Phoebe was staring at the end of her cue stick. "What's this blue stuff?"
"Chalk. To keep the tip from sliding off." Monica picked up her beer. "It's your turn."
Frowning with concentration, Phoebe gripped the stick in a manner slightly reminiscent of the way Monica had taught her, and took dead aim at the eight ball.
Monica sighed. "The white ball, you can only strike the white ball with the cue stick."
"Oh, right." Phoebe moved a bit to her left and hit the cue ball. It bounced off two balls, a rail, another ball, and another rail before coming to rest at almost exactly the point it had started at. Phoebe giggled. "That was fun! How many points is that?"
A sip of beer was sufficient to drown the irritation Monica was feeling. There were so many things about Phoebe she still didn't understand. After the breakup, Phoebe had been so calm, steady, and mature, displaying a deep understanding of what Monica was going through and how to make her feel better. Now, however, she couldn't seem to keep track of the rules of pool, despite Monica's repeated explanations. Monica wasn't certain if this was an act or not. It just didn't seem possible for anyone to be that completely ditzy. Most likely the game simply didn't interest Phoebe at all and she chose not to retain any information about. Instead Phoebe did whatever seemed like fun.
That was a difficult concept for Monica to grasp. Games were fun as long as one obeyed the rules. She'd never be able to approach games the way Phoebe did. Then again, Phoebe seemed to be enjoying herself.
But Monica couldn't help feeling that the game would be better for both of them if Phoebe could just try to do things the way they were supposed to be done. "No points. You have to knock the balls into the pockets, remember."
"Oh, yeah yeah." Phoebe sat on a nearby stool and took a sip of her Manhattan. "Go ahead and show me again."
Monica's eyes were already dancing over the felt, examining the layout. The stripes were begging to be run. She lined up her first shot and dropped it easily, at the same time leaving the cue ball ready for the next shot. With a grunt of satisfaction, she moved around the table.
She happened to pass in front of Phoebe and noticed that she wasn't watching the table at all. Monica followed her line of sight to see two men hunched over a table, drinking beer and laughing about something. Monica couldn't make out much about their faces from this angle, but they both seemed to have well-developed bodies.
Monica looked back at Phoebe. During the months they had lived together, Phoebe had yet to bring a man home. That had made Monica feel slightly guilty about all the times Kip had stayed over, and to wonder if Phoebe's proclivities lay elsewhere. Her face as she looked at the men showed definite interest.
Monica smiled and tried a gentle prompt. "See anything you like?"
"Oh yeah." Phoebe's voice had an undertone Monica had never heard before, a lusting that seemed somehow out of character yet completely natural to Phoebe. "Tell me which one you like, so long as it isn't the blonde."
Chuckling, Monica considered the men for a moment. She found her own interest aroused as well, which had to be a good sign. Still, it was a bit too soon, and she felt totally disinclined to initiate any flirting. "Take 'em both, they're yours."
"With pleasure." Phoebe took a long drink from her Manhattan but didn't move.
Monica looked Phoebe up and down, seeing her in a new way. She was tall for a woman but not so tall as to be intimidating. Her long hair was always clean and straight, which Monica was jealous of as her own shoulder-length hair was sometimes quite difficult to manage. And while Phoebe didn't work out as often as Monica did, she was still slim and curvaceous. To Monica's eyes, Phoebe was a woman that any man would find very attractive.
"When..." Monica paused, wondering if she should ask this, but plunging on before rationality could tell her to stop. "Before you moved in with me... what was it like, dating?"
Phoebe continued to stare at the men but didn't answer. Monica took that as a sign and decided to drop the subject. Probably Phoebe was trying to put all that behind her, and why not? Homeless life could not have been fun for her. Monica turned back to the pool table, lined up her shot.
"I found out very quickly you had two options living on the street. Either get raped on a regular basis or make yourself so repulsive no man would touch you. I didn't like either of those, so I picked another alternative. I chose my partners, having my fun with them but moving on quickly before either of us could get too attached. That way no one got territorial and I managed to get by."
Monica was still bent over the table, frozen by Phoebe's quiet monologue. She turned her head slightly, found another question being formed almost against her will. "Ever fall in love?"
"Love was too dangerous." Phoebe's eyes looked down at her feet. "There were people there that liked hurting themselves, and hurting the people they loved. So I always made certain that love wasn't a part of it. I made them understand that what we were doing was supposed to be fun, that's all. It didn't always work. Sometimes they fell in love anyway. Sometimes... sometimes I think I did, too. But it always ended. Nothing... nothing on the street has any stability at all. So I learned to... to give enough of myself to survive, but not so much that I'd be crushed when it fell apart."
"Oh." Monica straightened and faced Phoebe, not sure of what to say. "Then... then what I went through with Kip was nothing compared to what you've been through with men."
"Oh Monica." Phoebe looked up at her. "I don't ever want us to compare miseries. And, and I've caused as much suffering as I've been exposed to. So please, don't, don't dwell too much on what my life was like before. I... I want to... I like this life I'm having with you, I want it to be a whole new beginning."
Monica reached out, gently squeezed Phoebe's arm. "I like this life with you, too. I want you to feel comfortable doing whatever you want. If that means bringing one - or both- of those guys home with you, that's good too."
Phoebe grinned. "It would be good, I can guarantee that. I've, I've been kind of holding back, waiting to... to feel settled. But now that I am..." Her gaze drifted back towards the men. "I just might do that. It's been so long, I'm feeling a little... anxious."
Monica laughed. "Well, like I said, don't ever let me get in your way. Shall we go over and talk to them?"
"No need." Phoebe pointed with her chin.
Turning, Monica saw the two men coming up to the pool table. "Hey," said the blonde, "can I play the winner?"
Monica met Phoebe's eyes again and they grinned at each other.
.
The day was warm, as warm as it had been for a while. Spring was at last taking hold, and Monica lifted her head to feel the breeze on her face. It was refreshing, and she needed that.
Distantly she heard the door open and the sound of footsteps in the apartment. She looked over at the open window to see Chandler stick his head through it. "Hey, there you are."
"Here I am." Monica was in a very serene mood and the sight of Chandler mellowed her even further. She beckoned him onto the balcony.
He stepped through the window and stood next to her, looking out onto the street. "So, why exactly isn't there a door to this place? Why do we have to climb through the window?"
"I don't think this was supposed to be a balcony." Monica tapped on the waist-high brick wall. "This was an add-on, to fence in what was just supposed to be part of the roof. I think they added in the bay window at the same time."
"But... but we're not on the roof. This is just the second floor."
Monica shrugged. "Talk to Mr. Treeger, he'll explain it to you."
"I, I can't, I'm afraid he'll eat me."
"Oh, stop. He's a nice guy, he's just a little gruff sometimes."
"So was Hannibal Lecter."
"Who?"
"You haven't seen that movie? Oh man, we have so got to go see it."
"Sure. Maybe Saturday. I'll ask Ross."
"Saturday it is." Chandler pulled himself to a sitting position on top of the wall, looked down, and quickly got off. "So, where's Phoebe?"
"Out with her new boyfriend."
"Oh? Anyone I know?"
"No, just a guy we met at the bar."
"Man, I've been going to the bar for a year now, I never met anyone as gorgeous as Phoebe."
Monica chuckled. "Why didn't you ever ask Phoebe out?"
"I dunno. Phoebe's... Phoebe. She, I don't think... there's just not the right kind of chemistry. I love hanging out with her, don't get me wrong, but... I'd think we'd screw it up if we dated."
"Hmm." Monica looked out as the sun did a mini-sunset over a nearby building. "Kind of like how Kip and I screwed it up."
Silence for a few moments. "Kip... I never really thought he... fit in. I don't know how to say it, but... but I think the only reason we ever hung out with him was because you were interested in him. After you broke up, there was nothing at all likeable about the guy."
Monica thought that over, and strangely it made her feel a little better. "How's it going with you two?"
"Oh, don't worry, it's only excruciating. We don't talk, ever. I spend all my time here and he... does whatever he does in our apartment. I really really hope he moves out soon. I'm trying to think of a super-subtle way of trying to force him to leave, but so far leaving out bottles of Chianti and cans of fava beans hasn't gotten the point home yet."
"Fava beans?"
"You'll find out Saturday."
Monica looked over at Chandler. "You're so strange sometimes."
Chandler raised an eyebrow and spoke in a bad British accent. "You have no idea."
"That one I know. Jeremy Irons?"
"Ten points for the brunette." Chandler grinned briefly. "I do have one thing in my favor. The lease is in my name because I was the one that paid the deposit. So if the absolute worst comes to pass, I can force him out."
"Oh wow. I hope it doesn't come to that."
"Me too. I'm pretty sure he finds the situation as unbearable as I do and that he's looking for a new place. I'll give him time. I may not like the guy much but I don't want to force him out into the cold, either."
Monica smiled, put one arm around his waist. "You know what, kid? You're all right."
"Th-thanks." Chandler seemed slightly nervous but put his arm around her waist as well. They stood together like that for a moment, looking out over the city. Monica felt good, it was great to have a friend like Chandler.
This time she was completely surprised when Ross stuck his head through the window. "Hey."
"Hey." Monica disengaged herself from Chandler. "Chandler wants to take us to a movie on Saturday, want to come?"
Ross's eyes flicked quickly back and forth between Chandler and Monica. "Sure," he finally replied. "I'll ask Carol, too."
"Great." Monica motioned with her hands and Ross stepped away from the window. She climbed inside and walked towards the kitchen. "I didn't really prepare a dinner tonight but I can make us some sandwiches quick."
"We can make them ourselves, too." Ross stood behind Monica as she opened the refrigerator. They studied the contents together.
"Let me," Monica declared after a minute. "I want to try something."
"Something that will make me throw up?"
"I can only hope." Monica shoved Ross away. "How about you and Chandler get some beers from the store? I'm down to one."
"I've blown all my alcohol allowance on Chianti, I'm afraid," Chandler said as he came in from the balcony. "Ross, can we use your double-income-no-kids endless supply of money for this?"
"I thought we could use your mother's book earnings instead."
"Can't, she's too busy spending it all on liposuction." Chandler and Ross continued their bantering as they left together.
Monica smiled to herself as she began pulling out the ingredients she would use. Chandler really was an all-right sort of guy. No wonder he and Ross had remained friends after college. His never-ending jokes did get a little tiring, though. Monica mildly pitied whatever woman he'd marry; she'd have to have tremendous patience, the kind Monica certainly didn't possess.
Putting that thought aside, Monica began carefully crafting dinner.
(to be continued)