At eight o'clock that night I looked up at the door and waited for Chandler to walk into the bar. I waited and I hoped that he wouldn't. I hoped his friends had gotten through to him and he no longer needed that bottle of JD that waited for him there with me. As the clock continued to tick away the minutes I slowly began to smile. He hadn't shown up and the more time that passed the bigger my smile became. At ten o'clock Frankie finally noticed it and grinned at me.
"What are you so happy about?" he asked, as I filled out an order.
"We lost a customer," I answered, nodding to the empty stool at the end of the bar.
"Jack Daniels?"
"Yup," I said, smiling as I turned away.
In those few moments I had my back to the door everything changed. When I turned back around Chandler stood just inside the bar, his eyes trying to find me in the dim lightly.
My heart was torn between sorrow and joy at seeing him. I wanted him to be at home with the ones that he loved, with the people who needed him the way that he needed them. I also wanted to see him though. I wanted to see those blue eyes and hear his voice.
"Guess we didn't lose one after all," Frankie said.
I didn't answer him or point myself out to Chandler. I simply made the drinks for the people who ordered them. In fact, I didn't go anywhere near him all night. I wasn't avoiding him. Just trying to figure out how to get him out of my bar without getting him out of my life. Just before the bar closed Frankie caught my attention one last time as the customers began to drift out.
"He bought that bottle when he came in. Take a look at it," he said, nodding his head toward the end of the bar where Chandler sat. I glanced toward Chandler and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat next to him. It was only about one fourth of the way empty. He had barely drunk anything compared to previous nights.
"Think maybe you had more of an effect on him then we thought," Frankie said, walking away. As the last customer left the bar, Frankie left his place from behind the bar. I turned and smiled at him. "What's he doing here, Frankie?"
"He said he's just waiting for you to get done."
I smiled and continued to clean up. I locked the door, closed the blinds, and set about cleaning up. I acted as if I was alone like I usually was pretending Chandler wasn't sitting on that stool.
"Are you angry with me?" Chandler finally asked twenty minutes later, breaking the silence.
I stopped mid circle as I wiped off a table and looked over at him. He sat still perched on his stool, the almost full bottle next to him, his eyes watching my every move, and his hands holding on to the edge of the bar, his knuckles white.
"I'm not angry with you. How can I be? You haven't done anything wrong," I answered, shaking my head sadly.
"You won't talk to me. You won't even look at me. I had to have done something," he argued.
"Chandler, let go of the bar. You're knuckles are white and it's scaring me," I said, watching his fingers dig into the wood. He looked down and seemed surprised by the sight of his own hands. Quickly he let go and moved away. "I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?" I asked quietly.
"For scaring you. For scaring the guys, the kids, myself, my family. For not knowing how to live the rest of my life without her smile and her laughter. For not knowing how to end a day outside of a bar without her magic and her energy. For not knowing how to sleep through a night without holding you because my dreams are filled with nightmares of being without her," he answered, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he lost himself once again in the pain.
I tossed down the rag in my hand and grabbed my bag from behind the bar. I would finish the clean up tomorrow. Right now Chandler needed me more than the empty shelves and dirty bar top did.
"Come on," I said, taking his shaky, cold hand in my own.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Home. We are going home and then I'm going to call you're friends and you are going to talk to them," I answered, locking the door behind us. I looked at him. "It's time to let go, Chandler."
"I don't want to lose her, Joey."
"I don't want you too, either. I just want you to let go of the pain and the fear and there's only one way to do it."
"How?" he asked.
"By letting the ones who still love her back in. Let them show you how to hold on and let go."
"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom."
"Shakespeare? Why quote that sonnet?" I asked when he finished.
"Seemed fitting," was all he said as he took my hand in his again.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye on the cab ride home. He stared out the window at the darkened city. He still held my hand and I gave it a gentle squeeze to get his attention. He turned his eyes toward me.
"I met Alex when I was nineteen. I had realized I was gay long before that, but I hadn't told anyone yet. And one day he swept me off my feet before I ever told him my name. He made that transition in my life so much easier, I was in college then too. We shared a sign language class together. I didn't mean to take it, there was an error on my roster, I wanted mime for my acting career, heh, but I couldn't change it. It's a good thing I couldn't, I would have never met him. By our second date I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life loving him. He was magic and he made me believe in myself. He was like my star in the night. Like Monica was for you," I added.
"What's it like to sleep at night without the nightmares of losing him?" Chandler asked softly.
"He died just before my twenty-first birthday. For nearly a year the nightmares haunted me. I never closed my eyes they were so horrible. It took time. It took a lot of time before I could sleep and not see his lifeless body. I finally got to a point where my sleep was filled with joyous memories and hopeful dreams. Alex was always going to love me like I was always going to love him. I would never see his smile again but I knew I was someone who would always make him smile," I said, the corners of my own mouth lifting in a happy memory.
"She understood me like no one else ever has. She didn't look at me as if trying to define me. She looked at me as if I needed no definition. She never expected, she just accepted. I've only known one other person like that," Chandler confessed.
"Who?" I asked quietly.
"You."
The cab stopped outside his house and we climbed out. It was almost three o'clock in the morning by then.
"Who do you want me to call first?" I asked as he unlocked the door.
"What do you mean?" he questioned, looking at me with troubled eyes.
"The guys. Who do you want me to call over first?" "None of them, Joey. It's three in the morning. They are at home asleep in their wife's or husband's arms down the hall from their children. They don't need to have you call and drag them from their homes for me," Chandler argued as we walked into his house. "Maybe they don't need to be dragged from them, but they would willingly come to you if you needed them. Chandler, you need them. They love you and they want to help. Now who first?" I demanded, putting my foot down on the subject. "Ross. Call Ross and Rachel," he answered quietly, sinking into his sofa.
"Do not go gentle into that good night/Old age should burn and rave at the close of day," I quoted.
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," he finished looking up at me.
"You know Dylan Thomas?" I asked, kneeling next to him.
"Shakespeare, Thomas, new and old. I live in books. They hold dreams and answers. Things I could have never imagined without them. I never read much until she died, I never needed answers before then." he explained.
"Answers?" I questioned.
"A few," he said, looking away.
"But not the ones you need to know, not the ones that would ease the pain," I supplied.
" I know you mean well, Joey, but nothing's going to ease this. I love her too much," he said, standing up.
"I'm not trying to get you to stop loving her. I'm trying to get you to move on with you're life while you love her!" I screamed, standing up as well. He looked at me, his eyes round with surprise.
"You don't yell," he said quietly.
"How do you know what I do, Chandler? Since the first night you passed out in front of the Lonely Star it's all been about you. Your pain, your fear, your nightmares. And that's fine. You need the attention and the support and the love that will get you past this, but don't stand there and tell me what I do and don't do when you have no idea who I am," I yelled at him.
"I know you're a bartender and an actor, I know you were in love, I know… I know… I know," but he couldn't finish, he couldn't go on.
"You don't know," I corrected. "And I don't need you to know. But you need me to know it hurts and you're scared. And you need me to know you need someone to help you. That someone is me and the three people on their way over here."
"How do you know what I need?" he asked.
"Because, Chandler, you're going to die if you don't let go and I'm not going to let that happen," I answered.
"Why do you care so much?"
"Because I can't stand to see a someone so tortured, because I care about you, Chandler," I admitted. Chandler sat back down on the sofa and I curled up at his feet.
"What kind of name is Chandler?" I asked the night.
"It means candle maker," he answered with a bitter laugh.
"And you don't think it fits?"
"Oh it fits, it clearly explains how insignificant and pathetic my life has been, but it's not near as good as Jack Daniels."
"Do you think that your life is insignificant and pathetic because you couldn't help Monica?" I supplied, saying what I knew he was thinking.
"I let her die, Joey. I just accepted it," he said, his voice sad and quiet.
"Who made you God, Chandler?" I asked, drifting into a sleep I hadn't realized I was fighting.
"Is that him?"
"He's the one that did this?"
"Why is curled up at his feet?"
The whispered voices drew me from my sleep. I listened with my eyes closed as I tried to place myself. I was on the floor curled up against Chandler's legs, his hand on my shoulder. Slowly I opened my eyes and focused on the three people in the doorway. I attempted to ease away from Chandler but he tightened his grip on me. I reached up and took his hand in mine and gently eased away. He held my hand for dear life it felt like and I squeezed gently to reassure him in sleep. His grip lessened just slightly.
Then I smiled up at the three strangers in the doorway who stood watching us. "You must be Chandler's friends," I said, my eyes moving from one face to the next."Joey?" the man asked tentatively.
"Ross?" I guessed. He smiled suddenly and nodded before quickly introducing the other two.
"Is he all right?" Phoebe asked.
"For the moment." I answered. I eased my hand from Chandler's and ushered his friends into the kitchen. "So what do we do?" Rachel asked, looking at me.
"Why are you asking me?" I questioned in return.
"Well you called us. We figured you knew what we should do to help him," Phoebe explained.
"We assumed you could help us get him back," Ross added.
"I can help him let go if he lets me. I can't get him back for you though. I don't know who he was before Monica died. I have to tell you though. The chances of you ever getting that man completely back are slim to none. He'll heal, but he'll always be healing. Like the three of you. You are moving on but you will never be the people, the people you were before this woman," I explained. In silence, they exchanged looks I couldn't begin to define. Then slowly, they turned their attention back to me. "We will never be who we were before her, Joey, but not because we lost her," Ross said.
"Because we still have her," Rachel finished.
"Yeah, Monica didn't die young," Phoebe added, a slow smile starting at her mouth and spreading to her eyes.
"She'll live forever," Ross finished, putting his arm around Rachel.
I watched in stunned silence as these three people whose friend was suffering so much had discovered a precious gift in life in loving the same woman. What made them so different then the man who slept in the other room?
"He's regretting something. That's where his pain and his fear are coming from," I told them.
"What though?" Rachel asked.
"He was in love with her," Ross answered. The collective gasps signified that Phoebe and Rachel had never suspected.
Chandler must have loved her a great deal to keep hidden emotions that could have tested their friendship.
"But she was Richard's wife," Rachel argued.
"Which is why none of us ever knew," Phoebe explained, suddenly understanding.
"She loved him so much, and you all loved him too. I didn't want to lose you guys too."
I turned to see Chandler's sleepy eyes watching us from the doorway. I watched and waited, wondering what his reaction would be to us talking about him.
"Chandler, man," Ross stared, but Chandler held his hand up to silence him.
"I don't know what the three of you want from me but I don't think I'm capable of giving it anymore," Chandler said.
"And I think you are, but you have to let go of some things and grab hold of some others," I argued.
"We miss you, Chandler. Please just try," Phoebe pleaded. He stood silent, looking at the faces of the people who loved him.
Slowly, he sank to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. "She's in my dreams," he began. "Alive and beautiful and reaching out to me. The same way she always did. But when I try to touch her she turns away. She's walking so slowly, never looking back. I'm running as hard as I can, screaming for her, begging her not to leave me. Most nights I wake up still screaming for her. Other nights the dream just fades out and I feel her in my arms," he confessed, tears rolling down his face.
"What changes?" Rachel asked.
"He holds on to me," I answered, kneeling beside the man who was consuming my life.
"You can't catch her because you never told her you loved her," Ross spoke up. I looked up at the man and waited. "You can't catch her but you can't let her go because you never told her you were in love with her. You're regretting that and that's why you can't move on," he explained.
I watched in quiet understanding as Ross knelt beside his life long friend.
"How could I tell her?" Chandler said, crying still. "She was madly in love with Richard. I didn't want you all to hate me."
"We would never do that. We loved her, Chandler, but we love you just as much. All of us," Ross corrected. "She may have loved Richard but we were her magic, her strength. We were what kept her living. We are what keep her alive. For ourselves, for Monica, for Star and Gabriel."
"I wanted her to love me though!" Chandler screamed.
"She did," Ross answered.
"She loved me, but I wanted her to be in love with me. I wanted her to reach for me in the end!" Chandler continued to yell.
"You know what I regret, Chandler, I regret not keeping my sister's last request of me." Surprised by his friend's chosen words, Chandler sat in silence staring at him.
"What was it?" I asked, hoping his next words would heal some of Chandler's pain.
"The last thing Monica ever asked me to do was take care of you. She knew you were going to have a hard time dealing with her death. She was worried about you. I let her down though. All she asked was for me to take care of you and I let her down, I lied to her when I promised her I would," Ross confessed.
"How could she have known I would hurt this much?" Chandler asked softly.
"Because she knew you loved her that much, Chandler. You never said the words, but Monica knew. She knew."
"She knows," I corrected, taking Chandler's hand in mine. "She knows and she always will. She's not gone, Chandler. Her body is but her love is forever."
"I want her body back though," he said, his tears coming once again. "I miss her smile and her laughter and her eyes."
"Star has Monica's eyes and Gabriel has her smile," Rachel spoke up. Chandler stared in silence as his friend's words sunk in.
"Chandler, tomorrow is Mike's birthday. I'm throwing him a party. Everyone is going go be there. Please come," Phoebe begged.
"We'll see," Chandler quietly answered.
"Please."
"I'll try, Pheebs, I'll try. That's all I can promise."
"That's all I'm asking," Phoebe said, a smile touching her lips.
"Can you guys give me some time alone?" Chandler asked, his beautiful blue eyes swollen and red.
"I'll walk out with you," I said, starting to stand. Chandler's grip on my hand tightened.
"Stay please," he whispered.
"All right, but let me walk them to the door. I'll be right back," I promised. He nodded and slowly released my hand. I walked his three friends to the door. "Who are you?" Rachel asked, looking up at me with amazement in her eyes.
"I'm just a bartender in a bar he walked into, Rachel." I smiled gently at her. "with the scars of a broken heart."
"Whatever you're doing man, please keep it up, we really appreciate it. This is the most he's ever spoken to us about Monica since she died," Ross said shaking my hand.
"Thank you Joey, you're welcome to come tomorrow too. Anyone who would go through all this and help Chandler is a friend of ours as well," said Phoebe, "I hope you can help him, since he won't let us help him."
"I hope so. I can't walk away from him till I know he's all right. He won't let me," I answered.
I closed the door behind them and made my way back to the kitchen. Chandler still sat curled on the floor.
"Chandler, it's almost six o'clock. Let's get you to bed before I go home," I said, holding my hand out to him. With my help, he rose to his feet and looked into my eyes.
"Don't leave me, Joey. I don't know what to do when you aren't here. There's a whole other room you can have rent free if you just promise not to leave me," he begged.
I gently touched his face and smiled softly at his offer.
"Part of you healing, Chandler, is learning to lived without a crutch. That includes me and the Jack Daniels. I will always be your friend and I will always be here when you need me. I have a home and a life though, and I can't just ignore it till you don't need me anymore," I answered him.
"What about my nightmares? I can't sleep without you, Joey," he argued.
"No, Chandler. You can't sleep without Monica. My body is just a physical replacement in your dreams." In silence, I took his hand and walked him to his bed. I laid him down and tucked him in as if he were a little child. "When she appears tonight, Chandler, ask her if she knows. Her answer will ease your dreams," I promised. I kissed his forehead and stood to leave. At the door he stopped me.
"Joey," he called out. I turned to him. "Do you believe in second chances in life?" he asked.
"I believe you get all the chances you need in life until you get it right. You're getting another chance, Chandler. Will you get it right this time?"
And with those words I left his room and his house.