Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings are mine.
It Does
Ross,
I'm sitting here waiting for you to come back from across the hall. I should be feeling worse about Bonnie-I mean, I feel totally shitty about-and it's got to suck being broken up with at a beach house. . .but I know she'll be okay in the end, and honestly I just want us too much to worry about anything else.
But before I can give in to US, I have to get these thoughts out of my mind and organized on paper. And it feels like a lot is going on up here, but as I'm writing this, I think the main points will be clear enough.
I know you didn't mean to cheat on me. I know that when I asked for a break, I got a break. I knew it that night and I knew it in the morning, when Monica asked me what had happened. I told her that we kind of broke up. I knew it all along. And I'm sorry for that. It was a stupid decision to make, and if I could take it back, I would. And I know that if you thought we were even a little bit together, you wouldn't have touched another woman.
That doesn't stop it from hurting. The thought of the man I love so much, in bed with someone else, regardless of the circumstances, breaks my heart. Of course, I forgive you, but it still hurts. In the same way it hurt you to think I had Mark over to sleep with him, it hurts me to know that you slept with her. But I shouldn't really compare, should I? Mark had been pursuing me all this time, and Chloe was simply there that night. You were right about Mark. You were right about so much.
But you were wrong about my job being just a job. Please understand. I never had the lifelong chance to build a career like you did. You had dreams of studying dinosaurs and worked your ass off to fulfill it, and now you're THERE, with a PHD and everything. I never had dreams. I was just supposed to be housewife. Everything changed when I left that life behind. I now know that I want a future in fashion, but I have to work twice as hard as everyone else to achieve that. I'm still at the bottom, at the beginning. You've settled into a good position; I'm still disposable. And I can't have that, Ross. Not when I've found something that makes me as happy as your career makes you. I need to fulfill this dream.
And that means there are going to be late nights and delayed dates, and I won't always be as present as I used to when I was waitressing, but I promise you, every moment I'm working late, I'm wishing I was home with you. When I'm finally settled, when I finally find my place, I can make them give me more free time without worrying about losing my job. This is a just a transition period. It's hard, but I know it'll be worth it. And there's no one I'd rather come home to than you. I want to share my good days and bad days with you. I want to fret over an upcoming project and ask for your advice. I want to be like you, when you talk about a new fossil; passionate and excited. You know you have my support in whatever you do. It would make me so happy to know that I have yours too.
This is longer than I thought it would be. I hope I've made sense. I hope you know that I love you, and that I know you love me. I don't know what's going to happen next, or whether or not we'll make it forever, but I don't want a break. I don't want a breakup. You ARE my lobster after all.
Do you want to work on these issues with me? Does that seem like something you can do?
Love, always,
Rachel
Ross held this single page in his hand, where she'd written on both sides, and sighed. It wasn't a sigh or annoyance or resignation. It was a sigh of relief. Folding the paper and stuffing it in his pocket, he tiptoed back upstairs and knocked gently on her door.
"Come in?" a small scratchy voice called from inside. Ross's smile widened and he entered to find her curled up on her side, her head lifted off the bed to get a good look at him. Her eyes were barely open and her hair was all over the place, and she had never looked more beautiful to him, ever, than she did right now.
"Ross. . ." she started shyly, rubbing her eyes with her fist.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"I read your letter."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"So. . .does it?"
He kneeled down beside the bed, brushing her hair out of her face so he could stroke her cheek. "It does." Her bottom lip quivered and she brought a hand to his own cheek, staring hopefully into his eyes. So he said it again, just for her.
"It does. It really and truly does."