Chapter 1: Farewell, My TV Love

It was a crisp, fall afternoon in Malibu – the kind with an autumnal chill that made one breathe in air a little more deeply, if only to let the lungs savor the fresh coolness of its oxygen.

Courteney Cox padded through her stately mansion – a house that millions upon millions of residuals from a long-ago, beloved TV show had helped to pay for – cup of cool tea in hand. The house was still, except for her and her prized dogs. Sometimes, she liked that feeling of solitude – no daughter talking a mile a minute. No partner to love up on. But on this particular Saturday afternoon in late October 2023, Courteney found that she was missing her family. Coco was away at college. Johnny was spending his half of the year in London, touring.

Gazing out at her million-dollar view of the ocean, Courteney briefly considered calling one of her Friends.

The capital letter on the word, when thought in her mind, was more than intentional. It was how she had come to refer to them in the collective. The Friends: those five mad, impossible, perfect weirdoes whom she loved.

Her best girls always quickly came to mind: Lisa Kudrow, always game for a cappuccino and a sage listening ear. Jenny, her best friend in the whole wide world and godmother of her child, who even in middle age had never lost her taste for girl talk and idle gossip. Lock them in a room together and they could chitter for hours.

As for the boys, Courteney hadn't seen either Schwimmer or LeBlanc in quite some time. She heard from them occasionally on the Friends text thread. But they were probably busy – job contracts to book and negotiate. Daughters of their own to raise.

A smile came across her face, fond and unbidden, as her thoughts drifted to the sixth, perhaps most essential member of their crew. Their cast that had practically penned the term 'Squad Goals' before squad goals were even a thing. Matthew. Her Matty, who by all accounts was the happiest anyone had ever seen him. Sober for nearly two years now, a personal best that he seemed determined to extend. His memoir, released nearly a year ago, had been a smash hit, rocketing to the top of the New York Times best-seller list and staying there. Courteney had a personally inscribed copy; she'd already read it several times.

She'd text him, she decided. Whenever she had floated the idea for a cup of coffee, he never said No to her. Opening her phone with one hand, tabbing out of her Instagram and scrolling to find her personal text thread with the man, she groped with the other hand for the television roommate and flicked on her flat-screen absently.

"BREAKING NEWS: we are receiving confirming reports that Matthew Perry…. who graced all our screens as the beloved Chandler Bing…. has been found dead by paramedics and LAPD..."

The world stopped turning.

Courteney's ears were ringing. She couldn't hear anything. She could barely get her eyes to focus around where dark spots had now popped up and were dancing along her vision, making the image on her TV swim – the image of her onscreen husband, her beloved friend, that piece of her soul that she hadn't known was missing and had only recognized when their paths had crossed.

Her ears were ringing, such that sound had very little meaning and wasn't quite registering the same, but she still thought she heard herself scream. The anguished cry was like none she had ever heard uttered, and yet she recognized it.

It was the wail of a woman who had lost a love – one so fulfilling, rewarding and all-encompassing that it couldn't have a label put on it delineating precisely what kind of love it was. Only that it was love, and that it had suddenly been ripped away, without warning.

He was gone. It had finally happened. Her worst nightmare come to life, the nightmare that had made Jennifer Aniston, once upon a time, come apart at the drop of a hat in an interview with Diane Sawyer, around the time that Friends was ending.

It couldn't have happened. It should not have happened. Not now, when he was well…. but it had.

The ringing in Courteney's ears abruptly ceased, so she could finally hear again: hear the news anchor droning on. Hear how she, Courteney, was still screaming.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" She had at some point collapsed to her knees without fully realizing that she had done so. She was weeping uncontrollably, clapping a hand to her mouth to hold in the wracking sobs that were now overtaking her body. "Please…. please God, no….." Images of Matthew on the TV screen, looking so vibrant and handsome, assaulted her. Blips of memory flashing across her brain joined in the pile-on: Matthew, and his tousled grin that could warm her faster than the sun. Matty, as Chandler Bing, kissing her again and again and again: in the apartment, on the Central Perk orange couch, in a chapel while she stood before him in a wedding dress…. Matthew, emaciated and old, looking so old and so sick, hooked up to fifty different machines at once while languishing at death's door.

Her living room felt as though it was spinning. Courteney had to crawl to find something to grab onto, in the midst of this tempest that had tossed her out to sea. Now she knew what people meant by the word 'unmoored'….

Have mercy…. Was this what it felt like to lose a spouse to death? She knew what it felt like to lose a spouse to divorce, and there was a time when she would have thought that was worse.

No: this was worse. A man she loved, ripped from the world so cruelly and during his moment of triumph.

Her hand felt like it was buzzing, and it belatedly dawned on her that this was because her phone was blowing up.

Bedlam on the Friends text thread, with bubbles coming in faster than she could read the previous one before another took its place. The letters uncoupled themselves from words and scrambled together, though from what little Courteney could read, the words themselves made not much more sense anyway. It was a digital trail of grief, showing everyone coming unglued, in real time.

Incoming CALL. She didn't read the name before she was swiping right. But when she held the phone to her ear, Courteney Cox couldn't speak. All that came out of her was weeping.

"Mom?... MOM?!..." Coco's voice pitched in panicked, disturbed concern on the other end of the line. "OK. Um – Mom? Just stay where you are, OK? I'm coming! I'm coming back home!"

The phone slipped from Courteney's hand. She wanted to order her daughter to stay where she was, at college, but no sound came out. Still on her knees, keening, tears streaming like rivulets down her cheeks, the woman who had once played Monica Geller suddenly clasped her hands tight and began to pray. Fervently pray. Pray for her dead onscreen husband. She prayed to her parents, both long gone, pleading with them to take care of him, in whatever awaited mortals in the next life.

In his book, Matty had recounted once encountering God, at a moment of deep despair – and in his kitchen, of all places. If such a being existed, Courteney couldn't feel Him now – not in her kitchen, her living room, or anywhere else. Not now. Would God, as she imagined Him, take away so heartlessly a man who had battled so many demons to claim even just a scintilla of happiness? That He had taken such a man away, and after barely eighteen months of sobriety, seemed no less than cruel.

Worse still, in her heart of hearts…. something spiritual stirred in Courteney telling her that, much as she couldn't feel Him, she also couldn't feel him. Her Matty. Her Chandler. Her tortured prince. Her soulmate – one of several in this life. Her friend.

It was all too true. He was gone. He had slipped the surly bonds of this Earth to touch the face of God.

Coco arrived home later that night. She'd found her mother asleep in her bed, the curtains drawn and plunging the master bedroom into darkness, as if mere fabric alone could keep at bay the outside world turned upside down. The only light in the room had been from the flatscreen TV, playing wall-to-wall coverage of the death of Matthew Perry, on mute. The college freshman had briefly debated turning off the hideous media frenzy, then decided against it. She softly closed the door behind her and padded downstairs, to gather her own thoughts.

Coco had been a little girl when her mom had first introduced her to Friends, the award-winning show from before she, Coco, was born. Of course, she knew Aunt Jenny, one of her favorite people ever. Only slightly less had she known the man who had played her mother's love interest, though she had always known him as Uncle Matty.

Uncle Matty, who would stop by their house every once in a while and he and her mother would chat like old friends who'd known each other for a million years. Uncle Matty, who would bring her little treats. Uncle Matty, who sometimes had sat on the couch with Mom towering over him, lecturing him patiently about how important it was to "get clean." As a little girl, Coco had heard this phrase and wondered why Uncle Matty would be so afraid of taking a bath. Only when she was older had she learned what 'get clean' really meant. At the time, she had still been young enough to ponder whether this made Uncle Matty a bad man, since everyone said drugs were bad. And then Mom would tell her that no, no Uncle Matty was not bad, he was just very ill.

And now that illness had killed him. Coco had never before known someone who was close to her, close to her family, die. The knowledge was just as jarring as it had been while watching Friends for the first time, and seeing her mother kissing someone who wasn't her dad or Johnny. Kissing Uncle Matty, which had been weird, but at least it hadn't been as weird as seeing Mommy kissing…. the old as fuck AAG commercial guy, or that Marvel dude with looks that would make a brick wall ask for its face back. It was just acting, her mom had explained.

Well…. maybe that was so when Mommy had needed to make out with Tom Selleck (gross) and Jon Favreau (double gross). But even at a young age, Coco had gotten the distinct impression that Mommy kissing Uncle Matty hadn't entirely been acting. To act, to perform, sometimes required doing things that weren't exactly comfortable. To Coco's mind, her mom had never seemed uncomfortable when kissing Uncle Matty, up there on the screen. Ergo, had she been acting then, too?

These were disconcerting questions that were far too big for her to answer by herself, even at nineteen, when young adults think they now have all the answers. Coco opened the microwave when it beeped and tiptoed up the stairs.

The master bedroom was still dark, but she sensed movement coming from the queen-sized mattress as she padded inside.

"Hey….. brought you some pizza…. in case you were hungry."

In the dim light, Courteney sat up, the flicker from the still-going TV strobing across her features. She nodded gratefully to her daughter, before turning her head and noting the images on the screen: clips of Friends, being played back over coverage of death and drugs and…..

"Turn it off." Coco quickly moved to obey, but it was too dark to see and she had to fish around for the remote while also keeping the pizza slice balanced on a paper plate. "Turn it off, TURN IT OFF!"

Coco quickly found the remote and the images of her mother's TV love interest winked out. She lunged to turn on the lights, and regretted it when her mom shrank back with a hiss at the glare.

"Sorry."

"It's OK…. It's OK…." Sighing, Courteney patted the mattress. "Come and sit with me, babe…"

Coco edged towards the bed while also trying to make it look as though she wasn't tiptoeing around her mom. There were bags under her mother's eyes, and the bloodshot tinge to them didn't help matters. How long had she cried before drifting off to an uneasy sleep? The young woman was almost afraid to ask.

Courteney tucked her daughter into her side, rubbing her arm. Kissing her temple. "Thank you for coming," she murmured. "You shouldn't have had to, but…."

"I wanted to," Coco stated. "I was in the Student Union, and suddenly, everyone's getting notifications on their phones and people were going crazy. People were crying…" She shook her head. "When I read what had happened, my first thought was to call you."

Courteney nodded dully. "I'm sorry I scared you…"

"Believe it or not, I would have been more scared if you hadn't been hyperventilating into my speaker phone…"

It unnerved Coco to see her mom's lips twist into a dazed frown. "I…. I did….?"

"That's what it sounded like."

"Oh, baby, I'm so…."

"Don't apologize. After all, he was your friend."

There was a slight silence, mother and daughter holding each other in silent companionship. "I don't know if friend is a strong enough word."

Coco lifted her head from her mother's shoulder. "…. What do you mean….?"

Courteney sighed. "You weren't there, sweetie – it was before your time. But…. those people…. That show…. Your Aunt Jenny…. By the time you came along, it was more than just friendship. We were more than just cast mates. We were a family. And Matthew…. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew….. that he was unlike any man…. I had ever met before." She grinned in a wan way that was almost helpless. Her voice shook with emotion, and she fought to tamp it down. "There was just something about him that drew people in. Dazzling. Dangerous. And eventually, I realized…. it was because he was more than just a man – he was a genius!" She held Coco in her stare. "Genius."

FLASHBACK: Summer 1994

Courteney Cox took in the sight of the Hollywood soundstage that had been made up to look like an uptown Manhattan apartment. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress, in a manner that suggested that she had woken up like this: dolled up. Gussied.

She had been cast in what the studio executives were convinced was going to be the hottest ticket in town of the upcoming 1994 pilot season. After her first reading, Courteney had to agree:

The script for what had been billed as Friends Like Us was slick. Polished. Clever. Authentic. The writers had made the jokes and gags practically rain down like manna from heaven. She had originally been offered the part of Rachel Green, but Courteney had found herself gravitating towards the neurotic, obsessive chef, Monica Geller. She had auditioned, as had everyone and his brother in Hollywood, then gotten called back for a screen test. Then called back again – a couple of chemistry reads. She had been ecstatic when she'd gotten the call from her agent to tell her the part was hers.

Now, she was going to be meeting all of her castmates for the very first time. The producers – Kevin Bright, David Crane and Marta Kaufman – had informed her through her agent that, after a long and exhaustive search, the sixth and final missing cast member had just been obtained, for the role of the sardonic Chandler Bing. From what little she knew, the search for the perfect actor for that role had been far from easy. She wondered who was the lucky bastard who had gotten it. Wowed the executives.

Jennifer Aniston, the girl who had ultimately been cast in the part that NBC had originally wanted Courteney for, was nice and bubbly, and within ten minutes of meeting, Courteney felt as if they had known each other forever. She had heard of David Schwimmer in passing within the industry, not the least because the role of Ross had apparently been written with him in mind. Courteney found it was just as well that he would be playing her brother: David's was a passable enough face to look at, but he wasn't her type of handsome.

Matt LeBlanc had handsome movie star looks – in a my-molars-are-always-this-shiny-from-flossing kind of way that might still slay some women in the aisles, but that, at the turn of the millennium, seemed… corny, to Courteney. Although the scuttlebutt in the studio was that Monica and Matt's role of Joey Tribbiani were being looked at as a possible romantic pairing further down the line. Great.

And Lisa Kudrow…. Well, Courteney was delightfully baffled by the force of nature that was Lisa Kudrow, who was currently wowing audiences in a small part in Mad About You. Apparently, she was now going to be playing the twin sister of her role on that show. Clever. Clever, indeed…..

The door to the apartment set now opened, and Courteney turned. The newcomer lifted his head, and their eyes met.

Here was one of the handsomest men Courteney had ever seen.

It was an understated handsomeness, nothing contrived about it in the same way as a, say, Matt LeBlanc. This young man clearly was one of those handsome-and-he-doesn't-even-know-it types, at first glance. The youth gave her a tousled, bemused smile, and Courteney suddenly felt like an acid hook was digging into her stomach.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm in the right room. This is apparently where all the cool people hang out."

This startled a laugh out of Courteney. In that moment, she knew: this was him. The one who had cracked the code of that elusive Chandler Bing.

"You're in the right place, Perry!" one of the first assistants called out. "Take your seat; script's over there!"

The youth – this Perry – nodded and puttered in an awkward fashion over to the apartment kitchen table, where the first reading was to be held, then they'd start rehearsal.

Courteney felt herself drawn to him, and she sidled up to the newcomer. "Congratulations…." She greeted him with a friendly smile. "Everyone's so relieved that you're here…."

The young man sent her a self-deprecating look. "I think they're just relieved to have cast someone. They probably would have cast a cadaver if they were desperate enough."

She giggled, and his grin broadened, pleased that someone had gotten the joke.

"And hey, if anyone's relieved, it's me – I almost didn't get this job cause I was tied down to a hot mess that had me wearing Back to the Future costume department knock-offs while standing around in LAX, 200 years from now."

Courteney chuckled. "Sounds like it's just as well. This script has a much better premise."

He snorted. "Ain't that the truth!"

Biting her lip shyly, she held out her hand. "Courteney Cox."

"Matthew…. Matthew Perry." They shook hands, and they both felt the jolt of electricity pass between their palms. "Whoops! Sorry. I usually shock people in more inappropriate ways!"

Courteney laughed brightly. "I think you're more normal than you think you are."

Matthew sent her a look that was both mesmerizing and mysterious. There was a tight strain to his chuckle. "Really? Well, you'd be the first – and wrong…. But thank you." A beat, and then he shook his head to clear it. His eyes made a sweep of her sundress. "So….. you're Springsteen's girl."

Courteney ducked her head to hide her blush, along with the bashful, Aw-shucks grin that would eventually define her role as Monica. "I wouldn't say I was his girl…"

"He picked you out of a crowd to dance with him, didn't he?" Matthew cocked his head and studied her, giving him the appearance of a curious puppy. "You wore your hair shorter then."

The flush to her cheeks now deepened. "I thought it would help me book jobs."

"It also made all the lesbians think you were single and available!" Lisa passingly quipped, in a deadpan so irreverent that it would come to define her in the role of Phoebe Buffay. Matthew's lips upturned into an astonished and impressed grin.

"Bitch just stole my line…. Oh, I like her! That's my kind of gal!" Courteney felt an odd spasm go through her at this statement. She compensated by grinning and taking his hand.

"Come on. Come meet everyone!" Bemused, he let her lead him with purpose onto the set.

Later, Matthew found himself enchanted by her. It was difficult to take his eyes off of her – off any of the girls, really, including Jennifer Aniston, but especially her. Courteney Cox. She was cripplingly beautiful. She practically taught the spotlights to burn bright!

It unnerved him to realize that anyone noticed. "You do know she's dating Batman, right?"

Of course she was. Girls like her were always taken – including by his favorite superhero, apparently. But that's what Matthew thought. What he said was: "Seriously? Dude, that's wild!" (In later years, the phrase 'dating' would mercifully become past tense and Matthew would always throw in a line asking to clarify which Batman). Now, however, he waited a beat before asking, horrified, "Wait: she's dating Adam West?!"

David Schwimmer's expression collapsed into an annoyance that, if he were a woman, Matthew would have called his resting-bitch face. "The other Batman!"

"Oh." Another pause. "Hold up: how the fuck did Michael 'I-Have-a-Face-like-a-Beaver' Keaton get into her bed?!"

"Ssssh!" David hissed. "Jesus, say it a little louder, why don't you?..."

Courteney's head turned at the frantic hissing, though she didn't catch what Schwimmer had said, or what Matthew had said to make the other man hiss like that, for that matter. Her eyes met Matthew, and he gave her a cheesy grin and an exaggerated thumb's up.

She giggled. She was scarcely 30 years old, on the precipice of mind-boggling fame, and yet just by looking at this adorable, awkward man, Courteney already knew: her life would never be the same again….

END OF FLASHBACK

Coco stared at her mother, almost gaping.

"Wait, wait, wait: you fell in love with a genius? Like…. like Einstein?"

"No."

"Oh. Like Robin Williams, then."

"Nooooo…." Courteney tossed her head with a chuckle. There was a brief silence. "And hang on a minute, young lady: I never said I fell in love with him!"

"You didn't have to," Coco smirked. "It's written all over your face!" Courteney's jaw dropped, her face turning very, very red.

"It wasn't like that, baby."

Coco shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mom."

"It wasn't!" Courteney insisted, perhaps a bit too much. They were quiet for a time. The silence was finally broken by Courteney, lost in the early hours of grief, trying and failing to hold in a strangled, bitter sob.

"…. Mom…..?"

"What is it, honey?"

"Did Uncle Matty – that is, did he and….?" Coco wasn't sure whether to turn red or wince. She wasn't even sure whether she wanted to know the answer to what she was burning to ask. "Did you ever sleep with him?"

Courteney looked at her daughter for a moment. Then she shook her head. "No, sweetheart…."

"Oh." An awkward pause. "…. Why not?"

"Because we both would have gotten our asses fired from the number one show in America, that's why not!" It was true: Crane, Kaufmann and the production team had made all six of them sign a contract, which, among other things, had stipulated that none of them could date each other. While it had seemed a little extreme, Big Brother-ish at the time, Courteney had understood the producers' reasoning. It came back to what she had termed the Nia Vardalos Rule, after seeing her interviewed on a talk show once. The My Big, Fat Greek Wedding author and star had stipulated that the quickest way to kill off any chemistry between two actors was if those actors actually did it in real life. Courteney supposed that was one way for a woman to restrain herself from jumping John Corbett, but whatever floats one's boat.

"Do you want me to stay here tonight?" Coco queried. "Cause I can!" It was Saturday, after all.

Courteney smiled wetly. "I'd like that…." Then mother and daughter burrowed under the covers, snuggling up as if the daughter was five or six years old again, the two of them against the world.

A world that had, in some essential way, been reshaped by the new absence of one of its children. October 28th would never mean the same again. The world – a world without Matthew Perry – would never be the same.

As she attempted to drift off into a fitful sleep, Courteney knew: her world would never be the same….