His palm brushes the small of her back while pulling out her chair and the contact sends a rush of heat through her. Resolutely she tries to banish the memory of the many intimate touches between them from the night before. This has all been a mistake, an awful, awful mistake and she needs to shift her attention away from the tender moments of the hotel room and back to the important task of repairing their friendship.
He's seated across from her now and looking at the menu provided but she has the distinct impression he's only pretending to read the choices printed there. "So what we did last night," he begins with false casualness, eyes never leaving the menu.
"Was stupid," she interrupts, desperately wanting to say it before him.
"Totally," he agrees promptly. She thinks he might deflate slightly at her words, but he recovers so quickly she's not certain she didn't imagine it. "Crazy stupid. What were we thinking?"
"I mean you," she gestures at him and then herself, "and me? Crazy."
"Totally," he repeats with gusto. Their agreement and mutual scoffing disintegrate shortly however and the 2 are thrown into a relentless and awkward silence.
"I mean it was great," she tells him honestly, again fighting to suppress unwanted recollections of their lovemaking.
"It was great," he agrees.
"And I think you're great," she tells him diplomatically.
"I think you're great too," he replies, eyes resolutely on his table setting.
"I think you're smart and you're sweet," she continues.
"I think you're smart and…well you're very smart," he jokes and it helps break the tension just enough for her to finish her sentiment.
"But you and me, together? I just can't see it. I mean you're not exactly boyfriend material, right?"
"Right," he replies curtly, all humor gone from his voice.
"No. No. That came out wrong," she tells him soothingly. "I mean you're great!"
"You said that already," he tells her brusquely.
"Right," she acknowledges awkwardly. This is going worse than she'd prepared for, which is saying a lot given the numerous possible ways she'd imagined this conversation could unfold. All she wanted to do was get things back to normal. Swallow this bizarre ache he seemed to produce in her lately and pretend nothing ever happened. Just get her old annoying friend Chandler back.
"Monica?" He pulls her back to the present and she realizes that while her mind's been racing, their server has arrived and already taken Chandler's order. He stands now looking at her expectantly, pen and pad in hand.
She's just been staring mindlessly at her menu for the last 10 minutes so she takes a second to focus and spits out the first item that grabs her attention. "I'll have the cheddar omelet."
Along with their orders, the waiter takes away their menus and with them the pretense of reading they'd provided. Now, hesitantly Monica looks up at Chandler for the first time in several minutes and is startled to find him staring at her in angry disbelief. "What?" She asks defensively.
"That's it?" He scoffs.
"What's it?" She asks, thoroughly confused.
"That's your order? I'll have a cheddar omelet?" He mimics.
"Yeah, so?"
"No, yokes on the side. Or cheddar cheese, but only if it comes from a cow named Elsie. But if not, than nothing?" He asks in the same mocking tone.
"No, just a cheddar omelet. So what?" Monica asks confused. Why the hell does he care what she's getting for breakfast?
"Nothing," he says angrily. After a minute though he continues, "I just find it ironic that 'Miss Hospital Corners' over here has such low standards for her breakfast all of a sudden, precisely at the moment she gets such demanding ones for her potential boyfriends."
"Look, I said I was sorry," she tells him getting angry herself now. "Why do you care anyhow? It's not like you want to be my boyfriend."
"Oh and you know what I want?"
"Yes! You just want the easy stuff, all the fun, all the talking, all the sex, and none of the responsibility. Where there's no commitment and no one gets hurt." Does he really think she hasn't been paying attention the last year as he's backpedalled out of every possible relationship that's managed to come his way?
"None of that is true!" He tells her angrily. "You seem to have forgotten I was married for 5 years."
"Right, your failed marriage," she exclaims sarcastically. "Who could forget that? And don't you think it's just a little convenient that you'll get to hide behind that one for the rest of your life?" She knows she's crossing a line here, but his angry criticisms of her, particularly today after they'd been so open and vulnerable with one another just hours before, hurt just a little too much.
"Have you lost your mind? This isn't about me, Monica," he spits her name out as if it were distasteful to him. "This is about you and all your weird hang-ups. You're obsessed with some perfect fantasy you made up as a kid. You probably even have some binder somewhere filled with magazine cuttings of bridesmaid dresses and floral arrangements. You won't be happy till you've got some Richard-esque husband, 4 kids, and a house outside of the city. One of those old Victorian ones probably, with the dormer windows in the attic and the little kitty door for your cat to come in and out."
"So!" She yells, furious now. "So, I want things the way I want them. Why is that so wrong? Why do you even care?"
"You know what? I don't. I don't care," he announces, rising to leave. "I'm not really all that hungry anymore," he tells her, taking a 20-dollar bill from his wallet and tossing it onto the table. "I'll see you at the wedding."
She waits all of 10 seconds to make sure he's left the dining room for good before breaking out into a fit of sobs.
"Is everything alright, Miss?" Their server, who unfortunately has chosen just this moment to return with their meals, asks in concern.
"Fine, fine," she tells him, trying frantically to come up with some plausible reason for her outburst. "It's just that my friend stole that 20 from my purse," she improvises, indicating the bill Chandler's left on the table, before bursting into tears again.
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Beep. "Chandler? Hi, it's Monica. Crazy wedding, huh? We never really got a chance to talk, what with all the madness after my stupid brother said the wrong name up there. Anyhow, give me a call."
…
Beep. "Hey, It's me again. Just checking in. I know you hate it, but Thanksgiving's coming up and I thought maybe you guys would like to come by again this year. We can watch the parade. I'll make you some grilled cheese sandwiches. Heck, I'll even let Joey put sunglasses on the turkey again this year. So let me know, or don't, whatever. I'm breezy like that."
Beep. "Actually, if you're coming could you let me know ahead of time so that I can plan the menu? But just like by Monday, or Tuesday morning at the very latest. Okay, bye."
…
Beep. "Chandler? It's me. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Call me."
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"Hey that guy stole our moves!" Ross yells angrily at the television.
"Hmm?" Monica asks distractedly bringing her attention back to the living room and her brother.
"That dancer, right there," he gets up from his seat on the couch to point out the person in question on the television screen. "The moonwalk into the cabbage patch is straight from our routine from middle school." He struts across the living room repeating the sequence of dance steps to further drive home his point.
"Oh yeah," Monica responds without enthusiasm, still barely attending to her brother.
"Hey," Ross says consolingly, coming over to throw an arm around his sister's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I'm not very good company tonight, am I? I know this isn't exactly the New Year's Eve either of us had planned."
"No, it's not," he concedes. "But it's not all bad. We've got Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve on the tube. That's tradition!" he tells her, pointing back to the television. "We've got Brown Bird Mint Treasures, the greatest cookies of all time," he emphasizes the point by holding the box out to his sister. Reluctantly, Monica takes a cookie, looks at it sadly for a moment before shoving it, in its entirety, into her mouth. "And you beat me 3 straight times in Gin," he finishes gesturing to the cards on the coffee table.
"Yeah, but you suck at Gin," she tells him with a grin.
"I know you're just depressed so I'm going to ignore that," he tells her grinning back.
"I not depressed!" She protests. Though after a moment she flops back onto the couch cushions conceding, "No, you're right. I'm depressed. God, why am I so depressed?"
"It's probably just the holiday. You know it's New Year's Eve. You're feeling lonely. There's all this pressure just to find something with lips so you can kiss it at midnight. Who wouldn't be depressed?"
"Yeah," she sighs.
Unwittingly the memory of kissing Chandler last New Year's flashes into her mind. She remembers dancing across the ballroom with him and the feel of his arms holding her close.
"This is nice."
"I know. It is, isn't it?"
"No, I mean it, this feels really good. Is it 100% silk?"
"Yeah, and I got it on sale, too!"
"That's my girl. Happy New Year, Monica."
"Happy New Year, Chandler."
She remembers other things too, like their banter in the diner all those years ago on the trip to New York…
"Monica, the only reason a guy would go through all the trouble for someone that you've been describing would be to sleep with her."
"That's not true. He's doing all this for me because he's my friend."
"It is true."
"Well, that's pathetic."
"Also, true."
Their flight to Las Vegas…
"So how have you been? Good?"
"Yup. You?"
"Good, really, good. You?
…Oh right, we did you."
Hours spent talking over coffee at Central Perk…
"Why do I get the feeling if I stick around I'll hear plenty sarcastic comments?"
"Ah, a witticism, very nice. So do you want to?"
"Want to what?"
"Stick around. Get dinner or something sometime."
And late night telephone conversations before bed…
"Look at how in love they are."
"I know. Remember when you tried to tell me this wasn't a romantic film."
"When did I say that? I never said that."
"Yes you did, on the flight to Las Vegas. Don't you remember? We fought about it the whole trip!"
"I never said that."
"Fine. You never said it."
Everything had been so easy between them then, the conversation, the affection. She can't remember ever being happier. She can't remember anyone ever making her happier, not Richard, not her friends, just Chandler.
"I need some air," she tells her brother hurriedly as the sudden emotion she feels at her memories starts to overwhelm her. She rushes to the door almost frantic now as the realization that she may never have that closeness with Chandler again hits her. Haphazardly tossing on her winter gear, she's nearly out the front door when Ross calls her back in confusion, "Where are you going? It's almost midnight."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just need to find Chandler." She tells him, not caring that she's all but admitted her newly discovered feelings to her brother.
"Chandler?" He asks in confusion. "Why?"
"Because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!" She explains fleeing from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Stunned, Ross turns his attention back to the festivities unfolding in Times Square on the television. "My best friend and my little sister," he murmurs to himself. "Who would have thought?"
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"There you are! Haaa! You got away from me!" Janice's high-pitched shriek startles him, nearly causing him to spill his newly filled glass of champagne down the front of his suit.
"But you found me!" He tells her with an inward groan, though outwardly cheerful, mimicking her teasing tone.
"It's almost midnight," she tells him grabbing onto his tie and dragging him to her, almost causing him to spill his drink a second time. "I'm just gonna go freshen up so I'm all ready for the big kiss," she threatens.
"Alrighty then," he tells her retreating form. Then turning to Joey and Rachel he pleads in a quiet whisper, "Kill me, kill me now."
"Can't we kill her instead," Joey pouts.
"Yeah," Rachel agrees. "What were you thinking inviting that woman tonight?"
Initially he'd intended to turn down Joey's invitation to the New Year's Eve banquet being hosted by the Days of Our Lives producers. However as the date came nearer and nearer, he'd begun to dread the idea of staying home alone even more. Ever since he'd fought with Monica, he's dreaded being alone at all, a condition that invariably seems to lead to his thinking of his estranged friend. Once he'd made his mind up to attend, he'd gone temporarily insane and invited his well meaning but horribly annoying old college girlfriend, the only woman in New York who he could be certain would kiss him at midnight.
"I snapped okay?" He admits. "I couldn't handle the pressure of being alone at midnight and I snapped. I'm not saying it was a good idea, I'm saying I snapped."
"Oh good God. She's coming back. C'mon Joey, let's dance," Rachel says dragging Joey onto the dance floor in her haste to escape before Janice's return.
"I'm back," she sings to him in a way he's sure she intends to be flirtatious, but sounds menacing to his ears.
"Yes you are," he confirms taking a large step backward to maintain some physical space between them.
The ballroom begins to buzz in excitement now as they reach the final minutes before midnight.
"All ready, lover?" Janice asks stepping forward again, causing him to back up once more, this time into one of the cocktail tables that circle the dance floor. The half empty plates and champagne flutes wobble dangerously but luckily don't fall.
"You know, Janice. I don't think this is such a great idea actually. I think I might just head out." He motions frantically to Joey and Rachel hoping for their assistance in making his escape.
"What?" Janice asks in confusion, blocking his path to the exits. "It's almost midnight," she argues reasonably.
"That's true," he admits. "But I've got an early morning tomorrow. So…"
"Doing what?" She asks suspiciously just as Rachel and Joey rejoin them on the sidelines of the dance floor.
"I'm moving," he tells her, realizing the poverty of the excuse just as he invents.
"On New Year's day?" Janice asks in disbelief, just as Joey chimes in with his own surprised, "You're moving?"
"Yep," he answers her with a quick shake of his head to Joey as Janice looks away for a moment in confusion.
"To where?" She presses. "I can help you move."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. You see I'm moving very far away." Her suspicious gaze is making him incredibly nervous which is the only thing that can explain the next words out of his mouth. "Very far actually, to Yemen."
"Yemen?" Janice asks doubtfully.
"Wait, is that off the A train?" A confused Joey asks Rachel who merely puts a patronizing arm around his shoulder, "I'll explain later honey."
"You know what I think," Janice says holding onto him by his lapels and dragging him into her personal space, "I think someone's a little worried about our first kiss since we've been reunited. Don't worry, lover," she tells him seductively brushing invisible lint from his jacket. "Kissing Janice is just like riding a bike, a bike with a tongue," she laughs at her own joke and the irritating sound finally prompts Chandler to action.
"That's not it, Janice," he tells her firmly, disengaging her from his suit and taking many steps back towards the banquet hall doors. "I'm sorry but I just can't kiss you."
"Well, why not?" She demands.
"Because I'm in love with Monica," he blurts out. He peeks over at Joey and Rachel who are both sporting matching looks of shock and surprise. He initially attributes this to his sudden outburst until he hears a quiet voice behind him.
"What?"
He turns to find the woman herself, who has appeared from nowhere, seemingly magically transported to the banquet hall. Monica's terribly underdressed in her jeans and coat, her hair matted from the winter hat she's just removed, with pink cheeks and sweaty brow, but all Chandler can think is that she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in real life.
"What did you say?" She asks again, tentatively as if afraid of his answer.
"Nothing. I said 'I can't kiss you' and then I just stopped talking."
"You said you loved me," she tells him with a little more confidence.
"No I didn't." He says more forcefully as the shock of seeing her begins to wear off and he remembers that he's angry with her and regardless of how he feels, she doesn't love him back.
He makes to leave now, heading towards the doors, but she follows him determinedly repeating, "Yes you did. You love me!"
"No I don't," he exclaims turning furiously around to face her. "Stop it! In fact, sometimes I don't even like you. That's right. Like when you snort when you laugh. That is very irritating," he rambles. "And how you only ever eat tic tacs in even numbers! What's up with that? You never relinquish control. Which is the worst," he continues, getting louder and louder with each complaint. "But most of all I hate how you'd throw away something really, really special and wonderful because it doesn't fit some stupid ideal you made up a million years ago."
Of course now, he realizes he's said too much and he's totally laid his whole soul bare before her, not to mention the cast and crew of Days of Our Lives who all stand around riveted by their argument not caring that the 20 second countdown to midnight has begun. But it hardly matters now. A life without her is misery whether his dignity is intact or not. So he just sadly repeats, "I really hate that," before moving to leave.
"Wait!" She tells him grabbing his arm to hold him in place. "Let me talk. In all my life I never thought I would be so lucky as to fall in love with my best friend. I thought it mattered, all that stuff you said, the husband, the kids, the house. Then I realized the only thing that matters is you. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way." She's barely managed to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling through her speech, but now they force their way down her cheeks.
She's just about to brush them away when Chandler steps forward and does it for her, bringing his thumbs to her cheeks and gently holding her face in his hands.
"10-9-8-7…" The crowd around them begin the countdown to midnight, finally distracted from the public spectacle Monica and Chandler have been creating.
"Please kiss me at midnight," she asks him as he continues to gaze at her.
He's really never been able to deny her anything, so he leans forward and complies bringing her lips to his.
"3-2-1. Happy New Year!" The cheers erupt around them as they kiss.
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"The first time we met, we hated each other."
"Don't tell her that!" Monica admonishes with a playful swat, "The second time we met he didn't even remember me."
"The third time we met we became friends," Chandler tells her looking lovingly into Monica's eyes.
"We were friends for a long time," she agrees taking his hand in hers.
"And then we weren't." Even now, his face falls a little remembering those terrible months when they were apart.
"And then we fell in love," she says bringing the smile back to his face. "Three months later we got married."
"Yeah it only took 3 months," Chandler says happily.
"Eight years and 3 months," Monica corrects him.
They look to Laura in excitement, "So what do you think?" Chandler asks nervously.
"Well I've got to say, I think you're going to make excellent parents."