"When You Think Of Me"

Chapter Two – Help Me Understand

AN:  Wow, aren't you proud of me?  Only three days to write the next chapter – and it's pretty long, too!  =) 

Catnamedzane, "When You Think Of Me" is a country song, as is the song for this chapter and most of those I have chosen to highlight in upcoming chapters.  It just so happens that the lyrics to those songs are generally depressing, and seem to fit.  ;-)

Once, in a lifetime,

You'll open up your heart.

Maybe once, in your lifetime,

You'll swear to never be apart.

You think your love's on solid ground,

Then out of the blue, it all comes tumblin' down…

            Monica stumbled across the hallway - the note he had left clutched in one hand - and fumbled with the door to his apartment.  Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.  She wouldn't cry until she was sure it wasn't some kind of joke, a mistaken attempt at humor.  Joey would know.  He'd tell her that Chandler was just trying to freak her out.

The doorknob wasn't turning properly, but before she could gather her wits enough to figure out why, the door swung open and Joey was gazing at her with concern.  She pushed past him into the apartment, then turned around to glare at Joey. 

            "Did you know about this?" she asked him accusingly, thrusting the paper toward him. 

            "Know about what?" Joey asked, his eyes on her as he took the note.  "What's wrong with you?  What is this?"

            "Where is he, Joey?" she asked him as he unfolded the paper, her voice finally breaking.  "Where is he hiding?"

            Joey glanced up at her, still looking perplexed, then let his eyes fall to the page in his hands.  He read the words slowly, then looked back up at Monica with a shrug.

            "Where'd you get this?"

            "It was on my bedside table.  Tell me you knew about it.  Tell me he's trying to be funny."

            Joey raised his eyebrows, alerting Monica to the fact that he didn't understand the seriousness of the situation – and the fact that he wasn't in on it.  She collapsed into one of the recliners, the tears finally flowing down her face. 

            "Tell me he didn't really leave, Joey.  Please tell me he's not gone."

            Joey's eyes widened as he realized what she was reading in those lines, and he began to shake his head.

            "He's not gone," Joey told her, glancing back down at the note in his hand.  "Why would he go anywhere?"

            "He's Chandler, damn it," Monica snapped back, losing all control of her emotions.  "Who knows why he does any of the things he does?"

            "Well, you and me for starters," Joey replied indignantly, offended by her comment.  "We know him better than anyone else.  Don't you think if he was going to leave, one of us would have seen it coming?"

            "I don't know…"  Monica slumped against the back of the chair, not convinced by Joey's arguments.  "I just…I can't shake the feeling…"

            "Have you tried his office, Mon?  He's probably there.  Just call him."

Trust Joey to be logical at a time like this.  Taking a deep breath, Monica nodded and accepted the phone Joey had handed her.  Even if Chandler wasn't in yet, he'd told her his secretary came in every day at 6:30 – a fact Chandler always made fun of – so she could at least ask Helen what his schedule was for the day, and leave him a message to call her immediately.

            The phone rang three times, then Helen's now-familiar voice came through the line, greeting her professionally.

            "Hi, Helen, it's Monica," Monica informed her, struggling to maintain control of her voice.  "Listen, is Chandler there yet?  I really need to talk to him."

            There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and Monica could feel her heartbeat getting louder with each second.  By the time Helen spoke, Monica knew what was coming.  The words came as no surprise. 

            "I'm sorry, dear," Helen finally said, sounding bewildered.  "I'm just surprised that Chandler didn't tell you.  He's…not here.  Friday was his last day.  He gave his notice more than a month ago."

            Joey watched as Monica's face blanched, his own heart sinking.  The phone clattered to the floor, unheeded, as she turned her head to look at him, and he read the truth in her eyes.

Who's gonna hold me tonight,
When I'm feeling lonely?
Who's gonna show me the light?
'Cos I need to know.
With all the things we've got,
How can love just stop?
Tell me, somebody help me understand.

Eight months later…

            "Hey, Mon," Joey greeted her with strained cheerfulness as he walked into Central Perk.  He watched her carefully as she lifted her head from the magazine she was reading and gave him a smile, trying to ascertain what kind of mood she was in.  She was unpredictable these days; until she responded, it was impossible to tell whether she would act like her "normal" self, fall weeping into his arms, or bite his head off for no apparent reason.  In fact, her torrential mood swings had finally driven Rachel to move in with Phoebe, after she confided in the others that she couldn't stand hearing Monica crying all the time and not being able to do anything to help her.

            "Hey, Joe," she responded softly, brushing her hair behind one ear. 

            "Whatcha doin'?" he asked casually, taking a seat beside her and glancing at the magazine in her hand.

            Monica sighed and leaned her head against the back of the couch.  She looked over at Joey and shrugged slightly. 

            "The same thing I'm always doing.  Trying not to think."

            "Mon…"

            "I know," Monica interrupted with another deep sigh, giving him the cue that he was pushing too far.  He'd learned the signals.  Too much, and she would break down completely.

            "So," he began brightly after a moment of silence, "you busy tonight?"

            Monica shook her head, avoiding his gaze by pretending to look back at the magazine.

            "Okay…" Joey responded, discouraged.  "Well, do you want to go get some dinner or something?"

            "No thanks, Joey.  I don't think I'll be very good company."

            "You're always good company, Monica," Joey told her warmly, and was rewarded when Monica finally looked up at him.

            "You're lying," she informed him flatly, but managed a slight smile.  "But I guess it's a credit to your acting skills that you sounded sincere."

            "I am sincere," Joey insisted, with a pleading note to his voice.  "Come on, Monica.  You can't just sit here moping for the rest of your life.  I'll get everyone else to go…or it can just be me and you if you want."

            "I really don't think – "

            "Please, Monica.  I hate to see you like this."

            Monica looked him fully in the eyes, then back down at her lap.  Joey refused to give up on her, and deep down – underneath the layers of heartbreak and bitterness – she appreciated his concern. 

            "Okay, Joey," she relented, reaching out to squeeze his hand.  "I'll go."

            "Good," Joey stated, pleased.  "I'll go tell everybody else.  7:00 okay?"

            "Fine," Monica agreed, finally smiling sincerely. 

            Joey stood up to go, but turned back to Monica with a conspiratory smile. 

            "We'll make Ross pay," he confided with a wink, flashing her one last grin as he headed for the door.

            Geller, party of five.  The words reverberated in her head all evening long, keeping her detached from the dinner party conversation in spite of all attempts to get her attention.  She shouldn't have come.  It was impossible to look around the table at the other four people that shared her life and not remember that their group should have included one more.

            When the meal finally ended, the stress of not mentioning Chandler-or-anything-else-that-might-upset-Monica had drained them all.  Without much discussion, they decided to call it a night, and headed off in the direction of home: Phoebe and Rachel taking a cab in one direction and dropping Ross off on the way, and Joey and Monica walking back to their apartment building together.

            They were both silent until they reached the hallway between their apartments.  Joey waited for Monica to unlock her door, then started to bid her goodnight and go into his own apartment.  Monica stopped him with a hand on his arm, and silently gestured to her open door.

            "You can…come in if you want."

            It had been a while since Monica had freely offered her apartment.  They all came and went as they always had, but he'd noticed the visits becoming less frequent as the months went by.  There was no way he was going to turn down an invitation, not if Monica was reaching out.  So, with a shy grin and a nod, he followed her inside and shut the door behind them.

            She handed Joey a beer, then sat down next to him on the couch with her scotch, crossing her legs underneath her.

            "Can I ask you something, Joey?  You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

            Joey nodded, his eyes questioning.  Monica took a deep breath, then turned her gaze away from his face.

            "Do you know why he left?  Did he tell you…did he ever say anything to you?"

            Joey shook his head, feeling a lump form in his throat. 

            "No…no, he never said anything.  As far as I knew, everything was fine."

            "Me too," Monica said quietly, closing her eyes briefly.  "I thought he really loved me.  I just…I never expected this from him."

            "He did love you, Monica.  He was so happy…"

            "It would have been two years this Thursday," Monica informed him softly, her voice breaking.  "Two years since London.  The night that changed everything."

            Joey was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.  Monica glanced at him and smirked to herself. 

            "You want to hear something funny, Joey?  I wasn't even looking for Chandler that night.  I was looking for you."

            "Wh-what?" Joey questioned, stunned.  That was the last thing he had expected to hear from her.

            "I was depressed…and just wanted sex.  So I went to your hotel room to see if you would…you know.  But you weren't there, Chandler was."

            "Why…why me?"

            Monica shrugged, picking at the cushions on the couch.  "Well…with your reputation and all, I figured it would be good.  And I didn't think I'd have to worry about a one-night stand with you."

            Monica paused, and Joey remained silent, not knowing what he should say.  Monica finally looked up at him and smiled sadly. 

            "After that night, I was so happy that you weren't there…no offense."

            "None taken," Joey was quick to assure her, still floored by the revelation that he might have been the one with Monica that fateful night.

            "I thought that night was the beginning…of something so great.  But now…" Monica paused again, shaking her head slowly.  "Now I wish you had been there.  I wish it had been you instead of him."

            "You don't mean – "

            "Yes, I do!" Monica stated emphatically, slamming her empty glass onto the coffee table.  "I do.  I wish Chandler and I had never happened.  I wish it had been you."

            While Joey stared at her in shock, she calmly poured herself another drink from the bottle of scotch on the table in front of him, then held it in front of her while she gazed across the room at nothing.  Finally, she turned to him, tears lining her eyes and making them red.

            "And you know what the worst part is?  He's the one that left me, and I still feel guilty when I say that out loud."

            From the moment consciousness began to descend upon her, Monica knew it was not going to be a good morning.  And her churning stomach and pounding head assured her that alcohol had everything to do with the way she was feeling.

            She moaned loudly and pulled the pillow over her head, shutting out the sunlight.  Once enclosed in darkness again, she tried to remember the events of the previous evening, and what had driven her to drink so much. 

            Chandler. 

            As usual, she thought to herself, with more than a touch of bitterness.  He was still controlling her life, and he wasn't even in it anymore.

            Their anniversary was coming up, she remembered, and she'd been thinking a lot about London.  In fact, she was telling Joey last ni-

            Joey!

            Monica closed her eyes, feeling her heart sink like a chunk of iron as scenes from the rest of the evening begin to filter through her mind.  Oh, God.  Surely she hadn't.  She couldn't have…

            Monica squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut, then forced herself to uncover her head and look at the other side of her bed.  It was empty, but as her eyes surveyed the rest of the room with trepidation, she saw the evidence of last night.  Her clothes were strewn around the room, perched at awkward angles on various pieces of furniture.  Joey's shoes were tossed near the door, and a white undershirt was barely hanging on to the corner of her bedside table – items he had undoubtedly either forgotten in his hasty departure or found himself in too much of a hurry to worry about.

            "Shit," she whispered to herself, collapsing face down into her pillow.  "What have I done?"

            Monica was sitting on the couch, chewing her fingernails and dreading the inevitable confrontation with Joey when she heard a knock on the door.  As it did every time the phone rang or someone knocked on the door, her heart jumped into her throat, and for a brief second, she wondered if it would be Chandler.  She pushed the thought away with a shake of her head, and reluctantly trudged across the apartment to answer the door, sure she knew who would be on the other side.

            As expected, Joey stood in front of her, a sheepish grin on his face and a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.

            "Hi," he greeted her solemnly, holding out the roses.  "I brought you these."

            Monica smiled hesitantly and reached out to take them, holding them awkwardly as she tried to read Joey's face.  Unable to decipher anything, she turned away from the door, gesturing to the living room as she went in search of a vase.  "Come on in."

            Joey took a couple of steps into the room and closed the door, then turned to watch her as she stood on tiptoe to pull a glass vase from the cabinet.  She silently filled it with water, purposely not looking in his direction, then set the flowers down in the middle of the table.  When she was done, she glanced up at him quickly, then off to one side.

            "Soo…I guess we should talk," she offered, her discomfort obvious.

            "Yeah.  I think so," Joey agreed, his voice shaking audibly.  "Do you, um, want to sit down?"
            Monica nodded, choosing the armchair so she wouldn't have to sit directly next to him.  Joey followed her, sitting down on the end of the couch closest to her, and leaning forward to look at her.

            "Look, Mon, about last night…"

            "We were drunk," Monica interrupted, anxious to get the truth out into the open.  "Why don't we just agree to forget it ever happened?"

            "I don't want to," Joey told her softly, shocking her.  "I want to do the right thing.  I'm not just going to walk out of here and pretend it didn't happen."

            Monica sighed, reaching over to take Joey's hand.  "Listen, Joey, I don't want you to feel like you have to – "

            "Mon, I know I don't have to.  But…well, what if we dated?  Would that be so bad?  I promise I'll be faithful.  I can be a good boyfriend…if I try."

            Monica smiled at him tenderly, then leaned over to kiss him on the forehead.  "I know you could be, Joey.  I don't doubt that.  But not to me."

            "Why not?" he asked her, his tone verging on a pout. 

            "You know why not," Monica told him softly.  "You have to get past the idea that you have to make up for what Chandler did.  You don't have to come along and make everything better.  It's not your responsibility.  You don't have to make his wrongs right."

            "I'm not – "

            "Joey," Monica interrupted, her voice insistent.  "You don't love me.  And – and even if you did, I could never make you happy.  We both know that.  Not when I'm still…"

            She paused, dropping her head as she released Joey's hand.  He looked up at her, suddenly feeling foolish for ever thinking he could pretend to fill Chandler's place in her life.  He moved over to sit on the arm of her chair, and silently wrapped one arm around her shoulders. 

            "How can I still be in love with him, Joey?" she asked him tearfully, burying her face against the side of his body.  "How can I still love him?  I don't understand…"

            "I know, Mon.  I know," Joey whispered, sliding into the chair so he could put both arms around her.  If he'd had any idea where Chandler was at the moment, he would have gladly ripped his former best friend's arms off for what he was doing to this woman - the one person in the world Joey had been sure Chandler would do anything in his power to protect.

            Joey sighed and kissed the top of Monica's head.  He didn't understand either.    

Somebody help me understand

Why I'm not a part of your plan,

And you don't need me anymore.

Help me understand

Why I still wanna be where you are,

Even though I know in my heart

You don't love me anymore…

Who's gonna hold me tonight,

When I'm feeling lonely?

Who's gonna show me the light?

'Cos I need to know.

With the all the things we've got,

How can love just stop?

Tell me, somebody help me understand.

"Help Me Understand" is written by Chris Farren and Steve Mac, and is sung by Trace Adkins.

To Be Continued…