The Prodigal Son

It was late afternoon and Monica was working frantically. She moved awkwardly between the stove, sink and counter as she tried to maintain a rhythm in her motions, attempting to duplicate her usual grace in the kitchen. She had planned to take time over the weekend to practice her recipes and sharpen her cooking skills that may have gotten rusty while she was on maternity leave. She saw it as a much-needed exercise after taking such a long absence from work; yet at home everything still felt slightly foreign to her. She was much more accustomed to doing this kind of food preparation in a commercial kitchen. The larger space allowed her freedom to keep more ingredients close by and she could work on multiple dishes at once. Her knives would always be in reach and she wouldn't have to stop to wash every pot or pan after each use, which would have allowed her to move on to the next entrée much quicker. Using her own stove at home meant there wasn't enough room for the pot of sauce, the wok and the cast iron skillet she needed for the dish she was currently working on. But she made due. The bronzini was searing up nicely and the vegetables were almost at a perfect level of tenderness. The sauce she made with lemon, tarragon, dill, olive oil and capers has been completed and was ready to be drizzled on the fish once it was plated.

Chandler made his way downstairs as he followed the enticing aroma of Monica's work into the kitchen. They had made an arrangement for today where he would take the bulk of the work with the twins so Monica could spend the afternoon undisturbed in the kitchen as she tried to create some new recipes and prepare for her inevitable return to work next week. It has been getting easier with the twins. The babies were eating more, now that they were over three months old, and sleeping longer at night, but they still needed to take naps that lasted an hour or two at a time throughout the day. He had them in the den when they weren't eating or sleeping so that, when she had time, Monica could join them. They both sat on their knees while they had the babies work on tummy time exercises, encouraging each of their children to lift their heads and support their upper body on their own. She took these moments to heart, knowing that all of these full days caring for her children were coming to a close as her vacation time and FMLA leave were almost over. Some part of her probably threw herself into cooking all day in order to distract herself from dwelling too much on this fact. Yet, despite her best efforts, she would still have a moment of reflection on the upcoming changes and she wondered if this must have been how Chandler felt when he had to return to work two months ago.

As Chandler entered the kitchen, he looked around and his eyes went wide with wonder and shock. On the table were over a half a dozen different types of food. A half chicken, seared and crusted with herbs, served with asparagus. Tuna tartar, arranged with roe and a seaweed salad. Baby lamb chops, dressed with mint and mashed turnips. Hanger steak, sliced on an angle with a chimichurri sauce. Bao buns stuffed with pork belly and topped with spicy fresh chilies, kimchi, drizzled with a hoisin glaze, and lastly a Japanese eggplant curry served with a small portion of sticky white rice.

He gestured wildly at the food on the table. "Mon. What is going on in here. You know Joey lives in L.A. now? Right? There is no way we can eat all of this."

Monica, without averting her attention from the dish she was currently putting together, nodded her head. "I know, I know. I only have one more dish to try after this one. We just need to take little bites to taste them. We can wrap most of what we don't eat for leftovers and lunches the next couple of days. Or we can see if John and Millie across the street want any of it." She turned briefly to face him and gave him a crooked smile. "I just really need to exercise my cooking muscles. We've had so much take-out and pasta these last few months that I feel like I forgot how to do this. Before we know it, I am going to be back at work."

Chandler raised his eyebrows in disbelief, still looking at all of the food spread out on the table. "Okay, I get it. But that," he pointed at the fish that she was currently bringing over to the table. "I am not touching. I don't eat food with a head. I think it can see me. I mean, look at his eyes. They're scornful and angry."

Monica scoffed. "I don't know how I ever married such a philistine when it came to food. This is a delicious piece of fish!" She started to wave the dish at Chandler forcing him to back away. He raised his arms as if to protect himself from the fish.

"Stop that! How do we even know he is dead? I'll bet that thing sneaks upstairs tonight to exact its revenge!" Chandler moved away from the table and crossed his index fingers over each other. "Away from me minion of the devil!"

Monica laughed and placed the plate down on the table. She wiped her hands roughly on her apron. "Well, then at least try the steak and the lamb chops okay?"

Just as Chandler began to suspiciously inspect the food available on the table the phone rang. "I'll get it. Why don't you take a break and try some of this stuff yourself?"

Monica exuded an almost arrogant level of self-confidence and smirked at her husband. "Because I already know these are all great. I made them. I need to know if a schlub like you…" Chandler turned and shot her a steely glare which cut her off. She smiled sheepishly and gestured at him apologetically. "I mean, a wonderful man like yourself with a less adventurous palate would think they tastes good too." She smiled and then pointed rigidly at the bronzini. "So be prepared, because you are eating that fish!"

Chandler shivered a bit at the thought and picked up the telephone.

"Hello. Bing's house of horrors."

Monica made a face and mocked Chandler's words with an unintelligible impression of his voice.

"Oh, hey Joe. How is it going! We're good. Babies are good. How is L.A. treating you? Really? No way. You've only been there for a month! That must be some agent you have."

Chandler covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked over at Monica.

"Mon, Joe already has a small guest part on a TV show."

Monica returned her attention to the dirty dishes in the sink and offered up a congratulatory hoot. "Woohoo! Way to go Joey!"

"What's that? It should start airing in the next few months? Wow! Congratulations. I knew you could do it. Mon? Well, she's cooking right now, you should see all of this food. Great. What? No, I can't mail you some food. Okay. You want to what? How are we going to watch it together? Are you coming out to New York? Oh. Oh. Yeah, that sounds like something we could do. That could work."

Monica was eavesdropping as she pulled out some more ingredients from the refrigerator. "What could work honey?"

Chandler looked up at her as he pulled the phone from his mouth. "Joey wants us to watch the show together."

"Uh, he knows how far away L.A. is? Right?"

"Yes. He wants to call us and have him on speaker phone while we watch it here and he watches it there. He bought a cable package that gives him east coast broadcasts. You don't mind, right?"

"Sure. As long as it isn't a night that I am working, I can take care of the kids if they give us any trouble so you and Joey can have your phone date. You know you don't have to ask for my permission, right?"

Chandler went quiet and put his finger up, gesturing for her to give him a minute as he listened to what Joey was saying. "Mon, Joey says you don't have to pretend you aren't the boss around here for him. He knows I need your permission."

Monica laughed. "Thanks Joe! I forget sometimes who I am supposed to fake it with so Chandler doesn't feel bad."

Chandler rolled his eyes and turned back to finish his conversation, but before he could speak, the doorbell rang. Chandler and Monica shared a look of bewilderment, neither able to guess who might be at their door.

"Joe. I got to go. Someone is at the door and Monica is making another weird fish thing that I swear is watching me and it creeps me out, so I am going to see who it is. I'll call you later on in the week. Okay. All right. Bye."

"Bye Joe!" Monica added in a singsong voice as Chandler hung up. Her focus was already back on preparing her last dish of the evening. Chandler looked over her shoulder and shuddered again at the image of a whole fish, head to tail, laying on a platter.

"Mon. Please, throw a towel over that thing and cover his head at least. This way I can't see the eyes."

Their unannounced guest knocked lightly on the door a few times.

"Let me get that."

Chandler scurried through the kitchen and into the living room. He approached the front door with a smile as he thought up some more jokes about fish that he could not wait to use on his wife. He turned the knob and pulled it open and who he saw on his front step caused his mouth to gape in stunned silence. There, on his porch, was a slightly stocky man, maybe a few inches shorter than him. He had brown hair with whispers of grey at the edges. His skin appeared to be very smooth and his face looked young, even though he was more than twenty-five years Chandler's senior. He had on a thin yellow button-down shirt, tan dress pants and white shoes with a black design in the shape of a treble clef along the sides.

"Dad?"

"Hi son."

Charles Bing had not been back to New York in a few years and he spoke with Chandler only a handful of times since the wedding. Only twice since the twins were born. It was more than Chandler could say for his mother, who had only sent them a gift basket filled with sensual massage oils with a card that read, "Congratulations on the baby."

Chandler had privately resigned himself to the idea that his parents were just slipping back into old habits; more involved in their own lives than his. Once they made their appearance at the wedding, they were gone again. Judging by their outfits on that day, he was certain they were there more for themselves anyway, and not for his or Monica's sake. Yet, with the babies, the move and Monica occupying his time, he didn't really think about it. He didn't feel that he needed his old family when he had this amazing new one.

"May I come in?"

Chandler suddenly shaken out of his confused stupor by his father's question, stepped aside. "Of course. Come in. We're just sitting down to eat. Are you hungry?"

"Sure, but only if you have enough. I don't want you to go out of your way."

Chandler laughed. "I'm sure we will manage."

Charles sat back and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Monica my dear, this was all so amazing. So many different flavors. I guess I got very lucky in stopping by tonight."

Monica slid her shoulders up as a bashful expression crossed over her face. "Thank you. Just some stuff I whipped up."

Chandler looked over at her and raised an eyebrow at her false modesty. She made a face at him and mouths "What?" which caused him to laugh.

Charles watched them and allowed a smile to spread across his lips. "You kids have your own little language, don't you? That's good. That means you're one of the ones that will last. Believe me. I have seen a lot of married couples when I lived in Vegas."

Chandler looked up quizzically and Monica took his hand and squeezed it as a sign of support. She turned her eyes towards Charles. "When you lived in Vegas? What do you mean?"

Charles got up to bring his dish to the sink and then turned around as he leaned on the counter. "I've been wanting to come out to New York ever since you sent me the birth announcement. By-the-by, Monica, those pictures were adorable honey."

"You could have called."

"I know, son. I know. I should have. But I wasn't sure when I could come, and I didn't want to call without having a firm moving date. I didn't want it to sound like an empty promise. Maybe that was stupid. Anywho, it wasn't much after that when Mitchel and I decided to sell the show."

Monica lifted her head up in confusion. "Mitchel?"

"Yes, uh," Charles looked at Chandler. "You remember Mr. Garibaldi?"

Chandler nodded.

"There you go, well his name is Mitchel. He used to go by Mitch, but that is much too butch of a nickname for him."

Chandler uncomfortably stretched at his collar and Monica grabbed his hand again to steady him as she laughed. "So, what does this mean? Did you move out of Nevada?"

"Yes." Charles looked down and shuffled his feet a bit, making a small circle with one foot and Monica could swear in that moment he was Chandler's exact double. "We thought we would look for work here, and we actually found a few clubs where the owners knew our show from Vegas. Mitchel is working on bookings now. He always took care of that side of the business."

Chandler stiffened up again and appeared slightly apprehensive. "So, does that mean you're moving to New York?"

"If it'll have me." Charles looked at the two of them and Monica could tell that he was asking for their permission. "New York State is a bit more progressive than Nevada anyway. And I would be able to spend time with my grandchildren, if that was okay with you two."

Chandler looked around the room sharply and then made eye contact with Monica. His expression immediately informing her that he was incapable of processing all of this information. She patted his hands underneath hers and smiled reassuringly at him. She looked him in the eye and mouthed, "It's okay." And then turned to Charles.

"We would love for them to get to know you. If you wait a bit longer, we might be able to introduce you to them when they wake up."

Charles put his hand on his chest and could only offer up his appreciation in a quiet, meek voice. "Thank you for this."

Chandler got up and started to put some more dishes in the sink. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Charles stepped back to the table to grab a few more dirty dishes, but Monica put her hands up, gesturing for him to sit down and relax.

"Actually, yes. We bought a condo just a little bit closer to the city. Maybe thirty minutes away in Yonkers."

Monica and Chandler looked at each other again as they began to wash dishes together. Chandler was still unable to find any words and he looked at Monica to take over.

"That's great Charles. It will be really nice to have you so close by. My parents are all the way on Long Island and Nora, well, you know her busy schedule. It will be good for one of their grandparents to be nearby."

Charles took a sip from his wine glass and laughed. "Well, I may not come over too often if this is how you cook. I won't be able to fit into any of my outfits!"

Monica laughed and shuffled over towards the coffee maker. She began to measure out some grounds in order to make a fresh pot.

"About that, so, do we call you Charles? Dad? Mom? Grandpa? I'm sorry, I'm still really new to this."

Charles laughed. "You can call me Charles, or hopefully, dad. When I am dressed as Helena, then it is normally appropriate to only call me by that name. Sometimes I get called Helena even when I am not dressed up, if you know what I mean." Charles laughed a bit at his own joke and Monica checked over to look at Chandler, who still appeared a bit uncomfortable. "But I am kind of like Ru Paul; he, she, either one works for me."

"Okay, well then, Dad it is." Monica turned around and offered her father-in-law a smile.

"I'd very much like that dear."

Monica finished pouring out the coffee as Chandler returned the last of the clean plates to the cupboard. Charles was sitting at the table, watches them, almost marveling in their domestic coordination.

"You two really blow me away."

Chandler turned for a moment and flashed a half smile at his father. "What do you mean."

"I can see how in sync you two are. You're constantly touching each other, working together without even speaking. The way you both let your gaze linger for a bit when the other isn't looking. Sweetheart, if I watch much more of this, I might come down with a case of diabetes due to all the sweetness."

Monica shifted her weight and bumped her shoulder into Chandler's side as he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the top of her head. At that moment, the sound of a gurgling baby carried over the monitor that was sitting on the counter. Chandler tilted his head.

"That's got to be Erica. Jack would be so much louder right now. Why don't you finish with the coffee and I will bring them down." He gave Monica one more kiss and she smiled as she returned the coffee pot to warmer.

Monica sat down next to Charles and studied him for a moment as he sipped his coffee. He looked over at her, slightly bemused, and smiled.

"Is there something you want to say dear?"

Monica shifted in her seat and took his hand in hers and smiled. Her tone was gentle and soothing.

"I love that you want to make an effort and get back into Chandler's life. It has been too long and I think it will be good for both of you. And I love that you want to get to know your grandbabies."

"Oh, well, dear…."

"I am not finished." Her words came out sharp, but she quickly regrouped and resumed using a more calming tone. "I must warn you. This is my husband and the father of my children. You and your wife really did a number on him and it took him a long time to recover from it. I know my husband, and his heart is so big and he loves with every inch of himself, so I know he will forgive you and he will fall back in love with you soon enough. That is just what he does. When he loves he puts all of himself into it. He does it with his friends, he does it with his children, he does it with me. It is an amazing gift that I cherish. If you come back here and make him go through all of that and then take off on him again and hurt him, I will hunt you down and you won't have to worry about tucking anymore when you dress up as Helena because I will rip it off from the root. Okay?"

Monica smiled sweetly as her grip tightened on Charles' hand, causing his knuckles to go white.

Taken aback by her physical strength he strained a smile and nodded. "Wow. Monica. I think I like you even more now."

Monica, not wavering from her stare, pat his hand in hers. "Just so we are clear. He mine now. I won't let him get hurt again."

Charles' features softened with admiration for the woman his son has fallen in love with. "I promise. I just want to make up for lost time. I'm really glad he found you. You are a remarkable woman."

"I know."

A/N – I know that there is an interview with one of the creators from a few years ago where I think they attempted a bit of revisionism and said Charles was actually transgender, and not a drag queen, but I think that is just a poor attempt to reboot the image of the character maybe? I don't know. Maybe they meant for him to be transgender and they weren't able to be that explicit in the late 90s/early 2000s. If he were transgender, then the show was really quite awful to him with the jokes they made at his/her expense.

For the purpose of this story, Charles is a gay man who also happens to be a drag queen and may actually be more comfortable living as Helena than as Charles. Which is pretty much how he is played and referred to on the show itself. I am sort of basing him on a couple of people, my "Uncle" Ralph the most, who was not really my uncle, but lived with my Uncle Jerry (who was really my Mother's uncle) for over 50 years. He was a fun guy who played the accordion at every holiday gathering and my New York Italian-American, Roman Catholic family took him in with open arms when his own family turned him away during a time when being gay was practically illegal.

Again, not having watched Joey, his story here may take a few turns that don't mesh well with that series. I have no idea if you can get a cable package with east coast broadcasting, but this is all fiction anyway, right?