The end for real this time...thanks for putting up with me and for all the wonderful feedback!
"So man, I don't know, you know? I mean I really like Rachel. She's smart and beautiful and so, so sexy. But everything's been so weird since the wedding, you know? Like she and Ross have all this history and then he goes and says her name up at the altar and I don't know what that means. What do you think that means?"
"No clue," Chandler replies distractedly.
"I can tell she's all confused and lately it just seems like we're kind of forcing it, you know? Not to mention, I really like Ross. Ever since we all started hanging out, I consider the guy a friend. Now this thing Rachel and I have going on seems really complicated. Chandler? Earth to Chandler? Are you even listening to me?"
"I slept with Monica," Chandler answers, mainly because the sentence has been running through his mind incessantly for the past 3 weeks and he can't stand to not say it out loud any longer.
"What?" Joey asks, totally blindsided by the information.
"I slept with Monica. We slept together."
"You?" Joey asks, pointing his finger at Chandler. "And her?" He points now to the door of their apartment, presumably toward Monica off somewhere beyond the threshold.
Chandler just nods, simultaneously relieved to have unburdened himself of his secret, and horrified by how real this all seems now that he's said it aloud.
"How? When?" Joey asks in rapid succession.
"It happened at the rehearsal dinner."
"The rehearsal dinner!" Joey screams in surprise. "That was ages ago!"
"Yes, but you can't tell anyone."
"Oh, man. This is unbelievable. I mean its great." Joey looks at him with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness for a moment before adding, "Was it great?"
"The doing was," Chandler answers honestly. "I mean unreal. I've never felt like that before. You know how I'm usually all," here Chandler makes a gesture somewhere between a seizure and jazz hands to denote his legendary ineptitude with women. "There was none of that. I was totally unrecognizable…in a good way. It wasn't weird at all. It was like, why haven't we been doing this the whole time?"
"Ah. That's so awesome!" Joey says happily. However noticing his friend looks anything but awesome, he adds, "So what happened?"
"I don't know," Chandler admits miserably throwing his head back against the padded headrest of his barca lounger. "I just freaked out. I mean everything happened so quickly. One minute I'm there consoling her about her ex-boyfriend and the next we're ripping a hole in the space-time continuum."
"Oh no! The condom broke?" Joey asks horrified.
"What?" Chandler replies before realizing how he's confused his friend. "No! No. The point is when it was over I didn't know what to say to her. You know, usually you go to bed with a woman and afterward you tell her all about you and she tells you all about herself. But with Monica we already know everything there is to know about one another."
"So what did she say when you guys talked about it?" Joey asks coming around the counter to join his friend in the living room in his own matching chair.
The mix of shame and guilt on Chandler's face is too obvious for even Joey to miss and he quickly admonishes his friend. "You haven't talked to her yet? Chandler, it's been 3 weeks! Do you know anything about women?"
"I didn't know what to say," Chandler deflects weakly.
"Well you better come up with something," Joey tells him. "Because we're supposed to be at Ben's party in about 20 minutes and you know she's going to be there."
"I know," Chandler agrees miserably. "I know. God, we never should have done it."
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"God, I wish we'd never done it," Monica admits with a dramatic sigh, banging her head lightly against the wooden partition.
"But it was good?" Rachel asks from within the changing room. Their afternoon shopping excursion before Ben's party, initially designed to discuss Rachel's love life, has quickly been high-jacked by Monica's with her admission of her and Chandler's tryst the night of Ross' rehearsal dinner.
"God yes. Honestly the best I've ever had."
"With Chandler?" Rachel asks doubtfully.
"I know!" Monica agrees, her tone suggesting she's just as surprised as Rachel. "But it was a mistake," she admits sadly a moment later. "He can barely look me in the eyes now."
"I'm sure that's not true," Rachel tells her, not used to hearing her usually terminally pragmatic friend sound so dramatic.
"Do you know what I told him after?" Monica asks timidly.
"No, what?"
"I thanked him," Monica admits in embarrassment. "Can you believe that? I actually thanked him and told him that it meant a lot to me. And do you know what he said?"
"What?" Rachel wonders.
"He told me I was really hot," Monica sighs with another head bang for emphasis. "I bear my soul and he tells me I'm hot."
"Oh sweetie," Rachel consoles, exiting the dressing room now and gathering a miserable Monica into her arms for a hug. "I can't believe you waited so long to tell me all this."
"I feel so stupid," Monica admits into Rachel's sweater. "And he's going to be at Carol and Susan's this afternoon. I don't know if I can do this, Rach."
"It's going to be okay," Rachel tells her friend soothingly. "It will all be okay," she repeats, hoping it's the truth.
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"Monica. Hi. Hello," Chandler greets nervously, tripping over himself in an ill-fated attempt to appear nonchalant.
"Chandler," she nods coldly at him before turning to Joey and flashing him an overly warm smile. "Joey, how are you?" She asks earnestly.
"Good, good," Joey tells her distractedly scanning the room. "Do you know where the food is at this party?" He asks, already moving away from them to better assess what fare might be offered.
"So how have you been?" Chandler asks once they're alone, trying to engage her in conversation.
"Fine." Her voice is frigid and Chandler's heart sinks a little in his chest. Not surprisingly he has managed to screw up the one great thing in his life just as badly as he's been imagining.
"Listen," he says after a moment, lowering his voice furtively. "Can we talk for a minute?"
"I'm still not done not wanting to talk to you," she tells him in the same cold tone turning to walk away.
"We need to talk about it sometime," he tells her in frustration.
She had intended to storm away, but his words bring her back. "Sometime?" She asks in an angry whisper. "How about 3 weeks ago?"
"I know, alright," he tells her sincerely. "I'm sorry. I was embarrassed, okay? Honestly, I thought you'd be embarrassed too. I thought we could both use the time." He knows it's a weak excuse, but at least he's being honest, right?
"Embarrassed?" She asks in angry confusion. "What would I have to be embarrassed about?"
"Come on," he tells her with an exasperated eye-roll. "It wasn't exactly your proudest moment, right?"
"Excuse me?" Monica's voice has gone up several octaves and they are beginning to attract the attention of the other guests, so Chandler quickly takes a livid Monica by the elbow and leads her out of the apartment and into the hallway.
"Look, I'm not judging," he explains, trying to make her understand. He knows she thanked him and all after the act, but it's not like she could possibly see sleeping with him as anything but a huge mistake. She's forgetting that he knows her. She's obsessed with marriage and babies and all those other things that a loser like him could never give her. "God knows, you're not the first person to ever get depressed about an ex and then jump into bed with someone else."
Monica actually gasps at this and asks in angry shock, "Are you calling me a slut?"
"No!" Chandler protests.
"Look at me. I'm a slut!" She mocks sarcastically, ignoring him entirely now.
"Jesus," he exclaims in frustration. "I know you're mad that it happened, Monica. I am too. But its not like I asked for this to happen, alright? You kissed me. What did you expect me to do?"
"What are you saying? You took pity on me?" She asks furiously. "Fuck you!"
Her small palm across his face is a sharp reminder of how ridiculously strong she actually is. He's still reeling from her assault when she storms back into the party.
He follows behind her, not sure if he wants to explain himself further or fight some more, when they're abruptly distracted from their argument by Carol beckoning to them from across the room.
"Monica! Chandler! Come over here and leave a message for Ben," she waves across the living room.
"Um, Carol? Why am I talking to Ben through this," Chandler gestures to the video camera that's been arranged to point directly at the loveseat, "when he's literally right over there? He and I were just shooting Krog with his sonic blaster gun half an hour ago."
"It's a video time capsule. We do them for each of his birthdays," she explains. "Each guest at the party leaves him a video message and then when he's 18 we'll give them to him to watch."
"Sounds like a fun party," Chandler says with a sarcasm that Carol either misses or ignores. He looks over to Monica to see if he's managed to make her smile but she's still staring angrily at her hands.
"Maybe you can play it for him 3 weeks after his birthday," she bites back earning her a look of confusion from Carol and an angry huff from Chandler.
"Ben," Carol begins, over-articulating her speech at the video camera whilst wrestling Monica and Chandler besides one another onto the love seat. "This is Aunt Monica and Chandler, the 2 people after your mommies and your daddy who probably love you most. Say hi, guys!" See demands turning to a sulking Monica and Chandler.
"Hi Ben," Monica recites obediently. Chandler finds all he can manage is a sad little wave, preoccupied as he is with how the very best relationship he's ever had is unraveling right before his eyes.
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Beep. "Mon. Hi, it's your old pal Chandler, just calling to apologize…again. Call me."
Beep. "C'mon, Mon. It was a just a stupid fight! You deal with it and you move on. It's nothing to freak out about. Call me. Please."
Beep. "Monica was a head chef, dun, dun. She was a good friend of mine…She never knew a dumber guy than me, but she forgave me from time to time… Ba, ba, ba. dah, ba…Singing, joy…to the world, all… the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Please, oh please, call me. So I bought the karaoke machine! Obviously. Call me and I'll promise to sing to you! Or…I'll promise to never sing to you. Whichever one will get you to call. Okay, bye!"
Beep. "Monica. Moooonica. Monicaaaa…ach…ech..aah. Sorry choked a bit there at the end. Call me."
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"Obviously she doesn't want to talk to me. What? Do I need to be hit over the head? I'm done making a schmuck out of myself." The jelly stain on his sweatpants and paper crown sitting jauntily on his head make this pronouncement a little less believable than Chandler might hope. But Joey just nods in agreement as he easily catches the mini basketball Chandler tosses his way and dunks it through the small hoop hanging on the door frame.
"You know, this is a great way to ring in the New Year," Joey tells him. "Two best buds hanging out, having some pizza and beers. Way better than being at some swanky museum party with the girls. Who needs that stupid party anyway? With the dumb open bar? And those cute tiny hot dogs on the little sticks? And those little date things wrapped up in the bacon," Joey gets a far away look in his eyes as he imagines the varying appetizers they'd gotten to taste last year. Chandler thinks he may be starting to drool a little so he calls him back to the present, "Um Joe? You were saying?"
"Right, right," Joey replies shaking his head slightly to disperse the tantalizing memory of teriyaki meatballs and cheese bites. Then turning back to Chandler, he adds, "Besides, you're about to give the Knicks their first championship since 1973." He passes the basketball back to Chandler who makes a big show of aiming his shot before missing widely.
"Ugh," Chandler moans miserably. "Who are we kidding? This sucks."
"Thank you!" Joey agrees in relief, "It so, so does."
"Listen man, get out of here." Chandler tells his loyal friend. "There is no reason you need to be a victim of this Dick Clark holiday too. I'm sure you've got a hundred girls lined up to ring in the New Year with you."
"Well yeah," Joey admits proudly before adding. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna leave my best pal alone."
"Really, it's okay. Believe me, I'm not much up for hanging out anyway."
"Monica?" Joey asks knowingly.
Chandler just nods.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around tonight? Or you could come out with me? New Year's Eve?" He says suggestively, "Lots of lonely ladies looking for company?"
"No thanks," Chandler responds. "Go on. Get out of here. Have a great night. I'll be fine."
As it happens, this is a huge lie and after about 10 minutes or so of being left alone in the empty apartment with his thoughts, Chandler finds himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of New York City woefully underdressed for the chilly late December weather.
This is good, this is good. He tells himself staring into the displays of the trendy boutiques along 8th street. Window shopping is great! All the fun and none of the expense. New Year's resolution #1. Stop making fun of Monica and Rachel for their shopping habit. At the thought of the girls however his attempts at levity fall flat just as a particularly strong gust of cold air blows through the tall buildings hitting him squarely in the face.
He ducks into a nearby bodega to escape the wind and wanders along the aisles feeling horribly lonely as a group of revelers pops in off the street decked out in their evening wear to buy up the few remaining bottles of cheap champagne on display in the window. He briefly considers buying a bottle himself and drinking it as he wanders, but decides that that course of action would be a bit too pathetic even for him, so he makes do with a bottle of yoo-hoo from the cooler before heading back out onto the streets.
This is a good move. It's 10 degrees out and the wind chill factor in my mouth is a million below. Could have gotten a coffee. He thinks to himself. Could have gotten a hot chocolate. That would have been delicious…and festive. But no, for me, ice cold yoo-hoo is the wise choice. Ice cold yoo-hoo is perfection. I loathe myself. He concludes sadly, noticing for the first time that his wanderings have taken him to Washington Square Park where Monica had dropped him off all those years ago.
This is pointless, he realizes suddenly. He can't escape Monica. She's everywhere. He's known her literally since the moment he's come to New York. Worse yet, she everywhere in his head. He could move to Oklahoma or some equally remote place and she'd still be sitting there behind his eyelids every time he shut them. As his mind's working all this out, his body, always a step ahead, is already unsuccessfully trying to wave down taxis. Realizing a cab ride is probably out of the question, he pulls up the collar of his flimsy windbreaker and begins to run, as fast as his poor abused lungs will allow, towards the museum.
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"Oh my God, Monica!" Her brother squeals obnoxiously, "Where did you meet him? He's amazing!"
"And so rich!" Rachel happily contributes, listing what to her seems like Pete's finest quality.
Ross briefly sends Rachel a reproachful glare before reconsidering and concurring excitedly, "Yes! So, so rich!"
"I'm going," Monica tells them resolutely, unreceptive to their praise of her date for the evening. Though she'd eventually given in and accepted Pete Becker's advances after weeks of turning him down, she's regretted it pretty much every moment since. The 2 of them have zero spark, and admittedly her mind and heart are very much otherwise engaged despite her best efforts to deny it.
"But it's almost midnight," Rachel reminds her with a whine.
"I know, but I can't stand the thought of not kissing anyone at midnight. I'll call you tomorrow," she cuts them off and heads towards the exits before they can remind her that Pete is there and perfectly willing to provide a set of lips should she require them. She's just nearly made it to the coat check, her mind now fully engaged with Chandler whom she's been chasing out of her thoughts all evening, when he appears whole and real before her.
"What are you doing here?" She stutters in amazement, taking in his disheveled appearance and countenance.
"I need to talk to you. It's urgent!" He exclaims excitedly. Then continuing when it appears that she'll let him, "Okay, I've been doing a lot of thinking about us, y'know a lot of, um, thinking, about us," he stutters, "and the thing is, I love you."
"What?" Monica asks in shock. "Chandler, why are you saying this?"
"I don't know. But I know I'm not afraid to say it."
"I'm leaving," she tells him moving to pass, clearly unimpressed with his pronouncement.
"Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?" He asks in a panic.
"What is it supposed to mean?" She asks spinning furiously around to face him. "Look, I know it's New Year's and I know you're sorry about what happened between us. But you can't just show up here and tell me you love me and expect it to make it all alright. It doesn't work this way?"
"Well how does it work?" Chandler asks angry himself now. Trust Monica to turn a suitor murderous during a love confession, he thinks wryly.
"I don't know. But not this way," she insists stubbornly.
"How about this way? I love that you have 11 different categories of towels. I love that you play football like Reggie White. I love I can smell your shampoo on my clothes after a day of hanging out with you. And I love that you're the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And I didn't come here tonight because it's New Year's or because I'm sorry or because I'm lonely. I came here tonight because even though I thought this was going to be the most difficult thing I ever had to do, I realized how simple it was. I love you. And any surprises that come our way, it's okay, because I will always love you. You are the person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with," he tells her emphatically before recollecting himself and adding nervously, "Unless you don't want to."
She just stares blankly at him as the countdown to New Year's begins around them.
"I am so bad at this," he comments sadly preparing to leave.
"Wait," she tells him with a smile, "I think you're better than you think you are." They stand staring at one another as the clock strikes midnight and confetti flutters down upon them.
"Really?" He asks tentatively, "Are you sure?"
"You want to know if I'm sure?" She asks stepping forward placing her hands on either side of his face, before lifting herself up on tiptoes and placing her lips to his.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?
"My whole life, I've never known what this song means," Chandler jokes breaking their kiss after several moments.
"I know exactly what you mean," she tells him smiling widely for what feels like the first time in months.
"I mean, does it mean we should forget old acquaintances? Or if we happen to forget them, that we should remember them?" Chandler continues.
"Maybe you're supposed to remember you forgot them or something?" Monica suggests. "Anyway, it's about old friends."
"And I've got it on the karaoke machine!" Chandler states happily, pulling her in for another kiss.
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"The first time we met, we hated each other."
"Don't tell her that!" Monica admonishes her husband with a whisper, "The second time we met he didn't even remember me." She tells the bundle in her arms conspiratorially.
"The third time we met we became friends," Chandler tells his own bundle before sending a wink to his wife across the dim nursery.
"We were friends for a long time," she agrees laying Jack in his crib.
"And then we weren't." She can't see his face in the darkness, but his voice still sounds sad after all this time.
"And then we fell in love," she says tearing up a little at the happy memory, "Three months later we got married."
"Yeah it only took 3 months," Chandler tells Erica, before kissing her temple gently and laying her in the crib.
"Eight years and 3 months," Monica corrects him.
"It was a beautiful wedding," he tells the sleeping twins from the doorway. "We'll tell you all about it one day," he promises, ushering Monica from the room and quietly shutting the door behind them.