The past few months had passed by lazily. Joey, despite his initial gaffes, had blended in well with the group. Monica could see why Chandler liked him; Joey was friendly, easy to talk to, and playful. He was a boy in a man's body. A very attractive man's body. Still, Monica had found no rekindling at all of the initial overwhelming attraction she'd felt. She liked Joey but would never pine over him as she had done Kip. Which, she had long ago decided, was a good thing.
Today had been a day she was going to go out and do some shopping. But seeing the sun outside had given her the impulse to just sit and relax. She'd have time later. Or tomorrow. Right now, just for now, she was going to take pleasure in doing absolutely nothing.
She heard the apartment door open. Someone started moving around inside, and Monica tried to figure out who it could be. The person hadn't opened the refrigerator or turned on the television, so it couldn't be any of the guys. It had to be Phoebe.
It was strange, though, that Phoebe hadn't called out to her or said hello. Perhaps it was because of all the plants; they blocked much of the view out of the window. Monica hoped that was all it was. The plants were still a sore subject to Monica; they were far too messy, and although she grudgingly admitted that Phoebe took excellent care of them, there were still leaves and things that occasionally spilled onto the floor. Monica hated finding them and tsked loudly every time she had to pick one up. Phoebe would always apologize when this happened, but lately her apologies had been a little terse.
Something had to give, eventually. Monica had started a campaign suggesting that Phoebe get rid of some of the plants to allow a less cluttered feeling around the window. Phoebe, who had named every single plant, so far hadn't been receptive. Perhaps in time.
Monica just hoped that Phoebe's failure to call out was because of the blocked view, not because of any lingering resentment. Monica still loved having Phoebe as a roommate. Well, perhaps loved was too strong a word. Greatly enjoyed. Better.
Phoebe continued to bustle about, and was clearly involved in some project. Monica idly wondered what Phoebe did when she was alone in the apartment. Such moments had to be rare, as Phoebe worked most days and the guys came over most evenings and weekends.
The door opened again, and Chandler said brightly, "Avon calling!"
"Hey guys!" Phoebe responded with enthusiasm, and leading Monica to believe that someone - probably Joey - was with Chandler. The refrigerator door was quickly opened, cementing Monica's belief. Joey was a big fan of Monica's cooking and was often fishing for leftovers.
"Where's Monica?" Chandler asked.
"Dunno. I think she said she was going shopping today."
Monica smiled; no one really could see her. She decided not to reveal herself for now. She was enjoying herself too much, and the sun was still enticing.
"Watcha up to, Phoebe?" This from Joey, confirming Monica's assumption.
"I'm trying to make my room more open and free. I'm glad you guys are here. Help me take this off."
"Uh, you sure?"
"Yup. I could do it myself but it's easier with you two."
"Hmm. Have a screwdriver?"
"Yes yes, over here."
"That's a hammer."
"Oh, I mean this."
"That's a Phillips. I need a flathead."
"A what?"
"Here," Chandler interjected.
"Thanks, dude. Hold it up a minute."
Monica's concern deepened. She could hear something being bumped around, and Joey and Chandler were making soft grunts of effort. Whatever they were up to, Monica was fairly certain she wouldn't like it.
Something went thump, causing Monica to half get up out of her chair. But there were no exclamations of dismay from anyone, only Chandler saying, "Where do you want this, Pheebs?"
"Just lean it against the wall over there. Thanks guys."
"Anytime." Joey's voice moved over to the couch. "What are these things?"
"That's what I'm going to hang up!" Something rustled. "What do you think?"
It was Chandler who answered. "That's awfully... hippyish, don't you think?"
"Hippyish?"
Joey piped in. "Y'know, like Goldie Hawn in Butterflies Are Free. Boy was she hot back then."
"Goldie Hawn?"
"Yeah. You get to see her in her underwear and everything."
Phoebe sounded slightly confused. "So you're saying I'm Goldie Hawn?"
"The early 70's Goldie Hawn, yeah. Except taller."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"She's in that new movie with Meryl Streep and Bruce Willis," Chandler said. "We could go check her out for ourselves."
"I am so confused," Phoebe replied. "How'd we get from beads to Bruce Willis?"
"Oh, that's nothing. I can look at a piece of toast and drive the conversation to Sofia Coppola's movie-destroying performance in The Godfather, Part III."
"Hey, that wasn't her fault," Joey said quickly. "That whole thing was a disaster from the get-go, Sofia had nothing to do with it."
"C'mon, it wasn't all bad. At least we get to see Jane Fonda's daughter in the nude."
"Niece, and you can't see that much. Now, if you wanna talk nudity, did you know the highest-grossing movie that Canada ever produced is Porky's?"
"Hey," Chandler said brightly. "Good things come from Canada. Do you remember the scene where-"
"Oh, you boys," Phoebe interrupted. "One of these days we'll have to talk about how silly it is to drool over pictures of naked women."
"Hey, it's not-"
"But not today," Phoebe said firmly. "All done, watcha think?"
"So," Chandler said after a moment, "what if you have company overnight? Won't Monica object?"
"Oh, Monica won't mind."
"Are we talking about the same Monica? The one that nearly broke my arm for attempting to eat a sandwich on the couch without a plate?"
"Yes, yes," Phoebe said absently. "Look, I'm going to take the leftover beads to my grandmother. She can make something with them, she likes to fiddle with things. I'll see you later."
"Bye Pheebs."
"See ya Phoebe."
Monica heard the door open and close. Now would be a good time to go inside and see what Phoebe was up to. But she was now feeling slightly guilty for having hidden out on the patio for so long, and decided to simply wait and see if she was discovered. She closed her eyes, already preparing the excuse that she had fallen asleep.
The guys, however, simply turned on the television. They flipped through several channels before Chandler said, "Goldie Hawn?"
"1970's Goldie Hawn."
"You should have seen her when she first moved in. She was more like a 1960's Janice Joplin."
"Who?"
"She was spaced out. I mean, even more so than she is now. She's so much more... focused now. She's almost like a normal person these days."
"Hey, man, watch what you say about her. She's more normal than you are sometimes."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." A pause. "You like Phoebe, don't you?"
"Well, yeah, she's neat."
"I mean, more than that. And I'm pretty sure if you made just the slightest effort she'd fall for you in a heartbeat."
"Do you think?"
"Man, do you see how she hardly takes her eyes off of you?"
"Well, yeah, but most women can't help it."
"Wow. That must be great."
"It is, man. I like being me."
"So why haven't you asked Phoebe out?"
"I, I don't know." Joey sounded slightly frustrated. "It's... I mean... she, she and Monica... they're women my age that I talk to all the time, and, and they're not family, and for some reason I haven't slept with either of them."
"That's really that unusual for you?"
"Man, it's never ever happened. Not since I was fifteen."
Silence for about a minute. Then Chandler said softly, "And you like it?"
"Yeah." Joey sounded awed. "Yeah, I mean, I kinda do. I... they... they're so hot, and... God, Phoebe has a nice butt and a great rack, but... I don't want to screw things up by sleeping with her. Y'know?"
"I do," Chandler said. "They're great people to hang around with."
"Yeah. And, and I kinda want to hang on to that for as long as possible. Y'know?"
"Yup. I absolutely know."
"Don't, don't tell either of them that."
"Mum's the word. But... have you ever considered the possibility that you could go out with Phoebe and not screw things up with her?"
"You, you mean like... be monotonous?"
"Monogamous?"
"That too."
"Yes, that's what I mean."
"Jeeze... limit myself to dating one woman?"
Chandler chuckled softly. "Sorry, Joe. I guess that's asking too much."
"You better believe it. How could I live?"
"It would be a nightmare, I agree." Chandler sounded amused.
"Man, nothing good on. Wanna go shoot some hoops?"
"Yeah, sure." The television was turned off. "Spot me ten points?"
"Yeah, right, ya wimp."
"Card-carrying member of Wimps Anonymous. The secret handshake is to flinch and cringe when someone tries to offer one."
"You're a funny man, Chandler. I'm gonna-" The door was closed, shutting off the conversation.
After perhaps two minutes, Monica got up. She stepped through the window into the once-again empty apartment. Her eyes immediately fixed on the entrance to Phoebe's bedroom. The door had been removed, and beads now hung in strings from hooks at the top of the door jamb all the way to the floor.
Monica thinned her lips. This was going too far. Phoebe should have checked with her first before doing this. And given that Phoebe did, in fact, have occasional overnight partners, this would things extremely uncomfortable.
Monica sighed and sat back down on the couch. This was the plant fight all over again. Phoebe was asserting her independence, which was a good thing. Chandler was right, Phoebe had made tremendous strides over the past couple of years. At the same time, Monica was having more and more problems adjusting to the new person Phoebe was becoming.
Monica drew a deep breath, held it, and let the frustration out. She'd adjust. Phoebe was someone she cherished, and Monica would just have to find a way around the minor annoyances.
Going to the closet, Monica pulled out the broom and began sweeping the wooden floors near Phoebe's door, cleaning up all messes, real and imagined, left behind by her roommate.
(to be continued)