Monica laughed. Ross, sitting next to her on the couch, gestured at the television. "See? The old shows were funny. I think it jumped the shark when Diane left."
Monica tilted her head. "Jumped the shark?"
"It comes from Happy Days," Chandler said in a professorial tone. "The shows became really bad after the one where Fonzie jumped over a shark on water skis. So any time a show starts to suck, it is said to have 'jumped the shark'."
"Oh." Monica mentally filed that under 'useless trivia'. "Well, if you ask me, I liked Rebecca just fine when she was a cold-hearted business woman. I hated it when they made her start acting all ditzy."
"Either way," Ross continued, "its time has come and gone."
"No way!" Monica frowned. "Man, can't imagine it not being on the air."
"Gotta happen some time. Then they can replace it with my idea of a comedy based on prehistoric man."
Chandler shook his head. "Ross, my man, you will eventually have to come to grips with the idea of exactly how uncool you are."
Ross snorted. "Look who's talking, Mr. Sweater-Vest."
"They are comfortable and fashionable!" Chandler rubbed his chest. "Besides, they let me wear them at work. Trust me, anything's better than that stupid suit."
Ross grinned. "Y'know, you were the last guy at college that I'd thought would be wearing a tie every day for work."
"Just you wait! When my new script hits Spielberg's desk, I'll make millions!"
"Oh?" Monica raised her eyebrows. "What new script?"
"Uh... the one about the annoying robot woman who asked stupid questions." Chandler looked back at the television.
Monica grinned. She was trying to work out a rejoinder when the phone rang. Mildly relieved - she'd never have Chandler's knack for instant comebacks - she picked it up. "Hello?"
"Hey there."
"Hey." She looked over at the guys. "It's Fun Bobby."
Ross and Chandler shouted out greetings. Monica smiled at them as she spoke. "So, what's up?"
"My friend Timothy is having a party tonight. What say we head on over at eight, get an early start on the night?"
Monica frowned. "Another party? I'm sick of 'em, that's all we ever do. Why not stop by my place? I'm here watching television with the guys."
"Oh, talk about dullsville, Monica. C'mon, live it up a little!"
"I've been 'living it up' since the day we met," Monica said somewhat testily. "Look, take a night off, slow down a bit."
"I'll slow down the day I die," Bobby said firmly. "C'mon, loosen up!"
"I'm loose enough already." That earned some guffaws from Chandler and Ross. She glared at them, irritated mostly at herself for giving them such easy ammunition. "We've been partying non-stop for a couple of months now. I for one would just like to relax for a bit."
"Relax?" Bobby sounded horrified. "We got the whole rest of our lives for that. Have fun now, while you're young!"
"Bobby." Monica sighed. "I don't want to go to a party tonight, okay? You can come over here and join us, if you want, but that's it."
"That's it?" Bobby sounded puzzled. "What do you mean, that's it?"
Monica found the decision crystallizing even as she said it. "It means don't bother me until you're done partying. I like you, Bobby, but I'm tired. When you're ready to slow down a bit, give me a call."
"Oh man." Bobby sounded regretful. "We could have had such a fun time, Monica."
"We did. But I want more than just fun, Bobby."
"More than just Fun Bobby. I hear you. See you around, Monica."
"Goodbye," she said even as she heard the click. With an even bigger sigh she set the receiver back down. She stared at the television screen, seeing the images but not really processing any meaning from them.
"You okay, Mon?" Ross's voice, gentle and probing.
"Yeah." She shook herself. "Yeah, I am. I really was wearing myself out with Fun Bobby. He just couldn't figure out that it was just as enjoyable hanging out and doing nothing."
"Yeah." Chandler nodded. "No one can ever hear my witty rejoinders when the music's too loud."
Ross grinned at Chandler. "Hey, that was the best part of Fun Bobby's parties."
Chandler made a face at Ross. "No, it was even better watching people fall away in droves as soon as you started talking about dinosaurs."
Ross seemed on the verge of a retort, but he cut himself off and looked back at Monica. "So, really, you all right?"
"I am," she said firmly. "Guys want some popcorn?"
"Sure," Chandler said. "Lotsa butter."
"Butter? That's way too fattening."
"That's what makes it so good."
"I'll make two bowls, then. You can clog your arteries with one while I'll be living longer on the other."
"And people say you're no fun," Chandler said with a grin.
Monica couldn't help laughing. She went into the kitchen as Ross and Chandler continued their war of comic retorts and decided that she had absolutely made the right choice.
.
Monica turned on her side, staring at the blinds covering the bedroom window. There was a downside to having no boyfriend, and that was sleeping alone. For years and years, all the way through high school, she'd slept by herself and thought nothing of it. Then she'd discovered that, beyond sex, it was enjoyable just sharing a bed with someone. She loved the intimacy of it, the dropping of barriers, the closeness of it all. Now that she didn't have that any more, she found herself longing for it intensely.
She stared at the phone. It'd be so easy to call him, ask him over. It was only one in the morning; he usually stayed up a lot later than that on the weekend. But for a week Monica had resisted the temptation to call him; best to keep the break clean.
So easy to say. So difficult to do. Monica rolled deliberately away from the phone and instead found herself staring at her bedroom door. Through it and across the hall was Chandler. Maybe she should ask him to sleep with her. Monica smiled at herself; she could imagine the shock on his face if she asked. But she had no real interest in it. Chandler was a good friend and neighbor, but there was too much bad history between them for her to ever seriously consider him as a potential bedmate.
There was a loud thump from the other bedroom, and the sound of a woman crying out in pain. Monica shot to her feet and ran out into the living room. She knocked on the door. "Phoebe? Are you all right?"
She heard indistinct sounds of conversation, and then another cry of pain. Monica set her jaw and knocked more insistently, her hand on the doorknob. Then it spun from underneath her, and the door opened. A man, who looked to be a couple of years younger than Monica and was dressed only in his pants, looked at her with an expression of panic. "Uh, Phoebe's hurt."
Monica pushed him aside. Phoebe was lying on the bedroom floor, naked, clutching her leg and grimacing. Monica knelt, barked out a command. "Turn on the lights."
The man did so, and Monica examined Phoebe's leg. It didn't look too bad, except that it was just beginning to swell. Monica looked at Phoebe's face. "What's wrong?"
"It hurts." Phoebe was breathing heavily. "I mean, it really hurts."
"You're going to the hospital," Monica decided. She glared up at Phoebe's boyfriend. "Get out while I get her dressed."
The man nodded. He grabbed his clothes and left.
Monica helped Phoebe sit on the bed and gingerly helped her put on some sweatpants and a shirt. Phoebe wasn't up to putting on socks or shoes on her left leg. Monica walked over to the bedroom door and gestured towards Phoebe's boyfriend. "Help me."
With her arms around the shoulders of Monica and the man, Phoebe stood up on her right leg. She whimpered slightly but then said, "Okay, what now?"
Good question. The hospital was about a dozen blocks away, a bit too far to walk to with Phoebe in this condition. And the subways this late at night didn't seem like a good idea. She looked over at Phoebe's boyfriend, who said, "I've got a car."
"Good. Help me get her outside, then you go get it."
"Right." They began walking Phoebe towards the apartment door.
Phoebe managed to flash a smile at the man. "Thanks, Larry."
"No problem," he muttered.
Monica grabbed her purse and Phoebe's. They managed to get through the door and began carefully navigating the stairs. Monica couldn't restrain herself any longer. "What happened?"
Larry blushed, but Phoebe answered easily. "We were trying something we read in a book I just bought."
"A book?"
Larry reached into his back pocket, pulled out a crudely-bound small book. In simple bold letters it was titled, 'Kama Sutra For Dummies'.
Monica eyed it for a second, then looked at Phoebe. "Really."
"Yeah. Something went wrong with position seven, step six."
Larry opened the book and peered at something. "You know, it says 'left leg', but I think it may have meant 'lift leg'."
"Oh!" Phoebe nodded enthusiastically. "That makes a lot more sense!"
Monica thinned her lips but refrained from further comment. Clearly this book wasn't officially sanctioned by the 'Dummies' publishers, but saying that wouldn't help matters.
They got through the building's front door. Larry ran off to get his car. Monica stood with Phoebe, supporting her as much as she could.
After a few seconds, Phoebe said quietly, "I'm sorry for waking you up."
"I was awake anyway." Now that the door had been opened, Monica couldn't help also asking, "What did you think you were doing with that book, anyway?"
"Experimenting," Phoebe said brightly. "Positions one, two, four, and five were pretty boring. But position three was great fun, and position six..." She trailed off with a satisfied hum.
Monica eyed Phoebe again. This was a side to her roommate she'd only glimpsed at. Phoebe did seem utterly inhibited, but Monica had never suspected that it extended so far. "Do you really need to risk bodily injury, though?"
Phoebe grinned at her. "Half the pleasure comes from the risk. Don't you know that, Monica?"
"I..." Monica found herself feeling slightly defensive. "I have pleasure enough without having to use manuals."
"Uh huh." Phoebe sounded unconvinced. "Remember, I sleep in the room next door, and I have yet to hear anything that causes the walls to shake."
"I, I can have enjoy myself and not break anything."
"You can enjoy yourself a little bit, but until you see the stars flash before your eyes, you haven't really lived yet."
Monica found herself growing more and more uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Well, I'm living just fine, I think," she said as way to finish the conversation.
Phoebe's face became more serious. "Oh, I'm judging you a little bit, aren't I? I'm sorry. I guess there's a, a spectrum of sex, and you're like at the far left and I'm at the far right. So, so maybe the real answer is that we both need to move a little towards the middle."
Monica smiled. "Maybe."
Phoebe nodded, look as a car drove up. "Or maybe I need to move outside the spectrum altogether! I need two men and a woman for position eight."
Monica rolled her eyes but didn't stop smiling. She suspected that this was an aspect of Phoebe that was never going to change, despite tonight's injury. But that was all right. It was hard to deny exactly how much Phoebe enjoyed herself.
Just maybe, Monica thought to herself, a little move towards the center was justified. Now all she needed was someone to move with.
Setting those speculations aside for now, Monica helped Phoebe into the car.
(to be continued)
Author's Note: The story of Phoebe breaking her leg in this manner comes from "TOW Rachel Has a Baby"