Chapter 3
Monica arrived at her brother's room early the next morning. Disappointment momentarily surfaced when she realized Chandler was not there, but Ross' words snapped her back to reality.
"I want to know what is so important that you lied to Mom and Dad about where you would be this weekend."
"Okay," Monica said, finding herself sitting on Chandler's bed when Ross took a seat on his own. "I came here to ask for your help."
"With what?" he asked, his dark gaze narrowing.
"Ross, I don't want to go to college next year. I want to go to a culinary school. Maybe even in California. Will you help me convince Mom and Dad? Please?"
"A culinary...a culinary school?! Monica, do you really think you could be a professional chef?"
"Yes! Everyone loves my cooking, well, except for Mom, and that's just because she knows I'm succeeding at something, and she can't stand it. I don't want to go to a four-year college or even a two-year college and learn boring things I'll never use. I want to go with my interest. I want to get started on my career."
"Have you mentioned this to them?"
"Some," Monica hedged. "I've tried telling them that going to a traditional college is probably not something I want to do. Dad looked stricken and Mom refused to talk about it."
"They probably thought you meant you weren't going to school at all after graduation. Did you mention the chef part?"
"They wouldn't let me finish, Ross. They cut me off like they always do. I expected Dad to pat me on the head and send me to my room. They only listen to you, Ross. That's why I need your help."
Ross heard the passion in his sister's voice. "This is something you really want to do? I mean, you've given the whole idea a lot of serious thought? It's not just some...some whim? You really want to pursue this?"
"Yes!"
"Why...why California?"
"San Francisco has an excellent culinary school. It's not the only one, and I won't die if I don't get to go there, but it's an option I want to pursue. Let's face it, Ross," Monica said, deciding to reveal more of her true feelings, "I think it would be good for me to get a fresh start somewhere new after I graduate. I know you don't like me to say it, but things aren't the greatest at home. I haven't exactly been the daughter Mom and Dad were hoping for, you know?"
"Monica, that's not true. Mom and Dad love you. You know they do."
"Yeah," she said, giving him a sad smile. "I know they love me. I just don't think they always like me. But that's okay because I'm not always sure I like myself."
Ross reached for his sister's hands. "Don't ever say that. You are a good person, Mon. I know we've had our differences, but I would never let anyone hurt you."
"I know. You did a pretty good job when you were home, but you're not there anymore. I have to learn to fend for myself. Losing weight and planning my future are two of the ways I want to take control of my life. Finally."
"You...you're serious about wanting to lose weight?"
"Yeah," Monica said and gave him a shy smile. "I've been trying, off and on, but this weekend is proving to me that I can do things on my own. I need Mom and Dad's support, but I know I'm the one who has to be dedicated about losing weight. I'm going to do it, Ross. I am."
Since this was the first time he'd heard his sister talk so seriously about wanting to lose weight, Ross had to make certain Monica was doing it for the right reasons. "Monica, please don't get upset with me, but I have to ask you something."
"Okay."
"This business about losing weight. It's not because of Chandler, is it?"
Monica pulled her hands away from her brother's. "No! Why would you ask me that? What does Chandler have to do with any of this?"
"I'm sorry, but the...the timing of all this has me just a wee bit suspicious. Monica, Chandler and I are in college. We're around a lot of women all the time. You're a senior in high school. High school! Yeah, I know Chandler treated you well yesterday, but that doesn't mean he's interested in you, and I don't want you going home thinking he is. That's not the reason to lose weight, okay?"
"I know who and what I am, Ross. I'm not doing any of this because of Chandler, okay? I'm doing it for me. Me! Thanks so much for all your damn support!"
An outraged Monica marched towards the door. Ross reached for his sister's arm and turned her to face him.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice contrite. "I just...I had to know because I don't...I don't want you to get hurt. And I'm sorry, Monica, but Chandler would only hurt you."
"I wouldn't let him," she said, her voice small but confident. "I know you're thinking about you and Rachel, but this is not the same. I like Chandler. In fact, I'm going to the football game with him tonight at his invitation. But I'm not going to let anything happen that would cause me any regrets. I just want to have a good time with a nice guy. That's all."
*~*
Later that afternoon, Monica found a pay phone and, using her calling card, decided she'd better check in with Rachel.
"I was hoping you'd call," Rachel said, upon hearing her friend's voice.
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"No. Everything's cool. I just wanted to know how it's going. Did you tell Ross what you want to do?"
"Yeah, I did."
"How come you sound so discouraged? Won't Ross help you?"
"I'm not sure," Monica admitted and bit her lower lip. "Our conversation got off track."
"Why?"
"Because my brother is worried I'm going to do something stupid."
"Monica, what are you talking about?"
She sighed and then decided to confide in Rachel. "I've been spending time with Ross' roommate, Chandler, and Ross doesn't like it."
"Really?" Rachel asked, intrigued. "Tell me more."
"Rachel! He's just a nice guy who took me to dinner last night. That's all."
"Then why is Ross worried?" Rachel challenged.
"Well," Monica said, unable to keep the smile from her voice, "because we're also going to a football game tonight."
"Wow, Monica, good for you!"
"But nothing's gonna happen, Rach. I won't let it. I know Chandler is out of my league. But it is nice to have a guy, especially a college guy, paying attention to me. I think I kinda know how you feel now."
"Oh, Monica, you know the guys around here are jerks. I've told you that before. Just have fun. Okay?"
"Okay. I will."
"Don't worry about what your brother thinks, and don't worry about anything here. I got you covered, all right?"
"Thanks. I owe you so much, Rach."
"I wanna hear everything that happened when you get back. Enjoy!"
*~*
Deciding she'd better get ready to meet Chandler, Monica headed for Carol's dorm room in a fairly good mood. But what she overheard as she approached the open door sank her spirits.
"I can't believe Chandler allowed himself to be seen with her. What was he thinking? He knows you like him. Why would he waste his time with the likes of her?"
Monica recognized the voice. It belonged to the waitress from the diner. What was her name again? Laurie, she remembered with disdain. Monica didn't have to enter the room to know who Laurie was talking to. It had to be Brenda.
"I don't know," Brenda said. "It disgusts me to think of him spending time with that loser. Can you believe he's taking her to the football game tonight? The football game! She's going to totally humiliate him. Like he needs more of that! But apparently it was his idea, so I say he deserves whatever he gets."
"I think Ross must be paying him to entertain her this weekend. That's the only thing that makes any sense to me."
"Honey, you couldn't pay me enough to be seen in public with her."
Monica heard their spiteful laughter, and with tears rolling silently down her cheeks, she raced down the corridor to escape their cruel words. Unable to clearly see where she was going, she rammed right into Chandler.
"Monica, what's wrong?!"
"Nothing. Get out of my way!"
"You're crying. Did Ross upset you again? What's going on? Tell me. I want to know."
Having heard no signs of teasing in his tone and not sensing that he was mocking her, she took a chance and looked at him. The concern on his face would have melted the ice forming around her heart if she'd let it, but she had to have some way to protect herself. Was he someone she could truly trust? She didn't know, and she realized she didn't want to stick around to find out.
"I just...I shouldn't have come here this weekend. I made a big mistake."
"Why?"
"Because I don't belong here," she said, her voice conveying how miserable she now felt. Why did she always let people and their insensitive remarks affect her so negatively? Because she believed them. When she heard someone talking badly about her, it just reinforced the way she envisioned herself. "I don't belong anywhere."
"Come with me," Chandler said, holding out his hand for her to take.
She hesitated a moment and then clasped her hand in his.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he led her outside.
"I want us to go for a walk away from the immediate area. Is that okay?"
"Yes."
She found she did trust him. At least enough to walk with him in the cool, crisp autumn afternoon. They walked in a companionable silence for about twenty minutes. Chandler stopped, and so did Monica, when they reached an almost private hillside surrounded by trees that displayed their fall foliage with pride.
"Chandler, this place is awesome."
"I know," he said and smiled. "I discovered it my first week here. It's getting more breathtaking now that the leaves are changing colors. I come here when I want to get away from everybody and everything. Sit down."
They sat side by side with their backs against one of the bigger tree trunks.
"Do you want to get away from everybody and everything often?" Monica asked, sincerely wanting to know.
"Often enough," Chandler answered. "When I was growing up, I lived in a house with a lot of yelling and fighting. I would either have to scream louder than my parents for them to realize they were upsetting me or I would have to leave the house if I wanted any peace. Now, when the world is too noisy for me, I have to take refuge. I need silence."
"Your childhood situation sounds horrible."
"Believe me, it was. There's more I could tell you, but suffice it to say, I know, all too well, about not feeling like you belong anywhere. I know it's scary. Alarm bells went off in my head when I heard you utter those words."
"I didn't mean to say them out loud," Monica said. "I try to keep those kinds of thoughts to myself."
"But that's not good either. The people who care about you should know how you're feeling."
"Is that what you did?"
"No," Chandler admitted. "But I know it's what you should do, Monica. You have your whole life ahead of you."
"So do you."
Chandler shrugged. "I'm just trying to survive. I see potential in you, Monica. I think you're smart and caring and have a lot to offer. But I also see that you're hurting and that you've been hurt. I know what that's like. I didn't really have anyone to talk to when I was going through my stuff. I guess what I want to tell you, Monica, is that if you ever need or want to talk, I'd like to be there for you."
"And who's there for you?" Monica couldn't help but ask.
Chandler looked away. "It doesn't matter. I have my way of expressing what I'm feeling."
"To someone?" Monica pressed.
"Not exactly," Chandler said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "I write. That's my release."
"You mean like a journal?"
"Sort of."
"I do that, too," Monica said, pleased they had something else in common. Hearing him say that eased her tension. "It's easier to write."
"Yeah, it is," Chandler agreed. "But it also helps to talk."
"When we can't talk to each other," Monica said, hesitating at what she was about to say, "maybe we could write."
"You can write to me any time," Chandler said.
"If I'm going to let you be there for me, then I want to be there for you."
"Me?" Chandler said, shaking his head as if to ward off Monica's offer. "I've already been through my war. I'm okay."
"I don't think you are," she said, not unkindly. "You wouldn't be so in tune with what's going on with me if you were in a completely different place. If I'm going to share my horrors, you have to share yours."
"I'll try," Chandler said, not wanting to lose the possibility of helping Monica. Concern had gripped him when she'd said she felt she didn't belong anywhere. He knew the thoughts he'd entertained when he'd silently spoken those same words. "But I'm not promising anything."
"Then neither am I," Monica said stubbornly.
She looked so petulant and adamant that Chandler couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" she asked. "Why are you laughing?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that Ross has told me a few stories about when the two of you were growing up, and after seeing that look on your face, I believe him when he said you can be forceful when you want to be."
"That's not a bad thing," she defended.
"No, it's not. I think you're adorable."
"You do not!" Monica said, trying furiously not to blush.
She'd been called many things in her eighteen years, but never adorable. At least not in the past few years.
Chandler didn't know what had possessed him to compliment her that way, but now that he'd spoken the words, he realized he did think she was adorable. Very adorable.
"Yes, Monica," Chandler said, moving closer to her and affirming his earlier words. "I really do."
Her blue eyes locked on his, and she knew, without a doubt, he was going to kiss her. Joy was quickly replaced by panic. He would know. The second his lips touched hers, he would know that she had never been kissed. She didn't know how to kiss. Why was he torturing her this way? Didn't he realize girls who looked like her were not kissed by boys? Her mind screamed for her to flee, but instead, she found herself meeting him halfway, her lips slightly parted.
He sensed her nervousness but he also saw that she wanted to kiss him, too. Encouraged that she hadn't fled, he lowered his mouth to hers and captured her full red lips in a tender kiss that soon turned serious.
Monica closed her eyes, wanting to savor every moment of her first kiss. She tried to think of what Rachel had told her to do if she was ever kissed, but all thoughts flew out of her mind when she felt Chandler's cool palms framing her face as he deepened the kiss. She reached for his hair and began to run her fingers through it as she continued to experience the wonder of her lips touching his.
When the kiss finally ended, Monica slowly opened her eyes, praying she wouldn't see regret or repulsion on Chandler's face. She saw neither. He was smiling at her; her heart soared.
"You're a great kisser," she said, even though she had nothing to compare it to.
"So are you," he said, trailing his index finger along her cheek.
She could only hope the words he'd spoken were true because she definitely wanted to feel his lips on hers again. Soon.
Monica arrived at her brother's room early the next morning. Disappointment momentarily surfaced when she realized Chandler was not there, but Ross' words snapped her back to reality.
"I want to know what is so important that you lied to Mom and Dad about where you would be this weekend."
"Okay," Monica said, finding herself sitting on Chandler's bed when Ross took a seat on his own. "I came here to ask for your help."
"With what?" he asked, his dark gaze narrowing.
"Ross, I don't want to go to college next year. I want to go to a culinary school. Maybe even in California. Will you help me convince Mom and Dad? Please?"
"A culinary...a culinary school?! Monica, do you really think you could be a professional chef?"
"Yes! Everyone loves my cooking, well, except for Mom, and that's just because she knows I'm succeeding at something, and she can't stand it. I don't want to go to a four-year college or even a two-year college and learn boring things I'll never use. I want to go with my interest. I want to get started on my career."
"Have you mentioned this to them?"
"Some," Monica hedged. "I've tried telling them that going to a traditional college is probably not something I want to do. Dad looked stricken and Mom refused to talk about it."
"They probably thought you meant you weren't going to school at all after graduation. Did you mention the chef part?"
"They wouldn't let me finish, Ross. They cut me off like they always do. I expected Dad to pat me on the head and send me to my room. They only listen to you, Ross. That's why I need your help."
Ross heard the passion in his sister's voice. "This is something you really want to do? I mean, you've given the whole idea a lot of serious thought? It's not just some...some whim? You really want to pursue this?"
"Yes!"
"Why...why California?"
"San Francisco has an excellent culinary school. It's not the only one, and I won't die if I don't get to go there, but it's an option I want to pursue. Let's face it, Ross," Monica said, deciding to reveal more of her true feelings, "I think it would be good for me to get a fresh start somewhere new after I graduate. I know you don't like me to say it, but things aren't the greatest at home. I haven't exactly been the daughter Mom and Dad were hoping for, you know?"
"Monica, that's not true. Mom and Dad love you. You know they do."
"Yeah," she said, giving him a sad smile. "I know they love me. I just don't think they always like me. But that's okay because I'm not always sure I like myself."
Ross reached for his sister's hands. "Don't ever say that. You are a good person, Mon. I know we've had our differences, but I would never let anyone hurt you."
"I know. You did a pretty good job when you were home, but you're not there anymore. I have to learn to fend for myself. Losing weight and planning my future are two of the ways I want to take control of my life. Finally."
"You...you're serious about wanting to lose weight?"
"Yeah," Monica said and gave him a shy smile. "I've been trying, off and on, but this weekend is proving to me that I can do things on my own. I need Mom and Dad's support, but I know I'm the one who has to be dedicated about losing weight. I'm going to do it, Ross. I am."
Since this was the first time he'd heard his sister talk so seriously about wanting to lose weight, Ross had to make certain Monica was doing it for the right reasons. "Monica, please don't get upset with me, but I have to ask you something."
"Okay."
"This business about losing weight. It's not because of Chandler, is it?"
Monica pulled her hands away from her brother's. "No! Why would you ask me that? What does Chandler have to do with any of this?"
"I'm sorry, but the...the timing of all this has me just a wee bit suspicious. Monica, Chandler and I are in college. We're around a lot of women all the time. You're a senior in high school. High school! Yeah, I know Chandler treated you well yesterday, but that doesn't mean he's interested in you, and I don't want you going home thinking he is. That's not the reason to lose weight, okay?"
"I know who and what I am, Ross. I'm not doing any of this because of Chandler, okay? I'm doing it for me. Me! Thanks so much for all your damn support!"
An outraged Monica marched towards the door. Ross reached for his sister's arm and turned her to face him.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice contrite. "I just...I had to know because I don't...I don't want you to get hurt. And I'm sorry, Monica, but Chandler would only hurt you."
"I wouldn't let him," she said, her voice small but confident. "I know you're thinking about you and Rachel, but this is not the same. I like Chandler. In fact, I'm going to the football game with him tonight at his invitation. But I'm not going to let anything happen that would cause me any regrets. I just want to have a good time with a nice guy. That's all."
*~*
Later that afternoon, Monica found a pay phone and, using her calling card, decided she'd better check in with Rachel.
"I was hoping you'd call," Rachel said, upon hearing her friend's voice.
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"No. Everything's cool. I just wanted to know how it's going. Did you tell Ross what you want to do?"
"Yeah, I did."
"How come you sound so discouraged? Won't Ross help you?"
"I'm not sure," Monica admitted and bit her lower lip. "Our conversation got off track."
"Why?"
"Because my brother is worried I'm going to do something stupid."
"Monica, what are you talking about?"
She sighed and then decided to confide in Rachel. "I've been spending time with Ross' roommate, Chandler, and Ross doesn't like it."
"Really?" Rachel asked, intrigued. "Tell me more."
"Rachel! He's just a nice guy who took me to dinner last night. That's all."
"Then why is Ross worried?" Rachel challenged.
"Well," Monica said, unable to keep the smile from her voice, "because we're also going to a football game tonight."
"Wow, Monica, good for you!"
"But nothing's gonna happen, Rach. I won't let it. I know Chandler is out of my league. But it is nice to have a guy, especially a college guy, paying attention to me. I think I kinda know how you feel now."
"Oh, Monica, you know the guys around here are jerks. I've told you that before. Just have fun. Okay?"
"Okay. I will."
"Don't worry about what your brother thinks, and don't worry about anything here. I got you covered, all right?"
"Thanks. I owe you so much, Rach."
"I wanna hear everything that happened when you get back. Enjoy!"
*~*
Deciding she'd better get ready to meet Chandler, Monica headed for Carol's dorm room in a fairly good mood. But what she overheard as she approached the open door sank her spirits.
"I can't believe Chandler allowed himself to be seen with her. What was he thinking? He knows you like him. Why would he waste his time with the likes of her?"
Monica recognized the voice. It belonged to the waitress from the diner. What was her name again? Laurie, she remembered with disdain. Monica didn't have to enter the room to know who Laurie was talking to. It had to be Brenda.
"I don't know," Brenda said. "It disgusts me to think of him spending time with that loser. Can you believe he's taking her to the football game tonight? The football game! She's going to totally humiliate him. Like he needs more of that! But apparently it was his idea, so I say he deserves whatever he gets."
"I think Ross must be paying him to entertain her this weekend. That's the only thing that makes any sense to me."
"Honey, you couldn't pay me enough to be seen in public with her."
Monica heard their spiteful laughter, and with tears rolling silently down her cheeks, she raced down the corridor to escape their cruel words. Unable to clearly see where she was going, she rammed right into Chandler.
"Monica, what's wrong?!"
"Nothing. Get out of my way!"
"You're crying. Did Ross upset you again? What's going on? Tell me. I want to know."
Having heard no signs of teasing in his tone and not sensing that he was mocking her, she took a chance and looked at him. The concern on his face would have melted the ice forming around her heart if she'd let it, but she had to have some way to protect herself. Was he someone she could truly trust? She didn't know, and she realized she didn't want to stick around to find out.
"I just...I shouldn't have come here this weekend. I made a big mistake."
"Why?"
"Because I don't belong here," she said, her voice conveying how miserable she now felt. Why did she always let people and their insensitive remarks affect her so negatively? Because she believed them. When she heard someone talking badly about her, it just reinforced the way she envisioned herself. "I don't belong anywhere."
"Come with me," Chandler said, holding out his hand for her to take.
She hesitated a moment and then clasped her hand in his.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he led her outside.
"I want us to go for a walk away from the immediate area. Is that okay?"
"Yes."
She found she did trust him. At least enough to walk with him in the cool, crisp autumn afternoon. They walked in a companionable silence for about twenty minutes. Chandler stopped, and so did Monica, when they reached an almost private hillside surrounded by trees that displayed their fall foliage with pride.
"Chandler, this place is awesome."
"I know," he said and smiled. "I discovered it my first week here. It's getting more breathtaking now that the leaves are changing colors. I come here when I want to get away from everybody and everything. Sit down."
They sat side by side with their backs against one of the bigger tree trunks.
"Do you want to get away from everybody and everything often?" Monica asked, sincerely wanting to know.
"Often enough," Chandler answered. "When I was growing up, I lived in a house with a lot of yelling and fighting. I would either have to scream louder than my parents for them to realize they were upsetting me or I would have to leave the house if I wanted any peace. Now, when the world is too noisy for me, I have to take refuge. I need silence."
"Your childhood situation sounds horrible."
"Believe me, it was. There's more I could tell you, but suffice it to say, I know, all too well, about not feeling like you belong anywhere. I know it's scary. Alarm bells went off in my head when I heard you utter those words."
"I didn't mean to say them out loud," Monica said. "I try to keep those kinds of thoughts to myself."
"But that's not good either. The people who care about you should know how you're feeling."
"Is that what you did?"
"No," Chandler admitted. "But I know it's what you should do, Monica. You have your whole life ahead of you."
"So do you."
Chandler shrugged. "I'm just trying to survive. I see potential in you, Monica. I think you're smart and caring and have a lot to offer. But I also see that you're hurting and that you've been hurt. I know what that's like. I didn't really have anyone to talk to when I was going through my stuff. I guess what I want to tell you, Monica, is that if you ever need or want to talk, I'd like to be there for you."
"And who's there for you?" Monica couldn't help but ask.
Chandler looked away. "It doesn't matter. I have my way of expressing what I'm feeling."
"To someone?" Monica pressed.
"Not exactly," Chandler said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "I write. That's my release."
"You mean like a journal?"
"Sort of."
"I do that, too," Monica said, pleased they had something else in common. Hearing him say that eased her tension. "It's easier to write."
"Yeah, it is," Chandler agreed. "But it also helps to talk."
"When we can't talk to each other," Monica said, hesitating at what she was about to say, "maybe we could write."
"You can write to me any time," Chandler said.
"If I'm going to let you be there for me, then I want to be there for you."
"Me?" Chandler said, shaking his head as if to ward off Monica's offer. "I've already been through my war. I'm okay."
"I don't think you are," she said, not unkindly. "You wouldn't be so in tune with what's going on with me if you were in a completely different place. If I'm going to share my horrors, you have to share yours."
"I'll try," Chandler said, not wanting to lose the possibility of helping Monica. Concern had gripped him when she'd said she felt she didn't belong anywhere. He knew the thoughts he'd entertained when he'd silently spoken those same words. "But I'm not promising anything."
"Then neither am I," Monica said stubbornly.
She looked so petulant and adamant that Chandler couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" she asked. "Why are you laughing?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that Ross has told me a few stories about when the two of you were growing up, and after seeing that look on your face, I believe him when he said you can be forceful when you want to be."
"That's not a bad thing," she defended.
"No, it's not. I think you're adorable."
"You do not!" Monica said, trying furiously not to blush.
She'd been called many things in her eighteen years, but never adorable. At least not in the past few years.
Chandler didn't know what had possessed him to compliment her that way, but now that he'd spoken the words, he realized he did think she was adorable. Very adorable.
"Yes, Monica," Chandler said, moving closer to her and affirming his earlier words. "I really do."
Her blue eyes locked on his, and she knew, without a doubt, he was going to kiss her. Joy was quickly replaced by panic. He would know. The second his lips touched hers, he would know that she had never been kissed. She didn't know how to kiss. Why was he torturing her this way? Didn't he realize girls who looked like her were not kissed by boys? Her mind screamed for her to flee, but instead, she found herself meeting him halfway, her lips slightly parted.
He sensed her nervousness but he also saw that she wanted to kiss him, too. Encouraged that she hadn't fled, he lowered his mouth to hers and captured her full red lips in a tender kiss that soon turned serious.
Monica closed her eyes, wanting to savor every moment of her first kiss. She tried to think of what Rachel had told her to do if she was ever kissed, but all thoughts flew out of her mind when she felt Chandler's cool palms framing her face as he deepened the kiss. She reached for his hair and began to run her fingers through it as she continued to experience the wonder of her lips touching his.
When the kiss finally ended, Monica slowly opened her eyes, praying she wouldn't see regret or repulsion on Chandler's face. She saw neither. He was smiling at her; her heart soared.
"You're a great kisser," she said, even though she had nothing to compare it to.
"So are you," he said, trailing his index finger along her cheek.
She could only hope the words he'd spoken were true because she definitely wanted to feel his lips on hers again. Soon.