Chapter 5: Touching the Divine
Monica piloted her minivan into the school parking lot, rounding into the drop-off curve before slowing pulling up to a stop in front. Through the rearview mirror, she glanced back to where her niece was gathering her tiny backpack.
It was getting better, these days of sending her inside: that first morning of kindergarten, Chandler had been with her and they'd cried for ten minutes while parked in the parking lot.
"Got your pencil case?"
"Yes..."
"Your folder?"
"Uh-huh."
Monica grinned, turning all the way around now in her seat. "OK, Emma-bean. Can I get a kiss?"
Emma, not yet at an age where parental public displays of affection would repulse her, eagerly lurched into the driver's front and puckered up her lips. Monica kissed her on the mouth quickly, watching carefully as her niece pulled the sliding door open.
"Have a good day, Em-and-Em! I love you!"
"Love you, Mommyca!" Emma chirped, happily waving goodbye as she dashed up to her teacher and several of her friends. Keychains – a gift from her Aunt Amy – bounced on the backpack at her back.
Pressing the button to re-engage the automatic close function for the side door, Monica tried not to frown or in any way bristle at the pet name. Mommyca…. The term of endearment was a more recent addition on the part of Emma. Chandler thought it was clever, as he would; it amused him.
Watching as her niece lined up with her classmates, Monica couldn't help but wonder if the pet name wasn't Emma's way of trying to tell her something. She studied the girl now, in the early morning sunlight.
….. She looked like Ross. Which meant she looked like her aunt. True, there were hints of Rachel in there, mostly in hair color. Build. Certainly mannerisms. Yet the Geller genes dominated enough that more than once, strangers had stopped Monica in the street to compliment how her 'daughter' looked just like her! On these occasions, Monica would smile and gush outwardly, while inside she would feel queasy, as a certain kind of guilt inevitably took hold.
Monica kept her eyes on her charge as she disappeared through the doors, until Emma was beyond her view. She turned and glanced back into the backseat behind her.
There were toys on the floor. Bits of encrusted crumbs from snacks stuck to the carpet and under the seats. These were the inevitable signs of busy motherhood, and the obsessive-compulsive neat freak in Monica recoiled from them with a wince. The Nissan Quest was overdue for an interior deep clean. Pulling out of the drop-off circle, she steered for home.
Monica stopped off at the restaurant first, then phoned her husband at his office at work. Chandler had risen through the ranks at the ad agency; between himself and his wife, Emma didn't want for anything.
Except perhaps a little brother or sister…. er, cousin. Over the past year or so, Monica and Chandler had discussed whether she still wanted to go through with the adoption plan they had settled on before Ross and Rachel had died and their own lives had been upended. Chandler seemed insistent, and Monica agreed, that no decision was to be made final until they had discussed it with Emma.
A couple of hours later, Monica left the restaurant to go pick up Emma from school. She was glad to not have the late shift tonight: dinner and bedtime routine with her family was sacred and essential, and besides, her sous chef would have things well in hand for the dinner rush.
Arriving back at Bedford Street, Monica and Emma climbed the stairs to Apartment 20. Letting Emma turn the key in the lock, Monica glanced back at Apartment 19 behind them. Joey had moved out two years ago, to Los Angeles to jumpstart his acting career, but had been dutiful in his efforts to stay in touch.
As evidenced by Emma now letting out a squeal and bending to scoop up the mail from the doormat, the top piece of which was clearly marked in Joey's scrawl. He wrote to Emma on a semi-regular basis, and for Joey, being 'semi-regular' on anything – including television – took dedication.
The girls moved into the apartment, Monica glancing up with a smile when she saw her husband at the kitchen table, the glasses he used for reading pushed down to the bridge of his nose.
"Hey, sweetie!"
"Hi, Uncle-Daddy!" Emma cheeped, scampering over to the table to fling herself nearly into Chandler's lap, such was the exuberance of her hug. Chandler smile had a heavy, aged quality to it as he squeezed his niece back.
"Hey, Emma-bean. Have a good day?"
"Yeah!"
Chandler kissed the crown of her head. "Well, why don't you go over and watch some TV? I think LazyTown is on…."
"No way, Uncle-Daddy Chandler! I wanna watch Uncle Joey on Days of Our Lives!"
Monica chuckled with a rueful smile as Emma bolted over to the television set and started flipping through the channels until Dr. Drake Ramoray flickered onscreen.
"Should we really be letting our five-year-old watch re-runs of a soap opera? And a trashy soap opera at that?" Chandler asked his wife, shuffling the papers in front of him while stealing a wary glance at their squirming niece on the couch.
"Just so long as you keep your eyes peeled for anything racy. And hey, family loyalty is important to her. She loves her Uncle Joey." Monica tossed the mail onto the table. "Speaking of, she got another letter from him today…."
"Oh, yeah…. Yeah…. Sorry…." Chandler muttered distractedly glancing between the mail and his own papers. "Forgot to…. pick that up…."
Monica smiled and ruffled his hair. Glancing to make sure Emma was sufficiently engrossed in her TV program, she hunched over and whispered:
"Daddy-Uncle? What's that all about?"
Chandler shrugged, smirking with what might have even been a hint of pride. "Sounds like something she's trying out." At the look his wife gave him, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I didn't teach her that!... I didn't!..." he insisted.
"Uh-huh. Just like you didn't teach her to start calling me Mommyca?"
Chandler grinned boyishly. "Now that one's pretty clever. When she grows up, she should go into advertising!" Watching Monica's skeptical look slowly soften, he did too. "I swear I didn't teach her that, Mon. She came to it on her own."
Monica crossed to the counter and started fixing dinner.
"If it bothers you, I can ask her to stop…" Chandler floated, careful to keep his voice low.
Monica shook her head, fighting to not wipe away the tears that were threatening to pool in her irises. She sensed her husband coming up behind her and when his arms went around her waist, she sagged against him. Turning her head, she shared a look with him.
"Is it OK that I feel guilty?"
Chandler dipped a chaste kiss to her lips. "In what way?"
She paused, searching for the words. "I can't explain it…."
"Try me."
She shook her head, flashing him her best reassuring smile. "Maybe it'll come to me after dinner."
Chandler nodded, however reluctantly, and headed back to his papers. Craning her eyes, Monica caught a glimpse of what was on them.
"…. More listings?"
"Mike and Pheebs passed along this one," Chandler held up the top paper on the stack. "Westchester County, 2 bed, 2 baths. And it's close to your folks." He shrugged. "We said we wanted to get ahead on looking now, especially if we, you know….. make that decision about you-know-what…."
Monica nodded. "Well, I'd like to look at it with you. Maybe get in on an open house…."
"Sure."
Monica fixed dinner. By the time she was serving, Emma had gotten through one episode of Days of Our Lives and binged her way through most of a second.
"You should tell your uncle how much you liked those episodes in your reply to his letter," Monica suggested as she scooched Emma's chair in at the table.
Emma beamed and nodded eagerly.
The family of three sat down to eat. Chandler finally got the conversation going, setting down his fork with a smile.
"Well, team: the holidays are coming up! Is there…. anything in particular you'd like for Christmas, Emma-bean?"
Monica leaned into him surreptitiously. "If you're trying to get her to say 'a new house,' how do you think Santa's gonna get one down the chimney….?" She muttered on the edge of her breath. Unless it's a doll house, she thought.
"How about a little….. playmate?" Chandler murmured back, landing on the final word a little awkwardly.
"I know what I want for Christmas!" Emma declared confidently.
"What's that, babe?" Monica smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.
"All I want for Christmas is for you and Uncle-Daddy Chandler to adopt me."
Stunned silence. Chandler and Monica glanced at each other.
Monica cleared her throat, rearranging her face into an expression of calm. "What, um…. What made you decide on that, Emma?"
Chandler chuckled, a little awkwardly. "Yeah, and have you given Santa ample notice…?"
"Yeah," Emma nodded, turning back to her plate. "Santa can deliver the forms, and then you and Mommyca can adopt me!"
Chandler and Monica exchanged another look. "Well, tell you what, Em-and-Em: your uncle and I will talk to Santa about it. OK?"
Emma beamed broadly. "Yay!"
"You all done with your plate?"
"Yes!"
"All right. Any homework?" Monica queried.
"Nope!"
"Are you sure….?"
"Yes, Auntie."
Monica felt an odd mix of relief and pain at hearing Emma refer to her as 'Auntie.' "OK. Time for bed, munchkin!"
Emma pranced into her room that had, in another time, once been a guest room, then her mother's and Aunt Phoebe's before it. The little girl changed into her pajamas, scrabbling onto the bed like a crab as Monica turned down the covers and tucked her in.
"OK….. brush your teeth?"
Emma's face flushed pink. Monica smirked and stood aside for Emma to sprint across the apartment and into the bathroom, then scrub her teeth rapid-fire before scampering back into bed.
"Breathalyzer test!"
Emma breathed on Monica, who made a show of scrunching up her nose.
"Aunt Monica!... They're clean!..." Emma whined.
"OK, OK, I believe you!" She bent and kissed her little one on the forehead. "Goodnight, Emma-bean."
"Mommyca?"
"Hmm?" Monica was a little shocked with herself that she was already responding instinctively to the pet name.
"You wanna know why I asked Santa if you could adopt me?"
Monica tilted her head. "Why?"
Emma's voice was small. "…. Because I want a mommy and daddy."
Monica felt the tears threatening to invade again. "Baby… Mommy and Daddy are…"
"… in heaven. I know. But I want a mommy and daddy here, on Earth." Emma pleaded. "Ben has two mommies. He said Aunt Carol and Aunt Susan adopted him after…"
"That was different," Monica explained patiently. "Auntie Carol is Ben's mother. Aunt Susan was the one who had to adopt him."
"Why don't you want to adopt me?" Emma whimpered. "Is it because you don't….?"
"God, no!" Monica cried, unable to bear hearing her niece finish the thought. Kneeling by her bed, Monica caressed Emma's little blonde curls, only now letting some of those tears slip out. She just about moaned, "No….. How could you think that…..?"
Emma shrugged and glanced down at the bedspread, unsure how to answer.
Regarding her niece's question, Monica wasn't sure how to answer herself. Well, she was – it was just difficult to voice those thoughts aloud.
She took a deep breath. "Daddy-Uncle and I will talk to Santa," she promised. "Let's…. see what he says."
Emma brightened like a Christmas tree, and Monica kissed her fiercely on the forehead. "Goodnight." Monica drifted to the doorway, turning back. "I love you." Please, please know that…
"Love you too…." Emma murmured sleepily.
Monica slipped into the main living area and closed the door behind her. She was barely only a few steps away before she dropped her face into her palm and began to weep. She felt a whoosh of air and warmth precede her husband dashing across the room and then she was in his arms. She sobbed against Chandler's chest.
"I'm a horrible parent…." Monica warbled.
"Stop."
"She actually wants us to….. adopt her, and I'm just….."
Chandler drew back, wiping her tears, gripping her by the arms, which he rubbed soothingly. "What's stopping us….?"
Monica's bottom lip trembled. "I feel like we'd be usurping Rache and my brother…."
Chandler shakily exhaled, drawing his wife back into his arms. "Don't try to think of it as that, babe. Think of it like…. Em just has two moms and two dads. Her mommy and daddy died. And then…. there's us. Rachel and Ross will always be her mother and father, Mon – that's just biology. Just because we would be inheriting the title of Mom and Dad doesn't mean we would be replacing them in every way that mattered."
Monica sniffled and stared at her husband, amazed at his way with words. How they had the ability to soothe her. "I guess you're right…. but…. it isn't just that…."
"Then what?"
Monica began to cry again. "We're thinking of upending our lives! Finding a house… in the suburbs…. and if we do it, we'd have to do it now, because…."
"Because what?"
Sniffling, Monica melted into her husband's embrace. "I wasn't going to tell you until next week, when I started the next tri….." She paused. She felt Chandler still against her, hardly daring to believe it.
"Monica…..? Honey….?"
"I'm pregnant," she whispered, leaning back to peer up into his face. Watch his reaction.
It was the most wonderful mix of emotions that Monica could have ever hoped for. Chandler's eyes flooded with tears.
"Congratulations…. I love you…." he croaked, pulling her in for a deep hug and a kiss.
Monica sighed and melted back into his arms. "Even if we do adopt Emma, is she going to feel any different once she learns about the baby?"
She was surprised and heartened by how Chandler immediately shook his head. "We'll make sure we never give her reason to. She's our child, as much as this little one." He cradled his wife's belly that, while still flat, he now knew carried their baby within. "This is a happy moment…. One of the happiest moments of my life!"
Monica beamed up at him. "I love you…" she sighed, holding him close and sinking into a dizzying kiss.
It was a beautiful summer's day. Hiking over the crest of the hill, Emma held onto Chandler and Monica, holding each of their hands.
Glancing over the top of their daughter's bouncing blonde curls, Chandler and Monica shared a soft smile. They had formally adopted their biological niece just weeks after their own son, Daniel Chandler Geller-Bing, had made his loud debut. The baby boy was now asleep in a cloth sling across his mother's chest. In his free hand, Chandler carried a picnic basket.
"Daddy Chandler! Mommyca! Look! There it is!" Dropping her adoptive parents' hands, Emma pelted forward across this field just outside of their new home in Westchester County. It was just a short walk to the Geller family plot and cemetery, from the Bings' new house.
Chandler watched as, with tender care, Emma wiped some overgrown grass blades away from the headstone. He glanced to his wife. "Seems like kind of a morbid place to have a picnic…."
Monica grinned and softly slipped her hand into his, rearing up to kiss his cheek. "She wanted to…. I think it's sweet…."
"Hi, Mommy and Daddy…." Emma was murmuring to the headstone quietly. "Mind if we join you for lunch?"
Chandler and Monica shared tender looks before both set to work billowing out the picnic blanket. The blended family sat down to eat. Spotting Emma reaching for the goodies, Monica set a softly admonishing look towards her daughter.
"Emma Sandra Geller-Green: let's wait our turn till everyone's served."
Emma bowed her head in acquiescence. "Yes, Mommyca." Monica smiled warmly. She was getting used to the name more and more. She was also touched and thankful that, after talking it through with Emma, the little girl had agreed to keep the hyphenated surname her biological parents had given her. A name change, though common in most adoptions, wasn't necessarily required. The arrangement at the very least allayed some of Monica's former fears, about not wanting to replace Ross and Rachel.
Chandler poured water for himself and his girls liberally. Then he made a show of presenting Daniel with his milk, complete with nippled teat. "Cheers."
They all chinked glasses – and in Daniel's case, plastic bottle which his mother hefted for him. Then they all raised their glasses in a silent toast to the memory of two people who, though not physically here, nonetheless were never far from their hearts or minds.
In a way, enjoying this quiet picnic lunch, as a family and while gathered in the name of those dearly departed before them, was akin to touching the divine.