Chapter 5

Dragging her into a spare bedroom, Rachel Green-Farber sat her former high school best friend down on the bed. "So, tell me! How have you been since…you know?"

"It was a divorce. You can say it," Monica answered, with bitterness in her tone that she hadn't intended. At Rachel's slightly hurt expression, she breathed, "Sorry. I guess it still stings a little."

"Understandable. I just wish you'd called me. I was really worried about you," Rachel replied, sitting next to Monica.

That threw Monica off a little bit. Once word had spread about the split, everybody had ousted her from the socialite circle without another thought. Yes, she and Rachel had their ties to high school, and out of the group she was the only one Monica would have called a real friend. Yet, when Rachel didn't call, it was concluded that she'd joined the rest of their posse in pretending Monica never existed in the first place. "You didn't call me either."

"I tried. I even called your parents. Boy, were they surprised to hear from me," Rachel laughed. "But even they didn't know where you were hiding. I couldn't reach you on your cell either."

Monica wasn't sure what to say to that. All she knew was that she always had thought of Rachel as different from the others. She played the part of an heartless self-absorbed snob perfectly, but Monica could tell that underneath the exterior was a kind, caring individual who was yearning for an alternate, independent lifestyle. Rachel was why Monica had been accepted into the social life of the wealthy in the first place – because she had begged tem to be nice to her old friend from high school. Now, hearing that made Monica realize that all her assumptions about Rachel's real personality had been right. And there was nothing she loved more than being right.

"Wow…that's so sweet…I didn't think anyone would try to contact me. Aw, that's so sweet!" Monica cried, wrapping her friend in a hug.

Returning it, Rachel broke apart. "So, tell me! What have you been doing?"

"Well…don't laugh okay?" Monica pleaded. When Rachel nodded, she answered, "I moved back into my old apartment. It's still rent controlled, but I don't want to be totally dependent on the money from the divorce. So…I'm a waitress. I mean, I wanna be a chef eventually, but this will have to do for now."

Rachel didn't say anything for a moment, just put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Aw, sweetie, everything will be okay. Being a waitress isn't that bad, is it? All you have to do is get people their order."

"Yeah…" Monica replied, slightly unsettled by the abrupt feeling of déjà vu. "Enough about me. How's Barry? Is he still your lobster?"

"My what? What does that mean?" Rachel asked, amused.

Monica paused, not even sure herself where that had come from. "Never mind, I just heard it somewhere…I think. But really, how are you two?"

"Eh, well, you know how it is," Rachel waved a hand dismissively. "We're coming up on our ten year anniversary."

"Congratulations!" Monica exclaimed.

Sighing, Rachel replied, "Thanks, I guess. In all honesty, though, it's not much to celebrate."

"Rachel, is everything okay with you and him?" Monica asked, very concerned about Rachel's nonchalant attitude towards her marriage.

Rachel shrugged, twirling a piece of her curly hair. "Yeah, I mean, it's how it's always been, but I think that's part of the problem. Don't get me wrong, the sex is great…"

"Good, 'cause I was worried," Monica deadpanned.

Rachel continued, "But…I always thought we'd be better as a couple over time. I mean, I'm not stupid – I know he cheats on me."

"Why do you put up with it? Leave him. I left Pete, and he never even cheated on me," Monica suggested.

"You make it sound so simple," Rachel reminded her. "I'm not strong like you, Monica. If I leave Barry, that's it. To my father, Barry is the perfect guy – rich, a steady job, and a good name. Mon…I could be cut off! I'd be the waitress! And I don't have the rent controlled apartment to fall back on! And not to mention the humiliation of being rejected by people I've known my whole life."

Hugging her again, Monica comforted, "I'm so sorry. But, if you do decide to leave him, you can stay at my place. Rent free, until you get on your feet."

"Oh my God, that's so nice of you. I don't think I know anyone else who would do that for me," Rachel cried, near tears. "It's funny…wait, if I tell you this, will you totally swear not to tell anyone?"

Monica held up a hand, as if swearing on the Bible. "I swear."

"On my wedding day," Rachel began. "I almost left Barry. A few hours before the ceremony, I crawled out the bathroom window, with every intent of never going back. For some reason, your name and address popped in my head. I took a cab to your apartment, but you weren't there. One of your neighbors was there, some guy with a hammer, but he had no idea where you might be."

"Oh my God," Monica breathed.

Wiping away some tears, Rachel went on, "So I…I went back. I didn't know where to go, I started doubting myself...I went back and no one even noticed I was gone."

"Aw, come here," Monica wrapped Rachel in a hug, near tears herself. "Everything will be okay."

Walking down the street, Chandler couldn't help but feel a little pleased with himself. Hopefully, that kiss had put Janice in a good mood, and the rest of the day would be more tolerable.

It was only a short trip to the deli, which doubled as an all-purpose market. Finding the eggs and milk was a snap, but it took him a minute to locate the cinnamon, mostly because he had no clue what the color it was. Carrying the ingredients in his arms, he dumped them on the single check out counter.

"Hey, how you doin'?"

Chandler glanced up, thinking the Italian cashier was talking to him. However, a quick glance behind him proved that he was addressing the very hot women who had just come in. She gave the cashier a seductive smile before going to browse the isles.

Whistling, Chandler turned to face the cashier. His name tag read "Joey." "So, you get a lot customers like that in here?"

"Oh yeah," Joey answered, wearing a grin. "Sometimes it's all I can do to stop myself from sticking my head in the meat freezers, if you know what I mean."

"Really? Man, what am I doing working with numbers?" Chandler joked, instantly liking the man.

Laughing, Joey looked down at the groceries. "Okay, what do we have here...look, the cash register's broken. I bet a math person like yourself could add this up in two seconds."

"I take it you're not a 'math person'," Chandler retorted, using air quotes.

Joey wrinkled his brow. "Okay, I don't know what this," as he did the air quotes, "means. And no, I've never really been good with math. Or reading, for that matter, unless you count comic books and cereal boxes."

"Okay, fine, I'll add it up." While he did so, Chandler kept glancing up at Joey, getting a weird feeling. "Hey, um, have we…met before? At a party or something?"

"No, but you know what it might be? I used to play a big part on Days of Our Lives," Joey bragged.

Chandler raised an eyebrow. "Right, because I look like someone who lives for soap operas." After a short silence, he asked out of curiosity, "Wait, if you were an actor…what are you doing here?"

"Working. I know it's Thanksgiving, but I could really use the money," Joey explained, totally missing the point.

Smirking, Chandler clarified, "No, I mean why are you a cashier if you were on your way to being a successful actor?"

"Oh, that," Joey replied. "Well, I tried to make it big in the acting business for years. I used up all of my savings, only getting odd parts here and there. I would have continued after DOOL…that's Days of Our Lives…but I couldn't afford it anymore. I got some money from the show, but I had to pay for rent and food….head shots and acting classes got to be too expensive after a while."

"Wow, that's really too bad. I bet you would've been famous one day," Chandler sympathized.

Nodding, Joey responded, "I think I could've."

Finished with the groceries, Chandler took out a twenty and put in Joey's hand. "Okay, there's the total on that receipt paper. You keep the change."

"Hey, thanks man!" Joey exclaimed when he saw the twenty. "I wish all my customers were as quick with the numbers as you. I can't wait to get out of here."

"Family dinner?" Chandler guessed.

Joey shook his head. "That too, but mostly cause there's gonna be a Baywatch marathon all day."

"There is?" Chandler replied, perking up at the thought. "That is awesome! Thanks man! I am so channel surfing for that!"

As Chandler walked away, Joey called, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Chandler," Chandler called back before leaving.

Before he could fully exit, however, he heard Joey say to a coworker, "Chandler…kinda sounds like chandelier, doesn't it?"

Chuckling to himself, Chandler paused when he reached the sidewalk, the plastic bag full of groceries swinging at his side. Do I really want to go home yet? While Janice would be in a better mood, her mother was probably there already.

Deciding that it couldn't hurt to kill some time, Chandler searched the street for a cab. Spotting one parked by the sidewalk, he got in the back seat. "Hey, can you take me to…"

"Nope, sorry, get out."

Chandler blinked. The blonde woman was staring at him, her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, what?'

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "This is a non-functioning cab. It is a personal mode of transportation. Get out."

"Wait. You can have a taxi as a car? That is so cool!" Chandler remarked, looking around the cab interior.

Smiling at the compliment, the woman stuck out her hand. "I'm Phoebe."

"Chandler. Nice to meet you." Shaking her hand, Chandler questioned, "So has this ever happened before? Or am I the lucky first moron?"

"No, you're not the first moron," Phoebe laughed. Sizing him up, an odd look came over her face, as if she recognized him from somewhere. Chandler found he was experiencing that same sensation.

Shifting uncomfortable, he moved to open the door. "Well, I guess I'll go get a real cab."

"Now hold on. Where do you need to go?" Phoebe asked.

Chandler hesitated. "I don't know. I'm kinda in the mood for a good cup of coffee. Do you know a place?"

"Actually, I do. It's this great place a few blocks away I play guitar at sometimes," Phoebe explained. "It's called Central Perk. I'll take you there if you want."

"Yeah, thanks!" Chandler replied, surprised by his stroke of luck.

Smiling at him in the rearview mirror, Phoebe responded, "No problem. It is Thanksgiving, after all. We just have to wait for my fiancé to get back from the store. I sent him in to get some oatmeal. Can't make oatmeal cookies without that, can I?"

"No, I guess not," Chandler chuckled.