It could have been so perfect, Monica thought. A party on the roof on New Year's Eve, with everyone who lived in the building and wanted to take part, plus their friends, although the weather report had predicted heavy rain squalls later, and it was rather cold even with coats. There was music, dancing, food and a bar for drinks in a stall where Phoebe also presided over a giant tea urn and offered to read the drinkers' fortunes from the tea leaves afterwards. In the stall next to that there was a small portable TV on which they could watch the ball drop at midnight sitting on a table next to a big top hat out of which anybody who wanted to kiss someone at midnight had already drawn the name of a willing partner on a piece of paper - pink for women, blue for guys, grey for 'Don't-Matters'. Actually Joey had volunteered to supervise the drawing, but had been voted out again after someone had caught him stashing several pink paper slips up his sleeve.
Not hers though, for the simple reason that she had not put her name down in the first place. True, she had no one to kiss at midnight, because she had no boyfriend right now. Because she was single. And also true, yes, she would have liked to kiss someone at midnight. Not just because it was the thing to do, or because it meant good luck, or because everybody did it, but because it was … nice. And because it felt right.
But she would rather start the New Year unkissed than risk drawing someone's name that she couldn't kiss. Or even worse, who wouldn't want to kiss her. Or worst of all having to publicly admit that she had to resort to drawing a name out of a hat to get someone to kiss her.
If only she and Richard were still together. Everything would be so easy then. She could watch Ross and Rachel without getting depressed as they danced and made out in front of everybody, smiling instead as they laughed and stared at each other adoringly, and be happy for them. With them. Instead of getting more miserable and maudlin by each minute the New Year crept closer and closer. Only twenty minutes more.
It was all so wrong. Why was she still so hung up about having a boyfriend? Why couldn't she be happy as a single woman, a strong independent woman with a good life, a great apartment, a group of true friends, and a job – yes, it wasn't a great job, in fact, as a job it was quite lousy, but it was a job and as such way better than nothing. And maybe next year she would get a better job or even THE job, the one she had always wanted and hoped for, the one that would make her feel important, valued, respected. A job that would outweigh her need for a boyfriend, or maybe even that desperate longing for a family and children. The thing that Richard couldn't give her, which was why he wasn't here as her boyfriend and she was going crazy with frustration even though she had been over him for so long already. She was quite sure that she didn't want him back, that she had really moved on. But it sure would have been nice to have him back for this one night. Or just an hour. Or a minute, just long enough for one kiss at midnight, to see the New Year in on. But here she was, in the middle of a party on the roof, clutching a drink, trying to have a good time with her friends while midnight was mercilessly approaching.
Maybe she should just try to imagine a boyfriend kissing her at midnight. Close her eyes when the counting started and pretend someone was there, looking at her, holding her and kissing her on the stroke of midnight. And when it was over, join in the cheering and watch the fireworks, finish her drink and, after a decent interval, leave as unobtrusively as possible and return to her apartment to curl up on the couch and watch TV or a movie.
Sounded like a good plan. Well, like a plan anyway. But she would definitely need to freshen up her drink for that, or go for something even stiffer than that scotch with a twist she had stuck to so far.
So she walked over to the bar, weaving and circling around groups of guests chatting and laughing, until she came to the queue for drinks. It was then that she saw Chandler standing in front of Phoebe's tea urn trying to finish a cup of tea that obviously was still too hot.
"Hey, Monica! Do you want your tea leaves read too?"
"Um, thanks Phoebe, but – no thanks."
"Oh come on! It'll be fun! Don't you want to know what the next year will bring you?"
"Not really, no. I'm fine."
Phoebe shot her a sharp glance. "Why, are you afraid?"
"What? No! Why should I be afraid? I just don't want to know!"
"Alright, alright, suit yourself. Chandler, are you done yet?"
"Well, I don't know about me, but my tonsils definitely are." He grimaced, working his mouth. "Aaand my tongue ... ugh. Here you are, Pheebs."
In spite of herself Monica was craning her head to get a look at Chandler's tea leaves as Phoebe pondered them.
"Hmmmm … I'm not sure – is that a four or more like an airplane?"
"Looks like a duck to me." Monica said matter-of-factly and Chandler stared.
"A duck? Where do you see a duck?"
"Here. There's the neck, and the tail and there are the feet –"
"But why-a-duck? Why-a-not-a-chicken?" When they stared at him uncomprehendingly, he threw up his hands. "What? Why-a-duck? The Marx Brothers? That's a classic!"
Phoebe just frowned and then shrugged dismissively. "Well, a four would mean being one of four people in –"
"A foursome?"
"A group of four with shifting relations." Phoebe sighed. "Not good really."
Chandler rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"
"And what if it's really a duck?"
Phoebe looked blank. "It can't be a duck. There's no meaning for a duck. If it was a goose –"
"Yes? What then?"
"A goose doesn't mean anything either."
"Ah." Monica and Chandler exchanged an eye-roll and an understanding grin. They had long since become used to Phoebe's antics.
"And what does an airplane mean?" Monica asked patiently. Phoebe pursed her lips and took out her book again.
"Airplane, airplane – ah yes. Obviously it means traveling, but it could also mean highflying emotions. Oooh, maybe you'll fall in love!"
"Aw, thanks Phoebe. I'll bear that in mind." As Chandler grimaced, Monica suddenly realized that he too had barely gotten over his last relationship himself. Yes, it had been with Janice, which was why they all had been quite unable to take it seriously, but for all that Chandler had been very downcast and depressed since, and for much longer than she had thought possible too. But given that she had witnessed every time he had thrown himself into the relationship and desperately tried to keep it going, that really shouldn't have surprised her.
"Didn't you put down your name?" Phoebe asked brightly, motioning towards the hat.
"No! I told you …"
"I know you didn't, I meant Chandler! Well, did you?"
Chandler bit his lip, avoiding her gaze. "I, um, I couldn't do it."
"Why not?"
"Well, it was too risky. What if I had gotten Joey? Or Gunther?"
"You wouldn't have gotten a guy. Unless you wrote your name on a pink slip?"
"What? Wasn't that what you have to do when you want a girl to kiss-?" Monica saw through the joke immediately, but Phoebe fell for it and glared at him as soon as she realized it.
"Chandler – Mmm-something – Bing!" While they were bickering, Monica considered Chandler for a moment, her drink forgotten. Chandler. What if she kissed him? He was her friend, of all the guys he was the one who seemed to understand her most, he was still recovering from a break-up same as her, and he was still being teased for getting kissed by Joey on that New Year's Eve before last. When she had rejected him. So it seemed only fair.
Plus it would ensure that she wouldn't have to kiss Gunther either. Or nobody at all.
Her decision made, she waited until Phoebe handed out another teacup and tried to follow Chandler as unobtrusively as possible as he turned away from the bar and walked into the direction of the stairs. When he had reached the door, she called out after him.
"Chandler – Chandler, wait!"
He turned around looking surprised and she realized that she had sounded almost urgent, and scolded herself for feeling so nervous suddenly. It wasn't like this was a big deal. Just a stupid little thing, a service between two friends, a friendly gesture for good luck. Still she tried to keep her voice down when she faced him, meeting his eyes.
"Here's an idea - what if we – I mean, maybe we could kiss at midnight?"
For a second he seemed to freeze in place, the surprise on his face almost comical, and Monica suddenly was dismayed. Maybe it was a big deal after all. Or maybe she had just made a total fool of herself.
Then he visibly pulled himself together.
"We? Us? Oh … um ..." He was staring at her earnestly now and Monica found herself clenching her hands in spite of herself.
"See, it's just - I just can't grow a mustache. Not that fast anyway."
"Wh- WHAT?" She could only gape at him.
"A mustache. And obviously I can't kiss you without one –" he broke off when he saw the sudden fury on her face and even took a step backwards. For a long moment the silence stretched between them, while she breathed deeply, fighting for control.
"Well, maybe that's all for the best, Mr. Bing-A-Ling. I haven't had time to practice my Janice laugh anyway." She took grim satisfaction in seeing that retort hit home just before she turned her back on him and headed for the stairway, seething with anger, at him as much as at herself.
"Wait! Monica, please, please, wait!" That was Chandler calling out after her. While a part of her recognized the genuine anxiety in his voice, another screamed at her to keep going, to ignore him. He'd had his chance. If he absolutely had to turn everything into a joke, and such poor jokes at that, he needed to bear the consequences too. It was only fair.
Then she heard him rushing after her. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"
That made her stop, although she wished she was made of the stuff that made her capable of ignoring him and continue on her way. The same stuff that would free her of any stupid, sentimental desire to get kissed at midnight, to have a boyfriend, a husband, a family, kids, that would make her the strong independent woman she so desperately needed to be. But she didn't have that stuff in her, and so she stopped, although she didn't turn around and just waited for Chandler to stand in front of her.
"I'm sorry" he repeated. "I'm a total idiot. I thought – well, I was wrong."
While she stared at him coldly she felt the impulse tugging at her to say something, that she understood and accepted his apology, but stubbornly resisted. No, not so fast. All her life she had given in much too fast, never insisting on her right, her dignity. She was well aware that she was overreacting, but also that she needed it, needed this small victory quite badly.
Except that Chandler was now wringing his hands and starting to plead. "Please, I don't know why I said that! It just – got away from me."
She sighed, suddenly feeling weary. And quite bitter. "I know. It's okay."
"What? No, it isn't!"
"Yes, it is. Obviously I'm not over Richard. It doesn't make sense for me to kiss anyone at midnight. I should just go and watch TV. And eat cookies." She turned away from him again and continued down the stairs.
"What? That's – that is sooo not – wait, please! That's so not true!" He scrambled down past her and then barred her way, steadying himself on the bannister.
"It's been what, half a year? Of course you're over Richard."
"Oh? As you are over Janice?"
"Yes! That is – yes, I am."
"Really? If she was here right now, wouldn't you want to kiss her?" She stood with her feet slightly apart and her hands on her hips, and, facing him squarely and opening her mouth very wide, she started to intone Janice's favorite phrase: "'OH' – 'MYYY' – 'GOAH –'"
Grimacing Chandler clamped his hands over his ears. "Okay! Stop it! Okay, okay, you win!"
"Win what?"
"Yes, I would. Yes, if she was here, I would kiss her. Not because I'm not over her, but – because it would be nice. Because it means good luck. But –"
She looked at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow. "But …?"
"But – I would really much rather kiss you."
She felt her throat constricting and desperately tried to swallow, avoiding his eyes. The pause lengthened.
"Why?" Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears, and much smaller than she would have liked. But Chandler didn't seem to notice.
"Because!" He spread his arms wide, nearly losing his balance. "Because you're my friend. Because you're a wonderful woman and I'm so happy to be your friend. Because of everyone here you most of all deserve to be kissed at midnight and have all your wishes come true."
"Really?"
"Yes!" He took a step closer to her. "Please Monica." He looked up the stairwell where they could dimly hear the countdown start over the cheering and the laughter. "Oh god, it's almost midnight! So – please? Remember, if you don't kiss me, I won't get kissed either. I doubt Joey could spare the time right now."
That made her giggle, and when she saw the utter relief on his face it made her laugh even harder. Chandler grinned and held out a hand to help her up the stairs again. She was still bursting into small fits of laughter when they arrived at the door to the roof and she followed him around the corner to the nearest balustrade where only a few people were standing. Almost everybody else seemed to be crowding around the bar and the stand with the TV, waiting for the ball to drop and counting along.
"Twenty-Two! Twenty-One! Twenty!"
Taking a deep breath she turned around to look at him searchingly and grabbed for his hands at the same time. She felt his fingers close around hers and then squeeze them slightly while he stepped a little closer. His face was very still now and she suddenly realized that he was nervous. Even more nervous than she was.
"Sixteen! Fifteen! Fourteen!"
Did she really want to do this? Was this really a good idea? He was her friend, yes, but she had never before considered to kiss him, not even when he had begged her – begged everyone there in fact – to kiss him at midnight two years ago and she somehow hadn't been able to bring herself to do it.
"Eleven! TEN! NINE!"
Or had she? But no, Joey had stepped in at the last moment, and saved her from – what really? The embarrassment? What embarrassment? He was her friend, it would have been just a favor, a friendly service –
"SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"
Now he brought his face closer until the tip of his nose almost touched hers and she felt his breath on her cheek. It was then that she sensed him falter, almost drawing back. Without thinking she brought her hands up and grabbed his grey scarf to draw him down to her and cradle his head in her hands, absurdly touched when he closed his eyes.
She so owed him this kiss. And this time she really wanted to do it too.
"TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
And their lips touched and fused at the exact moment of midnight, pressing together almost violently. Dimly she felt his hands on her back, his arms holding her steady, and then time seemed to freeze around them, creating a bubble around them where nothing existed but the two of them kissing, for a long, long moment when everything around them seemed to hold its breath, came to a halt and stood absolutely still –
She felt his lips soften under hers, his mouth opening slightly and causing her to respond in kind, and before she knew it the kiss was deepening, going beyond a gentle caress and becoming almost passionate. And it felt so good. He was wisely withholding his tongue, but the way his lower lip nibbled at hers, playfully pushing it against his teeth and grazing across it was – exciting at the very least. More than that, it was amazing and suddenly she couldn't get enough of it. It had been so long already since her last proper kiss and she marveled at the way her whole body suddenly seemed to revel in the sensation, reaching out for it and drinking it in, opening up to it, to him … When she stuck out her tongue a bit, he seemed to start a little, shuddering slightly under her hands, then he suddenly pulled her closer, pressing against her and touching the tip of her tongue with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her, molding her body against his.
She never knew afterwards what it was that made them stop and draw apart eventually. Maybe someone shouting 'Happy New Year' somewhere too close to them, or fireworks going off near them, or just the need to breathe asserting itself again. But there they were, still close together with their faces almost touching, staring at each other and breathing heavily. Her heart was hammering crazily in her ears and her knees felt so weak she thought she would fall down if she didn't hold on to his shoulders. Then she felt him start to say something, his lips trying to shape a word and without thinking about it she kissed him again, hungrily latching on. She felt him teetering in surprise for a second, but he caught himself almost immediately and kissed her back.
It was the rain that made them stop next time, sudden gusts of wind that brought fat cold drops of rain with it and had everyone on the roof shrieking and running for cover. Still numb from the kissing she stared as the wind tore long pieces of festive garlands on the stalls away and hats and streamers went flying. Chandler quickly shrugged out of his coat and held it above both of their heads for makeshift cover and she snuggled against him gratefully, wrapping her arms around his waist. As they joined the masses crowding at the head of the stairs and rushing down, she looked back to where some people, Joey and Phoebe among them, were packing up glasses and bottles while trying to keep out of the rain. She knew she should join them and help, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Then Chandler was pulling her along and they hurried downstairs still keeping close together with their arms around each other and his coat still over their heads. On the fifth floor they broke away from the others and stopped for a bit at the corner while Chandler tucked his coat under one arm. When he looked at her and opened his mouth to say something, she swiftly put a finger across his lips shushing him and he subsided again.
Just as she took hold of his scarf to kiss him once more, someone bumped into her on their way into the hallway and when she turned around she saw that it was Ross who was holding Rachel close as they staggered towards the door of #20, laughing breathlessly and kissing wildly. After a lot of fumbling they finally managed to open the door and stumble inside, and as soon as the door closed behind them she heard the key being turned.
And the chain put on too.
"Did – did you see that?!" Her mouth still open in shock she turned on Chandler who just shook his head. She was locked out, locked out of her own apartment by her drunk roommate and her brother who didn't even live there. Of all the –
"Hey, hey, shhh, Monica, shhh. Calm down!" Chandler had caught up with her just as she had reached the door to hammer and kick on it in her fury, and now drew her back.
"But they locked me out! That's my apartment!"
"I know." Chandler gently but insistently turned her around and steered her towards #19. "Let them."
"But it's not fair –"
"I've got something much better for you." And with that he opened his door, letting her enter first. At first she didn't see anything as the apartment was quite dark, then some fireworks exploding somewhere near the windows illuminated the living-room and the reflections of hundreds of lights and colors lit up in the tinfoil sheets and ornamented lampions of the space camp decoration the guys had created for the little Brown Bird girl with the broken leg.
"Oh my god! I thought you had taken that down already!"
Chandler took her coat from her and put it across the foosball table. "Yeah, but Joey just couldn't bear to let it go, so we decided to keep it a bit longer."
"It's so beautiful …!"
"It is, isn't it? Until you try to sit on the chair that is."
"Just like mine then. I'm still finding fir needles there from Phoebe's dead Christmas trees."
He chuckled again, his face seeming to light up with that wide sweet smile of his, and her breath caught. Then as she continued to stare at him, the smile slowly faded again, and his expression became more serious.
"Happy New Year, Monica" he said softly and she felt a lump rising in her throat that refused to go down again. Suddenly her heart was racing again.
"Happy New Year, Chandler …" she replied shakily and then reached out for him urgently, blindly, hungrily, beset by a sudden desire that couldn't, wouldn't be suppressed. He caught her in his arms and they kissed again, deeply and passionately, until both their breaths gave out and they had to come up for air, only to fall back into their kiss immediately. At some point she felt his hands start to roam over her back and slide under her blouse and chemise while she in turn bunched up his sweater vest and groped her way under his shirt. When they at last stumbled upon the sofa bed, Chandler tore the dark coverlet away and they sank on it, their bodies pressing against each other, arms and legs entwining while they kept kissing.
"Um … mmmhhmmm … ah, oh, what about … what about Joey …?"
"Shsh. It's alright. Mmh. Don't worry. It doesn't matter. It's alright. Everything's alright." He was kissing his way down from her breasts to her navel and beyond, gently tugging her pants down and away while he was at it. "It's New Year's night. This is ours. Nobody can take it away from us."
He continued to kiss and caress her until she was shudderingly ready, almost howling with desire, then he came up again, carefully settling on her and pushing his hands under her shoulders to support her before he lowered his head to kiss her again. She sighed contentedly into their kiss as she wrapped her legs around him and held him close, moaning when she felt him pushing inside her and filling her up, their bodies locking and melting together as if two pieces of a puzzle were joined at last. He was right. This was their time, the magical time between midnight and sunrise, the time where everything went and nothing mattered, the time of lovers and their dreams, the lost hours of the time that was not real and yet more real than any other.
.
.
"Hey! Happy New Year!"
"Hi Phoebe –" Monica weakly waved to her friend from the couch before subsiding into another fit of coughing. Phoebe looked alarmed.
"Oh my god, you sound dreadful. Still sick, huh?"
Monica rolled her eyes. "You think?"
"Where are all the others?"
"Ross and Rachel left to visit my parents. I don't know about Chandler and Joey."
Phoebe put her bag on the kitchen table. "I met Joey on the way up. He said Chandler's got a cold."
"What? But he was fine yesterday – I mean, wasn't he?"
Phoebe shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't see him at the party. You know what? I'll make you a nice cup of tea. That will make you feel so much better!"
"Aw, thanks Phoebe. Will you read the leaves afterwards?"
Phoebe stared at her. "What?"
"The tea leaves. Didn't you do that yesterday?"
"Yesterday? Where?"
"At the party. On the roof?"
Phoebe looked blank. "There was a party on the roof? Well, nobody told me!"
Monica opened her mouth to protest and slowly shut it again as the truth dawned on her. "Oh …"
"You must have dreamed that." Phoebe grinned knowingly. "No, I was at Ross' party. Don't tell him, but it was so boring! So, a New Year's party on the roof? Sounds like fun. What else happened there?"
Monica leaned back wearily. "I don't remember much. You were reading tea leaves … and people could put their name down if they wanted to get kissed at midnight –"
"Aw, Monica." Phoebe came over and sat on the edge of the couch, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry that you had to spend New Year's Eve here all alone."
"It's okay. I wanted to be alone. I slept most of the time anyway."
Phoebe sighed. "So what else did you do? Watch TV?"
"And some movies." Monica indicated a small stack of videos sitting on the table among the clutter of cough drops, used tea cups, heaps of tissues, soup plates, books and magazines.
"When Harry met Sally? Ooh, I like that. Although, I like Jess and Marie better than Harry and Sally."
"Yeah, me too." Monica grinned. "'Please tell me I'll never have to be out there again!' I just love that line!"
"Yeah, me too." When the water in the kettle came to the boil, Phoebe got up, patting Monica again as she went. "And I'll bet you anything you'll find your Jess too one day." And then she brightened. "Oh, maybe if I read your tea leaves afterwards, I'll see him there already?!"
