It was four days later, a Saturday, when Monica handed in her notice. She had to. The relationship between Gunther and herself had been strained ever since – well, just ever since. But it still wasn't easy. Monica loved her job. It was what she had wanted to do for all of her life, and she'd just thrown it all away.
When she arrived home, no one was there. Joey and Phoebe had taken all six kids out. Good. She could sit and muse on her failed career. Hmm. What was she going to do now?
She wrote a list. "Get another chef job". Well, that might be possible. There had to be more restaurants or cafes wanting chefs. She wasn't even asking to be head chef – just a regular chef. As long as it was a regular job, and it paid well, she'd do it. Ok, it might be hard to adjust to taking orders from other people, especially if they were younger than she was, or if they made crappy food, just like Rachel had done when they first met. She had absolutely hated Rachel's food – she laughed suddenly, remembering something.
Thirteen years ago, Monica, a six-month-old, physically able Kendra, and Phoebe had just moved into their new house. The baby had been fussy all day, the onset of the meningitis, Monica now realised. Rachel had come over and offered to bring a homemade meal for the three of them. Monica had believed that Ross had made the food, which was why she had agreed to Rachel's scheme.
"Hey Rach," Phoebe greeted her, eyeing the foil-covered dishes in Rachel's hands. "Yummy, what's that I see?"
Rachel smiled smugly. "Hmm… Well, in this dish, I have a rather lovely lamb casserole – that's for you, Mon, and for Ross and me. And here, I have vegetarian samosas, for Pheebs. And for baby, I have – baby goo. And she can have some of the casserole."
Monica looked in each dish. "Wow. Impressive, Rach." She took the dishes off her, and put them on the table. "Ross really has been working overtime, hey?"
"Ross?" Rachel repeated, hurt. "I made these all on my own-some."
Monica and Phoebe looked up. "You made them?"
Luckily, Rachel didn't notice the shock and fear in their voices. "Yeah. I'm really proud."
"Uh-heh," Phoebe murmured, uncomfortably.
Two hours later, they sat down to eat. Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Monica, and baby Kendra. Kendra was crying and fussing, and was being passed from Mama to Uncle Ross to Auntie Rachel to Auntie Phoebe without much success. When she was given some casserole, she began screaming.
"Kendra," Monica soothed her. "'S okay, baby. Don't worry, sweetheart."
Kendra had refused to be placated, and when Monica had gone to change her diaper twenty minutes later, there had been a bright red rash on her stomach. Meningitis had not been a very well publicised illness then, and Monica had no idea what it was.
As Monica tried to soothe her, the baby suddenly went limp and had what could only be described as a fit in her mother's arms. Monica, terrified, screamed for help.
"Ross! Phoebe! Rachel! Someone!" she shrieked. "I need help! Help me! Call 911, someone, do something!"
In a matter of an hour, Kendra was hooked up to a life-support machine, and was dangling between this life and the next. She was diagnosed with meningococal meningitis, and Monica was warned that even if the baby survived, there were large chances that she could be brain-damaged, blind, deaf, or paralysed.
Monica wasn't allowed to see her daughter for three hours, as doctors were battling to save the baby's life. She, Phoebe, Ross, and Rachel were all given injections of ceftriaxone to prevent them getting the disease.
It was almost a week before Kendra was given the all clear – that time. She had many trips back to the hospital, firstly with a heart problem, then breathing problems, and then when it was discovered that she had CP. Thankfully, her last major problem had been six years ago – a minor recurrence of meningitis. Now she was stronger than ever before.
Despite this, Monica would have given anything to have someone with her when Kendra was sick. Not just her friend, brother, and sister-in-law, but a husband, boyfriend, Kendra's father. And even if Kendra got sick now, Chandler would be a friend, and not Kendra's father.
Monica sighed. Why had she ever had a one-night stand in the first place?
Ugh. Next option.
"Waitressing". She sighed. It would be a huge step backwards for her. She had been a waitress when she was pregnant. At a small coffeehouse named Central Perk, near to her old apartment. It was where she had met Gunther, where she had been spring-boarded up to being a chef. Gunther had done loads for her. He hadn't discriminated against her just 'cause she was a single mom with a physically disabled child. Great. And now she was thinking about Gunther again. But it was hard not to. In the past, before she had been able to confide in Phoebe so much, Gunther had been her confidante. She had known him for years. It was sad to think of the friendship going down the drain.
Next.
"Train as something else."
Oh. Specific. Well, what could she train as? Nurse? She had a lot of experience of coping with illness, certainly. She'd handled every problem that Kendra had had, and had been through it all with Ben, Emily, and Julia, as well. Rachel and Ross panicked easily about illness, and Mon was their only hope. When Julia had been two weeks old, Ben and Emily had gotten chicken pox. Monica smiled at the memory. Rachel had been hysterical. She had been terrified that the new baby would get sick. Monica had done a "switch" with her – Rachel had taken Julia and moved in with Kendra (because, with her cp, she could have gotten seriously ill if she had contracted chicken pox) and Phoebe, who had never had it, and Monica had helped Ross with the scratchy siblings.
Ok, so nursing was an option. But, would she be able to handle it if she had to care for dying people? If someone actually died while she was taking care of him or her, what would she do? Especially if the person was a child, or a baby?
She could teach, perhaps. When Kendra had been little, she had not wanted to send her to a special school, so she had home-schooled her until she was nine. And Kendra was clever now. Advanced, that's what they called it. And that was as a result of having good teaching as a small child. But teaching was hard graft. And parents seemed so eager to get teachers to pay for anything that went wrong. No. Teaching wasn't for Monica.
What other skills did she have? She could be a child-minder – one of those babysitters that have children all day. That was an idea. She had to look after Shawn, Kendra, and Alice every day before and after school anyhow. And, on Wednesdays and Fridays, she took care of Ben, Emily, and Julia as well. But how did one start a task such as that?
As she was musing over this, the kitchen door burst open, and Alice, Ben, Emily, Julia, Shawn, and Kendra clattered in, followed by Phoebe and Joey.
"Quiet, aren't you?" Monica muttered, hiding her list away. "Hi!" she said, louder.
"Hey, Mom," Kendra shrieked. The rest seemed similarly hyped up.
"Where did you go?" asked Monica, as Julia came and hugged her aunt hard. "Did you get these kids drunk, Phoebe?"
"We ain't drunk, Monica," Alice laughed.
"You sure as hell aren't sober, Ally," Monica replied.
"We are," Joey protested. "We just went to a theme park and McDonalds and Central Park, and then we thought they looked a bit tired, so we took them for black coffee at Starbucks, and then we took them swimming."
"And you say just," Rachel quipped, coming into the kitchen. "Julie-pie, Emma, Benny, we've got to go, babies."
"Aw, Mom!" Emily whined.
"Aw, Em!" Rachel mimicked her. "Sorry, babies. Grammy Sandra's coming round."
"Aw," Ben moaned. "Can't I stay here? Grammy doesn't like me! And I don't like her," he added as an afterthought.
"Benjamin." Rachel's voice held a warning tone.
"Ok, ok," Ben sighed.
"Joe? You coming?" asked Rachel.
"Nah. I'm gonna stay with Pheebs." Joey smirked, and put an arm around his girlfriend. Joey and Phoebe had been on several dates, and were officially an 'item' now.
"Ok. See you, guys," Rachel said, smiling. She left with her children.
"Guys, guys!" Chandler came rushing into the kitchen, looking agitated.
"Hey, sweetie," Monica greeted him, sarcastically.
"Hi, Mon," he replied, not noticing her sarcasm. "You have got to help me."
"Whassa matter, Daddy?" asked Shawn. He was finally getting over his extreme shyness, and was even speaking around other people now.
"Yeah, Dad," added Alice.
"Don't worry, you two. Why don't you and Kendra go play in the garden or something?"
"It's bucketing," Alice replied, giving him a withering look. She was right – it was raining hard.
"Oh." Chandler looked around for inspiration. "Well, ah, go play in the sitting room or something."
"Ok," Kendra agreed.
"What's up, man?" Joey asked, as the kids left.
"I just saw my mother," Chandler answered, simply.
Monica, Phoebe, and Joey heard this statement in bewildered silence. Monica, characteristically, was the first to speak. "Your mother? How? When?"
Chandler took a deep breath. "She was doing a book signing. I passed by on my way home from work. She noticed me. We, ah, we got to talking."
He sighed as he remembered his mother's excitement.
"Chandler?" she had gasped, incredulously. "Chandler?"
He had known her instantly, of course. Nora Tyler is not inconspicuous. "Mom," he'd said, flatly. "How are ya?"
"Chandler," she'd whispered, again. "My God, why didn't you tell me you were in New York? I thought you were still in England, baby! How's the wife, the kids? How many did you have, three, was it?"
"Two."
"Oh, where are you staying?" she continued. "Are you living here, now, baby? The wife too?"
"No… I'm, ah, living with my best friend's sister."
Nora had given her son a strange look. "Oh – adultery? How… unlike you."
"No, not adultery!" Chandler said, a little bit annoyed. "I, uh, Mary Angela – my wife – died, about a year ago. I moved in with Mon because it was the easiest thing to do. I wanted to make a clean break, get Ally and Shawn away from England."
"Ally and Shawn?"
"My kids. Alice is thirteen, turns fourteen in a couple days, and Shawn's six. Cute pair, really."
There was an awkward silence.
"So, when do I get to meet these cuties?" Nora demanded, after a moment.
"Oh! Ah, uh, I don't know," Chandler stalled. He loved the kids, and didn't really want them polluted by their romance-novel-writing, mini-skirt-wearing granny.
"Well, I'm free tonight, Chandler. You?"
"Uh… I guess. I'd have to check with Monica, though," he replied. Why couldn't he think of anything that he was doing? Why why why?
"Well, here's my cell," she said, scrawling a number on a piece of paper. "Ask your friend and then ring me."
"Yeah. Ok," he agreed. "I guess my children should know their nana." My three children, he added mentally. No. No. Forget that.
"Great. I'll be waiting," Nora said, smiling and waving her phone, playfully.
"Sure thing." He was about to leave, but thought of something. "Ah… Mom? Can you, ah, wear something—?"
"A little more suitable?" Nora finished. "It's like you're a kid again at graduation!"
"Hey, that was not funny," he insisted. "You ended up being the bleachers, making out with Andy Dawes, Mom! He was sixteen."
Nora laughed. "Boy, that kid was fun." On Chandler's glare, she subsided. "Right. I'll wear jeans and a T. That ok with you?"
"Perfect," he replied. "I'll call you, then."
They parted ways.
"Oh, Chandler!" Phoebe cried, upon hearing this. "What are you gonna do?"
"Well, I'm gonna call her… I guess. What else can I do?"
"You want us to be here, man?" Joey asked.
Chandler shook his head. "Don't feel you gotta stay in for me or anything. If you have plans, then go out. If not, well, then please God, stay."
"I'm free," Monica spoke up.
"Sorry," Phoebe said. "I'm going to Frank's to see the triplets."
"Triplets?" Joey repeated.
"Yeah, the babies I had for my brother," Phoebe replied, matter-of-factly.
"Oh," Joey said, nodding.
Chandler looked at Monica, and mouthed 'What the hell…?' She smiled, and mouthed 'Surrogacy' back. He nodded.
"Joe?" Monica asked. "You doing anything?"
"Sorry man," Joey replied. "I, ah, my play's on tonight. Boxing Day, you know?"
"Oh, right," Chandler said. "Yeah, good luck with that."
"I'm on at six," Joey continued.
"Joe?" Chandler said. "It's five now."
"You're kidding?" Joey asked, checking his watch. "Damnit! I gotta go, see ya!"
As he ran out, Phoebe got up. "I guess I'll head off to Frank and Alice's. God, it's been a couple of months since I saw those babies. They're so sweet – Frank and Lesley and little Rosie-Lee. You see, Chandler, they were gonna call her Ross Leo, like our Ross, but then, well, she turned out to be a girl, so she got called Rosie-Lee."
"Great," Chandler replied, deadpan. "See ya Pheebs," he added, as Phoebe left.
"Seems like it's you and me, then, Bing," Monica quipped.
"Yep, sure does, Geller," he countered. "I'm gonna ring my mom."
"Here, use this phone," Monica advised, handing him a cordless phone.
He dialled. "Hey Mom … yeah, we're free … Couple hours? … Yeah, sure … those clothes sound great, Mom … Thanks … Ok, see ya … Yep. Bye!" He hung up.
"Wow, you're not that wordy with her, are ya?" Monica joked.
"Nope."
"And the non-wordiness continues," she laughed.
"Sure does." He paused. "I'd better go tell the kids." He left, but returned less than a minute later. "They've got our daughter sitting on the floor, and they're trying to get her to move her legs," he informed her.
She smiled – he'd said 'our daughter'. "Oh, Kendra gets in one of her 'phases' every now and then. She'll be confident that she can move her legs if she tries."
"Does it ever work?" he asked, curious. After all, Kendra was his daughter.
"Not really," she replied, sighing. Then, feeling that the subject might get too maudlin, changed topics. "So, you are looking forward to seeing your mom?"
"I guess." He hesitated, looking very vulnerable all of a sudden. "I mean, that's why I came here, isn't it? To find her. But then, well, I had a lousy childhood, Mon, and I've never been close to her…" He trailed off.
She hugged him. "I know, sweetie. I know. I've never been close to my mom either. But it's something you learn to deal with."
He smiled, and returned the hug. "Thanks, Monica."
"For what?"
"For being there," he replied, and, on impulse, kissed her. On the lips, but not so much of a sexual thing. More of a 'friendly' thing – but with a hint of tenderness that isn't always there with friends.
"What was that for?"
"For being you," he answered.
She smiled impishly. "Well, in that case…" And she kissed him – but this time, it wasn't a friendly thing. When she broke away, she explained herself. "And that's for being you."
"I think I like being me," he said, grinning.
"Well, if you're you for a little while longer, you might get some more," she smirked.
"Ok… but you'll have to answer to Ally. She wasn't mighty pleased about Lane, and I doubt she'd be thrilled if it were you, Mon." He knew he was moving too fast. He was insinuating a full-fledged relationship here.
"I'll answer to her," Monica replied, understanding his insinuation. "I mean, if I can't handle Ally, I can't handle anyone, can I?"
Chandler's heart beat in happiness. But, instead of saying anything else, he simply replied, "Have I been me for long enough yet?"
She looked at him, tantalisingly. "Hmm… I guess."
"So do I get some more?"
"Oh, you get way more."