The Freshman

Chandler stepped out of his bedroom and scratched at the back of his head; hopeful that the developing hangover would fade quickly after his first cup of coffee. He looked around the apartment and groaned as he surveyed the mess left over from last night's party. Plastic cups, plates, crumpled up napkins, wrapping paper, open bags of chips, pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, soda cans and party favors were littered across the floor. Even the furniture was not safe from the hurricane that hit his place last night as he found the chairs near the counter turned over, the couch and recliners covered with discarded clothes he did not recognize, and the foosball table covered with crumbs and dirty paper towels. Chandler mused that the broken pieces from the Wreck of the Hesperus that had washed up on the shore could not have looked as bad as this apartment did.

He turned to face the bathroom, but then shuddered at the thought of seeing what kind of state it was in and wondered if he could handle it before, at the very least, a little hit of caffeine first. He walked into the kitchen, finding the oven door open and the toaster in the sink. He shrugged his shoulders in numb defeat, unable to muster up any reaction to the mess. He stepped over to the coffee machine and brushed some trash from the counter onto the floor as he scooped grounds from a coffee can into a clean filter. He yawned as he filled the machine with water and tried to replay the events of the party backwards in his mind, but most of the night was still a blur.

He remembered having to split the guests up between his apartment and Monica's due to Rachel's parents both popping in to see their daughter on her birthday, and he smirked when he thought about Joey's brilliant idea to fill their place with women and Monica's with men. He was always shocked at how the same man who could not figure out how to use an answering machine could be so clever when it came to hooking up with girls. He was a casual sex savant.

Chandler's mood quickly soured and he groused a bit as he thought about the empty bed that he woke up to this morning. A typical occurrence for him after a party as it seemed no matter how many women Joey was able to sweep up in his wake, Chandler could never be the remora fish to his roommate's shark and benefit. Unable to form a symbiotic relationship and live off his leftovers and castoffs. Like with food, when it came to women, Joey swallowed everything up.

And as that familiar feeling of rejection washed over him, once the night gave way to the early hours of the morning, Chandler found that there would be no random, hot, sweaty night of sex for him. No woman receptive to his particular way of flirting. No, instead of a boastful night of conquest, he got to talk about divorce with Rachel and stupidly admit that he used to wet the bed.

It appeared that no matter how hard he tried, Chandler could not be like Joey when it came to the opposite sex. He could not replicate the kind of charm that only required a handful of words and a smoldering stare which would leave women speechless and horny. Instead, he usually told one too many jokes that tipped him over the edge from possible sexual partner to random awkward guy at the party.

"I hate that."

Chandler shook his head, but then looked up when the door to Joey's bedroom opened. A slender, blonde shuffled from Joey's room wearing a man's bathrobe and an embarrassed expression on her face. She sheepishly waved at Chandler on her way to the bathroom.

"Hi!"

"Morning."

Chandler eyed Joey's latest sexual partner. She was beautiful. They were always beautiful. But they also had the same look on their faces every morning when they emerged from Joey's den of iniquity. The one that made Chandler feel like he was the last thing they wanted to see the morning after. Most of them wanted to wash up, change, and get out of there as quickly as possible without coming face-to-face with a knowing roommate. As much as Joey got dinged for sleeping with women and never calling them back, he also had this innate ability to find the woman at the bar, or in this case party, that did not want a call back. Women who, like him, were also just looking for a one-night thing. Although he did take his share of women to bed that he promised too much to, or told one lie too many to, making them think they found their Prince Charming, only to realize they had just slept with a man who had no intention of seeing them ever again.

Chandler could always tell the difference with what kind of woman he slept with by how they greeted him in the morning. If they were interested in Joey, they would strike up a conversation, in hopes to butter Chandler up so he would reveal intimate details about his roommate to them. Usually they wanted to find out if he was looking for something serious, or if he was seeing anyone else. Anything they could use to help them make him their own. On the other hand, if they just wanted to get out of the apartment as fast as they could, they gave a wave or a quick "hi", hit the bathroom to wash up, got dressed, and were out the door before Joey even woke up.

As he waited for his coffee, Chandler honesty couldn't come up with which type of woman he would prefer. The girl who stayed around looking for more or the one who left happy and satisfied with one night of great sex. He shook his head and laughed at himself. Thinking about that felt like a waste of time to him. He would never be faced with that kind of dilemma, because while he wished he possessed some of that magic Joey had over women, the kind that would make him have to install a revolving door on his bedroom, he simply did not. And he would never have to worry about what a woman wanted from him after a drunken night of spontaneous sex.

Before he could spiral anymore down into the depths of self-pity, the door to the apartment opened and Monica walked in, breaking up his cumulonimbus cloud of sulking before it had time to turn into a storm.

Monica's eyes went wide in horror as she immediately took in the shape of his apartment.

"Oh my god! This place is a mess!"

She smirked and suddenly felt a swell of smug pride as she internally compared his place to her own, which was already so sparkling clean that it would be impossible to imagine a party occurred there the night before.

"This is what you guys get for trying to have a fun party."

Chandler, growing impatient with the coffee machine, rolled his eyes. "Yes. Everyone knows parties are not supposed to be fun."

Monica ignored his barb and pointed incredulously at something in the livingroom. "It that a plate of spaghetti on the floor?"

Chandler craned his neck to see and then a look of recognition washed over his face. "Oh yeah. That guy from the copy shop made spaghetti."

Monica shuddered at the thought of the overturned plate and looked away from it, as if to block it from her sight. She then leaned against the counter, but quickly sprang loose as she realized she did not want to touch any surface in the disgusting hole that used to be a decent apartment.

"Have you seen Rachel?"

"Last I saw she was with Ross. She probably slept over there."

"Typical!"

"What? Did she skip out on cleaning this morning? Is your place a mess too?"

Monica chuckled with smug confidence. "Yeah, right! My place. A mess."

She then started to absentmindedly clean off the foosball table. Deftly removing every napkin, paper towel, plate, and piece of food she could find and depositing them into a trash bag that was in the middle of the kitchen.

"Her dad called."

Chandler gave her a knowing nod. "Ahh."

"What?" Monica now moved to the counter, unable to control her need to expunge the mess and tossed everything she could into the large black garbage bag.

Chandler pulled two mugs from the cabinet and rinsed them out. "The delicate ballet of the soon to be divorced parents begins! Each one now trying to reach out to the child, ingratiate themselves into their lives, and come across as the good guy."

The coffee machine finally finished brewing with a beep and Chandler let loose a relieved sigh.

"What are you talking about?" Monica stepped into the livingroom and began to pick up whatever she deemed trash and threw it away.

"You don't know this stuff because your parents are married and still love each other like a couple of freaks, but right at the beginning of a divorce, once the parents announce it to their kids, both of them try to one up each other on who calls the most. See, they figure, whichever one comes around more often will be the one you pick."

"Pick for what?" Monica cinched the garbage bag tight and put her hand out for another one.

Chandler handed her a new bag that he pulled from under the sink and then poured two cups of coffee. "Winner of the divorce."

"Winner of the divorce? Who wins at divorce?"

Chandler put a splash of milk and some sugar into each mug before handing one to Monica. He held his own close to his face and took in its aroma, feeling as if it were already reinvigorating his body. "Whichever one you see more on holidays."

Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, I think I'll win at marriage instead thank you very much."

"That's what everyone thinks, but the divorce rate isn't one-hundred-and-fifty percent for nothing."

Monica tried to suppress a smile at his joke. "I don't think that's accurate." She then started to bring plates, glasses and silverware into the kitchen to wash. When she reached the sink, she stared blankly at the toaster that was still sitting in it, and then scowled at Chandler before taking it out and placing it back on the counter.

"Take it from me Mon, happily ever after does not work in real life. Real life is trial separations, mediation, child custody agreements, and passive-aggressive holiday cards."

Monica placed her hand on her hip and chided Chandler with her eyes. "Oh boo-hoo divorced boy. You wouldn't think that way if you'd just open your eyes and look at everyone around you. You're surrounded by all kinds of healthy, long-lasting, loving relationships. Me and Richard. Ross and Rachel. My mom and my dad…" Monica trailed off as Joey's bedmate exited the bathroom and gingerly walked across the livingroom. "Who knows, maybe even Joey and that girl in the bathrobe."

The woman stopped and gestured apologetically. "Oh, no. I mean, he was nice and all, but this isn't a thing."

"But it could be. What if you two hit it off? What if you find that you can't live without each other and you end up falling in love and getting married?"

"Well, my husband would be pretty upset if that happened."

Chandler took a sip from his coffee and eyed Monica smugly as Joey's paramour slipped back into his bedroom.

Monica narrowed her eyes and seethed. "It doesn't matter. I'm right."

"You can't just say you're right. You actually have to be right."

"Whatever." Monica waved him off and started to wash the dishes. "Rachel is supposed to be at work by eleven. Want to go down for a bite to eat?"

Chandler nodded and smiled. "Sure."

"Good. Now will you please go and clean up that spaghetti?"

Chandler stepped out of Central Perk and chuckled to himself as he thought about Monica, the banana nut muffin and Ryan, Phoebe's sailor boyfriend. He almost did not want to leave the coffee house, but everyone was about to go their separate ways for the day, and he did not want to be the last one left sitting on the couch alone, feeling the eyes of every customer burrow through the back of his head as he hogged the best seat in the place all to himself.

Funny enough, alone is how he had been feeling these last few days. It seemed everyone else had someone. Monica and Richard. Ross and Rachel. Phoebe and Ryan. Even Joey was going on a date with a girl from the party, another in a long list of phone numbers he had gotten that night. But Chandler had no one.

Usually, this kind of revelation would have left him feeling sorry for himself. He would have wallowed in self-pity alone in the apartment with the television on. Decried romance, love and relationships. Languish in his solitude. But today, it felt different. Things seemed brighter. There was a bounce in his step. As if he were about to skip or dance and sing down the street like a modern-day Gene Kelly.

The laughs back at the coffee house came easy and were sincere. Everyone radiated this warmth, that he could feel deep in his soul. He was bathed in smiles and sunlight and it felt good to be around that even if he himself was not experiencing the same thing as all of his friends were.

And that's when it hit him.

For the first time in a while, everybody was happy.

It was not this delirious form of joy, that hits you like the first drag of a cigarette, powerful and blinding, but also fleeting and empty and leaving you craving for the next fix. It was also not sickening to witness, like being around a pair of mollified lovers who had no idea how off-putting their public displays of affection were to everyone around them. Instead, it was this deep and simple form of happiness. As if it were a universal truth. The sky was blue. Water was wet. Everyone was happy.

He thought of what Monica had said the other day, how he was surrounded by love in its many forms, and how it was thriving and he wondered if perhaps she had tricked him into this baseline of euphoria. Afterall, he certainly was not in love, he had no one to go home to, he wasn't meeting some attractive woman for dinner and drinks. Yet, he was still overcome by this sense of optimism.

He wondered what it was about his friends all being in strong, happy, healthy relationships that gave him this freedom to feel so light on his feet. And suddenly, he realized what he was feeling was not some residual enchantment along with them that they sprinkled over him like so much pixie dust. This wasn't about him being happy for himself or for his friends.

This was about how seeing them like this gave him hope.

Before he could explore that premise further, his mind snagged on a recent memory, as if just the thought of feeling hopeful had pressed play on a flashback in his mind.

Monica sat back on the couch as she cradled Ben. He grabbed at the bottle and she let him hold it with her as he drank down the breastmilk that Ross had left for her in the refrigerator; which she prepared while Chandler distracted Ben from having a complete hunger meltdown by playing with him and making strange faces. She made sure Ben had a good grip, and that he was drinking contently before she looked at Chandler, who was picking up some of Ben's toys from the floor.

"You're really good with him."

Chandler held up a soft ball that crinkled like paper when he squeezed it. "I think Joey has this one."

Monica laughed. "I'm serious. You're a natural."

"Well, you've always said I act like a two-year-old."

Monica laughed despite herself and then admonished his cavalier remark with her eyes. "Chandler."

Chandler chuckled and sat down next to her, stretching his arm out behind her. "I guess it isn't that scary when you know it's someone else's baby. You're less likely to cause any permanent damage."

"Will you stop."

Chandler nodded in deference to her and let a contented smile fall upon his face. "It's more fun that I thought it would be."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, look at him, he's so new and his eyes look full of wonder. It's like being at a party and you bring someone along with you who doesn't know anybody there. Now you have to introduce him to everyone. And to you, these are just the people you work with or something like that, but for him, it's like he's meeting Elvis or space aliens. Everything is special to him. All the time. And you get to be the one to show him all of that." Chandler suddenly felt embarrassed as he caught himself blathering earnestly and couldn't help but puncture the atmosphere with a joke. "Of course, that is until he becomes a teenager and hates everything."

Monica laughed and looked down at her nephew. "Not you though Ben! You're going to be a baby forever."

"You're good with him too."

"Oh, I know."

Chandler chuckled at her matter-of-fact conviction.

Monica eyed him and flashed an impish smile. "I can see you with one of these someday."

Chandler glared at her with a pair of aggrieved eyes. "What? Why would you say something that mean!"

Monica turned her attention to Ben. "Maybe Uncle Chandler is thinking about having a baby himself."

"Well, if I did, I'd be the first man to do that." Chandler then mimed as if he had a giant, round belly.

Monica playfully elbowed him and then glanced up at his face and noticed a contemplative look on his face. "Oh my god you are thinking about having a baby! This is huge!"

Chandler raised his hands defensively. "No-no! I was just thinking, well, when Ross told us about Carol being pregnant, and him becoming a dad, all I could think about was how lucky I was not to have to deal with that. I mean, are any of us ready to deal with having a baby?"

Monica cleared her throat in an exaggerated manner.

"I mean anyone other than you?"

Monica smiled, satisfied that he recovered from his faux pas quickly enough and recognized her capabilities, even if she had to give him a nudge in the right direction.

"Anyway, playing with Ben, and seeing him discover new things all the time, and making him laugh, it just…you know…maybe Ross is the lucky one."

Chandler stopped walking and looked up at the storefront signage in front of him, finding himself at the bank. Mindlessly running an errand he had not even planned or knew he was on. But once he arrived, he knew exactly what he was doing here.

He did not want a kid. Not now anyway. He certainly was not ready to commit himself to a relationship. Not in the way he would need in order to even entertain thinking about the future. Yet here he was. Thinking about relationships, marriage, kids, divorce. It was all so scary, but also exciting.

He was surrounded by love. And it all seemed so effortless. And sure, he was not in the headspace to actually do the work to achieve what his friends had found for themselves this year, but he started to think that at the very least, he deserved a shot at that kind of happiness.

And, if the conversation he had with the girls earlier this year after Heckles had died meant anything, then maybe he was not the only one who thought that.

Chandler walked over to Monica and tugged at his tie. "Can I ask you something?"

Monica looked up from the dish she was washing and smiled. "Sure."

"Do you really think I'll end up okay?"

Monica turned the water off and held back from laughing. She could sense Chandler was still feeling vulnerable, even after they had assured him he wasn't some kind of freak of nature. That he wasn't going to die alone as some crazy snake man.

"Yes. Chandler, you have to realize, that in your own way, you're a good catch."

Chandler seemed surprised. "Really?"

"Well, maybe not now, but you know, with a lot of therapy…"

Chandler lifted his eyebrows, unamused at being the butt of her joke. "Ha ha."

Monica shook her head and smiled sweetly, trying to reassure him she was only attempting to ease his tension with some levity. "Yes. You're funny. Smart. Loyal. Kind. Not bad to look at."

Chandler smiled back and then looked around the room, almost afraid he would be overheard. "I guess sometimes I just wonder, why do I have such a hard time with this?"

"Maybe, something deep down inside you is telling you that you just haven't found the right girl yet?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Believe me, I know what that looks like. I have been the wrong girl for too many guys."

Chandler looked off and nodded. "Yeah."

Monica suddenly felt a charge of indignation at him for agreeing with her so quickly. "What?"

Chandler raised his hands defensively. "No-no! That's not what I meant. Not you, you're great. Those guys were jerks. I meant me. Maybe you're right about me."

Monica eyed him suspiciously, but then nodded, letting him off the hook. "I just think that once you meet the right person, all that stuff comes easy. You know? You end up wanting to take those next steps, and they aren't as scary anymore. Both of you walking the same path and moving forward together."

Chandler lifted his eyebrows sarcastically. "Okay Donohue."

Monica flattened her lips in an attempt to deprive Chandler from a reaction to his joke. "You should seriously consider the therapy."

Joey hummed as he began to empty the refrigerator. Lunchmeat, bread, mayonnaise, mustard, pickles. Each new item he took out only increased his anticipation as he started to envision exactly how he would construct his sandwich. He placed everything on the counter and opened the jar of mustard. He placed the lid down and then winced as he noticed he left a stain and a large yellow glob on a piece of paper that looked very important. He quickly lifted the lid and licked the page, hoping to remove any evidence of the offending yellow condiment.

"What are you doing?"

Joey looked up at Chandler and shrunk down, embarrassed at being discovered. "I dropped some mustard."

"And you didn't want to waste it?"

"No. I thought I could clean it off."

Chandler took the form and held it out, as if just touching it was contaminating him with Joey's saliva. "They make these things called napkins Joe."

"What is that anyway?"

"I opened a new bank account."

"You're changing banks? Because if you are, you should tell me."

"Why?"

"We're supposed to be bank buddies!"

Chandler blinked his eyes, as if Joey's words made him dizzy. "I'm not changing banks. I'm just opening another account."

Joey stared at him incredulously. "You have two bank accounts?"

"Actually, now I have three."

Joey's voice suddenly became high-pitched as he found what Chandler was saying completely implausible. "Three? This is why I don't even have one! You're hogging all the bank!"

Chandler rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about. You have a bank account."

"Yeah, but I only have that because you lend me fifty bucks every month."

"What?"

Joey, feeling as if he just exposed some secret scheme, looked down and started shuffling the bags of lunchmeats around. "Never mind. Why do you have three bank accounts?"

Chandler shook his head, deciding it was better to forget Joey's indiscretion than continue asking about it. "Well I have a checking account and a savings account already. But I wanted another account where I could keep money long term. Higher interest rate."

Joey, now totally engrossed in his sandwich construction, seemed to be on autopilot as he spoke. "What do you need that for?"

Chandler looked down and smiled to himself, almost overcome with a sense of assured hopefulness. He was saving money for something he had never really given much thought to before. Something that he wanted to finally embrace and stop being so afraid of. Something he felt he deserved.

"The future."