Immediately her eyes fell on Phoebe, asleep on the couch. Monica growled. "Phoebe! Get your feet off the couch!"
Phoebe's eyes slowly opened. She stared fuzzily at Monica. "What?"
"I said, get your feet off the couch! I just cleaned that yesterday."
Phoebe still looked puzzled. She lifted up her feet just as Monica was swatting at them. Monica eyed the cushions as Phoebe sat up. They were all wrinkly now. She began fluffing them.
Phoebe stood up and wandered over to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door and stared inside.
After a few seconds, Monica thinned her lips, walked over, and firmly shut the refrigerator door. "Take a picture, then decide. You're wasting all the cold."
She turned back towards the living room, eyeing the area in front of the plants. No leaves, which was good. Perhaps it was time to dust the furniture. Yes, that would be good. There was probably an inch of pollen on everything by now.
Behind her the refrigerator door opened and closed again. Monica turned just in time to see Phoebe, sitting at the kitchen table, lifting a carton of orange juice to her lips. Monica's eyes widened. "What do you think you're doing!"
Phoebe froze, the carton still a few inches from her lips. She stared back at Monica, a blank expression on her face.
Monica shook her head. Did it have to be like this? Surely she didn't need to be yelling at Phoebe over silly things. "Here." She walked over, took the carton and two bananas Phoebe had also taken from the refrigerator. She walked over to the counter, set the bananas down, got a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with juice. She handed it to Phoebe. "Enjoy. Give me just two minutes and I'll make you a nice fruit salad. Okay?"
"Okay." Phoebe took a sip of the juice.
Monica went to the refrigerator, pulled out some grapes, an apple, and nonfat whipped cream. She quickly prepared a fruit salad, added a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg, and served it to Phoebe. Monica smiled, patted Phoebe on the side of her head a couple of times, and went back to cleaning.
She felt happy, contented. That was good, that was a better way to deal with her roommate. All was well with the world, they were both happy and light and breezy. They could keep this up forever, Monica just knew it.
As she dusted, Phoebe finished the fruit salad and cleaned up the kitchen a bit. Phoebe, by experience, knew to just rinse off the plate but not attempt to actually wash it. Monica smiled slightly as she straightened from dusting the legs of the coffee table. They'd both made adjustments, and it was working well.
Monica glanced at the clock. "I'm going change and head over to the bar. Hanging out with the boys tonight?"
Phoebe looked over. Her expression was unusually thoughtful and sober. Not blank, not the dangerous still expression she used when she was upset or angry. Just preoccupied. For someone like Phoebe, who rarely thought things over for more than a few seconds, this was quite a change.
She seemed to slowly rise out of whatever deep thoughts she was having. "No. I think I'll go visit my grandmother tonight."
"All right." Monica smiled, then ducked into the bedroom to change.
Phoebe was gone by the time Monica emerged. She shrugged and headed out, locking the door behind her.
It was definitely cool, bordering on cold. Monica zipped up her jacket. Fortunately it wasn't far to the bar.
She stepped inside and looked around. As usual the place was far from crowded, and she spied Ross sitting with her parents. Monica braced herself and walked over. "Hello, everyone."
Ross and Dad greeted her warmly. Mom pointedly looked at her watch. Monica sighed; she'd arrived ten minutes early just to avoid this. To no avail.
"So tell me," Dad said as she sat at the booth, "what's new in the life of a busy New York City socialite such as yourself?"
Monica smiled. Her father probably had quite the wrong idea of the kind of life she led. "I'm dating this guy, he's a bartender."
Ross frowned. "Do I know this guy?"
"Sure you do. Remember Jason?"
Ross shook his head.
"Oh come on," Monica said testily. "He watched that Knicks game on television with you at my place."
"Oh. The long-haired guy?"
"No. Never mind."
Mother lifted up her wine glass. "I'm certain Ross has trouble keeping track of the men that sprint in and out of your life, Monica."
Monica felt her jaw clenching. A waiter came over and she mumbled out an order for a beer and a salad. Everyone else had evidently already placed their orders.
Mother, meanwhile, was looking around. "What a... dingy place. Do you come here often, Monica?"
"It's, it's close, and convenient."
"And it's got a nice pool table," Ross interjected. "Care to play a game, Dad?"
"Sure!" Father got up and they headed over, leaving Monica alone with her mother.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Monica floundered around for a topic of conversation. "So, what are you going to do for Thanksgiving this year?"
"Oh, well, I was thinking of having your aunts over, and Nana may come up from Florida. And your father's brother and his family. Ross and Carol, of course. You can even bring this... Jason person if you like."
Monica had serious doubts the relationship would last another month but knew this wouldn't be wise to mention. "So, lots more than last year. Need any help preparing food?"
"Oh no," Mother said quickly. "I don't think so. You're busy, after all. I can manage just fine."
Monica swallowed a retort, managed a mild, "I'm a professional cook, you know. I'm used to making food for large number of people."
"I'm well aware of how you are around food, Monica."
The waiter arrived with her beer. Monica gratefully took it, noting in passing that the waiter had oddly-dyed short hair, and took a long sip.
"Don't drink too much, dear. Dinner isn't even here yet."
Monica put the beer down with perhaps a little more force than necessary. She should have guzzled down a couple before arriving. That might have made this a bit more tolerable.
"You look like you've put on a little weight, dear."
Monica shrugged. "Just two pounds, and that's only because I've stepped up my free-weights a bit."
"Oh, so you're saying it's just muscle?"
"Yeah."
"Being too muscle-bound won't help you keep a boyfriend, will it?"
"It's worked just fine for me so far." Monica cast her eyes across the room. Ross, where are you when I need you?
As if in answer, Dad and Ross came over. Father was smiling widely. "Nice play on the eight-ball, son."
"Thanks." Ross had his I-know-I'm-smart-but-I'm-trying-to-act-humble expression on his face. Still, Monica was grateful for anything that diverted attention away.
"So, Ross," Mother said with a smile, "have you and Carol decided on when you're going to give me a grandchild?"
Ross didn't respond immediately. Monica looked over, saw Ross attempting to hide pain behind a drink. Despair welled up in Monica. She'd been so sure Ross and Carol were over the hump. "How are things between you and Carol?" Monica found herself asking.
Ross put his beer down, looking down into it. "It's fine, we're, we're fine."
"No you're not," Monica said firmly. "Talk to me."
"What, what can I say?" Ross met her eyes. "What can I say that hasn't been said a hundred or a thousand times before? She, she's so distant, I, I can't quite figure out how to get to her."
"Well, how did you get to her in college?" Monica leaned forward. "What made you guys connect back then?"
"Oh, we were both, so, so interested in, in everything." Ross's eyes lost focus. "We went to Orlando that one year, went to Disney World and everything, it... it was the best."
"So do that again!" Monica gestured. "Get away, go somewhere together, rediscover the fun!"
"Don't, don't you think I've tried that?" Ross's voice rose just the tiniest bit before dropping back down. "Do you know how many times we, we've tried to rekindle... whatever it was we had? I just, I just don't know. She doesn't know, either, and... the whole thing is so... so frustrating."
Monica grimaced. "Want me to talk to her? See if I can help her figure it out?"
Ross shrugged. "You, you can try. I... I don't know how you can help."
She didn't know either, to tell the truth. Still, she plunged on. "I'd like to try. You guys can be so great together, I just know it."
"Well... thanks." Ross managed a small smile. "I, I'd do anything, to... to get back to where we were."
"I know." Monica reached out, put her hand on his arm. "I'd do anything to help you get back there, Ross, you know that."
"I do." Ross's smile grew a little wider. "I do, Mon. Thanks."
She smiled back. "You're welcome."
Dinner arrived, which not only broke Monica's train of thought but made her belatedly realize that her parents had been silent witnesses to the whole exchange. Monica suddenly felt ashamed of dragging out Ross's pain for his parents to see. But she didn't know what else she could have done; Ross hid it so well when he was hanging out at the apartment. She hadn't realized that it had gotten so bad again until just now.
Dinner proceeded, and Father filled the gap with various observations he found interesting. Ross responded, and even Monica contributed. Mother didn't say much, just ate her dinner slowly and methodically while watching Ross the whole while.
After dinner Father looked at his watch. "We better scoot if we're going to catch the play."
Mother nodded. "Ross, will you get our coats, please?"
"Of course. I'll pay for dinner while I'm at it."
"You will do no such thing, young man." Father stood up. "You have to save money for your children."
They argued as they moved off together towards the cashier.
Which, unfortunately, left Monica alone with Mother again. Her beer was empty and she didn't want to order another one yet. She looked around the bar, wishing desperately she could think of something innocuous to say.
"You know, I can't look after you children like I used to."
Monica blinked and looked back at Mother. "What?"
"You grew up and moved away. I don't see Ross nearly as much as you do."
"Uh, yeah, well, we both work in the city now."
"I know." Mother looked over at Ross, who was standing with Father as they each tried to give a credit card to a confused-looking man at the register. "I wanted him to be successful. I knew that his best chance for that would be here. But... I knew that I wouldn't... be able to support him like I once could."
Like you never did me. Monica bit back the response and simply said, "Uh huh."
"That's why..." Mother turned back to face Monica. "That's why it comforts me to know that... that you're here with him. I know he can turn to you if he needs the kind of support I can no longer give him."
Monica felt her face flush a bit. That sounded very nearly like a compliment. An almost-unprecedented thing coming from Mother.
The men arrived and Ross helped Mother into her coat. Father engulfed Monica in a hug and Mother allowed Monica to kiss her on the cheek. Father put his hand on Mother's back and seemed surprised when she stood still and didn't move towards the door. "Monica. I don't think I'll quite be able to cook everything I need in my oven for Thanksgiving. Could you bring the turkey, please?"
Monica felt a warm glow spread through her. "Sure!"
"Make certain it's big enough for everyone."
"Of course."
"And be sure it's well-cooked. Your father has a delicate stomach."
"I know."
"But don't let it become too dry, either."
"I won't."
Mother nodded. "Thank you. Jack, let's go."
She moved towards the door. Father looked vaguely surprised, but grinned at Monica and quickly followed.
That left Monica with Ross. He whistled softly. "Mom is actually allowing you to cook something?"
"I know!" Monica beamed up at him. "I'm going to make the best turkey ever, just you wait."
"I know you will." Ross seemed about to say more when he suddenly looked up.
A man stood over them, grinning foolishly at Monica. "Hey."
"Oh, hey," Monica responded with no great enthusiasm. "Ross, remember Jason Hurley?"
"Oh, sure," Ross said with almost-genuine warmth. "I'll leave you guys alone."
Monica watched as Ross put on his own coat. "Just so you know, no one's at the apartment."
"I was planning on checking up on Carol, actually." Ross waved at Monica and left.
Monica let Jason kiss her as he sat. "We weren't supposed to meet for another half-hour."
Jason shrugged. "I knew you were meeting your parents here, wanted to check them out. Man, your mom's hot for a fifty-year-old."
Monica mentally groaned; it was such faux pas' that had Monica convinced this relationship was going nowhere. "Look, Jason, I think it's best we not see each other anymore?"
The grin fell from his face. "What?"
"It's just not working out." She tried softening her voice. "Sorry. I'm just not in the mood to be dating anyone right now."
"But... but what about my lucky shirt? I left it at your place, remember?"
How could she forget. Some awful tie-dye thing. "I'll mail it to you."
"Mail my lucky shirt?" He stood up. "They'll ruin it! Or lose it. I need it now, man."
Monica rolled her eyes. "Go bother Chandler. He can let you into my place. Tell him I said it was fine."
"Chandler?"
"The guy who lives across the hallway from me."
"Oh, the actor dude."
"No, the other guy." This wasn't exactly how Monica was expecting the breakup to go. "Look, either of them can help you."
"What about your hot roommate?"
"She's not there," Monica said testily. "Look, if you want to wait until tomorrow-"
"No, man, it's my lucky shirt." He moved away, stopped, looked over his shoulder. "See ya, Monica."
"Goodbye, Jason."
After he'd left, Monica ordered another beer. She sipped it, looking around the bar. She'd been expecting to go out dancing or something. It hadn't been her plan to break up with Jason. Something about seeing the pain that Ross was in, though, made her realize how pointless it was to date someone she wasn't really attracted to.
Of course, who had she really been attracted to? Kip, of course. Chandler way back when, before the whole "fat sister" thing. Few others. The most serious relationship she'd had since Kip was Bobby, and even then, she'd known it was only a temporary fling.
She smiled bitterly. The Geller siblings. One struggling in an unhappy marriage. The other unable to attract decent people at all. Poor Mom and Dad; they might have to wait a long while until they had grandchildren.
Monica wrenched her mind from self-pitying thoughts and thought about what she might say to Carol. Her sister-in-law had kept a careful, measured distance between them. Something about Monica being too close to Ross, and being afraid to get Monica hurt by association. Monica was determined to close that distance. She liked Carol tremendously. And whatever trouble she was facing, Monica was going to force Carol to get over it and move on.
After an hour or two of thought, Monica paid for her beers and left. She considered going for a walk, but decided she was too emotionally spent. Getting to bed early might be just the thing.
She made her way home. The apartment was dark as she entered, but she did hear Phoebe, in her bedroom, obviously with a man. Evidently she'd come home early from her grandmother's. And just as obviously had somehow hooked up with a guy along the way. Monica shook her head; Phoebe was a lot freer with her sexuality than Monica truly felt comfortable with. Surely she was going to have to face some kind of dire consequences eventually. Monica kept her eyes away from the bead-covered entrance to Phoebe's bedroom and slipped inside her own room.
Monica changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. Immediately her mind began drifting off, as her thoughts moved lazily from turkeys to tie-dyed shirts. Something about that last thing bothered her, but she fell asleep before she could figure out what.
(to be continued)