What's in a Name

It is a frigid Sunday morning, typical for February in New York. The grey sky outside looks like dirty wool. The air is heavy and pregnant with the promise of sleet and snow. The streets are silent and the houses along the block are still. It seems the entire neighborhood has decided to stay indoors, intent on hibernating the day away in order to avoid the inclement weather that promises to arrive soon. Monica and Chandler were no different, already resigned to a quiet day inside after breakfast. Of course, that was only after a careful consultation with the Mona Lisa schedule that hangs in the kitchen. Luckily for today, it only has one word written down in Monica's elegant handwriting: "Recipes".

The progress in the restaurant was going much better than most people would have anticipated, making it a good day for the two of them to stay home. They are actually ahead of schedule, which would be a welcome surprise, if anyone other than Monica Geller was in charge. The new floor had been put down, gorgeous dark wood laminate from front to back. The walls were painted a muted shade of yellow with one accent wall done in purple. The entire back wall was a large chalkboard, which would be used to write down special menu items and specialty cocktails. The bar had been sanded down and stained with an extra polyurethane finish. It was amazing how much you could do in a short amount of time when you have four drag queens, a piano player, and a trio of background dancers helping.

Her next step was to visit some vendors and find tables and chairs within her price range with a design that she approved. According to the paperwork from the building manager, she could have up to seventy-five people in the restaurant. They had figured that worked out to seating for sixty in the dining room after they took into account the employees and the few chairs they would have at the bar. She already planned on having a long, cushioned bench to run along the side wall. Helping to create the casual atmosphere she wanted to establish. The bar was small and would have four or five stools, and there was room in the rest of the dining area for some small tables that could be pushed together for larger parties. She can practically see every inch of how the dining room should look, everything except for the style of the decor. That still eluded her.

She was working on menu ideas all the time. Scribbling down notes in a little pad she carried around with her. Everything would be shareable. Small dishes of no more than four items, brought out one plate at a time. She wanted to mix and match flavors. Mediterranean tacos, flat bread pizzas, poutine, meat skewers, bao buns, tempura, empanadas. Focusing on unique flavor combinations and textures. Food people would order and demand their friends try.

The hardest part, was the name. She was stumped. Should it be a person's name? Monica's? Geller's? Jack's? Erica's? Something that sounds unique? Vinoco? Butterfields? Something in another language? Chez Nous? Casa de Sabor? She was stumped. Chandler had taken a few of her ideas and brought them into work, thinking maybe someone in his graphic design department could mock up a few signs and make it easier for her to decide with some visual aids.

Today though, she would put thoughts of chairs and tables and restaurant names out of her head. Instead, after some playtime with Jack and Erica, she was going to cook. Chandler, as always, would be her canary in a coal mine. Tasting food along with her all day. She already prepped most of the ingredients last night, making the actual workload today easier and more efficient.

She could already hear the three very distinct giggles coming from the other room, which signaled that playtime had already started and she smiles at the thought of joining the rest of her family in the den. She slowly strolls over and stands in the entryway, looking down and shaking her head as she watches her husband, lying on his back, placing a soft, plastic block in his mouth and then blowing it out with great force, causing it to fly into the air and land on the floor next to him. Erica and Jack would watch and laugh uncontrollably, causing Chandler to titter along with them. She wasn't sure if the twins actually understood what he was doing, and were laughing at that, or if they were just giggling because it was resulting in such an exaggerated response from their father.

Erica, having surpassed her brother in crawling, now able to use her hands and knees to get around, scurries over to the block, but instead of giving it back to her father, she sticks it in her own mouth, sucking at the air around it. Jack, still only able to slither along the ground, pulling himself around with one arm, loses interest now that Chandler wasn't immediately shooting the block out of his mouth. He drags himself a few feet away and starts to grab at other toys that are spread out on the floor. Chandler reaches across and begins to tickle Erica's belly and she falls over, curling up around his fingers. She drops the block, which he snatches back up so he can start the entire routine all over again.

Monica, smirking and tapping her foot, folds her arms. "I think I have three children in here."

Chandler looks up and smiles at his wife. "You know. I think I have been going about this all wrong. I've been using all my jokes on adults when babies should be my target audience. They think I'm hilarious!"

Monica offers him a sympathetic smile. "Honey, this morning they thought an empty cereal box was hilarious."

Chandler rubs his chin. "Well, you have to admit, that box did have some really good material."

Monica shakes her head and looks over the mess that is already being made in the room. Content to let it slide and put it out of her mind, knowing that her husband has become very good at straightening up after playtime with the babies. Suddenly, her attention is drawn down sharply at her feet as Erica had crawled over to her and is beginning to reach and grasp at her leg, snatching fistfuls of Monica's pants as she drags herself up until she finally wobbles into a standing position, now up to her feet, supporting most of her weight on Monica.

"Oh my goodness! Baby! Are you standing up?" Erica keeps pulling and stretching, as if trying to climb up Monica's leg and into her arms. "Oh sweetie, I'm so proud of you." Monica reaches down and pulls Erica up, resting her on her hip as she nuzzles her neck. "Chandler! Did you see that?"

Chandler gets up to his knees and smiles proudly as he looks on. "Wow. Looks like you got in here just in time. She must have been saving this move for you." He turns to find Jack, who found his way to one his favorite toys. He is laying on the floor on his belly, smashing buttons with his hand, causing different Sesame Street characters to pop up out of a compartment with each one he hits.

Monica looks over and exaggerates a pout. "Hey Jack, don't you want to join your sister? Don't you want to see Mommy too?"

Jack, turns at the sound of her voice but then returns his attention to the toy, almost methodically pressing buttons, faster and faster, two at a time, as if he is trying to get the entire cast of colorful characters out of their hiding spots all at once.

"I guess he prefers to slide around. I'm sure he'll get up when he's ready. He's relaxed like his old man."

Monica shoots her husband a skeptical look and then twists her face up. "Woah! You stink baby girl." She crinkles her nose as she takes one more whiff, leaning her head down a little closer to her daughter's body. "All right, let's go take care of that."

Chandler flashes a thumbs up as he lays back down and shuts his eyes. "Good job Erica. That's what we talked about, wait for mama to show up, then do that."

Monica lets a half smile curl at the edge of her lips and shakes her head. "Jack, while I'm gone, work your magic. Yours is always worse anyway"

Jack's only response to his mother is a few bubbles of spittle from his mouth and he blows air out through his lips. Chandler winces, but stays in repose and starts to imitate snoring noises.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Chandler alternates between feeding Erica and Jack. He has two spoons, and dips them into two bowls. One of them pureed green beans and the other butternut squash, He fills up one spoon and as he gets it into one of his children's mouth, he begins to fill up the other spoon. Back and forth, one at a time, making sure both babies eat everything they're given. "Hey, I think this is my strong suit."

Monica, who is pulling a few trays from the oven, keeps her eyes on the task she has presented herself. She speaks but sounds as if she is only half-listening to her husband. "What is that?"

"Feedings. Look at how they just gobble it up. I got two spoons working, I'm hitting all the food groups. I'm a pro."

Monica wipes her hands on a dish towel that was hanging over her shoulder and turns to inspect his handiwork. Jack and Erica, both with green and orange baby food running down their chins. Their hands sticky as they try to grab the bits of pureed food that fell on the tray in front of them. She screws up her face thinking of the work that will be needed to get them squeaky clean again. "Yeah, that's because this is where most of the mess comes from. You get them all sticky and I have to clean them up."

"I help with baths." Chandler puffs his chest out a bit and pretends to be insulted by his wife's insinuation.

Monica lets her eyes close for a moment and then opens them up again slowly as if she were refreshing her patience. "You hold the towel." She then starts to cut the empanadas on the tray in half. Once that is complete, she walks over and shoves a small piece in Chandler's mouth. "Well, feeding you is my strong suit."

Chandler wiggles his eyebrows and speaks around the food he has in his mouth. "That's not the only thing you're good at!"

Monica allows a smug smile to lift the corners of her mouth. "Oh, I know. And I'm not just good at it, I'm great at it."

Chandler chuckles as he swallows down her first offering. "Wow, that was really good. What was that?"

Monica, now appearing to be experiencing some mix of bashfulness and pride, holds up the other half to her mouth. "Truffle mac and cheese empanada." She takes a small bite to try it for herself and nods in agreement with Chandler. It was good. She grabs another piece from the tray. "Here. Now try this. It is a Caribbean jerk meatball empanada."

She slips it between his lips and he starts to munch on it. "Mmm! Oh wow. These are so good." He looks over at the tray she had placed on the table. Empanadas cut in half and piled high. "Uh, how much did you make?"

He returns his attention to feeding the twins who have now taken turns slapping their hands down on their highchair trays. Babbling a bit and blowing air from between their lips. Monica dismisses him with a wave of her hand. "They're small. Plus, I am bringing some of these into the city tomorrow and on my way to work I thought I would give them to Ross and Rachel. This way they could heat them up and try them. I even have a few vegetarian ones for Phoebe to taste."

She then grabs another piece from the tray and shoves it in his mouth. "Mmph. Oh wow. What is this?"

"That's Thai chicken."

Chandler closes his eyes for a moment, almost in a state of ecstasy. "Monica, these are amazing."

Monica chomps on another one herself as a boastful expression falls upon her face. "I know! Although the Caribbean Jerk one might need just a little more ginger." She looks over and tries to cover her mouth as she laughs. Shaking her head at the view she has of her family. Chandler, Jack and Erica all with food stuck to their chins. Each one has the same sleepy yet satiated look on their faces. She reaches over and grabs a container of face wipes. She pulls one out and begins to clean Jack and Erica's faces. She then takes the wipe and uses it on Chandler's chin. "Yep. Three children."

Chandler, confirming that the twins have eaten all the food he had taken out, opens his eyes wide. "I almost forgot. I have some of those mock signs made up. I thought you might like to look at them tonight after we get these two down to sleep."

Monica grabs two of the baby bottles filled with formula and hands one to her husband. Chandler offers his to Jack and Monica feeds hers to Erica. "Okay. That sounds like fun."

"Ooo, this one is actually nice, but I don't know if I like 'Geller's Place'. Makes it sound like a bar."

Chandler takes the sheet from her and pulls another one from the folder. "Okay, what about this?"

"I like this. 'Monica's'. That has a nice ring to it, right? I think it just has to be something simple and easy to remember. That would probably be best."

Chandler starts to get flustered. "Oh, yeah, simple. That makes so much sense." He quickly tries to pull a sheet from the bottom of the stack without her noticing. He shoves it behind his back and as she looks at him with a quizzical expression, he just offers back to her a nervous smile.

"Chandler. What's that?"

"What's what?"

"The piece of paper you're holding behind your back."

Chandler pulls it out and looks at it, his face clearly expressing how unimpressed he is. "Nothing, just something for work that I accidentally put in there."

Monica flashes a pair of doubting eyes down at the page and then back up to him. "Why would it be with the signs?" She holds her hand out insistently. "Let me see."

He relents and hands it over. "Okay. But really, It's nothing. Just a dumb idea I had that looks terrible. We should just forget about it."

Monica shakes her head and smirks at him. "Let me see." She flips the page over and studies it for a few moments. A soft smile stretches across her face. The background is purple, almost an exact match for the color of their old apartment. Two lines of text enclosed inside a yellow frame, just like the one they used to have on their door over the peephole. In the center, a single red casino die, stuck on its corner between four and five. She smiles and reads the name aloud. "It's a Four?"

Chandler looks down and traces a circle on the table. "I thought, since you said all the dishes you were going to serve would have four things on them…" He trails off and shakes his head. "It made me think of this. I know, it's stupid."

Monica takes his hand and squeezes it as she catches his eyes. "Oh honey, it is really cute that you thought about this. I don't know if it is a good name for a restaurant though. It might not make sense to anybody."

Chandler weakly offers her an embarrassed smile. "Oh, yeah, I know. I wasn't serious about it. Really."

Monica brings his hand up to her mouth and kisses his knuckles softly. "No, really, It is nice. It is so sweet that you remembered this."

He gets up and starts to take it from her. "I'll just toss it in the trash."

Monica tugs it away from him and scowls. "No!" She closes her eyes and her features soften as she opens them again. "No. I want it. As a keepsake. Is that okay?" Chandler nods and smiles back at her. Monica stands up from the table and stretches her arms out, still holding the page in her hands. "Actually, I think I might take a shower and wash all this food smell off me."

Chandler eyes her suggestively. "Oh? But you smell so good. I was actually thinking about eating at Monica's tonight."

She huffs out a dismissive laugh. "Calm down Romeo. Let me take a shower and after that, maybe we can both eat in together."

Chandler claps his hands and rubs them together as a salacious grin spreads across his face. "Oh goody!"

Monica steps away from the table and walks through the entryway. She calls out to him as she is about to start her ascent up the stairs. "You know. If you get a roaring fire going in the den, I might not even need to wear anything after my shower and I can just lie down on the rug, getting all warm and toasty!"

She hears a chair squeak against the floor as Chandler frantically pushes himself back from the kitchen table. "On it!"

She reaches the top of the stairs and walks into her bedroom. Her eyes never leaving the piece of paper with the sign her husband had designed. She smiles as she slides open the top drawer of her bedside table. She reaches her hand inside and pulls out a small box, taking care to open gently it and places it on the bed. She pulls out a red casino die and holds it up to the sign. A perfect match. She kisses the die and puts it back in the box. She carefully folds the paper up and lays it on top, closing the box back up and returning it to the drawer. As she walks over to the door and pulls her robe down from a hook on the back, she can't help but chuckle to herself. "Maybe it isn't that bad of a name after all."