The person following her sighed heavily. "Tell me again why we're here?"
"We're here to have a good time," Monica said firmly. "Don't start complaining, Chandler."
"But I was having a good time at home," Chandler said despite her warning. "Sitting in front of the television not moving brings a level of contentment I'll never find in this place."
"Yeah, well, give it a try." She hung up her coat and walked over to the bar. Terry was bartending, which surprised her slightly since he was the owner. Probably an indication of his financial troubles. "Two bottles, please."
Terry looked up and gave her a small tired smile. "Five-fifty."
She put seven dollars on the bar as he handed her the beer. "Is it true you're turning this into a coffee shop?"
Terry nodded somberly. "Visit us in six weeks, we'll be ready then. I have an interior decorator with some interesting ideas for the design of the place. I think you'll like it."
"Maybe." Monica handed one of the bottles to Chandler as he walked up. "I like the way it is now, though. Were you just not making enough money?"
"Liquor's expensive. Coffee's not so much. Excuse me." Terry moved off to another customer that was demanding his attention.
Monica sighed. "Well, that sucks."
"Does it ever." Chandler took a swig. "Where are we going to hang out now?"
"No idea." Monica looked around the bar. "Hey, the pool table's free. Rack 'em up, I'll be back in a minute. Get ready for me to whip your butt."
"Okay, but after that we're shooting some pool."
Monica smiled at him and found her way to the bathroom. She looked around, finding nostalgia even here. She sighed.
As she was washing up, Monica looked in the mirror. She'd put some effort into her appearance tonight even though it was only Chandler. Somewhere in the back of her mind had been the romantic notion that this would be a special night, that she'd find the man of her dreams on this, the last time she'd ever visit this bar. He'd sweep her off her feet and carry her away. It had been years since she'd had such fantasies; she wondered what their return meant. She hadn't made much of an effort recently to date. That needed to change.
Monica pushed herself away from the mirror and left the bathroom. Idly her eyes wandered around the bar, noting that there were more patrons than usual. Perhaps this was good, perhaps the bar could be saved after all. She walked up to Chandler, who was tossing the cue ball back and forth between his hands and looking slightly flushed. Monica wondered if something had happened and decided she wasn't all that curious about it. "You didn't rack the balls."
"Right. Sorry." Chandler didn't look at her, instead keeping his eyes fixed on a group of women in the back of the bar.
Monica smiled slightly as Chandler forcibly wrenched his eyes away and bent to the task of racking up the balls. Chandler, she noted, had dressed semi-nicely tonight - not that he ever dressed badly, really. Still, he probably had some vague fantasies of his own he'd been hoping to fulfill tonight. "So, any new women in your life?"
"Gladys moved into the cubicle across from me. She's fiftyish with two grandkids, but I think I got a shot if I can somehow maneuver her pet poodle out of the picture." Chandler lifted the rack away. "Go.
Monica laughed, lined up her shot, and let loose. "What about Joey?"
"Didn't we already go through this with Kip? You've got to try either of my parents if you want to set someone up with Joey."
"Oh, shush." Monica frowned; she'd dropped a solid on the break, but the stripes were better placed. She called them and sank her first shot. "I meant, couldn't he fix you up with someone?"
"I, er, I'm not quite sure I... I'd feel comfortable with Joey's castoffs. I mean, I'd spend every minute with her thinking, Joey didn't think she was hot enough to go to bed with, why should I be stuck with her?"
Monica tsked as she missed a bank shot. "Some of Joey's less-than-admirable qualities are rubbing off on you."
"I'll remember to feel morally repelled the next time he forgets which model he's supposed to meet for dinner." Chandler still wasn't paying much attention to the table or Monica, instead keeping his focus on the women in the back.
Monica stood next to him, following his gaze. Dressed rather nicely, a little out of place in this bar. They were chattering a thousand miles a minute and seemed oblivious to the rest of the world. Monica smiled and nudged Chandler in the ribs. "Want me to ask them over?"
"Good God, no!" Chandler looked at her in panic. "If I can't stand the thought of getting set up by my current roommate, how do you think I'd feel about getting set up by my former roommate's little sister?"
Monica shot a quick grin at him. "Well, someone has to display a sense of courage, you clearly have none whatsoever."
"I'll ask the Wizard for some the next time I'm in the Emerald City."
"You do that." For some reason, Monica also couldn't take her eyes off the women in the back. "It's your shot, by the way."
"Oh, that's why I'm holding this long wooden thing. Am I stripes or solids?"
"Solids." Monica felt her brow furrowing. There was something about the way one of the women was talking. Monica couldn't see her face, but the way she moved her hands, the way she reached out and touched one of the other women's hands when speaking to them, it seemed... familiar.
Then the women turned slightly, gesturing imperiously to a waitress, and Monica gasped. "Oh my God."
Chandler had begun to walk around the table but moved quickly back to her side. "What?"
"I know her. I went to high school with her."
"You, you did?"
"Yes. You remember, she was with us for those two Thanksgivings."
"Oh, oh her. The one Ross was so in love with."
"Yeah." Monica handed Chandler her cue stick, took a few steps towards the back of the bar. "Rachel, hi."
The woman looked up, blank surprise on her face. She was a stunningly different creature than Monica had last seen. Her hair was impossibly wavy, clearly the result of an expensive salon visit and long daily maintenance. Her makeup was heavier than Monica had ever seen, which was surprising considering how often Monica had envied her natural good looks. She exuded the smell of expensive perfume, her dress looked like it had never been worn before tonight, her jewelry sparkled even in the half-light of the bar.
No wonder Monica hadn't recognized Rachel Green at first. The girl she had grown up with was barely discernible in the package of glamour that sat in front of Monica now.
For a second it seemed as if Rachel wouldn't remember, but then she smiled. "Monica! Hi!" She seemed utterly flustered, and thrust her left hand at Monica. "Look! What do you think?"
Monica looked down, saw what was clearly an engagement ring, ostentatious beyond belief. She didn't know what to say. Monica was more than a little disappointed by Rachel's reaction. Rachel hadn't risen for a hug or even a handshake, hadn't invited Monica to sit. All she seemed to know how to do was to wave something gaudy at Monica in an effort to elicit compliments and congratulations.
For some odd reason she thought of Chandler, and that spurred her to comment, "Wow, you can't even see where the Titanic hit it."
Rachel seemed stung by the comment, which both pleased Monica and made her feel a little ashamed. Rachel babbled on. "His name is Barry, he's a doctor, thank you very much."
"Just like you always wanted." Monica forced a smile to her lips. "Congratulations."
"Thank you," Rachel said faintly. She was clearly struggling with the conversation. This was just like the phone call, Monica thought. Same topics, same awkwardness, same inability to connect. Rachel plowed on, appearing to be carried along purely by momentum rather than any desire to actually talk. "So, so how about you, are you seeing anyone?"
The last thing Monica wanted to do was bring up any of her recent trials and tribulations, not while she was standing here feeling like an intruder. "Not right now."
"Oh." Rachel frowned, spoke with apparent sympathy. "But that's okay."
"I know." Monica snapped her mouth closed before she lost her temper and said things she didn't want to say to Rachel. Good God, why had she come over here? Why had she bothered Rachel at all? She'd seen what was happening, known that Rachel didn't want her friendship anymore. And yet, she'd still held on to the faint hope that she was more than simply an embarrassment to Rachel. But clearly that wasn't true. Rachel would be happier if she could just pretend her past didn't exist, that she'd never had dumpy friends like Monica at all. Clearly every second Monica spent here was damaging Rachel's standing with her high society friends.
Time to bring this all to a close. "So, I'll get back to my friend."
Even though Monica expected the relief to appear on Rachel's face, it still hurt to see. "Sure, sure." Rachel smiled wanly.
Monica nodded and turned away.
Rachel's voice was almost a shout. "Can we please-!" Monica turned as Rachel cut herself off, swallowed, and continued in a quieter tone of voice that sounded almost plaintive. "Can we please have lunch the next time I'm in the city?"
Monica studied Rachel. For just the briefest of seconds, her glamorous veneer was stripped away, and Monica could see a woman pained by what had happened, desperate to regain contact with her childhood friend and utterly unable to figure out how to do that.
Monica breathed in, out, and responded with a smile that was surprisingly genuine. "That'd be great."
"Okay!" Rachel grinned, the old familiar grin that Monica remembered and loved.
"Thanks," Monica replied, more in gratitude for the grin than the lunch invite.
"Bye." Rachel's smile was now apologetic, and she quickly turned back to her friends and immediately launched into a discussion about something or the other; Monica didn't even try to listen.
She turned back towards the pool table, where Chandler stood, holding the cue ball again for some strange reason. He was watching her closely, and prompted, "So, how'd it go?"
Monica sighed. "Ten bucks says I never see her again."
"Oh." Chandler studied Monica for a minute. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Who knows." Monica put her cue stick on the table. "It's a life thing, I guess. It happens, your dearest friends one year are complete strangers the next."
Chandler laughed slightly bitterly. "I wouldn't know. I never had a dearest friend."
Monica paled slightly. "You... you haven't?"
"Not during my childhood. Not until I met your brother." Chandler smiled crookedly. "And you."
Relief washed through Monica. She reached out and clutched his forearm, just needing the contact, just needing to know that there was at least one person remaining in the world who liked being with her. "Let's get out of here."
"Right-o." Chandler placed the ball back on the felt and covered her hand on his forearm with his other hand, assuming a stance as if they were strolling through some English garden. "How about a walk though the park? If we're lucky we can catch the changing of the muggers."
Monica chuckled. "Lead the way."
She left the bar and Rachel behind, and knew that even if she never saw either of them again, she'd still be all right.
(to be continued)