Wednesday, June 2, 1999 – 9:35 AM
Chandler stood in the break room in his office, holding a cup of coffee, and thinking about what a colossal cluster his life had become.
He let out a sigh as he shut his eyes and tried to prepare himself, yet again, to go into the boss's office and ask him about a possible transfer.
The more he'd thought about it, the more it made sense to him. He'd save himself from any further heartache if he could just get the hell out of here.
He'd miss his friends, and he'd miss the bustle of New York, but he wouldn't have to watch her marry Richard and start a family with him.
He didn't know how, but he successfully managed to avoid her and Richard for the flight back home. He assumed that Monica hadn't told Joey about what he'd said to her during the wedding reception, because Joey hadn't mentioned it to him, and Chandler thought that his roommate would if he knew.
Rachel was in Greece on what would've been Ross and Emily's honeymoon. According to a phone call from Ross, he was still in London looking for his estranged wife. He had accidentally sent Rachel to Greece alone when Emily showed up and he chased her out of the airport and was still looking for her. Therefore, nobody knew of Chandler's plans to run away except him and Monica.
When he thought about telling them, he became queasy. He wanted to do it when they were all together rather than individually. He thought that would be easier and they would be less likely to talk him out of it.
"Hey handsome," someone said behind him.
He turned and realized that the woman was talking to him, as he was the only one in the break room, "Hi Annie," he said, and offered a small smile, "how are you?"
She smirked at him as she refilled her coffee cup, then turned and reached into the refrigerator for the half and half, "I'm doing great," she said, "how are you?"
Chandler chuckled once, "Ah," he started, then shook his head, "I'm doing okay, I guess."
She moved a little closer to him, stirring her coffee slowly, "Did you have a good time on your vacation?"
He chuckled once again, "Uh, well…"
She smiled at him and held her hand up, "I've got a conference call I've got to get to. I'll tell you what, why don't you save your vacation story for when you ask me out, and we'll talk about it then, okay?"
She smiled at him, then winked as she turned and headed back out of the break room. He watched her as she left, his heart pounding in his chest. A year ago, he would've jumped at the chance to ask someone like her out.
But now, he felt like he was attached to something that wasn't real. He felt as if he was in a relationship with someone who wasn't in a relationship with him. And as ridiculous as that sounded, he felt committed to her, and he wasn't. Never had been.
How in the hell was he supposed to stay?
He rubbed his forehead and put the coffee down, then pulled on his sports coat sleeves, smoothed the front of his shirt down, and fixed his tie.
He had to do it. For his own sanity.
He had to start over.
Taking in a deep breath, he approached his boss's secretary's desk slowly, "Hey, Danielle," he said, then stuck his hands in his pockets, "is Mr. McMurray available?"
She looked puzzled, "How did you know he wanted to see you?"
Chandler lifted an eyebrow, "Uh, I didn't," he said slowly, "I wanted to talk to him."
"He just told me to ask you to come to his office five minutes ago," she said with a chuckle, "I got a phone call, but I was about to come to your office and tell you that he wanted to see you." She giggled, and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh, well…"
"Are you psychic or something?" She asked, laughing more now.
Chandler smiled at her and chuckled nervously, thinking for a moment how much better his life would be if he really could see the future, "No, not psychic, not yet anyway."
She smiled at him again and waved for him to follow her into the boss's office.
"Mr. Bing is here to see you, sir," Danielle said to him, then nodded politely at Chandler as she walked back out of the room and shut the door behind her.
"Bing!" He exclaimed and slapped his giant hand into Chandler's.
"Hi, Mr. McMurray," Chandler said, shaking his hand.
"Hey," He let go of Chandler's hand and, as usual, gave him a bro-like slap on his bottom. Chandler winced and pressed his lips together. He didn't want to complain about the still very inappropriate action, "What did I tell you about calling me Mr. McMurray?"
"Well, I…"
He waved his finger at him, "Mr. McMurray was my father's name, and I am not him. You call me Doug, alright?"
Chandler nodded at him and to avoid any more slaps to his butt, he cleared his throat, "Doug, right. Sorry."
He nodded once, "Good, now have a seat," he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. Chandler sat down slowly in the chair and watched as Doug sat down in his chair, then leaned back in it and held his clasped hands together in front of him.
"So, Bing, tell me, do you like working here?"
Chandler pressed his lips into a tight line so he wouldn't lie to him.
Because the truth was, no, he did not like this job. The numbers seemed to run together most days, and the endless fighting with the W.E.N.U.S. and the A.N.U.S. had gotten old a long time ago. But he was good at it, and the career paid him well. He had never really made the effort to look for anything else because he was making good money and saving a lot of it for the future.
A future that consisted of what? He didn't know. He had a fantasy in his head of a wife, kids, a house, a car…the kind of life that seemed ridiculous now. So, what was he saving the money for?
A time machine, he thought. That would be money well spent.
He cleared his throat and hoped he hadn't been silent for as long as he thought he had, "Uh, well, yes, sir. I do, but I wanted to talk to you about something."
Doug turned his head and moved his clasped hands to arms crossed, "Oh? What's on your mind, Bing? You look troubled."
Chandler almost laughed at him again. If that wasn't the truest statement anyone had said, ever.
"Uh, well, I've…" he sighed, "I've got some stuff going on and I was kind of hoping to talk to you about possibly transferring to another location."
"Another location?" Doug asked and sat forward to lean on his desk, "Like, where?"
Chandler shrugged, "Wherever there's an opening and that can take me, you know, pretty soon, would be best."
Doug turned his head, "Listen, Bing," he said, shaking his head, "I could find you a position available in another location, and you could move laterally, but you'd be making the same thing you're making now. Nothing more, nothing less."
Chandler nodded and opened his mouth to agree to such terms, but Doug cut him off, "And, I actually called you in here to promote you."
He snapped his head up and stared into Doug's brown eyes, "What?"
Doug chuckled and nodded, "I wanted to offer you a promotion," he repeated, "Vice President."
Chandler swallowed, smiled, but then shook his head, "Uh, well," he sighed, "I thank you, sir, I really do," he started, "but I really should move on, you know, from New York. And honestly, Regional Vice President isn't worth what I will have to endure if I stay here."
Doug shook his head, "Bing, I wasn't talking about Regional V.P.," he said, "I am offering you National Vice President. Directly below me."
He felt his mouth fall open from shock, "Excuse me?"
"Jeffrey Strickland is leaving," he said, nodding at the younger man, "Or hadn't you heard?"
Chandler nodded slightly, "Well, yeah, I heard, but I…"
"His position is available," Doug continued, "And I talked it over with the C.E.O., and you, Bing, are the only one qualified within our district to take his place. You are an excellent supervisor, you do an outstanding job with your work, and you are an exceptional employee."
He swallowed again, looked down at his shoes, and closed his eyes. He didn't think any of those things Doug just told him were true. He didn't like this job, and if Doug had walked in on him even once during the many times Chandler had fallen asleep at his desk, he wouldn't think he was such an exceptional employee.
"Sir, I don't know…"
"Bing," Doug interrupted, "I can tell that something is going on in your personal life. And I don't want to pry, but this is quite a career jump for you. If you turn this down, another opportunity like this probably won't happen for many, many years."
He shook his head again, "I appreciate it, sir, but I think a move might still be the best option for me," he said softly.
Doug sighed, "I'll tell you what," he said, then picked up a Manila envelope and passed it to him, "Here are all the details of the job offer. Why don't you take it, read it over, really, really, consider it, and give me an answer at the end of the week, okay?"
Chandler looked down at the folder in his hands, "That's in two days," he mentioned.
Doug nodded, "I was supposed to have Johnson an answer last week, but you weren't here," he said, "so I actually need a decision fairly quickly."
Chandler sighed, shook his head, and stood from the chair, "Okay."
Doug stood too and stuck his hands in his pockets, "Bing," he called, and Chandler turned back to him, "if you want to transfer to another location, there's a position open in Atlanta," he said, "I can get you there, but, as I said, this is a great opportunity here, and I don't think you should pass it up."
He looked down at the folder again, then back up at his boss, "Thank you," he said, then cleared his throat, "I appreciate the opportunity, really," he said.
Doug watched as Chandler left his office, took a right turn, and headed back to his own.
Chandler nodded politely to his assistant as he passed her, then took the messages from her when she followed him with the small stack of paper, "Do you need anything else, Mr. Bing?"
He put the folder on his desk and shook his head, "No, no thank you." She nodded at him and closed his office doors behind her when she left again, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Minutes passed as he stared at the envelope in front of him, his last name in capital, bold black letters, and the word confidential in red behind it.
Opening this envelope was not a good idea. It would mean that he was considering staying here, in New York.
But as much as he thought he wanted to leave, at the same time, the idea of starting over scared him. New apartment, new job location, new coworkers, new…friends?
How would he ever, ever meet friends as great as the ones he had in New York?
He picked up the envelope, again, and hit it against his desk, then let it go and ran his hands through his hair as he leaned back against his office chair, his eyes staring up at the ceiling above him.
When did his life become so complicated?
Monday, June 14, 1999 – 6:37 PM
Monica picked up a pillow from the couch and hit it a couple of times to fluff it up a little. She looked around the room at her cleaning job. She'd dusted, vacuumed, mopped, and cleaned the windows.
She'd been doing a lot of cleaning lately, even more than normal, in a desperate attempt to get Chandler Bing off her mind.
Things had only gotten worse since their return to New York, she hadn't seen him or even talked to him. She went across the hall and stood at his door a couple of days ago, wanting to get everything out on the table between them and get this figured out, but talked herself out of knocking. Because if he didn't want to talk to her, then she didn't want to talk to him.
She rolled her eyes at herself because that was completely not true.
She went over her cooking plan in her head because Richard would be there soon. She'd promised him dinner and told herself that she was going to try to have a romantic evening with him.
She had candles set up in her bedroom, matches on the ready to light them. She'd shaved her legs and picked out her favorite nightie for after-dinner activities.
If she could get her mind off of Chandler long enough to do such things.
She sighed at her thoughts she wasn't going to have and put the vacuum away. She looked over the apartment once again, then made her way to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. When she shut the door again, one of the magnets slid down from its position on the refrigerator.
She looked down at it and pulled it off, her thumb rubbing over the picture magnet. She sat down at the table and continued to stare, the memories of how she obtained it flooding back to her.
Sunday, March 12, 1995 – 10:42 PM
"Come on Chandler, if we get this one, we win!" Monica said and patted his arm as Chandler nodded and stood.
He and Monica were partners in a game of Pictionary, Ross and Phoebe were the second team, and Rachel and Joey the other. They had all agreed to play with Monica if she promised not to throw things if she were to lose. She agreed but the area had been swept to make sure that nothing sharp was in her general zone anyway.
He looked at his word, nodded confidently, then walked to the drawing board.
"Forty-five seconds," Ross said, and held up his stopwatch, "and…go!"
Chandler quickly drew the stick figure and a veil, and another stick figure with a bow tie.
"Wedding!" Monica yelled, and Chandler quickly shook his head at her and held up his finger. He drew another stick figure with a square-like thing in his hands, then black lines coming from the top of it, "Oh! Photographer!" He nods excitedly and draws another square inside of a square.
"Twenty seconds!" Ross informed them.
Chandler drew another set of stick figures in the squares, again one with the veil, the other with the bowtie. He pointed to the first stick figure he drew, then to the small square with the stick bride and stick groom inside. "Taking pictures! Hired help!"
"Ten seconds!" Ross said.
Chandler circled the square with the marker several times, "Picture! Photograph!"
"Yes!" Chandler yelled excitedly, then capped the marker as Monica ran up to him and jumped into his arms.
Chandler hoisted her into the air as the other teams watched their winning celebration, less-than-thrilled. When he put her down, Monica grabbed his face and kissed his cheek, "You are an awesome partner!" She cheered.
He grinned at her and tears his stare from her face to look at their friends, who all are staring at them as if they are about to do a massive eye roll.
"They probably cheated," Ross mumbled as he and Phoebe told the group goodbye minutes later, then walked towards the door to head home.
Monica snapped her head towards her brother, but Chandler gave her a slight shake of his head, asking her not to argue with him, "We won, and he's mad, that's why he said that."
"So, I should let it go?"
"Yes," Chandler said, then put his hands on top of hers as they sat at the kitchen table, "just let it go. And remember that we are victorious."
"Yeah!" She said and squeezed his hands as she let him go and picked up her bottle of water, "You and I should always be partners, by the way. We work well together."
He chuckled, "You think so?"
"I really do."
"That wouldn't be fair to the others, though, if we always get paired up."
"I don't care about the others; I care about the winning. And you and me? That's winning." Monica said pointedly.
"Well as long as Chandler plus Monica equals winning, we should do it."
She began to giggle as her face turned red, "That sounded different than what you probably meant, Bing."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her, "Maybe I did mean it like that," he teased.
She rolled her eyes and pushed on his chest, "In your dreams."
"Yeah, that's where they stay," he replied, then smiled at her, "I should go," he said, stifling a yawn, "it's getting late."
"Oh wait," Monica said and stood quickly, "I almost forgot to give you this." She walked over to her purse and moved things around in it.
Chandler stuck his hands in his pockets and watched her curiously, "I don't know how you women find anything in there," he commented.
She ignored his comment and finally found what she was looking for, then handed it to him with a grin, "Here it is."
He took it from her, then looked up at her, an eyebrow raised, "A peacock?"
She chuckled softly, "I saw it and thought about you when you got bitten at the zoo a few years ago, so, naturally, I had to get it," she laughed a little more.
He chuckled back at her, "Gee, thanks Geller," he said, "I love being reminded of that traumatizing point in my life."
She lifted her eyebrow at him, "Traumatizing? Aren't we being a little dramatic?"
"It didn't feel very good," he said, a slight pout on his face.
"Well, duh, I mean, no one bites you if they don't want it to hurt."
He slowly looked up from the magnet, a giant grin on his face, "Oh, I beg to differ," he said softer, his voice slightly lower.
She laughed as her face flushed with red and slapped his shoulder, "Shut up, Bing."
He chuckled too and put his arm around her shoulders, "Thank you, for the wonderful memory of this point in my life that I will always remember every time I open the refrigerator."
She patted his hand on her shoulder, "Any time!"
He squeezed her shoulder and bumped it once more as he let her go, "Night Mon."
"Goodnight."
Monica sat in her kitchen the next evening, writing her grocery list down on a notepad when her apartment door opened. She looked up at Chandler as he approached her, "Hey," he said happily and sat down next to her at the table, "I got you something."
She chuckled lowly, "Oh, you did?"
"Yeah," he replied and held it out for her to see.
She took the magnet from his hands and observed it carefully. It was a picture of a swan at sunset, "A swan?" She asked, then looked up at him, "It's beautiful."
He smiled at her, "Yeah, I wanted to get you some sort of bird like you got me," he said, "and I found this one and thought, 'this reminds me of Monica'."
"I remind you of a swan?"
He chuckled and looked down at the table, then met her eyes, "Well, just in the same way that they're beautiful, smart, graceful, and one-of-a-kind."
She looked at him and fought the tears that wanted to come to her eyes, "That's so sweet, thank you, Chandler. I love it."
"You're welcome," he said, then grinned at her, "and thank you for my cock…my peacock." He winked at her as she rolled her eyes dramatically and slapped his forearm. She tried not to smile as he stood from the table, kissed her forehead, and loosened his tie, "I'll see you in a few."
"Hello, earth to Monica," Monica snapped out of her thoughts and looked up as Richard waved a hand in front of her face. He chuckled, "Wow, you were in some pretty deep thought there."
"Yeah," she said, then chuckled at herself, "sorry."
"Whatcha got there?" He asked, pointing to the object in her hands.
"Oh, just a magnet a friend got me a few years ago," she replied, "it slid down the refrigerator when I shut the door earlier and I took it off because I didn't want it to fall."
"You like swans?" Richard asked.
She nodded just a little, "Yeah, I do." She smiled at him and shook her head to try to get back to the present time, "Hi."
"Hi darling," he said, then kissed her, "may I use your phone? My cell phone died, and I was in the middle of a conversation with Michelle."
"Oh, yeah, sure," she said and gestured to the handset on the end table next to the couch, "tell her hello for me," she said with a grin.
"Thank you," he said and moved toward the phone.
She stood and took a couple of steps towards the refrigerator and put the magnet back in its place. God, she missed him.
"I'm going to get started on dinner."
He grinned at her and kissed her temple as he walked by again, "Can't wait." He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and gestured with his head towards the balcony with a wink.
She nodded once and smiled again, watching as he moved away from her and to the balcony.
She sighed and pulled out her knife as she began to chop an onion to cook his favorite dish. She hoped that if she made him his favorite, it would help some of the guilt get from her shoulders.
They had been back together for almost a month, and she still hadn't been able to get over Chandler long enough to have sex with Richard.
The man was a saint. He didn't deserve this, and it wasn't fair to him, but she just couldn't do it before.
Every time Richard touched her or kissed her, the memory of her and Chandler's night together shot into her brain like a flash of lightning. The way he touched her, said her name, his passionate eyes…nothing had ever compared to that before. And she couldn't stop thinking about it, as hard as she tried.
She put the onions into a pan and turned on a burner, then moved to the refrigerator to get heavy cream. She looked on the top, middle, and bottom shelves, "Ah damn it," she whispered.
Standing to her full form, she glanced at the clock. Rachel should be getting out of work right about now, so she could catch her and ask her to stop by the store and pick up some heavy cream before she got home.
Phoebe was meeting Rachel at the guy's apartment to head out for a girl's night, so that Monica and Richard could have a romantic evening at home, per Monica's request. Richard had suggested that they could have dinner at his place, but Monica used the excuse that she preferred cooking at home, and luckily, Richard didn't push the issue too much.
She moved over to the sidebar of the kitchen and picked up the corded phone and started to press a number when she heard a woman's voice on the other end, "Oh shoot," she said quietly, just remembering that Richard was outside on the phone with his daughter.
She started to hang up, but stopped when she heard her name.
They were talking about her.
"Dad, I can't believe you are dating Monica again," Michelle said, "what happened?"
Richard sighed into the phone and Monica turned to watch him through the window. He blew out a long puff of cigar smoke before he answered, "I love her, sweetie," he finally said, "I want to marry her and spend my life with her."
A small smile formed on Monica's face, and she moved the phone from her ear to hang it back up, but Michelle's next question stopped her again.
"I thought you two couldn't make it work because she wants kids?"
"Yeah, well, that was before."
Monica smiled and tapped her finger lightly on the counter, "So you've changed your mind now?"
The pause before Richard's response made Monica's stomach churn, "I don't know," he finally said, "I want to give her what she wants, but…" He stopped and Monica watched as he leaned forward and squeezed the bridge of his nose, "No, I just don't want another kid. I'm a grandfather already, and what man do you know is a grandfather before he's a dad again? I'll be 70 years old when he or she graduates from high school and 80 when he or she gets married. The kid will be the laughingstock of its class." Monica watched as Richard raised a hand to rub his forehead.
"So, what are you going to do?" Michelle asked.
Tears sprang into Monica's eyes as she waited. Somewhere deep down, she knew that this was going to happen. He had gotten back into her life and promised her that they could get married and have a family, but he clearly never wanted that at all.
"I'm hoping that Monica and I can compromise. Maybe I can get her to travel with me and see the world with me. If she spends enough time with the kids that are already in our lives, maybe that will be enough."
Monica's heart sank to the ground beneath her feet.
She couldn't believe that Richard had just said those words.
"Yeah, maybe, Dad," Michelle said, then sighed, "I wish you luck with that."
Monica didn't even know that she still held the phone to her ear, and she felt as if her world stopped, her head spun, and she felt sick to her stomach. She had to grip the counter as she felt as if she was about to pass out.
She couldn't even hear what they were saying anymore, it didn't matter. The only thing that did is what she heard before.
What was she thinking? Of course he still didn't want children.
He didn't before, why would he now?
She felt like a fool.
She tried to get herself together, but her heart felt as if it was breaking inside her chest. She lifted a shaky hand and as quietly as possible, pressed the switch down and returned the handset to the base.
"Shit," she whispered to herself, running over to the now black chopped onions she'd left in the pan earlier. She turned off the stove and put the pan in the sink, listening as the hot metal sizzled against the water drops. She ran a hand over her face as she tried desperately to calm herself down.
What was she doing? What were she and Richard doing?
Pretending that he had changed and wanted kids when he didn't at all was stupid of her.
She took in a shaky breath and walked over to her purse to dig out her cell phone. She called Rachel, who wondered if she was okay from the sound of her voice, and asked her to bring home the heavy cream.
She had to go on, she had to continue. She wasn't supposed to know what Richard said on the phone. He didn't say it to her, he said it to his daughter, on a phone call.
But now, was she still supposed to pretend that they wanted the same things?
She began to chop more onions to start the meal over again.
Monica tried desperately to think of anything else while she cooked the meal when she heard Richard come back into the apartment from the balcony, "Oh my, it smells so good in here," he said and stepped over to her. She shut her eyes and tried not to jolt or cringe when he touched her. He kissed her cheek and moved back to the couch, "Can't wait to taste it."
She didn't reply. She felt as if she didn't know what to say to him anymore.
She only looked up again when the apartment door opened, "Hey guys," Rachel said, then walked over to Monica, "here's your cream."
"Thank you," Monica said, and Rachel furrowed her eyebrows at her.
"What's wrong, honey?" She asked, after looking over her shoulder to make sure Richard wasn't paying attention to them. He was watching ESPN and ignoring them.
Monica poured the cream into the saucepan and turned her head back to Rachel, "I can't talk about it right now," she whispered.
"Later?" Rachel asked.
Monica felt tears spring up in her eyes yet again, but she was determined not to let them fall. "Yeah," she said brokenly.
Rachel put her hand on Monica's arm and squeezed it, "I'll come over later, okay?"
She swallowed and nodded.
Her long-time friend stared at her for another second before she turned and began to walk to the door, "Night, Richard," she said, "you guys have a good evening."
Richard waved and told Rachel goodbye as Monica resumed cooking.
"What did Rachel bring you?" He stood from the couch and walked over to stand behind her again.
She shut her eyes for a moment and hoped she could talk to him as if nothing was on her mind, "Um, we didn't have any heavy cream," she said, "I needed it for the sauce."
"That's unlike you to forget an ingredient for a meal you're cooking," he pointed out with a chuckle. She only rolled her eyes as he sat down at the table, "Hey, how's Ross doing since the wedding?"
She shrugged a shoulder, "Ok, I guess. Emily wouldn't return his calls for a couple of weeks, and when she finally did, she told him she'd move over here and then started to demand that he sell all his things and move," she moved to turn a burner down, "she wanted him to stop being friends with Rachel, and he didn't want to do that. Even after all of that, he asked her if she could trust him, and she told him that she couldn't when it came to Rachel. Their marriage is over."
"So you're telling me that he didn't want to give up Rachel for his wife?"
Monica pressed her lips together and stirred the sauce, "Yeah, well, he loves Rachel."
Richard rolled his eyes a little, "But he married someone else. You would think even if he does love Rachel, he could let her go and be with his wife completely."
She turned and looked at him, "I don't think it's that simple."
He met her eyes, nodding slowly, "Could you do it?"
She felt her heart rate speed up as she stared at him, narrowing her eyes a bit, "What?"
"If you were in Ross's situation, could you give up one of your friends for the man you loved?"
She turned back to the stove so that he couldn't see her facial expression, "I would hope that the man I am marrying understands that I love my friends dearly and no, I wouldn't, couldn't, just give them up."
Richard rolled his eyes behind her back, then shook his head in disbelief, "I guess our opinions differ in that matter," he said to her.
"Guess so," she answered. A few minutes of silence passed between them, so she cleared her throat, "Uh, dinner will be ready in about 5 minutes."
He smiled, "Good," he stood and walked over to the sink to wash his hands, "I'll set the table then."
"Okay," she said and picked up seasoning with her fingers to add it to the dish. "How is Michelle doing?" She asked.
Richard glanced at the back of her head, "She's doing good," he said, "she says hello."
Monica moved her tongue over her teeth, then glanced over her shoulder at him, "Was she surprised that we're dating?"
He chuckled and stepped over to her, placing his large hand on her hip, "Maybe a little."
She smiled weakly at him and fought the urge to ask what else he talked about with his daughter.
"Are you alright?" He asked as he folded the napkins.
"I'm fine," she said, then shut her eyes.
"You seem upset about something," he commented.
"No, I'm fine," she said again. The oven beeped and she turned, then bent down to get the bread out of it. She grabbed two plates from the cabinet and began to serve the food.
He lifted his eyebrows at her tone but didn't say anything as he sat a fork and knife down on the napkins.
She needed to lose the attitude towards him, she knew she did. She took a deep breath and decided to pretend she didn't hear his conversation with Michelle earlier, and that Chandler wasn't at the forefront of her mind.
She set the plate down in front of him and he finished pouring wine in the glass for her. She smiled as thanks, "Well, dig in," she told him.
He leaned over and kissed her soundly on the lips, "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, then picked up his fork, "this looks divine."
She took a few bites of her dinner and put her napkin in her lap. She watched him for a few moments and shut her eyes for a second.
"Monica, honey, what's wrong?" He asked softly, "Something is bothering you, I can tell."
"Richard, I-," she had to stop and collect herself again. She put her fork down next to her plate and crossed her arms in front of it on the table, "I was in a rush to catch Rachel before she came home to ask her to bring the heavy cream, and I um," she wiped at another tear, "I picked up the phone while you were on the line with Michelle."
He looked away then and put down his fork as silence washed over them. He sighed and shut his eyes for a second, "Monica…"
"You don't want children, do you?"
He opened his eyes to look at her, "This isn't the way I wanted to talk about this," he commented.
She turned her head as she stared at him, "Oh, really? So when were you planning to tell me that you don't want a family?"
He took her hands in his, surprised that she didn't pull them away, "I want you," he said, his voice even, "I want me and you for the rest of my life."
She chuckled once in disbelief, "You're avoiding the question," she said.
He sighed, "No, I just don't know how to honestly answer," he responded then let out the breath he'd been holding in. "Michelle and Tim were both surprised when I told them that you and I were dating again," he started, then cleared his throat, "and they were concerned that I wasn't making the right decision because of what happened between us last time."
Monica moved her hands from his so that she could wipe her tear-streaked face.
"So, I told them that I wanted to be with you, no matter what it takes. And, that is true. It was true then, and it's still true." He put his hand on her forearm and rubbed the skin there with his thumb, "So when I told you that I would do the kid thing again, I was saying that because I wanted you back, and I meant it at that moment."
"God, Richard," she said, then stood from the table and walked over to the picture window. Tears continuously streamed down her face now, her heart shattered into a million pieces, "I don't even know what to say to you," she said brokenly.
"Wait, honey," he said, then approached her, turning her gently so that she faced him again, "I've thought about this over and over. If Michelle has another kid or Tim has his first kid in a year or a year and a half and then we have a kid," he said, his hands growing restless as he gestured wildly, "I'll have a child and a grandchild that's the same age! That's so," he groaned in frustration, "that's so strange to me."
"Why do you care so much about what people think?" She responded angrily, "If you love me and I love you and we're married and happy and we start a family why does it matter how old you are or what Michelle and Tim are doing or what anybody else thinks?"
He sighed and let his head drop, shaking it slowly. He put his hand on the back of his neck and massaged it. Silence washed over them again for several long, deafening moments.
He watched her as tears streamed down her face, and he shook his head at himself. This isn't what he wanted, what he promised her. "You know what?" She gazed at him through her blurry eyes, wondering if he was about to tell her that this reconciliation between them was a mistake. Because now, she was starting to believe that it was.
"You're right," he finally said. He took a step up to her and wrapped his arms around her, "You're absolutely right."
"Richard…" She started, even as she buried her head in his chest.
"No, wait," he said, then backed up from her to look into her eyes, "I love you, and I promised you that we could have a family."
"But you don't want that," she argued gently, "and I don't want a baby with someone who doesn't want a baby."
He closed his eyes at the almost verbatim words she'd said at Barry and Mindy's wedding. That night, she'd ended things with him, stating that it was for the best, despite his disagreement.
"That hasn't changed," she added softly, "and if you don't want a family…"
"I do, though, Monica, I do want a kid with you." She shut her eyes as more tears streamed down her face. She somehow found that hard to believe now, and she didn't know why they were pretending things were different between them.
He cupped her face gently and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips, "I'll tell you what," he said, "let's go sit down and finish this wonderful meal you made for us, and after I marry you, we'll sit down and figure out our future together."
He put his finger over her lips before she could respond, "And I swear to you, it will include a child." He grinned at her, "Maybe even children."
She looked into his eyes as her head screamed 'yes', but her heart screamed 'no'. Standing in front of her was a hardworking, smart, loving, man that wanted to marry her and be with her for the rest of their days.
On the other side of the spectrum, she could end things now, right this second, because she knew that they did want different things. After that, she would be free to go across the hall and tell the man in apartment 19 about her thoughts, feelings, and dreams about him lately.
She shut her eyes and sniffed once, "Ok," she finally said softly, then motioned with her head towards the table, "let's finish dinner."
"I love you," he said, then moved his hands from her face, "and I'm sorry."
"I love you too," she answered softly, the inner turmoil she felt continued to make her dizzy. She was lying to him now because she didn't love him, not anymore. As he kissed her and wrapped his arms around her, even more tears fell from her eyes.
What were they doing? How could she possibly keep forging ahead with him if she knew that they didn't want the same things? They didn't back when they dated the first time, and they didn't now either.
He led her back to the table and held her hand as they sat down, then kissed the back of her hand.
As he began to eat again, her mind raced with the question she had yet figured out an answer for.
What were they doing?