Chapter 9
Monica sat in the last pew of the small, quiet chapel, allowing its warmth and the flames from the lit candles at the altar to comfort her. Daniel had gone back to the "Coral Sea", assuring her that he would take care of all the arrangements to have her things and Chandler's moved to the hotel the nurse in the Emergency Room had recommended.
From somewhere, maybe even in her own head, Monica heard soft, soothing music. She leaned back in the pew, closed her eyes, and let the memories flood her mind. She had to admit them into her consciousness. She'd said she wanted to heal, and yet she knew she'd never given herself a chance. She'd never given Chandler a chance either. Somehow, through sheer mental energy and willpower, she had to reach the man she loved, so he would know she was with him. She had to find a way to let him know what had happened before it was too late.
**Flashback - Late November 2000**
A totally dazed Monica walked into her apartment. She tried to hang her coat and purse on a hook and missed. And she didn't care. She bumped into one of the kitchen chairs and then finally collapsed onto it, almost falling to the floor when she didn't hit it just right.
"Mon, what's wrong?" Rachel asked, alarmed.
She'd never seen her friend so out of it. She knew Monica and Chandler had been arguing over the wedding plans and that's why she'd come by. She wanted to find out if things had gotten better. Judging by Monica's state, she could only assume they hadn't.
"Is Chandler here?" Monica asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No. I haven't seen him."
"Rach, I'm in big trouble. Big, big trouble. I can't believe this is happening."
"What, honey?" Rachel asked, sliding her chair next to her friend's and placing a hand on her arm. "You can't believe what's happening?"
Monica turned and stared at Rachel's concerned and interested face.
"I don't think I can tell you."
"Of course you can," Rachel admonished. "Monica, you can tell me anything."
"This is huge, Rach. Really huge. If I tell you, you can't tell anyone else. I mean absolutely no one else on this planet."
"I can do that." She gave her friend's arm a gentle squeeze. "Monica, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
"I just came from the doctor. I'm pregnant. My due date is right between the wedding and the honeymoon!"
Rachel's eyes grew huge and her hand flew to her mouth.
"I know," Monica said, without her usual exuberance. "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?!"
"Well...Mon...you're going to have the baby, of course. This is what you've dreamed of your entire life."
"But not like this!" she cried.
"Okay, things didn't go exactly according to plan, but still...you'll be married and then you'll have the baby. Or, if the baby's early, you'll already have given birth and then you'll marry the man who loves you with everything he is."
"I can't get married in May! This changes everything!"
"So, you don't have the wedding of your dreams, but Mon, think about it," Rachel said, a small smile forming on her lips, "you are going to have everything you've ever wanted. Marriage to the man you were meant to be with and a baby. C'mon, sweetie, it's not that bad."
Monica stared at her friend. "And you don't think Chandler is going to freak out about this...at all?!"
Rachel thought about it. "Oh, right, Chandler. Well, there's nothing he can do about it. He's the father. The life you're carrying inside is his responsibility. He has to marry you, Mon. He can't walk away from you and this baby."
"But what if he does? What if he thinks I did this on purpose? To trap him? I told you we've been arguing about the wedding and that he's been drinking more and coming home late a lot of nights. What if my being pregnant is the last straw? What if he hates me? What if he walks out that door and never comes back?"
"Honey, I don't think you're giving Chandler enough credit. Yeah, sure, he's gonna go all Chandler on you when you first tell him. You gotta expect that. But he loves you, Monica, and it's not like he said he never wanted children, right?"
"No, but still..."
"Mon, honey, you gotta tell him, and the sooner the better. Otherwise, you are going to drive yourself crazy needlessly. And that won't be good for you or the baby. This will all work out. It will. But you have to tell him."
"You're right," Monica said, trying to steady her emotions. "I have to talk to Chandler."
Rachel checked her watch. "He'll probably be home soon. I'm going to leave so you can tell him tonight. Please tell him tonight, Mon."
"I will," she assured her friend.
Just as soon as I figure out how, she added silently.
**
Late that night, Chandler finally arrived home.
"Hey, Mon," he said, strutting into their apartment as if he didn't have a care in the world.
He removed his coat and scarf and threw them carelessly over the back of the sofa.
"Where have you been?" Monica demanded, her nerves frazzled. "Do you realize what time it is? Do you know what a phone looks like and how to use it?!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take a chill pill, babe. We're not married yet."
Monica's gaze narrowed on her fiancé. "Have you been drinking? Again?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," Chandler said, plopping down on the couch next to Monica. "It's the holidays. Time for good tidings and all of that, right?"
"You don't have to go out with the guys from work every night. I would like to see you once in a while. When you're sober."
"Why?" he asked, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
Monica started to tell him to take his shoes off and then stopped. What was the point?
"So we can disagree some more about how to have the 'perfect wedding'?" he continued, his tone mocking. "Which, by the way, I want to talk to you about."
He pointed his index finger at Monica; she slapped it away.
"I'm not talking with you about anything tonight. I had something very important I needed to tell you, but you need to be sober to hear it. I'm going to bed. There's a plate of food for you in the fridge to heat up. Oh, and 'babe', since you look so comfortable on that couch, why don't you just plan to stay there...all night!"
**End of Flashback**
Monica opened her eyes and brushed away the burning tears. How had something so wonderful gone so wrong in such a short amount of time? And what if she never got the opportunity to fix it?
"Ms. Geller?"
Monica turned at the female voice and saw a nurse standing in the doorway.
"Dr. Gamboa would like a word with you."
"Of-of course."
Monica gathered her purse and followed the nurse, who looked to be a native of the island, down a long, stark-white, antiseptic-smelling corridor to the Operating Room waiting area. The nurse introduced her to the dark-haired, dark-eyed surgeon, who still wore his green scrubs, and then left them alone.
"How's Chandler?" she asked, her worried blue eyes trying to read his facial expression.
He looked grim. Monica's stomach muscles tightened. She found it difficult to breathe. Please tell me he's alive and that he's going to make it, she silently begged. Please.
"Mr. Bing came through the surgery but not without difficulty," Dr. Gamboa said.
"But he's okay, right?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Please, doctor, tell me he's going to be all right!"
Dr. Gamboa sighed. He wished he had better news. "I'm afraid his condition is critical. We've done everything we could. We've tried to make him comfortable. If there is anyone who should be notified, I suggest you do it now. I'm sorry, Ms. Geller, but Mr. Bing is not expected to make it through the night."
Monica sat in the last pew of the small, quiet chapel, allowing its warmth and the flames from the lit candles at the altar to comfort her. Daniel had gone back to the "Coral Sea", assuring her that he would take care of all the arrangements to have her things and Chandler's moved to the hotel the nurse in the Emergency Room had recommended.
From somewhere, maybe even in her own head, Monica heard soft, soothing music. She leaned back in the pew, closed her eyes, and let the memories flood her mind. She had to admit them into her consciousness. She'd said she wanted to heal, and yet she knew she'd never given herself a chance. She'd never given Chandler a chance either. Somehow, through sheer mental energy and willpower, she had to reach the man she loved, so he would know she was with him. She had to find a way to let him know what had happened before it was too late.
**Flashback - Late November 2000**
A totally dazed Monica walked into her apartment. She tried to hang her coat and purse on a hook and missed. And she didn't care. She bumped into one of the kitchen chairs and then finally collapsed onto it, almost falling to the floor when she didn't hit it just right.
"Mon, what's wrong?" Rachel asked, alarmed.
She'd never seen her friend so out of it. She knew Monica and Chandler had been arguing over the wedding plans and that's why she'd come by. She wanted to find out if things had gotten better. Judging by Monica's state, she could only assume they hadn't.
"Is Chandler here?" Monica asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No. I haven't seen him."
"Rach, I'm in big trouble. Big, big trouble. I can't believe this is happening."
"What, honey?" Rachel asked, sliding her chair next to her friend's and placing a hand on her arm. "You can't believe what's happening?"
Monica turned and stared at Rachel's concerned and interested face.
"I don't think I can tell you."
"Of course you can," Rachel admonished. "Monica, you can tell me anything."
"This is huge, Rach. Really huge. If I tell you, you can't tell anyone else. I mean absolutely no one else on this planet."
"I can do that." She gave her friend's arm a gentle squeeze. "Monica, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
"I just came from the doctor. I'm pregnant. My due date is right between the wedding and the honeymoon!"
Rachel's eyes grew huge and her hand flew to her mouth.
"I know," Monica said, without her usual exuberance. "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?!"
"Well...Mon...you're going to have the baby, of course. This is what you've dreamed of your entire life."
"But not like this!" she cried.
"Okay, things didn't go exactly according to plan, but still...you'll be married and then you'll have the baby. Or, if the baby's early, you'll already have given birth and then you'll marry the man who loves you with everything he is."
"I can't get married in May! This changes everything!"
"So, you don't have the wedding of your dreams, but Mon, think about it," Rachel said, a small smile forming on her lips, "you are going to have everything you've ever wanted. Marriage to the man you were meant to be with and a baby. C'mon, sweetie, it's not that bad."
Monica stared at her friend. "And you don't think Chandler is going to freak out about this...at all?!"
Rachel thought about it. "Oh, right, Chandler. Well, there's nothing he can do about it. He's the father. The life you're carrying inside is his responsibility. He has to marry you, Mon. He can't walk away from you and this baby."
"But what if he does? What if he thinks I did this on purpose? To trap him? I told you we've been arguing about the wedding and that he's been drinking more and coming home late a lot of nights. What if my being pregnant is the last straw? What if he hates me? What if he walks out that door and never comes back?"
"Honey, I don't think you're giving Chandler enough credit. Yeah, sure, he's gonna go all Chandler on you when you first tell him. You gotta expect that. But he loves you, Monica, and it's not like he said he never wanted children, right?"
"No, but still..."
"Mon, honey, you gotta tell him, and the sooner the better. Otherwise, you are going to drive yourself crazy needlessly. And that won't be good for you or the baby. This will all work out. It will. But you have to tell him."
"You're right," Monica said, trying to steady her emotions. "I have to talk to Chandler."
Rachel checked her watch. "He'll probably be home soon. I'm going to leave so you can tell him tonight. Please tell him tonight, Mon."
"I will," she assured her friend.
Just as soon as I figure out how, she added silently.
**
Late that night, Chandler finally arrived home.
"Hey, Mon," he said, strutting into their apartment as if he didn't have a care in the world.
He removed his coat and scarf and threw them carelessly over the back of the sofa.
"Where have you been?" Monica demanded, her nerves frazzled. "Do you realize what time it is? Do you know what a phone looks like and how to use it?!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take a chill pill, babe. We're not married yet."
Monica's gaze narrowed on her fiancé. "Have you been drinking? Again?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," Chandler said, plopping down on the couch next to Monica. "It's the holidays. Time for good tidings and all of that, right?"
"You don't have to go out with the guys from work every night. I would like to see you once in a while. When you're sober."
"Why?" he asked, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
Monica started to tell him to take his shoes off and then stopped. What was the point?
"So we can disagree some more about how to have the 'perfect wedding'?" he continued, his tone mocking. "Which, by the way, I want to talk to you about."
He pointed his index finger at Monica; she slapped it away.
"I'm not talking with you about anything tonight. I had something very important I needed to tell you, but you need to be sober to hear it. I'm going to bed. There's a plate of food for you in the fridge to heat up. Oh, and 'babe', since you look so comfortable on that couch, why don't you just plan to stay there...all night!"
**End of Flashback**
Monica opened her eyes and brushed away the burning tears. How had something so wonderful gone so wrong in such a short amount of time? And what if she never got the opportunity to fix it?
"Ms. Geller?"
Monica turned at the female voice and saw a nurse standing in the doorway.
"Dr. Gamboa would like a word with you."
"Of-of course."
Monica gathered her purse and followed the nurse, who looked to be a native of the island, down a long, stark-white, antiseptic-smelling corridor to the Operating Room waiting area. The nurse introduced her to the dark-haired, dark-eyed surgeon, who still wore his green scrubs, and then left them alone.
"How's Chandler?" she asked, her worried blue eyes trying to read his facial expression.
He looked grim. Monica's stomach muscles tightened. She found it difficult to breathe. Please tell me he's alive and that he's going to make it, she silently begged. Please.
"Mr. Bing came through the surgery but not without difficulty," Dr. Gamboa said.
"But he's okay, right?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Please, doctor, tell me he's going to be all right!"
Dr. Gamboa sighed. He wished he had better news. "I'm afraid his condition is critical. We've done everything we could. We've tried to make him comfortable. If there is anyone who should be notified, I suggest you do it now. I'm sorry, Ms. Geller, but Mr. Bing is not expected to make it through the night."