Disclaimer: I don't own them. Any of them. Yet, that is. But someday I'm hoping for a big box under the Christmas tree—containing Matthew Perry.
Copyright 2002 MusicCityDiva
Chandler: The Way Memories Linger
Three years. At this crucial moment, that was the only thought running through Chandler's head. He knew it was absurd. He should be standing by now, hugging his best friend, the college roommate he hadn't seen since his days at NYU or even turning on the charm for the girl who was even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her. But he couldn't move. Instead, he sat in the midst of a pile of clothes that carried the enticing scent of the woman next to him thinking that it had been THREE YEARS since he'd last seen either of them.
The sound of his name finally snapped him back to reality. Chandler glanced at Monica to see if she was the one who had spoken, but it was Ross that was hovering over them, reaching out a hand to help Chandler up. Still slightly dazed, Chandler took the offered hand and returned the hearty hug he was pulled into.
"Chandler! My man! You live here? How are you, roomie?" Ross exclaimed, giving Chandler a friendly punch in the arm.
Chandler winced, noting that a bruise was all ready forming where his elbow had hit the door frame as he—they—fell.
"I'm great, Ross. Yeah, I live right here, actually," Chandler said, gesturing toward the still-open door of his apartment. "What are you doing here? Are you and…um…" Chandler struggled to remember the name of Ross' wife. He had been in the wedding, for heaven's sake…what was her name? "um…Karen…"
"Carol," Ross corrected. "Her name is Carol."
"Carol," Chandler repeated. "Are you and Carol moving in here?"
Ross shook his head. "No, Carol and I live a few blocks away. Actually, Monica is.…" he stopped abruptly, glancing around for his sister.
It was then that Chandler realized Monica was still sitting on the floor, looking slightly irritated that the two guys seemed to have forgotten her. Chandler offered his hand to help her to her feet, and after a moment's hesitation, Monica took it, slipping her small, soft hand into his sturdy one.
The feeling of her hand surprised Chandler even more than he'd expected. He hadn't thought about Monica in years, but with her here in front of him, his thoughts were consumed with nothing else.
The moment evaporated when Ross pointedly cleared his throat. Chandler followed Ross' stare to where Monica's hand was still grasped firmly in his own, even though she was now back on her feet. Not that Monica seemed to be pulling away very quickly. Judging by the look on her face, she was experiencing the same feelings as Chandler. Nevertheless, Chandler, feeling uncomfortable under Ross' scrutiny, dropped Monica's hand as if it had suddenly burst into flames.
Monica looked vaguely hurt, but carefully changed her expression to one of indifference.
"It's…um…nice to see you again, Chandler," she managed to say with only a slight quiver in her voice. She searched for something, anything to say to fill the awkward silence. "So…how's your toe?"
Chandler was taken aback for a minute. "My toe?" He searched his brain, trying to figure out what she meant. Then it hit. "Oh! My toe! Yeah…um, um…it's fine. Well, the stub is fine. The actual toe is probably still in your kitchen somewhere." He grimaced, knowing that he'd definitely given way too much information. 'Stop talking. Stop talking NOW,' he told himself.
As one would expect, Monica looked slightly disgusted. "Actually, no, I'm pretty sure Mom cleaned that up awhile ago."
"Right," Chandler said, unable for once in his life to think of a joke. "Right," he repeated, and then cleared his throat self-consciously.
"Anyway, Monica is actually the one moving in here," Ross interjected. Both Chandler and Monica flinched, having forgotten that Ross was still standing there. Ross continued with his update, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable situation between his sister and former roommate. "Our grandmother moved to Florida and gave Monica the apartment. But the landlord doesn't know that, so if you run into him, don't mention it."
"And in the meantime, all letters addressed to Grandma Geller should be forwarded to a bingo hall in Miami, right?" Chandler said dryly.
Ross smiled. "Well, listen, Chandler, I'd love to catch up, but I have a wife at home and you know what THAT means." He gave Chandler an exaggerated wink.
Chandler smiled at this reminder that his old roommate was indeed, a first class nerd. "I don't know, Ross, but winking like that isn't going to get you past first base in MY book."
Ross laughed and turned to his sister. "Mon, you gonna be okay? I think we got everything out of the U-haul."
"Yeah, Ross, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Chandler noticed that Monica clenched her jaw before answering firmly. "I'm sure."
Ross looked uncertain as he hugged Monica briefly. "Well, you have my number if you need anything." Then he brightened considerably. "Or Chandler lives right across the hall. I'm sure he'd be glad to help you unpack. Or show you around the city." Ross glanced expectantly at Chandler.
Chandler chose to ignore the glare Monica sent her brother, as well as his own stomach jumping in anticipation of an excuse to spend time with Monica.
"Sure," he managed to utter casually, seconds before Monica turned her glare on him. He quickly added, "That is, if Monica wants me to."
Even Ross could see that Monica's smile was forced. "I'm sure I'll be fine," she stated. "Bye, Ross."
Ross looked almost sad as he said goodbye to Chandler, promising some "quality catch-up time" soon. Both Monica and Chandler watched as Ross disappeared down the stairs before glancing at each other nervously. Monica quickly averted her eyes as she began to pick up scattered clothes.
Chandler reached for the part of the enormous stack in her arms. "Here, let me help you with that."
Monica looked like she was about to refuse, but thought better of it as she remembered the earlier scenario. "Okay," she acquiesced, handing him the greater portion of the pile. She picked up the rogue key and successfully slid it into the keyhole. Chandler followed Monica's lead into the apartment and placed the clothes where she directed. Taking just a second to look around, he tried to ignore the irony of the fact that he was standing in Monica's bedroom. Which was in Monica's apartment, which just happened to be directly across the hall from his own!
He wandered back out to the main room where Monica was all ready arranging her kitchen. He grinned as he watched her align boxes just-so on shelves, remembering her fixation with orderliness. A memory hit unexpectedly, one he hadn't thought about in years. One that had taken place in another kitchen about five years earlier.
THANKSGIVING 1988
Chandler paused just outside the kitchen door to straighten his jacket and take a deep breath before attempting to saunter casually to where Monica was preparing Thanksgiving dinner. He deepened his voice considerably, hoping that he sounded at least remotely like Don Johnson.
"Monica, I was wondering if you could make me some of that righteous mac and cheese like last year."
He was pleased to note that Monica seemed flustered as she fumbled for a box of macaroni. Must be his charm was finally paying off.
"Um, I'd love to!" For a moment, she seemed anxious to win his approval. But then things changed abruptly—and weirdly. "Ooh, I love macaroni and cheese. I love-I love the way this box feels against my cheek."
PRESENT
"Chandler?"
Chandler started hastily as he realized Monica was calling his name. He smiled at her puzzled gaze, knowing how embarrassed she would be if he reminded her of that incident. Instead, he answered off-handedly. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."
He could see her trying to decide whether or not she wanted to ask what his thoughts were. She decided against it, apparently, settling on a simple "oh."
"So is there anything else I can do?" Chandler asked, sincerely wanting to help. To his extreme disappointment, however, Monica shook her head.
"No, I'm fine. I have everything under control."
Chandler opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it as he remembered her response to Ross. He reluctantly headed toward the door, walking backwards.
"Okay. Well, I'm right across the hall if you need anything. Or, uh, even if you don't."
Monica just stared at him as Chandler rushed to clarify himself.
"What I mean is, if you just want to talk. Or hang out. Or need directions or something. Or whatever," he finished lamely, wishing he had just shut up when he'd had the chance.
"Thanks," Monica replied. "I think I'll be okay, though. But thanks."
Chandler recognized his cue and opened the door to let himself out.
"Oh, Chandler?"
Chandler quickly turned around to face her. "Yeah?"
Monica had a half-smile on her face. "Maybe you could come over for dinner sometime. I'll make macaroni and cheese."
TO BE CONTINUED…