that he's hoping she'll suggest something else for them to do. Maybe he wants her to invite him back to her place. They're talking about how much they love/hate Michael Bay, and she looks him over in the orange light of the streetlamps. He's handsome. When they first met, she thought he looked a bit like Jim, but she doesn't think so anymore. They're standing pretty close to each other, and she knows this could go somewhere. Something could happen here.
Aaron is expanding on how he thinks it's really creepy any time Liv Tyler is in one of her dad's videos, and how also, he's not sure it's that romantic to kiss someone's eyes. Karen has had this exact same conversation with Pam. She bites her lip. She knows suddenly and surely that even though she’s having a great time, she doesn't want Aaron. Not like he probably wants her.
"Hey, this is going to sound totally douchey, and I'm probably going to embarrass myself," she says, interrupting him. There's a flash of recognition in his eyes, and she thinks maybe he knows what's coming. That doesn't really make her feel any less awkward. "I'm having a really good time."
"But..."
She smiles, sheepish. "Yeah."
"It's okay." He smiles, and it doesn't look like he's faking it. She likes that. "Too soon?"
For a second she doesn't know what that means, but then she remembers that weeks ago she mentioned Jim, briefly, when Aaron asked her why she signed up for the class. She likes that, too, that he remembered--what that says about the kind of person he is--but she hates that it sets her up with such an easy lie, and that she's not above using it. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'd still like to hang out and stuff, if that's cool. You seem like one of the good guys. And also, I’d love to kick your ass at Toobin'."
"If you can find a machine, then you're on."
When they part ways a few minutes later, they make some vague plans about getting together with some of his friends next weekend for drinks. She thinks maybe she'll go.
She waits until Aaron turns left at an intersection where she turns right before she calls Pam.
"Early night, eh?" Pam teases. "Tell me you didn't take your clothes off already."
"Pamela Beesly, I am a woman of modesty and virtue."
"You're naked right now, aren't you?"
There's something in Pam's voice that Karen can't quite place, but it makes her throat a little dry. Before she can think about that too hard, she says, “Hardly. I'm driving home, alone."
"Virtuous, indeed." She sounds normal again. Karen thinks she must have imagined it. "Tell me, what's the soonest you ever let someone in your pants?"
Karen laughs, a little embarrassed but also glad that the answer isn't related to Jim. "Uh, six hours?"
Pam gives her one of those quick, loud laughs that she reserves for things that pleasantly surprise her. "Karen!"
"I mean, it was a first date, it wasn't someone I picked up in a bar or something."
"Hey, where are you?"
"About ten minutes from my house, why?"
"You should turn around and come over here."
Karen sighs dramatically. "Why don't you come over here?"
"You're already in the car! You're not even 'here' yet for me to come to. Besides--I mean, I know you just ate and everything--but I've got left over Chinese food."
Karen's already turned the car around. "Really? You're trying to woo me with things that you know I won't want? That's just lazy."
"Whatever, when it's midnight and we're a little drunk, I promise you are going to want that chicken."
"We're drinking?"
"I don't know; I'm trying to make it more appealing. Would you just come over here already? Before you're already at your house and I really can't convince you?"
Karen's smile widens. "Fine, fine. I'll be there in 20."
Pam's in her pajamas when Karen gets there, which Karen thinks is sort of unfair. She's wearing heels and a skirt, and she is extremely envious of the flannel pants Pam's wearing. She says as much.
"Well you're in luck, my friend," Pam says, heading out of the living room and into the bedroom. Karen follows without having to be told.
She sits on Pam's bed as Pam roots through the bottom drawer of her dresser. Karen's never been in Pam's bedroom before. It's clean and sparse. Still, there are little touches of Pam around the room: a teddy bear nestled between two oversized pillows, an old wooden jewelry box with faded stickers on it, an open sketch book on the nightstand littered with a pile of colored pencils. Karen starts, distracted, when Pam asks, "Do you want pants or shorts?"
"Um, pants."
Pam thrusts a pair of cotton pants with muffins on them into Karen’s hands. Karen nods her thanks, and there's an awkward moment where neither of them moves. Maybe she's supposed to go to the bathroom to change? Or maybe Pam's one of those girls who changes in front of her girlfriends. Karen thinks about that, getting an image of herself half-naked in front of Pam. Her face warms as she blushes, and it's not entirely unpleasant. She looks up to see if Pam noticed and finds Pam blushing herself. When they make eye contact, Pam smiles and ducks out of the room.
Karen changes and walks out into the living room. She finds Pam curled up on the couch, watching The Food Network and holding a cup in each hand.
"Double fisting? By yourself?"
Pam rolls her eyes and extends her arm to offer Karen a cup. Karen sniffs it. All she can smell is cranberry. "Did you even put any alcohol in this?"
"I swear to God, if you call me 'One-Drink Beesley....'"
Karen holds her free hand up defensively as she sits down next to Pam. "I would never dream."
They watch Throw Down with Bobby Flay in silence for a few minutes, sipping on their drinks intermittently, before Pam asks, "So what, he smells bad? He chews with his mouth open?"
"If either of those things are true, I didn't notice." Pam looks at her expectantly, so she continues. "I don't know, I had a really good time. But when we got to the part of the night where he was apt to start looking for a goodnight kiss, I felt... weird."
Pam nods with her straw between her lips. Then she says, "So, is it going to be totally weird at class now?"
"I don't think so. I mean, I told him I'd still be into hanging out, and we've got plans to go out with his friends next weekend, provided I don't flake out."
"Meeting his friends?" Pam's brow knits. Karen is pretty sure it's theatrics. "Sounds pretty serious."
"Shut up. Do you want to come with?"
"And be a human shield?"
"I don't know if 'shield' is the right word. Maybe 'billboard proclaiming this isn't a date.'"
"You gonna buy my drinks?"
"I think that would make it a date."
Pam takes a slow sip of her drink, looking back at the TV. Karen worries that maybe she just crossed some line she didn't know they had, but finally Pam says, "Yeah, alright. What time?"
Karen tells her, and then they talk about other things. It only feels tense for a few more minutes, until Pam starts talking to the TV, giving Bobby Flay a hard time about his secret weapon always being flavor. It's a familiar joke, and Karen lets herself laugh at it, and it's fine.
Karen wakes up on Pam's couch a little before noon. Pam might make bitch drinks, but Karen had about eight of them in quick succession, so she feels pretty well hung over. She can hear Pam in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. If she's making coffee, too, Karen thinks she could marry her.
She gets up and wanders into the kitchen. When she sits at the table, Pam slides a cup of black in front of her.
"You are my favorite person on the entire planet," Karen says, and Pam smiles. "How are you not dying?"
"My drinks were all cranberry after the fourth one."
Karen glowers. "Evil. I thought something fishy was going on."
"Hey, you're the one who kept asking for more, missy. And look, I'm making you breakfast."
"Point."
They share the room in amicable silence as Pam finishes frying their eggs.
"So," Pam says, putting the plates on the table and taking a seat across from Karen, "I didn't tell you yesterday, but Jim called me."
"Oh?"
Pam pushes her eggs around her plate, "He wanted to hang out. I told him I didn't want to lead him on, and he got off the phone pretty quick after that."
"So you're really sure you're not into him?"
"I mean, he's just--" She frowns, takes a bite of her eggs. She seems to be considering what to say as she chews. "Things were a lot different a year ago, and so much has happened. It just feels, I don't know. It doesn't seem like something I want, so much."
Karen nods. She doesn't really know what to say about that. She feels kind of guilty for feeling relieved.
"Do you think I should call him?"
She frowns. "I don't know. Why?"
"I don't want to just leave it like that. With him feeling rejected and us not talking."
"You don't know that you're not talking."
"Yeah." Pam worries her lip. "If I called him, I would know."
Karen doesn't really want Pam to call Jim. She feels like she can't say that, though. She already told Pam she was cool if something happened between them. She can't say that and then give her self-serving advice, she feels. So she doesn't say anything.
"I'm sorry," Pam says. "I don't mean to keep talking about this with you, I know it's weird. It's just, you know."
Karen smiles reassuringly, because she does know, and she likes that they're close enough that Pam wants to talk about these things with her instead of someone else. But she goes home after breakfast.
She's been trying to figure out the real reason Pam's not interested in Jim. Given what she now knows about their history, it seems bizarre to her that Pam would suddenly not be into it, just like that. Sure, Pam's tried to explain it, but all of her reasons ring a bit hollow to Karen. She's been asking about it subtly, being careful not to prod. She's been watching them together at work, laughing and scheming like--she's been told--they used to, and she doesn't quite get it.
Jim is at Pam's desk, shaking some jellybeans around in his fisted hand, and Karen is watching them out of the corner of her eye as she leans against the glass outside of Michael's office, waiting for him to get off the phone with Jan.
Jim is leaning toward Pam conspiratorially, and Pam is laughing at whatever he's saying. Karen can hear bits and pieces, and it sounds like they're talking about Dwight. Pam keeps looking over Jim's shoulder to smile at Karen, and Karen pulls her lips into an exaggerated frown. Eventually Pam pulls a face, making Karen break and giggle, and Jim finally notices that he hasn't had Pam's undivided attention. He turns to look at her, and he smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Pam is smiling at her fully, her eyes twinkling in triumph, and she keeps looking over at Karen as she continues talking to Jim.
And suddenly, Karen gets it.
Later in the afternoon, once her heart slows to its normal pace, she asks Pam if she wants to go out for drinks after work. Jim overhears and invites himself along. They've all hung out together a few times recently, and it's been normal; fun, even. It would be weird for her to suddenly not want him to come, so she doesn't say anything. Then Kevin hears Jim talking about it, and the next thing she knows the entire office is coming along, which is not exactly the way she'd envisioned her evening.
Now they're all at Poor Richard's, three drinks in. Admittedly, she's having a pretty good time. She's trying not to read into every little thing Pam says or does, and she's doing a pretty good job of it, except that Pam, sitting across from her in the booth, keeps bumping her foot against Karen's under the table and smiling. Karen is relatively sure that means something. It has to, right?
She's surprised by how suddenly she wants it to mean something. If she's honest with herself, she can admit that this idea has been in the back of her head for a while, but she's never let herself think too much about it because it always seemed so unlikely. It was one of those things she could think about in bed at night, sometimes, and feel just a little guilty for having thought it the next morning, but then forget all about it for days.
But suddenly, she can't stop thinking about it. It seems so obvious. Why shouldn't she want Pam?
If she's even more honest, this explains a lot about the way she's been reacting to the Jim-and-Pam thing.
Creed, two beers and three shots ahead of everyone else, is describing how to make a napalm flamethrower, and Karen doesn't know if he's full of crap or if she should be really, really creeped out. Jim keeps egging him on, throwing horrified looks at Karen and Pam every time Creed says just about anything.
By the fifth drink, Jim is telling them about his brief stint in Boy Scouts, and how the only thing he still remembers from his days in the woods is how to tie a figure eight knot. At this, Creed stands up excitedly and says, "Hang on, I've got some rope in my car," before dashing out of the bar.
"Now why do you think he's got rope in his car?" Jim asks, leaning into Pam a little and smiling.
"Doesn't he own pigs or something?" Karen asks, looking at where Jim's arm is resting lightly against Pam's. She vaguely remembers Creed saying something about making his own bacon.
Jim whoops. "One, I hope to God he owns pigs. Two, what on Earth would that have to do with the rope in his car?"
Karen shrugs. She feels Pam's foot tapping against hers in a steady rhythm. She looks at Pam questioningly, and Pam shrugs and taps faster, smiling.
"I bet he's going to come back in here and teach you how to hog-tie."
"Karen Filipelli, I do believe you are setting me up for disappointment."
"Okay, move!" Pam says suddenly, giving Jim a playful push. "I have to pee!"
"Wait, I'll come with you." She doesn't really want to break the seal just yet, but this is the first chance she's gotten to be alone with Pam all night. She starts to follow after her, then turns around and tells Jim, "You do not let him start the demonstration until we get back, understood?"
He gives her a little salute. "Aye, aye."
She punches his arm and hurries to catch up with Pam.
When she gets to the bathroom, she can hear Pam already peeing in the stall. She is drunk enough that this feels extremely intimate, even though she's heard Pam pee plenty of times before and never given it a second thought. It's a one stall bathroom, so she leans against the tiled wall, waiting.
Pam smiles when she opens the door and sees Karen, braced against the wall with her eyes closed, her hands shoved into her pockets. She creeps over to her quietly, hoping she can get close enough to startle her before she opens her eyes. She gets about three steps away before Karen opens her eyes, sees Pam frozen mid-stride, and says, "What are you doing?"
"I was going to scare you." She frowns a little, her bottom lip stuck out in exaggeration. Her left foot is still hovering about six inches off the ground. It's completely adorable. "Way to ruin it."
Karen thinks, "She hasn't washed her hands yet," but then decides she doesn't care and closes the space between them and kisses Pam, pushing Pam backward until her back is against the wall of the bathroom stall, and Pam isn't pulling away, she's kissing Karen back, and Karen gives herself a second to think, “Thank god," before she doesn't think about anything other than the warmth of the body against her, the lips moving against her own.
When they part, Karen rests her forehead against Pam's, and they're both laughing, although she's not entirely sure why.
"I haven't washed my hands!" Pam says, and waves them in the air for effect. Karen backs up to let Pam get to the sink. She finds Karen standing very close to her as she dries off, staring at her hands.
"Yes?" she asks, throwing the paper towel away.
"Now you've washed them," Karen says, and looks at her expectantly.
She nods. "Now I have."
Karen doesn't frown, but Pam can tell by the slight crinkle in her brow that she wants to. Pam wants to kiss her again, but they're in a bathroom at a bar, which is sort of gross, and really, someone from work could walk in and she doesn't want to deal with that just now. So she gives Karen's hand a squeeze and doesn’t let go as they walk back to the table.
Jim gives them a look when they sit down, but he doesn't say anything. He gets up so Pam can sit back in the corner, but Creed just scoots over, leaving Karen to sit on the outside. Karen wishes they were alone.
"Filipelli," Jim says, distracting her. He sounds excited. "Creed is going to teach us how to hog-tie."
By 1:30 it's just her, Jim, and Pam. She's been trying to share a look with Pam all night, a look that says, "I wish we were still making out in the bathroom." Pam, however, is just smiling at her. It's a genuine, glowing smile, but it doesn't say, "I'd like to see you naked."
"So, do you guys want to split a cab?" Jim asks, downing the last of his beer.
Karen knows it makes sense for them to split a cab, especially since she and Jim live so close together. She says, "Sure. Pam, you could stay at my place if you want."
Pam is sipping at her beer, the glass obscuring most of her face. But her eyes, peeking out over the rim, go wide, just for a second. Karen almost misses it, it happens so fast, but then Pam is saying, "Yeah, that sounds good."
Karen tries not to look too excited.
In the cab, she is sitting with Jim to her left, Pam to her right. Each of her knees is bumping against someone else's. She thinks about the possibility that she will have slept with both of them, and it's sort of funny. She giggles.
"What?" Jim asks. His head is resting against the window, but he's turned enough that he can look at her out of the corner of his eye. She shrugs helplessly. He snorts but doesn't press it.
At Karen's, she and Pam stumble to the apartment together, leaning on each other for balance. They wave goodbye to Jim before they enter the house, watching the cab take off down the street.
"I'm drunk," Pam says as she flops on the couch. "Get me some blankets."
Instead, Karen sits next to her and runs her hand up Pam's thigh. Pam doesn't stop her, just breathes in sharply, so Karen takes that as a sign to continue. She leans in and very carefully kisses the side of Pam's mouth, then backs up. Pam is just looking at her, so Karen kisses her again, demandingly this time, and then Pam kisses her back, her hands coming up to Karen's waist.
"You could sleep in the bed, if you wanted."
"Are you going to sleep on the couch?"
"Uh." Karen frowns.
Pam smiles. "Oh, please. Like I really thought you were that much of a gentleman."
She grabs Karen's hand and pulls her toward the bedroom. Once there, she roots through the bottom drawer of Karen's dresser and helps herself to some pajamas, then runs to the bathroom to change. While she's gone, Karen slips out of her pants and throws on a t-shirt. She wonders briefly if she should wait for Pam before getting into bed, but she's suddenly so very tired, so she slides between the covers without waiting.
Karen wakes up when Pam gets into bed next to her. There's about a foot between them, and Karen wonders if she should close the distance. Then Pam is rolling over and snaking an arm around her waist, resting her head on her shoulder.
"Goodnight, Karen," Pam mumbles into Karen's t-shirt.
Karen carefully puts her arm around Pam. When Pam doesn't shake her off, she says, "'night, Pam."
In the morning, Karen wakes up to an empty bed. She pulls on some sweats and wanders out into the kitchen, where Pam is making pancakes.
"Why are you always the one making breakfast?" she asks, because it's easy.
Pam turns at the sound of her voice and smiles, her eyes dancing. "I've often wondered that myself."
Karen bumps her out of the way with her hip and takes over the pancakes while Pam sets the plates out. Over breakfast they talk about Creed with their legs pressed together under the table. After, Pam says something about meeting her mom for lunch later. Karen walks her to the door, where they stand awkwardly until Pam gives Karen a hug and promises to call her later. Karen wants to kiss her goodbye, but she waits too long to make her move and Pam is already gone, halfway down the sidewalk.
The first time they have sex, it's a bit awkward. Beforehand, they go out to dinner at this Italian place Karen really likes, and Pam gets the feeling that maybe it's a date. They're not calling it a date, and they haven't really talked about the other night, but Karen pulls out Pam's chair for her and insists on getting the bill. She's also wearing a dress. Pam is relatively sure they're on a date.
Back at Karen's apartment, Karen keeps her heels on and pours them each a glass of wine. Pam can't stop tracing the plunge of Karen's neckline with her eyes, and she wonders if the other woman notices.
Still, they're leaning back into the couch, talking and laughing, and it's familiar. It's nice. She forgets she's supposed to be nervous and just enjoys the sound of Karen's voice as she tells her about how she used to go camping with her family in the Adirondacks. She's feeling sleepy from the wine, so she lets herself lean into Karen, just a little. Karen keeps on talking, but she moves her hand into Pam's lap, taking hold of Pam's hand and lacing their fingers together.
"Is this weird?" Karen asks, after she tells Pam about how she always wanted to gut the fish her father caught on Lake Champlain, but he wouldn't let her.
"That you wanted to play with fish guts? I mean, a little."
Karen sits up and turns to look at her. "No, I mean--" Her lips quirk, and her eyes look intense and maybe scared. "Is it okay if I kiss you?"
It's funny to Pam that she's asking; she didn't ask the other night, taking Pam by surprise, pushing her up against the wall. "Okay."
"'Okay?' Like, 'okay' I can kiss you, or 'okay', I just asked that and you don't know--" Pam cuts her off by kissing her, because now it's getting ridiculous. It's a quick kiss--sweet--and Pam gives Karen a shy smile when she pulls away. Karen grins and says, "Okay then."
They end up making out on the couch, Pam on her back and Karen all hands on top of her. Pam sighs, happy; it's been a while since someone's wanted her so much with such little complication. It's funny, that this should feel so easy. But it does, and she smiles, enjoying the weight of Karen's body over her own.
Then Karen's got her fingers running up the inside of Pam's thigh, under her skirt, and when they brush against the hem of Pam's underwear, that's when Pam realizes that this is probably actually going somewhere, and she starts to feel a little nervous. Karen's fingers glance over her, skimming over the cotton, and she doesn't want the fabric between her and Karen's touch.
It's not like she hasn't though about this before--because she has, a lot; at first only at night, feeling guilty and confused, and then with increasing frequency as the idea stopped seeming so foreign--but the reality is something a little different.
She grabs both of Karen's hands, pulling them up to her waist. Karen meets her eyes, looking about two seconds away from being worried. But she smiles, wanting to be reassuring and open, and waits.
"I've never done this before," Pam says quietly, turning her head to one side. Karen laughs and presses a kiss to her neck.
"I mean, yeah, I kind of figured that."
Pam grins, knowing Karen is giving her a hard time. "Much like I had figured that you had."
Between kisses down her neck, Karen says, "I am a well known lothario in the lesbian community, it's true."
The ease with which Karen says lesbian makes Pam feel even more aware of her lack of experience. She shifts and shimmies beneath Karen until she is mostly sitting up, Karen lying half on the couch, half on her legs.
"We don't have to go any farther than this if you don't want to. Or we can stop altogether," Karen says as she sits up, and Pam shoots her a look that clearly implies that she knows that, thank you very much, and that's not the problem. Karen blushes a little, allowing herself to know what Pam meant by this.
"How do I, you know?" Now Pam is blushing, too.
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
"Um, oh. Well I could, ah, demonstrate."
This probably isn't the most romantic pillow-talk she's ever had, but still, Karen's words renew the throb between her legs. She nods and starts to scoot down again.
"Or we could use the bed," Karen says. She's smiling, but her eyes are dark and wanting.
Pam nods again, wearing her own look of want, and reaches out for Karen's hand. Karen laces her fingers between Pam's and stands. Smiling broadly, she leads Pam into the bedroom.