Closing time

Monica and Joey wordlessly compete in drinking beer, emptying the cooler before the competition concludes. Ross leans back, contentedly drunk, ready to start his new life in the morning. Phoebe doesn’t know what’s she’s going to do. She’s thinks she’s done with Joey, but she knows as soon as the bedroom door closes tonight, they’re going to fuck.

Chandler and Rachel come out of the house looking like they lost their virginity on prom night, holding hands, shy nervous smiles. He wears only shorts, his bare torso exposed to the night wind. She’s in tiny flannel shorts, a cutoff Camp shirt from Chandler that’s nearly old enough to drink. They look like a sweet couple.

Monica’s eyes narrow. She’s seen that look on Chandler. Not recently. But it’s the look he gave after fucking her three times across a hotel room in a single night. He looks content and happy. Hand-in-hand with a woman who looks like a model. A woman who sells nude pics for money.

She directed her husband over. He listened like always. Sat in her lap. Rachel sat across the fire near Ross. She couldn’t take her eyes from Chandler. She asks, “Have you been having fun tonight?”

“Lots,” Chandler says. A man of few words but many hidden thoughts, mostly about other women’s tits.

“Did you enjoy my husband?”

Rachel smiled, flaunting her perfect white teeth, “Thoroughly. Did Ross stay hard for you?”

Ross answered, “Oh yeah. I came so fast. It was a little embarrassing.”

Monica gave a wink. Just a friendly competition between wives. Rachel and Ross were getting divorced. Monica was not never the same fate happen to her marriage. Chandler could have fun with the skinny enhanced saltine cracker of a woman, but she was going home with her. Raising their kids with her.

Chandler must have felt her tension, her aggression. A hand placed on her thigh squeezes, “Relax babe.”

She could smell pussy on his breath. Instinctively she said, “Eww you need to brush your teeth.”

She could see how it hurt him. How he shut down. Took his hand off her laugh. Just one comment from his wife zapped all the confidence he had gained that night.

Rachel couldn’t hear what Monica said but she could see his body deflate. His broad shoulders sag. His eyes look down.

It saddened her. Reminded her too much of her and Ross. She wanted to help, but she knew Chandler had to stand up for himself, and make his own decisions.

Joey yawns, “Unless Ross wants to deepthroat my cock again. I’m going to bed.”

He nods to his wife, “C’mon. That was funny. Come to bed with me.”

Phoebe doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t move.

Joey is smart enough to realize his wife is upset, “What’s wrong.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then come to bed.”

“No. I’m tired of being your wife. I’m tired of cleaning up every mess you’ve ever made. I’m not doing it anymore.”

Joey wobbles like a tranquillized rhino. His eyes search for her, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” the little woman ignores him, stares at the fire like it might give her the answer.

“What do you need?” He asks.

“I need you to think about other people before you act. Like think about what your wife will think. Ya know be fucking considerate. It’s not asking a lot.”

She tosses a stick to into the fire, “It’s my fault. I don’t think I can be happy if I’m not fixing something. I’m a firefighter who married a pyromaniac.”

“Then stop fixing shit. Stop handing me the match. You could’ve just sat at the fire and enjoyed the company. You didn’t have to encourage us to get drunk and naked.” Joey isn’t his wife skirt responsibly. He’s pointing that mirror back at her. “You can’t just do shit because you’re afraid you’ll get bored.”

She rolls her eyes.

“If I’m being an asshole, tell me. I’ll stop. I thought you loved me. Turns out you stay silent and resent all the shit I do. That’s on you not me.”

“Then the night will be filled with me calling you and asshole.”

“Then I’ll listen to you calling me an asshole.”

Phoebe stretches her neck, stares up at the sky. She can’t believe she’s having this conversation in front of four other people. She quietly asks, hoping they won’t hear, “What if I leave?”

“I guess I’d have to live with it.”

Simple as that. The big man stumbles off to the house. He knows his actions have consequences. He just doesn’t seem to care. Even when it comes to his wife of eight years. The mother of his daughter. If she wants to leave, that’s her decision.

Maybe when he wakes up hungover and alone, he’ll actually learn a lesson.

Ross tries to act like that did not just happen, he kisses Rachel on the cheek. “Goodnight babe. I’ll sleep on the couch in case you want to have visitors.” He looks at Chandler and winks, giving an approving smile.

Chandler is left around the fire with three women. One who wants him, one who doesn’t want to let him go, and one who wants any options other than the one she’s stuck with.

To keep the night going, to think about anything other than the choice she has to make, Phoebe asks, “So Chandler, do you think you can handle three women at once?”