Chapter 7: Not Ready, Not Real
Courteney drummed her fingers along the mahogany of the oak table in this conference room. She was on one of the highest floors of the NBC production offices, the faces of eight other people gathered around her. She tried to recall the last time she had been in a meeting like this, at least with this particular television broadcasting company. …. Probably close to two decades ago, soon after the show ended and the powers that be had finalized negotiations with the six of them regarding residuals, for even at that time, immediately after Friends' end, there had been an implicit understanding that the show would continue to live on long after through re-runs. It had.
She was out of practice with these sorts of dealings, regardless, at least when holding the perspective of a cast member. All of her negotiations for Cougar Town, itself more than a decade old now, she had conducted with TBS, that show's broadcast provider, and in those meetings, she had been acting as both a star and a director.
This meeting, however, was about as high stakes as you could get, if not in monetary potential, than certainly in emotional. In the famous negotiations Schwimmer had shepherded that had eventually won them a windfall of a million dollars per episode by Season 8, both monetary and emotional tensions had been high.
Now, more than twenty years later and down a man, the emotions were through the roof. The proposal that was currently being discussed wasn't about the money – though, the NBC executives, and also Friends' old directors and producers, were doing their damndest to appeal to such business instincts.
It was ironic, really. Schwimmer's shrewd move in the early 2000s had been all about extracting from NBC the kind of money that most people could only dream about, but that the cast by then felt they were more than owed, given the cultural touchstone they had brought to life. It had been met with more than a little resistance from the executives. Now, however, the NBC bigwigs were willing to throw piles of cash at the five surviving Friends, all in the interest of conjuring one big emotionally gratifying and poignant moment on nighttime TV's biggest stage, its biggest night: the Emmys.
It was January 2024. On a flat-screen television mounted on the far wall across from Courteney, cable news was splitting coverage between the upcoming awards and the Iowa Caucuses that were also to take place that same night. She scanned down the length of the table, from left to right.
David was seated with perfect, ramrod straight posture, his business-savvy persona giving him an aura of seriousness that was solemn, almost grave. At Courteney's immediate left, Jennifer was fidgeting, clearly giving off through her body language how much she didn't want to be here. Matt was trying his best to look interested, keeping a placid and neutral expression that only his eyes betrayed: by those alone, he too was leery. Lisa's opinion on the matter under consideration was even less clear, showing her hand neither one way nor the other. Careful. Calculating. There was a reason the brilliant comedienne who was once fired from Frasier had almost never lost a round of the poker matches Courteney would organize back in their filming days.
On the other side of the table, Marta Kaufmann, David Crane, Kevin Bright and their old director, Jimmy Burrows, were doing a far less admirable job in attempting to maintain neutrality.
…. It was bad enough that Courteney was out of practice with these in-person meetings. The virtual Zoom calls she would conduct with colleagues in the industry during the pandemic may have been impersonal, but at least there had also been a degree of safety behind the screens. Now, trapped in a fishbowl-like atmosphere and with pretty much no one wearing masks anymore, there was nowhere to run, never mind hide.
She wondered what Matthew would have thought of all this, if he were here. Then again, if he were here, they wouldn't be having this meeting. Even so, she could almost picture how he would be: slouching in the leatherback chair, never sitting, attempting to give off a bad boy attitude. Cocky, but not arrogant, even if for the most part, it would have been as much of a persona as David's serious business demeanor.
Burrows rose to click the CNN coverage off with the touch of a button on the remote. "Come on, guys, money is no object." His was a face now sporting a smile that was almost paternal. He had always considered these people across from him 'his kids' – most of them had been in their twenties when they were cast, except for Lisa, who had been just into her thirties, and Courteney nearly. He'd watched them go through marriages (Jennifer twice), divorces (Courteney, Matt and David all once, Jennifer also twice). No less than four births. There was a shared history with all of them that if the walls of this conference room could talk, they would have a lot to say.
"It isn't about the money," Jennifer got out, testily. Even then, she was clearly making a concerted effort not to have her voice sound too tight. She took a deep breath. "There are plenty of other good performers who have recently left us, all way too soon. Are any of their co-stars being asked to perform tributes?"
Marta Kaufmann leaned forward, her hands folding diplomatically on the table. "Well…. no. But those dearly departed souls didn't have in their co-stars people who are like you." (This seemed like a rather arrogant statement to be making, in Courteney's opinion). "Their casts aren't like you. Matthew was a part of arguably the greatest sitcom cast ever assembled on the greatest television series of all time. We need to honor that, because he was special. I think he would be touched by a tribute like this."
"No, he would hate it," Courteney countered, strong and firm, if not exactly confident. She felt bolstered in her resolve when she noted how Matt was nodding in grim agreement with her, followed by Jenny, who seemed on the verge of becoming weepy. "And if you understood the man at all, Marta, you would know that." Marta's expression flickered before rearranging itself into a corporate mask. Jimmy's smile was still genial, if now noticeably more strained.
"We can all debate Matty's feelings on the matter some other time…."
"What's there to debate, Jim?" Lisa murmured softly, presenting an aura of calm. "We all knew him, sure, but we…." and she pointed between herself, Schwimmer, LeBlanc and the girls. "… are the ones who acted opposite him. We're the ones who propped him up. I think Court speaks for all of us when we say that the five of us know what's best – for ourselves and especially for Matty."
Jennifer had now given up on maintaining any equilibrium and was wiping at her eyes quietly. "Hear, hear…." she whispered.
Jim considered this. Both Crane and Kevin were looking dismayed, and the director of arguably some of the most successful shows in American television history (Friends, Cheers, Taxi) attempted to mollify the men with a wave of his hand. "So, this doesn't have to do with compensation. I understand that. Respect it. What's this really about?" Down near the head of the table, David's face appeared tight, flabbergasted that what should have been obvious wasn't clear.
"Do we need to spell it out for you?" Jennifer's timbre had taken on a tone of pleading. "We're not ready!" Thick rivulets of moisture began to run free down her cheeks like a river breaking a logjam, and she began to sob. "It…. it hasn't even been three months!"
"Now, Jenny: I get it. Those feelings are perfectly valid…." Jimmy tried to soothe her, like a father heading off a pubescent meltdown from his daughter. "But we and the folks at NBC feel that a tribute to Matthew would serve as a poignant anchor that would give weight to the In Memoriam portion of the evening. His portrait would end the slideshow, in fact. Why don't we play for you the proposed background music?"
He pulled up a Spotify file and threw it up onto the projector screen on the farthest sidewall. The initial instrumental music was moving, but it wasn't until the first words were sung that Courteney broke down:
It was the same song that had been played at his funeral. It was their theme song. In a minor key.
"So no one told you life was gonna be this way…."
If Burrows and the other producers had thought this would have a mollifying effect on the surviving cast, it instead managed to achieve the opposite effect. Snot leaking out of his nose to mix with the salty tears, Matt rose stiffly and began to storm from the room.
"That's it!" His voice was a raspy croak. "I'm out!"
"Right behind you!" Jenny squeaked, all but lunging for the door.
"Matt! Jennifer!" Burrows and Crane were pleading to no avail. Lisa merely rose with quiet dignity and shook her head, her disappointment practically radiating over those assembled. She followed her buddies out. David's departure was more formal, as he fastened the bottom button of his suit coat.
"Marta. Gentlemen: I think we're done here." He left.
The NBC producers all turned their eyes as one to Courteney, practically begging, perhaps hoping for one approving vote. They should have known that the last place they'd find it would be from the onscreen wife of Matthew Langford Perry.
Courteney stood with poise and smoothed down the front of her dress. When she directed her words to Jimmy, she at least tried to make them come across as apologetic.
"The others are right, Jim: we're not ready."
Courteney left the NBC executive office building and got into her car, finding herself setting a course for her daughter Coco's college campus. The distance to get there from Studio City didn't bother her, nor did the fact that Coco had only been dropped back off at campus mere weeks ago: she just really needed to see her baby.
It had been a difficult thing to accept, over the last six months or so, the realization that her one and only child no longer needed her in quite the same way, to the point where Courteney had touched upon it in media interviews. She tapped out a quick text to her daughter while bombing up the Pacific Coast Highway, asking if she was opposed to Mommy needing a 'fix.'
The instant she sent the text, Courteney cringed with regret at her phraseology and how it made her thoughts shift immediately to Matty, and the struggles he had borne.
Coco happily agreed to meet with her mother at a coffeehouse on the outskirts of campus. A hole in the wall, it was no Central Perk, and the barista, while star-struck and perhaps even smitten with Courteney, was discreet and eager to please; he found a booth for mother and daughter in the back of the upstairs level.
"How was the meeting?" Coco asked. "Are you and Aunt Jenny gonna do the Emmys?"
Courteney smiled in a way that didn't show any regret. "No, honey."
"Why not….?"
"It's not the right time, babe. You have to trust me on this."
Coco nodded, only to then tilt her head curiously. "…. Will there be a right time?"
"I don't know," Courteney sighed helplessly.
"Will there ever be a right time?"
"Ahh," Courteney lifted her cappuccino in a kind of toast. "Now there's the question."
Mother and daughter sat in heavy contemplation for a moment, sipping their coffee.
"…. Mom?"
"Yes, Coco bean?"
Coco lifted her head, her expression a wince. "…. What's Matteney?..." Though from the look in her eyes, it was evident she already knew, or at least had an idea.
Courteney let out a deep breath through her nose. "…. Matteney is the… celebrity coupling of me with…. with Uncle Matty." She found herself watching her daughter's reaction carefully, but all Coco managed was a curious purse to her lips. As for Courteney herself, her own lips were caught uncertainly between whether to frown, or smile. Or cringe. Or a combination of all three.
"Fans would actually pair off real people with each other?" Now a bit of discomfort, if not exactly outright revulsion, was creeping into Coco's face. More than anything else, she seemed baffled.
Courteney chuckled. "I know it sounds a little funny, but it happens a lot more than you might think. Look at Brangelina."
"Because that marriage worked out so well," Coco muttered under her breath, quite savagely.
So did the one where he was married to your godmother, Courteney thought, with a sarcasm that would have made Matthew proud. She didn't voice this snide remark though – Jennifer didn't like to talk about her marriage to Pitt, and frankly, neither did Courteney. She wondered if Jennifer would have ever spoken to Coco about it; she doubted it.
She sighed again. "Matteney is… sort of like Mondler, but in real life. Like I said, it's more common than you might imagine. There's a real life counterpart to the pairing of Bensler…"
"Who?" Coco blinked.
"Right. I forgot. You don't watch Law and Order: SVU. Google Christopher Meloni and Mariska Hargitay; you'll get a lot of hits." Courteney wasn't sure if those two even had a portmanteau name like she and Matthew did, and frankly she didn't have the energy to look it up. Her lips twisted in thought. "Real pairings…. sometimes they can be popular. I should know: I've been linked as an essential half in two of them!" She laughed, though the sound was somewhat strained: a celebrity pairing of her with her Cougar Town love interest, Josh Hopkins, did exist, though it was not nearly as prevalent as the one linking her with Matthew. "Sometimes, they're not always right. Sometimes they're…." Her voice trailed off suddenly, unable to bear voicing what she wanted to say.
"Why do you think people wanted you and Uncle Matty together, Mom?"
Courteney sighed yet again. "Sweetie, it was chemistry! We were good at it! We had it – in spades! The best actors and actresses usually do. That doesn't mean that they…. belong together in real life or actually…" Her words petered off once more, now out of a sense that she didn't quite believe this last point to what she was saying.
"But you were happy. With him," Coco guessed. At Courteney giving her an almost startled look, her daughter smiled. "Mom: your feelings for Uncle Matty, whatever those were – are," she amended, rather boldly. "It's…. it's OK. Really." She smiled gently. "Whether it was just lost in the act of playing Chandler and Monica, or if there was…. something more there…."
"There was never something more."
"Sure there wasn't." Courteney raised an eyebrow at Coco's reply, but didn't move to call it out. In part because she herself didn't even believe her denial was true. Still, she tried to insist:
"There wasn't! There couldn't have been, because I was with your dad for most of that time….!"
"And did you love Dad? Were you happy with him?"
Courteney slumped back into the plush of the booth. "When things were good with your dad and me, honey, I was happy. I loved your dad. A part of me will always love him, because he gave me you." She reached across the table to tuck a blonde lock behind Coco's ear.
"And you love Johnny. Are you happy with him?"
Courteney sighed as she thought of her supportive, steady partner. "More than I can say."
Coco now fixed her mother with a probing stare. "You loved Uncle Matty. You wouldn't still be this cut up about his… his death if you hadn't." Courteney's eyes widened a little at this. "And if you and he were so happy while together on the show…."
"Coco, that's all it was! A show! It wasn't real!"
"Wasn't it?" Coco turned her head slightly with perceptiveness. "If Monica and Chandler were so happy, who's to say you and Uncle Matty wouldn't have been happy off-camera?"
Courteney was now almost deathly still, feeling a little shaken. This coffeehouse really had a draft. "It wouldn't have worked," she managed at last. Her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears. She felt the tears gathering, and her voice began to break. "He was…. drinking…. and… and using. He was being forced down a path I couldn't follow!"
"Just because a path is hard doesn't mean it isn't worth the journey," Coco stated wisely. At Courteney gawping at her, she grimaced sheepishly. "Philosophy class."
"We…. we had a contract!" Courteney spluttered, now all but flailing. "The six of us submitted – agreed," she quickly corrected herself. "…. to a strict no-dating pact! For the good of the show."
Coco was quiet for a moment. Then she shook her head critically. "Doesn't sound very fair to me."
"Meaning?"
"Well…. it sort would be like how the Jedi forbade having any attachments." At Courteney's eyebrow disappearing into her hairline, the younger woman flushed. "Dad and I had a Star Wars marathon watch party this weekend. Don't judge us."
Courteney chortled and shook her head.
Coco peered at her mother. "It wouldn't be fair to keep two people who love each other from each other…. would it?"
FLASHBACK: Summer 1998
"I'm still on London time! Does that count?" Chandler blasted.
Monica's expression – along with the last of her resistance – collapsed. "Oh, that counts!"
The couple rushed into each other's arms, embraced and kissed.
The moment should have been less climactic than it appeared on camera, for while this was the first time Monica and Chandler were kissing each other, by this point, Matthew and Courtney had done plenty of kissing – all innocently – when playing around on set. Courteney could state with confidence that she had kissed all the boys (though Schwimmer far less so, because semi-incest) and even both of the other girls backstage at one point or another.
Yet none of those kisses had stirred within her quite as visceral a response as this.
Matthew's lips on hers were slanting, passionate, while not domineering. He was more than willing to offer her equal power in the kiss, which was gentlemanly and to Courteney's mind astonishingly attractive. There was also a tiny bit of Matthew that seemed in awe of her as he kissed her. His tasteful restraint was appreciated, because intimacy coordinators didn't exist (at least they hadn't back then).
As a scene partner, but especially as an intimate one, Courteney felt so fortunate to have in Matthew such an ideal – kissing Tom Selleck a few seasons back hadn't been appealing, largely because he was in his 50s and also a conservative douchebag. As for Jon Favreau, he had been far too submissive, just happy to be there and unable to believe his luck that he was having a smooch planted on him by her.
But kissing Matty…. It ignited something in Courteney's blood. Prompted a stirring in her chest pervasive enough to make her shudder with pleasure in his arms. True, she could taste the slightest hint of whiskey on his breath, but that was a small price to pay. Because Holy Jesus, could the man kiss….!
Someone far, far away, Courteney dreamily thought she heard Jimmy yell, "CUT!" Neither one of them heard him. Their director had to holler it four times before she and Matthew finally broke apart.
Courteney blinked rapidly, dazed. Staring up into his piercing eyes, she watched as Matthew smirked, though his baby blues gave away a hint of nerves. "How'd I do?"
Courteney swallowed, her throat dry. "…. Fantastic," she murmured, breathless, still a little stunned. A beat, and then: "… You? I – I mean me?" She twittered out a flustered giggle.
Matthew gulped. "Very good. I…. I think I need some alone time right now…" He slipped out of the apartment, looking shell-shocked.
Left alone, waiting for the film crew to determine whether another take was in order or if that was a wrap (she startlingly found herself hoping that they'd need to take it again), a shaken Courteney staggered back to lean against Monica's fridge. Her mind spun.
This was insane! What was she doing? What was she thinking? She couldn't be entertaining these thoughts! He was her co-star! She had a fiancé, whom she was set to marry in less than a year's time!
She couldn't – she wouldn't – do anything to jeopardize her relationship with David – her David, not Schwimmer. There was a no dating pact in place among their band of six.
And besides….
"It's just acting. It's not real," Courteney whispered to herself. "He's just making out with you for the cameras and in service of the storyline; it's not real…."
At that time, how far this Chandler and Monica coupling would go, how many more kisses Courteney would have with her dear friend, was still very much in doubt. For her part, Courteney found herself fervently praying that they would take this as far as it could go.
On-camera, of course. But not off. Never off….
END OF FLASHBACK