Kind of Blue
Coffeehouse Blues
The people two tables over were talking at a level slightly above the rest of the Sunday afternoon crowd. She could hear everything they were saying, and found her irritation raising with every syllable.
"So I finish my drink, and the girl is all over me, man! I mean, she was grabbing at me before we could even hail the cab! So I'm like, 'Baby, let's keep it in my pants until we get in the backseat', ya know? But she's just aching for it, and I'm halfway there before we even pile into the car…"
Monica shook her head, and smiled sardonically. The man clearly wanted to tell this story to everyone in the vicinity.
It wasn't the noise that bothered her; in fact, the white noise of several voices, in simultaneous, hushed conversation—the type that typically filled the small Village coffeehouse—was in a way comforting. Like most people that lived in New York City, she wouldn't be able to function normally without the crowds. It was a way of life, one that took getting used to, and one that eventually grew on you.
But all it took was one person, speaking above the average level of conversation, to kill the white noise, and distract her from her novel. Sighing heavily, she thumped her book closed and stormed out of the coffeehouse.
"Man, she was something else. I can't quite remember her name, but now I get hard every time I see a cab! HA! Get it? Hey—hello? Chandler!"
"Huh? Oh, right, a cab, got it," Chandler smiled uncomfortably, and scanned the coffeehouse with a nervous eye. As much as he loved his best friend and roommate, he could never quite get used to Joey's crude remarks.
It was bad enough that he had to sit through Joey's way-too-detailed accounts of his nightly escapades—a constant reminder that Joey got more women in a week than Chandler got all year—hell, the whole damn decade.
To make matters worse, Joey had no problem relaying these details in public—in fact, Chandler got the sense that Joey got some kind of perverted thrill out of it.
The story today had been particularly bad, and Chandler had watched as several people around them scooted further away from the duo. His eyes had fallen on a pretty dark haired woman, who was so obviously disgusted with the story that she had gotten up and left—her irritation shining through.
His mind had been on that woman when Joey waved him back to reality.
"What the hell is wrong with you today anyway?" Joey asked through a mouthful of blueberry scone, "I mean, you're so out of it."
"Huh? Oh, I dunno, tired I guess," Chandler mumbled absently.
"Yeah, well wake up and smile dude—I got you a date for Friday!"
Chandler snapped to attention.
"Wh-what? Why?"
"Because it's Valentine's Day, and I'm sick of you whining about how there are no good women out there. I've dated half of Manhattan, and lemme tell ya—some of them are pretty good!"
"You sure it's only half?" Chandler muttered under his breath. Out loud he said, "Look, I don't think I'm ready for a blind date, okay?"
"Dude," Joey leaned forward, and looked at Chandler crossly, "It's been like, a year. You've gotta let her go, okay?"
Chandler sighed, and sat back in his seat.
"It's only been eleven and a half months," he mumbled sadly.
"Chandler, she left. She's gone, and you need to accept that," Joey said reverently.
"Yeah, well why should I even try then? I mean, what if I fall in love again and then the woman gets sick of me and leaves? I don't want to go through that again!"
"What happened was not your fault, okay? You know what she was like before you even started dating her! She was always a little…flaky."
"Don't start with that, Joe—" Chandler pointed his finger at Joey sharply.
"Oh come on! I'm sick of this conversation! Aren't you sick of this? Let it go! Phoebe is gone, Chandler, and she isn't coming back. You can't just love her and pine over her, and will her back into your life! She met that weird scientist-dude, and she moved on. You need to too!" Joey stood up and tossed his napkin on the table, before storming out of the coffeehouse.
Chandler sighed, and stared at his hands. He knew it was time to move on. He knew that he was ready. But he wasn't sure he was willing to take the risk, so he hid behind the grieving boyfriend façade; he let everyone believe that he wasn't over Phoebe.
Because it was easier than admitting that he was too afraid to try again.
*
Monica walked into her apartment, and tossed her book onto the kitchen table. There was no way she was gonna be able to concentrate when it was so dead-quiet.
She pondered the idea of a roommate again, but quickly shook off the notion. She was way too neurotic, and she had totally hated her last roommate. Not that Janice was a bad person or anything. She was just so—irritating. She laughed like a hyena—no, no, it was more like a machine gun. And she had the worst taste! Monica shuddered as she recalled the awful leopard skin lamp that had adorned the back corner of the living room.
But Janice had gotten engaged, and had thankfully moved to the other end of the city. And Monica had never bothered to replace her.
But ever since her brother Ross had moved up to Massachusetts, Monica felt isolated—and lonely. She rarely talked to her neighbors—a weird hippie couple with about fourteen cats—and she didn't really get along with her parents—or her coworkers. So she spent most of her time in the park, or in the small coffeehouse downstairs, reading novels and short stories, and dreaming of a different life—not a drastically different one, just a…richer, fuller one. A life full of friends and—
Love? Maybe love. She loved the idea of being in love, but she figured that if it was meant to be, then it would just…happen. Like in the movies or something.
What was wrong with wanting a fairy tale, Disney ending?
What was wrong with happily ever after?
It could happen.
*
Friday
"So I just couldn't take it anymore! I mean, I know a lot of men bring their work home with them, but I just think that if you are an OBGYN, then you should leave it all in the office, you know?"
Chandler stared at the woman Joey had set him up with blankly, and nodded robotically whenever he heard an inflection that most likely meant his date had asked him a question. What had Joey done to him? This woman had spent the past two hours talking about her ex-husband. And as if that wasn't bad enough, she had the most irritating voice in the Tri-state area. What was her name again? Janine? Julie? God, whatever it was, he just wanted it to stop talking!
"So then he tells me that we can't have sex on weeknights, because of his job! I mean, can you imagine, no sex for five nights?"
I can imagine no sex for five years after the image you've just pasted in my head, sweetheart.
"So anyway, Chaaandler, tell me about yourself."
"Oh, there isn't much to tell." I'm borderline suicidal at the moment…but tell me more about YOU.
"Hey dude, we're takin' off," Joey and the date that was apparently Super-Glued to him stood up.
Make that borderline homicidal.
"What? You can't leave me—us here!"
"Dude, you'll be fine!" Joey leaned down to whisper in Chandler's ear, "She hasn't had sex in months—she's a sure thing!"
Chandler shot Joey a death glare, as the latter half carried his date out of the restaurant.
"So Chaaaandler, what do you do for a living?"
Chandler looked at Janice, and smiled wickedly.
"I'm a dentist."
*
Yes, I know I have other fics, but I promised a special one for Sal. This one will be pretty short, since I already know how it ends… ;P
A