Shaking off the irritation, Monica grabbed a patty from a platter she had prepared earlier and threw it onto the grill. It began to sizzle, and Monica quickly applied a pinch of pepper and garlic to add some flavor. The lunch shift manager seemed far more laid back than Mr. Shurtleff had been during the dinner shift, and didn't seem to mind if Monica strayed a little from the menu.
A new waiter came into the kitchen. Monica found him aesthetically pleasing to look at and didn't mind at all when he walked directly towards her. "Monica, right?"
She nodded, suddenly mindful of Kip.
"One of the customers wants to compliment you on the salad."
Monica felt a warm glow at this. This was a very rare occurrence, one that every chef strove towards. Monica looked over at Frannie, who instantly said, "Go, I'll finish this."
Smiling her thanks, Monica stopped at the sink to quickly wash her hands. She walked out into the dining area and stopped in her tracks when the waiter pointed out the table.
The woman at the table smiled somewhat nervously. Monica gathered herself and walked on over. "Hi, Carol."
"Hi Monica." She indicated her salad. "I thought this tasted like yours and took a chance. I'm glad I was right."
"Thank you." Monica took stock. It surprised her to think that it had been quite a while since she'd seen Carol. That Carol should choose to eat at Monica's workplace was unlikely to be a coincidence; she probably wanted to talk to Monica about something. But Monica already had one black mark against her after her confrontation with Mr. Shurtleff and couldn't afford to take too long a break right during the heart of the lunch shift. And whatever problems Carol and Ross were having, Monica could probably offer almost no help. Her four-month-old relationship with Kip was her longest so far, and marriage was far off in the horizon, if it was going to happen at all.
Monica thought over all that while looking steadily at Carol, then sat at the table. "What's wrong?"
Carol seemed taken aback by that. "Who, who said anything was wrong?"
Monica furrowed her brow just the tiniest bit. "Carol," she said with a touch of admonishment.
With a sigh Carol took a sip of water. Then she shook her head. "It's so easy to analyze other people's problems and so difficult to look at your own. I really thought I was here just to say hi and compliment you on the salad, but I guess it really is something else."
"Then what?" Monica couldn't help showing a little exasperation. "I was hoping you guys would... would start getting better."
"Well... we haven't been getting any worse, which is an improvement." Carol picked up her fork and started toying with a crouton. "Mostly because we don't see each other a lot. I spend time at the book store or the gym, and Ross... Ross spends time with you. A lot of time with you."
Monica nodded reluctantly. Ross came over four or five nights a week now, and Monica always prepared dinner on the assumption that he would arrive in time for it. It was almost like they were living together at home again, except he didn't spend hours in the bathroom working on his hair.
"So... so we seem to have... a kind of truce." Carol speared the crouton and lifted it up, studying it minutely. "Ross goes and does his thing with you guys, and I go and do my thing by myself, and when we do get together, it's like we're, we're meeting each other for the first time. Back when... back when our relationship was good. So, so it's like as long as can pretend we aren't even married but are just dating like we were in college... then... then it's all right."
Monica looked around, but none of her co-workers seemed to be paying and special attention to the table. So far her little impromptu break had gone unnoticed. In a way she was disappointed, because she had no idea how to respond to Carol's little speech. "So, you're happy?"
"Happy?" Carol's focus shifted from the crouton to Monica. "I, I'm at peace, mostly. It's not happy but it's better than what it used to be. But, but I feel guilty. Ross and I pledged to each other that we'd be beside each other for the rest of our lives, supporting each other through good times and bad. But I'm... I'm not really supporting him. I'm not... trying to make him happy."
Carol set down the fork and leaned forward, her eyes intense. "I have to know, Monica... when Ross is with you, when he's spending those evenings with you and your friends... does he... is... is he happy?"
Monica returned Carol's gaze, suddenly ashamed about the argument she'd had with Ross last night. "He... he seems all right. We, all of us, we talk and watch television and play games and... and he seems to be having fun like the rest of us. I don't... it's not the same kind of joy I felt from him when he first met you, but... I think he enjoys spending time with us."
Carol sagged and dropped her eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths, then said, "Thank you. I, I needed to hear that."
"You're, uh, welcome. I'm sorry, I have to get back to the kitchen." Monica stood up. "You, you guys will be all right, won't you?"
Lifting her eyes, Carol smiled slightly. "We're trying. I made promises, to Ross and God, and I intend on trying to keep them. We've reached... an accommodation. I don't know exactly how sustainable it is, but it will do until... until I can find some answers."
Carol reached over, took Monica's hand in hers, squeezed it slightly. "Again, thank you. I'm so lucky Ross has a wonderful sister like you."
Monica blushed. "Th-thanks. Stop by sometime for dinner, we'd love to have you."
"I'll try." Carol smiled widely.
Monica withdrew her hand and walked quickly back to the kitchen. She washed her hands again and thought of Ross. Desperately she hoped that he came to dinner tonight, that the arguments of last night didn't keep him away. Monica felt a sudden and surprisingly deep sibling sympathy arise, and a desire to see Ross that greatly eclipsed any longing to see Kip.
She went back to the grill and started thinking about what she could do to help her brother.
.
Monica turned the handle and pushed, and was mildly surprised to find that the door was locked. Her keys were still in her hand so she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The apartment was indeed empty.
She dumped her keys on the counter and picked up the phone. She called Ross at work and at his apartment, but he was in neither of those places. Monica swore softly. If only cell phones weren't so expensive; it would be an awfully convenient way to get a hold of him right now.
With nothing more she could do, she changed out of her work clothes and considered what to do about dinner. Kip was supposed to come over tonight, so at the very least there'd be two for dinner. Monica decided on quick stew, enough for five if everyone showed up. She could refrigerate and later slow-cook any leftovers.
She had just begun when Chandler walked in. Monica smiled a greeting at him. "Hey, how'd it go last night?"
"You know how weird I am, right?" Chandler went to the refrigerator, pulled out a soft drink. "Well, compare me to the array of New York City taxi drivers we met last night, and I'm a regular Fred MacMurray."
Monica wasn't exactly sure who that was but laughed anyway. "So did you find Phoebe's grandmother?"
"Surprisingly, yes." Chandler opened the can, took a drink. "At least, we found where she lived."
"So you went to go see her?"
"We went to go see the building she lived in."
Monica frowned. "And?"
"And." Chandler took a long drink. "Do you have any idea how cold it can get when you're standing outside in the winter next to a woman staring up at an apartment building? My fingers fell off one by one and I had to reattach them with a combination of bubble gum and duct tape."
Irrationally, Monica glanced at his fingers looking for duct tape. She quickly shook herself. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"It means she just stood there for an hour. She didn't move an inch. Then she apologized and we went home. We never did actually ring the doorbell or anything."
"Oh." Monica sighed. "Meaning Phoebe probably has some family issues we're not completely aware of."
"Well, we knew that she ran away from home after her mother killed herself. That would imply that she wasn't too keen on living with any of her relatives, which would include her grandmother." Chandler shrugged. "I give her credit for trying, though. Sometimes I look at my parents, and I think that I'd rather dive into a swimming pool full of razor blades than see them again."
"Ew." Monica quickly shoved the mental image out of her head. It wasn't like Chandler to be so grim, which led Monica to wonder about his parental issues. He'd made many joking references to his father's gay burlesque show and his mother's jet-setting lifestyle. How he really and truly felt about his parents, Monica didn't know.
She began chopping some carrots, then said without turning her head, "You were great last night."
"I... er, what?"
"The way you helped Phoebe. I was impressed."
Chandler sighed. "A woman thanks me for being great last night and it's not for the one thing I wish it could be for."
Monica glanced up sharply. "Stop that."
"Ah, that's the kind of thing I'm used to having a woman say to me."
"Oh, you're impossible." Monica started in on the celery. "Forget I said anything."
Silence for a moment. "Uh, thanks. I guess I have to work on being gracious when someone tries to pay me a compliment."
"Oh, you think?" She looked up. "You're a nice guy, it's just that sometimes it's hard to see beyond that mouth of yours."
Whatever response Chandler might have been in the process of making was interrupted by the door opening. Kip came in, smiling as he saw Monica. "Hello."
"Hi there." Monica turned and accepted a hug and brief-but-fierce kiss from Kip. The book receipt flashed through her mind but she shoved it aside, deciding to enjoy his presence for now. She broke off the hug and turned back towards the sink. "Grab yourself something to drink, dinner will be about half an hour."
"All right." As Monica washed her hands she could hear the refrigerator door being opened. "Hi Chandler," Kip said in passing.
"Hey." Chandler's voice was strangely neutral. Monica glanced at him, saw the same blank expression she saw in Phoebe's face when she was talking to Kip. Monica thinned her lips. What was wrong with these people?
The door opened again, and Phoebe and Ross entered. Monica felt weak with relief at the sight of Ross. He was busy chatting with Phoebe and didn't meet Monica's eyes.
"Hey guys." Chandler's voice had a lot more animation now. "So, how was work and all?"
Phoebe's voice sound very chipper, even for her. "I didn't go to work today!"
"All right!" Chandler bounced up and down twice. "I know I'd feel that excited, too, if I skipped work. In fact, I'd throw a party, invite the whole island. Except I'd need a job to pay for it."
Ross held up a hand to stave off Chandler's monologue. "Ask her why she skipped work."
Phoebe answered before Chandler could phrase the question. "I spent the whole day with my grandmother!"
Monica stopped stirring the pot and focused her whole attention on Phoebe. She was positively glowing, and Monica felt something inside herself respond to Phoebe's obvious joy.
"That's great!" For once, Chandler seemed genuinely enthusiastic. "So you finally worked up the nerve to go see her."
"Yes, I was on my way to work, except somehow my feet led me to her apartment, and my brain was trying to yell at my feet and tell them to take me away but my hand had its own thoughts and pushed the button, and then Grandma's voice came over the intercom and, and I just had to say something." Phoebe couldn't seem to get the words out fast enough. "And she was glad to see me and we talked and talked about all sorts of stuff and I have a grandmother again, yay!"
Monica laughed along with everyone else. Phoebe continued to babble on. Ross walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, selected a bottle of juice, and came over to the cupboard to grab a glass.
"Hey," Monica said in a low voice, not wanting to interrupt Phoebe.
"Hey," Ross said in an equally quiet tone.
Monica swallowed. "I'm sorry."
Ross looked at her and their eyes met. "Me too," he said.
Monica nodded. "No matter what happens, I hope you keep coming around here."
"I plan to."
They shared a brief smile, then Ross moved away and asked Phoebe a question about her grandmother. Phoebe answered with undiminished glee, and Monica let the emotions wash over her, leaving her relatively at peace.
(to be continued)