Monica couldn't believe it had come to this. He'd left.
After Chandler left their bedroom, she sat heavily on her bed, tears flooding her eyes, staring blearily at the closed door. She looked around her room, their room, pieces of their lives together sitting on the night stands, nailed to the walls, tucked in corners. His alarm clock sat next to her hand lotion. His dirty tennis shoes brushed against her beach sandals. She didn't bother turning around, but she knew that behind her, perched under the lamp on his side of the bed, was a framed picture of them.
She wondered when they had reached this point, when there was no turning back.
They had become engaged nearly two months ago. That had been the most difficult and the most wonderful time of her life. She had never felt so terrified, so uncertain, and so absolutely confident in her future at once. She thought now that perhaps Richard's intrusion in their lives then had been a good thing. It had forced them to turn toward each other so forcefully that not a doubt had been left in her mind that he was it. He was the one. Not a doubt.
But their lives had become impossibly entwined even before his proposal. That came from years of friendship, from years of seeing him every day. He knew all about her proudest moments and her greatest shames, because he had been there, firsthand, for most of them. He had been with her to celebrate. Or he had stayed behind to cry with her. And there had always been a lot of laughter, even in her darkest moments.
Her darkest moments. He knew all about those. Too bad the sharing hadn't been mutual. She hadn't known of his dark times, times that she couldn't imagine enduring, times that made her own bad memories seem insignificant. She wondered how he had managed to come so far in his life with those dark memories weighing him down. She wondered how he had managed to keep it all from her.
And she wondered now how they had arrived at this point, with her sitting in their room, surrounded by their life, alone.
Monica wiped angrily at the tears that had started running down her face and pushed herself off of the bed. She was being overly dramatic. What was she going to do next? Look through old photo albums and love letters? It wasn't as though he had moved out. It wasn't as though they had broken up. Not yet. This was still their home and their life together. Chandler would be back.
+++++
Rachel was with Ross when Chandler arrived at his apartment. After her emotional talk with Monica, she had gone to Ross, debating whether or no to tell him what his sister was thinking. Rachel knew it was something Monica and Chandler needed to work out in private, but it was also a lot of information for her to keep to herself.
As it turned out, all thoughts of telling Ross vanished as soon as she entered his apartment. It was insanely hot outside, but Ross, who hated stale, recycled air, refused to turn on the air conditioning. He was sitting on his couch when she walked in, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and sucking on an ice cube. Rachel never stood a chance.
So when Chandler knocked on the door a few hours later, they were both naked, Rachel's bare thighs draped across Ross's lap. They had been contemplating taking a cold shower together. Chandler walked in barely a second after knocking.
"Hey, Ross, you mind-" Chandler stopped in his tracks. "Oh my God."
"Chandler!" Ross yelled, grabbing his boxers from the floor and pulling them into his lap. Rachel shrieked and wrapped herself in a blanket draped over the back of the couch.
"Holy crap, did I just walk into the past?" Chandler said, holding up one hand and covering his eyes with the other. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry. I'll go. I'm gone. I'm sorry. I didn't see a thing." He turned and walked straight into a wall, missing the doorway with his eyes still closed. Just as he was about to leave, Rachel spotted the suitcase in his hand.
"Chandler?" she said suddenly. "Is everything OK?"
"No, you and Ross are naked," he said.
Rachel pulled the blanket tighter and repeated her question. "Seriously, are you OK?"
Ross, still hunched over on the couch clutching his boxers, threw her a confused glare. Was she crazy? They were naked, practically caught in the act, and she was asking if Chandler was OK?
"Yeah," Chandler said slowly, rubbing his eyes, his back still to them. Then he shook his head. "Not really." He turned to face them then, and Rachel thought he looked exhausted, as though he'd gone far too long without sleep. His eyes were puffy and red. She stood up, pulling the blanket more firmly around her.
"I'll leave," she announced, and started picking up her clothes.
Chandler jerked at this and blinked rapidly at her, like he'd just woken up from a dream. "No, no, God, no, I'll leave. I'm sorry I interrupted your, um, well, whatever. I'll go."
"No, Chandler, you stay. I was on my way out anyway," Rachel said firmly. "I'll be out of here in a minute."
Chandler looked as though he wanted to argue, but Rachel had disappeared into the bathroom before he could say anything. He shuffled in place and passed his suitcase from one hand to the other. Ross could see now why Rachel was behaving oddly. Chandler looked shell-shocked, pale and tired, and on the verge of a breakdown. He was breathing heavily and was swaying slightly from side to side, making him look dizzy.
"Hey, why don't you sit down," Ross said, suddenly feeling less self-conscious about his own appearance. "Let me get dressed, OK? Sit down." Chandler nodded and obeyed. He sat at the far end of the couch from Ross, still gripping his bag.
Ross got up carefully, using a pillow to cover himself from behind, and shuffled to his bedroom. Rachel was in there, buttoning her shirt.
"Rachel, what's going on?" Ross whispered, pulling on his boxers and looking around for a clean T-shirt.
"I'm not sure," Rachel started.
"You know something," Ross hissed, pulling a blue T-shirt over his head. "He looks like he's gonna, I don't know, stick his head in an oven or something. If you know what's wrong, you need to tell me. At least give me some warning before I go out there and talk to him."
"I don't know for sure," Rachel started again, ignoring Ross's frown of impatience. "But maybe, maybe it has to do with something Monica told me this morning."
"And that would be…"
"Monica said she was having doubts."
"Doubts?" Ross said, zipping up his pants now. "What kind of doubts?"
"Wedding doubts."
"What?" Ross said. "Please tell me you mean whether she should wear an off-the-shoulder dress or something with poofy sleeves. Or that she's changed her mind about the flowers again."
"No, not those kind of doubts," Rachel said. "More like groom doubts."
"Oh my God. She doesn't know if she wants to marry Chandler?"
"Ross, I think she's just confused," Rachel said. "All this stuff about Chandler and the accident just got dumped on her, and she doesn't know how to deal with it. I mean, can you really blame her?"
"So she doesn't want to marry him?"
"I don't know. It's not that simple," Rachel said. "Look, you stay here and talk to him, and I'll go talk to Monica, OK? I'm sure they'll work this out."
"Yeah, yeah, OK," Ross said. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Just be a friend. That's all we can do, right?"
They walked out together, and Rachel stopped in front of Chandler.
"Hey, look, I'm really sorry about this," he said.
"Oh please, it's fine. It's not like you haven't seen these babies before," Rachel said, ignoring Ross's bewildered stare. She crouched in front of Chandler and gave him a warm hug. "You'll be OK. We're here for you."
Chandler nodded and mumbled a thank you, then rested his forehead in his hands. Rachel left.
"So, what's going on?" Ross asked, sitting next to Chandler.
"I don't know," Chandler said, shaking his head. He swiped a hand over his face. "Everything's so messed up. Monica, she says she doesn't know if she wants to marry me. You know, because of what happened. I guess I'm not the kind of person she's looking for anymore."
"I'm so sorry," Ross said. He'd seen his friend upset like this before, years ago, but he still didn't know quite what to do or say. He settled for wrapping an arm around Chandler's shoulder.
"I can't lose her, Ross," Chandler said, his voice shaking. "Not now. Not because of this. I just can't."
Chandler broke down then, dropping his suitcase and burying his face in his hands. Ross patted his back and finally reached over and hugged him. When Chandler felt a little more under control, he backed off and smiled nervously.
"So, um, you and Rachel," he began.
"Oh, that. Yeah. Well, you know, bonus night," Ross said.
"Right, bonus night," Chandler repeated.
"Yeah. So, whew, got that out of the way. No more bonus night for us."
"Wow, great, what a relief, man."
"Yeah, because, you know, that'd be awkward, to have bonus night hanging over our heads." Ross couldn't believe they were having this conversation.
"Sure, I mean, you can't just keep having meaningless sex with your ex-girlfriend." Chandler shook his head at his own lame comment.
"No, no, that'd be, well, crazy."
"Right. No, you can't do that."
"No. No. So that was it. No more sex for Ross."
Chandler raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure about that one, my man?"
+++++
Monica was cleaning the bathroom when Rachel got there. Rachel followed the sound of furious scrubbing, and found Monica leaning over the bathtub, her hair falling in her eyes and the front of her tank top wet with perspiration.
"Monica? Honey? What are you doing?"
"I'm basting a chicken," Monica said, blowing the hair out of her face. "What does it look like? I'm cleaning."
"OK." Monica continued scrubbing, ignoring Rachel, who put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. "Um, Mon, you think you could stop for a minute?"
Monica gave one more brisk scrub, then leaned over the edge of the bathtub for a moment. "Fine," she said and pulled the plastic gloves off her hands. "What's up?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I don't know if I want to talk about it now."
Rachel started the conversation for her. "You kicked out Chandler?"
"What? Is that what he said?" Monica slapped her hand against the floor. "I didn't kick him out. He left."
"No, Mon, he didn't say anything," Rachel said. "I just assumed, you know, because you were so upset."
"Because I was upset," Monica repeated. "You know what I can't figure out? Why am I the only one who's upset? Why is everyone else acting like it's no big deal? Everybody's like, 'Oh, it's Chandler, he's our buddy.' Why is it so easy for you to accept this?"
"It's not," Rachel said, surprised by Monica's outburst. "It's not easy for any of us. I mean, yes, he's our friend, but my God, trust me, we all know how horrible this is."
"Then why aren't you acting like it's horrible? Why am I the one feeling guilty, like I'm not supposed to judge him? He's the one who messed up."
"I don't know, Mon, because that's not coming from any of us. We know this is hard for you, and we know you're dealing with it the best you can," Rachel said. They were quiet for a moment, and then Rachel leaned forward and folder her hands in front of her. "Can I tell you something?"
"What?" Monica said miserably.
"When I was in high school, I don't think you knew this, but I did a some of the things Chandler was talking about."
"What do you mean?"
"It wasn't very often, maybe three times total, but I went to a few parties with Chip, and I know there were some nights when we shouldn't have driven home, when both of us were way too drunk. Once, one time, I was even the one driving. Monica, what happened to Chandler, that could've so easily been me."
"Oh, wow," Monica said quietly, and leaned heavily against the side of the bathtub, ignoring the cold porcelain chilling her arms. The truth was, she wasn't surprised to hear this from Rachel. If anything, she was surprised at how little this news affected her. She was surprised that it made such a big difference to her that Rachel was just a friend, not someone she was supposed to marry and spend the rest of her life with. And no one had ever died because of Rachel.
Yes, she felt disappointed in Rachel. She lost a little respect for her. But Monica had always known that Rachel was a little wild in high school. She always figured her friend was a little lucky to have made it out unscathed. And that was what it was all about _ luck. Both Chandler and Rachel had made bad decisions a long time ago, but to very different results.
And that was the point. Chandler's bad decision had killed people. Rachel's hadn't.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," Rachel went on. "I don't feel like I need to get it off my chest or anything. But I think maybe that's why I have an easier time accepting Chandler now, and what he did. Because it could've been me."
Monica nodded.
Rachel stayed with her for another couple hours, although they talked little about Chandler or the accident or the wedding. They made dinner together, and when Phoebe and Joey came home, explained what had happened.
Joey took the news of their fight the hardest.
"Man, after all that trouble you two went through getting engaged," he said. "You can't call off the wedding now."
"Joey, I'm not calling it off," Monica said. "I'm just, thinking about things, I guess. I don't know what's going to happen."
"But he left," Joey said. "He moved out. He even took his shower cap with him."
"Chandler uses a shower cap?" Phoebe asked.
"He has a sensitive scalp," Monica said.
"Look, it's really none of our business," Rachel said. "Their relationship, not Chandler's scalp," she added to Phoebe.
"Well, that's really none of our business either," Phoebe admitted. "But it's a little weird. Chandler in a shower cap?"
"Anyway, this is between Monica and Chandler," Rachel said. "We need to let them handle this."
"But he's my best friend," Joey said. "Monica, you know you love him. Just give him another chance, let him explain."
"He already has," Monica said. "Joey, I know this is hard for you, I know you care about him, but trust me, it's hard for me too. This isn't just some rash decision I made. I haven't even decided anything yet."
"I know, I know," Joey said, starting to cry.
"Hey, I know what'll make you feel better," Phoebe said, and whispered in his ear. Joey smiled reluctantly.
"OK," he said, and let Phoebe lead him out of the apartment.
"Seriously, what is going on with those two?" Monica asked. Rachel shrugged.
"Seriously, I think they're doing it," Rachel said. "And if this keeps up, we may be going to a wedding next year no matter what you decide."
+++++
The next few days weren't fun for anyone. Chandler tried to make it easier for his friends, insisting that he didn't mind if they hung out with Monica, and that he needed the time alone anyway. The truth was, aside from just forgetting all this had happened and returning to his life with Monica, he didn't know what he needed. He felt equal degrees of anguish and desperation no matter what he was doing _ watching TV, going to work, spending time with friends. So he figured he might as well encourage them to hang out with Monica. He secretly hoped they would cheer her up and convince her to come back to him.
He fought the near-constant urge to call her. He didn't really know what to say anyway. But he often felt like he should at least try, just pick up the phone or show up at their front door, and keep talking until he convinced her that he was OK, that they would be OK. The fact that he couldn't convince her felt like just another shortcoming on his part. It felt like he wasn't trying hard enough.
Monica, meanwhile, was fighting the same urge to call him. It struck her as absurdly ironic that the one person she would usually turn to in such a difficult time was the person causing all her misery. She wanted to talk things over with him. She wanted him to convince her they would be OK. But, just as he didn't know what to say, she didn't know what she wanted to hear.
On the third morning that Monica woke up alone, it took her a long time to get out of bed. She hated the mornings, when the realization of all that had happened was fresh and new.
She sat up in bed and stared absently out the window. She was pushing her engagement ring up and down her finger, as she often did when she was thinking. She glanced down at her hand and slid the ring off her finger, holding it in her palm. It was so light.
Monica was no closer to making a decision about their future that morning than she had been a few days ago. It seemed somehow wrong now to wear this ring. With a rushed motion, before she could reconsider, Monica set the ring on the night stand on Chandler's side of the bed, and got up to take a shower.
+++++
Chandler stopped by the apartment a few hours later, quietly opening the front door and sweeping a glance around the room to make sure it was empty before stepping inside. He had taken a late lunch so he could go to the apartment while Monica was at work. He needed more clothes and toiletries.
He went first to the bathroom and collected his shaving cream and another shower cap. His next step was the bedroom. Chandler filled his suitcase with fresh socks and underwear, then grabbed a few shirts and ties from his closet. He zipped up the bag and took one more glance around the room, trying not to notice the pieces of Monica that he missed so much _ the shirt she wore to bed draped over a chair, a hair clip on her nightstand, the novel she was reading, carefully book-marked and lying on her pillow. He remembered his watch was in his nightstand drawer, and moved to his side of the bed.
That was when he saw the ring.
She'd taken it off. It was lying between his alarm clock and the lamp, in front of a picture of the two of them together, laughing.
Chandler felt suddenly furious, felt so angry at seeing that ring, her ring, not on her hand. And then it struck him all at once as absurd, almost laughable if it wasn't so painful, that the situation had come to this. It was wrong. Everything was just so wrong.
Chandler reached down and carefully picked up the ring between his thumb and forefinger. He slid it onto the tip of his finger and frowned at it. Then he slipped it into his pocket, picked up his suitcase and marched out of the apartment.