liked writing this one a lot, so soft, i love them
Pam hadn't talked to Karen all night. She had witnessed Jim's wary and ginger efforts and, still respectfully unsure of where she stood, she had watched on the sidelines as the two of them, as well as everyone else, became gradually more and more inebriated.
The day that Karen confronted her she had almost cried to Jim after work. She was drenched in guilt and there was a sense near perversion surrounding the matter. But when he noticed she was upset on the way out, he hugged her and suggested a night in for a movie. All she could say was thank you, his hug made everything feel better. She spent the following Sunday alone, however, which meant for her that it pointed indisputably at a phone call of apology to Karen. Only when the voicemail tone reached her did it occur how obtuse or vainglorious recompense in a phone call could appear coming from the woman who had caused the person on the other end all the heartbreak in the first place.
Pam supposed Karen's confidence did demonstrate the fact that she was still the Karen Pam knew before everything -Jim or no- which, though the interaction had been upsetting and she had felt horrible, it comforted her a little to know that Karen wasn't too damaged as to despairingly shut down completely. And it had been much easier not to stare after that, yes, but it didn't make the wondering (worrying?) any better.
And tonight as Karen noticed things less, Pam could do so more. Pam could tell how hard she was working to avoid the two of them, but whenever Jim said something to her, she reacted like herself again, her eyes focused and her smile reached them in the wrinkles that imparted genuine gladness. The camera was on the three of them for much of the night trying to pick up tension, but Pam didn't think she harbored any true jealousy towards Karen, she thought. And she truly tried to show it. Maybe the pity compensated. She felt safe enough to drink until she was dizzy, but not so much that she couldn't comprehensively remain in control of her surroundings.
Karen, on the other hand…
Pam grabbed her elbow as she stumbled on her way out the door. "Thanks smuch," Karen flashed her a smile and snaked her arm backwards to intertwine it with hers'. Obviously Pam's gut reaction was to gently disentangle herself.
But on second thought, Karen was so warm, and from this closeness Pam caught the redolent blueberry scent from the Darquiris that she insisted on continuously ordering even when everyone had moved to less alchemical drinks. And, yes, Karen probably wouldn't remember it later.
They were all shuffling outside disjointedly, Jim leading the party to Meredith's van who had driven them all and agreed to do so at the end of the night. Upon reaching it however, it was concluded that Meredith was hardly sober enough to drive a large, not altogether functioning vehicle containing nearly ten people. This led to an all-inclusive analysis of who was the least plastered of the group. "I think that I should drive because even though -even THOUGH- I do not hold my liquorrr well, I should DRIVE because have the best and most good hand to mouth coordination," Karen slurred to herself, or whoever was listening, beneath the not much more rational deliberation of everyone else. Pam, still on her arm, looked at her and chuckled. "I think you mean hand-eye coordination." Jim had just vacated the group upon being ruled out and he interjected wholeheartedly, "No, no, Pam, she definitely means hand to mouth coordination. She is extra-ordinarily talented at throwing and catching popcorn in her mouth. And is very finically wise…like a financial owl." He stressed each syllable in the extraordinary like an old English aristocrat.
"Yes I am. Thank you."
"I don't know if that's going to help you drive us all home, Karen," Pam laughed again.
"You have no idea. Pam. You wouldn't believe- I'll be right back." Jim galivanted uncoordinatedly back into the bar for an apparent supply for anticipated performance of this talent. Pam felt, even in her drunken state and contrary to what she had convinced herself all night, a twinge of jealousy.
It was very unlike the jealousy she had felt when Karen and Jim had dated, though, much more resembling the sense of insignificance she had felt all throughout school as she looked up to the more popular girls and the class clowns. But she was no longer the meek and trampled girl who did not speak her mind. She would be a part of this dumb, drunk bit if it killed her.
"HEADS UP!" Jim shouted from across the lot as he emerged from the bar, a bag of Corn nuts in hand, preparing the stance of a football player ready to throw. "Ooh hooh, ready! Hit me, coach!" Pam's arm was abandoned by Karen's hand- who's presence had become forgotten and who's warmth was now sorely missed- and lunged into an overexaggerated, open mouthed crouch that made Pam whoop with laughter. In a burst of liquid courage and a kick of her newfound confidence, Pam began to narrate the events as a sports broadcaster; "Batter up! Or whatever! The catcher is ready for the play! And he pitches the first pitch, aaaand! Noo! A faulty catch from the catcher lady…player person!" Karen missed the first corn nut by a few feet and doubled over in a fit of giggles.
"NNO! No, I can do it! Jim sab- *hicc* sabotaged me, I promise! Doit again!" Karen righted herself, still laughing, and prepared for another pitch from Jim, shuffled a little closer for an easier target.
"Here she gooes, hopefully better luck this time for the sake of the lives of everyone at Dunder Mifflin Scranton branch! He's angling his pitch thoughtfully- she anticipates his angle thingy aaand…Oh nooo! Another miss for the catcher! Oh well, third times a charm, sweetie."
"That'ss very sexist of you Mr. commentator, you shouldn't call people sweetie, that's mygoginisic-mistoginostic-mis-" Karen pouted and shook her fist at Pam in feign annoyance.
"Yeah! stop objectifying the players, Commentator! Equalll rights for mouth sports!" An onslaught of nuts flew at her from Jim's direction, Pam unsuccessfully stumbling to dodge them as she gasped with laughter.
"Hey! Stop, I'm sorry! I'm just an old rich white dude who can get away with anything because sports fans call me a national legend, ok? It won't happen again! I'm sorry!"
"You're a national treasure mister Commentator! Woohoo! We loove you!" Karen whisper-shouted through cupped hands.
"Okay, Okay, Batter up! The pitcher is in position! I can really feel it this time ladies and gentlemen! He makes the shot! WE HAVE A CATCH AND A CHEW LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! CONGRATULATIONS to the lady-winner with an amazing rack who I don't remember the name of like all the other women I meet because I'm a massive asshole and maybe also a sexual predator who is also a sports national treasure!" Jim whooped and cheered wildly imitating a crowd while Karen danced a victory dance, still chewing on her winning catch. Pam felt that familiar rush of adrenaline like she had had from the beach and the smile that plastered itself to her face made her mouth hurt.
The Group to Choose a Driver chosen, and had reverted back to Meredith as she had proven to still possess full motor skills even through the many drinks she had had, and everyone piled into the van. The three of them sat at the back together with Karen and Jim on the ends and Pam in the middle. At some point after a few minutes of silence, something made Karen laugh. Just a snicker at first, then giggling, then wheezing breathlessly. Pam couldn't even remember what after, it was something Dwight did, or said, she couldn't recollect exactly, but for some reason she just couldn't stop, and when Pam and Jim asked her what it was, Karen couldn't even answer she was so choked up. So they laughed at her helpless state, then when she had finally managed to regain a voice and told them what she had laughed at, they had laughed too, and thus began the vicious cycle. Anything tipped them off, from the way Kelly's voice from the front seat ran words a mile a minute, only to be met by Angela's indifferent grunts as if she hadn't consumed three bottles of Coors, to Angela correcting Andy's pronunciation of the word pestilence…to the way Angela said pestilence. Most of the laughing was at Angela or Dwight. Or Angela and Dwight.
As they neared the end of the ride Pam's lungs and jaw ached and more than half of her makeup had left her face and disappeared with the tears which had caused of another fit of laughter from all of them. Karen had moved into the apartment near Jim, they all lived relatively close, so soon they were the only ones left in the Van except Meredith and here wasn't much else to laugh at. They fell into a comfortable, still smiling quiet. Pam relaxed into the jolting of the vehicle as it jostled them back and forth together and she felt a soft, buzzing warmth in the comfort of their proximity that they shared. It was probably the alcohol that made it feel so peaceful, but it was nice. Really nice.
Perfect, even.