Welcome to the Real World
Monica steps out of the shower and quickly wraps a towel around her body. She approaches the bathroom vanity and wipes her hand through the steam that had collected on the surface of the mirror to get a closer look at her face. She pulls and stretches at the skin around her eyes, wondering if she is starting to see wrinkles or if it is just her imagination. She takes a moment to glance down at her phone and presses a button on the side, illuminating the front screen display on her Razr. Four-thirty. She allows a sigh of relief to escape her lips as she feels justified in her decision to wash her hair last night, allowing her to sleep in a little later than if she tried to wash it this morning. She now has a half-hour to make some coffee, get dressed and start her drive into Manhattan. She nods confidently to her reflection and ties her hair back into a tight ponytail, dries herself off and replaces the towel with her robe.
She pads lightly through the house, trying to make as little noise as possible, taking care not to wake her husband up any earlier than he had to be. While Chandler didn't really understand why she had to drive into the city so early this morning when she doesn't officially start working again until tomorrow, he fully supported her decision and assured her that he would be fine taking care of the twins while she was out of the house all day. He even encouraged her to make a day of it and meet Rachel and Phoebe for brunch.
"You deserve a day off from us!"
She smirks a little at the memory of his words from the other day while she measures out enough coffee to fill her travel mug and presses the brew button. She pauses before going back upstairs to reflect on the fact that today will be her first day away from the babies since they were born nearly four months ago. Although she knew Chandler was capable of holding down the fort without her for a few hours, she was still nervous about leaving him alone and got him to reluctantly recruit Ross to visit in the afternoon. Chandler's father was also going to come by for breakfast, so she felt fairly confident that if he got overwhelmed, there would be plenty of helping hands available.
She glides up the stairs quietly and gets herself dressed in the dark from the clothes she had prepared the night before; a black cotton short sleeved shirt and a new pair of jeans. She snagged herself one of Chandler's sweatshirts from the closet and softly slipped on her tennis shoes. September weather in New York could be unpredictable. It goes from hot to cold in an instant as the days try to cling to every last drop of summer while simultaneously ushering in the cool air of autumn. Monica learned early on when she first moved into the city to always carry some extra layers this time of year as a precaution. Before she could exit the bedroom, she hears the familiar, sleepy voice of her husband.
"Mon, you leaving already?"
She turns and slowly approaches the bed. "I'm sorry sweetie, did I wake you? Go back to sleep, I'll call you later on after breakfast to see how you're doing." She sits down on the edge of the bed next to him and runs her fingers lightly through his hair causing a grin to spread across his lips.
"M'kay."
His eyes already closing as she leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. She eases herself up and quietly leaves the room, closing the door silently behind her. She walks down the hall and carefully opens the door to the twins' room to steal one last look before she has to go, and even though she is still in the house, looking at her babies sleeping, she feels as if she is already missing them. This was definitely going to be the hardest part of going back to work. Not the long hours, rude customers, aching calves, the commute or even the overall lack of sleep she was surely guaranteed; it was the thought that she might miss something important, or that they might need her and she wouldn't be there for them. She understands now why Chandler was so depressed when he went back to work just a few weeks after they moved into the house.
She slinks back downstairs, filling her cup with the now fresh brewed coffee, grabs her purse, jacket and car keys and walks out the front door. She glances over at the two cars in the driveway as she steps off the front porch. The juxtaposition of the two-seater Porsche and the family sized SUV makes their home look practically smug compared to many of the more sensible sedans parked at the other houses on their block. Most of her neighbors probably assuming that it was a car that Chandler couldn't part with, even with two newborn babies. A suburban husband and father clinging to his arrested adolescence. She smiles thinking how ironic that would be since he was the one trying to convince her to trade it in for something more family friendly. No way. She loves this car, and moreover, loves that it drives her brother insanely jealous to see her with it ever since her father gave it to her and not him. She tosses her jacket, purse, and Chandler's sweat shirt on the passenger seat as she slides into the driver's side of this powerful, sleek sportscar and begins her commute into the city.
After parking the car in a garage downtown, Monica steps out onto the street and checks her watch. Five minutes to six. She made excellent time. Now she has four hours to buy the ingredients she needs and drop them off at Javu before she has to meet Rachel and Phoebe at Central Perk for some muffins, coffee and girl talk. She thinks about how much she needs that. A conversation with other adults besides her husband. While she loves Chandler more than she believes anyone could love another person, she could use a break from his onslaught of jokes about the twins' bodily functions.
As she makes her way up through Tribeca and into Soho, she can't help but feel as if she is back home. Like someone who went away to college and was returning to the streets of their old neighborhood for the first time. As she walks, she traces the familiar path she would take early in the morning before a shift when she used to live here. All the storefronts that she was accustomed to seeing every day for so many years greeting her like an old friend. The recognizable smells and sounds of Manhattan in the early morning making her smile.
She had already planned her morning route the night before to maximize efficiency. First stop is going to be the spice store on Canal. Even though the kitchen at Javu should have most of what she is looking for in stock, she wants to grind a few of the blends herself. Just to be sure they get done correctly. After that, she plans to stop at the green grocer near Washington Square. That particular store always has the best selection of fresh herbs, and there were some spring onions, tomatoes, asparagus, potatoes and yellow squash she is going to need. Next door to that is the butcher that does not open until seven, which means, if everything goes according to plan, she will be the first customer they let inside. She only needs a few things from there; pork chops, hanger steaks, and ground lamb. After that, off to the fish market on Christopher street to pick up some salmon, grouper, bronzini, monk fish and scallops. She always makes sure to buy her seafood last before getting to the restaurant. She has nine new dishes to make and show the staff before she is ready to add them to the menu and she wants to make sure everything she uses is fresh and has been personally selected by her. She chose to do all of this on a Monday since the restaurant is only going to be open for dinner and the staff will not show up until after one in the afternoon, giving her plenty of time to meet with her friends and get back to Javu to prep her stations and to separate and prepare the food.
First thing first, she is going to step into the Italian bakery just on the corner and indulge in her favorite place to buy a sfogliatelle. If she is going to get a morning in the city, then she is going to enjoy it. While Monica loves her home in Westchester and she would never trade the life she has now for anything in the world; yet, walking around the streets of Manhattan early in the morning by herself is something that she will never be able to fully give up.
When she finally reaches Javu and uses her key to get inside, she walks straight into the back of the restaurant. It has been years since she has spent this much time away from a proper kitchen and she is excited to see it again. She places the bags of groceries on the counter and slowly walks around the room. She allows herself a few moments to become reacquainted with the space. Tomorrow will be order chiseled from the chaos of a dinner rush; loud voices, spills, furrowed brows, shouted commands, demanding customers, but right now, there is peace and tranquility in the room. This room that belongs to her.
She lets her fingers run lightly across the stainless steel of the prep station as she walks by. She approaches the flat top stove and allows one of her hands to rest on the ignitor while placing the palm of the other on the surface. The place is just as clean and beautiful as it was when she had last seen it. Although, some things did seem out of place. She takes a few minutes to fix what she sees as a few poorly set up work stations. She reorganizes the knives that were attached to the side of the steel wall with magnetic holders in a different, yet much more efficient order. She slides some of the empty steel bins around on the table, envisioning what ingredient should go in each one and what order made the most sense, ensuring speed and accuracy when adding the last touches to a finished entree. She takes time to move a few things around in the walk-in refrigerator that seems out of place, noting that some boxes of food were not the required two inches apart from each other.
When she finishes straightening up, she sighs happily and begins to remove the items she purchased this morning from her bags. She figures out that she has roughly two hours to prepare all of the food she brought in today for her demonstration later to the rest of the staff before they had to get the kitchen ready for tonight. She wants to get tomorrow's specials menu sorted out quickly so that they can be introduced seamlessly when she officially returns to work. Plus, there is always an extra rush of excitement that travels through her body when the people who work in the restaurant taste a new dish from her and express complete pleasure. She checks her watch once more before starting; she has plenty of time before she has to meet the girls.
Monica walks towards her old neighborhood and stops before she approaches the doors of Central Perk. She turns around and takes a long look at her old building. She is still bemused that Ross and Rachel didn't want to move in there after her and Chandler left. The living room in her old apartment is much larger than theirs and the spare bedroom would have been perfect for Emma when she got older. Chandler told her he thought maybe they would have felt weird living there. He wondered if, with Joey in L.A. and them in Westchester, that all that extra space would just remind them of the changes that have happened to their group. Gone were the days where six people were coming and going as they pleased in and out of apartment 20, sharing meals, watching television and indulging in stories they've all heard a dozen or so times before. Maybe, by living in that same space, it might actually be depressing without all of those things.
She smiles once more and lets out a laugh as she imagines trying to raise the twins in that apartment. They would be on top of each other all the time, getting on each other's nerves as toys, diapers, clothes and food was strewn all over the place. Items covering every surface as they kept trying to find space for the ever-growing inventory of baby paraphernalia. People bursting in and out as they try to balance naps and feedings and baths. Joey drinking all the formula. It would never have worked.
Monica pulls open the door and walks into the coffee shop. She looks over at the orange couch the gang had found themselves on almost every day for the last ten years, and of course, like always, it is unoccupied. She checks her watch; she's definitely on time, and, as per usual, her friends are late. She huffs a bit and places an order at the counter with Gunther for a blueberry muffin and a cup of cappuccino, and then steps over to the couch, making herself comfortable as she settles down. She leans back and looks around the room. More times than she can count, she would be sitting right here, waiting for one of her friends. Meeting for coffee. More times than not, curled up against Chandler, even before they got together. She smiles at the memories that are flooding through her mind and wonders how he is doing this morning. She bites her lip, but then decides to call him since it looks like she has time while she waits for Rachel and Phoebe.
"Hey sweetie. Just wanted to see how things were going. How are our little bunnies doing? No, I just got to the coffee house to meet them but they aren't here yet so I figured to check in. No. Of course I trust you. I know you can handle it. What? Why would I think you have a house full of drag queens running around….oh my god. Is our house filled with drag queens right now? Well, then why did you say that? Is you dad there? Chandler. No. Do I need to come home? Okay, okay. Just, try to keep the place clean? And when Ross gets there, tell him I say 'hi'. Okay? All right. I love you. I'll see you tonight. No, Phoebe just walked in now. Okay. Bye."
Monica shakes her head, closes her phone and places it back into her purse.
"Monica!" Phoebe bounces over towards the couch and sits down. Her baby bump already showing, even through her loose clothes. Monica looks up at her, her face still twisted slightly in a scornful expression after her conversation with her husband. "Oh, what's wrong?"
"What? Oh nothing. My house may or may not have a large number of drag queens getting adjustments on their outfits in my den. Either that, or there are still some jokes Chandler makes that I will never understand."
Phoebe chuckles and smiles. "Well, I could have told you that. Although if there are drag queens at your house, we should have met for coffee there! That sounds like much more fun than this place."
Monica looks over at her and flashes a reluctant smile. "So, how you feeling Phoebe? How's pregnancy going?"
"Oh, good. We found out what we are having and I already picked out a name, but I wanted to wait for Rachel to get here so I could tell you both."
Monica sits up and starts to squirm a bit in her seat. "C'mon Pheebs! You can't tell me something like that and expect me to wait! You have to tell me now!"
Phoebe shakes her head playfully. "Sorry. You just have to wait."
"I'll get you a cookie."
"Oh! Okay. You drive a hard bargain Mrs. Bing. We're having a girl!" Phoebe clasps her hands together and starts to bounce in her seat excitedly as a wide and genuine smile seems to have been instantly plastered onto her face.
Monica leans over to wrap a tight hug around her friend. "Oh Phoebe! That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you. And you already have a name that you both agree on?"
"Yeah. I told Mike I wanted her to have both my grandmother's names; so she will be Fiona Beatrice Hannigan."
Monica looks off to the side, a puzzled expression on her face. "Your grandmothers weren't named Fiona and Beatrice. Wait a minute! Fiona Beatrice?" Monica begins to stretch out the pronunciation of the name. "Fee-ona Bee-trice? Fee Bea? Phoebe! You named your daughter Fi Bea?"
"Shhhh!" Phoebe waves her hands in Monica's face and looks around the room. "Not so loud! Mike wouldn't let me name her Phoebe so I had to get crafty. He said naming our daughter after me might seem funny but who's laughing now and who is the fool! Ha! Ha!"
Monica glances off to the side and smiles despite herself. "What would you have done if it was a boy?"
"Well, I was going to go with either Finmore or Philip, but with two es. Phee-leep."
Monica rolls her eyes and nods in gratitude to the waiter who walked over and places her order on the table in front of her. "Well, then. I'm glad it was a girl."
Phoebe leans back into the corner of the couch. "So, Chandler is home alone with the babies? Is he ready for that?"
Monica laughs as she eats a small piece of her muffin. "I think so. His father was stopping by this morning and Ross is going over this afternoon, but I really think he would be okay on his own for a day. As long as he followed my detailed instructions. I left a very easy to read one-hundred-and-one page binder that should cover everything that could happen today."
"Even drag queens?"
"Even drag queens."
"Well good for him. I always thought he would be good at this. Remember how he was with the chick and the duck when they first got them? He was so attentive and treated them like they were his babies. I guess in a way we are kind of the same, him and me." Phoebe leans over and breaks a piece of Monica's muffin off in her hand and gobbles it down.
Monica looks up, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"
"Well, neither of us really had a family growing up. When we got older though, we had you guys. But, now he has you and the twins. I have Mike and little Fi Bea. I think for us it clicks. It's just something we both probably have been waiting for our whole lives but never really knew it."
Monica smiles and looks down at her lap. "I guess you're right. He is good at it. He doesn't always think so, but he is really good at it. I'm sure you will be too Pheebs."
"Oh please. Like that was ever in doubt." Phoebe leans back smugly and turns her head as she hears the door open to the coffee house. She smiles as she sees Rachel walk in.
Rachel rushes over to her friends and leans in to kiss them both on the cheek as she flusters a bit with her purse and coat. "Hello. Hello. I'm sorry I'm late." She rests herself down on the chair next to the couch. "So, Mon; going back to work tomorrow? Excited? Nervous?"
"A little of both actually."
Phoebe shoots up in her seat. "Ooo. You know what is a good thing to do that helps with all that anxiety? You think of your top five memories. Then, you're no longer nervous because you're thinking about those things. It works better too if you can remember stuff from your past lives." Phoebe points at Rachel. "I wouldn't go there if I were you. There were some dark days." She then turns her attention back to Monica. "Quick, Mon. What's your top five memories?"
Monica stiffens up a bit and shakes her head as if unsure exactly what to say. "I don't know, I mean, I guess the twins being born. Oh, and my wedding day. The day I got engaged. London." She ducks her head sheepishly at that.
Rachel leans in. "You need one more Mon."
"Oh! I got it! When Joey broke Chandler's Barcalounger and he had to throw it away."
Both girls look over at each other and simultaneously respond. "Really?"
"That chair was a thorn in my side for two years. I almost hired somebody to steal it."
All three women laugh for a bit and then they fall quiet. Each deep in reflective thought. Rachel looks up towards Monica. "Hey, Mon. Do you know all those things you said have something to do with Chandler? What about getting your first head chef job, or graduating?"
Monica purses her lips. "I guess those were just the first things that came to mind. Everything I always wanted when I was a little girl didn't come about until I got together with Chandler. Do not repeat this to him or he will be impossible to live with, but he kind of made all my dreams come true. Even Javu; he had to go to Tulsa and it took him all of twenty seconds to support me staying home and taking this job. I don't know if I could have done that without him being on board."
Rachel lets out a laugh and sits back again. "Oh boy. Ross would never have gone for that. We probably would have fought about it for weeks!"
Monica immediately thinks to herself, "Well, we aren't you and my brother." But she bites her tongue. "Oh, Rach! You haven't heard yet! Pheebs! Share your big news!"
Monica walks briskly down the street towards Javu with her jacket in her hands. Enjoying the feel of the afternoon sun on her face. At twelve-thirty she still has plenty of time to set up before the kitchen staff shows up for the dinner rush.
"Won't they be surprised when they walk in and I'm standing there with all that food."
Since Javu doesn't open until four, she was confident that she could run through all of her recipes and they would still have enough time to prepare the restaurant's usual menu for today. As she walks in, she sees the Maître D, Geoffrey already there, doing some pre-opening checklist work. He looks up at her, visibly surprised that she is there.
"Uh, um, hey, Monica. How are you? I thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow?"
"I wanted to just shake off some rust and I came up with a few new ideas I wanted to test out on everyone. I hope you like Bao buns! I can't wait to hear all the new jokes you've come up with over the last few months since I've been gone!" Monica beams with giddy euphoria at already falling back into her work routine.
Geoffrey nods and offers a weak smile. "Did you call Frank or Dave and tell them you were coming in today? I think they hoped to talk to you on your first day back."
"Oh really? The owners want to wish me luck? Maybe they are just dying to see some of my baby picture. Which, I have a lot of. I can't wait to show you guys!" Monica's excitement is almost palpable.
Geoffrey, still looking uneasy, starts to stammer a bit. "Oh, yeah, but also, well, I guess some things have changed a little since you left and they just wanted to prepare you."
"I know. I was here earlier. I mean, who sets up a prep table like that. Anyway, I'm going to go back there to see the guys. I'll talk to you later. I got pictures for the whole waitstaff to check out!"
Monica points both her fingers at Geoffrey and playfully shakes them up and down as she backs her way into the kitchen entrance. She turns, surprised to see so many of the members of the staff already in and prepping their stations.
"Wow, guys. What's going on? Do we open earlier on Mondays now?"
One of the workers in the kitchen looks up at her; his face expressing worry as he seems distracted. "Chef! What are you doing here?"
"I came in to show you guys some new dishes. Why is everyone here so early?"
"Well, there's been a few changes since you went out on maternity leave and…"
Before he could finish a voice bellows out loudly from the walk-in refrigerator. "Which one of you numb-nuts messed up my fridge? And what is this crap in here? Who put this fish in here?"
A dish flies out of the walk-in and crashes to the floor. Monica looks down to see the monk fish she set in a marinade earlier now smashed on the ground, liquid and broken pieces scattered across the tiles. Monica storms angrily over towards the walk-in.
"Who the hell just did that! Who is throwing my food around and making a mess in my kitchen!"
A tall, dark haired man steps out of the refrigerated room. He is wearing a chef's coat that is sloppily buttoned and his eyes seem red and puffy. He steps out and strolls past Monica. "You're kitchen? This is my kitchen. Who the hell are you lady?"
Monica angrily blows hair out of her eyes and jabs an admonishing finger in the mans face. "I'm Monica Geller. Head chef of this restaurant!"
The man starts to laugh. "Lady, are you crazy? I'm the head chef of this restaurant."
She steps back, almost in a state of shock and her eyes open wildly with rage. "What did you just say?"
He steps over to her, looks her up and down, almost leering at her form as he drinks her in. "I said. I am the head chef of this restaurant. Now get out of my kitchen!"