The One With The Truth About Santa
By: Jana~
Chapter Two
**
--Cooking was her solace, so the breakfast she created was way above and beyond what was typical. Or needed.
Monica had hoped Chandler would come back, wandering into their room and begging forgiveness, telling her he just got cold feet or something, but he didn't. He stayed away, all night long.
She couldn't sleep, thinking about all that was said; how they'd left things, and she wanted to at least talk to him, to find out where they stood.
The apartment had never looked so good, or smelled so lemony-fresh, cleaning also a comfort to her when she was stressed. And what with all the food, it looked like she was preparing for an extravagant gathering.
"Wow, what's the occasion?" Joey asked, in awe of the elaborate spread of food. "It all looks so delicious!" While reaching for a plate, ready to help himself, he stopped suddenly, asking, "It's for us, right?"
"Yeah, it's for you guys," Monica answered, her attention still on the griddle as she flipped the last of the pancakes.
Happily, he grabbed a plate and started loading it down.
"Is Chandler up yet?" she asked, very aware of how awkward she felt.
"I don't know," he replied, oblivious to the tension radiating from her as he looked towards his friend's bedroom. "Chandler?" he called out, "You up?"
Monica called Joey's name to gain his attention. "He's not in there," she told him, adding the perfectly cooked flapjacks to the stack. "I thought he was over at your place."
Joey scowled as he looked back at her. "Why would he be over there?"
Untying her apron and pulling it off, she informed, "We had a fight last night. He took off."
"Well, he wasn't there when I got up," he said, his attention back on the food table, "But maybe he was up and out the door before I was."
"Yeah," she muttered, unsure. "Maybe."
"Wow! What's all this?" Rachel asked with a laugh, letting herself into her old apartment.
"I was anxious," Monica said quickly in explanation. "Listen, Rach, was Chandler over at your place when you got up?"
"Um, no," she answered, a scowl of confusion that matched Joey's earlier expression.
"Were you up before Joey?" was Monica's next question, her arms crossed, her body tense.
"Isn't everyone?" Rachel asked in response, followed by a chuckle, to which Joey nodded silently in response.
"Chandler and I had a fight last night," Monica explained for the second time, passing the joke without pause. "He took off."
"Uh-oh," Rachel exclaimed, finally getting the serious nature of her stance. "What did you fight about?"
With a sigh, she said, "I think he's getting cold feet."
"What makes you think so?" Rachel asked as she grabbed a plate, at the ready to get some food as soon as Joey moved out of her way.
"Remember that time," Monica began, "When Chandler told Janice he was moving to Yemen, just to get away from her?"
"Yeah?" Rachel answered, her tone encouraging her to continue; Joey shuddered at the mention of the name, but they both pretty much ignored him.
"Well, he kinda did that. Made up some stupid story, but, he really outdid himself this time."
"Why? What did he say?"
"He said-" She stopped abruptly when the door flew open.
"Wow! We havin some sort of party?" Phoebe asked as she walked in, spotting all the food.
"No," Monica explained yet again, "I was just anxious and felt like cooking."
"For all the occupants of the building?" Phoebe asked, laughing at her own sarcastic remark. "Why are you anxious?"
"Monica thinks Chandler is getting cold feet," Rachel informed, catching her up to speed.
"And why does Monica think this?" Phoebe asked, grabbing a plate and getting in line behind Rachel. "It's like a buffet!"
"Better!" Joey announced, his plate piled ridiculously high with everything offered, "It's free!"
"Chandler made up some stupid story," Rachel continued, "Is why Monica thinks he wants out."
"What story did he make up?" Phoebe asked, her attention half on the table full of food.
"He said he was-" Monica tried again to share with her friends the ludicrous story, only to be interrupted yet again.
"God, Monica!"
Everyone turned to see Ross standing at the door.
"Did Times Square call and ask for catering?"
"She was anxious," Phoebe told him, handing him a plate and indicating where the end of the line was.
"Why?" he asked, disbelieving of the sight in front of him. He made a quiet scoffing sound as he muttered, "You could feed an army, here!"
"Chandler's feet are cold," Joey announced, his mouth full. "He took off last night."
"What?" Ross asked in shock. "He's gone for good?"
"I don't know," Monica admitted. "I told him the wedding was off, and when I-"
"Wait," Ross interrupted. "Why did you tell him the wedding was off?" He wasn't nearly as interested in all the food as the rest of the friends were, in light of what his sister had just said.
"Because," she explained, "He made up this crazy story, kinda like the one he made up to get rid of Janice. Remember Yemen?"
"Well, what did he say?" Ross asked, everyone else's attention still very much divided between Monica and the breakfast buffet.
"Napkin please?"
"Oooh, I'll take one of those, too."
"Where's the syrup?"
"He said he was Santa Claus."
All the breakfast time comments ceased instantly, all eyes on her, the room falling silent.
Finally, the hear-a-pin-drop silence was shattered when Joey said, "What?"
The question being asked, and finally out there, the rest followed suit, asking the exact same question with differing degrees of inflection, all at a loss for what else to say as her words sunk in.
"That's what he said," Monica insisted. "He said he was Santa Claus."
Always trying to be logical, and scientific, Ross suggested, "Maybe he meant one of those, mall Santas."
She shook her head. "I asked him that, he said he was the real Santa. He also said he wasn't trying to appear crazy, to get out of the wedding, and that he wasn't sick or delirious." She sighed, "Why would he say something like that if he didn't want out?"
"Maybe it's a prank," Rachel offered. "You know how he is."
"He said it wasn't," Monica muttered sadly, moving to the livingroom to sit on the couch; the rest followed her, all abandoning their plates except for Joey.
"Why are we so certain that he isn't Santa Claus," Phoebe asked. "I mean, none of us really knows what it is that he does for a living."
"Because, Phoebe," Ross informed her staunchly, "Santa Claus isn't real."
"Maybe he really is sick, but just doesn't know it," Rachel added to the list of possibilities, moving the conversation away from the debate she saw coming between Ross and Phoebe. "Sometimes, when people are sick, they don't even realize it, ya'know?"
"Well, if that's the case," Joey asked, "Shouldn't we go and try to find him?"
They all agreed with varying responses, Ross adding, "Monica, you stay here. In case he comes back, or calls."
She nodded in agreement, smiling despite the situation when Joey reached out and grabbed several pieces of French toast for the road.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Please review! And remember… "If Santa and the Holiday Armadillo are ever in the same room for too long, the universe will implode! Merry Christmas!"
MTLBYAKY