Monica sat at the kitchen table, going through her list as Chandler loaded the dishwasher and otherwise cleaned up after dinner.
"Four passports - check! Two college decisions - check! Two flights booked for mid-September - check! Two flights booked for Thanksgiving break - check!" Monica happily went through the accomplishments. "Lengthy stay AirBnB in the heart of Paris - - working on it."
Chandler sighed from the sink. "That one is tougher than I thought," he said.
"I know! We need a place to sleep...with a commercial, to-die-for kitchen," Monica said. "How do we pick a place without ever seeing it?" She frequently lamented to Chandler.
"It's only for a couple months," he shrugged. "We need a bedroom. Maybe two. And we need a great kitchen." He kissed her forehead. "It's going to be fine. It's going to be fun!"
"Learn French via Duolingo," Monica continued. "Another work in progress."
"Chandler kicking ass at Duolingo -check!" He interjected. Monica frowned.
Monica was infuriated at how quickly Chandler was leveling up with Duolingo. Booking flights had been fairly simple, but finding a place to stay was maddening - even more so than buying a house.
"Too soon to be packed, but I have outfits tentatively planned," she said.
"You have your outfits planned?" Chandler asked, incredulously.
Monica gave him a look. "C'mon, Chandler. Does that surprise you?"
He shrugged and Monica forged ahead.
"Get kids ready for college - check….ish."
Chandler barked a laugh. "Babe, ready or not, they're going," he said. "Is anyone ever really ready?" He wiped his hands on a dish towel, then tossed it on the counter.
"Clear the air with Rachel?" he asked pointedly, crossing his arms against his chest.
No check on the last one. It had been a few weeks since they all had dinner. They weren't fighting - definitely not. But they weren't OK. They hadn't chatted on the phone. Hadn't texted each other an article or meme that made them think of each other. Hadn't had a girls' wine night with Phoebe. Hadn't had lunch together or taken the kids shopping for their dorms.
Monica and Chandler had made immense headway in the logistics.
She sighed deeply. Monica wasn't sure how she felt in regards to Rachel and their trip. She and Chandler had talked about doing this someday, long before Rachel had been offered a job at Gucci (pronounced Gucky). Rachel had gotten off the plane. They had made their lives - and everyone was happy, as far as Monica knew.
But.
"No, I haven't really talked to her since we all had dinner," she said, doodling shapes on her list.
Honestly, it was to the point that everything was irritating Monica - the kids weren't getting ready for college the way she thought they should, Chandler didn't load the dishwasher her way, her coworkers were no help - because her issue with Rachel was weighing on her.
"I just...I don't know," Monica began. Chandler nodded, leaning against the sink. She looked at her husband. "I know, I know - I should talk to her."
Chandler smirked. "I like that we've reached the point in our relationship where you can have a conversation with me, without me."
Monica rolled her eyes, but smiled.
"This trip has nothing to do with Rachel and that job," Monica began. "Why do I feel like we're doing this to her?"
Chandler frowned and sighed deeply as he sat down with her.
"We're not," he said. "I mean, we talked about this way before her Paris stuff came up." He slid his chair closer to Monica.
"To be perfectly honest, I'd have some regrets about giving up Paris for Ross if I were Rachel," he said elbowing Monica. She returned his elbow, laughing, and nodded at his comment, but she grew serious quickly.
"I've been friends with her forever," she said. "I don't want this to mess that up - something we've been looking forward to for what? 20 years? to taint our friendship. I've been friends with her almost my entire life! And we've been dreaming about going this forever."
Chandler squeezed her hand. "Babe," he said, kissing her forehead. "Just talk to her."
8:11 a.m., Monica via text:
Hey :) I work a dinner shift tomorrow - I go into the restaurant at 3, so I thought we could have a late lunch if you're free?
10 a.m., Rachel: sure
10:10 a.m., Rachel: what were you thinking?
10:15 a.m., Monica: I've been wanting to try that new Greek place near your apartment?
11:50 a.m., Rachel: K
12:01 p.m., Rachel: I have a meeting that's supposed to end by 1. Meet you after?
12:05 p.m., Monica: Can't wait! Miss you!
7:11 p.m. Rachel: see ya tomorrow
The Bing household woke up around 7, give or take an hour or two. Monica was almost always the first up, followed shortly by Chandler. They enjoyed coffee in a quiet house, discussing their upcoming day and chitchatting. These days, Jack & Erica were forced out of bed at the last possible moment. It was still a joint effort for Monica and Chandler to get the kids off to school.
"I hear we'll miss this one day," Chandler said wryly, as they walked upstairs toward the kids' rooms.
Monica smiled at her husband, but yelled toward her daughter's room, "Erica, if you don't get up now, you won't have time to shower! Jack! Out of bed now! Daddy and I are not coming with you to college, so stop hitting snooze a million times!"
The kids could be heard groaning and shuffling in their rooms, so Chandler leaned against Jack's door frame.
"What're you up to today? You're working dinner, right?"
Monica nodded, knocked hard on the wall in between Jack & Erica's rooms. "Going in at 3 or so. Having a late lunch with Rachel. Jack! Up! Now!"
"Let me know how it goes?" Chandler asked. Monica kissed his cheek. "Of course."
Monica arranged, rearranged, and rearranged her silverware another time, waiting on Rachel to arrive for lunch. She had arrived earlier, of course.
Once the kids had gone to school, and Chandler headed into his home office to work, Monica had cleaned, organized, and paced as much as she could at home. She reorganized her to-do list. She made one for Chandler and the kids, too. Then Monica added "check on the Chandler's and the kids' to-do lists" to her to-do list, realized she was climbing the walls and left the house.
She drove slowly, playing various conversations out in the car. Angry Rachel. Crying Rachel. Indifferent Rachel.
Was this all in her head? If the situation were reversed - if Monica had given up her dream job in Paris, and then Rachel went? It was hard to fathom.
Her mind flashed back years ago, when Chandler was working in Tulsa.
"It's your dream job. I can't make you give that up. Besides, I'm proud of you," he had told her.
Comparing Monica's life, or her relationship with Chandler, to Rachel's life or relationship wasn't even like comparing apples to oranges.
Rachel bristled in, harried, chatting with the host and apologizing to Monica all at once.
"Sorry, sorry, my meeting ran late," she began, opening her menu, placing her napkin in her lap, and ordering a Diet Coke, all in one motion. "How are you? What's up? It's been a while!"
Monica was baffled. "I'm good. Um, nothing really new. The usual. Work is good, Chandler is good," she paused, trying to read Rachel. "The twins are getting so excited for college, but I don't think they've made much headway "
"Are you excited for your trip? "
"I - yeah - of course!" Monica began. "But how are you? I feel like we haven't talked in forever."
"I think I'm gonna have a big salad, you?"
"Yeah, I love their chicken Caesar," Monica said, then paused. "What's new? How is everyone? Seems like I haven't heard from you in ages."
"Oh, same old same old. Work is good. Kids are good. Ross is ... Ross," she said, smiling slightly. Monica laughed at the dig at her brother, but it was short-lived.
"Rach...," she began.
"Honestly? He really pissed me off the other day," Rachel began. "We were supposed to go to this dinner-thing for his work, but Emma took forever getting ready - wonder where she gets that from, right?" She rolled her eyes. "Anyways, we weren't late but we weren't as early as Ross wanted and you know how he gets."
Monica laughed slightly, uncomfortably, and nodded.
"What's new with you?" Rachel interrupted. "How's work?"
A cheerful server approached their table. "Hi ladies! Hope you're having a wonderful day," he began. "Can I get you an appetizer or something from the bar?"
"No, I think we're ready," Rachel said. "I'm going to have a cobb salad, please. Ranch on the side."
"Uh," Monica sputtered. "Um, I'm going to have grilled chicken Caesar salad. Thanks."
The server headed back to the kitchen with their menus, leaving Monica and Rachel to smile awkwardly at each other. Rachel fiddle with her hair, then her napkin.
Monica was losing her patience. They had been friends for too long and they were too old for this bullshit.
"Are you mad at me?"
"What? No!" Rachel's voice was too high-pitched. "Why would I be mad at you?" She continued to look everywhere but at Monica.
"Rachel, c'mon," Monica began. "You won't even look at me."
Rachel looked around the restaurant, looked down at her lap, checked her phone, and fidgeted with her hair, all before looking at Monica.
When she met Monica's eyes, her own welled up. Rachel groaned, then wiped her eyes.
"I don't know why!" Rachel began. "I know it's not -"
"I'm so tired of this! We're too old for this!" Monica whisper-yelled. "Be an adult and talk to me!"
"Ugh, Monica!" Rachel said through clenched teeth. "What are you even talking about?"
"You make every milestone in my life about you!"
"Oh my god, Monica!" Rachel took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. "What?"
"When I got engaged - you had to make out with Ross. We talked about my 16th birthday then, too!" she said. "Because you made out with my cousin! When the twins were born - you got off the plane."
Rachel moved to interrupt her, but Monica waved her off.
"And that's wonderful. I love you so much, Rach, and I'm so happy you worked things out with Ross - but even then! I had two new babies, a brand new house, and you called me, regularly, to ask if you did the right thing!"
"It's not about you, though, Mon! That's what you've never understood!" Rachel looked to the ceiling. Bit her lip. Swallowed. "I am so, so happy for you! I really am! I love you so much - I have two sisters, but I still think of you as the sister I never had!"
Rachel paused, looking away and trying to steady herself.
"Everything has easy for you and Chandler -"
"Easy?! What are you -"
Monica and Rachel were still speaking in hushed tones, but they were both teary and gesturing wildly. People were trying not to stare.
"Oh, come on!" Rachel said. "Falling in love with your best friend is like Romantic Comedy 101!"
"In movies! You think we've had 20-something years of sunshine and puppies?" Monica was pissed now, but Rachel didn't meet her eyes.
"You're right," Monica said sarcastically. "Infertility was easy. Adoption was easy. Working different schedules is easy. All the issues with our parents, my weight, all the normal, everyday bullshit and everything else - all that was a walk in the park."
The other tables were now openly watching the women - Monica and Rachel were both whispering, albeit harshly, and they both were frantically wiping away angry tears.
"Your milestones are reminders are of - I don't know! - what could have been? What I missed?" She met Monica's eyes, finally. "Don't you think I wonder every day what it would have been like if I had gone to Paris? Every goddamned day?"
"I love your stupid brother, I really do," Rachel whispered then sniffled quietly. "But of course, I think about what if...?"
Monica looked at her. Rachel shrugged.
"And I know, rationally, that things haven't always been sunshine and puppies for you and Chandler," Rachel said, dabbing her eyes and choking back tears. "But you always make it look like it. From the outside, it looks fucking perfect. It looks like you always have each others' backs. I mean, you have a literal white picket fence! No lesbian ex-wives or infidelity or, or - I don't know, years of jealousy or anything."
Rachel looked skyward and tried to wipe her eyes without smearing her makeup too badly.
"So there. There you have it. That's the big issue," Rachel said. "That's why I'm...weird? Sad? Angry? I don't even know? about Paris." Rachel shrugged, frowning, and clearly fighting further tears and trying to regulate herself. "And that's why I haven't been around. Because I know I'm the one in the wrong."
"Rach..."
"I know it's stupid. I know it's my issue," Rachel began. "But c'mon? If the situation were reversed...?"
Monica reached across the table, grabbing Rachel's hand. "I know, honey. I know. But I don't want to just...stop talking to you? Because you feel weird. We have been friends since we were kids - and now our kids are grown! And you're still," Monica grew teary. "And you're still..."
Of course, the server chose this moment to arrive with their food. Seeing their tears from afar, she was immediately awkward.
"Here's your Cesar salad, ma'am," she placed it in front of Monica. "Boy howdy, does it look tasty!"
Monica and Rachel, both teary, looked at the poor girl, who then placed Rachel's salad in front of her. She paused, taking a step back, and looked embarrassed.
"What a weird time to say, "Boy howdy," for the first time," the young server chuckled, and turned a deeper shade of red. "Well. I hope you enjoy it." She then turned and rushed back to the kitchen.
Monica and Rachel met eyes, smirked at each other, and began laughing.
"Are we 14? Or 50?" Monica wiped her eyes as she rolled them.
"Oh God, Monica, I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I really am. I know it's dumb, and I know it doesn't really make sense. And I am happy for you! So, so, so happy for you! I've told Ross we'll have to come visit."
"I get it Rach," she said. "I do. But you can't...just stop talking to me after 40 years of friendship. That's really shitty! I love you!"
Rachel nodded, swallowing tears.
"I know! I love you, too!" Rachel wiped her eyes, again, and looked around the restaurant. Other diners quickly looked away, having been watching the teary, middle-aged women whisper-argue for the past few minutes.
"OK. Oh, God," Rachel began. "Now that we've cleared the air, and caused a scene - tell me how the trip-planning is going!"
Monica tried to sneak into her house after work. It was late - nearly 11 - when she got home. Chandler had left the porch light on for her and light was peaking out from both of the kids' rooms. Her bedside light was on, but Chandler was dozing half sitting up with a book on his chest.
Monica quietly shut her bedroom door, but Chandler's eyes popped open as soon as it clicked. He blinked at her and mumbled a "hey."
"Go back to sleep, honey," she said. Instead, Chandler put his book on the nightstand, sat up, and shook his head.
"No, no. How was ...y'know," he said drowsily. "Whatever. With Rachel? How was that?"
Monica kissed her forehead. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Get some sleep."
Chandler shook his emphatically, further sitting up. "I'm up. I'm up. Tell me." He focused his eyes on here. "I'm all ears."
Monica began taking jewelry off at her vanity, meeting Chandler's eyes in the mirror.
"It went...about how I thought it would," she began. "We cried. We argued. But we're ok now," she said, turning around to face him.
"She's just kind of struggling with what might have been, y'know?"
Chandler nodded. Monica began changing into pajamas. "Are you two...OK?"
"Yeah, I think we're good now," she said as she climbed into bed beside her husband. "She's not jealous, exactly, and she said she'd been avoiding me because she knows it's her issue, but she's struggling with it, y'know? But she did say she wants to come visit. She said she knows, rationally, things aren't always perfect for us, but from the outside..."
Monica noticed Chandler had drifted off while nodding along to her story. She laughed as she patted the center of his chest, turned off her light, and nudged him to his side of the bed.
"I'll give you the play-by-play in the morning," she said. Chandler grunted in acknowledgement but quickly began snoring.
