Everyone jumped back from the door when they heard Chandler start to open it. He stopped in the doorway, dismayed to see his friends forming a tight semicircle around him.
"Oh my God, are you OK?" Monica asked, taking a step closer to him when she saw the red welt blossoming on his face. She reached out to touch his warm cheek. He took her hand and nodded.
"I'm fine." Chandler walked the rest of the way into the apartment and stopped halfway toward the couch, then slowly turned to face everyone. "You guys heard everything?"
"Yeah," Ross said, nodding slowly. Chandler put a hand to his face and looked away.
"Wow, does that guy ever tell some stories," Phoebe said, interrupting the uncomfortable silence with a nervous laugh.
"Seriously, was anything he said tonight true?" Joey asked. "I mean come on, you having sex at 16? There's no way."
Chandler didn't say anything. Monica broke through her crowd of friends and handed him a towel and some ice.
"Mon-" Chandler started, and tried to grab her hand again. She backed away instead.
"You should put that on your face," she said. "It's already swelling."
Ross shifted at the uncomfortable exchange and glanced at Rachel. Everyone looked horrified and completely fascinated at the same time. They all wanted to hear the whole story. But Ross thought it best to give Monica and Chandler some space. Rachel apparently agreed. She shook her head abruptly and cleared her throat.
"Um, we should all probably get going," she said, and was met with mumbles of agreement. Monica didn't say anything, but Chandler looked up at the rest of his friends.
"No. Stay. I only want to explain this once." Chandler turned away and held the towel up to his eye as everyone else looked uncomfortably at each other, but finally settled around the living room. Monica wandered back to the kitchen, where she sat in a chair.
"So, um, to sum it all up, I know you guys all thought I was this great guy, but I'm actually an asshole," Chandler started.
"Yeah, I never thought you were all that great of a guy," Phoebe said.
Chandler laughed shortly at the small joke, and tried to give Phoebe a brief smile for her attempt at lightening the mood. He failed.
"Obviously, most of what Vic said tonight wasn't true," Chandler went on. He had decided to start from the beginning. "We didn't rob liquor stores, I never got backstage at a Guns N Roses concert and I had sex for the first time when I was 19, not with a stripper at my 16th birthday party."
"Are you sure you weren't 20?" Rachel asked. Ross nudged her shoulder and glared at her for interrupting.
"Nineteen," Chandler said. "Anyway, I'm not sure why he lied to you guys tonight. Vic's just, well, he's been messed up since … well, for a long time. Or maybe it's just easier to feed everyone a bunch of lies than tell the truth."
"What's the truth, Chandler?" Monica asked quietly. She was staring at her hands, which were folded in her lap. He looked at her and ran a hand through his hair.
"It's what I always told you guys. I was a geek in high school."
"But there's more," Rachel said.
"Yeah. A lot more," Chandler said. "We were this small group of friends, me and Vic and Kit and Kirk. And honestly, all through high school all we mostly did was hang out in our rooms and play cards or video games, talk about all the girls we'd never get. But every now and then, when someone's parents were gone, we'd raid the liquor cabinet and get really drunk. We thought we were real cool, you know? And then, sometimes, after drinking all that expensive booze, we'd sort of borrow a car. It seemed like everyone's dad, well, everyone's but mine, had a Porsche or a Ferrari or some exotic sports-car, and so we'd take it out and just drive around town."
"You'd drive drunk," Phoebe said.
"Yeah, we would. It was the'80s, you know? It sounds lame, but everyone did it. We even got pulled over by a cop once, and you know he just let us go? We told him we were just a couple blocks from home, and he let us go, told us to never do it again. I mean, it's no excuse. We knew what we were doing was stupid. It's not like we didn't know any better. But we did it anyway."
"So what happened?" Joey asked.
"One night, um, it was the end of our junior year, and we were at Vic's place. I think we were taking a break from studying for finals or something. And Vic's little sister, Amy, she was hanging out with us. We'd gotten into his dad's scotch and someone, probably Kit because he had an older brother, had brought a ton of beer, so we'd gone through that too. And then we all went out in Vic's dad's Ferrari. We took turns driving. Kirk was the last to go."
"Kurt, like Kurt Cobain? Or Kirk, like Kirk Cameron?" Joey asked.
"Or Captain Kirk?" Phoebe clarified.
"Captain Kirk," Chandler said. "Anyway, me and Vic and Amy were crammed into the back of the car, and Kirk and Kit were in the front. They were best friends. And man, Kirk was so drunk, he couldn't even walk. I remember that still, how he bumped into the car and fell into this rose bush, and then he hit his head when he got in the front seat. We were laughing so hard at him. He was so drunk, we all were, and we were getting into a car with him, and we were just laughing. How sick is that?"
Chandler drew in a deep, shaky breath. "So I don't know how long we were driving. I don't remember if we were swerving or going too fast or what. Probably we were. But somehow Kirk ended up in the wrong lane, on the wrong side of the road. And this woman, God, this woman, we hit her head on."
Chandler paused, and no one interrupted him. "She died instantly. Amanda White. That was her name. She had two kids in the back seat, she'd just picked them up at the baby sitter's, but they were OK. Their mom was dead, but they were OK. And Kirk, he died a few hours later at the hospital."
"What about Amy?" Rachel asked, her stunned voice matching her face.
"Amy." He said the name softly, blinking rapidly at the tears threatening to spill. "She was 14. She was so pretty. And she was so smart. She loved hanging out with us, she thought we were cool or something." He paused and licked his lips. "She was sitting between me and Vic, no seatbelt, and she got thrown forward. She went right through the windshield. They thought she was gonna die, but she made it. She's brain damaged now. Last I heard, she lives in a care home in Delaware."
Chandler stopped talking then and the room became eerily silent. He'd done it. He'd told them everything. Chandler stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away, unable to face his friends. Monica was still sitting in the kitchen, her face drawn and blank. Nobody knew what to say.
Ross stood up and walked to Chandler, gripping his shoulder affectionately and trying to peer into his friend's face. Chandler just looked away.
"Ross?" Monica spoke up softly.
"Yeah?"
"Um, do you think we can be alone?"
"Yeah, of course." Ross turned once more to Chandler, who had the towel pressed to his face again. "You OK?"
"I'm fine," Chandler said thickly.
"Call me later, or stop by, you know, if you need anything." Chandler didn't respond.
Everyone else stood up and filed to the door, not sure what to say or do. Rachel was the last to walk by Chandler. Before she passed him, she paused and gave him a quick hug.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "But remember, we're your friends, and we love you."
"Thanks." Chandler knew he didn't deserve her sympathy, or her support. He didn't watch as his friends walked out, silent as they tried to digest what they had just been told.
+++++
Chandler walked across the room toward Monica after everyone had left. He set the towel, now soggy with melted ice, on the table and sat in a chair across from her.
"I'm so sorry, Monica."
"Why are you sorry?" she asked.
"I'm sorry about the accident, and I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I'm sorry I never told you."
Monica grabbed the towel and carried it to the sink, where she squeezed it out before taking more ice out of the freezer and creating another icepack for him. She handed Chandler the bundle and then sat down again.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Chandler took a deep breath. "I didn't know what to say."
"You managed OK just now."
"I didn't know how to bring it up. Where to start."
"We've known each other for almost 13 years. We've been best friends for eight years. We've been sleeping together for two years. You could have found the time."
"How do you tell your best friend that you killed someone?"
"You didn't kill them," Monica said dully.
"I might as well have." Chandler sighed. "Look, Mon, there isn't a day that's gone by that I haven't felt horrible, felt totally ashamed of myself for what happened that night. Why would I want to share that with the people I love? Why bog them down in that? It's my horror story. No one else, especially you, deserves to go through that with me."
"What are you talking about?" Monica said, stunned by his line of thinking. "What do you think I'm here for? You think I'm just here for the good times? That I'm with you just because you make me laugh, because you make me happy?"
"Well, isn't that it?"
"Chandler, I'm here for everything. That's what friends, that's what girlfriends and wives and all the people you love are there for. We help each other through everything. Think of all the times you've been there for me, for any one of us, when something terrible happened. When Ross cheated on Rachel, did we all desert him? When, when Rachel practically broke up Ross and Emily, did we abandon her? Or you, when you kissed Kathy, and you nearly ruined your friendship with Joey, weren't we all there for you? Maybe we don't always agree with our friends or support what they did, but we support them."
"But you didn't go through this with me. I went through all this alone. It happened so long ago. There wasn't anything you could do about it."
"You were afraid of what I'd think. Of what we'd all think about you."
"Yes. Of course," Chandler said. "But that wasn't all. I just knew it would make you so unhappy to know this, and there wasn't anything you could do about it. I dealt with it all a long time ago. There isn't anything you could do or say now that would change the past."
"I know, but that's not what matters," Monica said. "What matters is being honest and open with each other. Not holding things back. Not keeping secrets. Not lying to each other."
"I never lied to you," Chandler said.
"Maybe not, but it kinda feels like you did."
Chandler looked up at her and saw that she was crying, staring up at the ceiling to keep the tears from running down her cheeks.
"See, see, this is why I didn't tell you. Look how miserable you are. You're crying. Look at what I've done."
"I'm not crying because of that damn accident," Monica shouted, finally losing her temper. "It hurts that you didn't say anything sooner. You not telling me this, it's like you didn't trust me. And not only that, to keep something this big away from me, it's like, it's like, well what else is there? What else are you hiding? I want you to tell me everything. I want to know everything about you. And now it's like we're starting from scratch. It's like I know nothing about you."
"Monica, you know that's not true," Chandler said.
"How could I know that? If you didn't tell me this, something so big, what else might there be?"
"There's nothing. That's the big secret."
Monica sighed heavily and wiped at her eyes. "I just don't understand why you couldn't tell me."
"I told you. I love you, and I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want this to drag you down." Chandler looked down at his hands. "I was wrong, OK? I understand that. And I'm sorry. I should have told you."
"Yes. You should have."
"I didn't want you to hate me," Chandler said, his own voice shaking now. "I hated myself for so long after that crash. I still hate myself. And the way I felt, I didn't want you to ever think that about me."
"I could never hate you," Monica said, looking up at him. "I hate what you did, I hate what happened. But it's too late. I love you now, and I could never hate you."
"God, I'm so sorry."
Chandler finally broke down. Monica stood up and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. She cried as he shook in her arms. And she wondered to herself how she was going to process this information. The man she was going to marry in less than a year was indirectly responsible for killing two people, and for ruining one girl's life. Monica pulled Chandler closer and tried to ignore the cold, sick feeling growing in her stomach, the feeling that made her want to push him away instead of hold him to her. She could accept this. She could be OK with this. She loved him.
+++++
Their friends had gathered across the hall.
"So, let me get this straight. Chandler's never had sex with a stripper?" Joey said, trying to lighten the mood and delay a difficult conversation as everyone settled around his living room.
Phoebe shook her head, and everyone else ignored him.
"How could he not tell us?" Rachel asked. "It's just terrible. Imagine keeping that to himself all these years."
"I feel like everything's different now," Phoebe said. "It's like it all happened to a different person, like it can't be our friend Chandler."
"Yeah," Joey said. "The Chandler I know would never do anything like that."
"Come on, guys," Ross said. "You can't know what it was like for him. Remember what it's like to be 16? Remember all the stupid things you did? I mean, Phoebe, you've done some pretty crazy things. You must have some stuff in your past that you're not proud of."
"Yeah, but nothing like that," Phoebe said. "Murder is a little out of my league."
"It wasn't murder," Ross said angrily. "He was just a stupid kid who messed up, and his friends messed up, and people died because of it. It was an accident."
"No," Phoebe said, "an accident is when you drop your fork at a restaurant and the waiter has to bring you a new one, or when you're trying to take a picture in Central Park and some guy walks right in front of the camera without looking and ruins your shot, or when-"
"OK, got it," Ross said.
"What I mean," Phoebe continued, "is an accident is a mistake, when someone does something stupid without thinking, and no one meant any harm."
"Yeah, and I think that's what happened with Chandler," Ross said. He sighed and looked desperately at his friends. He wanted them to understand, for Chandler's sake. "You think he meant for those people to die? Yes, what happened was horrible. But it was an accident. A tragic, terrible accident."
Everyone was silent again.
"I just don't know if I can look at him the same," Joey said finally.
"Guys, Chandler needs us now," Ross said. "He's our friend, and we all care about him, and we have to take the good and the bad. You may think he's an asshole, but this is like the only bad thing he's ever done. And yes, it was horrible, but think about the five worst things you've ever done, and then see who's the asshole."
Everyone was thoughtful for a few minutes. Joey was the first to volunteer something from his past.
"Yeah, I, um, I once beat up this kid in junior high for being a big dork," he said. "I didn't mean it, but I actually hurt him kinda bad. He had to go to the emergency room and everything."
"I told everyone at school that Lucy Reynolds had chlamydia in the 10th grade," Rachel said. "It was just supposed to be a joke, but it stuck with her, and she couldn't get a boyfriend until college."
Everyone looked at Phoebe.
"Hey, don't even get me started," she said.
"Guys, Ross is right," Joey said. "Right now we see the awful thing that Chandler did, but we know he's a good guy. He's still the best friend I've ever had."
"You're right," Phoebe said, and then repeated it with more conviction. "You're right. He's still Chandler. He's still our dorky gay friend."
"Yeah, we all know what a great friend he is," Rachel said. "Now we have to be there for him."
"Good," Ross said, sighing in relief. "I just hope Monica's as understanding." Everyone fell silent again. It was hard to tell how Monica would take this information. They all knew she loved him, but news like this, especially since he'd never told her about it, could be devastating.
Ross and Phoebe stayed at Joey's apartment late that night, everyone tired but too shocked by the night's events to sleep. Instead, they sat around drinking beer and talking about what had happened.
"Kind of ironic, drinking after a night like this," Rachel said, holding up her second beer.
"Yeah, I hadn't thought about that," Joey said, looking distastefully at his drink before taking a sip. Rachel let a few minutes of silence pass before deciding on a change of topic.
"So, Joey," she said. "You'll never guess who I saw naked in your room today."
Joey looked anxiously at Phoebe, who took a sudden interest in her shoes.
"Why didn't anyone tell me my shoes were untied? So embarrassing," Phoebe said, reaching down to fiddle with the knots in her shoelaces.
"More embarrassing than being caught naked in Joey's room?" Rachel asked.
"What are you talking about?" Ross asked.
"Man, am I tired," Phoebe said, stretching her arms wide and yawning. "All these secrets, dirty pasts, sex with strippers. I've got a lot of my novel to work on tonight."
"Yeah, me too. So tired," Joey said, matching her yawn and stretches. Before Rachel or Ross could react, Phoebe ran through the front door and Joey disappeared into his bedroom.
"What was that all about?" Ross asked.
Rachel shrugged. "I think they're doing it."
"Wow," Ross said. "So, um, speaking of doing it-"
"Yeah, come on." Rachel pulled Ross into her room. "But try to keep down the yelling. We have thin floors."
Thirty minutes later, Ross and Rachel lay sleepily in her bed, both staring up at the ceiling. The sex _ Rachel had lost track of which bonus night they were on now _ had been a nice distraction from the otherwise upsetting night, but now Chandler was back on her mind.
"I still can't believe he never told us," Rachel said softly.
"Well, it can't be easy, talking about something like that," Ross said.
Rachel rolled into his chest, craving the comfort of a friend more than the physical intimacy now. He wrapped an arm around her.
"You were a good friend to him tonight," she said.
"He deserves a good friend," Ross said simply. "I just hope he realizes that."