Chapter 10
Rachel: Hello?
Hospital Worker: Hello, is this Rachel Green?
Rachel: Yes, this is she.
Hospital Worker: Are you sitting down?
Rachel: Why? Oh god what happened, oh my god please, please tell me.
She took a seat on one of the counter stools.
Hospital Worker: There was an accident at around 9pm outside of Serendipity, the restaurant on 21st street.
Rachel [feeling her legs go weak, in a whisper]: No...
Hospital Worker: The restaurants owner said there was a shot fired at 8:56pm, and he came out to find a man's body lying on the pavement a little to the left of the doorway. We opened the man's wallet, and found your name listed in his address book. We wanted to call you to let you know that Joey Tribbiani's condition is critical, and he is currently in the intensive care section of the Hospital.
Rachel: Was anyone else there...when they found him.
Hospital Worker: No, the restaurant owner said that the shooter must have run off after firing at Mr. Tribbiani
Rachel [so softly that no one could here her, a tone of disgust is sensed in her voice]: Ross.
Hospital Worker: I'm sorry, what?
Rachel [hastily]: Nothing, nothing
Hospital Worker: Okay, well we just wanted to let you know. We also need you to come down and fill out some forms regarding Mr. Tribbiani's health, is that alright?
Rachel: Yea...yea that's fine...I'll be down there as soon as I can.
Hospital Worker: Thank you very much.
Rachel hung up the phone, almost in a trance. Ross had shot Joey. Her Joey. No, it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. She had to get down to that hospital and find out for herself. She glanced down at what she was wearing. Joey's sweatpants and his Knicks sweatshirt. It didn't matter; she just needed to get down there as soon as possible.
She ran out the door, only stopping to put on her shoes and lock the door. She kept running: down the stairs, out the door. She didn't bother to hail a cab. It was faster to walk. There was a crack of thunder, and then the heavens opened up, unleashing a mass of rain onto the city of New York, and Rachel. The weather seemed appropriate for an evening such as this. The rain only pushed Rachel to move faster. As she ran, the events of that evening started to hit her. Joey. Shot at. Might die. In the intensive care section. She gasped, as the tears began to pour out of her eyes, mixing with the rain. She tripped and fell over flat on the ground, slipping in the rain and knocking her leg hard against a metro bus sign. She got up, and kept running, ignoring the gash that had appeared on her leg from the sign post, and the bruise forming around her eye. She finally reached the hospital, shoved open the door, and ran to the receptionist desk.
Rachel: Hello?
Hospital Worker: Hello, is this Rachel Green?
Rachel: Yes, this is she.
Hospital Worker: Are you sitting down?
Rachel: Why? Oh god what happened, oh my god please, please tell me.
She took a seat on one of the counter stools.
Hospital Worker: There was an accident at around 9pm outside of Serendipity, the restaurant on 21st street.
Rachel [feeling her legs go weak, in a whisper]: No...
Hospital Worker: The restaurants owner said there was a shot fired at 8:56pm, and he came out to find a man's body lying on the pavement a little to the left of the doorway. We opened the man's wallet, and found your name listed in his address book. We wanted to call you to let you know that Joey Tribbiani's condition is critical, and he is currently in the intensive care section of the Hospital.
Rachel: Was anyone else there...when they found him.
Hospital Worker: No, the restaurant owner said that the shooter must have run off after firing at Mr. Tribbiani
Rachel [so softly that no one could here her, a tone of disgust is sensed in her voice]: Ross.
Hospital Worker: I'm sorry, what?
Rachel [hastily]: Nothing, nothing
Hospital Worker: Okay, well we just wanted to let you know. We also need you to come down and fill out some forms regarding Mr. Tribbiani's health, is that alright?
Rachel: Yea...yea that's fine...I'll be down there as soon as I can.
Hospital Worker: Thank you very much.
Rachel hung up the phone, almost in a trance. Ross had shot Joey. Her Joey. No, it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. She had to get down to that hospital and find out for herself. She glanced down at what she was wearing. Joey's sweatpants and his Knicks sweatshirt. It didn't matter; she just needed to get down there as soon as possible.
She ran out the door, only stopping to put on her shoes and lock the door. She kept running: down the stairs, out the door. She didn't bother to hail a cab. It was faster to walk. There was a crack of thunder, and then the heavens opened up, unleashing a mass of rain onto the city of New York, and Rachel. The weather seemed appropriate for an evening such as this. The rain only pushed Rachel to move faster. As she ran, the events of that evening started to hit her. Joey. Shot at. Might die. In the intensive care section. She gasped, as the tears began to pour out of her eyes, mixing with the rain. She tripped and fell over flat on the ground, slipping in the rain and knocking her leg hard against a metro bus sign. She got up, and kept running, ignoring the gash that had appeared on her leg from the sign post, and the bruise forming around her eye. She finally reached the hospital, shoved open the door, and ran to the receptionist desk.