Disclaimer: I in now way take part in any monetary compensation due to the owners and creators of the television show FRIENDS. I just like to pretend they are my friends. Please enjoy my little story.
~Yve
"And here I was, convinced there weren't gonna be any beautiful women at this conference." Of course he said it without really thinking first. It was one of his major faults. See a pretty girl, say the first words that pop into your head. This time, though, what he'd said wouldn't have been that bad if he'd actually been free to say it. But this week he'd gone back to being not single. It was okay, though. He could salvage it. Just being friendly. Nothing wrong with being friendly, right?
The woman turned her attention to focus on him and he had to stop himself from going even further with the word vomit. She wasn't just beautiful, she was amazing. And she was opening her mouth to talk to him. He swallowed the lump that had quickly formed in his throat.
"Oh, it's you," she said with a smirk. Not unfriendly,.but not exactly warm either.
"Yeah. That's right. Me... Because you know me... already." It was a statement, though it sounded more like a question coming from his increasingly nervous mind.
"Yes," she drawled more warmly this time.
"Well, I'm glad it's not that my reputation proceeds me." He laughed uncomfortably and suddenly wished he'd chosen to remain aloof like usual.
"Chandler, it's Monica. Monica Geller." She finally gave him a real smile as she reached out to touch his arm lightly. "Ross's -"
"Oh my god, Monica!" He cut her off as realisation hit.
"Yeah," she nodded her head in agreement. "Its been a long time."
"Eleven years."
"Miss Geller? Your room key." The desk clerk held the key card out to her with a pleasant smile.
"Oh, hey," Chandler offered enthusiastically. "I can help you up with your bags... er, bag."
"Thanks," she said, accepting graciously.
They were staying at a Holiday Inn near the British Museum, where Ross was a guest lecturer for a visiting exhibit. He obviously had forgotten to mention to Chandler that his little sister would be there with them for the week.
When they reached her room he placed her bag on the end of the bed and moved over immediately to the French doors leading out to the modest balcony. The shock of seeing her again had him a bit over excited and his hand was itching for a smoke.
Monica followed him outside and crossed her arms in disapproval as she saw him pull his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
"Smoke?" He asked, casually offering her one, more comfortable now that the object in question was no longer missing from his hand.
"God no!" She huffed. "Does Janice know you smoke?"
"Oh, so you know about Janice."
"Ross is still a Chatty Cathy," Monica said, smiling slightly as Chandler moved downwind to minimize the smoke drifting her direction.
"Well, it's vacation. So I'm allowed."
"Mhmm," she hummed skeptically.
He suddenly remembered Ross telling him back in college how his little sister had a thing for Chandler. He thought about it while he took another drag, but his mouth was still faster than his better judgement and he began rambling anyway. "You know, I'm on vacation and things are supposed to be light and fun and relaxing. But I got here and I just knew there'd be nothing but old, crusty professors and dusty paleontologists. I got scared. I thought, I may not see a single beautiful woman the entire time I'm here. But then ... you saved me." He said it in as much of a smooth, flirtatious way as he could manage. But it came out a little flat.
"How many girls you pick up with that line - you saved me?" She asked in a bantering tone. "Or would I be surprised?"
"I'd be surprised if you were surprised," he answered honestly.
"Ouch," she whispered sympathetically.
"Ya know," Chandler said as he rubbed out his cigarette on the concrete banister. "We've got four more days till Ross's lecture. I'd like to catch up with you. Any reason why we shouldn't spend them having a fun, relaxing time together?" He asked, sincerity clear in his voice.
Smiling solemnly, Monica pulled her phone out and offered him a picture of a handsome older man (with an epic mustache). He raised his eyebrows a little in disbelief. The guy must have been at least twenty years older than Monica.
"He wouldn't be too happy about that?" he asked.
"Nope."
"Husband?" Chandler hadn't noticed a ring on her hand
"No," she said, quietly.
"He still wouldn't be happy about it, though."
"No," she agreed with a slight smile.
"He faked a business conference or something to get out of hearing Ross talk about carbon dating, didn't he?" She laughed a little at that, and he smiled.
"Something like that."
"So, how long..."
"Five years," she answered confidently.
"No, on-again off-again shenanigans? No little mistakes?"
"Huh. That's kind of a leading question, Chandler. Want to talk about your perfect relationship with Janice?" She challenged. "Or Cathy? Or Janice again?"
"Ha hah. My reputation does proceed me." He shook his head sheepishly. By this time they had migrated back into the room and were seated at the small table in the corner. Standing stiffly he said, "I think I'll go now."
"What? You're embarrassed?" Monica asked, standing now, herself.
"I just might be," he stated with a wide grin. "And now, my pride and I are going for a walk."
"No." Monica reached forward, brushing his shoulder before pulling her hand back to her side. "Let's start over. Find somewhere to get a cup of coffee?" She suggested.
A genuine smile began to replace the grin as he nodded. "Alright. I think I can handle that."
They settled for a pub down the road rather than a coffee house like they might find back home in New York. They were on their second pint before he found himself talking about himself before he'd known her brother - specifically h in vhigh school.
"Where were we?" She asked as he sat back down with their third Doombar.
"I had just finished telling about my father handing out fruit from his headdress after one of my high school swim meets," he offered with a sarcastic smile.
"You had it pretty rough growing up, huh?"
"Well, it wasn't all bad," he conceded. "There were the school vacations that I went home and my mom was on book tours. Those were pretty laid back. That's when I made out for the first time... with the chauffeur's daughter... in the pool house."
"Wow," Monica laughed with a slight shake of her head. "We come from totally different worlds."
"What? Your dad wasn't a burlesque performer?"
"I was thinking more that we didn't have a pool, let alone one that required its own house." She watched him glance away, flushing a little. "Not to mention the chauffeur comment."
"Oh, well, thanks for not mentioning it," he quipped back quickly.
"So I guess with all that... popularity... you probably had quite a few girlfriends." She heard him groan low in in throat as he dropped his shoulders, before turning toward her with a strained smile. "Or maybe 'few' isn't the right word?"
"By popularity you mean money, and let's just say I didn't keep a precise count."
"And you were the one to break it off with all of them?"
"No. Not... all of them."
"But I'm sure you were very fair in your judgement of these women?"
"Ross told you about the girl I dumped because she was way needy, didn't he?"
"Too needy was the least of it," Monica smiled as Chandler groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. "Big nostrils; doesn't not like Yani; big gums..."
"You can stop now. I get the picture," he interrupted her. "You think I'm a terrible person.
"Not terrible. Maybe commitment-phobic."
"But enough about me, let's talk about you!" he said enthusiastically.
"Oh nooo," Monica protested as she stood up, pushing her half finished pint closer to Chandler. "You wore me out talking about boarding school, and your first classic car."
"I'm an inept conversationalist. I'm forced to lie about it on résumés," he joked. "Please don't go."
"But if I get started talking about me tonight, what are you gonna have left to ask me about tomorrow?" They smiled at each other, finally feeling more relaxed together. "Drinks are on you," she told him before turning to exit the pub and head back to the hotel.
"See you tomorrow," he sighed, but she was already gone.
"Chandler, over here!" Ross stood and waved his friend over to the table where he and Monica sat eating lunch in the museum's Great Court Restaurant. "Hey, you remember my sister, Monica."
"Sure I do," he said, reaching across the table to shake her hand. "You know I never forget a face." She shot him a look that he wasn't sure how to read, but he just smiled and sat next to Ross.
"Yeah you do. You never remember that guy we keep running into at the racquet ball court."
"You mean the guy that keeps hitting on me?"
"Yeah, that guy. Oh." Ross's smile fell flat. "Was that flirting?"
"In some social circles." Chandler caught the edge of Monica's smile from behind her coffee cup.
"I was telling Monica about this series of guest lectures that I'm planning on sitting in on in a little while. They're gonna be going into some pretty gritty deconstruction of erosion patternology. Get it? Gritty?"
Monica and Chandler both laughed stiffly at his pun before Monica picked up where she'd left off when Chandler had entered the restaurant. "And I was just telling Ross how much I wanted to check out the Butterfly House."
"Oh. Yeah. Me too! We should go together," Chandler supplied quickly, before Ross could ask him along to the lectures.
"Ha, are you guys sure? That's like a families and kids focused exhibit."
Chandler looked at Monica for an explanation that would satisfy her brother. "I love butterflies, and I thought I could take some pictures to show Ben when we get home," she offered, leaving Chandler to make his own recovery.
"And I... basically am a kid. Besides," he added quickly. "I thought it would be good to catch up with Monica. If she'll have me."
Twenty minutes later they'd paid their five pounds and we're headed into the exhibit. "You know, we could have done anything else. We didn't have to do the butterflies," he said as they filtered in with the crowds of families.
"I actually wanted to come here," she said in a scolding manner.
"Okay, fine. By the way, what was that look you gave me back at lunch when Ross was reintroducing us?" He did his best imitation of the look and she nearly tripped when she glanced over to see what he was talking about.
"That was... I don't know. A warning. If you said anything about hanging out last night I thought Ross might get the wrong idea."
"You worried he'd tell your very handsome, mustache-model boyfriend?"
"I wasn't, but now I am." She smacked him lightly on the arm. "I thought he might freak out, but your right. Yours is worse."
"Well, I mean, he'd have to get the wrong idea, so... we're in the clear."
"Yeah, cause we're just friends. Just old friends, catching up," Monica agreed with a chuckle.
At that point, Chandler startled a little hearing the text alert from his phone. He reached for it and was sure to angle it away when he checked the screen for his message.
As if on some pre-arranged cue, Monica's phone beeped loudly from her purse. She turned in a similar way, obscuring her screen from chandlers gaze.
"That him?"
"Mhmm. Janice?" she asked in return.
"She sent me lots of little red hearts," he said, smiling sarcastically. "You?"
"I got a heart, and a 'have fun exploring London'."
"Nice," he nodded. Then after a long pause, "What's his name?"
"Richard."
"Where'd you meet?"
"Back in my old neighborhood in Long Island." She answered the question smoothly, without making eye contact.
"Oh, I thought you moved to the city after school." He wasn't really calling her out, but he was curious what she might be too self conscious to tell him.
"Yeah. I um, had a roommate - Phoebe - for a while. Then she moved out and about a year later Rachel Green needed a place to stay," she rambled on. "You remember Rachel, don't you?"
"You mean the woman Ross has been in love with since the ninth grade? Nope. Nothing comes to mind." He smiled and she chuckled before continuing.
"Well, we've been living together for a little over four years now. I work at an Italian restraint in The Village. Alessandro's."
Oh... Really?" He said with surprised trepidation.
"Just the last six months," she assured him.
"Oh thank God! That place really blew. I read this review of them in -"
"The Chelsea Reporter? I wrote that!" She exclaimed excitedly. "That's how I got the job. I replaced their head chef the next week."
"Good for you. I said you should be a chef." He thought back to the first thanksgiving he had spent with Ross and his family, freshman year of college. She may have changed a lot over the last decade, but she was still the sweet, eager person he'd met back then.
"I remember," she said, quietly.
"Anyway..." He moved back to a previous subject. "I know Phoebe and Rachel a little."
"Really?"
"Yeah, Ross referred me to Phoebe for massages a couple years ago. And I met Rachel a few times that year when she and Ross were dating."
"My god. I can't believe we haven't run into each other again till now."
"Well, you know, I, uh... I can't really think of a good reason either. Nah, I got nothin'."
They both smiled and continued walking through the exhibit, Monica stopping every once in a while to snap a picture of the colorful wings as they fluttered by. Chandler found himself ducking his head periodically, trying to avoid a bout of nerves. He heard Monica give an outright chuckle and turned to see what she could be laughing at.
"What's funny?"
"You! What's wrong, are you freaked out by insects or something?"
"No. I just didn't think they'd be all... on the loose in here. Flying things don't like me."
"I'm listening," she urged him to continue as they stood in front of the hatchery to try to get some shots of the pupae emerging.
"When I was in college, I was walking back to my car after a lecture. I had my arms full - gym bag, textbooks, what-have-you - and this crow freakin' dive-bombs me. Hit me right in the head. So, I drop everything, but I'm still about ten feet from my car. So I check the horizon, coast looks clear, and I start to pick up my shit. And out of fuckin' nowhere this crow starts swooping around me, taking shots at my neck, my shoulders. I was actually bleeding. He was like one of the flying monkeys from "Wicked"." He trailed off realizing it was the first time he'd really cussed in front of her, but she didn't seem phased by it.
You've been freaked out by flying things since college?" She asked excitedly.
"Usually just birds, but some of these guys are huge!" He watched her laughing for another moment before they decided to walk on, and he figured he'd bring up the subject again. "So, if you live in the city, and you work in the city, you must've known this Richard guy for a while. At least since college."
"Well, I was doing catering before the restaurant and he was a client."
"Oh."
"But I've actually known him since I was a kid. He's an ophthalmologist. And he's divorced. And he's friends with my... parents."
"So, you mean he's friendly with your parents in a 'let's be friendly because you're dating my daughter' sort of way?"
"More in like a 'our kids were in high school together and we play golf once a week' kind of way."
Chandler slowed his pace. No wonder she'd wanted to avoid talking about when they'd met. "Oh, so then when you said you met in your old neighborhood, you meant back when it was your young neighborhood."
"Chandler!"
He didn't know why he'd said it. The last thing he wanted was to have upset her, but... it was just his way. "No, Mon. I'm sorry. I joke to break tension. It's my way," he said, trying to oversell it.
"Okay. I know it's kind of weird. He's twenty-one years older than me. And if we ever have kids, his grandkids will be older than their aunts and uncles. But so what, when you're in love?"
"So that's what this is? You're in love with him?" He felt strange asking such an intimate question, but he didn't really see how it could matter. Not if she really did love this Richard guy.
"Are you in love with Janice?" Monica asked, turning the tables on him and effectively avoiding his question
"Ha, ho-oh. You do realize that you have to be emotionally functional to fall in love? It's kind of like having to of had sex to get pregnant. They go hand in hand."
"So, that's a no..."
"Look," he said seriously, taking her aside to avoid the crowds of families now exiting the exhibit. He grabbed her by the shoulders to make sure she was really listening. "I don't know if that could ever happen for me, but you... you're the kind of amazing person who deserves to be in love. And if this guy is the right guy... nothing that anyone has to say should convince you otherwise. Especially not a smart ass like me. Okay?"
"Okay." She nodded her head slowly, feeling strangely like this was an important moment. She was so dazed she didn't realize he was leaning his face down towards hers. But, quickly, he placed a brief kiss to her cheek before giving her shoulders another little squeeze.
As they left the exhibit together, she looked down and noticed that their hands were casually entwined. She couldn't remember how it happened, but she wasn't in a hurry to make it stop, either.
They met up again with Ross for dinner at the pub they had visited the night before. He had a small table near one of the front windows, and he'd taken Chandler's advice and ordered three Doombars. After another beer and most of their dinner had been eaten, Ross drew them close so he could take a selfie of the three of them.
"He just discovered Facebook," Chandler informed Monica as he sat stiffly between her and her brother while Ross focussed his cell phone camera.
"I know. I got a friend request last week." Monica shifted uncomfortably as Ross snapped a few shots in succession.
"Okay I got one useable shot, at least." He held his phone up so they could see the picture he'd chosen to keep.
"Chandler's not even looking at the camera," she protested.
"At least he's not making that creepy face he usually makes in pictures."
"He's right, that's why you won't find any pictures of me online. At least not camera facing," Chandler agreed. He looked back at Ross's phone. Ross was looking diligently forward; Monica had her head tilted slightly towards him, but she still managed a convincing smile toward the camera; but Chandler's head was turned completely in her direction so that he was captured in profile. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Ross, don't tag me in that, okay?" Monica asked quickly.
"Why? You look fine."
"I just... It looks like we're having such a good time... I wouldn't want someone to see it and get, er, to feel left out."
"Please. They'll be glad you're having fun. I'm tagging you. At the Grain and Gristle pub with... my best friend and my little sister," he spoke aloud as he typed the entire caption. "Now it's out there. Get over it!"
In the morning, they met at the hotel's breakfast buffet.
"Where's Ross," Monica asked by way of greeting, as she piled the freshly cut fruit onto her plate.
"He's a little hungover. Guess he can't hold his dark ale," Chandler chuckled, reaching for a poppyseed muffin. They filled the rest of their plates in silence and headed for an empty table across the room. "So... You got any plans today?" He asked as they sat.
"I don't know if that's a good idea... to spend all our time together... we might miss out on some really great sights, you know?"
"There's only one sight I gotta see while I'm here and I want you to come with me," he answered cheerily. "It's kinda the whole reason I came when Ross invited me. And I'm nervous to go alone."
"Chandler..." she sighed with a tone of protest.
"You were worried about Richard seeing the picture, weren't you? Last night."
"I just didn't want him thinking the wrong thing. The picture looks... I mean, how you were looking at me..."
"Well, that's because you'd just said something to me," he offered quickly. "But you don't have anything to worry about. I, uh, kind of lifted Ross's phone after I got him to his room last night."
"You didn't!"
He grinned. "That damn Facebook. Sometime your posts just randomly disappear. Don't you hate it when that happens?"
"You deleted it?" she asked incredulously.
"H-oh, that's not all I did."
She pulled out her phone to check Ross's page. "Oh my god. He'll lose his shit!"
"Yeah, I know, but... not for another week at least. He's gotta see it before he can freak out about it." He watched as she smiled to herself, putting her phone away and picking up her fork. "So...? Got any plans for the day?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"I gotta go see a girl," he said, deadpan, around a mouthful of muffin.
"Where are we, again?" Monica asked as she followed Chandler out of the train station and onto one of the town's main roads. They had taken a train from Euston Street over an hour ago. He'd told her stories about his roommate, Joey, who was a sometimes actor and professional smooth talker. She'd actually seen him around with her brother a few times and had the experience of rejecting his advances firsthand. Now they were in a beautiful old market town. She was completely confused.
"This is Rye, in Sussex. And it's where I will introduce you to an amazing girl. But I haven't seen her for years, so..."
"The nerves?" She asked, assuming it would be an old college girlfriend or something like that. Chandler just nodded and led her further into the town.
They were approaching a grand old church, when he suddenly picked up his pace, jogging across the square toward an older woman, in her early sixties.
"Mem!" He called. The woman looked up and stopped walking at the same time. She dropped her carrier bag and Monica watched a loaf of bread tumble out.
"Chandler!" she cried so softly Monica almost didn't hear. She watched Chandler pull the woman into a tight hug, dwarfing her small frame with his six foot height. Pulling away, he motioned for Monica to join them.
"Ah, she's beautiful, darling," the woman said in a thick English accent as Monica reached them.
"Thank you," Monica said, extending her hand to shake.
Haha, Mem... This is my friend Monica." He said friend with emphasis and the woman smiled and nodded, reaching to clasp Monica's hand. "Mon, this is my... Mem," he introduced her a little awkwardly.
"Oh, are you Chandler's grandmother?"
"Ha! Phooey on that nonsense!" Mem said, bending to retrieve her bread as Chandler stooped to pick up the rest. "I was this boy's nanny!"
She invited them to her small flat for tea. Monica offered to cook something but Mem brushed her off. "I have no desire to make you wait on me, my dear, when you can have a lovely tea and then be off with you to dinner in the big city." She climbed a stool to reach into the back of a cupboard and rummage for a moment, before coming up empty. "But I have no qualms about sending Chandler to do my errands. Run cross the street to the shop," she instructed him. "I'm flat out of biscuits."
"You see how she treats me?" he said jokingly to Monica. "I'll be five minutes, Mem. Be nice." Without thinking about it, he shot Mon a wink before heading out the door of the flat.
Monica stood and began walking around the small living room that was very nearly a part of the kitchen. "I'm sorry. I'm being mosey."
"No, you go right ahead. It's all there to be enjoyed," Mem said as Monica reached for a framed snapshot sitting on an end table.
"Is this your son?" She asked with a smile. In the photograph, probably sometime in the eighties, a little boy sat next to a younger Mem on a piano bench. It looked like they were playing together, maybe singing.
"Heavens. That's your boy, right there. Seven years old. He used to play little tunes, and he would make up the funniest little songs." She poured hot water from an electric kettle into the teapot on the small kitchen table.
"Chandler?"
"Oh, yes. Could sell tea to a chinaman. Though I suppose that's not quite PC or what-ya-call-it these days." Monica was beginning to get that Mem was pretty feisty. Probably a great partner for verbal sparring in Chandler's youth. "He did little drawings too. Especially if he wanted something from Nora. Then in high school he joined the boarding school paper. Made his political cartoons. There's one, in that frame by the fireplace," she said, directing Monica's attention to the clipping.
"Wow, this is actually funny."
"Yeah, he's pissing his talents away now, collating data. But, he just wanted out on his own so bad that Nora's money, what help it might've been to get him into some kind of business, well... he was too proud. Tired of living off of her name, he called it. But I still love him like my own!"
"How long were you his nanny?"
"Mom let her go when they sent me off to boarding school," Chandler chimed in as he came back into the small kitchen, biscuit tin in hand. "Said I needed some distance from the divorce, so... So long Mem."
"But you never forgot me," she finished as he leaned down to kiss her temple.
"Forget the hot chick who used to tuck me in at night? Are you insane?!"
"So, did Chandler go through as many girls in grade school as he does now?" Monica asked with a mischievous grin, as she came back to the small table.
"Oh, but it never was like that. Most girls just never understood our poor boy."
"Ah, Susie 'Underpants' Moss," he said, a little wistfully. Monica gave him a questioning look. "Remind me not to explain that later."
"I used to think he would be alone and lonely forever."
"Thanks, Mem."
"But I just seem to have realized," she paused and winked at Monica. "That there is nothing wrong with Chandler that a good woman couldn't make right."
On the train ride back, they were mostly quiet. Then he suddenly began talking, almost in spite of the fact she was there, more than speaking to her.
"She was basically my mother, ya know? Even after they sent me away. I sent her letters, she knew about all the girls I was into... I only dated two girls in college. One was blonde, and dumb, and crazy eight ways from Sunday. Actually, her name was Sunday. But the other girl... Mem met her before she left to move back to Sussex. She said, 'Chandler, she will break your heart.' But did I listen? No! I just waltzed through that semester without a clue."
"What happened?"
"I found her making out with my RA... that was my clue. Not that she always wanted to stay over, but never seemed to stay in bed with me the whole night. That should have been my clue!"
"What's Mem said about all the other girls?"
"She hasn't. After I didn't listen to her about Lauren, she said I'm perfectly capable of making my own bad choices. After the RA incident, I never talked to her about that stuff. I hardly talk to her at all anymore."
"It sounds like... maybe when you were younger," Monica ventured, taking notice that somehow once again their fingers were entwined. "You needed her a lot. You know? You were missing so much back then." He nodded silently, still looking out the window. "But now, you don't need her so much. And that's not a bad thing. You know, she's so proud of you."
"Yeah?" he asked softly. "She knows I can do better with my life. That's why I was nervous about coming alone. It was amazing getting to see her after so long, though. And I'm so glad you agreed to come."
"I'm so glad I got to meet her."
They parted ways in the hotel lobby, both saying they were tired. He gave her a warm, full hug before kissing her forehead gently.
"See you tomorrow?"
"See ya at breakfast."
The next day was filled with meaningful glances and knowing looks across rooms. They agreed that they should spend at least a little time with Ross before the trip was over. His lecture would be the following day, and then they would all return to New York.
The three of them ate lunch together and went to The Tower of London and Piccadilly. It was beginning to get late in the afternoon when Monica mentioned that she would love to eat at the Cafe inThe Crypt.
"Why does that sound creepy?" Chandler asked, ignoring the urge to reach for Monica's hand for nearly the hundredth time that day.
"It's not..." Monica began, before her brother cut her off.
"It's in an old crypt and you eat over top of dead people! How is that not creepy?"
"Sounds like Ross won't be joining me... Chandler?"
"Uh... I'm brave. I, uh... I am brave." He stammered nervously, looking back and forth between the two siblings.
"Whatever. I'm going back to the pub," Ross announced.
"Okay. We'll see you at breakfast, then," Monica said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
After parting ways they made the ten minute walk to Trafalgar Square, being careful not to walk too closely and mistakenly brush up against one another. Chandler kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, and Monica used the excuse of navigating to stare quietly at her phone.
But soon they were seated at a small table in the crypt, waiting for their dinner.
"Okay. This is totally not as creepy as Ross said it would be," Chandler said, smiling past his glass of wine toward Monica. Then he glanced to his feet ghosting over the burial markers, and quickly back to his dinner partner. "Still a little creepy, though."
She laughed softly at his unease, shaking her head. "What faith were you raised in?"
"Well... My mother was a Scottish-catholic, and my father was a Vegas showgirl, so... Guilt... is my faith?" He smiled to show he wasn't serious. "I don't know. Lapsed episcopalian, I guess. We never went to church, and the only time I heard the name Jesus Christ was when my mom... or either of my parents, come to think of it, were... entertaining male company."
"Sorry. I just thought maybe your religion made eating here uncomfortable."
"Your faith doesn't make this uncomfortable for you?"
"Well... Lapsed episcopalian," she motioned to him before indicating herself. "Non-practicing Jew."
"Wow. I mean, Ross seemed so into the whole Jewish thing back in college. I'd of guessed the same for you."
"Well, you'd be wrong. I eat ham and decorate a Christmas tree every year." They both laughed at her brush off of the subject as their meals were delivered to the table. They talked about the beautiful architecture and art they had seen, and eventually they moved back to talking about the year they had met. Chandler was a college freshman and Monica was in her senior year of high school. "You know," she began, and it was probably due to the third glass of Malbec she was working on. "I had the biggest crush on you when Ross brought you home from college." Once she said it she hid herself behind the lip of her wine glass, taking another long sip.
Chandler was quiet a moment, leaning back in his chair. She expected some kind of joke, deflecting the truth of what she'd just admitted. But, uncharacteristically, he only softly said,"I didn't know."
"Well, neither you or Ross picked up on subtle cues much back then."
"You think that's changed?" He asked more animatedly. "I need a bomb to drop before I realize a girl might be interested. Of course, then I open my mouth and all bets are off."
"Why are you so hard on yourself?" Monica asked. She was getting upset with how often he made himself the butt of his own joke. "Mem said you used to write for your school paper. She said you were really good."
"No... I wasn't," he denied weakly.
"I saw some of your stuff. Your adds. It was really good stuff, Chandler. What happened there?"
"I wanted to do something with it. Maybe journalism or advertising..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And then I graduated and I needed a job. Then I got an apartment and I had to pay the bills. Then it's five years later and the temp job I was working at turns into a management opportunity. And now... Well I've been doing that for the last four years. I haven't written anything that hasn't had to do with numbers since... I can't remember, and... how the hell do you do that?" He asked suddenly. "I've talked more to you in the last two days about personal shit that I don't even wanna think about myself."
"Sorry," she apologized, even though she was sure he wasn't really upset with her. Just then she got an email alert on her phone.
Chandler took a last bite of his shepherds pie, giving her a chance to look it over. When he looked up again he saw a pained expression on her face. "Mon? What's wrong?"
"It's my mother. I can't do anything right with her!" She reached for the bottle of wine and drained the last of it into her glass. "More pictures of Richard's daughter and her two kids. 'Richard is so lucky to have a large family,' she said. 'It must be nice to have more than one grandchild,' like she'll never have any more!"
"Hey!" He reached across the table for her hand, ignoring their unspoken rule of hands-off. "Don't let that get to you. If anyone should be worrying about grandchildren, it's my mom! A great guy is going to kill for the chance to marry you, and to make babies with you. And to make you happy." He smiled wide trying to coax at least a small smile out of her. "And, hey! You've got Richard, so you're already halfway there!"
With that, Monica burst into tears.
"Okay, it's okay," Chandler soothed still holding her hand. He motioned to a waiter, "Can we get the bill?"
Eventually he had her calmed down enough to head back for the hotel. She would talk in bursts, almost randomly, trying to explain what had upset her so much. Chandler just walked along beside her quietly, an arm around her shoulders and hand in his pocket.
"I mean, my whole childhood it was comments about my weight. Not that she was outright mean about it, but... she was mean, you know?" She sniffles as they walked a few more yards. "Then I lost the weight. And it wasn't completely her... I needed to do it for my own sake. Also..." she hesitated noticeably. "I heard some guy I liked call me fat. I wanted to get him back, make him want me."
"I'm pretty sure you accomplished that," he said, without stoping to think.
"Yeah, well... After that there wasn't so much pressure from her for a while. Until Ross married Carol."
"Ah." He nodded, now thinking back to what she'd said at the restaurant. He really did need a bomb to drop.
"I've had to listen to criticism for years about my failed relationships. And now that I've been with a guy for more than five dates..."
"Five years," he said, his brain refusing to let him miss the opportunity to correct her.
"Okay... As soon as it looks long term with someone, she decides to latch on to the grandkids idea."
"So... isn't that... is that something you want?" he asked, trying to make it sound casual. He was afraid she might burst into tears at any moment.
"It's something I want."
He heard the tone in her voice that answered his next question before he'd even asked it. "But... Richard doesn't." He groaned at the irony of it.
"His kids are grown and he's a grandpa. He doesn't want to start all over again."
"Then why are you still with him, Mon?" Chandler stopped walking and turned her to face him.
"Because! I'm impossible. I'm a clean freak, a control freak, OCD doesn't even begin to describe me. I keep pushing people away, nothing sticks. Then I find the one guy who's willing to look past it as long as we never have kids together. I mean... this could be my one chance to last with someone. Who else is gonna want me?"
"Are you crazy?" he asked almost angrily. "Who wouldn't... Want you?" Before she had a chance to say anything in argument, he pulled her into a tight hug. "You gotta do it, Mon. If you don't want the same things... Look," he pulled back to look her in the eyes. "He may have already lived his life, but that doesn't mean you don't get to live yours."
After a long pause, she nodded her head once. "Yep... I'm gonna go get drunk."
"At least let me make sure you get back to your room okay."
"I think I can live with that."
He was brushing his teeth, comfortable in a tee shirt and sleep pants, when Chandler heard the knock on the door. He knew Ross was going over his notes for the next day's lecture, he'd left Monica at the door to her hotel room half an hour ago, and he hadn't called down to the front desk for anything. There was no good reason that his bedtime routine should be disturbed at... he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand... at nine fifteen!
But as he looked through the door's peephole, he saw Monica - still dressed in her clothes from the day, holding a rocks glass that he assumed held at least a finger of scotch.
"Hey," he said, holding the door wide.
"Hi. Nice PJ's," Monica greeted, breezing past him.
"You're not still upset about your mom's email, are you? Cause you know," he said, shutting the door on an empty hallway. "It's been an emotional night for you, you've had a lot to drink..." Reaching out, he took her glass - scotch rocks, with a twist - and placed it on the console table by the door. "You've just got to let that go, okay?"
"Would you be able to let it go? When I end things with Richard, she'll probably tell me I'm gonna be alone forever!"
"Hey, c'mere. Listen to me," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. "You are one of my favorite people. And! The most beautiful woman that I know in real life."
She smiled despite herself, and, knowing it was the alcohol lowering her inhibitions, she pulled back from the hug just enough to stretch up and brush her lips against his. He tensed at first and she prepared to step back if that was what he would rather do.
But then, his hands moved lower to the small of her back, and his mouth opened under hers. They remained embraced close, breathing heavily through each kiss, for a few moments at least. Then Chandler gripped her by the hips, making her thrill a little at first, and pushed her away.
"What was that? He gasped. "We were making out!"
"Not anymore."
"But we don't do that!"
"I know. I just thought it would be fun," she said, almost too quietly. She was determined not to be embarrassed about this, and she drew up her courage for what she would say next.
"How drunk are you?" he asked, with a concerned look marring his features.
"Drunk enough that I know I wanna do this," she said, more convincingly this time. "Not so drive you should be worried about taking advantage."
"Well, that's the perfect amount!" he announced, stepping in closer to her once more.
He pulled her close again and crashed his lips down to meet hers. She tasted bitter and like peat from the scotch she had been drinking. They stumbled backwards toward the bed and landed in a heap atop the covers. The fall broke their kids and Monica took it as opportunity to say something.
"You know what's weird?" As she asked, Chandler stiffened, expecting bad news. But she said exactly the opposite of what he was expecting. "This isn't weird!"
"I know," he smiled, relaxing as he realized he felt the same as she did.
"You're a really good kisser." As she spoke, his hands were stroking up and down her sides, just brushing the edge of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. She felt him smile where his mouth was pressed into the crease of her neck and shoulder.
"Well, you know, I have kissed more than four women," he mumbled against her skin. She chuckled low and it was a sound that made him ache.
She started pulling at the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and across his shoulders, until he had to lean back and let her remove it completely. He brought his mouth back to hers, his hands fumbling for the side zipper on the long, flowered dress she'd worn sightseeing that day. Once the zipper was down she slipped the straps from her shoulders and slid it down till it bunched around her waist. They had to move to go any further and after the dress puddled on the floor at the foot of the bed, Chandler pulled back the sheets.
"We're gonna see each other naked!" she said, climbing in beside him.
"I know," he said, brushing his knuckles across her collarbone and over her shoulder. "I can't believe we're about to do this."
"Do you want to do it at the same time?" She whispered, moving her body closer to him beneathe the covers.
He nodded and reached around her for the clasp of her bra. As she slipped his pajama bottoms down with her hands, he did the same to her bra straps. She had gotten his pants as far as she could with her short reach, so he took over for her, and let her focus on sliding off her panties herself.
"Okay?" he breathed out in question, searching her eyes for some sign that this was going too far.
"Yeah," she replied, smiling softly. Sitting up, loosely bring the sheet with her, she turned to face Chandler. He still had a look of amazement on his face, mixed with something softer that she wasn't used to seeing there. "Let me just..." she trailed off speaking as she let go of the sheet. Kneeling up a bit she let the cover fall away from her completely. With a burst of courage, trying not to hold his gaze too hard, she swept the cover away from him and lifted her left leg to straddle his waist. "Okay?" She asked this time.
He looked at Monica for a moment - at all of her - before replying with as little expression possible. "Well, I can safely say that our friendship is effectively ruined."
She matched him for expression as she answered, "We weren't that close anyway."
"You're amazing," he said, pulling her down on top of him and stealing her next words with a kiss.
Monica left for her own room while Chandler was showering the next morning. The next time they saw each other, it was over breakfast with Ross. They ate quietly listening to him review notes on his lecture, then the three of them walked together to the museum.
The exhibit space was large enough to accommodate the modest crowd of academics, as well as the few museum patrons who had been lucky enough to secure tickets to the exhibits opening ceremonies. A camera was set to film the speech to be played on a monitor at the back of the room for the remainder of the time the exhibit was in London.
As the room filled with people, Chandler shifted closer to Monica until he was brushing shoulders with her.
"I miss you," he whispered, eyes still facing the front of the room rather than locked onto her, like he wanted.
"I miss you too," she said, a hint of a smile creeping into her voice.
"Have you thought anymore about..."
"What we're going to do?" She shook her head, then, realizing he was still facing the pulpit, "No. You?"
"All I can think about. But... I need to talk to you..."
"Ross is up," Monica interrupted as she saw her brother heading for the pulpit.
They listened to their friend lecture as members of the crowd nodded and murmured along accordingly. Chandler was sure that, if not for the fact he was standing rather than sitting, and for the person he was standing next to, he would have been snoring five sentences in. His palms were sweating, his mouth was dry, and at one point, Monica brushed her fingertips across the back of his hand and he nearly bolted out of the room from anxiety alone.
When the fanfare - such that it was - was over, the three of them grabbed a quick meal in the Great Court Restaurant before heading back to the hotel to pack. They had a red eye flight back to Laguardia that was due to land at 7:15 am. They were meeting Ross to leave for Heathrow in an hour.
Chandler wiped his hands on his pants nervously before reaching out to knock on her hotel room door.
"Hi," Monica answered the door briskly, moving back toward the stack of clothes laid out next to her suitcase. "I'm just finishing. Shut the door."
"Hi," he responded latently. He'd only taken a few steps into the room, but already he couldn't seem to move his feet forward. He watched as she neatly placed the rest of her clothes into the case and zipped it.
She crossed the room to where he stood and reached up on her toes to kiss him. He let her, and for a moment his anxiety from earlier all seemed to melt away.
"Hi," she said again, pulling back from the kiss.
"Hey," he whispered, feeling her slip from his fingers.
"I just have to make sure I didn't leave anything in the bathroom."
"Sure," he called after her. "So... New York in the morning..." As she walked back through carrying a case very like what he knew to be birth control ills, his voice lost focus and he mumbled something incoherent under his breath.
"I guess so," she said, zipping the medications into a side pouch on her bag.
"Is he going to be at the, um, uh... At the, uh..."
"At the airport?" Monica finished his thought for him.
"The airport." He nodded and gulped.
"Yeah. He's picking me up. What about her?"
"Nah, I told her I'd take a cab. But she'll probably ignore me and come anyway, because she's Janice. So... Yeah."
"What are you going to tell her?"
"What're you gonna tell him?"
"I don't know yet." She blurted.
"Damn it. I was hoping I could use yours." They sat down together on the edge of the hotel bed, Chandler dropping his head to his hands.
"I can't help you break up with your girlfriend. I'll have a hard enough time figuring out my own break up."
"So, then... you do want... to?" He turned his head to look at her. This was what he had the hardest time with in relationships, the unmasked, the true interactions.
"Yes," she nodded, her look of distress fading to a smile.
"Okay, then, there's that thing I needed to talk to you about earlier." He stood and started slowly pacing the length of the room.
"Okay," Monica chuckled uncomfortably as he walked past her a third time. "Not making me any less nervous."
"Yeah, me either." He stopped and stood in front of her awkwardly. "Look, I've built my life since college around security. I feed ten percent of my paycheck into savings every month. I go to a job that pays the bills every day because it pays the bills every day. And I haven't had to think about what that would mean for another person in my life because, well... there hasn't been another person in my life for more than a month at a time."
"Chandler, what are you..."
"No. Let me finish. Please, Monica." But it took a moment for him to find his place and rhythm again. "I look at you and Ross and Joey... even your friends... I'm the only one who's not doing something I love. If we're going to start something that's as important as I think we both think it could be..."
"I think it could be..."
"Then I have to do something first. I have to find out if I can really be as good as Mem said I could. I owe it to her," Chandler sighed. "And to you."
"You owe it to yourself." She stood and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze.
"I know I can't ask you to wait for me..."
"I'll wait."
The plane was taxiing to the gate at Laguardia and Ross had switched seats with Chandler toward the beginning of the flight to be closer to the emergency exit. Chandler leaned closer to whisper to Monica.
"Six months. If everything's worked out for me... and you're sure you still wanna do this..."
"I will still want to do this," she interrupted him. "November seventh. Five o'clock. We meet in Central Park at the Cherry Hill Fountain."
"Right," he nodded. "And if you don't show up that means..."
"I'll be there."
"Right."
As they de-planed, he watched as Monica spotted Richard at the baggage claim. She gave him a full hug and handed off her carry-on as he kissed her cheek.
"There's my Bing-a-ling!" He heard across the baggage claim floor.
"Eh-hi, Janice."
"Dude. I just have to say... Thank Christ!" Joey walked into the apartment carrying three pizzas - the Joey special, and one for Chandler. "I ran into Janice at the pizza place and she told me you dumped her. She said something about, it's for good this time."
"Yeah," Chandler said, moving from his barka lounger where he was watching TV to grab his pizza box. "For what it's worth. Wait till your girlfriend drops you off at home before you tell her it's over. Cause ya know what she'll say? This ride is over!"
"Dude."
"Yeah."
"What happened?" Joey asked as he watched Chandler shuffle back to the chair with his pizza. "I thought you were gettin' serious this time."
"Yeah, well... I met someone in London..."
"In London?!" His friend interrupted.
"She doesn't live there, Joe. She's from New York."
"Oh, well... That's great. You know, Chan? You been back almost a week now. You don't introduce her to your roommate?"
"It's not that. It's just... complicated. Oh my god," he suddenly exclaimed. "We're a Facebook relationship status!"
"Yeah, I've been that before," Joey nodded sagely as he took a seat in his own chair and started in on his own pizza.
"Let me try to explain. This girl... When I get with her... it's gonna be great. Better than it's ever been, ya know? And I wanna make sure I'm gonna be great for her before that can happen. She's gonna change my life, Joe. I gotta be worthy of that."
"So, ya get better at sex. I can give ya a few pointers. Then what?"
"Not. Sex. Joe! I gotta get a new job, do something with my life!"
"Okay. Sure," Joey nodded, even though he thought that was a little extreme just to get a girl. "So, how long's that gonna take?"
"As long as it takes," he said with confidence. "Or six months. Whichever comes first."
Monica knocked gently on the door jamb of Richards office at his apartment as she peered at him through the open door. He sat at his desk in worn out blue jeans and an old Knicks tee shirt. He looked up from his laptop befor standing abruptly.
"Monica! I didn't know you were coming by tonight."
She hesitated in the doorway as he motioned her into the room. "No. I know. I came here to... I came here to..." She had finally gone with the idea that it would be better to rip it off like a band aide. But now she kept getting hung up on the words.
"Maybe you came to tell me why you said you've had to work late all week when I know you haven't." His tone was less accusatory and more curious, but she could sense that they both knew where this was going.
"Because I've been trying to avoid this conversation," she said by way of confirmation.
"Oh. Maybe I should sit back down, then." He said it, though he remained standing, leaving the desk as a barrier between them.
"I want you to know that I did love you, Richard."
"You did..."
"So much," she said, realizing how true it really was. "But now..."
"You're leaving me," he finished for her as she finally crossed the room to stand beside him behind his desk. "Ross posted a bunch of pictures from the trip," he said, turning back to his laptop. "Said he got hacked or something."
"Oh?" she asked, timid once again.
"Are you leaving me for him?" Richard pointed to the picture of the three of them that Ross had taken at the Grain and Gristle Pub. She looked hard at the picture for a moment before she turned her same hard gaze on him.
He may have already lived his life, but that doesn't mean you don't get to live yours.
"No." She said it with more confidence than she felt. "I'm leaving you for me."
"I ran into Richard today..."
It was three months since the trip to London, and Monica was folding her laundry while Rachel flipped through the new Vogue.
"Yeah?" Rachel asked, faking nonchalance. "How is he?"
"He's good," she said, shaking out a pair of uniform pants. "You remember his son, Tim? His wife is pregnant and due in February. Richard is excited; they're hoping for a girl. You know, cause Michelle has the two boys." She was rambling and she knew it, but it was just hard seeing Richard get excited about babies. Granted, they weren't his babies. Because he didn't want babies.
"Mon, honey," Rachel said, setting her magazine aside. "It'll happen for you, I promise."
"I know," she said, now pairing socks. She thought about Cherry Hill Fountain in November and it made her shiver.
"Oh, I have the best idea!" Phoebe piped up from the couch where she was attempting to come up with some new song lyrics. She set her guitar aside and sat up. "I've got this massage client, Steve. And you could probably get him to do it without a condom."
"Phoebe!" Rachel exclaimed. Monica could only stare in disbelief.
"He gets kind of weird when he smiles pot, though. Oh, and if he cries durring sex, it's not you. He does that with everybody."
"Oh, my god! Phoebe, no!"
"What? She hasn't had a date since she broke up with Richard! She doesn't have to get pregnant her first time out, but she's gotta do something!"
"Ya know. Mon. I think she might be right..."
"Rachel, I am not going on a date with Stoner Steve!"
"Hey! How did you know his nickname?" Phoebe yelled in surprise.
"No, not him!" Rachel continued, ignoring phoebe's exclamation. "I met a couple of male nurses on the subway the other day, and they asked me if I had a friend..."
"No, Rach. I really don't feel up to it right now." She knew the excuse was getting tired, but she only had to put everyone off just a few more months.
"Hey guys," Ross greeted as he walked into the coffee house late one afternoon. "Who's got plans tonight?" he asked.
"Ross, if you're gonna keep pretending to be a doctor, why ya gotta ask such ridiculous questions?"
"Oh yes. How could I have forgotten? Friday night means Joey's got a date with one of the many women flying through the revolving door of 'Joey Love'."
"Thats right," Joey confirmed seriously.
"What about you, Chandler?"
Chandler hesitated to answer. He had just two months to go before the meet up in Central Park. He could make up another fake date, but Ross might ask him about it later, and it was never fun ad-libbing a recount of a bad date. Plus he's done it enough that Ross was bound to catch on eventually. He groaned. "Well, it's date night so that means I'm completely free and clear."
"Great! There's this new bar in my neighborhood called The Game Preserve. We can go pick up chicks like we used to in college!"
"Except that you met Carol sophomore year and we never actually picked up any women in bars."
"Well we used our fake id's a few times," Ross insisted.
"And did Clifford Alvarez ever actually get a date?"
"No," Ross answered dejectedly.
"Besides, this place sounds like some bar for retired hunters. I don't know about you, but I prefer my dates to be a little more delicate and ladylike."
"And hot," Joey interjected.
"No, it's not like that. See there are all of these old arcade games from the eighties. Get it? Game preserve?"
"So, it's a video arcade with alcohol?"
"And women," Ross added, trying to sweeten the deal. "I figured it would be right up your alley."
"Eh... I'd like to, man, but..." He tried to avoid eye contact while he searched for an excuse. Work... work! That would be believable, right? "I should really work on this campaign for... coffee cup... cell phone... coasters..." He spat out the first few things he saw on the coffee table in front of him.
"What?!"
"He's just makin' an excuse cause he's savin' himself for some girl," Joey mumbled distractedly as he trailed the new waitress across the room with his eyes.
"Whadda you mean?" Ross asked before turning back to Chandler. "What girl?"
Chandler could only stare dumbly for a second before he heard Joey come to his rescue, or try to, at least. "The perfect girl. Yeah, Chandler's savin' himself for the perfect girl." When he'd explained everything to Joey back in May, he'd made his friend swear not to breath a word of it to anybody. The only thing he'd held back was the girl's identity. With as loose lipped and absent minded as Joey could be, Chandler was thanking all the gods right now that he'd stopped short of mentioning Monica's name to him.
But now to cope with this lie that Joey had pulled out of his ass.
"Haha, very funny, Joe," Chandler quipped in his best sarcastic tone. "He gives me a hard time, but... the truth is... I have the worst taste in women. There's always something wrong with 'em."
"Like the girl who's pinky toenails were too small to paint and they freaked you out?" Ross asked.
"It was like she only had eight toes!"
"Said the guy with nine and a half toes."
"The point is," Chandler barreled on. "It's stuff like that that's soured my outlook on relationships. So I've decided to try to hold out for the right woman. In fact! I'm thinking of giving up relationships entirely."
"Chandler, that's crazy!"
"Yeah. There's gotta be at least... a lot of girls out there with normal sized toenails."
"I'm going back to the apartment," Chandler announced, shaking his head at Joey. "I've got work to do. Enjoy your arcade, Ross. Joey, enjoy your revolving door of women."
The next month, the three women were already seated at the coffee house, talking about their plans for Halloween, when Ross and Joey walked in.
"Oh, look, there's Ross," Monica smiled, waving them over.
"God, I'll need another cup of coffee to get through this," Rachel mumbled as she stood and headed for the counter.
"Hey Mon, Pheebes. You remember Joey, he's Chandler's roommate."
"Yeah."
"Oh, yeah, we're really secret friends behind your backs," Phoebe announced. "Hi, gorgeous."
"Yeah, I actually don't know her all that well," he said to Ross, before turning back to Phoebe. "But, how you doin'?"
"You know it's funny we don't all hang out more. Next time we head over here we should call around to see what each other are doing," Monica suggested.
"You're in my chair," Rachel informed Ross coldly, as she walked back over from the counter.
"Are you sure? Maybe you told it you wanted to take a break."
"Okay, shots fired," Monica said, pulling Rachel over to a seat next to her on the couch.
"Maybe this is why we don't all hang out," Phoebe supplied.
"Hey, so, how's Chandler? I haven't talked to him since the flight back from London."
"Oh, he's doing good, actually. He got a new job," Ross said, proud of his friend.
"He did?" Monica asked with a growing smile.
"Yeah, he's a junior copywriter at some ad firm now."
"Wow! Kind of like on that show, Mad Men, where the secretary gets knocked up and then when she comes back she's a copywriter, but they still treat her like a secretary because women's lib hadn't really taken off yet."
"No. No, Pheebes. It's actually nothing like that. It isn't the 1960's and Chandler isn't a woman."
"Oh. Then why'd his parents name him that?"
Monica shot Phoebe a quick scowl before remembering that nobody knew about them yet.
"You know, they drink and sleep around with everybody on that show," Rachel commented. "I wonder if that's even still a little true in the ad world."
"I do t think so, but definitely not for Chandler," scoffed Joey.
"Yeah," Ross chimed in. "Craziest thing. A few weeks ago, Chandler says to me and Joey that he's giving up on all relationships."
"What?" Monica nearly choked on her tea. "Why?"
"I don't really understand it. But he said something about how he'd never find the right girl. I guess he's just gone on so many shitty dates in the last few months, he's discouraged."
"Yeah, the last gir he was with had really tiny toes or somethin'," Joey added.
"Janice?" Monica nearly whispered the question.
"Nah, that was over months ago, thank god."
Monica hardly heard the next few sentences. She was trying to focus on her breathing. Even if she felt like calling to accuse him of anything, she couldn't - she didn't have and of his contact information. Besides, what would be the point? Guys talked about the women they went out with, and Joey was his friend and roommate. If anyone would know if he was dating, it would be Joey. Right?
"Mon, honey? Phoebe asked if you wanted another tea from the bar," Rachel said, pulling her out of her fog.
"No thanks, Phoebe."
"Hey, Ross," Joey asked. "If they made all that money, and drank all that booze, and fucked all those chicks all the time... why were they such mad men?"
"At least he's pretty," Phoebe said as she headed to the counter for anothe drink.
"Five o'clock. Cherry Hill Fountain. Five o'clock." Chandler paced the small living room of his apartment as he checked his watch again. It was almost four o'clock. He had plenty of time. He didn't want to have plenty of time. He wanted to be standing next to the fountain, watching Monica walk across the gravel towards him.
It was November seventh. Six months after they met up in London, and it was almost time to head out.
"Hey, sweetie. You feelin' any better?" Rachel asked after she entered the apartment she shared with her best friend. "I got Vietnamese noodle soup and some old romantic comedies. Just what the doctor ordered for a cold."
Monica had called in sick to work that day. She'd been planing to do that part for the last six months anyway. But instead of bundling up and heading out to Central Park, she had spent the last two hours on the couch in her pajamas, staring at the digital clock on the cable box. It was now seven o'clock. He was probably out with some chippy with tiny toes right now. Unless he'd actually sworn off relationships like Ross had said.
It was almost eight now. He had started to get nervous after about ten minutes. Then after about thirty he'd started to worry. About an hour ago he'd convinced himself he'd made the whole thing up. Then he'd gotten extremely irrationally worried that maybe she was on her way to meet him and she'd gotten hit by a cab or something. Then he'd called Ross to make sure everything was okay.
"Hey, no disasters happen today, buddy?"
"What? Statistically speaking I would say there was probably a disaster somewhere in the last twenty-four hours, but..."
"Yeahokaygottago!"
If something bad had happened to Monica, Ross would be with her. Where the hell was she?
Monica huddled further under her grandmother's afghan as the movie played on.
"She's too proud to tell him that she's... crippled. And he's too proud to ask her why she doesn't come. But he goes to see her anyway, I forget why exactly. But oh, oh. It's so amazing when he comes to see her because he doesn't even notice that she doesn't get up to say hello. And he's very bitter. And you think he's gonna just... walk out the door and never know why. And she's just lying there on the couch with this blanket over her shriveled little legs. And..."
"Are you alright?"
"She's fine."
"And suddenly he goes, huh! And he sold the painting. And he like, he goes to the bedroom, and he looks and he comes out and he looks at her. And he just... and they know. And then they hug. And it's so..."
"That's a chicks movie."
"I would say so. Now, what kind of a person would write to someone they heard on the radio?"
"When I would stay home sick as a kid, I always watched this movie. I think it kept me believing in magic and looking for signs and stuff a lot longer than I was supposed to," Rachel said over the movie.
"There's no such thing as magic, Rach."
Finally, at midnight, Chandler decided to stop. He left the park and hailed a cab. He was done waiting. He had waited too long to go after the career he always knew he'd be perfect for. He'd waited too long for her tonight and he knew it. But she'd said she would be there. But that was yesterday... And he couldn't change yesterday. He was done.
"Man, you never come out to the coffee house anymore," Joey said as he handed Chandler his cup of coffee. "I miss this, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know. Glad I came," Chandler smiled. "This is nice."
It had been over four months since the night he spent, alone and cold, standing beside the Cherry Hill fountain. He'd avoided anyplace he thought he might run into her. It was frankly amazing he hadn't run into her at the coffee house over the last five years, but he hadn't been willing to tempt fate.
Look," Joey began seriously as he pulled a chair up to the table. "I know you've bee really bummed about that chick standing you up, but... for the love of god, don't call Janice!"
"I won't, I promise. Honestly, I've got other priorities. Like dropping the word 'junior' from my job title. But we'll see."
"I don't give a crap what your priorities are, dude. Hot mom just came in and she's headed for the sofa."
Chandler smiled and shook his head, twisting slightly in his chair to glance at the orange couch in the middle of the room. When he saw who was sitting there, he felt a fist clench around his heart.
She looked too skinny and her hair had grown out past her shoulders, but the smile on her face was big and bright and all Monica. And the thing that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that put that smile there, was the baby in her arms.
"Whoa!" Joey whispered suddenly. "Is that Ross's sister?"
"Yeah."
"What's she doin' with a baby?"
"Maybe she, uh... had a baby."
"Nah, I saw her with Ross a few months ago. Definitely not pregnant."
"That's good to know," Chandler said, breathing a literal sigh of relief. Suddenly, he heard Joey gasp.
"She's the girl! The girl you met in London, that lives in New York. She stood you up at the fountain!"
"Will you be quiet! And... yes. She's the girl. But you can't tell Ross. Besides, it doesn't matter anymore. It's over." He allowed his attention to drift from his roommate as he looked back towards the woman and child sitting on the orange couch. As he did, he caught sight of Richard Burke walking towards her holding two steaming coffee mugs. The man sat down next to her started tickling the baby in her arms.
And he knew he couldn't stay there a second more. He stood up to leave and scraped his chair back so quickly it clattered to the floor. The noise caused a lot of heads to turn, and, because God hated him, Monica was one of them.
They saw that they saw each other and he knew he would have to say something. So, taking a deep breath to steady himself, he started to take a few shaky steps toward the couch. When he was close enough that she would be able to hear him, he stopped moving forward. Her eyes hadn't left him yet. "Hi," he said.
"Hello," she answered back.
It was all he could do to keep from bolting out the door. Still, he had to get out of there, so he turned around deliberately, and walked out the door instead.
Wasn't that the guy from the picture?" Richard asked.
"Yeah," Monica nodded stiffly. "That was the guy."
"And he just walked out?" Phoebe asked excitedly as she passed Monica another of her oatmeal raisin cookies.
"He just walked out. You know that was a million times harder than it was to see Richard after we broke up last year."
Well obviously," Phoebe said. Monica had broken down and told her best friends as soon as she got home from the coffee house. "I mean, for one, you weren't still in love with Richard."
"In love?" Monica spoke around a mouthful of cookie.
"What did Richard say?" Rachel asked, reaching for another cookie. "I mean, he knows you're not interested in him anymore, so he's probably an unbiased opinion."
"Richard thinks I should get Chandler's number from Ross and call him. Just to find out what happened last year."
"God, that Richard is sexy and smart. Why'd you let that one slip through your fingers, Mon?"
"Phoebe!"
"Okay! Sorry!"
Chandler headed up the five flights with a sense of purpose. He would talk to her about things, and then he could truly move on. Ross had supplied him with her address once he said he needed to talk to her about some kind of restaurant marketing campaign. He was getting better at the cover stories. A little better.
As he stood in front of apartment 20 and raised his hand to knock, the door behind him swung loudly open.
"Hey!" an angry voice challenged from the doorway. Chandler turned to see a tall, wild-eyed man standing there threateningly.
"Hello there," Chandler said after a tense moment of silence.
"You know Monica?" The guy asked, suddenly switching to a conversational tone.
"Yes..."
"You know she's a chef, right? Amazing chef!"
"Yeah, I know she's a chef."
"Oh good. Hey, lemme ask you somethin'. She invite you over so you could eat Buddy?" Now he sounded concerned.
"What's a buddy?" Chandler asked, taken off guard by the question.
"Buddy is my fish, my buddy. And she's got him in there! I know it! She's cooking him for a dinner party or somethin'!"
"What?!"
Suddenly the door to apartment 20 swung open, emitting Rachel armed with a spatula. "Get inside, she hissed at Chandler. "Eddie, don't make me call security again!"
"There is no security here!" he challenged.
"Oh, yes there is! And they can see everything... through the camera in your ... TV! Now leave us alone!" she shouted as she retreated inside, closing the door and locking it. "Hey," she finally greeted Chandler, setting the spatula aside.
"Who was that?!"
"Oh, that's crazy Eddie. He's crazy."
"Yeah, I got that." He glanced around the apartment, then, remembering that he was there to talk to Monica.
"She's on the terrace," Rachel answered his unasked question. "And I was just about to go out for a coffee."
"Don't you need protection from the scary man across the hall?" Chandler asked as she reached for her purse.
"No. He'll be busy looking for the camera in his flat screen for the next few hours." She smiled encouragingly as she headed out the door.
"Hey, Rach, I was thinking of ordering Chinese for..."
Chandler froze the moment he heard her voice. He knew it was too late to bail, but he was having trouble convincing himself to say anything. "Hi," he finally said, turning slowly.
"Oh my god."
He watched her step back through the window from the terrace with an utterly stunned expression on her face. For a moment, all he wanted was to make her smile again, so he fell back on old habits. "Yeah, I get that reaction often on entering a room," he said with a dry smile.
"How did you...?"
"Ross," he explained.
"Where's Rachel?" She asked, moving toward the couch. She had on a heavy sweater and black pants, but she'd been barefoot on the terrace, and to look through the window, it'd started snowing while she was out there. Her toes must be icicles. He watched her pull her legs beneath her as she sat, spreading an old afghan over her lap.
"She, uh... walk." He fidgeted nervously with his tie as he remained standing in the kitchen.
"Oh."
"Where's Richard?"
"I don't know. Why? Did you come by looking for a good optometrist?"
"No. I just thought you two were... I mean, after last night... And the baby?"
"The baby is Richard's granddaughter. And, yes, we're still friends but I broke up with him ten months ago." She watched him shift from one leg to the other for a few Moore seconds before softening her tone. "You can come on in, you don't have to stand around in the kitchen."
As he did as instructed and made his way further in, Chandler looked again at the apartment. It was hard not to imagine himself waking up here to her making coffee, the smell filling the large space. "Nice place," he said, leaning on the back of the couch.
"It was my grandmother's."
"So," he said, shaking the notion of spending nights with her in this apartment out of his head. "I saw you... yesterday. And I thought, I'd better go apologize to her. I owe her a major apology."
"You thought that?" Monica asked, somewhat stumped. She'd felt hurt and betrayed four months ago when she heard he'd been seeing other women, but she never felt she was owed an apology for some reason. "Really?"
"Yeah, I mean, after all, I was supposed to meet you somewhere four months ago. And I didn't show. It was such a fucked up thing to do, the least I owe you is an apology."
"You... Oh..."
"Yeah, I got to thinking about how devastating that would've been if I'd shown up and you didn't, and how angry you must've been. You were angry, right?"
"Damn right, I was angry!" She said, finding her voice again.
"I mean it was cold that night, wasn't it? And spray from the fountain kept splashing the back of your coat as you stood there in the cold..." He paused to give his words a minute to sink in. "And you were probably really worried at first, because I had said I would be there no matter what. You thought about calling hospitals..."
"I did?"
"Yeah. But then you called Ross to make sure nothing had happened to me. And your worry started to turn to anger... maybe a little bitterness, before you finally caught a cab home."
"What time did I leave?" She asked in a small voice.
"Oh, it was after midnight."
"Chandler..."
"You know, I thought I was over you. Until last night when I saw you at the coffee house. And I actually thought to myself, what right does she have to be that happy after putting me through all of that?"
"I put you through...? Wait a minute now, what about what you put me through?" Monica said, raising her voice as she rose from her seat.
"What?" He asked, genuinely surprised now. "What are you talking about? What did I put you through?"
"Oh, come on! I had to listen to Ross and Joey regale me with stories about the string of completely inadequate women you've gone out with since London!"
"Joey!" Chandler stumbled and almost fell before grabbing into the back of one of her kitchen chairs.
"That's right! He told me all about Miss tiny toes!" Monica was unprepared for Chandler to start laughing at this point in the argument. "What is so funny?!" she demanded.
"I made her up!"
"What?"
"I made them all up. You are the last woman I've slept with, been to a bar with. I broke up with Janice as soon as I left the airport that day!"
"Why did you make up all those fake dates?" She couldn't figure out why she was still shouting, but she started taking some deep breaths to try and calm down.
"To keep your brother from trying to get me laid," he said, catching his breath from his wild bout of laughter.
"Because you wanted to..."
"Because I wanted to be with you," he finished for her.
She broke out into a thousand watt smile and vaulted the back of the couch, throwing herself into his arms. He made a silent prayer of thanks to all the gods real or imagined that he had actually caught her, before slanting his mouth over hers passionately.
Too soon he needed to lower her back to the ground in order to catch his breath again. "I can't believe we've wasted ten months," he whispered as he reached to the table for the package he had sat down there while Rachel was fending off crazy Eddie. "And I was supposed to give this to you back in November, but..."
"What is it?" Monica asked as she tore into the brown paper wrapping.
"I don't know. It came in a box from Mem that she sent me when I got my new job. I'm in advertising now, by the way." He smiled as she stopped her tearing to touch his cheek affectionately. "Anyway, that had your name on it and she wouldn't tell me what it was."
As she pulled the paper away, Monica recognized it immediately. It was the framed photograph of Chandler sitting next to his nanny, Mem, at the piano. It made her tear up a bit... But then he kissed her and soon that was all she was thinking about.
"Hey," he said softly half an hour later as she sat in his arms on the couch. They had been kissing lazily for the better part of that time, and he'd only just realized something. "Did the creepy neighbor-man kidnap Rachel? She never made it back here."
"No, she texted to say she's with Phoebe at the coffee house. They're probably gossiping about us right now."
"So, you told them about me?"
"Not till last night," she said. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah. Joey kinda figured it out for himself when I saw you last night. I'm pretty surprised he caught in before Ross did, actually."
"Oh, no! Ross!"
"Yeah, I thought maybe we should break it to him gently."
"That's good," Monica agreed. "We can take our time and fugue out the best way to tell him."
"Well, I can think of some things we can do in the meantime," Chandler said, snaking his hand up under the edge of her sweater.
Across the street, Ross sat on his couch, just finishing setting the projector up. He was looking forward to an evening alone with his slides. Getting up to close the drapes, he noticed movement in the window of Monica and Rachel's apartment.
But... Wait. Was that Chandler?
"No!" Ross shouted at the window, framing the scene like a picture. "What are you doing?! Get off my SISTER!"