In the White of Her Palm is Your Heart (Karen, Jim/Karen) PG-13
Title: In The White Of Her Palm Is Your Heart
Author: rainquenched
Word Count: 1482
Pairing/Characters: Karen, Jim/Karen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When she finally asked him to go to France with her, she knew things were getting really bad.
Spoilers: The night of 'Business School'
When Karen was young, she’d had an obsession with her French teacher: Mr. Depaul. She practiced her accent for hours, if only to sound half as authentic as the real thing. She loved the way the ‘R’s curled off the roof of his mouth and the perfectly thick way he said his ‘L’s. She wanted Jim to be a little bit like that, a little bit mysterious and cultured. There was no mystery with Jim. Not anymore. When she finally asked him to go to France with her, she knew things were getting really bad.
--
She was watching the Travel Channel, and there was a show on about Versailles with some annoyingly wholesome host. She was sweating because the heat in her apartment was broken and stuck at eighty degrees. She was alone because she had turned him down for a date tonight. The lights were off, and her tank top was sticking to her spine, and she was spread out on her couch in the dark.
She was hungry, but didn’t really have anything to eat, and she was too lazy to brave the snow outside for a trip someplace. Her stomach clenched and made noises and she just really felt awful about everything in her life right now. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back and felt the sweat tickling her shoulder blades. It was 6:45 before she decided that it was time to open all her windows, turn the television off and call Jim.
“Hey,” he said to her in that soft voice that Karen hoped he reserved only for her. She hoped a lot of things, and she wished she could stop. “What’s up? I thought we weren’t hanging out tonight. You had other plans.”
“Oh, yeah - well, she canceled. They canceled.” Karen didn’t know what made her call him. Maybe jealousy, thoughts of that flyer hanging up in the kitchen at work, cheap Pendleton paper and tacky bold letters. Like maybe he would decide to go to that high school and look at her watercolors and she would kiss him.
“So, you want to go for sushi?”
There was silence for a second, then he spoke. “Oh, yeah, of course.”
She smiled into the phone and wondered if she was ignoring his hesitation or just imagining it. “Cool. Pick me up in ten minutes?”
She didn’t put any makeup on, and she swallowed two painkillers and kept the lights off. She’d had a migraine all day. Things weren’t okay, but she was good at pretending they were. She was always the one that won the race, or came out victorious over things that she wanted. Now she was losing to someone who wasn't even competing.
Jim was late, as usual, and while she waited, she got sort of angry. For once she was a little honest with herself about their relationship, and all of his flaws. She hated his lateness. She didn’t like his pranks or his messiness or his taste in music. She hated Pam. She tried to correct herself, to be fair or direct her anger somewhere else, when she heard his knuckles on her door.
--
The sushi was tasteless compared to the nicer stuff in Stamford, but she didn’t care because it alleviated the aching in her stomach and he was paying. She knew she looked like shit (she felt like shit), and she struggled to find a reason to be put-together - the Karen before Scranton - but she couldn‘t find one. Jim didn’t seem to mind.
Snow was falling outside but it was the ugly, wet snow that never sticks and instead melts into a mush on the ground. She kept looking at the slick reflection on the road outside, or at the neon gas lamps glowing smoky orange, or the people shuffling into the restaurant and wiping their feet on the mat in the front. She really wouldn’t look at him, even when he spoke to her. She wondered if he noticed how weird she’d been today.
Karen would say that she wasn’t the jealous type, that she was above and beyond all of that, but she wasn’t. And she really was in love with Jim. Even though they didn’t mesh perfectly like something out of a fairytale, she could still see a future with him - something stable and loving. She could at least admit that, even when things were crumbling, even when she’d rather trace patterns on the foggy window in a sushi restaurant than look him in the eye.
He said something and laughed at his own joke, but she wasn’t listening. She was thinking about Versailles. She played with her chopsticks a little before lifting her chin and looking at him.
“Hey, do you want to go to France?”
He smiled a little, probably assuming she was joking, but she kept her mouth in a line and her eyes serious. “What, like Paris?”
“Yeah, or like the countryside or something. We could go wine-tasting or go on a carriage ride or eat snails and frogs.”
“Are you serious?” She saw his face fall a little and knew it would never happen.
“Yeah, I actually…I’ve wanted to go there ever since I was thirteen, when my dad forced me to take French lessons.”
She’d actually never told anyone how badly she’d wanted to go to France. Even now she wasn’t quite sure why she was being so desperate, asking him something like this.
“Yeah, let’s do it. I mean, if it’s been your dream since you were thirteen.” A smile caught the corner of his mouth and he took a drink of his beer. His fingers were nervous on the table and she knew he was lying. They were both lying about everything and it made her feel so anxious and wrong inside.
As they walked to his car, wet snow falling on their heads, Karen asked him if he wanted to go to the art show. She was trying to test him, to see if he was brave enough to take her to Pam’s art show, that they could go together and prove that they were stronger this. She kind of already knew the answer, but she wanted to be surprised by him, for once.
“What?” His voice drew out the word, as if he were trying to hard to act incredulous.
“Do you want to go to Pam’s art show? Didn’t you see the flyers all over the office?”
“Yes, I saw them.” He stood next to his car, and his head was bowed and his face shadowed. Everything was blanketed in an orange glow: the streetlamps reflecting off of the snow. She heard him kick the pavement.
“Well?”
“Well, what? Why would I want to go to Pam’s art show, Karen?” There was a bite to his voice, something that she didn’t hear enough of. She liked it.
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Can you just stop?” She was getting cold and the snow was melting quickly against her scalp, but she wanted to continue picking at him because it felt good to make him feel bad. He lifted his head and snow on top of his hair glittered and flashed orange for a second.
“I’m being serious!”
“Look, let’s just get in the car.”
“I’ll get in the car when we go to the art show.”
“I’m not going to her art show.”
“Why not, what are you afraid of? It‘s really not a big deal. At least, not to me.” Her breath made bright plumes out in front her and her whole body felt numb, her insides fractured, but it really was a beautiful night. She decided she didn’t mind standing outside so much.
“Karen, just get in the fucking car.” He got in the car and slammed the door shut, hard. He was waiting for her, so finally she gave in and opened her door too.
She took his hand in hers, and both of their palms were cold and dry from the winter air. She apologized and kissed him. His lips were fishy and freezing, but she tried not to care. She tried not to care about anything.
“So, you’ll go to France with me?” Her breath was still coming out like steam, even in the car. Her lips felt warm and moist, two inches away from his. She had to ask him one more time to convince herself.
“Yes, I’ll go with you. I already said I would.” She wondered if he would ever get so sick of reassuring her that he would stop. She hoped he wouldn’t. He let her hand go to put his keys in the ignition, so she shoved it into her coat pocket to warm up. She looked at all the people inside the yellow light of the restaurant, eating their shitty sushi and talking about their shitty lives.
Author: rainquenched
Word Count: 1482
Pairing/Characters: Karen, Jim/Karen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When she finally asked him to go to France with her, she knew things were getting really bad.
Spoilers: The night of 'Business School'
When Karen was young, she’d had an obsession with her French teacher: Mr. Depaul. She practiced her accent for hours, if only to sound half as authentic as the real thing. She loved the way the ‘R’s curled off the roof of his mouth and the perfectly thick way he said his ‘L’s. She wanted Jim to be a little bit like that, a little bit mysterious and cultured. There was no mystery with Jim. Not anymore. When she finally asked him to go to France with her, she knew things were getting really bad.
--
She was watching the Travel Channel, and there was a show on about Versailles with some annoyingly wholesome host. She was sweating because the heat in her apartment was broken and stuck at eighty degrees. She was alone because she had turned him down for a date tonight. The lights were off, and her tank top was sticking to her spine, and she was spread out on her couch in the dark.
She was hungry, but didn’t really have anything to eat, and she was too lazy to brave the snow outside for a trip someplace. Her stomach clenched and made noises and she just really felt awful about everything in her life right now. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back and felt the sweat tickling her shoulder blades. It was 6:45 before she decided that it was time to open all her windows, turn the television off and call Jim.
“Hey,” he said to her in that soft voice that Karen hoped he reserved only for her. She hoped a lot of things, and she wished she could stop. “What’s up? I thought we weren’t hanging out tonight. You had other plans.”
“Oh, yeah - well, she canceled. They canceled.” Karen didn’t know what made her call him. Maybe jealousy, thoughts of that flyer hanging up in the kitchen at work, cheap Pendleton paper and tacky bold letters. Like maybe he would decide to go to that high school and look at her watercolors and she would kiss him.
“So, you want to go for sushi?”
There was silence for a second, then he spoke. “Oh, yeah, of course.”
She smiled into the phone and wondered if she was ignoring his hesitation or just imagining it. “Cool. Pick me up in ten minutes?”
She didn’t put any makeup on, and she swallowed two painkillers and kept the lights off. She’d had a migraine all day. Things weren’t okay, but she was good at pretending they were. She was always the one that won the race, or came out victorious over things that she wanted. Now she was losing to someone who wasn't even competing.
Jim was late, as usual, and while she waited, she got sort of angry. For once she was a little honest with herself about their relationship, and all of his flaws. She hated his lateness. She didn’t like his pranks or his messiness or his taste in music. She hated Pam. She tried to correct herself, to be fair or direct her anger somewhere else, when she heard his knuckles on her door.
--
The sushi was tasteless compared to the nicer stuff in Stamford, but she didn’t care because it alleviated the aching in her stomach and he was paying. She knew she looked like shit (she felt like shit), and she struggled to find a reason to be put-together - the Karen before Scranton - but she couldn‘t find one. Jim didn’t seem to mind.
Snow was falling outside but it was the ugly, wet snow that never sticks and instead melts into a mush on the ground. She kept looking at the slick reflection on the road outside, or at the neon gas lamps glowing smoky orange, or the people shuffling into the restaurant and wiping their feet on the mat in the front. She really wouldn’t look at him, even when he spoke to her. She wondered if he noticed how weird she’d been today.
Karen would say that she wasn’t the jealous type, that she was above and beyond all of that, but she wasn’t. And she really was in love with Jim. Even though they didn’t mesh perfectly like something out of a fairytale, she could still see a future with him - something stable and loving. She could at least admit that, even when things were crumbling, even when she’d rather trace patterns on the foggy window in a sushi restaurant than look him in the eye.
He said something and laughed at his own joke, but she wasn’t listening. She was thinking about Versailles. She played with her chopsticks a little before lifting her chin and looking at him.
“Hey, do you want to go to France?”
He smiled a little, probably assuming she was joking, but she kept her mouth in a line and her eyes serious. “What, like Paris?”
“Yeah, or like the countryside or something. We could go wine-tasting or go on a carriage ride or eat snails and frogs.”
“Are you serious?” She saw his face fall a little and knew it would never happen.
“Yeah, I actually…I’ve wanted to go there ever since I was thirteen, when my dad forced me to take French lessons.”
She’d actually never told anyone how badly she’d wanted to go to France. Even now she wasn’t quite sure why she was being so desperate, asking him something like this.
“Yeah, let’s do it. I mean, if it’s been your dream since you were thirteen.” A smile caught the corner of his mouth and he took a drink of his beer. His fingers were nervous on the table and she knew he was lying. They were both lying about everything and it made her feel so anxious and wrong inside.
As they walked to his car, wet snow falling on their heads, Karen asked him if he wanted to go to the art show. She was trying to test him, to see if he was brave enough to take her to Pam’s art show, that they could go together and prove that they were stronger this. She kind of already knew the answer, but she wanted to be surprised by him, for once.
“What?” His voice drew out the word, as if he were trying to hard to act incredulous.
“Do you want to go to Pam’s art show? Didn’t you see the flyers all over the office?”
“Yes, I saw them.” He stood next to his car, and his head was bowed and his face shadowed. Everything was blanketed in an orange glow: the streetlamps reflecting off of the snow. She heard him kick the pavement.
“Well?”
“Well, what? Why would I want to go to Pam’s art show, Karen?” There was a bite to his voice, something that she didn’t hear enough of. She liked it.
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Can you just stop?” She was getting cold and the snow was melting quickly against her scalp, but she wanted to continue picking at him because it felt good to make him feel bad. He lifted his head and snow on top of his hair glittered and flashed orange for a second.
“I’m being serious!”
“Look, let’s just get in the car.”
“I’ll get in the car when we go to the art show.”
“I’m not going to her art show.”
“Why not, what are you afraid of? It‘s really not a big deal. At least, not to me.” Her breath made bright plumes out in front her and her whole body felt numb, her insides fractured, but it really was a beautiful night. She decided she didn’t mind standing outside so much.
“Karen, just get in the fucking car.” He got in the car and slammed the door shut, hard. He was waiting for her, so finally she gave in and opened her door too.
She took his hand in hers, and both of their palms were cold and dry from the winter air. She apologized and kissed him. His lips were fishy and freezing, but she tried not to care. She tried not to care about anything.
“So, you’ll go to France with me?” Her breath was still coming out like steam, even in the car. Her lips felt warm and moist, two inches away from his. She had to ask him one more time to convince herself.
“Yes, I’ll go with you. I already said I would.” She wondered if he would ever get so sick of reassuring her that he would stop. She hoped he wouldn’t. He let her hand go to put his keys in the ignition, so she shoved it into her coat pocket to warm up. She looked at all the people inside the yellow light of the restaurant, eating their shitty sushi and talking about their shitty lives.