Warning: This chapter is where the "angst" portion of the fic comes in, with Phoebe and Chandler talking about the *very*, *very* dark parts of their adolescence. If you're not comfortable with that sort of thing, you probably don't want to read this one. I can't warn you too much more without giving the story away.
Chandler's mention of his parent's divorce taking two years is to cover a series goof, where Chandler is both nine *and* eleven when his parents got divorced. So he's nine when they decide to get one, and eleven when it's final.
Fixed the Dan/Don mixup. What a horrible, scary, Freudian slip.
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1985
"Hey," Chandler said, looking up from his guitar in surprise. "I didn't think you'd be here. We pretty much got 'Kumbayah' down yesterday."
"Well... I... I heard you playing, and I..."
"Oh my god, are you crying?"
She nodded. He patted the ground beside him awkwardly. "Hey, hey. Sit down. What happened?"
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You'll make fun of me."
"I'm not a *total* asshole, I swear. Sit down."
Phoebe did, spreading her skirt out underneath her. "I... I just talked to my foster dad on the phone."
"Foster dad? I thought you lived in a box or something."
"I *did* live in a box, okay? Then I got arrested for... stuff... and they put me in foster care. What the hell did you think -- I sublet my box and sent myself to camp?"
"Your foster dad sent you to camp?"
"Yeah, right," she sniffed. "No, the school did. It's like a scholarship, for sucking the most. Believe me, my foster dad wants me at home. And I mean that in every sense of the word."
"Oh," Chandler said quietly.
"Yeah, it's me, and these four other girls my age. The people at the agency think he's *such* a sweetheart for agreeing to take teenagers."
She wiped away more tears angrily. "I should have known it was too good to be friggin' true. Nobody fosters older kids unless they need the money or a free servant."
"He just seemed so nice," she continued. "And the place was so nice... I mean, you don't even want to know about some of the places I've been. This was this beautiful house, in this beautiful neighborhood... I had my own room, my own huge room. And he didn't hand me a list of seven million duties, he didn't take the support check and blow it on booze... he wanted to take me shopping, and I thought, 'Oh god, this is so great'. He seemed so *interested* in me. And, I mean, he was. So he takes me to the mall, and I'm all excited, and he takes me to Victoria's Secret, you know, and I'm like, wow, I can't believe he's not embarrassed to be in here, he's so cool."
"I was so friggin' stupid," she moaned.
"What did he do?" Chandler asked.
"Well first off, he picks out all this slutty stuff. Which kinda weirds me out, but I'm naive, I think he just doesn't know what he's doing, trying to help. So I go try it on, I'm half-naked, and he just opens the changing room door and comes right on inside, just sits down on the little stool like everything's normal, watches me. And I tell him I'm not comfortable with that, and he acts like *I'm* weird, but he's pretty cool about it. Doesn't mention it the rest of the trip, buys me tons of crap. I decide maybe some people do that."
"And then what?"
"And then it just got worse, and worse. First he'd come in, I'd be watching TV or something, and he'd want to have a heart to heart talk with me. Hand on my knee, you know. Hugs that lasted too long, with hands that moved a little too much. Playful butt-pats. It was never stuff where I could jump up and scream, you know? And he was *so* nice to me. I didn't want to hurt his feelings... and the other girls seemed cool with it, I didn't want to be the weird one. I've never really had a dad, I didn't know what other families did. My stepdad didn't do any of that stuff, but he wasn't a touchy-feely guy anyway."
"He always kissed the other girls goodbye on the lips, and he started doing it to me. It was weird, but it just got a little bit weirder every day, a little longer..."
"God, that must have creeped you out."
"Oh totally. And then one day, I'm doing math homework, and my pencil breaks. So I go up to Heather's room, to see if she has one. I knock, but the music's really loud, so I think she can't hear me, I open the door. And there's Heather and Dan, y'know."
"What did you do?"
"Shut the door! And freaked, you know. The thing was, it wasn't like he was raping Heather or anything, she was making, you know, noises. So I run over to Becca's room, ask her if she knows about the two of them."
Phoebe sighed. "And she just laughed. This horrible, bitter, laugh. And says, 'You mean he hasn't come for you yet? This must be a record.' She says Heather likes it, she's got this stupid crush on Dan, thinks he loves her... but that she and Amanda just put up with it."
"Oh my *god*."
"Yeah. And she says if I want to stick around, I'd better start giving it up, too. Says it's worth it, says Dan puts money in savings accounts for them, buys them cars, and pays their college tuitions afterwards. Apparently lots of girls have lived there, getting the Dan Scholarship."
"What did you do?"
"Well, that night, Dan comes into my room. Says he's glad I saw them, glad I know. Starts rubbing my leg under the blanket, leans over and kisses me. I told him I had my period, and he... he patted my leg and said he'd see me later. Just like that. Still so nice, in this totally freaky sick way. Says I'm old enough to have a car, and did I like convertibles? And then he *winked* at me, Chandler, he friggin' *winked* at me."
"I didn't know what to do," Phoebe continued, crossing her arms over her legs. "I went to school the next day, and I overheard some girls in my English class talking about this kid who'd been caught being stoned in class. They'd given him the choice of either being expelled, or being sent here for the summer."
"There was like, a month of school left at this point. And I'm thinking, if I can just make it a month, I can get away from him for a whole summer, get a plan, make a decision. So I took a bunch of the money he'd put in an account for me, and I found one of the stoner kids, one that dealt, and bought an ounce of pot off of him."
"An *ounce*?"
"I needed a lot. I stashed it in my locker, I put it in my shoe, I smoked some of it, I rubbed some of it on me, I chewed some of it, I put it in my hair. I made sure I *reeked* of it. And then, at lunch, I smoked, oh my god, so much. I couldn't feel my feet, my pupils were huge. And I went to English class, and just started freaking out. Threw my books down, started cursing, called the teacher a whore. So of course they found it all."
She smiled bitterly. "And the bonus was, Dan was so pissed off at me, he didn't want to touch me. And then I got to leave for camp."
"Wow."
"Thing is, though, he's not mad at me anymore. I just talked to him, and he's all sleazy horny nice again. Asked me if I'd learned anything naughty at naughty girl camp. It was so friggin' gross."
"Do you have a... foster mom?"
"She travels all the time, she's home like two days a month."
"Couldn't you tell her?"
"One of the other girls... Amanda... said she did tell her, like a year ago. And the woman totally didn't believe her, said she was causing trouble, threatened to kick her out."
"What a bitch."
"Yeah. But I'm not going back there," Phoebe said defiantly.
"You're not?"
"Nope. I told my foster dad today that camp lets out a week after it really does. When he goes to pick me up from the bus, I'll be long friggin' gone."
"What are you going to do?"
"Go back to the city. I've got friends. I can get a new box."
"Oh my god, Phoebe... you can't do that. It's not safe."
"Look. I can live in a box, and maybe something bad will happen to me. Or I can go back to that house, where something bad will *definitely* happen to me. I'm just playing the odds, okay?"
She looked at him angrily. "You wouldn't understand anyway."
"Actually, Phoebe," he sighed, "I might. More than you'd think."
"Oh, please. Your parents are rich."
"Yeah, yeah, they are. So maybe I don't know anything about living in a box, okay, but I know something about... the other stuff."
Phoebe's eyes widened. "Oh my god... your gay dad?"
"No, no, hell no!" Chandler nearly shrieked. "Dad would never, Dad's not like that, not at all. This guy..."
"Guy... Chandler, are you gay, too?"
"No. Maybe. No. I don't know. I don't know anymore."
"Do you... want to talk about it?"
"I... I've never told anyone before. It's not like yours, it's my fault."
"How is it your fault?"
"Okay, I... alright, my dad... he's in this show. 'Viva Los Gaygas'. It's him, dressed as a woman... 'Helena Handbasket', that's his stage name..."
"Cute."
"Yeah. Anyway, my parents told me they were getting divorced on Thanksgiving, when I was about nine. But there was so much money, so much fighting over my mom's royalties, so much custody crap... it took them like, two years to actually, finally, get divorced. And neither of them wanted to move out of the house, because there's some stupid occupation thing, "abandonment", that affects how everything's divided up... so I had to live with them for two years while they friggin' hated each other's guts."
"They'd talk *through* me, y'know? And not nicely, either. It'd be like, 'Chandler, will you tell the flaming mincer that he has a phone call?', o-or 'Chandler, please inform the evil bitch that dinner is on the table.'"
"It was like a war. Who could hurt each other the most. They'd both bring guys to the house, mess around with them in front of each other, to hurt each other. Never mind how it might look to a ten-year-old. I actually walked in on *both* of them with the same guy once."
"And the custody crap. My god. Neither of them wanted me -- they just didn't want the other one to have me. Because I had to pick, see. That was what they decided. And both of them wanted me to pick them instead of the other one. Sort of the ultimate screw-you, our kid likes me best. I didn't want to pick either of them."
"My dad's manager, Philip... who, weirdly enough, was supposedly straight, had a wife and everything... was at the house all the time. He was setting up the Vegas thing for dad, dealing with all the crap from my dad's, y'know, fairly major act change."
"He was always really nice to me. *Really* paid attention to me, which no one else did. I worshipped the guy. I guess you could say I had a crush on him. I mean, if I'd been able to pick Philip as the person to have custody of me, I would have. I'd go to his house for visits, play with his kids, go camping with them. They were like the family I wanted so bad. So normal, you know. So happy."
"Then Dad moved to Vegas, and I didn't see Philip or his kids anymore. It was just me and my mom and her endless parade of boy toys. When it was time to visit my dad, I was so excited... not so much to see my Dad, but to see Philip, you know?"
"And I get down there, and my dad's started drinking, my god, so much. The show's not as popular as he wanted, he's freaking out because he's getting older, he's had this huge fight with his boyfriend that he's all depressed about... he barely noticed me. But Philip did. And Philip said I could stay with him at his apartment in Vegas, he had an extra room. God, I was happy."
"Philip was so nice to me. Took me out, took me to shows, took me to the arcade, gave me lots of attention and affection, which god, I needed so bad. He was way more affectionate than he'd been in New York, but I just ate it up for those two months I was out there."
"Then, last year... Mom had to do a book tour on Thanksgiving, so I went down to spend the holiday with my dad. Typical dad holiday, totally dysfunctional, him and all his backup dancers getting plastered. We each had our own turkey microwave dinner, just like the Pilgrims. They were all so much older than me, talking about stuff I didn't care about, and there was so much alcohol. I thought hell, I've never been drunk before, let's see what it's like. No one stopped me, they all thought it was funny. I actually passed out at one point, passed out on the floor. I woke up to the smell of burning hair... I'd dropped my cigarette."
"I puked on some guy named Manuel, and lurched over to Philip's apartment. Let myself in with my key, didn't expect him to be there. Found him on the couch crying. Said his wife had kicked him out of the house. So I hugged him, I mean, I loved the guy. And he started kissing me. It felt... it felt good."
"I was so drunk, so dizzy, and it all felt good. He kept saying all these nice things, saying how wonderful I was, saying how much he cared about me..."
"And then I woke up the next day, in his bed, so sick and confused, and I threw up Thanksgiving food all over his bathroom. Turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce... I can't eat any of it anymore. I mean, it was bad enough that my parents told me they were getting divorced that day, but then... ugh. I *hate* Thanksgiving."
"Oh my god, I..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "Could I hug you? I kinda need one."
Chandler leaned against the log and opened one arm. Phoebe scooted into it and leaned her head on his chest, draping an arm around him.
"It's kinda why I dress this way, or part of it," Chandler sighed. "This summer, when I went back... I didn't want to go, I didn't know what to do. I'd had six months to think about it, six months to freak out, six months to wonder about myself, was I like my dad, what did it mean. And when I got there, everyone just expected me to stay with Philip. I'd been doing it for years. And he, he acted like we had a thing, was all hurt when I didn't want one, said I'd led him on, said I was breaking his heart, said he loved me."
"The whole cast was out one night, and Philip saw a bunch of goths... started making fun of them, saying how gross they looked. So I... I went into Dad's dressing room, borrowed a bunch of his makeup. The more I did, the less Philip came on to me... so I just started doing more, and more, and more. I bought armbands, I painted my nails... bought a Robert Smith tape and copied everything."
Chandler picked at his black jeans bitterly. "I wasn't his little yuppie treat anymore."
"But you're still wearing it," Phoebe pointed out.
"I know. It feels like... it feels like *armor*. Like nothing can touch me when I'm in here. I'm safe, y'know?"
"Chandler, why don't you tell your parents?"
"Like they'd care. My parents barely notice I exist. They're like my travel agents. Boarding school, camp... they just shove me wherever I won't be in the way. Neither of them wanted kids, even when they were married... and they definitely don't want the burden of me now that they're single. I see my mom on stopovers... and the most I see of my dad is his ass in a sequined dress while he belts out 'Raining Men' and I wriggle in my raincoat shorts. Offstage, he's pretty much glued to the bottle. And Philip's his manager, my dad can't afford to piss him off."
"So do you? Think you're really gay?"
"I don't know. I mean, I look back on it, and it's not exactly exciting. It's more like that feeling when you need to puke and can't. But at the time... I... I mean, I don't know if the pukey feeling is because he's a man, or because he's Philip."
Chandler looked down at his shoes. "Anyway, it's not like I've ever even kissed a girl, so, you know. No comparison."
"Seriously? Never?"
"Well, between the all-boys high school and the summers surrounded by drag queens, I haven't gotten much of a chance."
Phoebe leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. After a moment, Chandler responded. They sank down against the log, kisses growing more urgent, kicking aside Chandler's guitar case.
Phoebe came up for breath. "Unless that's a banana in your pocket, you're at least bi."
"Yeah, I'm... I'm thinking I'm probably straight," Chandler panted. "Did you just kiss me to test that theory?"
"Well, yeah. And I also wanted to."
"I kinda wanted to kiss you too."
Phoebe ran her thumb gently under Chandler's eye. "Your mascara is running."
He lifted up his own hand to wipe it away, noticing his watch as he did. "Oh my god. We're so, so late."
Phoebe stood up, brushing the leaves from the bottom of her skirt. "So... um... you want to come here tomorrow and... practice?"
"Yeah," he smiled. "That sounds like fun."
***
Chandler ran through the woods, a huge smile on his face. Two weeks had passed in a blur of hormones. Their performance of "Kumbayah" had gone so well that they'd played "Where Have All The Flowers Gone" the next week. This Thursday, for Parent's Day, it was "Blowin' in the Wind", but he hadn't brought his guitar today; they'd worked out the arrangement Friday night, and had very different ideas than Sherri the Growth Guide on how they wanted to spend their rehearsal time.
The smile faded from his face as he entered the clearing and saw Phoebe huddled up, knees to chest and her face in her arms.
"Did your foster dad call again?"
"He's coming to Parents Day. And he bought me a Cabriolet convertible, which I guess is supposed to be kind of a down payment on my *ass*."
Chandler dropped down beside her and put his arm around her. "He wouldn't try anything in front of all these people, would he?"
"Oh please. Look around you. *We've* been making out in the woods for two weeks. It's what woods are *for*."
"So I won't leave you alone with him. Ever."
"How are you going to manage that? We're in different classes half the day."
"Ipecac."
"What?"
"Syrup of Ipecac. We'll break into the Infirmary tonight and steal a bottle. You drink it, you throw up, you'll spend Parents Day in sick bay, surrounded by nurses."
"That takes care of Parents Day, but god, Chandler, what about the rest of my life?"
"Are you still thinking about running away?"
"Want to come live in a box with me?"
Chandler laughed ruefully. "Um, thanks, but no. Anyway, in two weeks I'll be back at boarding school, so..." he trailed off.
"So... what?"
"So I just had an idea. For both of us."
***
"Darling!" Nora Bing cried in delight, air-kissing him, "You look wonderful!"
"Thanks, mom," Chandler said wholesomely, pulling at the collar of his borrowed Lacoste shirt.
"I was so surprised when you called, darling. I don't think you've invited me to a parent's day since birth."
"Well, this is kinda special. I was going to be playing a song with my friend Phoebe. She's the one who cut my hair."
"It looks so much better," Nora smiled. "You know, I'd almost forgotten how pretty your eyes are."
"You know, Mom," Chandler gushed, pulling her towards a picnic table, "I really want to thank you for sending me here. I feel like I've *really* grown as a person."
"Wow," Nora said. "I thought you hated it here, darling."
"I just didn't *get* it before," Chandler soothed. "I guess I just... wasn't *mature* enough."
"Well... dear... that's..."
"But I also wanted to talk to you," Chandler interrupted. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. About college."
"College? But darling, that's not for a while yet..."
"I know. But I was thinking, you see, about how so many kids get to college and crash and burn, you know? They go from a totally controlled environment to a totally uncontrolled one, and bam -- they're drinking, using drugs, having unprotected sex..."
"Where are you going with this?"
"I was thinking it might be good for me to sort of... transition, you know? Instead of being plunged from one environment to another, I'd be able to sort of try on freedom, within safe parameters."
"Environment? Parameters? What have you done with my child?"
"Here's my proposal," Chandler continued. "What if, instead of living in the dorms next year, you rented me an apartment off campus?"
"An apartment...? I don't know..."
"Just think about it. I know what a huge hassle it is for you to try and deal with me in the summers when school is closed... this way, you wouldn't have to. I could just stay up there. I could learn about responsibility and still have a safety net."
"What about visiting your father, darling?"
"I could still visit him. Just not for as long. I don't think it's a very wholesome environment for me, Mom."
"That's probably true..."
"For that matter, neither are the dorms, really. Those guys are up all night, playing loud music, partying... it's just not very conducive to studying."
"Conducive?"
"I could learn about so many things. Paying bills. Cooking for myself. Being responsible. I think it would be a really great, really enriching experience."
"But darling, you'd have to find an apartment..."
"That wouldn't be a problem! I could drive up to school after camp, stay in a hotel, look for a place. It would be another great experience-builder."
"I don't know, darling..."
"I've really learned a lot about myself this month, Mom. And I've learned a lot about parent/child relationships. If you want me to be responsible, Mom, you're going to have to trust me first. I can't fly if you don't let me out of the nest."
He grinned his best Osmond grin. "We could start it off as a trial. One semester. If my grades don't improve, you can put me back in the dorms."
"That's... very reasonable... I guess..."
"I've really matured here. I've made friends, raised my self-esteem, stopped dressing like a pallbearer. Give me a chance to show you how far I've come. Please, Mom."
She sighed. "Fine. But it's a trial. One semester."
"I won't let you down, Mom," he grinned, kissing her cheek.
Nora rubbed her cheek in amazement. "I'll transfer the money into your account when I get home. I still can't believe I'm agreeing to this."
"You won't regret it for a second. C'mon, I'll walk you over to the campfire."
***
Chandler slipped into Sick Bay, guitar case in hand. He crossed to Phoebe's bed and sat down on the edge.
"How'd it go?" she hissed.
"Perfection," he whispered back.
"Wow," she laughed. "I have a sugar daddy. I always wanted one of those. Well, that wasn't Dan."
"Don't worry about anything," Chandler said. "You just puke. I'm taking care of it."
She fingered the collar of his polo shirt and laughed. "Look at you, all yuppie. All you need is a sweatervest."
"I actually have some at home."
"You're like this sexy... miniature... accountant."
"Gotta go play," Chandler said. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He waited until the nurse had turned her back, then gave Phoebe a quick kiss, and strode out the door.
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To be continued...
Chandler's mention of his parent's divorce taking two years is to cover a series goof, where Chandler is both nine *and* eleven when his parents got divorced. So he's nine when they decide to get one, and eleven when it's final.
Fixed the Dan/Don mixup. What a horrible, scary, Freudian slip.
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1985
"Hey," Chandler said, looking up from his guitar in surprise. "I didn't think you'd be here. We pretty much got 'Kumbayah' down yesterday."
"Well... I... I heard you playing, and I..."
"Oh my god, are you crying?"
She nodded. He patted the ground beside him awkwardly. "Hey, hey. Sit down. What happened?"
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You'll make fun of me."
"I'm not a *total* asshole, I swear. Sit down."
Phoebe did, spreading her skirt out underneath her. "I... I just talked to my foster dad on the phone."
"Foster dad? I thought you lived in a box or something."
"I *did* live in a box, okay? Then I got arrested for... stuff... and they put me in foster care. What the hell did you think -- I sublet my box and sent myself to camp?"
"Your foster dad sent you to camp?"
"Yeah, right," she sniffed. "No, the school did. It's like a scholarship, for sucking the most. Believe me, my foster dad wants me at home. And I mean that in every sense of the word."
"Oh," Chandler said quietly.
"Yeah, it's me, and these four other girls my age. The people at the agency think he's *such* a sweetheart for agreeing to take teenagers."
She wiped away more tears angrily. "I should have known it was too good to be friggin' true. Nobody fosters older kids unless they need the money or a free servant."
"He just seemed so nice," she continued. "And the place was so nice... I mean, you don't even want to know about some of the places I've been. This was this beautiful house, in this beautiful neighborhood... I had my own room, my own huge room. And he didn't hand me a list of seven million duties, he didn't take the support check and blow it on booze... he wanted to take me shopping, and I thought, 'Oh god, this is so great'. He seemed so *interested* in me. And, I mean, he was. So he takes me to the mall, and I'm all excited, and he takes me to Victoria's Secret, you know, and I'm like, wow, I can't believe he's not embarrassed to be in here, he's so cool."
"I was so friggin' stupid," she moaned.
"What did he do?" Chandler asked.
"Well first off, he picks out all this slutty stuff. Which kinda weirds me out, but I'm naive, I think he just doesn't know what he's doing, trying to help. So I go try it on, I'm half-naked, and he just opens the changing room door and comes right on inside, just sits down on the little stool like everything's normal, watches me. And I tell him I'm not comfortable with that, and he acts like *I'm* weird, but he's pretty cool about it. Doesn't mention it the rest of the trip, buys me tons of crap. I decide maybe some people do that."
"And then what?"
"And then it just got worse, and worse. First he'd come in, I'd be watching TV or something, and he'd want to have a heart to heart talk with me. Hand on my knee, you know. Hugs that lasted too long, with hands that moved a little too much. Playful butt-pats. It was never stuff where I could jump up and scream, you know? And he was *so* nice to me. I didn't want to hurt his feelings... and the other girls seemed cool with it, I didn't want to be the weird one. I've never really had a dad, I didn't know what other families did. My stepdad didn't do any of that stuff, but he wasn't a touchy-feely guy anyway."
"He always kissed the other girls goodbye on the lips, and he started doing it to me. It was weird, but it just got a little bit weirder every day, a little longer..."
"God, that must have creeped you out."
"Oh totally. And then one day, I'm doing math homework, and my pencil breaks. So I go up to Heather's room, to see if she has one. I knock, but the music's really loud, so I think she can't hear me, I open the door. And there's Heather and Dan, y'know."
"What did you do?"
"Shut the door! And freaked, you know. The thing was, it wasn't like he was raping Heather or anything, she was making, you know, noises. So I run over to Becca's room, ask her if she knows about the two of them."
Phoebe sighed. "And she just laughed. This horrible, bitter, laugh. And says, 'You mean he hasn't come for you yet? This must be a record.' She says Heather likes it, she's got this stupid crush on Dan, thinks he loves her... but that she and Amanda just put up with it."
"Oh my *god*."
"Yeah. And she says if I want to stick around, I'd better start giving it up, too. Says it's worth it, says Dan puts money in savings accounts for them, buys them cars, and pays their college tuitions afterwards. Apparently lots of girls have lived there, getting the Dan Scholarship."
"What did you do?"
"Well, that night, Dan comes into my room. Says he's glad I saw them, glad I know. Starts rubbing my leg under the blanket, leans over and kisses me. I told him I had my period, and he... he patted my leg and said he'd see me later. Just like that. Still so nice, in this totally freaky sick way. Says I'm old enough to have a car, and did I like convertibles? And then he *winked* at me, Chandler, he friggin' *winked* at me."
"I didn't know what to do," Phoebe continued, crossing her arms over her legs. "I went to school the next day, and I overheard some girls in my English class talking about this kid who'd been caught being stoned in class. They'd given him the choice of either being expelled, or being sent here for the summer."
"There was like, a month of school left at this point. And I'm thinking, if I can just make it a month, I can get away from him for a whole summer, get a plan, make a decision. So I took a bunch of the money he'd put in an account for me, and I found one of the stoner kids, one that dealt, and bought an ounce of pot off of him."
"An *ounce*?"
"I needed a lot. I stashed it in my locker, I put it in my shoe, I smoked some of it, I rubbed some of it on me, I chewed some of it, I put it in my hair. I made sure I *reeked* of it. And then, at lunch, I smoked, oh my god, so much. I couldn't feel my feet, my pupils were huge. And I went to English class, and just started freaking out. Threw my books down, started cursing, called the teacher a whore. So of course they found it all."
She smiled bitterly. "And the bonus was, Dan was so pissed off at me, he didn't want to touch me. And then I got to leave for camp."
"Wow."
"Thing is, though, he's not mad at me anymore. I just talked to him, and he's all sleazy horny nice again. Asked me if I'd learned anything naughty at naughty girl camp. It was so friggin' gross."
"Do you have a... foster mom?"
"She travels all the time, she's home like two days a month."
"Couldn't you tell her?"
"One of the other girls... Amanda... said she did tell her, like a year ago. And the woman totally didn't believe her, said she was causing trouble, threatened to kick her out."
"What a bitch."
"Yeah. But I'm not going back there," Phoebe said defiantly.
"You're not?"
"Nope. I told my foster dad today that camp lets out a week after it really does. When he goes to pick me up from the bus, I'll be long friggin' gone."
"What are you going to do?"
"Go back to the city. I've got friends. I can get a new box."
"Oh my god, Phoebe... you can't do that. It's not safe."
"Look. I can live in a box, and maybe something bad will happen to me. Or I can go back to that house, where something bad will *definitely* happen to me. I'm just playing the odds, okay?"
She looked at him angrily. "You wouldn't understand anyway."
"Actually, Phoebe," he sighed, "I might. More than you'd think."
"Oh, please. Your parents are rich."
"Yeah, yeah, they are. So maybe I don't know anything about living in a box, okay, but I know something about... the other stuff."
Phoebe's eyes widened. "Oh my god... your gay dad?"
"No, no, hell no!" Chandler nearly shrieked. "Dad would never, Dad's not like that, not at all. This guy..."
"Guy... Chandler, are you gay, too?"
"No. Maybe. No. I don't know. I don't know anymore."
"Do you... want to talk about it?"
"I... I've never told anyone before. It's not like yours, it's my fault."
"How is it your fault?"
"Okay, I... alright, my dad... he's in this show. 'Viva Los Gaygas'. It's him, dressed as a woman... 'Helena Handbasket', that's his stage name..."
"Cute."
"Yeah. Anyway, my parents told me they were getting divorced on Thanksgiving, when I was about nine. But there was so much money, so much fighting over my mom's royalties, so much custody crap... it took them like, two years to actually, finally, get divorced. And neither of them wanted to move out of the house, because there's some stupid occupation thing, "abandonment", that affects how everything's divided up... so I had to live with them for two years while they friggin' hated each other's guts."
"They'd talk *through* me, y'know? And not nicely, either. It'd be like, 'Chandler, will you tell the flaming mincer that he has a phone call?', o-or 'Chandler, please inform the evil bitch that dinner is on the table.'"
"It was like a war. Who could hurt each other the most. They'd both bring guys to the house, mess around with them in front of each other, to hurt each other. Never mind how it might look to a ten-year-old. I actually walked in on *both* of them with the same guy once."
"And the custody crap. My god. Neither of them wanted me -- they just didn't want the other one to have me. Because I had to pick, see. That was what they decided. And both of them wanted me to pick them instead of the other one. Sort of the ultimate screw-you, our kid likes me best. I didn't want to pick either of them."
"My dad's manager, Philip... who, weirdly enough, was supposedly straight, had a wife and everything... was at the house all the time. He was setting up the Vegas thing for dad, dealing with all the crap from my dad's, y'know, fairly major act change."
"He was always really nice to me. *Really* paid attention to me, which no one else did. I worshipped the guy. I guess you could say I had a crush on him. I mean, if I'd been able to pick Philip as the person to have custody of me, I would have. I'd go to his house for visits, play with his kids, go camping with them. They were like the family I wanted so bad. So normal, you know. So happy."
"Then Dad moved to Vegas, and I didn't see Philip or his kids anymore. It was just me and my mom and her endless parade of boy toys. When it was time to visit my dad, I was so excited... not so much to see my Dad, but to see Philip, you know?"
"And I get down there, and my dad's started drinking, my god, so much. The show's not as popular as he wanted, he's freaking out because he's getting older, he's had this huge fight with his boyfriend that he's all depressed about... he barely noticed me. But Philip did. And Philip said I could stay with him at his apartment in Vegas, he had an extra room. God, I was happy."
"Philip was so nice to me. Took me out, took me to shows, took me to the arcade, gave me lots of attention and affection, which god, I needed so bad. He was way more affectionate than he'd been in New York, but I just ate it up for those two months I was out there."
"Then, last year... Mom had to do a book tour on Thanksgiving, so I went down to spend the holiday with my dad. Typical dad holiday, totally dysfunctional, him and all his backup dancers getting plastered. We each had our own turkey microwave dinner, just like the Pilgrims. They were all so much older than me, talking about stuff I didn't care about, and there was so much alcohol. I thought hell, I've never been drunk before, let's see what it's like. No one stopped me, they all thought it was funny. I actually passed out at one point, passed out on the floor. I woke up to the smell of burning hair... I'd dropped my cigarette."
"I puked on some guy named Manuel, and lurched over to Philip's apartment. Let myself in with my key, didn't expect him to be there. Found him on the couch crying. Said his wife had kicked him out of the house. So I hugged him, I mean, I loved the guy. And he started kissing me. It felt... it felt good."
"I was so drunk, so dizzy, and it all felt good. He kept saying all these nice things, saying how wonderful I was, saying how much he cared about me..."
"And then I woke up the next day, in his bed, so sick and confused, and I threw up Thanksgiving food all over his bathroom. Turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce... I can't eat any of it anymore. I mean, it was bad enough that my parents told me they were getting divorced that day, but then... ugh. I *hate* Thanksgiving."
"Oh my god, I..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "Could I hug you? I kinda need one."
Chandler leaned against the log and opened one arm. Phoebe scooted into it and leaned her head on his chest, draping an arm around him.
"It's kinda why I dress this way, or part of it," Chandler sighed. "This summer, when I went back... I didn't want to go, I didn't know what to do. I'd had six months to think about it, six months to freak out, six months to wonder about myself, was I like my dad, what did it mean. And when I got there, everyone just expected me to stay with Philip. I'd been doing it for years. And he, he acted like we had a thing, was all hurt when I didn't want one, said I'd led him on, said I was breaking his heart, said he loved me."
"The whole cast was out one night, and Philip saw a bunch of goths... started making fun of them, saying how gross they looked. So I... I went into Dad's dressing room, borrowed a bunch of his makeup. The more I did, the less Philip came on to me... so I just started doing more, and more, and more. I bought armbands, I painted my nails... bought a Robert Smith tape and copied everything."
Chandler picked at his black jeans bitterly. "I wasn't his little yuppie treat anymore."
"But you're still wearing it," Phoebe pointed out.
"I know. It feels like... it feels like *armor*. Like nothing can touch me when I'm in here. I'm safe, y'know?"
"Chandler, why don't you tell your parents?"
"Like they'd care. My parents barely notice I exist. They're like my travel agents. Boarding school, camp... they just shove me wherever I won't be in the way. Neither of them wanted kids, even when they were married... and they definitely don't want the burden of me now that they're single. I see my mom on stopovers... and the most I see of my dad is his ass in a sequined dress while he belts out 'Raining Men' and I wriggle in my raincoat shorts. Offstage, he's pretty much glued to the bottle. And Philip's his manager, my dad can't afford to piss him off."
"So do you? Think you're really gay?"
"I don't know. I mean, I look back on it, and it's not exactly exciting. It's more like that feeling when you need to puke and can't. But at the time... I... I mean, I don't know if the pukey feeling is because he's a man, or because he's Philip."
Chandler looked down at his shoes. "Anyway, it's not like I've ever even kissed a girl, so, you know. No comparison."
"Seriously? Never?"
"Well, between the all-boys high school and the summers surrounded by drag queens, I haven't gotten much of a chance."
Phoebe leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. After a moment, Chandler responded. They sank down against the log, kisses growing more urgent, kicking aside Chandler's guitar case.
Phoebe came up for breath. "Unless that's a banana in your pocket, you're at least bi."
"Yeah, I'm... I'm thinking I'm probably straight," Chandler panted. "Did you just kiss me to test that theory?"
"Well, yeah. And I also wanted to."
"I kinda wanted to kiss you too."
Phoebe ran her thumb gently under Chandler's eye. "Your mascara is running."
He lifted up his own hand to wipe it away, noticing his watch as he did. "Oh my god. We're so, so late."
Phoebe stood up, brushing the leaves from the bottom of her skirt. "So... um... you want to come here tomorrow and... practice?"
"Yeah," he smiled. "That sounds like fun."
***
Chandler ran through the woods, a huge smile on his face. Two weeks had passed in a blur of hormones. Their performance of "Kumbayah" had gone so well that they'd played "Where Have All The Flowers Gone" the next week. This Thursday, for Parent's Day, it was "Blowin' in the Wind", but he hadn't brought his guitar today; they'd worked out the arrangement Friday night, and had very different ideas than Sherri the Growth Guide on how they wanted to spend their rehearsal time.
The smile faded from his face as he entered the clearing and saw Phoebe huddled up, knees to chest and her face in her arms.
"Did your foster dad call again?"
"He's coming to Parents Day. And he bought me a Cabriolet convertible, which I guess is supposed to be kind of a down payment on my *ass*."
Chandler dropped down beside her and put his arm around her. "He wouldn't try anything in front of all these people, would he?"
"Oh please. Look around you. *We've* been making out in the woods for two weeks. It's what woods are *for*."
"So I won't leave you alone with him. Ever."
"How are you going to manage that? We're in different classes half the day."
"Ipecac."
"What?"
"Syrup of Ipecac. We'll break into the Infirmary tonight and steal a bottle. You drink it, you throw up, you'll spend Parents Day in sick bay, surrounded by nurses."
"That takes care of Parents Day, but god, Chandler, what about the rest of my life?"
"Are you still thinking about running away?"
"Want to come live in a box with me?"
Chandler laughed ruefully. "Um, thanks, but no. Anyway, in two weeks I'll be back at boarding school, so..." he trailed off.
"So... what?"
"So I just had an idea. For both of us."
***
"Darling!" Nora Bing cried in delight, air-kissing him, "You look wonderful!"
"Thanks, mom," Chandler said wholesomely, pulling at the collar of his borrowed Lacoste shirt.
"I was so surprised when you called, darling. I don't think you've invited me to a parent's day since birth."
"Well, this is kinda special. I was going to be playing a song with my friend Phoebe. She's the one who cut my hair."
"It looks so much better," Nora smiled. "You know, I'd almost forgotten how pretty your eyes are."
"You know, Mom," Chandler gushed, pulling her towards a picnic table, "I really want to thank you for sending me here. I feel like I've *really* grown as a person."
"Wow," Nora said. "I thought you hated it here, darling."
"I just didn't *get* it before," Chandler soothed. "I guess I just... wasn't *mature* enough."
"Well... dear... that's..."
"But I also wanted to talk to you," Chandler interrupted. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. About college."
"College? But darling, that's not for a while yet..."
"I know. But I was thinking, you see, about how so many kids get to college and crash and burn, you know? They go from a totally controlled environment to a totally uncontrolled one, and bam -- they're drinking, using drugs, having unprotected sex..."
"Where are you going with this?"
"I was thinking it might be good for me to sort of... transition, you know? Instead of being plunged from one environment to another, I'd be able to sort of try on freedom, within safe parameters."
"Environment? Parameters? What have you done with my child?"
"Here's my proposal," Chandler continued. "What if, instead of living in the dorms next year, you rented me an apartment off campus?"
"An apartment...? I don't know..."
"Just think about it. I know what a huge hassle it is for you to try and deal with me in the summers when school is closed... this way, you wouldn't have to. I could just stay up there. I could learn about responsibility and still have a safety net."
"What about visiting your father, darling?"
"I could still visit him. Just not for as long. I don't think it's a very wholesome environment for me, Mom."
"That's probably true..."
"For that matter, neither are the dorms, really. Those guys are up all night, playing loud music, partying... it's just not very conducive to studying."
"Conducive?"
"I could learn about so many things. Paying bills. Cooking for myself. Being responsible. I think it would be a really great, really enriching experience."
"But darling, you'd have to find an apartment..."
"That wouldn't be a problem! I could drive up to school after camp, stay in a hotel, look for a place. It would be another great experience-builder."
"I don't know, darling..."
"I've really learned a lot about myself this month, Mom. And I've learned a lot about parent/child relationships. If you want me to be responsible, Mom, you're going to have to trust me first. I can't fly if you don't let me out of the nest."
He grinned his best Osmond grin. "We could start it off as a trial. One semester. If my grades don't improve, you can put me back in the dorms."
"That's... very reasonable... I guess..."
"I've really matured here. I've made friends, raised my self-esteem, stopped dressing like a pallbearer. Give me a chance to show you how far I've come. Please, Mom."
She sighed. "Fine. But it's a trial. One semester."
"I won't let you down, Mom," he grinned, kissing her cheek.
Nora rubbed her cheek in amazement. "I'll transfer the money into your account when I get home. I still can't believe I'm agreeing to this."
"You won't regret it for a second. C'mon, I'll walk you over to the campfire."
***
Chandler slipped into Sick Bay, guitar case in hand. He crossed to Phoebe's bed and sat down on the edge.
"How'd it go?" she hissed.
"Perfection," he whispered back.
"Wow," she laughed. "I have a sugar daddy. I always wanted one of those. Well, that wasn't Dan."
"Don't worry about anything," Chandler said. "You just puke. I'm taking care of it."
She fingered the collar of his polo shirt and laughed. "Look at you, all yuppie. All you need is a sweatervest."
"I actually have some at home."
"You're like this sexy... miniature... accountant."
"Gotta go play," Chandler said. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He waited until the nurse had turned her back, then gave Phoebe a quick kiss, and strode out the door.
--------------------------
To be continued...
