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5 Days Later...Thursday
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Carver busted through the front door of the apartment with a vengeance, cursing under his breath and throwing his suitcase down in the middle of the living room.
"Goddamn fucking delayed flight. Rainstorms my ass," he murmured coldly, shaking his head and tossing his keys onto the coffee table. He didn't even look up at Ross, who'd been sitting on the sofa this whole time, watching his enraged roommate's little episode unfold. Instead, Carver proceeded over to the sink in the kitchen.
"You alright?" Ross called.
"Yeah," he shouted back, over the running faucet. The clinking and clanking of glassware and pans could be heard, intermingled in the commotion. "My flight out of Denver just got delayed like 3 fucking hours. Why my whole goddamn family decided to move to California, I'll never know. It's hotter than balls out there."
He emerged from the kitchen looking visibly stressed out, his hair on end and his shirt hanging untidily out one side of his pants. He was gulping a glass of water with one hand on his hip, his Adam's Apple bobbing.
"All that for a glass of water?" Ross asked. Carver chose to ignore his question.
"So how have you been, man?" he instead inquired. Ross shrugged.
"Alright," Ross muttered, turning his gaze down and reaching for the remote in hopes of progressing from the topic of 'how he'd been'. The last thing he wanted to talk about was 'how he'd been'. Carver looked skeptical.
"No way, man, something's up. I can tell. What happened?"
Ross sighed. He didn't have the energy for this--he really didn't. His mind hadn't been freed from this unremitting, frenzied downward spiral of depression and desperation for days; 5, to be exact--the number since he'd last seen her. He'd only changed his clothes or showered once, and even that had been over 48 hours ago. He was sitting before his roommate in a pair of torn, faded black sweat pants and a stretched-out, stained undershirt. He hadn't shaved in over a week. His hair was spiked with the greasy sweat of apathy.
And his hand was bandaged.
Did it really look to Carver like he wanted to talk about 'how he'd been'? Before he had to answer, though, his friend did it for him.
"It's Rachel, isn't it?"
Ross was a bit taken aback by Carver's use of her first name. In the months since he'd met her, he'd only ever heard his friend refer to Rachel as 'that girl' or 'some chick'. 'Great,' he thought. 'He learns her name as soon as she leaves. How appropriate.' Instead of voicing his snarky cynicisms, however, Ross averted his eyes and nodded, gulping hard.
"Yeah..." he trailed off, pausing dramatically, not even knowing himself if he was going to finish. He did. "She's leaving."
"What do you mean 'she's leaving'?" Carver asked, half from confusion and half from disbelief. Ross looked at him, agitated to even be having this conversation, and even more so that Carver was obviously intent on dragging out ever heartbreaking detail for all it was worth.
"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? I mean she's leaving! She got a better job offer in California. She might as well already be gone," he scornfully huffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. This conversation was giving him a migraine. And that was even before his roommate dared make the harshest, most gruesome, disconnect gesture possible for a situation like this...
Carver laughed. It was actually more like a disbelieving, condescending chuckle. Shaking his head, he rolled back on his heels. Ross looked up at him with incredulity. Who was this man? Was he really laughing?
"Hey, what's so goddamn funny?" Ross asked harshly, the words coming out edgy, like a bark. He clenched his jaw, prepared to punch him if need be. Something inside him was contracting...pulsing...buckling. He was fucking laughing!
"I just don't get you, man! I mean, here you are, a bigger mess than I've ever seen you--including when you divorced Carol--and what is it all for? Some girl you barely even know!"
"But I do know her, Carver! And you don't have to get it! I'm not asking you to get it! She's...she's..."
"What is she?" his roommate asked sarcastically. "Because I'll tell you what she's not! She's not worth all this bullshit you've been putting yourself through forever! Yeah, she's hot as shit, and she 'understands' you or whatever, but she's just some girl!"
Ross thought about punching him. Not seriously--the sentiment was only there for a fraction of a second before miscarrying in a bloody death of defeat. He'd barely had enough time to form a first before he'd unclenched and his shoulders had dropped. He plopped back down onto the couch, seemingly overcome. But he was not. He was simply just not going to waste anymore time even pretending to try and make this man understand--understand the icy, empty void of this love. Of her love. In a way, Ross felt sorry for him. He'd never know.
Sensing he'd crossed some sort of boundary, Carver came to sit beside his roommate on the couch.
"Look, I'm sorry, man. I just hate seeing you like this over something I can't understand." Ross nodded.
"You're right; you don't understand."
"Fair enough," Carver nodded.
Silence.
"So what are you going to do?"
"What do you mean, 'what am I going to do'? I'm not going to do anything! This is her life! This is what makes her happy!"
"Huh, that's funny," Carver stated simply, "I thought you were what made her happy." Ross looked over at his roommate in utter disbelief. "Yeah, that's right," Carver continued. "I'm not completely heartless." Ross smiled before turning his attention back down into his lap.
"It doesn't matter. I can't interfere with her life."
"Wow..." Carver muttered, leaning back on the sofa and shaking his head.
"What?"
"Nothing...I just never thought I'd live to see the day when Ross Geller-- romantic extraordinaire-- would let a girl just walk away without a fight."
Ross didn't know what to say. Carver was right. He wasn't an aggressive guy, or even an especially impressive one, but he was competitive and he didn't like to loose, especially when it came to women. Especially when it came to this woman. In all honesty, he couldn't really see himself just rolling over and giving in. He'd never been able to do it before, and all those times seemed like insignificant scrimmages in comparison with this one.
"It's just too big, you know? I mean...it's her whole life. It's her future."
"Maybe this is bigger," Carver mused. "Maybe you could be her future."
Maybe...
Carver exited in silence, patting his friend once on the back before retrieving his suitcase and disappearing into his room, leaving a very confused, unmoving Ross alone in the dark on the sofa.
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"Well, that's the last of it," Rachel announced, stranding up and rubbing her lower back from being bent over and carrying so many boxes all day. "All packed." She sighed with relief, but also noticeable disappointment. Erica perceived this, and immediately understood. She came to stand beside her friend in the middle of the now-empty, desolate bedroom.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, rubbing Rachel's back. Trying her best to look confused, but failing, Rachel shrugged.
"For what? I don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you wanted him to come," Erica admitted. Rachel sighed and shook her head.
"God, I hate the way things ended between us. I just--I can't imagine never seeing him again, you know? I don't...I don't know," she finally confessed, sitting down on the floor beside the last, lonely box.
"What don't you know?" Erica encouraged, taking a seat beside her. Rachel held out her hands in confusion, shrugging dramatically in her patented Rachel way.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I mean, what're you supposed to do in a situation like this? I either stay here with him--this guy who, really, when you think about it, I've only actually known for, like, a few months--and lose what could possibly be the best career move of my life...or I go...and lose the one person I might actually am supposed to be with." Hanging her shoulders in defeat, Rachel looked down at the floor and shook her head. "There's no right answer, you know?"
"I know," Erica agreed, nodding. "But maybe that's the point."
"What?" Rachel asked, wincing her eyes, confused. How could that be the point?
"I just mean maybe this is supposed to be the first really adult decision you have to make. You're 25. It's not high school anymore, you know? This--this could be it."
"Oh, well, that's very reassuring, thank you," Rachel quipped sarcastically.
"Sorry, it's the truth. It usually sucks. You don't have to like it; you just have to accept it."
"I do?" Rachel rhetorically whined, wrinkling her nose and pouting. She laid her head in her hands and sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "God, this is impossible."
"Well, maybe you wont have to decide," Erica offered, rubbing her back.
"What do you mean? Of course I do! No matter what I do, I'll be making a decision. I'll be giving something huge up."
"Maybe he'll make the decision for you..."
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End Chapter 11. RESOLVED in Chapter 12.