February 1987
During the holidays, Rachel made a pact to herself to just pretend like first semester never happened. The last part of 1986 was in the past. She would not discuss the pregnancy, the abortion, her meltdown at Homecoming. If anyone did ask, she would just shrug it off. She went about her school days as if nothing were wrong and during the holidays, went from one party to the next. She did drink a little more at these parties but kept that private as well. After the holidays, she decided to focus on charity work or really, more importantly college. She wanted to get the hell out of Long Island. That was her secret dream. She started to go to the library to find out about colleges. She thought of going to a school like Parsons or the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City or Pratt in Brooklyn and she could study fashion. She could study merchandising or marketing or design. She imagined herself designing clothes of her own, having her own label. Maybe it could be called, "Green" or "Rachel Karen." She liked that a lot. Designs by Rachel Karen. She practiced writing it down, seeing which signature she liked the best. As she researched though, she found other fashion schools in Los Angeles and Ohio and Savannah, Georgia. She found some in Texas and Chicago and San Francisco and her mind began to wander more. What if it wasn't just Long Island she left, what if it was New York completely?
"Here's another one," Ross said, dropping another book about colleges on the table where Rachel was scouring through them. Ross volunteered in the library and he would often get Rachel books. He plopped down across from her and leafed through one of the many books on schools.
"Ross….would you ever consider leaving New York?"
"Hmm...well, I'll probably be going to NYU next year so no. Do you wanna leave New York?"
"I don't know. Maybe Los Angeles? I can go to the Fashion Institute."
"But you'd miss New York. Wouldn't you miss it here?"
"I would but maybe I could build a whole new life, you know...a life where I'm not a mean girl or a slutty girl or whatever the hell people think of me."
"I don't think you're either one of those things," Ross said.
"You're sweet."
"Hey, can I ask you something? I mean, it's probably none of my business...but are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"I know, it's just last semester-"
"I'm fine."
"There was a rumor-"
"I'm fine. Please, drop it."
"Okay. I don't think you should leave New York," Ross said.
"You don't?"
"No, you belong here. This is your town. They have no weather in Los Angeles and...and I think New York is where you belong," Ross said.
"Really? I don't know….sometimes I think I should go somewhere. I'd love to..do something else. Be away….be someone new."
"You can find yourself here...besides you'd have to drive in L.A. and you're a horrible driver," Ross teased.
Rachel smiled and shook her head as she continued to look through the books. Ross soon left her alone as she continued to browse. Writing down some of the cities that some of the fashion schools were located in, she got up and walked towards the geography section and began pulling out books. What would it be like to live in Los Angeles, walking along the beach in the constant warm sunshine or be amazed by the architecture of Chicago? Or maybe Ross was right….she belonged in New York?
When she got home, she found her mother sitting in the kitchen looking through travel magazines and writing notes down on a pad of paper. Rachel grabbed an apple and a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down with her mom and began looking at the magazines.
"What are doing?"
"Oh, your father and I were talking-"
"Talking not yelling?" Rachel asked, muttering slightly.
"Yes...we were thinking that during Thanksgiving this year, we're going to go to Europe."
"It's only February."
"I know, I know. We're in the planning stages, of course. I have to set up an appointment with the travel agent. So what are you doing, sweetie?"
"I was at the library. Mom, what if I went to college in Los Angeles or San Francisco...or Georgia."
"Why would you do that?"
"They have schools in fashion and I could get out of New York and see the world outside of Long Island. I could go to California and study fashion and-and they have totally different fashion styles there. 'Cause in L.A., it's warm even in the winter….it would be so amazing and then what if I got an internship or a job and I could learn how to make clothing professionally and…."
"Are we still on the fashion thing?"
"I didn't know we got off of it."
"Rachel, honey, it's a great hobby. It is. I so love that you enjoy doing it but it's a hobby."
"It's a hobby?" Rachel asked, her heart breaking a little.
"When you start looking at colleges, it's probably better to stay around here. You're very sweet and kind and I don't know if a big city is good for you and you'll meet the kind of man you should marry around here,"
"So you don't think I'd make it in the city?"
"I don't mean that as a bad thing. You're a people pleaser. You're like me. Look at schools here, trust me. You'll be happier and your major doesn't really matter. You're not going to college for a career."
"I'm not?"
"No. You're going to meet a husband."
"Oh. Okay."
Rachel let that sink in and soon began second guessing herself. What if her mom was right? What if leaving New York would be bad. Maybe she was supposed to live and die in Long Island? Maybe she was where she was supposed to be?
In addition to applying to schools, she figured she'd add volunteering to that list so she tagged along with Monica to work a night at a soup kitchen. She figured she could at least put it on a college application although Monica was clearly more into it than she was. Monica made filet mignon and macaroni and cheese and potatoes and sausage. Rachel was bored. It was unseasonably warm for February and it smelled in the soup kitchen. She was picking at her nails through her latex gloves, not quite helping.
"It is so hot in here. Why doesn't someone turn on the air? It would probably help clear out the smell," Rachel whined.
"Rachel," Monica said as she spooned a helping of mashed potatoes on to a plate.
"What? It's called deodorant...or a shower," Rachel said.
"They're homeless," Monica said through gritted teeth.
"Whatever," Rachel said rolling her eyes.
"Why are you here?" Monica asked.
"Same reason you are, it'll look awesome on a college app."
"That's not why I'm here."
"Oh, it's why I'm here," Rachel said, letting out a sigh. She was not in a good mood. Her emotions really felt all over the place. She was happy one moment, pissed the next. She wasn't sure what was going on. She had been in a fine mood in the morning and then when she had talked to her mother, she was now upset about everything. Maybe volunteering was a mistake, after all she was destined to remain trapped in Long Island.
"Oh my G-d, Lincoln High?" Monica asked. Rachel looked at Monica and then at the four people standing in front of them. There was a tall blonde girl with stringy hair wearing a Lincoln High sweatshirt standing with an older guy and two other skinny looking people that looked to be young as well.
"Uhhhh..." the blonde said.
"Rachel, she went to Lincoln High," Monica said.
"Yeah, cool," Rachel said, letting out a sigh. She really wanted to care but that made her depressed as well. This blonde chick went to Lincoln and was now homeless? That was depressing, maybe she needed to rethink going to college in another state.
"When did you graduate?" Monica asked.
"I-uh...I didn't...this is my um...dad's," the blonde said, reaching for the arm of the older gentleman behind her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled.
"That's my girl," the man said.
"Oh...well, okay...well, what would you like?" Monica asked
"Uh, does any of this food have meat in it?" The blonde asked which caused a loud, annoyed grunt from Rachel.
"Um...beggars can't be choosers," Rachel muttering, knowing that sounded mean but not caring. She wanted to be anywhere else.
"Rachel. Forget my friend. These dishes right here do not have meat. I made them myself. macaroni and cheese, potatoes au gratin and potatoes with peas and onions...and these are the meat things...sausage and smoked salmon and oh, filet mignon," Monica said.
"Mon, why did you make that?" Rachel asked.
"'Cause Rachel just 'cause you're homeless doesn't mean you can't eat fancy," Monica said, giving food to the blonde girl and her friends. Once they left, Monica turned to glare at Rachel.
"Was that necessary?" Monica asked.
"They're homeless, what the fuck do they care what they eat? They should just be grateful they're getting fed," Rachel said.
"Go wait in my car if this is how you're gonna act. This is important to me," Monica said.
"Oh, no...no, not a chance in hell am I gonna wait your car. In this neighborhood, gross. Ugh. Never been so happy to ride in a Volvo. At least I know you we won't get murdered."
"Rach...come on," Monica said but was soon distracted by serving the homeless people approaching her. Rachel was just not into it. There was a party later, maybe she'd be in a better mood there but she doubted it. Being around these people upset her, being in this neighborhood depressed her. She let out an annoyed sigh and thought of maybe taking a cab away from here but was suddenly distracted a sound. A laughing sound. Rachel looked over and noticed the blonde girl was laughing about something. It was this weird, other wordly sounding laugh that seemed to start from her nose and just sounded so bizarre. Rachel and Monica exchanged a look and smiled at each other.
"Wow," Monica said.
"Yeah, I know," Rachel said.
After all the food had been served, all the servers began mingling and Rachel reluctantly followed Monica to the table with the blonde and her friends. She grabbed her compact out of her pocket and began to look at herself, making sure her make up was okay while Monica socialized.
"Hi, I'm Monica and this is Rachel. We're juniors at Lincoln High. You went to Lincoln High?"
"Uh, yeah..." the older guy said, "A long time...back in...well, I don't wanna age me."
"Oh, ewww...what is wrong with you? Why are you talking to your hand?" Rachel asked, noticing the blonde's skinny friend talking to his hand. What was wrong with people?
"You're a gem," the blonde said.
"Fine. Mon, we have to go," Rachel said, slumping down in her seat.
"You made all this food? It's really good," the blonde said which made Monica smile.
"Yeah. I volunteer here a lot and I thought it would be a nice change of pace to make fancier food and...yeah, so I cooked stuff," Monica grinned.
"Thank you...you seem very sweet," the blonde replied.
"Thanks," Monica said.
"Uh, G-d...we have to go. We have to be back in Long Island in an hour. If we don't show up to Serena Waldorf's party tonight, she is so going to hook up with Chip. That will ruin me," Rachel said. Serena was a new girl at Lincoln High and Rachel hated her. This girl was beautiful, blonde, thin and there was always a possibility Chip would like her. Rachel and Chip were back together but she didn't trust him. He flipped on her so much. G-d, she could not wait to leave.
"Never mind her. She's just upset because Chip like to sleep with other girls when Rachel's not there," Monica said.
"Monica," Rachel said.
"What?" Monica asked, glaring at her. Rachel knew Monica was pissed at her but she didn't care. As she looked at herself in her mirror, she imagined her mother. Her future, she would be a doctor's wife, a lady who lunched, who did nothing but watched soap operas all day although that last part didn't sound so bad. She loved soap operas, the drama, the intensity. She wanted that in her life, but maybe that wasn't the life she was destined to have? She was in the city now, granted it wasn't the greatest part of the city, but still she didn't love it. She needed to stay put, that would probably make everything easier.
Driving back to Long Island, Monica could not stop talking about the group that they had been sitting with. She kept going on and on about the girl's laugh. Rachel stared out the window, it looked like a different world, so different from her Long Island home. Long Island felt comfortable, it was her comfortable prison.
"I've never heard anyone laugh like that. I mean...it was so amazing and she was so happy and-" Monica rambled.
"She was probably on drugs."
"Rach, come on."
"What? She was homeless. She's most likely homeless 'cause she's a drug addict and like she'll probably die of like some virus or whatever because that's what happens when you're a drug addict."
"She like our age and she was with her father."
"I doubt it. I bet it was her pimp. Look, she seems...weird and it's great that you felt all selfless and stuff...but she's a druggie. You will never see her again because drug addicts usually die and if that guy really was her father well that is just pathetic that he couldn't provide a better life for his daughter and that girl...okay fine, she has an awesome laugh but let's get real. Homelessness is something you bring on yourself. She's homeless because of an addiction or something her father is addicted to...they're just lazy."
That's what her father had always told her...
"Wow...you're a horrible person," Monica said.
"I am not. I'm being honest."
"You're honestly horrible."
She really wished people would stop labeling her. Telling her who she was, what she was. She wished she could tell people to stop. She wasn't a bad person. She was doing as she was told.
"I'm not horrible. Really. I'm not. That was an amazing laugh," Rachel said.
"It was."
"I hope she doesn't die of drugs because people who laugh like that should live a long time," Rachel said, smiling a little.
"I'm not sure how to respond to that," Monica said.
"What? People who laugh like that make people happy so they should live a long time and not be addicted to drugs and die."
"Okay, then. I agree, I think," Monica said.
"Although, I don't really buy those stories. The ones she was telling us."
"Why not? You think she was lying?"
"I do," Rachel said.
"Why?"
"Because people who have really gone through serious stuff aren't gonna reveal themselves to stranger in a soup kitchen who is just doing this so it looks good on a college application."
"That's not why I did it Rachel."
"Yeah, well...I just wanna go to this party."
Rachel knew from the moment those homeless people had begun talking that everything they said was bullshit. Monica didn't, Monica was sweet and innocent, far more innocent than she was. Yet Monica would probably end up living in the city, leaving Rachel behind.
"Rachel?"
"What?"
"Last semester...were you pregnant? And did you have an abortion? A lot of people are saying you did-"
"Those people are assholes."
"You'd tell me if you did, right?"
"Of course," Rachel said.
There was a heavy silence in the car, broken only by Rachel reaching down and turning on the radio. Cyndi Lauper's, "True Colors" began filling up the car. She was tempted to change the station but instead stared sadly out the window. She saw it all fade away, the dreams she wasn't meant to have. She almost felt jealous of that homeless girl with the laugh, she got to go somewhere, be part of the world. At the same time, she was also jealous of Monica. Monica was so sweet, she could totally imagine Monica with an amazing husband and kids. She could see herself….stuck. She thought of the abortion, what if that had been her ticket? What if her decision to abort had been the wrong one? Maybe she could have raised a child? She could have gotten a job in a store, raised her child, gotten her GED, maybe aborting her pregnancy had been a mistake?
"Next year gonna be our last year as friends, right?" Monica asked.
"What?" Rachel asked, giving her a look. What was she talking about?
"We're seniors in high school next year and then we go to college. You're never gonna speak to me again...after we graduate?"
"You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?"
"Yes. I just want to go to this party," Rachel said, reaching for her purse and pulling out her make up bag. She flipped down the visor and opened the mirror and turned on the mirror light. She began to reapply make up, this time to the tune of "Walk Like an Egyptian". Rachel thought of what Monica was saying. Would they be friends after graduation? Were they ever really friends? Maybe they wouldn't be friends? Monica would probably go to a college in the city and they would drift apart. Then she'd be alone with fake friends and trying to find her husband. Her head was starting to hurt and she needed to get out of the car. Out of Monica's icky Volvo. "Stop," Rachel said.
Monica looked confused. They were still several blocks from Serena's house, but Monica did as told and pulled over to the side of the road. Rachel grabbed her stuff and got out, looking back in at Monica.
"Sorry, hon...I can't be seen pulling up in a Volvo station wagon. Too embarrassing. I'll see you inside," Rachel said, as she slammed the door shut and walked off. Rachel kept walking and walking until she knew she was completely alone in the darkness. Monica had not driven after her, she wasn't quite sure where Monica was, thinking she would have driven past Rachel or next to her, maybe Monica had taken off. Or not. Rachel stopped and looked up at the sky. She saw an airplane go across the night sky and she wished she could be there. She thought of that stupid boy again, Chandler, with his dumbass pranks. Peanut butter on her car? How dare he? She felt herself wanting to cry again although she wasn't sure why she was so sad, she had made the decision and she had chosen to terminate her pregnancy. It was her decision but it still rocked her, still made her sad. What if that had been her only shot? She kept walking towards Serena's party, she needed to drink and even though she disliked that new girl, Serena, she had heard Serena's parents were pretty lax when it came to underaged drinking.
When she finally reached the party, she walked in and straight towards a table of alcohol. She decided on cranberry and vodka and turned to see Chip already talking with Serena. She sauntered over to them and stepped in between both, grabbing Chip's hand and kissing him.
"Hey, Rach," Chip said. "Drinking?"
"Yep...'cause I can. Not like I'm pregnant," Rachel grinned, ignoring Chip's look. The two walked over to a couch and sat, Rachel putting her legs on his lap.
"You alright?"
"Yeah. I'm fine...Chip, would you ever wanna move out of Long Island?"
"Why would anyone wanna move out of Long Island?"
"There's a whole world out there."
"It's overrated. I got it made, a great job at the movie theater….you love it."
"I do like seeing movies."
"My parents are awesome."
"They're never home."
"I know. It's awesome. I got a great life. I will never leave Long Island."
"Neither will I apparently," Rachel said as she took a big gulp of her drink.
"Good, maybe after high school, we will get married and we don't even have to look for a place. We can live with your parents or mine….it'll be awesome," Chip said, "could you think of a better life?"
"No. No, not at all...sounds positively dreamy," Rachel said as she kept drinking, cup after cup until she could feel the world spinning around her. As she went for her countless cup of vodka and cranberry, Ross appeared in front of her.
"Hey, Green….wanna lighten up on those," Ross smiled. clearly playing with her. Rachel was in no mood.
"Shut up."
"Where's Monica?"
"I don't know."
"Didn't she drive you?"
"I don't know where she is….stop being an idiot and leave me alone," Rachel said as she practically stomped away from him towards Mindy and Sharon.
"You are so wasted," Mindy said.
"Shut up," Rachel said. "I've had a rough few months."
"Well, yeah….'cause you were preggers," Sharon said, grinning.
"I was not pregnant."
"You're not now...that's what abortions are for," Sharon said.
"I had peanut butter on my car from a deranged lunatic. Whatever, he's probably dead anyway."
"You are on fire tonight," Mindy said.
"You know what I realized? We're never getting out of here. We are going to live and die in Long Island. We are going to be housewives and that is it," Rachel said.
"Sounds good to me," Mindy said.
"Same here," Sharon said. Rachel glared at them and turned to find Chip. She found him sitting with Serena perched happily on his lap. She was flirting heavily with him, poking his nose and kissing him. Rachel raised an eyebrow and tried to keep her composure.
"Hey, get the hell off my boyfriend," Rachel said.
"Oh, sorry," Serena said as she got up and walked away. Rachel noticed Chip still staring at Serena so she sat herself down on Chip's lap and kissed him.
"You know Chip, if one day we get married….you are going to have to stop cheating on me," Rachel said.
"Sure, I mean, I haven't cheated on you in at least three weeks," Chip said.
"You were just kissing Serena."
"Ehhh, she's the hostess."
"Oh….okay."
"But you're still my girl," Rachel said as she leaned into kiss Chip more. Their kissing got more and more intense until Rachel heard some shouting. They separated and Rachel locked eyes with Monica who was walking past them. Monica just rolled her eyes and walked out of the room towards the outside.
Rachel turned back to Chip and they continued making out. She stood up and grabbed his hand, leading him to the stairs. They walked up the stairs to a bedroom, still kissing and slowly walked into one of the bedrooms. They could have sex, they hadn't done it since October….or Rachel hadn't...she was pretty sure Chip had probably done something with someone. They fell onto the bed, as the heat intensified between them when suddenly Rachel got scared. She shook her head and pushed Chip off her.
"No, no, no, no...I can't do this Chip. I can't."
"What's going on?"
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."
"Rachel, what is going on? Are you okay?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"Can you tell me truth? You get mad at me for doing crap, you tell me nothing. Why wouldn't you tell me you were pregnant?"
"I wasn't. I really wasn't. You don't have to worry about it anyway."
"Eventually, you're going to have to let someone in."
"Go sleep with Serena more," Rachel said, deadpanned.
"Seriously?"
"Can you get Monica?"
"You'll tell Monicow stuff but not me?"
"Get Monica, please."
"Fine, whatever," Chip said as he got up and walked out of the room. Rachel lay back on the bed and grabbed a pillow, holding it tightly, as she began to cry. Everything felt fuzzy. Soon she felt someone touching her leg and turned to see Monica looking at her. Rachel sat up.
"I'm a really, really bad person."
"No, you're not Rach."
"I am. I did something really, really bad...I am like a coyote. Like the coyote in the cartoon."
"What?"
That Chandler guy, he was right. She was like Wylie Coyote, constantly running off cliffs.
"Nothing. I just...I did something bad."
"Rachel," Monica said.
"I wish I could've done this all different. I wish that...I'm sorry."
Monica smiled as she touched Rachel's hair and gently hugged her.
"It's okay," Monica said.
"Mon, can you promise me something?"
"Anything, what?"
"Never stop being my friend. You're the only one that I have."
"That's not true...you got Nancy and Mindy and-"
"They suck. Promise?"
"I promise. Rachel, I will always be your friend. Always," Monica said as the two girls continued hugging. She hoped she would never lose Monica as her friend. That would kill her, hurt her. The one constant was that Monica would always be there and the other….well, that she would never leave Long Island.
