Fight Test

Chandler slowly poked his head through the door and clandestinely looked around the lobby of the coffee shop. He tried to imagine he was undetectable to the naked eye as he scanned every corner and every inch for any sign that his two most recent tormenters were already there, nestled in his seat, drinking their coffee and waiting for their next victim to belligerently belittle. These two men, who looked like second rate characters from a terrible made for TV gangster movie, seemed to operate on some kind of hooligan magic, always appearing from thin air whenever Chandler had his guard down. Surprising him with a taunt and a threat. A threat he was certain they were itching to follow through with.

His eyes darted around once more and he let out a sigh of relief. Satisfied they were not there, he looked to the couch. It was empty, eliciting an impish smile to curl his lips. Sitting there, even with the two roughnecks nowhere to be found, would feel like an act of defiance. A thumb in their eye even if he would never dare be that bold while they were in the building. But with them nowhere to be seen, his chest swelled with confident pride. He nodded to himself and wondered if he was finally going to catch a break. If at least for today. he would survive getting a cup of coffee without being accosted by the scourges of Central Perk.

He had been dodging this place all week. Making coffee at home, buying a cup from the diner, sometimes resorting to the tar like substance they called coffee at his office, and even forgoing his preferred caffeine infused drink altogether. It was worth feeling sluggish and cranky in the morning if it meant avoiding another confrontation. He and Ross found they were ill-equipped to deal with those goons, as they seemed stuck in a high school mentality where bulling strangers at their age was still acceptable. They acted like the gatekeepers of the coffee house. And there seemed to be no talking them out of their particular brand of hospitality, which appeared to include free knuckle sandwiches. While Chandler would like to believe he and Ross have declined to engage them physically because they were too mature to stoop to their level, he knew it was because neither he, nor Ross, were very good at fighting.

The last fight Chandler had gotten into was with a twisted-up comforter on his bed that he kicked and stretched as he tried to straighten it out so it would cover his feet. Struggling to bend it to his will without getting up. The only result of that brief conflict was him lying on his bed, out of breath, with a charley horse, while the blanket stayed tangled and out of reach. A new low in his life. Beaten senseless by a piece of bedding.

A week into this new experience of ducking trouble at the coffee house had Chandler almost regret getting rid of Eddie. That psychopath of a roommate would have been like a rabid attack dog, chasing those two jerks right out of the building the first time they showed up. Although, with Chandler's luck, Eddie would have joined their side and invented yet another grievance against him. One he no doubt would have meted out with violence.

Either way, friend or foe, Eddie wasn't here. So Chandler brought the next best thing.

"Are we going inside anytime soon or did you bring me down here just to show me the vestibule?"

Chandler looked over his shoulder and flashed an embarrassed smile at Richard. He sheepishly nodded and then stepped inside, with Richard close behind him.

"Yeah, of course. I was just making sure…they had the good coffee brewed and yes, they do. Right there."

"Ahh." Richard stepped past Chandler and walked inside. Chandler gingerly walked behind him, as if he were Richard's stalker, or some cat burglar trying not to set off an alarm.

"Well, thanks for keeping me company until Monica comes home."

"Oh yeah, sure. I mean, you're doing me a favor really."

"Oh? What is that?"

Chandler sucked on his lower lip, unsure what to say next that didn't involve the words "body" and "guard".

"I had been wanting to talk to you. Man-to-man. Mano-a-mano. Guy to…uh…other guy."

Richard tilted his head. Although he had been around Chandler long enough to become accustomed to his odd behavior, his stammering and awkward jokes could still be off-putting at times, especially when he seemed incapable of putting together a coherent sentence.

"Okay, well, I'll buy. Why don't you get us a seat?"

Chandler nodded and slowly walked around the couch and sat on the end. It had been a serendipitous stroke of luck that he stumbled upon Richard when he got home from work. He was leaning against the wall in the hallway, locked out of Monica and Rachel's apartment. Both of them nodded as a greeting to each other. Richard no doubt expected Monica to be home any minute, and Chandler was looking forward to collapsing on his chair and unwind from a long day with a little TV. That was, until Chandler walked into his own apartment and checked his answering machine.

"Chandler! I'm going to be late."

"Oh, hey, Richard. Monica's on the machine."

Richard stepped closer to listen in from the hall.

"Don't tell Richard, but I'm down to my last few bucks and I'm desperate and I am going to an interview at this 50's themed diner."

Chandler grimaced and then looked back at Richard.

Richard smirked and raised his hands in deference. "I didn't hear a thing."

"It looks horrible. They're all dressed up and dancing on the counter. All the women have these giant fake boobs."

Richard's eyes went wide and he stepped closer. "Well, I heard that."

Chandler nodded. "Me too."

"Can you imagine me with these giant honkers?"

Almost in unison, both Richard and Chandler answered "yes".

"Anyway, I think I might be an hour or so late. Can you let Richard know and maybe let him wait at your place?"

Chandler and Richard looked at each other as the machine beeped. Chandler let his eyes scan around the apartment, recalling the last time Richard was there, and how awfully that ended. And then suddenly, he had a brilliant idea.

What better deterrent for a bully than a six-foot-four, barrel-chested, dripping with machismo, fully mustached man who could also be mistaken for his dad?

"Hey, want to go grab a cup of coffee?"

Richard placed a mug in front of Chandler as he sat down on the other side. Both men ensuring there was enough room between them on the couch. Chandler gave one more nervous glance over his shoulder and then began to prepare his coffee.

Richard eyed Chandler, who seemed a ball of nerves. "Everything all right?"

Chandler, realizing how squirrely he must look, puffed out his chest and leaned back. He crossed his leg over his lap in an exaggerated way as he adopted a cocky smile, but all he ended up doing was overcompensate for his odd behavior and he appeared unnaturally nonchalant to Richard.

"What? Of course! I'm fine. I was going to ask you how you were doing." Richard gave Chandler another suspicious glance, but then chuckled it off and leaned back.

"I'm fine."

"How's the practice? You know, my dad is also a doctor."

"Really?"

"No. But he did send me a picture of him dressed like Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman."

"Ah." Richard nodded slowly with a knowing look in his eyes.

"Things with Monica are good, right?"

Richard hesitated for a moment but then reassured Chandler with a nod. "Yeah. Things are great."

Richard suddenly realized he had no one to talk to about his relationship with Monica. His best friend was also her father, so he was out of the question, and most of his other friends that were all his age found more pleasure in imaging the salacious details of dating someone in their twenties rather than have a serious conversation about relationships. He was simply alone in navigating her. And he wondered, if perhaps, Chandler would be a decent sounding board.

He was circumspect as he studied Chandler carefully. He knew he had to be cautious about how much he shared with him, but he also thought that this may be an opportunity he could not pass up. While Chandler may not be the perfect person to seek counsel from, he might be the best Richard would ever have available.

He cleared his throat and sighed. "This past week has been a little odd."

"Yeah?" The hair on the back of Chandler's neck stood up. Like a sixth sense warning him that someone was about to ask for his advice.

"Yeah, I feel like, maybe she's avoiding me."

And just like that, a giant stone of discomfort landed in the pit of Chandler's stomach. Now he was torn with alienating his only protection against the bullies, or adventuring out into unchartered waters of actually talking about something more important than Baywatch.

Usually, when someone asked Chandler for advice, or spoke to him about anything personal, his brain would shut down. Incapable of processing such complex emotions. He could rely on nodding and saying things like "oh" and "hmm" every time the other person took pause, but he had a sinking feeling that was not going to work this time.

"No. She's crazy about you."

Richard nodded. "I know, I just feel like I we have been having trouble connecting this week. She's either not home, or has to call me back because she is constantly on the phone. Today is the first day we had plans all week and she isn't even around. Is something going on?"

"Hmm." Chandler had no idea what Richard knew about Monica's week so far. The stock market obsession, the desperate job search, the dwindling savings account. All very sensitive and possibly secret topics. His eyes bulged as he tried to will Richard mollified from his unintelligible grunt. But he could tell by the look on his face, that it did not.

"That doesn't really clear things up."

Chandler took a deep breath. "I think it's just, well, she isn't where she thought she'd be right now as far as her career goes. Out of work. Struggling to find a good job. She's probably just distracted by that."

Richard nodded, as if a light bulb went off in his head. "And I'm already there."

"Huh?"

"You said she isn't where she thought she would be. I haven't had to deal with anything like that in a long time. My career is set. She's still working on hers. It probably makes sense that she feels a little intimidated to talk to me about it."

Chandler tilted his head. "I don't know if she gets intimidated."

Richard nodded in agreement. "Do you think she's embarrassed?"

"She is thinking about taking a job where she has to wear fake boobs, so, perhaps she's maxed out on embarrassment."

Richard smiled and patted Chandler on the arm. "Thanks. You were a big help."

"Really? Wow. That's never happened before. So this is what giving advice feels like?"

Richard twisted up his eyebrows dubiously. "I don't know if you actually gave any advice."

Chandler looked off to the side and nodded. "Wow. I could be like Oprah."

"Sure." Richard decided it wasn't worth fighting and nodded along.

Chandler collected himself from his momentary delusion of grandeur and returned his gaze to Richard. "Yeah, once she gets her career back on track, it'll all get back to normal."

"How about you? Any women trouble?"

Chandler nodded sarcastically. "Yeah. I can't find any."

Richard chuckled and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You'll get there."

"So, you and Monica…you think you'll go the distance?"

"What?"

"You know, marriage, kids, all that stuff."

Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh, I don't…we haven't talked about that…"

Chandler leaned back with a stunned expression on his face. "Really? Monica hasn't talked about that?"

"Why? Has she said anything…"

"No, no. Not to me. I just, you know, you see her with Ben, and she has always wanted to be…" Chandler trailed off as he suddenly felt like he was saying something out of turn. His brain was screaming at him to stop talking, knowing anything else that came out of his mouth would only get him in trouble. ",,,you know what, I don't know what I'm talking about. I mean, you shouldn't be listening to me, I only asked you to come down here in case I needed you to fight somebody for me."

"What?" Richard leaned forward, slightly alarmed.

Chandler shrunk a bit into his shoulders. "Did I say fight? See. I say dumb things like that all the time. Words just come flying out."

One of Richard's eyebrows arched up skeptically but then he shook his head. He decided dismissing Chandler's odd behavior was the best course of action. "Maybe we should head back upstairs."

"So who are you supposed to be exactly."

"They didn't really tell me."

Chandler eyed Monica up and down as he studied her outfit. He stopped once he reached her enormous, fake breasts and stared at her, slack jawed. Monica looked down at him incredulously and then slapped him on the head with her notepad.

"Stop that!"

Chandler gestured at her chest. "I'm sorry, but, you know…they're right there!"

"Are you ordering something, or are you just here to annoy me."

Chandler picked up and eyed the menu. He scanned it quickly as he could feel her becoming impatient. "I'll have a cheeseburger."

Monica scribbled his order down in her pad. "Where's everyone else."

"I don't know."

"Are they coming down here too to ridicule me?"

"I'm not ridiculing you. I'm moral support."

Monica laughed dismissively and shook her head.

"Seriously. I know you don't like this." He looked down at the menu again and smiled. "Ooo, how are the Laverne and Curly Fries?"

Monica rolled her eyes and then scribbled down in her pad once more, pressing hard as if she were getting out all her frustration in the quick, angry strokes of her pen.

Chandler looked up at her sheepishly. "Are you going to spit in my food?"

Monica screwed up her face mockingly at Chandler and then walked back behind the counter to hand in his order. She looked around, noticing no one else needed help, and then walked back over to Chandler, leaning on the counter in front of him.

Chandler looked around, trying to distract himself from eyeing her fake chest. "So, uh, have you told Richard about all of this yet?"

"Yeah. We talked last night."

Chandler waggled his eyebrows. "Has he come down and seen you in action?"

"No. I kind of asked him not to come yet. I told him I needed to concentrate on getting the hang of things around here first. I'm not really ready for him to see me like this. It's embarrassing."

"Really? But we've all seen you like this."

"Yeah, but that's different. I don't get embarrassed around you guys."

"But you get embarrassed around Richard?"

Monica shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't think you have to worry about Richard. I mean, you guys are in this for the long haul, right?"

Monica's eyes opened wide. "What?"

Chandler then darted his eyes side to side. "I don't know why I said that."

Monica shook her head and smirked. "I hope we are. I don't know. We haven't talked about that stuff yet."

Chandler looked at Monica with a heavy dose of skepticism in his eyes. "Really? You haven't thought about that stuff yet?"

"Shut up and eat your curly fries!"

Chandler chuckled as she slid a plate of food in front of him before walking away to refill someone else's coffee. He found it so odd that Monica and Richard hadn't talked about the future, or that they both seemed defensive when he brought it up. These were two people who he assumed had everything planned out already. They weren't like everyone else. They were grown-ups when it came to relationships. They didn't seem to tiptoe around each other or play games. From the first time Chandler met Richard, he knew this was different than all the other guys Monica had gone out with, and over the last couple of years, he could see that she was ready to take the next step. She was ready to find the one, and Richard seemed to fit the bill.

As he took a bite from his burger, Chandler wasn't sure what this hesitation by the both of them meant for him. It could be that if these two couldn't figure out how to talk about their future, what chance did he have? Could he ever find someone to push him through the tunnel?

Or, perhaps, it might mean that he wasn't such a lost cause after all. If Richard and Monica, the perfect couple, had trouble taking the next step in their relationship, then his own trepidation when it came to commitment might not be that damning. Maybe one day, he would finally find the will to fight for something.

Or someone.