That Previous Monday
Chandler stirred his half empty cup of white mocha chocolate absentmindedly as he desperately tried to think of some funny one liner to say once his best friend arrived at Central Perk. He hadn't seen him in what had to be three weeks and which in Chandler and Ross time amounted to a decade, give or take a few days. His excitement however was overshadowed by his guilt.
There were so many things he wanted to tell Ross and yet none could be articulated without choking in his mouth, physically incapable of confession. Chandler suddenly felt the tremendous urge to leave. He would run his way through the trenches and if he should confront Ross on his way out he would fire off an array of excuses about work or something.
Yet as much as he wanted to take off running, Chandler was weighted down by his conscience; and rendered paralyzed. When he resumed stirring his mocha he heard the rush of wind and New York City traffic from the opening door of the café. Something told him before he even glanced away from the table that it was his best friend. It was soon confirmed by the café owner Gunther's frown and muttered obscenities. Even though the door just allowed the entrance of one man, to Chandler, it felt as if the world flew into the cramped café and sat comfortably on his shoulders with a cup of coffee and copy of the New York Times.
Ross eased himself into Central Perk with the familiarity of twelve years of practice. He lightly stepped down the first step inside the café without even glancing down. He looked unbelievably comfortable in loose faded blue jeans and a fitting black t-shirt. His hair was lowly cut with light spikes and soft barely noticeable brown highlights.
These days the ease of his movements were probably the physical manifestation of his growth as human being. Ross nodded a polite hello to Gunther, who he was sure resented him, and yet these days it didn't really matter. Since the day Rachel stepped off a Paris bound plane and into his New York City apartment he knew it was time to change.
He was never an unpleasant person to begin with but once the love of your life nearly leaves your world, you find ways to better yourself. For instance, the biggest change in Ross these last two years was his confidence and security. His demeanor is that of a seasoned thirty year old who's secure enough to laugh at himself, calm enough to listen before speaking, and passionate enough to fight for what he loves.
These new characteristics gave Ross an attractive quality everyone couldn't help but notice. He actually had more single woman approach him now that he was married than he ever had in his awkward single days. However none of the attention mattered much to Ross because he had the love of a woman who loved him in his best and in his worst. Even she had to admit the mid thirties were an appealing age for Ross Gellar.
As Ross settled into the chair sitting opposite Chandler at the small table, Chandler silently wandered how it must look, the stark contrast between Ross' lively fresh features and Chandler's tired emotionless face. Ross ordered a coffee and seemed oblivious to the cute young waitress who kept smiling down at him. Finally Ross looked towards her and said politely, "I'm married." The waitress looked flustered and muttered "I'm embarrassed." "It's okay…usually I wear a sign but pink doesn't really flatter the outfit today so…" The waitress smiled and gave him his coffee on the house. Chandler couldn't help but give a light smile to his brother in law who finally found a sense of humor about himself.
"Okay so what's wrong?" Ross asked directly to Chandler who seemed caught off guard by the inquisition. Chandler contemplated uttering off some lie that would be lost in conversation. He just wanted this meeting to fade into the background of Central Perk, forgotten among the smells of the various coffee beans and sounds of the acoustic guitar on stage.
Yet the gentle brown eyes of his best friend demanded the truth. So Chandler jumped right in. "Ross…the suburbs…they're killing us." Ross look at him inquisitorially but remained silent. Chandler took in a deep breath and looked for some distraction within the café but after finding nothing he was forced to continue. " God, was this what we wanted? We thought it was…we were so damn confident. It was an ideal, we were chasing after what we thought we should want. Then after the twins got sick…everything was so empty. That's when I think we knew were dying too. She couldn't even look at me for months after they…" Chandler trailed off as Ross patiently listened to a conversation that required few words.
Ross remembered vividly the day the twins died. He remembered it so well because it was the saddest day of their lives. Rachel cried all day as she watched after their daughter Emma at Chandler and Monica's house. Joey accompanied Ross and Chandler at the hospital when they first got the call that the twins would have to stay overnight. Chandler who had already feared the worst, refused to let his exhausted wife endure anymore than she had to.
So Monica stayed at home while Phoebe resolutely stood by her side. The last month before that had been a stressful string of hospital visits for the twins and it seemed that their health was finally improving until Chandler called that October day and confirmed the worst. Ross clearly recalled the colors of the day because he saw the pale faces of the twins as the doctor declared them dead from a rare case of fatal pneumonia.
He saw the way Chandler turned white and passed out while driving back home that night. He saw the blood from his own knee pouring out from a broken bone cutting his skin after the car had veered off the road and hit a tree. He saw the bluish black bruise on Joey's forehead slowly growing as Joe attempted to call 911 from the empty road. He saw Chandler stunned and unharmed leaning against the tire. He remembered seeing Rachel's flushed red face running toward his hospital bed. He remembered the smell of that day because it was the smell of a hospital bed. It was the smell of salty tears; and it was the alcohol later that night on Monica's breath at the hospital as she screamed she hated this life.
Ross grabbed his best friend's shoulder and he saw the weight of the world Chandler still carried a year after their deaths. "Stop if you want Chandler, you don't have to say anything." Chandler violently shook his head and Ross could tell he was dangerously close to breaking down. In a strained voice he replied, "No…Ross there is something you should know about me and Monica…it's just that you're her bother and I…"
"Chandler right now, if just for this minute, I am your best friend, so what's going on?" Ross' face was now occupied with a very serious expression and his hands were braced on the table. Chandler continued slowly "I need for you understand that for nearly a year and a half now I've been at war with myself. Some days worse than others. Ross I refuse to be like my father, to leave my family. But tell me where is my family? Monica barely speaks or kisses me. We sleep in different rooms. The crying…the fighting…the alcohol….our kids… I just, I just think that maybe its over."
Ross sat there in his place stunned. Chandler rubbed the corners of his eyes and tried to manage the appearance of normalcy. Ross now noticed how tired his best friend's appearance seemed. No one would recognize him as the sarcastic twenty something that once daily occupied that couch just 8 feet away. Eventually Chandler stood up somberly and adjusted his gray jacket, pulling the already straight collar upwards. Ross remained silent as he carefully thought of what to say.
He wanted to rescue his friend from his despair, he wanted to downplay the issues discussed, but he knew each statement was true. For a rare moment words failed Ross and he just said with hopeful assurance, " Anytime you need to talk, you know I'm here man." Chandler nodded goodbye as if any hope he had left died and he walked out of the café quickly. He didn't look back at the place that was once his entire world. He guessed he always kind of knew he would be the first to leave.
