Hello children, here is my next one. I had the idea and so I wanted to get it up, even though I'm leaving school for Christmas break and my computer at home is iffy at best, but here is the first part and please review, because if you review I will try even harder to get up the next chapter. The song is by Train. I'm currently on a Train kick. Aren't they just fantastic? Please, if you would be so kind, review for me? Thanks! : )
Disclaimer: Now really, do you really think that they belong to me? Right. Uh-huh. Nope, the characters are not mine.
It was snowing as Chandler made his way to his door. His feet were wet, and he was cold, but he somehow wasn't too worried about it. More than anything, he didn't want to go inside the house. He would have stayed out in the cold for much longer if it meant that he didn't have to go inside his house. Coming from the warmth and laughter of his friends and their families, he just didn't have the energy to face his own wife. He sighed as he placed his hand on the knob and turned it to step inside.
"Where have you been?" It came as soon as he had stepped inside the door. That shrill voice that broke the silence and made him wince and want to turn and run.
"I was at Ross and Rachel's," he told her, although he knew that she knew where he had been.
"Yes, I know, but you were supposed to be home an hour ago," she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.
"What do you want from me? I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. We started talking and we just stayed and reminisced for awhile. Is that a crime?" Why did he always feel like this now? Why did he always feel like he was letting her down? He never used to feel like this….when had this started? This always one step behind, too slow, always wrong feeling that came over him every time she was around? Where had that come from?
" You could have called," she said. "I had no idea that you were going to stay. I had no idea what time to expect you home again. I had no idea if you had gone somewhere else and whether or not I should have been worried about you!" Worried. Right. Because she always worried so much over him.
"Right. I should have called. I'm sorry." Those words just came so naturally out of his mouth. "I'm sorry." Instead of accepting his apology, she just sighed and turned around and walked back into the kitchen.
"Did she bring Hannah?" Hannah. His little girl. She hated that he had a daughter that wasn't hers. She hated that he came with baggage. Of course he came with baggage, everyone came with baggage. Everyone had a past. It was just that she was reminded of his past every day by Hannah.
He hadn't married Hannah's mother. Often times he felt himself regretting that he never married her. Often? Who was he kidding? He regretted that every damn day. But Hannah. Hannah was perfect. She was exactly like her mother, both in looks and personality, but she had his sense of humor. Even at four she was a riot, coming up with sentences that gave him a run for his money. And her mother, to his surprise, encouraged it. She said that she found it funny, but he wondered if there was a little part of her that wanted that reminder of him. After all, Hannah was a huge reminder of her, and he loved it. He loved that Hannah looked exactly like her mother. It made him feel as if maybe he hadn't lost everything when he lost her.
No, he had lost everything. Tonight he could have gone back with Hannah and tucked her into bed and then sat up with wine glasses with her mother like they used to. Talking about everything and nothing and listening to Joni Mitchell and other mellow, slightly melancholy music. Instead he had come home, and come to a house that was filled with tension. Tension so thick that it would take a chainsaw to cut through it. Upon coming in the other day with Chandler, even Hannah had spoken up.
"Did you get into a fight?" She asked. Yes, Chandler wanted to answer her. We're constantly in a fight. It is never-ending.
"No, sweetie. Why?" Hannah had just shrugged leaving Chandler to wonder on just how much she picked up on.
"Yes, they were there. Hannah learned a Christmas song in preschool that she sang for us," he grinned as he remembered it. "She said that she'll sing it for you next time she sees you." Hannah had no idea that her step-mother wasn't overly fond of her. It must be wonderful to be a kid, Chandler thought to himself. God, it had been hard to leave his daughter tonight. Maybe because it was Christmas. Maybe it was because he knew that he would have to go home to his wife. And he just didn't want to have to do that.
He walked into the kitchen and saw the bags on the counter.
"Did you have fun shopping?" He asked trying to lighten the mood and change the subject.
"I guess. Initials on everything are all the rage," she said stepping into the kitchen. "But the problem is that they're always out of M's. I mean, it would be great if my name started with an E because they had tons of E's, but no M's. But I got a cute little bag with an H on it for Hannah." She pulled it out of the bag with a flourish and he smiled and nodded. Her mother would never let her carry it around it. It was bright green. Hannah was dressed impeccably by her mother and Aunt Rachel. Bright green wasn't their thing. But he didn't say that, he just nodded and smiled.
"She'll love it," he assured her lying through his teeth.
Tried to write a letter
To tell you how I feel
But all I kept on writing
Is slipping on the tears
Of the day
When I was young and brave
He didn't get it. She had been friends with his friends. But she had stopped wanting to come to get-togethers with them.
"She'll be there." She didn't ever call Hannah's mother by her name, it was always, "she did this." Or "I can't believe she let Hannah do that." Chandler always tried to defend her as the mother of his child, but found that it only got him in trouble with his wife. So he gave up, quite simply and honestly.
"I'm going to go to bed," he said excusing himself and hurrying up the stairs to their bedroom. Ignoring him, she nodded and busied herself with unpacking all her purchases from that day. Climbing the stairs, he had to remind himself that he loved her.
It was a terrible thing when you have to remind yourself that you are in love with your wife.
It meant one thing.
His marriage was dead.
The worst part of it was that he didn't feel as terrible as he should have. His marriage was over. He had to leave his wife. He had failed. He had been right. The Bings had terrible marriages. Maybe that was why he had never married Hannah's mother, he was too afraid that he would lose her.
Instead he gave her up.
"You don't really want to get married," she had yelled at him.
"Well, if you want to get married, we will," he had sighed exasperatedly at her. He was doing what she wanted. He told her that he would get married.
"Are you marrying me because you want to? Or because I'm pregnant?" Did she want the truth? She didn't even wait for him to respond.
"That's what I thought."
"That's not fair."
"What's not fair?"
"You didn't give me a chance to answer!"
"Your silence was answer enough, Chandler. If you don't want to get married, we won't get married." And though he had sighed a sigh of relief, one land mine missed, he knew that things could never be the same again. And they weren't. They stayed together throughout her pregnancy and finally at Hannah's first birthday they both admitted to themselves that they were going about this all wrong. That they couldn't make it work.
That's when he turned to his wife, although she wasn't his wife then, and in a drunken state, slept with her. It was a mistake, but it was a mistake that turned into something more. And they were married. And he saw Hannah every chance that he could.
But it wasn't enough. And having his wife not really like having Hannah there with them made it that much more difficult.
It was like asking for him to choose between his daughter or his wife, and he hated to break it to her, but he would always choose Hannah. Always.
So now all he had to do was break it to her.
He wanted a divorce.
Now all these hotel lobbies are filled
With what's to me
Lonely midnight drivers
Drifting out to sea
And all those late night lovers
Don't make things better to me
He left the next day. Packed up his bags and called up his best friend Joey and asked if he could stay with him for awhile. At least until he found a place of his own. That was the plan. It was to take it one day at a time. One step at a time.
He'd move out.
Find a place of his own.
And then try to win his family back. Or he supposed, he never had them, so to win them in the first place.
Yes, that was the plan. And it was a good plan, he though.
His wife, no surprise, had not been too thrilled when he announced that he was leaving her.
"Where are you going to go?"
"Live with Joey for awhile."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because we don't work anymore." What an answer. And he could tell by her face it was one that she hadn't wanted to hear.
"We don't work anymore?" She screamed. Picking up a shoe, she tossed it at the door. "Go to hell Chandler." Sighing, he picked up his suitcase and left the apartment and her crying. She should have seen this coming. He was sure that she had, she was just in denial. After all, he had been in denial for quite some time before he came to his senses. He didn't want to be married anymore. Or at least not to her.
His heart belonged to someone else. It always had.
And he was going to win her back.
So let it roll into me
Let it roll into you
Let it roll into me
Let it roll into back into when I had you
Okay, so I'm definitely going to have the next part up by Friday at the latest, but only if you review! So review people! All right, it's back to studying. This was a nice little breather. Ahh. Okay, now back to finals hell. Blah.