I'm really cranking this sucker out, aren't I? I think I might have some concept of where this is going now...maybe...possibly...we'll see. Until it starts manifesting itself, though, just enjoy. I think the subject matter is going to be rather stereotypical, which I almost hesitate to do, since no author wants their story to be stereotypical, but I'll try and spin it in a new light. There are only so many things that can happen and so many different channels of progression after a fairly conventional couple in their 30's gets together and has a kid, though, right?
In short, you've probably read it all before, but maybe mine will be more fun than most :-)
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"Hey!" Rachel cheered, reaching out and pulling her best friend into a massive bear hug. "Oh, It's been so long since I've seen you!"
"Sweety, we saw each other like 3 days ago," Monica reminded her, swaying playfully from side-to-side, still engaged in the hug. Rachel pulled away.
"Whatever! It still feels like an eternity. Oh, I just don't think I'm ever going to get used to not seeing you guys every day. Where's Chandler?"
"He's in the living room with the twins," Monica noted, pointing back behind her. "Where's my brother?"
"He's wake up Emma. Apparently he thinks he does it 'less obtrusively than me'," Rachel informed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
The two women stepped inside the house. Monica had decorated it beautifully and it now had a very modern, up-beat feel to it. She'd even painted the living room purple in honor of the old apartment. They rounded a bend to their right and found Chandler sitting of the hardwood floor with Jack and Erica, doing something with markers and construction paper.
"Chandler, what did I tell you about coloring in here?"
"Don't worry, I'm watching them, babe," he assured.
"It's not them I'm worried about! Have you seen him try to stay inside the lines?" she asked Rachel, earning her a chuckle from her best friend. Just then, Ross entered the room behind them, holding a very sleepy, cranky Emma.
"Sorry it took us a while. Someone's a little fussy."
"Aw, it's okay," Monica cooed, reaching out for her niece. "This cutie can be fussy anytime she wants, can't she?" she baby-talked to the sweet-faced girl. She rocked Emma and patted her hair.
"What're we having?" Ross asked, putting his hand against his stomach. "I'm starved."
"Sautéed lamb, caramelized mashed potatoes and Greek salad," Monica answered, leading the other 3 back into the kitchen. They let the children play on the floor while they sat down at the rectangular table.
"So how's the apartment?" Monica asked, folding her napkin onto her lap. There was a brief interlude of awkward silence and confused stares before she clarified. "I mean your apartment..."
"Oh, um, it's great! Yeah, you know, we just finished unpacking the other day," Rachel nodded.
"How's the TV working out for you, Ross?" Chandler asked with a smile, nodding at his friend as if in some special "guy" terms.
"Did you know that thing COMES with TiVo? Yeah, the other day? I recorded the Nicks/Pistons game WHILE watching the Discovery Channel documentary on Japanese-American Internment prisons from.."
"You mean I bought you that thing so you could TAPE a Nick's game?" Chandler asked, astonished and shaking his head. "I KNEW I should have kept it for myself.
"Okay, children, settle down," Rachel teased. "Mon, how are things coming along with the restaurant?"
Right after they'd moved and the twins were born, Monica had decided to balance maintaining her chef job with an operation to open up her own restaurant. It was still in the development stages, but she was determined to make it happen.
"Oh, , um, I'm working with this architect from a firm Chandler's company collaborates with. He's so efficient! I love him!" she enthusiastically spurted out.
"Yes, a little TOO much, I think," Chandler quipped, deadpanning his face. Monica rolled her eyes.
"Quit it, Chandler! We've talked about this. Rachel, what is it about guys that makes them get like this whenever we even TALK to another man?"
"Got me," she shrugged, turning her head to see Ross throwing her a dirty look. She was obviously mocking him about Mark. "I think you can train them out of it," she considered, "...although there was this time at the grocery store a few weeks ago..."
"Hey," Ross intervened, dropping his fork onto his plate and getting immediately defensive, "you KNOW that guy was checking you out. He saw that I was obviously with you."
"Well it's not like I had a wedding band on or anything," Rachel reputed. Uh, oh. She immediately regretted the words as they left her mouth. The room got quiet and a thick, uncomfortable silence covered everything. You could cut the palpable tension with a knife. No one even moved for a good 10 seconds.
"Ross, listen, that's not what I-"
"No, I know," he nodded, failing miserably at concealing his defensiveness. He looked away, tightening his lips as if to stifle another comment. She tried to lay her hand on his, but he pulled away and backed his chair from the table. "Will you excuse me for a second?" They all watched him exit the kitchen before anyone spoke.
"Shit!" Rachel sighed, pounding the tabletop with the flat of her palm and rubbing her eyes. "God, that's so not what I meant."
"No, we know, honey," Monica sympathized, rubbing her friend's back. "I guess it's just a touchy subject."
"It is! That's why I can't believe I said it."
"Rach, we know. You were just teasing him and it slipped. I'm sure he's fine," Chandler tried his best to reassure.
"Oh, really? Is that why he left?" she asked, her voice cracking. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out a single tear that slid slowly down her cheek.
"If you want, I'll go talk to him," Chandler offered. Rachel didn't answer, but Monica nodded him ahead. He quietly snuck out, leaving the two women alone in the kitchen.
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Out on the front porch, Chandler found Ross standing at the top of the steps, gazing out over the front lawn and across the paralleled streets of suburbia. He was leaning against a support beam with his hands in his pockets. He looked pensive and serious, even from behind. Chandler moved to stand beside him, placing a hand on his back.
"Hey, man," he greeted. Ross nodded but continued to stare straight ahead. "You okay?"
"Ch'yeah," Ross scoffed, almost chuckling a bit, shaking his head and looking down at his feet. "Fan-fucking-tastic."
"Look, about what happened in there-"
"No," Ross stopped him, shaking his head and looking up. "No, don't make excuses. For her or for me. She's right. I fucked up."
"What?" Chandler asked confused.
"What do you mean 'what'?" he asked, stepping away from his friend and throwing a frustrated hand into the air. "Would you look at me? I'm 34 years old, I've been divorced 3 times-- the first two times because I was with the wrong women, and the third time because I was with the RIGHT woman but for the wrong reasons-- and I still can't just make the right decision." Both men were quiet for a moment-- Ross for a lack of words and Chandler for a lack of help. "What the hell's wrong with me, man?" he asked, finally sitting down on the front stoop.
"Nothing, 'wrong' with you," Chandler said, sitting beside his friend. Ross shook his head.
"No-- no, there HAS to be something wrong with me. What else could explain me having been with the woman I've loved since high school TWICE, already, and not having proposed even ONCE?"
"Fear? Perfectionism? Romanticism?" Chandler proposed. These possibilities did intrigue Ross, and he found it odd that he couldn't find an argument. "Look...Ross..." he continued, patting him on the back, "I think you and I both know it's not as easy as that."
"Yeah, but does Rachel know that?" he asked seriously, turning to look his friend in the eye. Chandler nodded.
"I'd be willing to bet so. She's a pretty smart girl, you know."
"I know," Ross agreed, nodding. "I just want it to be prefect, you know?"
"Yeah."
"I mean..." Ross paused, searching for the right words. He looked out over the infinite casing of front lawns, picket fences and street lights, considering his next sentence, "...how can anything be good enough for her?"
"Is that why you haven't proposed yet? You're worried you wont be able to do it well enough?"
"Yeah!" Ross answered exuberantly, as if that were obviously. "God, I mean, it's RACHEL! I was dreaming about the perfect way to propose to her before I'd had my first kiss...before my first girlfriend...before anything. She's it, Chandler. She's, like, more of an 'it' than most people get in their entire lives. She's so 'it' that I can't sleep sometimes thinking about it. She's...I don't even know," he surrendered, covering his face with his hands and sighing deeply.
"I know, man. Trust me, I know how you feel about her."
"So do I. That's the hardest part."
"Well, if it's any consolation, she really did feel terrible about what happened. She was almost in tears when I left."
"Gah, I didn't mean for that to happen," Ross insisted. "I should probably go talk to her but I feel like such an ass.."
"Well, I'm going to go back inside," Chandler announced, standing up and wiping off his pants. "Come on back whenever you feel up to it."
"Thanks, man."
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Chandler walked back inside to be greeted by his wife. She was clearing dishes from the table.
"Where is she?" he asked confusedly.
"In the bathroom. This was something, huh?"
"Tell me about it." He picked up a plate from the table and began helping her clean up.
"Is Ross okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine."
"What was the problem, do you know?"
"He's just really intimidated by the prospect of having to propose to her, which is understandable, I guess."
"Wow, Ross afraid of proposing?" Monica joked.
"I know, right?" he played along. "It is kind of daunting to think about, though."
"What is?"
"Well, just think about how long he's been in love with her for. You know, he told me he'd been planning this since before he'd even had his friend girlfriend, and I hadn't thought about it before, but he's right. Twenty years is a long time to want something. I guess now that he has it, he doesn't know what to do with it."
Just then, Rachel emerged from the bathroom, make-up touched up and looking fairly pulled-together. She smiled weakly.
"Will you guys watch Emma for a few minutes?" she asked, pointing towards the door implicitly. They nodded and smiled comfortingly. She made her way to the front of the house.
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The screen-door creaked as Rachel stepped out onto the porch. Ross was standing again, leaning in that same crooked way against the white-washed beam. The wind blew slightly, tousling his hair and flapping his now-undone tie in the wind.
She crept up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, slipping them through the holes his arms created with his hands shoved into his pockets. She inhaled deeply and placed a firm kiss directly between his shoulder blades, resting her head against his back.
"Hi," she whispered feebly.
"Hi."
Another few minutes passed, sans words or movement. They just stood like that, with him leaning slanted against the poll and her clinging to him from behind. She rubbed his stomach lightly and patted it a few times, just to show him that she was still there and waiting attentively.
"So," she stated, matter-of-factly. This made him smile. She was too cute, sometimes. He could never stay mad at her.
"So." She could hear the smile in his voice. He was so bad at concealing it.
"Are we going to talk about this?" she finally asked. Someone had to make the first move.
"Do you want to?" he asked, sounding hopeful in some way, but she wasn't sure of what.
"I always want to talk if something is bother you," she answered diplomatically, dodging the straightforwardness of his question. "IS something bothering you?"
"Yes," he answered quietly and honestly.
"What?"
He chuckled a bit and she could feel it in his stomach. This made her giggle, too. They were getting too old for this. Not that they were 'old' by any stretch of the imagination, but these were the types of conversations reserved strictly for overly analytical, lovelorn college students who spent hours on end and hundreds of dollars tying up phone lines from opposite ends of the country as they dissected every aspect of their relationship, a hundred times over. This was not for 30-somethings with a child and a home together.
"Come on," she pleaded, swaying them playfully from side to side. "Just for kicks. What's the problem?"
"You," he replied, throwing her for a loop.
"Oh?" she asked, almost worried for a moment. "How so?"
"You're just...you're too...you're so..." he grasped desperately for words. How could he ever explain to Rachel, though, just how 'Rachel' she was? How could he make her see how intimidating, even now, she could be at times? How horrifying the prospect of trying to satisfy the supreme being he'd built her up as in his mind was.
"I hope the ends of these sentences are good," she joked, alluding to another time he'd been at a loss for words. He pulled away slightly and turned to face her.
"Rachel," he stated seriously, looking into her eyes now. "I can't mess this up." That's all he had to say. They both knew what "this" was, and they both knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and sauntered closer to him again, placing her hands on his sides and leaning her forehead against his chest.
"I know," she nodded. She did know. She wouldn't pretend to be oblivious to how much he loved her-- how he almost worshiped her. She knew. She knew he was scared and intimidated and nervous. And it had never bothered her. He'd only thought it had.
"You do?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her, now, and kissing the top of her head. She nodded and looked up at him, her eyes big and wet.
"I'm not expecting anything from you, Ross. I have you, now, and it's already forever...with or without a stupid ring." She waited for this to sink in. "Okay?"
"Boy, you sure have changed a lot since we first met," he teased.
"Hey, I'm not saying I'd turn one down."
They both laughed quietly and she leaned up, placing a firm kiss on his lips. She rested her head against his chest and he held her on their friends' front porch for a little longer through the night and the wind and darkness, owning witness to the miles and miles of front lawns, picket fences and street lights.
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End Chapter 3. Continued in Chapter 4.
In short, you've probably read it all before, but maybe mine will be more fun than most :-)
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Hey!" Rachel cheered, reaching out and pulling her best friend into a massive bear hug. "Oh, It's been so long since I've seen you!"
"Sweety, we saw each other like 3 days ago," Monica reminded her, swaying playfully from side-to-side, still engaged in the hug. Rachel pulled away.
"Whatever! It still feels like an eternity. Oh, I just don't think I'm ever going to get used to not seeing you guys every day. Where's Chandler?"
"He's in the living room with the twins," Monica noted, pointing back behind her. "Where's my brother?"
"He's wake up Emma. Apparently he thinks he does it 'less obtrusively than me'," Rachel informed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
The two women stepped inside the house. Monica had decorated it beautifully and it now had a very modern, up-beat feel to it. She'd even painted the living room purple in honor of the old apartment. They rounded a bend to their right and found Chandler sitting of the hardwood floor with Jack and Erica, doing something with markers and construction paper.
"Chandler, what did I tell you about coloring in here?"
"Don't worry, I'm watching them, babe," he assured.
"It's not them I'm worried about! Have you seen him try to stay inside the lines?" she asked Rachel, earning her a chuckle from her best friend. Just then, Ross entered the room behind them, holding a very sleepy, cranky Emma.
"Sorry it took us a while. Someone's a little fussy."
"Aw, it's okay," Monica cooed, reaching out for her niece. "This cutie can be fussy anytime she wants, can't she?" she baby-talked to the sweet-faced girl. She rocked Emma and patted her hair.
"What're we having?" Ross asked, putting his hand against his stomach. "I'm starved."
"Sautéed lamb, caramelized mashed potatoes and Greek salad," Monica answered, leading the other 3 back into the kitchen. They let the children play on the floor while they sat down at the rectangular table.
"So how's the apartment?" Monica asked, folding her napkin onto her lap. There was a brief interlude of awkward silence and confused stares before she clarified. "I mean your apartment..."
"Oh, um, it's great! Yeah, you know, we just finished unpacking the other day," Rachel nodded.
"How's the TV working out for you, Ross?" Chandler asked with a smile, nodding at his friend as if in some special "guy" terms.
"Did you know that thing COMES with TiVo? Yeah, the other day? I recorded the Nicks/Pistons game WHILE watching the Discovery Channel documentary on Japanese-American Internment prisons from.."
"You mean I bought you that thing so you could TAPE a Nick's game?" Chandler asked, astonished and shaking his head. "I KNEW I should have kept it for myself.
"Okay, children, settle down," Rachel teased. "Mon, how are things coming along with the restaurant?"
Right after they'd moved and the twins were born, Monica had decided to balance maintaining her chef job with an operation to open up her own restaurant. It was still in the development stages, but she was determined to make it happen.
"Oh, , um, I'm working with this architect from a firm Chandler's company collaborates with. He's so efficient! I love him!" she enthusiastically spurted out.
"Yes, a little TOO much, I think," Chandler quipped, deadpanning his face. Monica rolled her eyes.
"Quit it, Chandler! We've talked about this. Rachel, what is it about guys that makes them get like this whenever we even TALK to another man?"
"Got me," she shrugged, turning her head to see Ross throwing her a dirty look. She was obviously mocking him about Mark. "I think you can train them out of it," she considered, "...although there was this time at the grocery store a few weeks ago..."
"Hey," Ross intervened, dropping his fork onto his plate and getting immediately defensive, "you KNOW that guy was checking you out. He saw that I was obviously with you."
"Well it's not like I had a wedding band on or anything," Rachel reputed. Uh, oh. She immediately regretted the words as they left her mouth. The room got quiet and a thick, uncomfortable silence covered everything. You could cut the palpable tension with a knife. No one even moved for a good 10 seconds.
"Ross, listen, that's not what I-"
"No, I know," he nodded, failing miserably at concealing his defensiveness. He looked away, tightening his lips as if to stifle another comment. She tried to lay her hand on his, but he pulled away and backed his chair from the table. "Will you excuse me for a second?" They all watched him exit the kitchen before anyone spoke.
"Shit!" Rachel sighed, pounding the tabletop with the flat of her palm and rubbing her eyes. "God, that's so not what I meant."
"No, we know, honey," Monica sympathized, rubbing her friend's back. "I guess it's just a touchy subject."
"It is! That's why I can't believe I said it."
"Rach, we know. You were just teasing him and it slipped. I'm sure he's fine," Chandler tried his best to reassure.
"Oh, really? Is that why he left?" she asked, her voice cracking. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out a single tear that slid slowly down her cheek.
"If you want, I'll go talk to him," Chandler offered. Rachel didn't answer, but Monica nodded him ahead. He quietly snuck out, leaving the two women alone in the kitchen.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Out on the front porch, Chandler found Ross standing at the top of the steps, gazing out over the front lawn and across the paralleled streets of suburbia. He was leaning against a support beam with his hands in his pockets. He looked pensive and serious, even from behind. Chandler moved to stand beside him, placing a hand on his back.
"Hey, man," he greeted. Ross nodded but continued to stare straight ahead. "You okay?"
"Ch'yeah," Ross scoffed, almost chuckling a bit, shaking his head and looking down at his feet. "Fan-fucking-tastic."
"Look, about what happened in there-"
"No," Ross stopped him, shaking his head and looking up. "No, don't make excuses. For her or for me. She's right. I fucked up."
"What?" Chandler asked confused.
"What do you mean 'what'?" he asked, stepping away from his friend and throwing a frustrated hand into the air. "Would you look at me? I'm 34 years old, I've been divorced 3 times-- the first two times because I was with the wrong women, and the third time because I was with the RIGHT woman but for the wrong reasons-- and I still can't just make the right decision." Both men were quiet for a moment-- Ross for a lack of words and Chandler for a lack of help. "What the hell's wrong with me, man?" he asked, finally sitting down on the front stoop.
"Nothing, 'wrong' with you," Chandler said, sitting beside his friend. Ross shook his head.
"No-- no, there HAS to be something wrong with me. What else could explain me having been with the woman I've loved since high school TWICE, already, and not having proposed even ONCE?"
"Fear? Perfectionism? Romanticism?" Chandler proposed. These possibilities did intrigue Ross, and he found it odd that he couldn't find an argument. "Look...Ross..." he continued, patting him on the back, "I think you and I both know it's not as easy as that."
"Yeah, but does Rachel know that?" he asked seriously, turning to look his friend in the eye. Chandler nodded.
"I'd be willing to bet so. She's a pretty smart girl, you know."
"I know," Ross agreed, nodding. "I just want it to be prefect, you know?"
"Yeah."
"I mean..." Ross paused, searching for the right words. He looked out over the infinite casing of front lawns, picket fences and street lights, considering his next sentence, "...how can anything be good enough for her?"
"Is that why you haven't proposed yet? You're worried you wont be able to do it well enough?"
"Yeah!" Ross answered exuberantly, as if that were obviously. "God, I mean, it's RACHEL! I was dreaming about the perfect way to propose to her before I'd had my first kiss...before my first girlfriend...before anything. She's it, Chandler. She's, like, more of an 'it' than most people get in their entire lives. She's so 'it' that I can't sleep sometimes thinking about it. She's...I don't even know," he surrendered, covering his face with his hands and sighing deeply.
"I know, man. Trust me, I know how you feel about her."
"So do I. That's the hardest part."
"Well, if it's any consolation, she really did feel terrible about what happened. She was almost in tears when I left."
"Gah, I didn't mean for that to happen," Ross insisted. "I should probably go talk to her but I feel like such an ass.."
"Well, I'm going to go back inside," Chandler announced, standing up and wiping off his pants. "Come on back whenever you feel up to it."
"Thanks, man."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Chandler walked back inside to be greeted by his wife. She was clearing dishes from the table.
"Where is she?" he asked confusedly.
"In the bathroom. This was something, huh?"
"Tell me about it." He picked up a plate from the table and began helping her clean up.
"Is Ross okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine."
"What was the problem, do you know?"
"He's just really intimidated by the prospect of having to propose to her, which is understandable, I guess."
"Wow, Ross afraid of proposing?" Monica joked.
"I know, right?" he played along. "It is kind of daunting to think about, though."
"What is?"
"Well, just think about how long he's been in love with her for. You know, he told me he'd been planning this since before he'd even had his friend girlfriend, and I hadn't thought about it before, but he's right. Twenty years is a long time to want something. I guess now that he has it, he doesn't know what to do with it."
Just then, Rachel emerged from the bathroom, make-up touched up and looking fairly pulled-together. She smiled weakly.
"Will you guys watch Emma for a few minutes?" she asked, pointing towards the door implicitly. They nodded and smiled comfortingly. She made her way to the front of the house.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The screen-door creaked as Rachel stepped out onto the porch. Ross was standing again, leaning in that same crooked way against the white-washed beam. The wind blew slightly, tousling his hair and flapping his now-undone tie in the wind.
She crept up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, slipping them through the holes his arms created with his hands shoved into his pockets. She inhaled deeply and placed a firm kiss directly between his shoulder blades, resting her head against his back.
"Hi," she whispered feebly.
"Hi."
Another few minutes passed, sans words or movement. They just stood like that, with him leaning slanted against the poll and her clinging to him from behind. She rubbed his stomach lightly and patted it a few times, just to show him that she was still there and waiting attentively.
"So," she stated, matter-of-factly. This made him smile. She was too cute, sometimes. He could never stay mad at her.
"So." She could hear the smile in his voice. He was so bad at concealing it.
"Are we going to talk about this?" she finally asked. Someone had to make the first move.
"Do you want to?" he asked, sounding hopeful in some way, but she wasn't sure of what.
"I always want to talk if something is bother you," she answered diplomatically, dodging the straightforwardness of his question. "IS something bothering you?"
"Yes," he answered quietly and honestly.
"What?"
He chuckled a bit and she could feel it in his stomach. This made her giggle, too. They were getting too old for this. Not that they were 'old' by any stretch of the imagination, but these were the types of conversations reserved strictly for overly analytical, lovelorn college students who spent hours on end and hundreds of dollars tying up phone lines from opposite ends of the country as they dissected every aspect of their relationship, a hundred times over. This was not for 30-somethings with a child and a home together.
"Come on," she pleaded, swaying them playfully from side to side. "Just for kicks. What's the problem?"
"You," he replied, throwing her for a loop.
"Oh?" she asked, almost worried for a moment. "How so?"
"You're just...you're too...you're so..." he grasped desperately for words. How could he ever explain to Rachel, though, just how 'Rachel' she was? How could he make her see how intimidating, even now, she could be at times? How horrifying the prospect of trying to satisfy the supreme being he'd built her up as in his mind was.
"I hope the ends of these sentences are good," she joked, alluding to another time he'd been at a loss for words. He pulled away slightly and turned to face her.
"Rachel," he stated seriously, looking into her eyes now. "I can't mess this up." That's all he had to say. They both knew what "this" was, and they both knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and sauntered closer to him again, placing her hands on his sides and leaning her forehead against his chest.
"I know," she nodded. She did know. She wouldn't pretend to be oblivious to how much he loved her-- how he almost worshiped her. She knew. She knew he was scared and intimidated and nervous. And it had never bothered her. He'd only thought it had.
"You do?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her, now, and kissing the top of her head. She nodded and looked up at him, her eyes big and wet.
"I'm not expecting anything from you, Ross. I have you, now, and it's already forever...with or without a stupid ring." She waited for this to sink in. "Okay?"
"Boy, you sure have changed a lot since we first met," he teased.
"Hey, I'm not saying I'd turn one down."
They both laughed quietly and she leaned up, placing a firm kiss on his lips. She rested her head against his chest and he held her on their friends' front porch for a little longer through the night and the wind and darkness, owning witness to the miles and miles of front lawns, picket fences and street lights.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
End Chapter 3. Continued in Chapter 4.