[ viii. the one with the tiki death punch ]

october 20th, 1994

☕☕☕

SABRINA MUNOZ WAS QUIET and content in the Central Perk coffeehouse as she lazily read through a magazine that detailed the powerful and beautiful progressions of an often-catastrophic nature.  Her dark, warm eyes were now glued to glossy pages of oceanic waves as they rushed inwards and outwards beyond the grasps of a lush island.  Sabrina had never heard of the island the magazine wrote of before but was now eagerly dying to visit its surrounding oceans. 

For as long as Sabrina could remember, she had always been obsessed with the ocean and its diving depths of drowning mysteries.  Oddly enough, despite living on both coasts of the United States throughout her twenty-four years of life, Sabrina had yet to actually stand on a beach or even see the ocean.  While it was a distant dream, Sabrina Munoz desired more than anything to watch a blinding sunset on a raging sea in her lifetime.  She wished for just a single moment in the world where she could be alone and where she could be at peace; where she could dig her bare toes into the cold, soft sand and breathe in the salty warmth that was the dying sky and the awakening sea meeting on a faraway, melting horizon.

"How does she do that?"

At the sound of Monica Geller's distinct, questioning voice, Sabrina abruptly lifted her eyes from the delicate magazine and looked over to where her friend sat in an opposing armchair.  To Sabrina's surprise, the question was not being directed at her.  Monica and Ross were instead looking at Phoebe's sleeping figure on the center couch as they softly conversed.

"I cannot sleep in a public place," Ross said quietly.  "Libraries, airplanes, movie theaters . . . none of it."

Sabrina let own her eyes drift from Monica and Ross, and then over to Phoebe Buffay's calm, stilled face.  The slumbering girl was completely oblivious to the Geller siblings as they leaned in closer to investigate, both enthralled by her unbroken peace.  The longer she stared, the more Sabrina realized she was a bit taken away herself; with her golden blonde hair and her painted soft lips, Phoebe looked like Sleeping Beauty.

Sabrina could only ever hope she looked as peaceful and pretty in her own sleep as Phoebe did right then.  Upon realizing that she likely did not appear as attractive as she wished to, the Munoz girl's lips tilted downwards, and she tossed her magazine back onto the coffee table.  "I wish I could take a nap right now," She grumbled.

"Would you look at her?" Monica sighed, practically hovering over the sleeping blonde.  "She is so peaceful."

Suddenly, Phoebe startled in her slumber and abruptly awoke; her bright eyes snapping open and sending Ross and Monica reeling back into their seats in alarm.  "What?!  What's going on?" Phoebe demanded breathlessly, struggling to regain her bearings in her grogginess.

Ross hesitantly laid a comforting hand on Phoebe's arm, calming her down.  "It's okay," He soothed. "You just nodded off again."

As Phoebe's widened eyes flickered to Sabrina's for continued comfort, the latter sent the confused girl a soft smile.  "Morning, Pheebs," She greeted.  ". . . even though it's technically four in the afternoon."

Phoebe rubbed at her eyes, but it seemingly did little to pull her from her daze.  The young girl looked exhausted, drained physically and emotionally, in ways that none of the friends could quite understand without further prodding.  Monica tilted her head in concern as she watched the girl's stiffened movements.  "What's going on with you?" She questioned.

"I got no sleep last night."

"Why?"

Phoebe pushed herself up into a straighter sitting position and exhaled a tired breath.  "My grandmother has this new boyfriend, and they're both kind of insecure in bed. Oh, and deaf," She explained.  "So, they're constantly, like, having to reassure each other that they're having a good time. You have no idea how loud they are!"

"Are they worse than a sleep-talking seven-year-old and a crying two-year-old?" Sabrina challenged darkly.  She, too, had deep circles under her tired eyes from a poorly spent night. In fact, her bags were long in the making of several missed good night's sleeps. For the past several months, little Gabriela had been going through a sleep-talking phase that ranged from quiet murmurs to entire conversations based on shouts.  And, as if that were not enough, in the next room over baby Rafa had finally been moved out of Adrienne and Cristian's room and into his own room—which he was not happy about. 

So, because of the instabilities of her niece and nephew, Sabrina had suffered and had only managed to get about two hours of sleep last night.  Adrienne constantly assured Sabrina that these were only phases—that she was hurting, too—but even as Sabrina tried not to complain, her body was screaming for rest.  She was not sure how much more she could take of this madness.

"Why don't you both stay the night with Rachel and me?" Monica offered.  "We can make a slumber party out of it."

"A girl's night on a Thursday night?" Sabrina questioned.

"Why not?" Monica shrugged.  "I'll make the Tiki Death punch."

Sabrina contemplated Monica's offer for a long moment, knocking her knees idly back and forth as she thought about the whereabouts of where her night could be going.  In her total honesty, Sabrina never truly quite knew where she might end up every evening.  Whether she liked to admit it or not, Sabrina hated going home.  She hated her apartment—which technically was not even her own apartment—with an agony that she did not like to acknowledge existed.  But it was true.  Her sister's apartment hurt her more than it ever truly healed her.

Sabrina also did not like staying at Bradley's apartment.  It was a lonely, quiet place with barely enough room for a single person, let alone two.  Sabrina also found it quite tedious to make her way over to Bradley's in the middle of the week when her school was located on the opposite side of town, especially when Bradley was rarely ever there himself.  He always worked nights, and Sabrina always worked morning.  They were like the sun and the moon, seeing each other in the brief passing of night to day.  Eclipses were their only hope at a true binding, but in their existence was only a world of shadow.  It was not a place to live.  To grow.

To grow was to live in a home that was meant for two.  And Sabrina did not dare to dream of an apartment for her own and her loved ones when it was only a cruel aspiration.  She had a better chance at flying than holding onto a dream that had not yet began to form.

So, where did that leave her?  Joey and Chandler's couch?  Or Monica and Rachel's?

(As if there was any debate there.)

"All right, I'm in.  Besides, tomorrow is a half day.  And I'll only have one drink."

"There you go," Monica mused, smiling excitedly.  "What about you, Phoebe?  Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Phoebe confirmed.  "Thanks, Mon."

Sabrina smiled gratefully at her friend.  Without Monica's constant hospitality, Sabrina would have likely found a box on the street to call home and likely would have lost her mind long ago.  In fact, all the friends would have lost their minds long ago.  In one way or another, Monica's apartment was a home for each and every one of them; it was a shower, a meal, a place to rest a head, and a place to always find a friend.

". . . Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven!  See, I told you!  Less than 100 steps from our place to here!"

At the newfound, radiantly joyful voice, Sabrina's mood instantly lifted, and she immediately turned around in her seat. Sabrina's eyes searched for her familiar Italian friend entering the coffeehouse, and she began to smile lightly at the sight of Joey and Chandler crossing over to their area.  "Glad to see you've had an eventful day, Joe," Sabrina chuckled in greeting.  "You should count the steps from my apartment next."

Joey smirked.  Always a smirk between Joey and Sabrina; always so playful and free, and enticing which each little word shared between them.  "Actually, it's—"

"And I was just saying that he had way too much free time," Chandler interrupted, clapping Joey on the shoulder.  As Chandler came to a stop behind the couch, his abruptly attention fell to the top of Ross' head and his eyes lit up.  "There's the birthday boy!" He cheered.

Joey dropped down into the cushioned chair beside Sabrina and passed Ross a small, rectangular piece of paper.  "Ross, check it out: hockey tickets!" He exclaimed loudly.  "Rangers-Penguins, tonight at the Garden, and we're taking you.  Happy birthday, pal!"

"We love you, man," Chandler said.  At the same time, Joey instantly leaned forward in his seat and pressed a sloppy kiss to Ross' cheek.

Ross was laughing at the boys' silly gestures as he stared down at the hockey tickets, but his eyes otherwise held a darkness that lingered quietly in his tone.  "That's funny," He commented dryly.  "My birthday was ten months ago."

"And it'll be back around in two more months," Chandler pointed out.

"Yeah," Joey agreed, frowning.  "So, what's the big deal?"

"So," Ross drawled. "I'm guessing you had an extra ticket and couldn't decide which one of you got to bring a date?"

Chandler's face dropped at the accusation.  A true accusation, but a blow, nonetheless.  "Well, aren't we Mr. The-Glass-Is-Half-Empty," He scoffed.

Ross turned to give Joey the hockey tickets back, but upon a second glance at one of the tiny tickets, his jaw dropped.  "Oh, my God!" He cried, bringing the ticket close to his face to examine it.  "Is today the twentieth?" He demanded.  "October twentieth?"

"Yes, it is.  Thursday, October twentieth," Sabrina confirmed cheekily, completely unsuspecting of how important this day truly was to her older male friend.  "Wow.  I actually know the day and the date for once," She chuckled to herself.

Ross merely rolled his eyes at Sabrina's childish tone and glanced over to his younger sister worriedly.  Monica was already looking back at him, her face softened and sympathetic, as she, too, had been dreading this date.  "I was hoping you wouldn't remember," She murmured tightly.

Joey watched with concern as Ross let out a quiet moan and buried his face into his hands, completely dropping the hockey tickets to his lap.  "What's wrong with the twentieth?" He questioned.

"Eleven days before Halloween . . ." Chandler guessed.  "All the good costumes are gone?"

Ross lifted his head back up, but his eyes still held a faraway look.  As if he were in a world that he both dreamed and loathed to ever go back to.  "Today's the day Carol and I first . . ." He momentarily trailed off, struggling to voice the painful words.  ". . . consummated our physical relationship."

Joey's brows were furrowed with confusion.  "You what?"

"Sex, Joe," Sabrina answered quietly, reaching across the small table to pat his arm soothingly.  His hand instinctively rested atop her smaller one, warm and encompassing as he took in her every word like a dry sponge to a bucket of water.  "That means sex."

While Joey nodded in understanding, never saying a word in response to her, Sabrina could still barely contain the soft laugh that threatened to bubble from her lips at the playful glint that sparkled in the depths Joey Tribbiani's chocolate brown eyes.  At any mention of sex, Joey was then forever lost to the remainder conversation, and it was very hard to pull him back from the desires of his own very erotic, very Joey imagination.

"You know what," Ross finally spoke, pulling Sabrina from her thoughts of the flirty Italian beside her.  "I'd better pass on the game.  I think I'm just going to go home and think about my ex-wife and her lesbian lover."

"To hell with hockey, let's all do that!" Joey cheered giddily.

Ross abruptly stood up to leave, no longer wanting to hear any of Joey's nonsense, but Chandler then quickly side-stepped in front of the taller man, blocking him from the coffeehouse's only exit.  "Come on, Ross!" Chandler pleaded.  "You, me, Joey, ice!  Guys' night out!  Come on!"  He began to playfully punch his friend in the stomach and hopped lightly on the tips of his toes, dancing and urging further excitement.  "What do you say, big guy?  Huh?  Huh?"

Ross was not amused.  "What are you doing?" He demanded.

Chandler then immediately let his hands drop and stepped back.  "I have no idea," He admitted.

"Being a macho idiot," Sabrina muttered, earning a quiet chuckle from Phoebe.  What Sabrina did not see was the steely glare Chandler was now sending to the back of her dark, knotted-haired head as his hands rose towards her exposed neck, pretending to strangle her.  Monica did not say a single word to either of her two idiotic friends, and merely rolled her eyes at the entire sequence before stooping to take another sip of her coffee.

A moment later Joey hastily stood up and stepped around Sabrina, all the while softly and warmly pinching her bicep as he went to approach Ross.  It was a mindless tick—neither Joey nor Sabrina thinking anything of it—but the other friends' eyes immediately went to the now ruffled fabric of Sabrina's sweater sleeve.  "Come on, Ross," Joey begged, waving the hockey tickets around.  "You don't know what you're missing."

Ross looked to the ground and pursed his lips, contemplating.  Like Sabrina, he did not want to be home alone in a house that was made for anything but comfort.  "Alright . . . alright, maybe the game will take my mind off it," He decided cautiously. "Do you promise to buy me a big thumb finger?"

Chandler eagerly nodded his head and clapped Ross warmly on the shoulder.  "You've got it!"  He promised.

Just then, the group of six friends heard a loud shout from the back of the coffeehouse, and all turned to the sudden sight of Rachel Green dashing over to them in an excited haste.  Her eyes were alit with joy as she dramatically waved a small, white envelope around.  "Look, look, look, look!  My first paycheck!" She exclaimed as she dropped down onto the couch beside Phoebe.  "Look at the window!  There's my name! Hi, me!"

Sabrina grinned happily at her excited, innocent friend.  She knew all about the overwhelming joy of finally receiving a paycheck.  "Aw, this is so exciting, Rach!" She cooed.  "Open it, open it! Go on!"

"I remember the day I got my first paycheck," Phoebe recounted absentmindedly.  "There was a cave-in in one of the mines, and eight people were killed."

Monica's eyes widened with surprise.  "Wow, you worked in a mine?"

"No, I worked in a Dairy Queen.  Why?"

Sabrina's face dropped with disbelief.  "Um . . . I think I'm going to need to hear more of this backstory, Pheebs," She said carefully, her words breaking up in odd places as she stared at her friend. "I mean . . . eight people?  In . . . In a Dairy Queen?"

"Eight that they knew of."

"Oh, my God!"

Phoebe merely winked and relaxed further into her seat as if the seven of the friends were not just about to dive headlong into the discussion of a long-forgotten string of murders.  While Monica leaned far back into her chair and shook her head, Sabrina hastily averted her eyes upward, now finding the bland ceiling of the coffeehouse remarkably interesting.  Elsewhere, Rachel awkwardly cleared her throat and loudly tore open her paycheck envelope.  "Anyways . . . Isn't this exciting?  I earned this," She gushed. "I wiped tables for it.  I steamed milk for it.  And it was totally—" Rachel suddenly cut herself off as she examined the check with a sharp frown—"not worth it."  She whipped her head up in alarm.  "Who's FICA? Why's he getting all my money?"

"FICA is a real bastard," Sabrina grumbled.  Once more, Sabrina could deeply relate to Rachel's reaction.  Because while she, too, loved the feeling of paycheck, she also absolutely despised knowing that not all that was supposed to be on the paycheck belonged entirely to her.

"I can't believe this," Rachel moaned.  "Chandler, look at this."

Chandler took the paycheck from Rachel and glanced down at the minuscule numbers before looking back to the upset girl.  "Oh, this is not that bad," He reassured.

Joey sneaked a peek at the paycheck from over Chandler's shoulder, but his expression held neither worry nor relief.  "You're fine," He insisted.  "Yeah, this is fine for a first job.  You can totally live on this."

"Let me see." Sabrina held her hand and Joey instantly handed the paycheck to her to examine.  Unfortunately, unlike Joey, Sabrina was no actor and her eyes widened in horror on the small amount that had been written on the check.  Rachel promptly let out a whine at her friend's truthful, painful reaction, and before Sabrina could even dare to attempt correcting herself, she was instead reaching for her wallet.  "Here's my money, by the way," Sabrina said, holding several green bills out to her new, waitress friend.

Rachel frowned.  "But . . . But you didn't order a coffee," She pointed out quietly.  Nonetheless that still did not stop her from taking Sabrina's money.

"But I will," Sabrina argued, returning her wallet to her purse.  "Eventually."

Upon seeing the paycheck next, Phoebe then quickly piped in.  "And I will, too!"

"Me, too!" Joey added.

"Oh, and here's an extra tip to the coffee I had earlier," Monica offered.  "It was just that amazing."

"Great service, by the way," Ross encouraged.

Chandler blinked, not bothering for an excuse when the truth was seeping from every crack in every lie that they told.  "Just take my money."

After all six of the friends had supplied the struggling Manhattan waitress with more than enough generous tips, Rachel Green was left speechless.  Sabrina silently watched the rich girl's expression, seeing the tears of gratitude quietly fill her eyes that she then hastily tried to hide.  Sabrina was almost certain that Rachel had never seen such serene acts of kindness in all of her life.  Now that Rachel was without an income, she was quickly realizing how uneasy life could be without money for rent or food.  And now, even with friends who still struggled to make their own ends meet, they were still reaching out to help the girl get on her feet.  Rachel was awestruck.  And for that, Sabrina did not regret it.  Sure, she could have needed that money for a midnight snack this weekend, or she could have put that towards her own rent, or to her savings—

Sabrina abruptly scoffed to herself.

(Who was she kidding?  Sabrina did not have enough money for savings.  Not that it scared her, living paycheck to paycheck.  Sabrina was still alive, was she not?)

And regardless of any misfortune that could still very easily arise in the future, Sabrina was more than happy to help Rachel get to her feet.  It was a scary world out there and sometimes a single friend made all the difference in one finding the light or the dark of life.  And now, Sabrina was hopeful that maybe, one day, Rachel would be there to return the favor.

A few more minutes passed within the Central Perk in a calming wave.  With the boys now eager and boasting about the hockey game, Joey and Chandler pulled a hesitant, moping Ross from the coffeehouse and the trio abruptly vanished down the street without little more than a single goodbye to the girls.  Meanwhile, Sabrina, Monica and Phoebe lingered in their seats on the armchairs and the couch, and Sabrina's eyes wandered back to her discarded nature magazine on the coffee table.  Was it worth going back to?  Did she want to be reminded of a place she could never afford to visit?

(Sure, why not?)

Sabrina silently picked the magazine back up and moved from her armchair and over to the couch.  Also still sitting on the couch was none other than Rachel, her small hands full of the large tips of her friends.  "Well, I guess I should get back to work," She bitterly decided.  "I don't know why, though.  If this is how it's going to be every time, I might as well—"

"Rachel?!"

At the sudden calling, the four Manhattan friends quickly looked back towards the Central Perk front entrance and Sabrina's eyes locked on the gaudy sight of three unfamiliar, very much surgically altered faces standing on the threshold.  Three women stood out starkly amongst the chaos of the small, somewhat cheap business; they were all dressed in tight pencil skirts with accenting patterned blazers and sleek heels that could have pierced right through Sabrina's soft skin.  With long pearled jewelry drooping into their plunging necklines and numerous shopping bags hanging of their skinny arms, it was a question as to how the three women had wound up in a downtown coffeehouse of all places.  In fact, the three women did look rather lost.  But nonetheless, they had found who they were looking for, and it was none other than the runaway bride who should have still been standing there looking exactly like them.

"Oh, my God!" Rachel screamed in delight.

The piercing screams that followed from Rachel and the three excited young women could make Sabrina's ears bleed and she cringed inwardly to herself as she watched the rich friends reunite in the slums of Manhattan.  The four of them were a mass of expensive fabrics, strong perfume, and loose dollar bills as they collided and engulfed one another in numerous, tight embraces.

"What is that?"  Phoebe questioned, watching intently as Rachel began to converse with her high-pitched friends.

"That's us," Sabrina informed through gritted teeth. "about a couple hundred-thousand dollars richer."

Suddenly, one of the girls held out a finger to Rachel, and Sabrina could see an engagement ring glimmer in the dying sunlight from beyond the window from where she sat.  Rachel gasped and in response, the strange girls began to scream excitedly again.

Phoebe wrinkled her nose at the horrible sound.  "I don't like us."

Sabrina shook her head in agreement.  "I don't like my hair."

Once more, the four women screamed about something else that Sabrina could not hear through the shrieking and bragging.  Monica then leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice as she spoke secretly to Phoebe and Sabrina.  "I swear I've seen birds do this on Wild Kingdom," She insisted.

"Oh, my God, you're right," Sabrina gasped.  "I just read about this in my nature magazine."

As the screaming between the rich girls continued, Phoebe finally rose her arms to the sky and waved them around wildly.  "Look, look!" She cried.  "I have elbows!"

"No way!" Sabrina mocked, raising her own arms at the same time Monica did.  "Me, too!  Just look at them go!"

Sabrina bumped her elbows with Monica's and Phoebe's, all the while very aware that Rachel was now watching them with a stern glare.  Nonetheless, none of the three seemingly ignored friends dared to pay too much attention to how they were being viewed.  Finally, Rachel turned back to her rich friends once more and yelped excitedly about a newfound pregnancy.  Of course, as Sabrina predicted, more shrieks followed.

And so, to drown out the incessant, piercing wails of Rachel and her seemingly snotty friends from Upstate New York, Phoebe, Monica, and Sabrina annoyingly screamed back and banged their elbows together once more.

☕☕☕

LATER THAT EVENING, SABRINA, Phoebe, and Monica were clad in loose fitting pajamas and had gathered around the kitchen table pouring fruity, spiked drinks for one another as they sucked on silver spoons of cookie dough.  The night was just getting started as soft indie music played in the background of Monica's apartment—per Sabrina's request—and a Twister mat laid sprawled out in the living room, just waiting to be used for the drunken mishaps of the girls' that were sure to follow.

"Wow," Sabrina sighed, staring excitedly down at Monica's famous alcoholic concoction—Tiki Death punch—and boy, did it pack a punch, all right.  "How long has it been since we've had a night for just the girls?  Usually there is always a guy over here.  Or else one of us is always with a guy."

"I know," Phoebe agreed.  "This is so nice."

"Isn't it?"  Monica poured some of the blended drink into three separate cups.  "Here are your drinks, ladies," She offered.  "Drink them wisely—or not."

Sabrina eagerly took the first sip.  She had not had a taste of the Tiki Death punch since last summer when she had supposedly bonded with Monica and Ross' also drunken mother.  Upon the cold, fruity slush of a drink hitting her taste buds, Sabrina could instantly feel the sharp pang of the alcohol hitting her system and she chuckled as she swallowed it down.  "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mon?" She questioned slyly.

Monica merely grinned.  "It's girls' night, isn't it?"

"That's the spirit," Phoebe cheered, taking a large swig of her own drink.  "If one of us doesn't wake up in the bathroom, then it was just a night."

The girls chuckled giddily to one another, as if they were all just little girls having fun back in high school.  It was a nice image, a peaceful one that was not enthralled by the chaos that was adulthood.  Just then, the front door swung open and Rachel Green slowly made her way into her apartment.  She mindlessly tossed her sleek, black purse on the counter and her shoulders drooped with mindless exhaustion.  Monica Geller was the only one who seemed to brighten at the former rich girl's appearance; both Phoebe and Sabrina were still a bit bitter at the old friends that Rachel had once chosen to associate herself with.  "Hey, Rach," Monica greeted.  "How was it with your friends?"

As if on cue, Sabrina and Phoebe both began to mock the former high-pitched screams that still haunted them from the afternoon.  Rachel glowered at them from the living room.  "That's not funny," She muttered.

"It wasn't funny in the coffeehouse either," Sabrina retorted, matter-of-fact.  "I think my ears are still ringing.  Like, seriously, please do not tell me that you and your friends did that every time you saw each other—especially if you saw each other on a regular basis."

"As if that's any of your business," Rachel sneered.  "but no—no, we did not do that every time."

"Ouch," Sabrina said, feeling the bite in Rachel's bark.  She then took another sip, playfully taunting Rachel with her eyes from over the rim of her glass.  "I think you need some Tiki Death."

Rachel's expression remained dark as she put her hands on her hips and frowned in confusion.  "Some what?"

"My punch," Monica spoke from behind Sabrina.  "It's rum and—"

Monica was unable to finish her sentence before Rachel had crossed back into the kitchen and had stolen the entire blender full of blended ice, fruit, and rum from Monica's bare hands.  At the mention of alcohol, Rachel had been sold on the idea and that was that.  Tossing a lone straw into the blender, Rachel went to town on the cold punch, seemingly wanting to down the entire drink in one gulp.

"Hey, leave some more for me," Sabrina called after her retreating friend who was scampering her way back into the empty living room.

"Yeah, yeah." Rachel waved a dismissing hand.

"Anyways, Rach—we thought that since Phoebe and Brina were staying over tonight, we'd have kind of like a slumber party thing," Monica explained, already moving back into the kitchen, knowing that a second round of Tiki Death punch would be needed before the night was over.  "We've got some trashy magazines, we've got cookie dough, we've got Twister . . ." Before Monica could continue, the telephone suddenly began to ring, and she hastily went to answer it as Sabrina and Phoebe migrated their own way into the living room with their drinks.

"Ooh! And I brought Operation!" Phoebe exclaimed to Rachel.  "But, um, I lost the tweezers, so we can't operate . . . but we can prep the guy!"

"Thank God," Sabrina sighed.  "The buzzer from that game scares the shit out of me.  You're so focused, thinking that you're the only thing that's keeping this man from either life or death, and then—bam! You screw up and he's dead, and you're dead, too, because you're now in the middle of having a heart attack."

Rachel's lip quirked up at Sabrina's playful—and very true—comment, but her attention was then pulled away by the sight of Monica abruptly waving her hand.  "Hey, Rach," She called, holding the phone to her ear.  "it's the Visa card people."

"Oh, God."  Rachel hastily waved her hand back, signaling that she most definitely did not want to deal with the bank right now.  "Ask them what they want."

Monica quickly returned to telephone to her ear and her tone shifted to one of much more authority, as if she had become Rachel's assistant of sorts.  "Could you please tell me what this is in reference to?" A moment beat on in silence as Monica listened with a hint of a smile on her lips.  "Yes, hold on."  She then pulled the phone away once more and looked back over to Rachel.  "They say there's been some unusual activity on your account," She informed.

Rachel's eyes clenched shut in annoyance and she anxiously raked her hands through her hair.  "But I haven't used my card in weeks!" She whined.

"That is the unusual activity.  Look, they just want to see if you're okay."

Rachel's eyes immediately snapped back open once more and she took a large gulp her drink.  "They want to know if I'm okay?"  She huffed, beginning to pace in front of Phoebe and Sabrina.  "Okay . . . Okay, let's see. Well, the FICA guys took all my money.  Everyone I know is either getting married, or getting promoted, or getting pregnant, and I'm getting coffee!" She threw her hands up dramatically.  "And it's not even for me! So, if that sounds like I'm okay, then you can tell them I'm okay. Okay?"

"I don't think she's okay," Phoebe peeped.

Monica paused for a long moment, contemplating what to tell the waiting caller on the opposite end of the line.  Finally, she lifted the telephone back to her ear and inwardly cringed.  "Rachel has left the building, can you call back?"  She did not wait for a response, instead opting to hang up with phone without any means of a goodbye.  Meanwhile Rachel continued to aimlessly pace in the living room, now quietly rambling about the downward spiral of her own life.

"On the bright side, Rachel," Sabrina offered meekly.  Before she continued, she took a long sip of her drink, now nearly to the bottom of the glass already.  "You know me, and as far as I know I'm not pregnant.  And I'm most definitely not getting married . . . or promoted.  That last one—I kind of wish was true, but—Oh, well."

"Oh, well," Rachel mocked, slapping her own forehead with the back of her hand.  "That's the story of my life."

"Hey.  That's been the story of your life for only three weeks," Sabrina argued.  "It'll get better.  You just need to stay positive"

"Sabrina's right," Monica agreed.  "And you're not giving yourself enough credit.  You should feel great about yourself! You're doing this amazing independence thing!"

"Monica, what is so amazing?" Rachel retorted.  "I gave up, like, everything. And for what?"

Phoebe reached out with a comforting hand and motioned to Rachel to sit back down on the couch between herself and Sabrina.  "You are just like Jack," She insisted.

Sabrina frowned as Rachel sat down beside her.  "Jack from downstairs?"

"No, Jack and the Beanstalk."

"Ah," Monica sighed sarcastically.  "the other Jack."

"Yeah, right!" Phoebe nodded enthusiastically.  "See, he gave up something, but then he got those magic beans.  And then he woke up, and there was this, this big plant outside his window, full of possibilities and stuff . . ." She then motioned back to Rachel.  "And he lived in a village, and you live in the Village . . ."

Though Sabrina did not say it aloud, she did not really see the connection.  To be honest, Sabrina rarely saw the connections in Phoebe's stories, but it truly was the thought that counted.  Sometimes Sabrina wished she could be as trusting to the universe as Phoebe was.  Sure, Sabrina left a lot of her own life up to fate, but she did not necessarily believe in fate.  There were bits and pieces within one's own story that could be altered by the storyteller.  Sabrina could change her own life right then and there if she wanted to.  Maybe one day she would finally work up that courage to change the ways of the stars seemingly written above her head.

"Okay, but Pheebs, Jack gave up a cow.  I gave up an orthodontist," Rachel tried to explain, pulling Sabrina down from her thoughts.  "Okay, and I-I know—I know I didn't love him—"

"Oh, see, Jack did love the cow."

"But see, it was a plan.  You know, it was clear. It was figured out, and now everything's just kind of like . . ."

"Floopy?" Phoebe assumed.

Whereas at the same time, Sabrina suggested, "A goddamn train wreck?"

Rachel pointed to Sabrina.  "That's more like it."

"Okay, but so what?  You're not the only one.  I mean, half the time we don't know where we're going," Monica insisted softly, motioning between herself, Sabrina and Phoebe, in an attempt to make Rachel feel better.  "You've just got to figure that at some point it's all going to come together, and it's just going to be . . . un-floopy."

Rachel remained unconvinced.  Sabrina did not blame her.  The unknown was a panic that never went away.  "Okay, but Monica, what if . . . what if it doesn't come together?" She whispered.  "Come on, you guys.  Think about it.  What if we don't get magic beans?  I mean, what if all we've got are . . . beans?"

A long stretch of silence passed between the girl friends as they all sipped idly on their drinks, hoping that the alcohol might soon speak for them.  All that could be heard in the purple apartment was the soft lull of indie music.  She did not recognize the song; perhaps it was something new.  A new path, a new belonging, a new shift in the balance.  Regardless of what it may be, Sabrina could feel the music calling out to her, and the alcohol that continued to fill deeper into her veins was encouraging her to dance along to it.

(Because hell.  Sometimes, alcohol was not enough for worries.  Sometimes, a girl just needed to dance her worries away.)

As Sabrina sat there with a now empty cup of Tiki Death, seeing both Monica and Phoebe struggle for an answer that may suffice Rachel's prodding and desperate wonders, Sabrina finally stood up and offered a hand out to Rachel.  "Then we make the magic ourselves," She decided playfully.

Rachel looked at Sabrina's awaiting hand but did not take it.  "Do you really mean that, Brina?"

"No," Sabrina admitted, not missing a beat.  She shook her hand a little more, encouraging Rachel to take it.  Finally, she did.

"Oh, God," Rachel whined, allowing herself to be pulled back to her feet.

"The real world sucks, remember?"  Sabrina teased, dipping under Rachel's arm as she spun slowly.

"It does," Rachel agreed feebly, barely moving.  "And I don't love it."

Sabrina merely laughed at Rachel's comment as she allowed herself to drift deeper into the open space of the living room to dance.  Her shoulders swayed as she allowed the music to pull her body this way and that way, her arms slowly rising upwards as she closed her eyes and lulled herself into a world that was all of her own making.  A world where there were no apartments.  No money struggles.  No career.  No marriage.  No worry at all.  It was a beautiful world for Sabrina, a world that rested on brink of endless winds, swirling oceans and sunsets that never faded.

"Dance," Sabrina called out loudly, encouraging her friends to let go, too.  "People don't dance enough."

"I don't dance," Rachel insisted meekly.

"Sure, you do," Sabrina protested softly.  "We all have our own dance . . ."

And in the spaces of her own awareness, Sabrina Munoz could feel Phoebe Buffay daring to be the first to join her.  To freely twirl and spin, and safely allow herself to fall into her own peaceful abyss.  Meanwhile, Monica Geller and Rachel Green had yet to move.  They were standing on the outskirts of the living room; both more hesitant, more afraid of making fools of themselves, but there was no shame in dancing.  There was no shame in speaking a language so clearly and precisely that it could only be understood through the uniqueness and poetic of body language.

Because deep in the depths of her own spirit and heart, Sabrina Munoz believed that people did not dance nearly as much as they should. For Sabrina, dancing often brought her closer to home than any other place that she had ever known, and she was willing to argue that she was not the only one who felt as such.

"You just need to be brave enough to find it."

~~~~~~~~~~

leave it to sabrina, the one with the most messes, to be the one to unite the girls.

there wasn't a whole lot of joey content in this chapter, but that's completely okay but sabrina is more than just a love interest?  she's got a story and she's got her girl friends, and she just wants to dance and see the ocean?  will she one day be able to dance on the beach with the love of her life, joey tribbiani? we shall see about that...

god, i love writing sabrina with the girls.  i hope you all think sabrina is a strong character and flows well with the group dynamic. and that she's being able to stand on her own?

sooo what're you all thinking of sabrina so far?? i hope you all like her.. and i hope you all enjoyed the chapter! so, what are y'all thinking?? what do you hope to see from sabrina and her friends?? i'd love to hear your thoughts and what you'd like to see next! so please, leave some votes and comments because your girl would really appreciate it! thanks for reading! and i hope y'all are having a lovely day or night.

stay safe and stay well.

--B.