Joey&Chandler

uncertain (2)

"I slept with Monica."

It should have hurt more than this, because up until that precise moment I had believed in what we had. I never really questioned why. But I wondered now.

He says it in a detached way that should alert my senses, but I can only concentrate on the smell of the sheets and our naked bodies. I endeavor to close my eyes and it feels like the hardest task I've ever been assigned.

"So," I say, in a voice that feels suspended above reality, "so – what does it – what does this mean?"

Chandler has obviously rehearsed methods of beating around the bush but is not expecting this. He runs his hands through his hair and I have the unbridled urge to do it myself. He finds it hard to look me in the eye.

"Hey, don't worry about it," I find myself saying in the cheeriest voice I can muster. "It's not – look, it's nothing. I'm just surprised is all, you know – it's just – we're – you're –"

He says, bluntly, "I like women."

I feel uncomfortable in my nakedness. I want to leave. I want to anywhere; anywhere but here.

There's frustration in Chandler's eyes and I know he wants to yell at me. I want to yell at him.

"I like women."

His eyes are soulful and I want to look away.

"I like women."

I want to return the sentiment, because that's what he wants.

"Joey –"

I wrap my arms around him and hold him close.

"I like women." He says it like a mantra. "I like women."

It hurts.

"I like women."

I finally comply, breathe a murmur:

"Me too."