Monica sat in the dark of the kitchen refusing to move and forcing herself to breath. Every moment she was forcing herself to breath. Forcing every morning and every night. She wondered how long anyone could force life.
This had become her routine; her dance of suburban redundancy. These days her hair was longer and her appearance was thinner; she looked almost gaunt. Nobody had noticed though. A sharp honey colored drink was in her left hand as her right hand flipped through pages in her family photo album.
She smirked at the implications of the word family; her mother and father never appreciated her, Ross was too involved with his own family, and Chandler…well Chandler was too weak to deal with any of this. She sipped her drink slowly, valuing every taste; she had become quite seasoned with alcohol over the past year.
Monica's right hand kept moving until it came upon a picture of the twins, Jack and Erica with their surrogate mother. She should have known then, that moment was too good to be true. Happiness eluded people like her, she should have been smarter. It was all just the illusion of a dance they never knew. Now she danced alone without direction, without rhythm.
Just then Chandler fumbled into the kitchen door from the garage. She didn't notice him until he dropped his keys on the light wooden floor. He struggled to find his keys in the dark as he felt the floor and all the crumbs and dust on its surface; cleaning was an endeavor Monica had long forgotten.
Eventually he found them and forcefully threw them onto a nearby kitchen counter. Then the rarest thing occurred, Monica spoke to him without provocation.
She glanced towards her husband's direction and asked, "Are you drunk?" Her tone was curiosity much more than concern. Chandler surprised and angered simultaneously spattered back, " Would you notice?"
The arguments over alcohol had long ended and Monica just shrugged her shoulders indifferently. Usually at this point one of them would sulk in front of their TV while the other would go to bed; but tonight Chandler was slightly intoxicated, and that was all he needed to push the envelope further.
As Monica began to rise from the table leaving the album behind and continuing to hold the bourbon glass, Chandler stood in front of the door to the living room.
There they stood, two figures shadowed in the dark glaring down accusations and tension. For the first time in weeks Monica made eye contact with her husband. The more she glared, the angrier she felt, and she knew then that she blamed him for everything that had happened here.
Through clinched teeth Monica demanded, " Get out of the way." Chandler frowned at first but then started laughing slightly until it was border line hysterical. Monica just stared on unappeased.
Chandler laughed, "you want me to get out of the way…that is so funny cause you throw me into your mess constantly Monica. You blame me for everything, I see it in your eyes, I hear it in between the silences. So why don't we just be truthful for one damn second Monica. Just say it….say I killed them!"
Monica looked away forcefully and it was obvious that Chandler crashed through her mask of indifference. Chandler felt a brief rush of guilt and for a second he felt like he loved her again as she placed her drink down and sank against the table for support. Chandler swallowed the bitter taste and his mouth and took a step toward her. Monica tensed as she felt his presence approaching.
He stopped and stood three feet away from her small figure, pleading in his eyes and emotion burning with vodka in his chest. After a few
minutes of silence, that resembled eternity, Monica stood up fully and took a step forward until she was as close to face to face as their height difference would allow.
Her sharp blue eyes carefully examined his face and then she spoke her fatal words, "You still are nobody, Chandler. Yes
I blame you. I don't know why I'm still here. Now move." She slid past Chandler and began to walk through the door when Chandler shouted, "you're drunk, you don't mean this." Monica sighed tiredly "so are you Chandler." As Chandler began to fight through tears he solemnly stated, "I know you love me." Monica turned coldly, "whatever helps you sleep off that hangover Chandler."