The door opened and Monica looked up. Chandler and Ross came in together, both dressed in sweats and both having obviously been doing some rigorous activity. From the basketball under Chandler's arm it wasn't hard to figure out what that had been.
They both greeted her and headed directly towards the refrigerator. Ross poured tall glasses of orange juice for both himself and Chandler, and they each greedily drank it down. Monica watched without comment, glad that they were being careful not to spill.
Finally Ross put his glass on the counter with a contented sigh. "I thought you had to work today, Mon."
"I did. I took the day off."
"Oh?" Chandler peered at her. "You look tired. Are you sick?"
"I don't get sick," Monica snapped irritably.
Chandler recoiled. "Eep. Guess I won't be getting you that autoclave for Christmas after all."
Monica eyed him and decided she didn't want to know what an autoclave was. "Just for that, you get to cook dinner tonight."
"Me?" Chandler blinked. "Okay, but toast a la orange is going to be the main course."
Ross chuckled. "We'll figure something out." He opened the refrigerator. "What do you think, Chandler? Some kind of casserole?"
"If by 'casserole' you mean 'Chinese take out', then yeah." Chandler was already picking up the takeout menu Monica kept by the phone. "When's Phoebe getting home?"
Monica had been wondering when they'd get to that. "She's resting in bed. Try not to disturb her."
"Oh?" Ross closed the refrigerator door. "Is she all right?"
Before Monica could answer, the bedroom door opened. Monica looked over and saw Phoebe leaning heavily on a pair of crutches. One leg was covered from foot to just below her knee in a plaster cast. Phoebe's face was very pale, nearly white, and she was in obvious pain.
Nevertheless, she smiled widely. "Hi guys."
"Phoebe!" Ross almost ran across the living room, stopping a couple of feet away. "What happened?"
"A typographical error. Excuse me." She moved slowly past him.
Monica thinned her lips. "Phoebe, what are you doing up? The doctor said you were to rest as much as possible for the next couple of days."
"I have to go to the bathroom." Phoebe managed to get around the couch with both Chandler and Ross hovering around her. She made it without incident.
Monica called out just as she was closing the door. "Need help in there?"
"No, I can manage."
"Are you sure? Call out if you need help."
"Yes yes." Phoebe shut the bathroom door.
Chandler's eyes were wide as he approached the kitchen table. "What did she mean by a typographical error?"
Monica took a sip of her coffee. "I think it was the publisher's fault more than anything."
"The, the what?" Ross sounded totally confused.
"But Phoebe still should have known better." Monica found herself growing more and more amused by this. "It's what you get for not checking the source material first."
"Okay," Chandler said with his forehead furled, "if I understand you correctly, Phoebe broke her leg researching her term paper?"
Monica smiled slightly. "You could say that."
Further conversation was interrupted by Phoebe opening the bathroom door again. She looked even paler now, and made it to the couch before collapsing into it. Ross and Chandler immediately set about trying to make her comfortable, making her lie flat and gently elevating her leg by placing lots of pillows underneath it.
Finally Phoebe shooed them away. Ross and Chandler just sat on the coffee table and continued staring at her. "So, really," Ross said, "tell us what happened?"
"Oh, it's nothing. I had a belt fracture."
Monica shook her head. "Buckle fracture."
"Buckle fracture," Phoebe repeated. "The doctor said he'd never seen a buckle fracture on an adult before. I have very bendy bones." She grinned.
"What that means," Monica interjected, "is that it will probably heal quickly and without complications. She only needs to wear a short cast for a month, more or less, and she'll be perfectly fine afterwards."
"Oh, that's good." Chandler looked quite relieved. "Will you be able to work?"
"I think so. It may take me a little longer to move around the table and stuff, but I can manage." A little color was returning to Phoebe's cheeks. "After a day or two of rest, first."
Chandler looked over at Ross. Ross shrugged helplessly and asked, "Pheebs, want us to turn the couch so you can see outside?"
"Sure!"
Monica bit her lip but said nothing as Ross and Chandler lifted up either end of the couch and turned it to face the window. Phoebe beamed her appreciation, and commented just as the couch was being put down, "Oh look. Cute Naked Guy is really starting to put on weight."
Chandler went to look after the couch was put down. "I hate to tell you this, Pheebs, but I think he's veering away from 'cute'."
"Maybe," Phoebe said a little sadly. Her eyes moved around the window. "You know what we need?"
"Do tell." Ross was sitting on the arm of the couch just over Phoebe's head, looking down at her with concern.
"Plants." Phoebe waved her hand back and forth. "Something to bring life to the window."
"Plants." Chandler nodded. "Plants it is. Wait right here."
"Well, okay. But if I'm not here I'm out waltzing."
Chandler paused just as he was walking past her. "Did you... just make a joke? I mean, a ha-ha everyone-laugh kind of joke?"
Phoebe smiled. "What can I say? The pain is making me light-headed."
"Wow, you did it again. If I start seeing auras around people you'll have to answer for it."
Phoebe giggled slightly. Chandler moved towards the door with Ross in tow. Ross stopped at Monica. "Is it all right if we buy Phoebe some plants?"
Plants that drop leaves and dirt onto the floor? Plants that require daily maintenance? Plants that can have bugs and germs and all sorts of filthy things? Monica almost couldn't get the words out. "Sure. Just don't go overboard."
"Gotcha." Ross followed Chandler out the door.
Monica finished up her coffee and washed the cup. She went over to the couch and saw that in the meantime Phoebe had fallen asleep. With a relieved sigh Monica brought a small blanket out of the linen closet and covered Phoebe with it. Then she gratefully headed for her own bed. A nap sounded just about perfect right now.
.
Monica stirred, opened her eyes. The clock said it was after five, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out if it was morning or afternoon. Then she heard the sound of people talking in the living room and decided on the latter.
She stood up and stretched. She hadn't meant to sleep this long but she felt good. The only problem now would be getting herself back into a normal sleep schedule. Monica decided to have an extra vigorous workout late at night and hope that it wore her out enough to sleep.
Monica walked over to the dresser and peered at the mirror. Her hair was a mess, and she gathered it all up and pinned it into a bun. Good enough for now. She'd go fix dinner and take a shower afterwards.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Monica walked over to her bedroom door, opened it, and gasped in horror.
The ledge in front of the bay window was covered in plants. She literally could not see any of its surface. Plants were also hanging from the ceiling just in front of the window; Ross was at this moment standing on a kitchen chair and hanging another one. He looked over at her, his expression one of surprise and guilt.
"What are you doing!" Monica stepped out, walked over to the plants, resisted an urge to shove Ross off the chair. "What is all this?"
"We decided to create a vegetable patch for you, Mon. The taters will just lovely. You'll probably need to put up a scarecrow to keep the crows from pecking the corn."
Monica whirled and glared at Chandler. He cringed and half-turned away, lifting his arms as if fending off an attack. "Ah! I need a scareMonica. Quick, Ross, hand me a picture of Kip!"
"Go ahead, make jokes." Monica turned back towards the window. "You had no right to do this."
Ross stepped off the chair. "You said we could get a plant."
Monica shook her head. "A plant, yes. Not the Amazon!"
"I like it."
Monica whirled again but bit back the angry retort she had been about to make. Phoebe was still on the couch, propped up in a half-sitting position with her leg still elevated on some pillows and covered in ice packs. Her face was relaxed and neutral, which instantly made Monica wary. It was the same expression she had used when looking at Kip, and Monica did not at all enjoy the implications of having it directed at her.
Still, she had enough righteous anger to see her through. "That's way too much! I can barely see out the window any more."
"I can see just fine, and I'm lying on my back."
"But the plants... that many will create a huge mess. Think of all the dirt and leaves."
"I'll trim them and clean up after them."
"And who is going to water them every day?"
"I will."
"Phoebe..." Monica shook her head. "It's too much, it's much too much. I can't have this kind of mess in my living room."
"It's not a mess, and I won't let it become a mess."
"Phoebe-"
"Do I live here?"
The question brought Monica up short. "What?"
"Do I live here?" Phoebe cocked her head slightly. "Or am I just a long-term guest?"
"You, uh, you live here, I mean, you pay rent and everything."
"Then I get some say in what gets put into the apartment, don't I?"
"It's..." Monica trailed off. She couldn't claim any kind of landlord status because the lease was actually in her grandmother's name. And if Phoebe were of a mind to, she could expose the situation to the building owners and cause all sorts of problems. Not that she thought Phoebe was capable of any such thing.
Still, Monica felt that it was her apartment. Hers. Not Nana's, not Phoebe's. She worked hard daily to keep it clean and well-maintained. It was the first place she'd ever lived alone in. It just belonged to her in a way she couldn't adequately describe.
And now a formerly homeless woman was trying to lay claim to the apartment. Monica found herself breathing heavily as she fought against the urge to yell at Phoebe. It's my apartment, do you hear me? Mine and mine alone.
Phoebe seemed to sense a little of what was going on in Monica's head. She responded in a low expressionless voice. "If you want me to leave, I will."
"God, Phoebe!" Monica grimaced. "I didn't say anything about you leaving."
"If it's a choice between the plants staying or me leaving, which would it be?"
"Why does it have to come to that?" Monica gestured vaguely behind her. "I said you could have a few plants, I just didn't want that many."
"Well, I do. The apartment felt sterile before, now it's living and breathing. I need that, Monica."
"Need it so much that you have to deliver ultimatums?"
"I didn't want to deliver one until you yelled that I had no right to do this. I kind of have the feeling that if I don't make an ultimatum, I'll end up with no rights at all."
"Oh, Phoebe." Monica rubbed her temples. "You're my roommate and, hopefully, my friend. Do we have to fight like this?"
"I, I don't want to." Suddenly Phoebe looked to be on the verge of tears. "I hate fighting with you, I hate it so much. But... but I lived with a man once, and I let him... do things to me. He, he wanted to... I found out after I moved in that, that he was a... a pimp, and... and he wanted me to... to become..." Phoebe sniffled. "Monica, you tell me I have no rights, and I think of that man, and suddenly you make me so afraid, so afraid that... that I'll be forced to run away. Again."
"Oh God." Monica took two steps forward, dropped to her knees, and encased Phoebe in a hug. "Please don't run away."
"Please don't make me run away." Phoebe sounded scared and lost.
"I, I won't." Monica found tears spilling out of her eyes. "You, you can keep the plants, I, I'm sorry I said you have no rights."
"I want to, to keep living here and be your friend and everything." Phoebe tightened her grip. "I love you, Monica."
"Oh." Monica closed her eyes. "I love you too, Phoebe."
They held each other for a timeless interval, and Monica felt something shift inside her. It was still her apartment, but now it was Phoebe's, too. Phoebe had laid claim to a permanent residency in Monica's life, and Monica could no longer deny that Phoebe did have a right to do certain things with the apartment.
That thought was at once uplifting and sad. Monica couldn't help wondering if there was anything at all she could say was solely hers.
"I love you Ross."
"I love you too, Chandler."
"Let's have lots of babies together."
"Okay, but only if I can mount my entire fossil collection in the bathroom."
"Oh, then forget it, I'd rather die alone."
Their antics caused Monica to laugh, and she felt Phoebe quivering in amusement, too. She released the hug, wiped her eyes dry, and looked over at the guys with a stern expression. "Ross, put the chair back and wipe the seat clean. Chandler, check for any dirt or leaves that have gotten loose. Oh, and you both get to water the plants until Phoebe's cast comes off."
"Yes, Mon." Chandler and Ross exchanged glances, and she could see a combination of amusement and relief in their expressions. Clearly they hadn't enjoyed the confrontation any more than she had, and were glad that it had been resolved.
Monica moved into the kitchen and began to gather dinner ingredients. As she did, she thought of Phoebe, of the emotional fragility that still lurked underneath the happiness and joy she usually exuded. Still, there was a strength to Phoebe, the courage to leave a warm and secure place in order to avoid giving up her independence. Monica wasn't sure she could ever make the same choices Phoebe'd been forced to make.
But she was also certain that she would never have allowed herself to be maneuvered into having to make those choices. Phoebe was very much an impulsive person, unable to think about consequences. Her broken leg was proof of that. Monica felt a kind of cool satisfaction in knowing that she would never do anything impulsive and unthinking, that she would think through every decision and come to a reasoned conclusion about the best course of action.
Feeling a little better, Monica began cooking.
(to be continued)