Listen to Your Heart – Chapter Thirteen
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Chandler sighed and glanced around the coffeehouse as he sipped his coffee, hardly registering what was going around him. The hot liquid burned his tongue but he hardly noticed. Since Mary Angela's second appearance in less than twenty-four hours, his mind refused to focus on anything but her request that he meet her for dinner the next night.
His friends were chatting and his daughter was playing happily at his feet, unaware of his internal debate.
Cautiously, he fingered the card in his pocket, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He'd forced a smile on his face all afternoon, hiding his inner turmoil. If his friends knew anything was wrong with him, they didn't let on. If they did realize, he reasoned, they probably just thought he was still anxious over his ex-wife's appearance at Joey and Rachel's wedding reception, and figured he wasn't willing to discuss it. He was thankful that Monica was still at work, because he knew she would recognize that something had happened to worsen his mood, immediately.
He huffed another sigh, his thoughts unconsciously shifting to his dilemma. Part of him didn't want to go to dinner with Mary Angela. It was too casual and premeditated. Having her show up at his door, unplanned, was one thing. Agreeing to meet her was another thing entirely. He didn't want to risk his relationship with Monica by going on a date with his ex-wife. He knew his girlfriend trusted him and that she was secure in their relationship; after everything they had been through together, they knew one another as well as any two people probably could. In spite of her outward confidence and trust in him, Chandler knew there was a part of her that was still insecure about Mary Angela's place in his life and what that meant for their relationship. He didn't want to worsen her fears.
The more precarious part of him thought it might be better to meet his ex-wife in person, where they could talk out their issues. Maybe he'd finally be able to find some closure and put her memory behind him once and for all. He was in love with Monica. Old feelings wouldn't be dragged up, would they?
"Chandler!"
Chandler suddenly looked up, at the calling of his name, slightly disoriented.
"Dude," Joey complained, "You've been staring off into space since you got here! I called your name, like, five times! Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Chandler nodded with a forced half-smile. "I'm fine. I was just thinking." He glanced at the others, and thanked his lucky stars that they weren't paying attention to the conversation between him and Joey. He loved them all, but they were far too meddling for their own good. At least this sort of involved Joey in that he was related to the source of his problem.
"Dude," Joey groaned, displeased, "Don't even bother lying to me. You're my brother! I can see you're upset! It's Angie, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Chandler agreed unenthusiastically, "I'm just so confused and disoriented and I don't know what to do! I hate this. I don't want to lose Monica or Michelle because I screwed this up!" He stroked his daughter's hair, watching as she enthusiastically scribbled in her colouring book, kneeling in front of the coffee table. She looked up at him and offered a bright smile.
"You're going to be fine, man," Joey told him confidently, watching the display of affection between father and daughter, "You have an amazing girlfriend, a beautiful daughter and friends who love you. You're going to get through this and we're all here to help."
Chandler smiled at him gratefully. "I know that, I just feel like this is something I have to deal with on my own, you know?"
Joey nodded, a little unsure. "Okay, but if you need anything…" he trailed off, purposely leaving the offer open to whatever his former brother-in-law might need from him.
Chandler clapped him on the back appreciatively. "I'll know who to come to," he promised.
Rachel leaned over from her seat next to her husband, making it clear she had been eavesdropping and whispered, "That goes for me too, Chandler! We're family now!"
Chandler groaned and complained good-naturedly, "Great, yes, I'm so glad more people are involved in this! I was hoping we could make this a public issue."
Rachel laughed sardonically. "Please," she scoffed, "You did that for yourself! You are the worst pretender ever! We all know you're upset, and we all know it's not just because Mary Angela showed up at my wedding reception!" Rachel's exclamation caught the attention of Ross, Julie and Phoebe who all looked up and nodded in agreement.
"She's right, dude," Ross agreed, "You're the worst faker ever. Ben did a better job of acting in his kindergarten play last week. And he was a flower." The others all giggled.
Chandler shot him a 'shut up' glare and flushed in embarrassment. He had honestly thought they were all oblivious to his personal problems. He should have known better. "You do?" he complained, "All of you?"
"Of course!" Phoebe chimed in, scoffing as if she thought she were stating the obvious.
"Even your daughter noticed!" Rachel pointed out. "If you hadn't been so out of it you would've heard her ask us why 'Daddy was fuzzy.' Uncle Joey thought you were growing fur." She giggled, poking fun at her husband, who crossed his arms petulantly, not enjoying the teasing. "Anyway," Rachel added, "we're all worried about you."
"It's nothing," Chandler said dismissively, trying to maintain a slightly indifferent tone. "Mary Angela just showed up at my door again today, that's all," he explained with a half-truth. Until he decided for himself whether or not he was going to meet his ex-wife for dinner, he had resolved not to tell anyone else his dilemma.
They all gasped. "She did?" Rachel squeaked, "What did she say?"
"Nothing," Chandler told them, huffily, avoiding looking at any of them.
"Oh come on!" Rachel snipped, "You can't tell us that and then not give us any details! It's inhumane!" She clasped her hands and looked at him pleadingly.
Chandler sighed knowing she wasn't going to relent and offered another half-truth. "She wants us to be together. She had some deluded image of us as a perfect family," he said quietly.
"Dude," Joey warned, a note of panic in his voice, "You can't go back to her! My sister doesn't deserve you! You'll get hurt again. You love Monica." The others all murmured in agreement.
"I know that," Chandler told them.
"Uncle Joey, Aunt Rachel?" Michelle butted into the conversation, looking up at the couch where her Aunt and Uncle were seated, before noticing her Daddy no longer seemed zoned out. "Daddy! Are you okay now? You were fuzzy before." Chandler nodded and Michelle studied his face for a moment, deciding whether or not he was telling the truth, before continuing, "I's done my picture. Wanna see?" All the adults on the couch nodded, so she held up her colouring book proudly for all her aunts, uncles and her daddy to see.
"Wow, sweetie," Phoebe complimented, "It's pretty." The others all nodded in agreement. Michelle smiled proudly, and flipped the page to begin colouring a new image.
"Dude," Ross continued the conversation angrily, once Michelle was safely re-engrossed in her colouring book, "You're not considering leaving my sister are you?!"
"Ross!" Julie complained, "Can't you see he's having trouble dealing with this without your interference? Don't complicate it. You know they love one another. They'll be fine!" Chandler smiled at her gratefully.
"I guess you're right," Ross agreed reluctantly, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek.
"Did you just admit someone other than yourself was right?" Rachel laughed. "So miracles do happen everyday!" Ross looked at her sarcastically and banged his fists at her. Rachel just laughed harder.
Joey looked at his wife in confusion, "What's so funny? What was that weird hand thing Ross just did?"
"Oh," Rachel giggled, "It's his way of giving the finger without actually giving the finger. He made it up to throw off his mommy when we were teenagers!"
Joey laughed, managing through his laughter, "Seriously, dude?" Ross scoffed, but was spared further embarrassment when his sister burst into the coffeehouse, heading straight towards them.
"How was work, Mon?" Phoebe greeted, as her friend settled in between Chandler and Joey on the orange couch, stopping briefly to kiss the top of Michelle's head.
"It was okay," Monica sighed, "Hard to concentrate. I have a lot on my mind." She looked at Chandler briefly before averting her eyes. He offered a small smile in return.
"Chandler told us what happened with Mary Angela," Julie explained, gently.
"He did?" Monica glanced at her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. After the debacle the previous night she was surprised he had opened up to them at all. She felt a little hurt that he was so willing to divulge what had happened to them, but she had spent hours trying to pry him into opening up to her. Chandler seemed to be reading her thoughts, and squeezed her hand tightly, kissing her cheek in a reassuring way.
"Yeah," Rachel nodded, "How are you feeling, honey? This must be tearing you up. I know how you were worr-"
"Rach!" Monica growled through gritted teeth, interrupting her friend, "I don't think this is the time." Changing the subject away from her feelings, Monica focused on Chandler, stroking his hair maternally, "How are you feeling, sweetie?"
"Daddy was fuzzy," Michelle chimed in, answering for her father, looking up at Monica with the wide, concerned eyes of a child, "He wasn't talking to nobody a'cause he was sad." Monica smiled at the little girl and tapped her chin, kissing it, mouthing 'Thanks, sweetie.' Satisfied she has divulged the crucial information for Monica to help her Daddy, Michelle smiled and went back to her colouring.
"I'm fine, Mon," he assured her, squeezing the hand on his leg, trying to reassure her, in spite of his own uncertainties.
She continued to look at him with worried eyes, "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," he told her, forcing another smile.
xx
"Chandler, do you want some soup, sweetie?" Monica asked him later that night, as she riffled through the fridge.
They were alone in her apartment, Michelle already fast asleep. Since Rachel had moved into Joey's apartment the previous month, Monica found she disliked staying in her apartment alone. Most nights she'd stay at Chandler's apartment, or they'd both stay at hers, with Michelle in the bedroom they'd set up for her in Rachel's old room.
"No thanks."
"Are you sure? I could make some chicken noodle?" Monica told him persuasively. She paused fluffing the pillow he was leaning against, and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch so it was tucked around him.
"Mon," Chandler sighed, turning to face her, over the back of the couch and pulling her around it and into the living room, seating her next to him, "How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine? You're treating me like I'm sick! I just want some time to think. That's all. I'm fine."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," she apologized, "I'm just concerned about you."
"That's not all this is, is it, Mon?" he asked gently, turning her chin so she was forced to look at him.
Monica averted her eyes. "What do you mean?" she questioned, though she knew exactly what he was asking. "You just seem to be coming down with a cold. That's all." She shrugged innocently, "I don't see the problem."
"You said you wanted me to open up to you. Now I'm asking you to do the same. I know you're not mothering me because you think I'm sick. You're freaking out, and this is how you deal with pressure," he explained rationally.
"Fine," Monica admitted reluctantly, "I'm freaking out a little. But it's only because I love you. You're going though this whole unexpected thing! I'm supposed to be there for you!"
"You don't have to do that, baby," he promised. "We should be able to lean on one another. This relationship is reciprocal," he explained, kissing her cheek. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you."
"I know."
"So tell me?" he pleaded, gently.
"You're still hung up on her, Chandler," Monica explained shakily. "What if you do work things out? I'll be left in the dust. I'm so in love with you. What am I going to do if that happens? The thought terrifies me. I need you."
Chandler hugged her and she buried her face in his chest, "Why didn't you tell me this, when we were talking about this, this morning?"
"Because you were so upset about everything," Monica explained in a small voice, "You needed me to be the strong, grounded one. Not to compound the issue by adding my own stupid insecurities to the mix."
"Being worried is never stupid, honey," Chandler countered, kissing her hair, "If I was in your position, I'd feel the same way. You were incredibly brave to be able to do that for me."
"Really?" Monica questioned, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
Chandler nodded. "Yes. I'm not going anywhere, though. Mary Angela is my past. You are my future. That's all there is to it."
Monica stared into his eyes imploringly, "How can you know that for sure?"
"Because I do," Chandler said confidently, squeezing her tighter, "Anything I feel for her now is just residual feelings from years ago. I'm in love with you. Nothing I feel for her can compare to the way I feel about you, now." Monica didn't respond. She closed her eyes and reveled in the comfort she always felt in his arms.
xx
Chandler looked around the restaurant nervously. After spending hours mulling over whether or not to show, and alarming all his friends, his girlfriend and his daughter in the process, he had decided he had to see her.
He felt incredibly guilty for showing up at all, but he had reasoned with himself that he was doing this in an attempt to find some closure. Perhaps if he sat down and had dinner with Mary Angela and they were able to talk through their issues, he would realize he wasn't missing her anymore and he would finally be able to put her solidly in his past. That seemingly logical reasoning did little to quell his guilt or the feeling he was betraying Monica in some way. He hadn't told her what he was doing or where he was.
He routinely glanced around the restaurant, surreptitiously keeping an eye out for anyone he knew that might tell her before he could. He knew he was being paranoid, since the chance of running into anyone he knew in the tiny Italian restaurant were slim, but the last thing he wanted was for her to find out what he'd done without the benefit of his explanation. He really didn't want to have to decode the trail, and run around the city trying to stop Monica from finding out something that would unnecessarily hurt her. Ross had told him the horror story of his breakup with Rachel and how that little ploy was ineffective.
He glanced at his watch, eager for the night to be over so he could go home and curl up in bed with Monica, and forget he ever had an ex-wife. The minutes seemed to be dragging on at an impossibly slow pace. He was still five minutes early. Months of being with Monica had brought out his more punctual side. He smiled inwardly as he thought of himself before he had fallen in love with her. He was hard-pressed getting his daughter to preschool on time. Now he was showing up for appointments early.
He glanced up again, nervously looking for anyone he knew and caught sight of Mary Angela walking towards him. His breath caught in his throat as his nerves rushed at him at full force. If he was honest with himself, it wasn't just his nervousness that caused his reaction. She looked really good. Her sultry black dress fit her perfectly. He loathed himself for thinking it at all, but she almost looked sexy. He forced away the thought, reminding himself he had come for closure, not to destroy his relationship with Monica.
She smiled at him shyly as she slid into the seat across from him. From the glint in her eye he knew she had noticed him checking her out and flushed in embarrassment at being caught. He didn't want to give her any encouragement. Closure. This was about closure.
After a few moments of terse silence, Mary Angela spoke first. "I didn't think you were going to show up. I was so nervous getting ready, wondering if you would, if I was just setting myself up. I'd convinced myself you weren't going to. I'm so glad you have. You look good. You've always cleaned up well," she said winningly.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Chandler returned shortly, "I'm here so we can settle this thing" he waved abstractly, "between us and get some closure. Maybe then we can both move on without these residual feelings. This idea you have of us being a family… it's been three years, Mary Angela! You had to know I could've moved on! I could have been remarried! Or had another kid!"
"I know," she replied. "I just wanted it to be that way so badly I had fooled myself into thinking it would be. Maybe, it's not as ideal as it could be, but maybe we still can be a family," she suggested hopefully, "You showed up. You haven't remarried or had another child! I know you still have feelings for me. We have a child together. We make sense. What does she have that I don't?"
"Maybe we could in some alternate universe, but we don't in this one," Chandler told her resolutely, "I love Monica now. I trust her. I can't trust you. That's the difference, and it means the chance of us is gone."
"Okay," she agreed, her tone apologetic, "I don't want to fight. I want tonight to be about us, together. I want to prove to you how much you mean to me." She clasped his hand, from its resting on the tablecloth, in hers, gently caressing his skin on the back of his hand with her thumb. Chandler froze, unsure if the contact was crossing a line. He didn't have too much time to deliberate, as Mary Angela spoke up again, obviously trying to distract him, "Tell me about Michelle?"
He yanked away his hand in horror, suddenly afraid she would attempt to fight for custody. "Michelle!" Chandler asked panicked, "Wh-Why do you want to know?"
"She's my daughter, isn't she?" Mary Angela asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I suppose," Chandler drawled, forcing himself to answer the question, less spitefully than he felt. "She's good. She's in kindergarten now. Her teacher loves her. She's creative. She loves arts and crafts time and is always bringing home pictures of something or other. She's smart and beautiful and amazing. But you wouldn't know any of that, would you?" he snipped, unable to resist one final stab.
"I guess not," she sighed, her eyes downcast, "I'm never going to make this up to you, am I? No matter what I do you keep taking these little jabs! I am not a bad person! I make a mistake! I want to make it up to you. How can I prove it to you?"
He stared at her for a moment, feeling slightly guilty for his meanness. "Sorry," he apologized half-heartedly, "Just… do you realize how hard this is for me? You've been gone years! Years! I never thought I'd have to deal with this. I wasn't prepared."
She reached toward his hand again tentatively, "I know."
Chandler was spared from coming up with a reply when the waiter sauntered up to their table. "Good evening, sir, miss. Do you know what you'd like to order, tonight?" he queried.
Even though neither of them had glanced at a menu, they both knew what they wanted. Chandler's eyes met Mary Angela's briefly and he surprised himself by answering for both of them. "I'll have the pollo parmigana and she'll have rigatoni monsanto, please. Bruschetta to start, for both of us?"
The waiter smiled pleasantly, jotting down the order on his notepad, "Will that be all?"
"Actually, we'd like a bottle of chardonnay, as well," Mary Angela added, smiling at Chandler coyly. Chandler sighed, resolving to keep his drinking to a minimum. He had a history of doing stupid things while drunk, like sleeping with Mary Angela in the first place. He wasn't going to ruin his relationship with Monica because he was a drunken idiot.
"Of course," the waiter nodded with a wink, making another note on his pad, "Will that be all, then?" They both nodded politely, thanking him.
Once the waiter had retreated out of sight, Mary Angela leaned over to Chandler, grinning. "I can't believe you remembered."
Chandler shrugged indifferently, blowing off her appreciation, his tone suggesting it was no big deal, "You used to love this place, Angie. We came here any chance we got. Of course I remembered."
"You just called me Angie," she told him quietly, her eyes suspiciously misty, "You haven't done that since before I left."
"Don't read too much into this," Chandler sighed, not wanting to give her a reason to hope for a reunion between them. Closure, he wanted closure, he reminded himself.
Mary Angela grinned, fiddling with her silverware absently. Ignoring his warning, she continued, "God, it feels good to hear you call me that again." She looked up, smiling into his eyes. "You're not mad anymore," she declared, "You're just acting distant because you're unsure how else to deal with your feelings."
"Mary Angela," Chandler stated, his voice hard, "Don't do this."
She looked into his face apologetically, not wanting to make him feel pressured enough to withdraw from her completely. She was finally making progress. Seeing Chandler's stony exterior hadn't budged, she changed the subject, hurriedly. "So, you were telling me about Michelle, earlier? Before the waiter came?"
Chandler smiled faintly at the thought of his daughter's antics and nodded slightly, "Michelle is good." Mary Angela sighed in relief.
"Come on!" she pressed, curiously, pleased to have found a safe topic "I know you have more to tell me than just that. Does she still love cookies? Does she still carry Shell around everywhere?"
Chandler nodded, "Yeah, She still loves cookies. She's graduated from animal cookies to chocolate chip, though. She and Monica love baking cookies. Michelle says she wants to be a chef when she grows up, now." Mary Angela stiffened at the mention of his girlfriend's name, not wanting to be reminded of her existence. Chandler failed to notice and continued, "She doesn't carry him everywhere, but she still sleeps with Shell every night." After a moment of silence, he added, "Do you remember when you gave him to her?"
Mary Angela nodded "Yeah, a couple weeks before I, um…" she trailed off, embarrassed for being unable to say the words, "Does she, uh, know he was from me?"
Chandler shrugged, "No. How would I tell her? She's four years old, Mary Angela. Telling her that her favourite stuffed toy was from her Mommy, who isn't around, would confuse her. She'd want to see you."
"And you wouldn't let that happen?" she asked quietly, "I want to get to know her, Chandler. She's my daughter, too. You can be there, too, if you like. We can have time together, as a family?" she suggested hopefully.
Chandler faltered. "I, I don't know if that's a good idea, us being together all the time. Or at all. It would hurt Monica, and we aren't a family, anymore. I'm in love with someone else, Angie," he said softly. He wanted to put her off, but he didn't want to hurt her. He wasn't willing to be the person who needed revenge to make himself feel better. He was going to be the bigger person. All they needed was closure. Fighting and being petty wasn't going to push them any closer towards that goal.
"I just want to see my daughter, Chandler," Mary Angela countered, defensively.
"Even after all these years apart, I still know you, Angie," Chandler sighed, slightly irritated, "Don't lie to me. You've still got this fantasy idea of us being a family in your head. I won't stand for you to use Michelle like that. This involves us, not her."
She exhaled heavily, admitting, "You're right. But would it really be so bad for us to be a family again? If we have the slightest chance to work this out, we should try. You're an amazing father. I can learn to be a good mother, with your help."
Chandler stared at her plaintively, his voice flat, "Flattery will get you nowhere."
Mary Angela smiled and rolled her eyes, "I'm done looking stupid. I'm telling it how I see it. You're an amazing father. Our little girl is lucky to have you." Chandler shrugged bashfully, fighting down his pride at the compliment. "I'm serious, Chandler," she insisted, "I can see that Michelle is happy and that's all I ever wanted for her. She's beautiful, intelligent and well adjusted. And it's all your doing. Even before we had Michelle, I knew you were going to be a wonderful father."
Chandler shrugged noncommittally, offering in the way of an explanation, "I love her more than anything. She's my life."
"I know," Mary Angela nodded, scooting her chair towards his, so they were both sitting on the same side of the round table they had been seated at. "You're amazing. You haven't changed much in three years." She studied his face, carefully, "If anything," she smiled at him, "you look better. Your hair is a little longer than I remember." She reached up to finger it gently, "I like it." Chandler knew the contact was treading into dangerous territory, but couldn't force himself to put a stop to it. It was familiar and comforting, but exciting at the same time. They stared into one another's eyes for a moment.
"I've missed you," Mary Angela told him, sincerely, leaning to kiss his cheek, her hand still touching his hair. Chandler stiffened slightly, caught off guard when she pressed her lips gently against his.
xx
It's been a busy week with Christmas stuff. We put up our tree and lights and I did a little Christmas shopping. I love this time of year! I was considering doing a little Mondler Christmas oneshot to celebrate the season. If there's any interest in that, let me know and I'll see what I can come up with as a little Christmas present for all of you, my wonderful readers :)
I'm still planning to put out a couple more chapters of this one, as well, before Christmas, if I can finagle it, but we'll see how it goes :) My exam has been cancelled, due to the strike, so now that it's just work I have to contend with, I have a little more time on my hands, Christmas preparations aside.
Anyway, thanks for reading and please review and give me some inspiration :)