Chapter 2: One Life Can Touch So Many Lives

In the moment after Clarence snapped his fingers, Chandler stared around his Oklahoma hotel room, feeling oddly bemused. He still thought this guy was full of it, claiming to be an angel, and he half-expected this guy to drop the act and make a grab for his wallet or something. He should have never even let him into his room in the first place. Though the timing of Clarence's arrival had been quite creepy.

Suddenly, the hotel faded around both men, and all at once, Chandler found himself back on the streets of New York. Specifically, he was standing just outside what looked like the edifice for Central Perk.

But instead of looking into a coffee house, Chandler was bewildered to peer inside the windows and see a nightclub.

This couldn't be the place that he had frequented every day…. except at a cursory glance, he was disconcerted to note how the nightclub had the same outside edifice, the same rough floor plan as….

"Central Perk. Where's Central Perk?"

"Central what?" Clarence sounded quizzical, his tone bemused.

"The Central Perk coffeehouse! Where is it?!" Chandler shouted, frustrated.

"Oh, that place was torn down years ago, turned into this nightclub."

Frowning hard, starting to feel ice seep into his veins, Chandler racked his brain. "Ross! Ross should be in there, sitting on the orange couch! He should be walking in and saying Hi like a dour schmuck!"

"Oh, well, Ross is still dour, at that," Clarence chuckled. "But he doesn't live here, Chandler. He's on Long Island…"

Chandler glanced back at Clarence, now beginning to feel creeped out. "Long Island? No, no….. his parents – our parents – live on Long Island!" He thought of Jack and Judy, Ross and Monica's parents, his own father-in-law and mother-in-law.

"Yes. Jack and Judy are still on Long Island. Ross lives with them."

Chandler started to chuckle nervously, wagging a finger in this 'angel's' face. "A successful professor of paleontology still living in Mommy's basement? Sorry, dude, nice try, but I call bullshit!"

Clarence grinned, and his knowing, almost omniscient, smile irked Chandler. "That was your best play? Now let me show you mine."

The effect was so instantaneous, Chandler started to get the feeling he had been teleported. All at once, they were standing in the Bings' living room. Chandler jerked sharply as the door to the kitchen swung open, and in walked his brother-in-law.

But it wasn't the Ross he knew and adored. This Ross still wore an Afro that went out of fashion more than fifteen years ago and even sported the same moustache from college. He was wearing big nerdy glasses and….

"Oh, my God!" Chandler gawked, horrified and dismayed. "He's a geeky loser!"

"Ma? I'm going to that lecture about trilobites down at the community college," Ross was calling back over his shoulder. "I'll be back for my curfew!"

Chandler turned to study Chandler, now leery. "All right, Clarence Darrow, what is this? What happened to Dr. Geller?"

"Ross still is Dr. Geller. He got his PhD but he was a loner in school, bit of a shut-in. He had no friends in college because everyone thought he was a nerd. He never even had a roommate during any of his four years."

Chandler blanched. He had been Ross's roommate. They'd been paired together thanks to that silly Myers-Brigg study their freshman year and had actually hit it off.

"Wha…. What about Carol? Or Rachel?"

"Carol? Rachel? He never married either of them, never even had so much as a chance with either one of them. You weren't there to show him how to not be socially awkward around girls, never mind how to simply make new friends. Ross lost touch with Rachel after high school. He never even met Carol."

Chandler was now starting to feel sick. If Ross never had a shot with Carol or Rachel because Chandler hadn't been there to act as his wingman, then that meant…. No Ben. No Emma….. Chandler hugged his stomach as he thought of his little nephew and his little niece, linked to him by virtue of the family he had married into.

"Now, look here, Clarence, if this is some kind of practical joke, it is not funny! And I know funny! I make jokes…. usually very sarcastic ones, but still!"

Clarence shook his head sadly. "This is no joke, Chandler."

Chandler twisted his face into a leery frown and pointed at the angel. "Are you pulling a Joey? Pretending to be all serious when you're really hiding the punchline?" A thought struck him. "Joey – where's Joey?"

The scene shifted again. They were back in the city, on a nondescript sidewalk. Chandler scanned the buildings around him, not really getting his bearings.

He happened to glance down, and passed over the homeless man slumped against the brick wall twice before he recognized him. When Chandler did, he leapt a foot in the air.

The bearded, scraggly bum down on his luck was none other than his roommate and best friend. A needle syringe was sticking out of Joey's one arm, and Chandler winced.

"Joey?"

The man lolled his head at the sound of his name, bloodshot and dead eyes. "Who wants to know?"

Shocked, Chandler slowly knelt in front of his dearest friend. "Joe…..? – It's me, Joe….. Joey, come on, it's me! It's Chandler!"

"Chanel?" Joey started giggling uncontrollably, his eyes unfocused, looking like he was stoned. "That's a lame perfume…." He seemed to all at once be seeing Chandler and yet looking straight through him.

"Clarence….?" Chandler warbled, eyes still fixed on Joey. He was beginning to sound scared. "Why is Joey a drug addict?"

"Joey tried to be an actor for a time, but without you there to offer encouragement, he eventually slacked off going to auditions. What jobs he did get, he was often fired or written off once he began heavily using," Clarence intoned.

"No…. No…." Chandler shook his head. "Joey wouldn't do drugs! He loves acting! More than anyone I've ever met! Sure, he has more misfires than hits, but he works harder than anyone!"

Clarence eyed Chandler sadly. "How hard do you think anyone can work to pursue a dream if they have no one in their corner pushing them to go for it?"

Chandler felt chills overtaking his body. "No – this is…. this is a lie! Joey Tribbiani was Dr. Drake Ramoray on Days of Our Lives! He officiated at my wedding! He could date a hundred different women at once, practically. Why, even Rachel…." He paused. "Rachel….. Clarence, what happens to Rache?"

Clarence had an almost pitying look on his face. "You really wanna know?"

Chandler nodded, the motion at once both wary and eager.

All at once, he found himself in an immaculate mansion.

Rachel was seated on a couch, her blonde hair curly, as if it had just been in some pink curlers. She had on designer clothes and was flipping through a magazine. Her cell phone suddenly rang, and she picked up.

"Barry? Honey?... Another appointment….. Yes, I know it's our anniversary, so why can't you….? I understand. The practice needs you; I'll see you whenever." Rachel hung up the phone sadly and poured herself another glass of Chardonnay. She stared at the flickering images on the TV screen. From what he could see of the program, it looked to Chandler like she was watching the HSN.

"Oh….. what I wouldn't give to design something like that…." Rachel sighed morosely, as she watched the sellers present the latest fashions. "…. Instead of spending another night alone, in an empty house."

Chandler turned and stared at Clarence. The look on his face was almost disgusted, as if it was Clarence's fault that Rachel was drinking herself into a stupor while her husband was skipping their anniversary to work at the office late. As if it was Clarence's fault for somehow creating this funhouse mirror world… and maybe he had. Certainly, the bastard was trying to pass of this as reality. A Chanderless world.

Rachel was now flipping the channel and Chandler was disconcerted when Days of Our Lives came on. The character onscreen was being referred to as Dr. Drake Ramoray, but it wasn't Joey playing him.

Rachel sighed and knocked back her drink with a practiced flick of the wrist. "And wouldn't you just love to have a guy like that sweep you off your feet?" she sighed.

"I can't blame her," Clarence shrugs. "I'd be ogling TV characters too if I knew my husband was really staying at the office to late to cheat on me with my secretary."

Chandler glanced from Rachel to Clarence and back again, bewildered. "Rachel marries Barry?"

Clarence nodded. "She is just a trophy housewife, unable to work because her husband brings home all the money."

"But Rachel does work! She's a very successful fashion….!"

"She isn't because you weren't there to encourage her to get out of a job she hates to pursue a job that she loves…." Clarence sighs.

"Well, Ross would! He's her husband!" Chandler was spluttering.

"No, Barry is. To Rachel, Ross is just a memory from high school. Ross never got the courage to pursue Rachel because you weren't there to teach him how to approach girls, remember?"

Chandler glanced back at softly crying Rachel, his heart breaking for the woman who, in another life, should be and likely soon would be his sister-in-law.

"Doesn't she have anybody? A friend at least? Someone for girl talk? Like Phoebe!" Chandler froze at the pained expression on Clarence's face and he swallowed. "Where is Phoebe, Clarence?"

"Phoebe is where she's been for the last sixteen years….. Hart Island."


Clarence next transported Chandler to the famous island off the coast of New York where many of the city's unclaimed were buried in pauper's graves. Clarence pointed to an unmarked one. "She's right there, Chandler."

Chandler knelt before the mound of earth, feeling his breathing shorten, his eyes pooling with tears. He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a sob.

"Oh… Oh, Pheebs….. Why is she….?"

"She was never the same after her mother died, as you might remember. Phoebe always craved stability in her life, and since you weren't there to act as a role model for her, she lived on the streets. Eventually, she became a prostitute, at least until she committed suicide – on Christmas, too. The anniversary of her mother's death."

"That's a lie!" Chandler blasted out in angry denial. "Phoebe Buffay was a masseuse! Had a successful career! She's engaged to Mike Hannigan; I'm supposed to give her away!"

"Not anymore, you won't," Clarence intoned. "Don't you get it, Chandler? You were never here. You don't exist."

Chandler started digging at the pauper's grave under which Phoebe was buried with his bare hands. "Pheebs! Phoebe!"

"She can't hear you, Chandler! She's dead." Clarence shook his head, almost in wonderment. "Isn't it funny, how one man's life can touch so many other lives….?"

Chandler lifted his head, his fingernails still caked with dirt.

"Clarence…." He breathed, for the first time speaking with stupefying calm. "…. Where's Monica…..?"

Clarence's eyes shifted. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do…. tell me!" Leaping to his feet, Chandler grabbed Clarence and shook him. "I don't know how you know these things, but tell me – where is she? Huh? Is she at the restaurant?"

"The restaurant?" Clarence blurted. "Monica doesn't work at a restaurant. You were never there to compliment her on her cooking, so you never inspired her to go into the culinary arts."

"Clarence, I'm begging you: if you know where she is, tell me where my wife is…..!"

"You're not going to like it, Chandler…."

"Damnit, Clarence! Where's my wife?!" Chandler screamed, eyes frantic now.

"….. She's an old maid. She never married."

Chandler staggered back. No….. Oh, merciful universe, no... His mind flashed to a beautiful summer's day outside Central Perk, where Monica had once bemoaned to him about her unlucky love life. I'm never gonna find a boyfriend again... I'm going die an old maid... He had offered, only half-facetiously to be her boyfriend then; it had been right before their magical night in London.

"Where? Where is she? Where's Monica?!" Chandler was almost rabid.

"She's just about to close up the library!" Clarence howled, as Chandler took off, leaving the angel to collapse into the snow.


Chandler ran as far and as hard as he had to in order to reach the New York Public Library. When he finally arrived at the imposing structure, he took the steps two at a time, pausing about three-quarters of the way up when he spotted a woman turning a key in the lock of the double doors.

From the back of her head, he could tell instantly, even if he would have been hard pressed to achieve recognition from anything else about her physique. Monica now was as chubby as he had remembered her being back when she was in high school and he was in college, the Thanksgiving that they first met.

Yet, when she turned away from the doors, head drooped sadly, Chandler took one look at her downcast eyes and he would know that face anywhere.

"Monica…."

He hadn't breathed it out that loudly, yet she still heard him, jerking to a stop and studying him quizzically, blinking. Shying away leerily, she lumbered down the steps as fast as her girth would allow and began to move hurriedly down the sidewalk, casting a glance back over her shoulder once or twice.

Chandler shook himself out of his stupor and began to follow in hot pursuit down the sidewalk, chasing her back down. For someone who was overweight, Monica was surprisingly light on her feet as she waddled, her pace quickening once she sensed she was being followed.

They were nearly at Central Perk – or, what should have been Central Perk – when he finally caught up with her. "Mon…. Mon! Monica….. Monica!" He finally overtook her, grabbed her, spun her around in his arms, even as she yelped and thrashed. Never had she looked at him with such blankness, such fear. "Monica, it's Chandler! Don't you know me?! What's happened to us?!" Chandler was only vaguely aware that he was shaking her in his panic, the earnestness and desperation starting to make him feel as though he was coming unglued. Perhaps he was. What was this world where his brother-in-law was a permanent child, where he, Chandler, had drugged and even dead friends? Where his own wife apparently didn't recognize him?

"I don't know you…. Let me go!" Monica howled.

"Monica, don't do this to me! Please! You've gotta help me! Where's our family? I need you, Monica!"

Monica screamed. She finally broke free and lumbered into the closest building with remarkable speed for her size – which just happened to be Non-Central Perk, calling for help. Chandler lunged after her, fighting upstream against a crowd of gawking onlookers, some of whom were moving in to intercept him.

"Help! Help! I'm being attacked by a wild man!" Monica was screaming and crying. "Somebody stop him!"

Chandler's path to his love was blocked by a crowd of men, including some of the bouncers at the nightclub. Glancing wildly into the faces for any signs of sympathy, Chandler was startled to see that he recognized a few:

"Gunther…. Lowell! Doug!" His friends and colleagues from another life stared blankly, even hostile-like, back at him. Spotting Monica, Chandler pointed desperately. "That's my wife!"

Monica screamed again and now swooned into a dead faint. It took several people to prop her up.

"Monica!" Chandler fought to get to her, but he was getting boxed in from all sides.

"Oh, no you don't…."

"…. Somebody call the police!"

"…. This one needs a straightjacket over here!"

"Clarence!... Clarence! – Clarence!" Thrashing, eyes wild and desperate, Chandler struggled to break free and only after shoving Gunther away did he manage to do so, lunging for the doorway of the Central Perk nightclub to flee. Just as he reached the street, his path was blocked by a policeman.

Chandler didn't think. He hauled and punched the cop square in the face before sprinting in a panic into the city and into the night. He picked up his stride when he heard gunshots being fired after him.

He didn't stop until he had reached the Brooklyn Bridge. Sagging against the railing, Chandler wailed out into the darkness beyond:

"Clarence! Clarence! Help me, Clarence!... Get me back! Get me back; I don't care what happens to me! Get me back to my wife and my friends! My family! ….. Help me, Clarence, please! Please! ….. I want to live again! I want to live again!" Chandler collapsed against the railing in tears.

Just as a car was pulling up, a light snow had begun to fall…..

"I want to live again! Please, God…. Let me live again…..!"