A Love Untold

"Hellooooo!"

Chandler opened the door and walked into apartment twenty. He looked around to see if anyone was there, but found it empty. Still, he figured someone had to be home, since it would have been very uncharacteristic for the girls to leave the apartment with the door unlocked and most of the lights on. He stepped over to the edge of the kitchen and craned his neck towards the bedrooms on the other side of the room.

"I said, 'helloooo'."

He waited another moment, almost frozen between the kitchen and livingroom as he strained to hear even the faintest of responses to his entrance.

Finally, hearing nothing, he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the kitchen. "Okay. Fine. But if one of you walks out here naked, you only have yourself to blame."

Chandler stepped over to the refrigerator, opened it, and began to poke around, looking for something to eat. He was not normally prone to raiding the girl's fridge. Especially since he had a few snacks in the cupboard and a drawer full of take-out menus to choose from back at his apartment if he really wanted to eat. Truth be told, he was not all that hungry anyway. He was just bored.

Normally, sitting in front of the television waiting for a delivery of Chinese food was his favorite way to spend a Saturday night. Although, that was not entirely true. His favorite way to spend a Saturday night would be to go on a date and then bring the girl home and have sex. But seeing as how that was a very infrequent occurrence for him, eating in front of the TV would have to suffice.

Only, for some reason, tonight he felt restless as he flipped through the channels looking for something to watch. Nothing on TV caught his eye. Even reliable favorites such as Wildest Police Videos or the story of some unsolved murder on Dateline failed to keep his attention.

So, with Joey out on a date, and Ross taking care of Ben, Chandler had no other recourse for a small distraction than to walk across the hall and bother the girls. Only, it appeared, the girls were not there to be bothered.

But he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"Well, if no one is here, then I am just going to help myself to…." He pushed a milk carton aside and then pulled out a Styrofoam clamshell container from the shelf and opened it. "…and old salad…." He lifted a tomato, which went limp in his hand. "…and this soggy tomato…"

He frowned and dropped the unappealing vegetable back into the container as he slid the salad back into the fridge. He snatched a bottle of water and twisted off the cap. He took a sip and, upon hearing one of the bedroom doors behind him swing open, he spun around like a thief caught in the midst of a heist.

"What? I wasn't going through your…." Chandler's voice trailed off as he felt his jaw go slack. He was suddenly unable to control his tongue, and it flopped around in his mouth. Now simply a useless mass that he had forgotten how to use. A small trickle of water escaped the corner of his lips, as he could no longer even find the wherewithal to swallow. The water bottle slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground, dribbling its cold liquid on the floor. His eyes glazed over as he found himself unable to turn away from the flawless, graceful beauty that walked out of Monica's bedroom.

Monica lifted her eyebrows, confused and then agitated by his reaction as she spied the water bottle spilling out its contents on her floor. All she could do was point at the puddle forming and shout a scolding. "Chandler!" as she stood in her doorway.

While Monica ensured her voice was at its most shrill to convey the horror she felt watching water leak all over her floor, Chandler could barely hear her. He was completely transfixed. Spellbound by the way her dress clung to her body. There were flashes of silver and gold, and perhaps even a shiny hint of turquoise whenever she moved, as the light in the room seemed to dance around her with purpose. The incandescent bulbs hitting her at the perfect angles; reflecting colors in a way that made her appear to sparkle. It glittered and dazzled his eyes as it bounced off the gemstones in her necklace. It was all too hypnotic, and it reduced him to a near quivering pile of flesh that once could have called itself a man.

Her dress flaunted her lithe, fit form in all its glory as the fabric acted like a second skin, hugging her body as if she were born to wear it. Her hair, done up, gave her the most elegant of necklines. Like a graceful swan, still in its movements, but beautiful to behold. Her earrings dazzled like royal jewels that only paled in comparison to her flawless complexion. The color in her cheeks, the red of her lipstick, the perfect shade of eyeshadow, it all helped to accentuate the blue in her eyes. Eyes that twinkled like stars.

Her slender shoulders shined like alabaster against the night sky that bled its way into the apartment from the window near the balcony. A dancing trail of freckles flowed about her collarbone, only obscured by two tiny straps, that his eyes followed down her to her chest, where her near perfect breasts seemed to be calling to him, demanding he pay tribute for witnessing such a vision of loveliness.

"Chandler! You're making a mess!"

Chandler could barely register Monica's words, or that it was even her standing there. The way she looked, she ceased to be Monica, the girl who lived across the hall from him. She was no longer even a real person. She was this lovely thing that his most base of instinct demanded he soak in. Every inch. Until her image was branded across his brain.

He tilted his head as his eyes went wide and Monica stared back at him and then back down at herself, wondering if he saw some flaw in her outfit or hair that was causing him to act so strange.

"What are you looking at?"

Something inside him forced him to speak. A subconscious impulse compelling him to return to earth from whatever starry sky he flew off into.

"I'm just…that dress."

Monica fidgeted and tugged at the fabric that clung to her waist as she placed the matching wrap down on the couch. "Yeah? You don't think it is too much."

Chandler's eyes worked all on their own as they traveled up and down her body. He was used to coming over to this apartment and sharing meals. Watching movies. Playing board games. Poker. Pictionary. Complaining about work and bad dates. Venting about their parents. Spending so much time with the two women who lived here that he sometimes would forget, that they were hot. And right now, in that dress, it has been brought to his attention, that his friend Monica, was a very beautiful woman.

"No…you look so sex…uh…you look great. You look really great."

Chandler bent down, and without taking his eyes off her, he picked the water bottle up off the floor. He straightened up and ran the back of his hand across his chin to dry up some wetness he felt on his face. He was not sure if it was water from his swig out of the bottle or if he started to drool.

Monica lifted her eyebrows. Wondering what exactly was happening to him. "Okay, well, now you're staring."

"Yeah, I know, I mean…" Chandler gestured at her with his hand. He ran it up and down slowly, as if to try and describe her from head to toe. "it's all so wow."

Monica relented with a bashful smile and shook her head. Unsure if what he said was a compliment or just a string of disconnected words. "Thanks. I guess?"

Chandler started to walk backwards into the kitchen. He kept his eyes glued to Monica, almost as if he expected her to disappear if he turned away. Rendering the vision before him as nothing more than a phantom conjured up by his idle mind.

He stopped walking when he crashed into the kitchen counter. He regained his balance and then slowly reached behind him to grab some paper towels from the roll above the sink. He weakly tried to tear a few sheets off, but he was too distracted to succeed. Instead, as he walked back to where he spilled the water, he unspooled the entire roll of behind him. Like a long train on some cheap wedding dress made of absorbent paper, it followed him all the way from the sink to the back of the couch.

Monica raised her hand sternly, gesturing at the winding trail behind him. "Chandler!"

"Yes breasts." He winced at his Freudian slip and stammered a bit. "I mean, Monica."

Monica, now becoming agitated, gestured angrily again at the train of paper strewn across her apartment. "Look at what you are doing."

Chandler, still keeping his eyes on her, bent down and started to wipe at a dry, clean spot the floor, missing the spilled water entirely.

"I don't want to look. I've seen paper towels before. I've never seen that dress. What, uh, where are, uh…how….why?"

Monica could not help but chuckle as him. Always finding it amusing when he would become tongue tied. "I'm going to guess that you are asking me why I am dressed like this?"

Chandler slowly nodded as he continued to wipe at the floor. Still nowhere near the mess he made when he dropped his bottle.

"I'm going to dinner with Pete. Or, they'll be dinner. I actually don't know what it is. A benefit or a dedication. Some black-tie affair. He is actually sending a car for me. It should be here any minute."

Chandler started to feel like he was returning to normal. Up until this moment, it was as if his brain had been feeling the sensation of pins and needles. A prickling in his frontal lobe that had caused a moment of temporary insanity. A tingling in his head that made everything else disappear except for the woman standing before him. But now, the world was coming back into focus. The infatuation with his friend's physical appearance faded slightly, allowing him the ability to act like a human being once again.

He finally took his eyes off of her and looked down to find the spill and began to soak it up.

He chuckled and glanced up at her. "Well, if Pete wasn't going to propose before, he will once he sees you in that dress."

Monica let a sincere smile stretch her lips. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're…you're…uh, well…you are stop being able to talk hot."

"Well, thanks." Monica laughed and felt a slight blush of heat on her cheeks at the compliment, which took her by surprise.

Years ago, when Joey first moved in, she bristled over some of the unwanted comments and propositions the guys would make to her, even if they were only in jest. But, over time, that had faded. Even the good-natured jokes stopped. Now, it had become rare for either Joey or Chandler to comment on how she or any of the other girls looked. And while she never sought that kind of attention from them, it did make her feel as if perhaps now they no longer saw her as a woman. That perhaps she had become this sexless thing. To them, she was now just a fixture in the apartment with no more sex appeal than a lamp or a houseplant or a couch cushion.

So, she allowed herself to feel a tinge of pride in knowing that she was able to take Chandler's breath away. That she could reawaken something inside this man who had known her for so long, that perhaps he took her for granted. He forgot that she was still a young, sexy and vibrant woman and saw her as just one of the guys. Seeing him fall to pieces once he caught a glimpse of her all dressed up almost felt like the rekindling of a marriage that had grown stale. They had become too comfortable with each other, like an old pair of sneakers. And while this was only Chandler, someone she did not intend to get this kind of reaction from, there was a primal part of her that reveled in the fact that she was still considered sexy, even if it was just one of her friends.

"Well, I don't know if he is going to propose."

Chandler finished cleaning the spilled water and stood up. "Yeah, but what about that ring designer thing?"

"Well, he could just be thinking about doing it some day in the future. It would be really fast to propose tonight. We haven't been going out that long. He might not be ready."

Chandler nodded as he wrestled with the paper towels, ripping off the ones he used and trying to roll the rest back up.

"Well, I don't want to sound mean, but, don't worry about what Pete wants. What do you want? Do you want to marry him?"

Monica shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, maybe."

"Ahh. Maybe. The foundation of all successful marriages."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Stop it." She then found she could not ignore the absolute mess he was making with her paper towels and stepped into the kitchen. "Will you let me do that!"

Chandler handed her the unkempt roll and leaned back against the counter. He looked at her, and had a dozen more questions as he saw the trepidation in her body language as they talked about Pete and marriage, but he held his tongue. Thinking it best to let Monica work it out on her own. What did he know about being ready to get married anyway?

Monica glanced at him over her shoulder. She knew what he was thinking. It was written all over his face in a language that at times, only she could read.

"Look. I don't know. I mean, I'm ready for it. I know that. And I think it's time I started looking towards the future."

Chandler nodded. "Sure, sure. That makes sense. But, well, do you really think that's a reason to get married?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I guess, in my head, when I saw you getting married you were all in. You know what I mean? You were excited and bursting with energy. You couldn't stop talking about it and got really annoying to be around."

Monica smirked. "Well, okay, maybe being ready isn't the perfect reason. But I am crazy about him. I know he loves me. We both want a lot of the same things. We both want to have a family someday."

Chandler nodded and watched Monica as she finished fixing the roll of paper towels. He had a sober look on his face, but flashed her a warm smile when she looked back up at him.

"Do you think I should do it?"

Chandler put his hands up. "Woah. I am not the person to look to for advice. Especially about something like this. Go talk to Rachel!"

"I tried, but whenever I talk to her about Pete all she can say is…"

"That he's rich?"

Monica laughed and nodded her head. "Yeah. So I don't know if she is thinking clearly."

Chandler placed his fingers on his chin and let them dance there as he looked off to the side. "If you marry a rich person, does that mean I still have to buy you a present. I mean, you guys would be able to buy all the presents on your own. Not just the ones on your registry mind you. All the presents in the entire store."

Monica let out a trail of mock laughter and sat down. "Well. Like I said. I don't even know if he is going to ask. And I don't know…" Monica's words trailed off, almost like she was afraid to say what she was thinking.

"What?"

"I don't know if I would say yes. I mean, earlier today, I kind of got swept up in it, but now. I don't know."

Chandler nodded. "Well, don't turn him down wearing that dress. Because, that would just be cruel."

Monica grinned as she looked down at the kitchen table. "Seriously, what do you think?"

"You really don't want to know what I think."

"No, I do. I mean, Rachel and Phoebe are all gung-ho about it. I need a skeptic. I need some Chandler to water all that enthusiasm down."

"Wow. I don't think I've ever been compared to a tasteless beverage before."

"Chandler. Seriously."

Chandler flattened his lips as he contemplated what to say next. "I think you have to be sure that this is what you want. That he makes you happy and gets you and…" He stopped talking and shook his head.

"What?"

"Okay. Well, I guess I never saw love and marriage like this. Tuxedos and knock out dresses. Expensive dinners. Country clubs. The only marriage I saw that looked like that was my mom and dad. And we all know how that ended."

Monica nodded, afraid to interrupt lest she lose him down some rabbit hole of crass jokes and sarcasm.

Chandler pulled out a chair to sit, but never did. He just stood there, tapping his foot. It was as if his body had to do something to distract his brain from the words that were about to come out of his mouth. Ensure that he did not sabotage himself.

"My parents' marriage was all just the big things. Grand gestures. They never had the little things."

"The little things?"

"Yeah. The little things. I don't know exactly how to describe it. it's the stuff that makes it easier to be around each other all the time. The big thing make you want to get married. The little thing make you want to stay married."

Chandler sat down as his legs felt like they were going to give out underneath him. As if the sheer willpower it took to take this conversation seriously was making him weak.

"If you are going to spend the rest of your life with someone, you have to make sure that you feel like you're getting all the little things too. Because I've seen a lot of relationships only have the big things, and they get smaller and smaller as time goes on. And if all those little things aren't there, then, it'll all fall apart."

Monica nodded soberly. She felt like she had not seen this version of her friend since Heckles died. This past year he seemed to have regressed after his break-up with Janice. He got even worse after Ross and Rachel ended. Smoking, playing with pornographic pens, adopting ill-advised pets. She had forgotten that underneath all of his juvenile antics, there was still this man who did not want to end up alone. This thoughtful man who perhaps was not afraid of commitment, but simply did not trust it.

Chandler stood back up and rested his hands on the back of the chair. "You know, when I stand up and look down, I think I can see your nipple."

Monica gasped and covered her chest. "What!"

"Nah, I'm just kidding. You know I can't last that long being serious. It was either the nipple joke or I start blowing raspberries."

Monica slid into the back of the black sedan Pete had sent to pick her up and leaned against the window. She watched the city lights going by as the car drove away. Blurred lines obscured by the condensation on the glass. Yet, she could still make out the colors, and for a moment, it soothed her.

As her conversation with Chandler still ran through her mind, her train of thought snagged on a memory from almost two years ago. She was so certain that having a baby with a sperm donor was the right thing to do. She was ready to be a mother. It was time to move on to the next stage in her life. And then her conversation with Joey made her realize that it was not what she wanted. Not like that. That while she thought she was ready, she knew, it would not feel right. She did not want to raise a baby alone. She wanted to share that with someone who loved her.

She looked across at the empty seat next to her. She wondered, if she did marry Pete, how many nights would that seat be empty? Could she still be a chef one day? What kind of marriage would they have if she were here in the city working and he was off in Japan for a month? Would she be too busy flying around with him from city to city, continent to continent, being the dutiful wife of the rich businessman that becoming a head chef would simply fall by the wayside? Could she live with that kind of life? Was the promise of marriage and a family enough to let go of her other dreams? Was she being naïve thinking that she could have all? The career. The husband. The baby.

It was all so confusing.

She still did not know what she would say if Pete proposed tonight.

She knew that if she said yes, her parents would be thrilled, she would have an amazing wedding, a beautiful home, and she would never have to worry about money again.

She would have all of the big things.

She looked over at the empty seat next to her once more, and she wondered to herself.

"But what about the little things?"