The voices outside spoke more quickly. Just as Monica was opening her bedroom door, the front door of the apartment was being opened. Before Monica could register anything, the front door had been shut again and Phoebe was leaning against it, facing Monica with wide eyes.
Monica grunted. Phoebe had esoteric tastes when it came to men, and Monica was sometimes quite surprised by the people she'd shared breakfasts with. This was the first time, however, Phoebe had felt the need to hide who it was she was sleeping with. Just as well, though; Monica was in no mood to deal with weirdness.
She opened the refrigerator, vaguely thinking of yogurt for breakfast, and frowned. Something was amiss. She looked over at Phoebe. "Did you eat the spaghetti?"
Phoebe blushed slightly. She glanced briefly into the living room, then back at Monica. "Yes, I warmed it up late last night. For me."
"Oh." Monica tried to kick her mind in gear, wondering why Phoebe seemed so jumpy this morning. She shrugged it off and pulled out a pint of cherry yogurt. That would do.
Phoebe had already fixed some coffee so Monica poured herself a cup of that as well. As she sat down, Phoebe asked, "Aren't you up early?"
"A little." Monica glanced at the clock. "I wanted to clean the apartment before my sister-in-law stops by."
"Oh." Phoebe sat down at the table and seemed to relax slightly. "How are things with her and Ross?"
"Not good." Monica sighed. "I wish..."
"Wish what?"
"I don't know. I just wish things could be good."
Phoebe nodded. "Sometimes getting married isn't good. Sometimes it can be a big mistake."
"Maybe." She had no intention of getting married as young as Ross had. She smiled slightly at Phoebe. "Good thing neither one of us is married, huh?"
Phoebe blushed again. "Yeah, good thing," she mumbled.
Monica shook her head slightly as she dove into her yogurt. What was wrong with Phoebe today? Every subject seemed to make her upset. Monica had no time for it, not today. Phoebe could be a very entertaining conversationalist, but sometimes Monica yearned for a more sober and stable woman friend to talk with.
She finished her yogurt and stood up. "Please clean up after your plants before you leave for work, okay?"
Phoebe nodded.
"And is there something you can do to keep the beads from clicking all the time?"
"Uh... like what? Wrap them in felt?"
Fair question, actually. Monica sighed. "Just do what you can." She washed up after herself, then went into the bathroom to take a shower.
Feeling better, she put on a robe and walked out into the room. Joey was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal and reading the paper. He looked up at her and grinned. "Hey, need help drying anything?"
"Oh, Joey." She scowled at him.
He simply responded by widening his grin. In the past few weeks he had begun feeling comfortable enough to tease her, which was good because she liked Joey. On the other hand, she wished he wasn't so single-minded sometimes. Fortunately he did seem to have an uncanny sense of knowing exactly when to back off. Like now, for instance, when he looked down at the paper and said in a conversational tone of voice, "Thanksgiving is next week. Do you know if you can see the parade good from the roof here?"
"Not really. It's on the other side of the park. Sometimes you can see the balloons." Monica paused on the threshold of her bedroom door. She'd spent almost no time alone with Joey since the lemonade incident. She decided to try an experimental, "Are you spending Thanksgiving here, then?"
"Nah, going to my folks' place. Was thinking of inviting my sisters here to watch the parade, though, if the view was good."
"Oh. Well, honestly, television gives you a better view than the roof."
"All right. Was just a thought." Joey put the paper down. "What about you?"
Monica hesitated, then padded back to the kitchen and sat opposite Joey. "Well, Ross and I are going to visit our parents, too."
"Where do they live?"
"Uh, upstate a bit."
"Ah. So, rich are they?"
"Not everyone who lives upstate is rich."
"That means they are, doesn't it?"
"Uh..." Monica wasn't sure how to put it. Her parents weren't millionaires by any means, but they were probably quite wealthy compared to Joey's working-class parents. "They do all right. But not so all right that I got a trust fund or anything. The only money I have is what I make at the restaurant."
"Good." Joey smiled at her. "Money you make with your own hands is always the best kind. Of course, if someone were to drop a billion dollars on my head, I wouldn't complain too loudly."
Monica smiled back, enjoying this. They talked for a while, Monica probing a bit more about Joey's upbringing, his family, his early efforts to break away and pursue acting. He seemed to manage it without totally alienating either of his parents.
It wasn't until Joey stood up to wash out his bowl that Monica looked over at the clock. Her eyes widened; she'd wasted all the time she'd planned on cleaning, and she wasn't even dressed yet. Quickly she ran into the bedroom, ignoring Joey's slightly puzzled expression.
She was deep inside her closet when she heard the intercom buzz. Monica stuck her head outside and heard Joey answer it. Relieved, she plunged back inside, selected some slacks and a blouse, then stumbled back out into the bedroom. From there she heard Joey say something that ended in "...doing?"
"I'm doing well, thank you." Carol's voice was as friendly and vivacious as Monica had ever remembered, which might be a good sign.
"Uh..." Joey didn't seem to know how to respond to that, which seemed odd. "Monica's getting dressed, I'm sure she'll be right out. Make yourself at home."
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry, I kinda missed what your name was on the intercom."
"Carol."
"Joey. That is some really nice hair you have there."
"You're very kind. I see you put a lot of work into your hair as well."
"Uh, yeah." The odd tone to Joey's voice, which had nearly disappeared, now came back in full force. "I, uh, mousse it sometimes."
"Well, it looks magnificent, I must say. Are you a model?"
"An actor. Well, trying to be."
"Good. Good for you. I hope you do well."
"Th-thanks. Are, are you a co-worker of Monica's?"
"No, I'm her sister-in-law."
"Sister-in-law. Sister-in-law?" Joey's voice rose slightly in register. "That, that means you're Ross's, Ross's, uh, hey, great to finally meet you!"
Monica finally finished dressing and burst out into the living room. "Hi, Carol."
Carol was seated at the kitchen table. Joey was standing next to the refrigerator with a slightly panicked look on his face. They both looked over at Monica. Carol smiled widely. "Hello, Monica, it's so good to see you again."
Monica fixed Joey with a look. "Joey, I see you've met Ross's wife, Carol."
"Uh, yeah, yes I have." Joey looked flustered. "Well, you two probably have a lot to do, I'll just get out of your way. Nice, nice to meet you, Ross's wife."
Carol laughed. "Please do call me Carol."
"Uh, right." Joey grinned weakly, then beat a hasty retreat out the door.
Monica shook her head slightly. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, don't be, he's quite handsome in his own way." Carol grinned. "Your boyfriend?"
"Oh my no. Didn't Ross tell you about the lemonade?"
"Oh, that was him? Chandler's new roommate?"
"The one and only Joey." Monica moved into the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Sure."
Monica began preparing some. "Thanks for coming over."
"You're welcome. And thank you."
"For what?"
"For caring enough about your brother to try and save his marriage."
Monica stopped in the midst of measuring a scoop of coffee. "Was I that obvious?"
"Not you. Ross. He mentioned you might be calling me."
"Oh." Score one for Ross's inability to handle his own problems without becoming a complete buffoon. Monica continued making the coffee. "I just wanted to know if I could help you."
"I, I appreciate the offer, but-"
"No, I'm not going to accept that." Monica put the pot in place and turned around to face Carol. "Yes, I'm your husband's brother, but as you pointed out to Joey, I'm also your sister-in-law. I want to see you both happy. So tell me right now what it is that is bothering you. Let me help."
Carol bit her lip and looked down at the table. "I, I hear what you have to say, but... but the truth is, I don't know. Talking with you isn't going to change that."
Well, that hadn't worked. Monica considered Carol as the smell of hot coffee began to fill the kitchen. She had imagined this being easier. When the coffee was done she poured two cups and placed them on the table. Carol took one cup in her hands and blew on the surface to cool it, but didn't actually take a sip.
Monica took two good swallows, relishing the heat spreading down her chest. Then she looked back at Carol. "Look, just get over it. Whatever it is. If you can't figure it out after all this time, then it has to be nothing important. Maybe you're just hung up over thinking it has to be something wrong with you and Ross, when it fact there's nothing at all wrong with either of you."
"There has to be." Carol looked up, pain evident in her eyes. "There truly has to be something wrong. Don't you see? I... I wouldn't be so miserable if there wasn't something wrong."
"Nuh-uh." Monica put her coffee cup down, took the cup out of Carol's hand and also set it on the table, then grabbed Carol's hands in her own. "Try this, I mean really try this. There's nothing that either of you is doing wrong. You're both intelligent, fun-loving people who enjoy each other's company. Accept that, and accept that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with either of you, and you'll be happy. I guarantee it."
Carol was a little wide-eyed. Her gaze kept moving from Monica's face back down to their clasped hands. "Nothing... it's... it's not wrong..."
She leaned a little forward, as if about to whisper something. Monica leaned forward as well, turning her head slightly so she could listen a little better. Carol leaned in a little more, and Monica matched her until their faces were only a few inches apart.
"Oh my." Carol released her grip and stood up. "Oh no. Monica, I... I have to go."
"So soon?" Monica rose to her feet as Carol hastily backed away to the door. "Did I help?"
"I, I don't know, I..." Carol opened the front door. "Maybe you did. I, I have to think... think things through."
The door closed. Monica frowned at the air where Carol used to be. Something had happened there. What, exactly, Monica wasn't sure. Hopefully it would help Ross.
The door opened again. "Hey, did she leave?"
"Yes." Monica snapped her focus back on Joey. "It was only a short visit."
"Well, I hope it was fun." Joey stepped inside, wandered over to the refrigerator and opened it. "Mind if I have some of that coffee?" he asked as he reached in for some bread.
"Didn't you just eat?" Monica emptied out the cups she and Carol had been using. "And don't you have anywhere to be today?"
"There's some tryouts for a play later this afternoon. That's why I need a sandwich, to build my confidence."
"Whatever. Just try not to make a mess."
"I won't." Joey, having extracted what looked like half the contents of the refrigerator, now began assembling a monstrous creation. Monica eyed it warily but refrained from comment.
"Does Ross know?"
Monica blinked. "Know what?"
"That his wife's a lesbian."
Monica's jaw dropped open. "What gave you that idea?"
"Because she didn't... respond to me."
"Respond? You mean, she didn't fall all over you just because you said hello?"
"Well, kinda." Joey sounded defensive now. "All women do."
"They do not!"
Joey looked her right in the eye. "You did."
Monica blushed slightly. "Okay, but I'm not married. Carol is."
"Doesn't matter." Joey put his sandwich on a plate and carried it to the kitchen table. "Even married women want a little something of Joey. I mean, they don't act on it - sometimes - but I can tell that they want to. Carol, there was... nothing. Nothing at all."
"So that means she's a lesbian?"
"They're the only kind of women that don't find me hot."
"Oh God, Joey." Monica rolled her eyes. "Your ego is way too big for your own good."
"Hey, it's the truth!" Joey took a big bite of his sandwich, then continued talking as he chewed. "I can't help being so gosh-darned attractive to women."
Monica looked at the mayonnaise which now covered a good portion of Joey's upper lip and gave up. "Look, just don't mention that to Ross, okay? He's got enough problems to worry about besides your wild theories that only lesbians can't possibly find you attractive."
"Okay," Joey said with obvious reluctance. "Okay, maybe you're right and Carol just caught me in some bad lighting. You all know her better than me anyway."
"Good," Monica said with some relief. She turned and examined the living room to plan her long-delayed cleaning for the day.
Suddenly the image of Carol leaning in towards her flashed through Monica's mine. She shook her head slightly and dismissed the image. Joey's self-involved weirdness was getting to her, that's all. Monica walked towards the closet to extract the things she would need to clean up everything.
(to be continued)