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“Or… maybe we get married…”.
Was that… an offer? Was that a question? Was that the specter of something Jimmy and Kim were really supposed to let go, and yet just couldn’t? Was being forever haunted by the lies, the messes, the countless new ways they found to hurt each other really better than parting ways? Jimmy’s head was spinning like it used to when he’d smoke weed in Marco’s basement back in Cicero, that sweet thrill now replaced by utter confusion; he was still trying to catch his breath, which kept on escaping him, every attempt of steading it crushed underneath the unbearable weight of the fear of losing her… and the sheer dread at the notion of keeping her by his side, when he was still going to be the lowlife who had just so mercilessly humiliated her in front of her law partner, and her most valuable clients. Hadn’t Chuck said something like that once? That it didn’t really matter if he meant to do good, he was still going to hurt everyone who dared to love him? On the verge of tears, he let her few mumbled words, uttered with startling confidence by her trembling lips, run through his body like an electric discharge – revitalizing him, and yet leaving him shaken. He let them float around his exhausted, terrified mind, trying to make some sense out of them.
Maybe we get married.
Jimmy stared at her, capturing every single detail of her silhouette, studying carefully the curve of her thin lips and memorizing the way that single rebel lock of hair fell softly on her forehead, as if this was the last time he was allowed to lay his eyes on her – she was right, he could feel it now: that was a breaking point for them, and it didn’t matter how many times he had showed that innate talent for fucking things up… he was never going to be good at understanding it, accepting it, surrendering to it.
Perhaps she perceived his inner turmoil, because it was Kim who broke the silence. “It would make things easier, you know that. At least, if we both commit to it, with spousal privilege, it…”.
Something about her tone, or maybe the sobriety and humorlessness of her words, startled him, and there he was, once again back at arguing with her. “Kim, Kim, hold on, hold on… what’s this? Some kind of… closing argument or something?”, he exclaimed, gesturing frantically, as his cheeks got red. Now he was… pissed off? Really?! It was absurd, to say the least. The fucking audacity of him behaving as if he was the injured party of that shitty situation he had caused! It was just… alright, he was being completely unreasonable, and right there and then he couldn’t even keep track of his emotions, it was all too much… but Kim talking about their marriage as some kind of… legal arrangement? What the fuck was that? He smirked and chuckled sarcastically. “Getting married… it’s, it’s… is that even what you want?”.
There was no sarcasm in that question, though. No pettiness – that was genuinely the only thing that mattered to him: that her heart was in it. What was the point of them joking and kissing and fighting and embracing and fucking things up and watching movies together and making love… what was the point of her marrying Jimmy McGill, first-class asshole who graduated at Loser University and specialized in Ruining Everyone’s Day, if she didn’t at least do it for love? Not that he understood why she would even like him, but… really, was it worth it if it was just something she felt she had to submit to, some dull and annoying obligation, and not something she wanted as much as he did?
Because of course, of course he wanted to marry her – had the matter been left to his untrustworthy hands, he would’ve had probably proposed to her the very first day he had caught her eye at HHM, making a fool of himself in front of their colleagues, the clients, even Howard and Chuck; he would’ve made a ring out of a post-it and kneeled in front of the romantic electric light of the printer’s display. It was perfectly okay for him to look like the biggest moron on the face of the planet if it was the price to pay for her love.
But this? This just felt fucking wrong.
Arching her eyebrows, Kim crossed her arms in front of her – her eyes darkened, but in the dim light of the living room, Jimmy couldn’t grasp if she was hurt, or just getting ready to bite right back; her cryptic, inscrutable stare was like a solid brick wall carefully built against his bitter irony, his sudden hostility. “I’m the one who suggested it, am I not?”, she replied dryly.
So it was really going to be her versus him, Wexler vs. McGill… again.
“Yeah, right…”, he snorted, shaking his head and clenching his teeth. It still bugged him, he couldn’t help it. And yes, it felt wrong to insist after the shitty day he had put her through, but he just couldn’t let it go. “That’s not… really an answer, though, is it?”, he said, and for whatever reason, found that his feet had moved forward, and he was now so close to her that he could smell her familiar scent – wine and roses – and feel her breath tickling the flushed skin of his cheeks; that was enough to make him stammer. “I mean, I… I could ask you for a cookie right now and eat it, it wouldn’t necessarily mean I… want it”.
Wow, what a helluva closing argument, Saul Goodman.
“A cookie”. She just shrugged, nodding slowly, clearly unimpressed by his metaphor. “I ask you to marry me and you talk about cookies”.
I better take a goddamn deal and not take this to trial, ‘cause she’s gonna fuck me up.
“Kim, it’s not…”, he stuttered, and lowered his head in defeat: he fucking hated Rich Schweikart and Kevin Wachtell, and it had felt so good to argue with them. Fucking with them had been like playing a guitar solo in front of a million cheering fans… that electrifying. But with Kim? No, just… no. He didn’t even necessarily want to win, what was the point of winning against her? He loved to watch her succeed, not succumb, for God’s sake! No, he just… He wanted to get to the bottom of this conversation and, if he could, find a way to make her happy again. Yes, in the end it was only about that, even if it meant packing up his three or four things – and fifteen shirts, probably – and leave the apartment that same night. Jimmy took his time before speaking again; his voice was weak, nothing more than a stuttering whisper. “Listen, fact is…”. He paused, sighing deeply: he did have a mouth on him, but right now he couldn’t think of a single effective sentence to utter. “Guess what I’m trying to say, is… I know I would do anything to keep this…”. Jimmy hectically waved his hands in the little space between the two of them. “I want it to keep going”. He smiled sadly: he was at her mercy, now. “But… you are you. And well, I am… me?”.
Once again, Kim Wexler looked positively unimpressed.
“Wow, Jimmy… you do have a way with words”.
“Aw, c’mon Kim, you know what I mean”. Jimmy huffed, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration; he did sound kind of whiny right now, but it was imperative for him to just make her understand that he was doing this whole mess for her – which, ironically, was exactly what had pissed her off in the first place: he didn’t save her, she saved herself… Kim had told him that a long time ago, hadn’t she? That swift realization was enough for him to slow down and recollect his thoughts; he joined his hands together in front of him, as if he was begging her now. “Just… humor me, Kim please… please? You said I made you the sucker…”. It only took Kim one arched eyebrow for him to change his choice of words. “I mean… yeah, I did. I did make you the sucker… Sorry ‘bout that”. Jimmy bit his lower lip and tried to read the puzzled expression on her delicate, beautiful features: was she amused? Was she tired? Did she want to punch him in the face? If that was the price to pay to get back to how things were, it could be arranged, he was ready to let her beat the shit out of him. He sighed. “I fucked up big time, Kim. And not just this once. And you’d… you’d still marry me? After today? After…”. Everything, he thought, but didn’t say it. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t get it”.
Once again, silence fell all around them. Jimmy could only hear his heartbeat and the distant sound of dogs barking and cars running fast on the highway… and then there was Kim: she shook her head before looking straight at him – she was exceptionally still, deeply pensative, the expression on her face surprisingly… sweet. Something about that gaze caught him off guard: he’d seen that look in her eyes before. Every single time he’d taken for granted that he wasn’t good enough for her, that’s when it would appear. “Kim, it’s just…”, he tried to complain, somewhat uneasy, but before he could utter anything coherent, she resolutely walked towards him and crashed her lips against his. They were better at showing their feelings than talking about them, that was for sure.
Well, alright, this deal is… much better than I expected.
Her hands cupped his cheeks and he circled her waist, holding her firmly, almost desperately, still scared that perhaps this was going to be a goodbye kiss after all – the most tender and tragic moment of their time together. Then, when she abruptly broke off the contact, she almost looked… furious? He swallowed hard as her hands grabbed the collar of his shirt, keeping him in place: did she want to kiss him again or was she just preparing to strangle him?
Maybe it’s more of a trap than a deal.
“Jimmy, how many people in Albuquerque, no, on the whole freaking planet do you think know about my dad? My mom’s addiction? My fucked-up childhood?”. Kim was speaking quickly and Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she wanted to put an end to that goddamn fight once and for all, or maybe because of how hurtful it was for her to talk about her past; he felt his heart shrinking in his ribcage as he placed his index finger on his chest, pointing to himself. “Yeah, Jimmy. You. Only you”. He knew that, didn’t he? It was no secret that Kim didn’t like to share much about her roots, her parents and everything… It still somehow hit differently now – more powerfully, so to speak, and for some reason that gave him the audacity of placing a callous palm on her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. Kim was seemingly unmoved by it. “Have you ever stopped for a second and asked yourself why? D’you think I just randomly told you because you happened to be the guy who worked with me in the mailroom?”.
“Kind of…”, he muttered shamefully as he retracted his hand, “I mean, I guess I kinda did, but I... I never really thought… Kim, I–”.
Rolling her eyes, Kim snorted, broke the embrace and rushed back to the coffee table, where her glass of wine still sat, untouched; she was about to bring it to her lips, when she suddenly started walking aimlessly and nervously around the room before stopping in front of the counter, shaking her golden head. “Jimmy, you’re just…”. Unbelievable? An idiot? A complete piece of shit? All of those definitions seemed to fit him quite well at the moment; and yet, when she raised her cerulean eyes from the dark liquid and looked right at him, there was no annoyance, nor frustration in her dilated pupils. She paused for a second, biting her lower lip, and Jimmy wondered what was about to come – it was always astonishing to him how he truly believed he knew her well, and yet so often she would keep him on edge just by staring at him in a certain manner. One of her many virtues, her unsung beauty, the real core of her charm, the spell she had put on him ever since the first glance they had exchanged all of those years ago in the mailroom of HHM: he never knew what to expect of her. Blessing and curse, cross and delight, pleasure and pain. When she finally spoke, her voice no more than a whisper, Jimmy felt he had been kept in suspense forever: his heart was pounding so loudly he seriously wondered if their neighbors could hear it through the walls.
“Jimmy, when I talked to you back then, when I still talk to you, I feel like…”, she began, and then stopped again, closing her eyes for a moment; he came closer, leaning against the counter, as if he needed a handhold, as if the choice of her next words could be enough to push him straight into the abyss. When she started talking again, her piercing blue eyes were fixed on his, strikingly unafraid. “There’s no judgement. I could tell you I strangled a cat for fun yesterday and you’d just ask me if I need help getting rid of the body”. A small coy smile played on both their lips – it felt good to share something with her again, something less ambiguous than that rushed kiss, and a warm unnamed feeling grew and expanded in Jimmy’s chest… something akin to subtle optimism.
“Yeah, sure thing, you can be an asshole. You can try to control me or protect me”. Those last two words were spat out of her lips as if they were a slur. “Or whatever”. Kim finally took a sip of her wine. “But you let me be myself without asking me to wear some mask: the career-oriented woman, the good employee who never argues back, someone with… I just…”. She halted for a few seconds, maybe in search of the right words – but now he really didn’t care that much, did he? She could have just spewed the most random, disjointed sentences and he would’ve still listened. He was really listening now, carefully, passionately even, studying every pause, intonation and breath, as if her words were no less than holy. Nothing more meaningful, poignant, essential had ever existed. Not to Jimmy McGill, anyway.
Guess it’s been a while since I actually listened to her. What an asshole.
Kim finally found the words. “I never felt like I had to hide where I came from, not with you”, she explained, and inhaled deeply. “When I first told you about my mom, I was so nervous… It was like, I couldn’t stop thinking, what if I fuck it up, our friendship… I looked into your eyes, they were always so kind to me, and I just spilled my guts about… how she treated me, how I would try to get her love or attention or whatever… and you just… I remember you rolled a cigarette for me”.
Jimmy found himself chuckling, vague memories of his slightly smoother fingers dipping into his shirt pocket, where he kept his tobacco pack. “Yeah, right, I used to do that…”.
Kim smiled back. It always amazed him how happy it made him feel to see her… well, happy. Was she happy now, though? Or just trying to capture that feeling in those long-lost images of simpler times? Honestly, for all he knew, it was good to see her like that.
“And then you almost cracked open a beer for me, and then you stopped, I think it was because you were afraid of hurting my feelings somehow, but I knew you meant well… and you told me having shitty or loving parents is just a coincidence. Just that. It was simple, but true. And it helped. And then you…”. Her deep blue eyes seemed to look through him, as if she was digging deeper into her heart and mind to bring back that specific moment and all of its details. “I remember you made some self-loathing joke about your mom and dad being great and still having a son like you…”. Kim shook her head and took another sip of her wine, before taking a step forward and offering the glass to Jimmy; inhaling her sweet perfume, he politely declined: he didn’t need that… she was inebriating enough.
“And you told me I was more than that… more than the shit my mom put me through… and I already knew it, of course, it’s just…”. She started fidgeting with her necklace. “I needed to hear someone say it”.
With a quick motion, she turned around and Jimmy knew why – he had noticed her eyes had gotten teary. Kim leaned against the counter, placed the glass back on it and paused for a couple moments. He stared at her slim neck, her small ears, the perfect blonde lock of her ponytail, and waited: they had all the time in the world, he could’ve admired her forever.
“And it could only be you. Because I had opened up about the worst fucking years of my life and your eyes… your eyes were still kind to me. Kinder, even”. Her voice kept on breaking, but she went on. “You cared about me. Me, just me”. A soft chuckle escaped her lips; Jimmy’s heart soared. “You wanted the whole package, you didn’t care what you’d find inside”. A sob, now, but not a sad one – somehow, he knew. “It felt… different, new, good… it still feels good, despite… everything”.
Despite me being an asshole, I suppose.
“So yeah, call me selfish, call me stubborn, call me dumb, I don’t care, it’s really hard for me to let that…”. Kim didn’t turn around to face him, but Jimmy could still see her hands moving. “This…”. She pointed to him and then to herself a couple times. “Go”. When she spoke again, her voice was low… serious, but tender somehow. Filled with love. “And I want the whole package as well. You, all of you”. Jimmy held his breath. “I thought you’d know by now. It’s always been about… all of you”.
After all those years, it still seemed so unlikely to Jimmy that someone would love him after having witnessed who he really was. Especially Kim.
But she doesn’t want me to choose for her. She saves herself. If she wants to fuck herself up as well there’s really nothing I can do about it, is there?
As always, he was trying not to take that night and everything it meant too seriously, but there was a renovated awareness inside him: that she loved him. She really did. And it wasn’t his place to question her feelings, was it?
“Whole package you say, uhm?”, he finally replied, as he approached her from behind; he placed a warm palm on her shoulder and gently invited her to turn around. When she faced him he saw that yes, she had indeed been crying, but why would it matter? His eyes were filled with tears as well. Jimmy delicately cupped her face and she sighed sharply at the contact, as his thumb dried a tear from her cheek. “You mean, like, a deluxe version… or maybe something with a little discount?”. The joke made her chuckle, even if it was a really sloppy one. “Okay, alright, you win, counselor”.
She looked at him in anticipation.
Jimmy encircled her shoulders and held her close, pleasantly surprised when she hugged him back – he didn’t know why, it just always felt like the first time with her. “Let’s get married. I think I can… I’d be good at this whole package thing”. Kim sighed in relief and rested her head on his shoulder – it had been a hell of a day after all. He placed a single kiss on her forehead. Against his shirt he could feel her tears – tears of joy, he hoped – soaking the thin fabric and his skin underneath.
Time to make things a smidge lighter.
“And I swear it’s not a dirty joke, you were the one talking about packages all the time”, he whispered in her ear. Against his chest, Kim snorted, and playfully punched his arm. There she was, his Kim.
My future wife.
“Ouch, hey…”, Jimmy complained, pretending to be shocked and hurt. “And anyway, Kim, really, aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee or something? Make me your future blushing bride? Let me tell you, that was one crappy proposal”.
And they laughed, joked and kissed all night – hoping, perhaps, that was exactly what the future was going to hold for them.