"Hello," she said softly, her voice quivering. "It's me…"
The plastic bag disappeared in a flash as Chandler's eyes focused intently on his car parked out in front of Felicia's townhome. He could hear the hum of the traffic passing by, he could vaguely pick up the sounds of a small flock of birds in a nearby tree, but he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"Hello? " Monica said again, her eyes stinging with tears at the silence on the other end of the line. "Chandler? Can you hear me?"
With his free hand Chandler gripped his shirt against his chest, as though trying to keep his racing heart from escaping. He swallowed hard, then used the same hand to grasp the railing next to him, feeling lightheaded.
"Yes," he finally said in muted shock. "Yes, I can hear you."
"Good," Monica sighed shakily, putting a trembling hand to her forehead. "I, um…"
"Are you…are you in…California?" he interrupted, his voice barely concealing how stunned he was to hear hers. Shockwaves started to roll though him and suddenly he was frenetic. He turned toward the house, then swiftly back toward his car. He ran off the stoop and down the stone steps, nearly tripping off the bottom one.
"Yeah, I…I'm in San Francisco for a conference…" she said, beginning to nervously pace in the small space the phone cord would allow her to reach in her hotel room.
"Oh, yeah?" he said distractedly, as he fumbled to unlock the car with his key fob then jerked open the driver's side door.
"Yeah," she said, trying to take deep breaths away from the receiver to calm herself down. He was talking to her. Oh, thank God, he was talking to her!
"I…I'm opening my own restaurant next month and there was this conference my business partner wanted me to attend," she said quickly, beginning to anxiously ramble on. "He's, Cory, my business partner, is the…the business side of the, um, business and I'm, ah, ya know, the cooking side, but he…he thought it would be a good idea to go to this seminar for restaurant owners and…."
"Your own restaurant?" he said as he opened the glove compartment and dug out his old cell phone. He stared at it, listening to her and listening to his heartbeat thump directly against his ear. He blinked a couple times as it slowly dawned on him...this was real. She'd called him on his current phone, in his current life, and was talking to him.
His hand, still holding the old phone, dropped onto the passenger seat. He tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, willing his heart to settle down - willing his body to stop shaking inside.
"And, um, anyway," she continued, still pacing. "Tomorrow's the main workshop I'm interested in and then there's a reception to close out the conference and I…"
Suddenly she stopped, realizing she was going on and on about nothing truly important because she was nervous as hell.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking a deep breath. "Did I catch you at, ah, a bad time?"
"No, I…" he started, his heart slowing just a little. "It's just…I'm…I'm just surprised is all…"
"I know," she said quietly, sitting down now on the corner of the hotel bed. She closed her eyes. "So, how…how are you?"
He almost laughed. How was he? Reeling. That's how he was, but he couldn't exactly say that.
"Good…good. Fine. Yeah, real good," he said quickly. "You? How are you?"
"I'm…fine," she said, rolling the phone cord between her fingers. When he didn't say any more she cleared her throat. She'd called him for a reason.
"I…I'm in town until Saturday afternoon," she said nervously. "My flight leaves around 3. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier in the week but I…I…"
She didn't finish her sentence and she didn't have to. The awkward tension between them was easy for them both to feel through the phone connection.
"My seminar is over about 4 tomorrow," she continued. "The reception starts at 7, but I was…I was wondering if you would want to meet up for a drink or something in between or maybe, maybe coffee Saturday before I…go."
Chandler's eyes shot open and he stared out of his windshield, seeing nothing. His heart started racing again as he contemplated coffee with Monica on a Saturday morning. Oh, God.
"I…ah…um…" he mumbled.
"I mean, I don't know what…are you working?" she interrupted suddenly. "I mean, we could meet up if you're available, I…"
Monica swallowed back her tears as she waited for him to respond. The silence was deafening and seemed to last forever.
"That is, if you don't still hate me," she finally whispered, the pain now plain in her voice.
He furrowed his brow and shook his head, that comment finally prompting him to speak. He took a deep breath.
"I never hated you, Monica," he said quietly, sighing heavily.
Tears spilled to her cheeks as she heard him say her name - without spite, without malice - just like he'd said it a thousand times before. No one had ever said her name like he did. She cleared her throat.
"Really?" she said, with as much confidence in her voice as she could muster.
"Of course not," he said softly, squeezing his closed eyes with his forefinger and thumb. He sat up a little straighter in the driver's seat and shook the cobwebs out of his head. It had been three years. Certainly he could meet her for a drink.
"Yeah, sure we…we can do that. I can…I can meet you tomorrow afternoon," he offered.
"Really?" she said, wiping her tears with her palm. "OK. OK, great!"
He smiled sadly as he heard the classic Monica enthusiasm in her voice. He was relieved that hadn't changed.
"Um…I guess the next question is where," she giggled nervously, as the stress she was carrying around with her turned from a batch of anxiety to cautious excitement. Her stomach ached, but this time she could feel just a few butterflies. If he was willing to meet with her, that was a good sign. She couldn't stop smiling.
"Oh, yeah, there is the question of where," he said, trying to make his mind focus, "um…is the conference at the convention center downtown?"
"Yeah," she said. "I'm staying at the Hilton on Howard Street."
"Oh, yeah, OK, I know where you are," he said. "There is a place called the B Bar close to there..."
"Oh yeah, yeah, I've seen it!" she nodded, knowing exactly the place he was referring to.
"OK, I, um, I'll meet you there? Around 4:30?" he asked, his brain still not quite comprehending he was having this conversation with her.
"Sure!" she said with more spirit than she meant to. "I'll…I'll see you there."
"OK," he said, smiling just a little, then adding with a hint of nervousness. "OK, then, so I…I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes," she said, smiling into the phone. Then she frowned a little, as it hit her that she was actually going to see him for the first time in three years. A cascade of emotions began to race through her, so many that she just prayed she could harness them before she saw him the next day.
"We have…we have a…a lot to…to talk about," she said, tentatively.
Chandler closed his eyes then glanced over his shoulder, back toward the townhouse. Sadie was looking at him through the large bay window. She smiled big and waved frantically to him as he caught her eye. He smiled a little and waved back.
"Yeah," he said quietly, facing forward again and putting one hand on the steering wheel. "Yeah, we do."
Monica just nodded, gripping the phone tight once more. She wasn't sure she wanted to let it go, let him go.
"OK," she said with a nod. "OK, so I'll see you then?"
"Yeah, I'll be there," he promised, then added after a moment. "And….Mon?"
"Yeah?" she said, her hands beginning to tremble again. She heard him take a deep breath.
"Thanks for calling me," he said, honestly, and not only meaning when she'd called him right then.
She gasped a little, then smiled as her eyes watered once again.
"Thank you for answering and…and talking to me," she whispered.
He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat.
"See you tomorrow," he said. "Bye, Monica."
"OK," she said, nodding to herself. "See you then, Chandler. Bye."
Chandler pulled the Blackberry away from his ear and watched as the screen went blank. He put it next to him in an empty cup holder. He looked at his old cell phone, then buried it back in the glove compartment, slamming it closed.
He started the car and put both hands on the steering wheel, locking his fingers tightly around it and rocking them back and forth.
"Oh my God," he whispered, his heart still thundering.
At the same time, in the hotel in downtown San Francisco, Monica hung up the phone and stood up from the bed.
"OK, OK," she whispered to herself over and over again as she smoothed the front of her skirt a half dozen times. She wrapped her arms across her chest and began pacing one more time, knowing she wasn't going to get one ounce of sleep until she laid eyes on him again.
And maybe not even then.
###
"Hey, um, listen," Chandler said as Felicia walked back into the kitchen after putting the girls to bed. "I, ah, I won't be able to get Sadie from school tomorrow afternoon."
She picked up the last of the Chinese food cartons and threw them away, cocking a bemused eyebrow at him.
"Oh, you're gonna be in big trouble, mister," she said, with a little smile. "You better have good excuse. Steve call about that house, again? Sadie told me you were on the phone in the car earlier."
"Ah, no, no, that's not it," he said, folding the dish towel and hanging it neatly on the dishwasher handle. Felicia looked at him curiously.
"What's going on?" she asked. "You've been quiet since you came back with dinner."
Chandler took a deep breath and did his best to sound as unaffected as possible.
"That was…earlier in the car….that was, ah, Monica on the phone," he said, wincing a little.
"Monica?" Felicia said, confused. Then it dawned on her as her face broke into a look of surprise. "Monica. Your ex, Monica?"
"Ye...yes," he replied. "She, ah, apparently she's in town for some conference and wanted to know if we could, um, get together for a drink before she left. She leaves for New York late Saturday…"
He sucked in his breath, a part of him wishing Felicia would say "no" so he could get out of it. Now that he'd had a few hours to think about it, the thought of seeing Monica again after all this time - with everything as truly unresolved between them as it was - was beginning to spark some serious anxiety in him.
The other part of him was daring Felicia to refuse to let him see her, the ensuing argument making him feel less guilty about wanting to have drinks with his ex-girlfriend.
Felicia cocked her head to the side, studying him. It was the way she studied potential jurors and it made him even more nervous. He stood up a little straighter.
"That's ironic," she finally said. "Did you tell her about next week?"
Chandler diverted his eyes and shook his head.
"Ah, no, no, it didn't come up, no," he said.
She raised her eyebrows at him, but still didn't respond.
"Look," he said finally, walking over to her. "She and I, we were…friends for a long time before we…were…anything more. She's…she's an old friend."
No, that was a lie. She was so much more than that, he thought. But, going forward, that's probably all she would be.
She looked at him another moment, then to his surprise, she shrugged and gave him a little smile.
"Sure, you can go," she said, gazing up at him as her fingers ran up his arm, "but thanks for asking."
"I wasn't really…but, wait…really?!" he said, caught off guard by her casual response. She just nodded.
"Sure," she said with another shrug. "I mean, look, you have this great bromance going on with my ex…"
"Oh, for God sake…" he said, smiling a little.
"I question your judgement on that, but really I don't know anything about your friends in New York," she said, then her eyes lit up. "Hey, why don't you invite her out here for breakfast or…or brunch Saturday before she leaves."
"Oh, I don't know…" Chandler said, almost physically blanching at the thought.
"Why not?" Felicia asked. "Like I said, you know Pat really well. It's only fair I get to meet Monica, right? Besides, this is the first time any of your friends in New York have ever been out to see you, right?"
"Well, yeah, but…"
"Come on, it'll be fun," she said, a little gleam in her brown eyes. "I'll even cook up something. Breakfast is my specialty."
She smiled at him, but he couldn't help but think that breakfast really wasn't her specialty.
He shrugged.
"OK, I'll ask," he said, not at all crazy about the idea.
"Great," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I gotta answer a couple emails. See you in a few."
With that she turned and walked into her office.
Chandler plopped down heavily on the kitchen island stool, palms to his forehead as he leaned against the cool marble. He let out a deep sigh, wondering how in the hell the last three hours of his life had unfolded.
And how in the hell he was going to make it through the next day.
NOTE: Thank you so, so much for your reviews! I truly appreciate each one.
BTW - The B Bar is a real place. I don't know if it was there circa 2003, when this story is set, but it looks super cool. Google it - I wanna go!
Hope you're still enjoying this…things are getting interesting now… ;) Warning…I'm not 100% sure when the next update will come, but it will come. I promise :)