Chapter 3: Coffee

Monica shivered and pulled the blanket up higher, around her chin. She was cold. Very cold. It was the middle of January, and the temperature was well below zero. She and Phoebe were squished together, wearing as much clothes as they had, wrapped tightly in all the blankets they had, in an attempt to keep warm.

"How have you survived seven winters like this?" Monica asked through chattering teeth.

"I don't know," Phoebe replied. "All I know is that I'm freezing. You're right, we have to get an apartment."

Monica scoffed. "That's not going to happen. It's impossible to get a job."

"Nothing is impossible."

"I've been looking for six moths and no one will hire me."

"You haven't been looking lately."

"That's because I have given up," Monica said frustrated. "I can't get a job as anything, not a waitress or anything. Not even anything you don't need skills for. I just don't think it's ever going to happen."

"It will happen," Phoebe said. "Everything happens for a reason, just give it time."

"I know," Monica said sadly. "I just hope it happens soon."

A week later Monica made her way towards a smaller restaurant on a side street. She was already depressed as she had been laughed out of two interviews that morning and was prepared for her third. She took a deep breath before entering, and brushed her hair back with her fingers. She knew it was tangled and could only hope it didn't look too bad. She really wanted to make a good impression. Monica walked into the restaurant and asked to speak to the manager. She was led to an office in the back and asked to wait. It wasn't long before a man entered the room. He was older, maybe in his late fifties. His hair was sparse, and his face wrinkled, but had a warm smile.

"Hello, my name is Tom. What can I do for you today?" He was, smiling.

"Uh," Monica stuttered. "I was wondering if you had any openings. I'm looking for a job, any job." Monica knew she sounded desperate, but at the time she didn't care.

The man smiled sadly and gave her a once over. Monica knew he could tell she lived on the streets. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Monica."

"Monica what?"

Monica hesitated. "I don't use my last name. I'm not a part of that family anymore."

"Okay, I'm not going to play games with you. You seem like a smart person. Let me ask a couple questions before I consider anything, okay?"

Monica nodded. She was taken aback. No one had ever let her stay this long. They usually just gave her a once over asked her where she lived, knowing the answer and politely asked her to leave. It must be a good sign that he was still talking, and if nothing else, it was nice to be in a warm place.

"Okay," he said lightly. "Can I start by asking where you live?"

Monica hesitated. "In New York." She tried meekly. Then at Tom's look. "I-I don't really have a place right now…yet. I don't have a place yet. But I'm going to. As soon as I save up enough money."

"How old are you?"

Monica winced, but knew she had to tell the truth. "Eighteen."

"How long have you been out there?"

"About six months."

"Are you by yourself?"

Monica shook her head. "No, I have a friend, that I met. She's been on the streets since she was twelve."

"Did you run away?"

Monica shook her head. "No, my mom, she kicked me out. But it's not what you think. I'm not a bad kid. I'm really not. I've never been in trouble. I don't smoke or drink or do drugs or anything. I even graduated high school with honors."

He cut her off. "Why did your mom make you leave?" He asked gently.

Monica looked down, ashamed. "Because I wasn't good enough for her. I tried, I really did. I did everything she wanted me to, to the best of my abilities, but it just wasn't enough."

He smiled at her, feeling his paternal instincts kick in. "Do you have any plans for the future?"

Monica nodded. "Yes, my friend and I, Phoebe, we're going to share an apartment when we have the money to, that is. We just need jobs first, and…"

"And no one will hire you?"

Monica nodded. "Exactly."

He sighed and then looked at her and smiled. "Well, I have a fair amount of staff right now…"

Monica felt her hopes drop.

"But," he continued, "I could use some help after hours, cleaning up."

"Really?" Monica exclaimed.

He nodded. "You and your friend can come in every night and clean up. You would have to clean the floor and tables, and change all the tablecloths. Also you would have to clean the bathrooms and make sure the windows and chandeliers stayed tidy."

"Oh, we can definitely do that," Monica said.

"Okay, I will pay you each fifteen dollars a night and we can talk about more if this works out."

"Thank-you so much." Monica said. "And don't worry, it will definitely work out."

"Good, so I will see you and Phoebe at ten o'clock this evening, okay?"

"Okay, and thank you again."

Monica was still smiling as she walked excitedly down the street after telling Phoebe the good news. She and Phoebe had decided to get all cleaned up, so they went and showered at the Y and put on their best clothes. You couldn't even tell they were off the street. She passed a local coffee shop and decided that in celebration she would treat herself to a specialty hot chocolate. She entered the shop and got in line. There were a couple people ahead of her, so she prepared herself for a wait. A sudden feeling of familiarity and comfort washed over her. She tried to shake off the feeling and began looking around the shop, watching all the happy people. When she turned back around, she was surprised to see a familiar face in front of her.

"Hey," she said. "It's you!"

"And it's you," he said smiling.

"So, how did your friends like their gifts?" Monica asked, not knowing what to say. She had never been all that comfortable around guys.

"I'm sorry?"

"The ones you were carrying when we, uh, 'bumped' into each other."

"Oh, right," he said laughing. "Yeah, I hope they liked the presents."

There was a pause.

"Uh, do you think I could buy you a coffee?" he asked.

Monica hesitated. She so badly wanted to say yes. She felt something for this man, but she knew she couldn't get attached. "Uh, I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked.

"No," Monica said.

"Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?"

"Well, no."

"Well then you don't have to leave right away and you're already in the coffee place, so you don't have to go anywhere."

"Okay," Monica relented, fighting off a smile.

"You don't have to sound so happy about it," he said sarcastically.

"No," Monica said. "I really do want to, it's just…I…I do want to," she finally said.

"Good," he said. "Because I do to."

Monica allowed him to pay for the drinks and followed him to a small table by the window. She was nervous. She really liked this guy, but knew nothing could happen between them. As soon as she found out where she lived he would be gone.

"So," she heard him start. "I don't know your name."

Monica smiled. "It's Monica."

"I'm Chandler." He extended his hand across the table for her to shake. She shook it and smiled.

"Do you live in the city?" Chandler asked.

Monica nodded; she did live in the city. "You?"

Chandler nodded. "I go to NYU. I live in residence. I'm in my third and final year. Did you go to school?"

Monica shook her head sadly. "I finished high school last year. I wanted to go to culinary school, but it didn't work out."

"Culinary school?"

Monica smiled. "I've always wanted to be a chef."

Chandler smiled. "It must be nice to have a dream. I never really knew what I wanted to do. I still don't."

"You have no ideas?"

"Well, I always wanted to write, but I know I'm not good enough to make a living at it."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Thanks, but I guess I'll just have to see."

Their conversation continued on for a while, just sticking to small talk. It wasn't long before their cups were empty.

Monica stood up. "Well, thank-you for the coffee. I had a good time."

Chandler smiled. "Me too. Uh, do you think I could have your number? I would love to do this again sometime."

Monica saddened at his words. She didn't even have a phone number. She shook her head lightly. "I'm sorry," she said.

Chandler's expression saddened. "Why not? Was it me? It was me wasn't it?"

Monica shook her head. "No, it wasn't you. You were great. I would love to see you again. I just…I can't…" she sighed. "I'm not what you want, believe me. It would never work out."

"Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?" Chandler asked. "I feel…" he trailed off, embarrassed.

Monica smiled sadly. "I feel something too, but there are reasons."

"Like what?"

"I can't tell you. They're personal. Just believe me when I say if things were different I would be all for it. I just can't."

Chandler nodded, accepting her answer. "Well, then I guess this is goodbye."

"Goodbye," Monica said. She hesitated before leaning in for a hug. It was just a friendly hug, but they both felt something. Monica pulled back slightly and gave him a quick kiss. She hated that she had to do this and knew she had to leave now or she would never get out of there. "Thanks again for the coffee," she said and she was gone.

Chandler sat in the coffee shop for a few more minutes, in shock. Twice now he had let her get away. Even though the kiss they shared had been short, he had felt something race through him. Something he had never felt before. He sighed sadly. He believed what she had said about personal reasons, he could see it in her eyes. She was struggling with something. He made up his mind then and there that if he ever saw her again he would make sure she knew that he didn't care what her reasons were. He just felt such a strong pull to get to know her.