Word Count: 1901
Summary: "And maybe the problem wasn't that he used humor as a coping mechanism, or that he didn't really take anything seriously, not really. Maybe the problem wasn't the jokes, and the constant need to talk. Because if he was quiet, that's when it got bad."
Disclaimer: I don't own Friends or the characters.
Thanks to my beta Geliot99 for taking the time to read this story and for the lovely notes.
Chandler knew there was something wrong with him. He felt dread every single time a joke didn't land well and everyone's eyes were on him like he was an idiot for even thinking for a second he was funny. He knew that his childhood had been messed up and sarcasm and jokes were just his way of pretending he was okay.
And maybe the problem wasn't that he used humor as a coping mechanism, or that he didn't really take anything seriously, not really. Maybe the problem wasn't the jokes, and the constant need to talk. Because if he was quiet, that's when it got bad.
But maybe that wasn't the problem. Maybe the problem was actually the anger. It was always there, just under the surface. The anger that came from feeling alone most of his childhood, of feeling like maybe he just wasn't good enough for anyone to stay. The anger that came from not understanding what was wrong with putting on mommy's makeup and why it was a problem he was so much like his dad. The anger that came from not understanding what was wrong with getting in the car with the man that mom is with.
But mostly, the anger that came from all those memories and the realization that came with maturity as to why everyone was always so mad.
It was always just there, under the surface. He carried on with his life as though none of it happened. As if his parents' abandonment and neglect didn't hurt. As if them not being there for his birthday parties didn't hurt, as if getting a card every year was okay and enough. As if seeing his father for two weeks a year was enough. As if watching his mother getting married again to someone he just met on the wedding day was okay and normal.
He made jokes about his mother's books and behavior, and his father's looks and shows, and pretended like it was all okay. He pretended not to notice the glances his friends made when he joked about his childhood . He knew it that worried them, which made him immediately tell some other joke that got him a pity laugh. He prefers those over them looking at him with pity and sadness.
I mean, even Phoebe glances at him like that. Phoebe. Who grew up on the street.
And it's not like he can talk about it. He could, but he feels like maybe he shouldn't.
Because maybe his friends don't need to know about the nights he spent with a pillow over his head to muffle the sound of the party his parents were throwing downstairs despite it being a school night. They don't need to know that he was a kid the first time he had a hangover because his mother's new boyfriend thought it would be fine to keep feeding him drinks – Chandler thought it was cool because the guy kept laughing at him which only fed his need for making people laugh. They don't need to know about the time that the other boyfriend of one of the people that was supposed to protect him – he was just the kid, he needed protection – gave him that pill that made him so happy but feel so bad in the morning.
They don't need to know any of that. They pity him enough already.
There's no need to tell them that one of the boyfriends punched him, or about that piano teacher that was a little too handsy.
It might slip up sometimes, some things. Things he will later pretend he didn't say.
What's worse is that he sees Ben grow up in what appears to be a normal childhood – even though the kid lives in two houses, and according to Ross, two moms aren't that normal (but Chandler thinks that as long as the parents are happy it doesn't matter. He would have preferred to have two moms over what he really had). And he sees everyone protecting him from curse words, certain movies that might be too violent, or the magazines that Joey keeps around.
And it's a good thing that everyone protects Ben. The only problem Chandler has with it all is that it makes him wonder why no one could've protected him.
When that boy shows up Chandler feels like he's seeing himself, if the world around him had been kind when he was all those ages Ben has been already. So, he tells Ben jokes and tickles him, and he colors with him. He pushes him on the swings and is there when he rides on his big-boy bike. He watches movies with him, helps him with homework when he's babysitting him, and gives him candy – he tells Ben not to tell either one of his mommies, but Chandler always tells Carol about it when she comes to pick him up because he knows she'll want some too.
When Ben leaves, Chandler feels better, like he was healing his inner child – Phoebe had explained to him what that meant when he asked why she asked Monica to make chocolate cookies so many times; it healed that little girl she once was that never got the simple things like chocolate cookies.
So, Chandler makes sure that Ben doesn't reach their age and needs to do the same. To find the little things that were missing from his childhood and call it "healing".
Every parent screws their kid over even without realizing it. Everyone noticed Monica pushing her food around the plate sometimes or complaining that her clothes were too tight and immediately starting to work out harder than she already did. Rachel might have stopped being so spoiled, but sometimes she was still that mean cheerleader that thought everyone should just stop what they were doing and pay attention to her, making it clear she was the middle child. Ross needed everyone's validation because his parents always gave him theirs. Phoebe had a hard time trusting and bonding with people. Joey was terrible with money, always buying things he didn't really need.
Chandler sees them all do these little things, obsessively like cleaning things, seeking attention, or buying unnecessary things, and wonders if in the end everyone just finds something to cope with their childhood.
And then there's Emma, born in the mess of Ross and Rachel, and Chandler wonders if that's just one more child to be screwed up due to her parents, if maybe one day she'll look herself in the mirror and realize she's her parent's child, that she has her father's eyes and her mother's nose, and they are still together in her. If she'll get too used to apologizing for everything because her mother was always doing that. If she'll know how to deal with the anger that every child inherits from their fathers. If she'll be as lucky as the six of them were to meet each other as they discover who they are outside of their childhood home.
What will be her coping mechanism?
Will she ever be able to explain to her friends, the close-knitted group of friends every twenty-something-year-old should have, that her father was divorced three times, and her mother ran away on her wedding day. How all of this happened years before she was born but somehow still managed to affect her.
How much stuff happened to everyone's parents before we were born that somehow managed to affect us? How many people met and broke their hearts, how many bad grades and bike accidents they had? Because mom is always mom, just like dad is always dad. There isn't a before mom and dad. We are their children, a product of their supposed love. At least Emma can tell her friends that she's a product of her parent's love.
Did Chandler's parents' friends think the same? Despite all the mess that Charles and Nora's relationship was, did they see love there? That at least their child would always see their love. Or was there always anger and distrust?
He wonders sometimes how his parents were before he was born. If his mother thought it adorable how his father was always able to help her with her clothes, or if his father thought it was interesting how witty his mother was.
Or if they were always somehow so mean to each other but stuck together because they had to. He remembers as a young child the mean look his grandmother sent his mother when she said she was getting divorced, and remembers sitting on the stairs as she told his mom that she should just try harder, to be a better wife, because the divorce would hurt all of them.
Socially, obviously. No one seemed to care about how the divorce would hurt him.
Because his mom left for a book tour not two days after that Thanksgiving dinner, and his father had left as soon as dinner was over to go to Vegas – Chandler wouldn't see him for nearly a year after that. And so, the boy was left alone in that house with the nanny, and his grandmother would sometimes show up pretending to be there to see him, but he knew she just wanted to know whether the divorce was happening or not. Otherwise, she would've been around more often as he grew up.
It's a miracle he turned out the way he did. He was more put together than he probably should. Despite it all, he managed to hold on to his job – that he hated – for years. Has been married for nearly three years, and has somehow matured.
When he thinks about that Thanksgiving dinner, he jokes about what the pool boy told him and about seeing that dinner in reverse, but never mentions the alcohol he smelled on his mother's breath for those two days, how her voice was slow and slurred, how she drove him to his baseball game despite being wasted, despite him telling her he would go with his friend's parents. But she told him she wanted to be closer to him – which never happened.
He doesn't talk about running after his father's car as he drove away, away from his life. He doesn't talk about how he didn't see Dad for nearly a year after that, and when he did see him it was in the airport, and all Chandler wanted to do was hug him, but now he wasn't his father anymore, he was someone else. All those dances, all those men, that didn't bother Chandler. What did bother him was how his father chose that life over his son's. Not that anyone would actually understand that.
There's always a part of him that he hid from everyone, even Monica.
But when he sees baby Jack for the first time, that beautiful baby and all those things he chose to ignore, he wonders how his parents could ever do all they did, because when he sees his son, there's nothing he wouldn't do to protect him.
His son wouldn't run after a car as he drove away from his life, he wouldn't hate a holiday for most of his life, and he would never feel unloved. He couldn't promise not to screw him up, but he knew he'd do his very best not to make all of the same mistakes his parents had done.
The End
I particularly enjoy getting into some of the characters head and try to understand their pasts. From the Friends series, the most interesting ones for me are Chandler and Phoebe, but I find Phoebe a very complicated character to write. Here's a small take on Chandler's past.
Explaination for the title - Aerumna means hardship and Ira means anger.