The Early Years

Part Two: Growing Closer

By Lucy Henson, teacherchez@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Monica and Chandler had known each other for almost a month when Chandler pressed the issue of a roommate.

"So?" he asked. "Have you got any plans about a roommate yet?"

"I put a flier up," Monica replied. "Y’know, in that bar downstairs."

"Is that it?" Chandler was not impressed. "You’ve gotta do more than that if you want a roommate, Mon."

Monica paused. "I don’t really need one, I just thought it might be fun," she confessed. "But I have fun now, anyway. You’re fun," she smiled. Chandler blushed a little bit.

"Yeah, well, so are you," he admitted. "More fun than Kip," he added. Lately, Chandler and Kip hadn’t been getting on. "He’s so… so annoying. I’m glad you moved in, cos otherwise I think I’d have killed myself by now."

"Don’t even joke about that," Monica ordered, shuddering. She couldn’t imagine life without Chandler, even if she had only known him for several weeks. There was a little gap in the conversation. They didn’t need to talk all the time, though – unlike some friends, they almost knew what the other was thinking.

Monica broke the silence. “So, when am I going to meet the famous Kip?” she asked. Chandler looked down.

“Uh, never?” he replied, almost asking her approval.

“Chandler,” she complained. “Look, I want to meet him, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” he sighed. “Tomorrow, then.” Monica smiled and hugged him. “But I have to warn you – once you’ve met him, you might not like me any more.”

“Eh, why?”

“Cos everyone likes Kip more than they like me,” he muttered. “Even my mom.”

Monica stifled a laugh. “Yeah, right! I still like you, sweetie. And Kip won’t change that, cos no one can.”

* * *

The next day, Monica and Chandler met at the bar. Kip wasn’t there. “Where’s the famous Kip?” Monica queried.

“His sister in Detroit just had a baby,” Chandler explained. “He had to leave last night to go see her.”

“Oh well,” Monica said. “I get to hang out with you though, right? That’s gotta be good.” They laughed and ordered their drinks. As they were walking to their table, they spotted a homeless woman outside. She was playing the guitar, and singing a song about a cat. She had long blonde hair and looked miserable.

“She looks so young,” Chandler whispered.

“Only about our age,” Monica replied, also whispering. “I wonder how long she’s been on the streets.”

The two drank in silence, and then went to find the homeless girl. She was still sitting on the sidewalk, singing along to her guitar.

“Smelly cat, smelly cat,

What are they feeding you?

Smelly cat, smelly cat,

It’s not your fault.”

She stopped when she saw Chandler and Monica. “Hi!” she said, brightly. “Yeah, no, give me some money or I’ll give you the worst ass-kicking you’ve ever had in your lives.” Her words were so different to her tone, and Monica instantly liked her.

Chandler took out his wallet and gave her five dollars. It was risky, but he felt sorry for this girl. The only other homeless people he’d seen had all been around fifty – this girl was his own age.

“Wow, thanks!” the girl enthused, taking the money and putting it in the pocket of her guitar case. “I’m Phoebe Buffay.” She patted the guitar. “This is Gabriel.” Chandler was about to make some sarcastic comment, but Monica stopped him.

“I’m Monica and this is Chandler,” she told Phoebe. Suddenly, she wanted to do something rash. “Do you want to live in an apartment?” she asked.

“Yeah, course I do!” was the reply. “I can’t rent one though. I mean, they are not gonna let me have an apartment.”

Chandler knew what Monica was going to do. It was obvious – she was setting herself up for trouble. He tried to catch her eye, but it was too late. She was speaking.

“Do you wanna live with me?”

“Where?” Phoebe asked. “I mean, I can’t go far, cos yeah, the spirit of my mom is in the city, so yeah, no, where is it?”

“Just in this building here,” Monica pointed upwards.

“Mon…” Chandler began, but she silenced him with a glare.

“Yeah, no, sure,” Phoebe assented. She got up. “I have to use the bathroom,” she explained as she picked up the guitar and walked into the bar.

“Monica, what the hell were you doing?” Chandler exploded as soon as Phoebe was out of earshot.

“I was being nice,” she said, cheekily, almost trying to annoy him.

“Are you really that naïve? You can’t just go around asking strangers to live with you!” he continued.

“But Phoebe’s really nice,” Monica protested.

“You’ve known her for five minutes. She could be an ax-murderer, Monica. All you know about her is her name.”

“But—”

“What’re Ross and Carol gonna think? And your grandmother?” he asked angrily.

“Grandma is in California. Carol won’t really care. Ross might be a bit, well, y’know, a bit Ross,” she conceded. At this point, Phoebe arrived back from the bathroom.

“Hi! So, are we going?” she asked, happily. “Where do you live, Chandler? You two are a really cute couple, ya know.”

“We’re, uh, we’re not a couple,” Chandler explained.

“Oh.” There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Well, let’s go upstairs,” Monica said. She led the way into apartment twenty, and Phoebe looked around.

“It’s beautiful!” she cried. It was – purple-painted walls, brightly coloured sofas and cupboards, and meticulously neat, as one would expect from Monica. “Are you sure about this?” she checked.

“Yes. That’s your room in there,” Monica told Phoebe, leading her into a pink-painted room with a large old-fashioned closet, a double bed and a big dresser. Phoebe gasped.

“Are you serious? Thank you so much, Monica!”

“It’s okay,” Monica laughed. Behind her, Chandler cleared his throat.

“I would just like to say that I don’t think this is a great idea,” he told Phoebe. “I mean, we don’t know you, you don’t know us.”

“Hey, I’m psychic,” Phoebe assured him. “Everything’s gonna be fine.” As she said that, a voice was heard in the kitchen.

“Monica!”

Monica looked at Phoebe. “That’s my brother Ross.” She raised her voice. “Hey, Ross, we’re in here!” Ross appeared in the doorway.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Ross, this is my new roommate Phoebe, Phoebe, this is my brother Ross.”

“Yummy,” Phoebe observed.

“I’m married,” Ross told her.

“Oops, sorry!”

“So, where did you find her, Mon?” Ross questioned.

“She was a homeless woman,” Chandler explained. “Isn’t it dangerous, Ross?”

“What? Monica, you can’t do that!” Ross yelled. “Do you even know her?”

“Hey, it’s my life, my apartment, and I say Phoebe’s nice,” Monica defended her new friend.

“I’m psychic,” Phoebe said again. “And I know things are gonna be okay.”

“You can’t say that,” Ross told her. Monica explained that Ross was a scientist, and Phoebe nodded. The two degenerated into bickering, and Monica smiled.

“I think we’ve got a new friend,” she told Chandler, who nodded dubiously.