Chapter 87 – The Shelf Life of Love?
The highway to JFK Airport stretched gray and monotonous outside the window, yet the car was filled with vibrant memories. Joey, riding shotgun, talked over the engine's hum, gesturing wildly, as if determined to unpack every sweet moment of the past three months with Suzanne and fill the entire car with them on this day of farewell.
"...then I took her to the set of Days of Our Lives—man, you should've seen her in that nurse costume they had lying around! It could've been custom-made for h—" Joey traced the shape in the air, face glowing with pure joy. "...and that sunset from the Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center—the whole city looked like it was made of gold..."
Bruce kept his hands on the wheel, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. Monica and Rachel flanked Suzanne in the back; the German woman listened quietly, a gentle, slightly wistful smile on her face.
"So," Rachel cut through Joey's enthusiastic monologue, characteristically blunt, "Suzanne's flying back to Germany today. Does that mean you two are... over? I mean, unless she's planning to move to New York permanently, with an entire ocean between you—" She shrugged; the implication was obvious. "Pretty much impossible, right?"
The cheerful atmosphere inside the car deflated like a popped balloon. Joey's gesturing hands froze mid-air; the animated expression on his face stalled as if someone had hit pause on a remote. He blinked. "What?"
He turned in confusion, eyes sweeping across everyone, as though only now feeling the full weight of the word goodbye.
"I..." Joey licked suddenly dry lips, voice dropping, laced with genuine disbelief. "I never... actually thought about that."
Soon Bruce pulled up outside the international departures terminal. Monica took a deep breath and pushed open her door with forced brightness. "Alright, everyone—we can't stop time! Suzanne, let's get you checked in!"
Inside the terminal, luggage carts, travelers hauling oversized suitcases, and flight announcements blended into a wall of background noise.
Monica was first to pull Suzanne into a tight hug. Her voice, muffled against Suzanne's shoulder, managed a few clumsy but heartfelt German phrases: "Danke, Schatz... Ich werde nie vergessen... deine Hilfe..." ("Thank you, sweetheart... I'll never forget... your help...").
She stepped back, eyes slightly red, and pointed to her now-longer—but perfectly styled—hair.
Suzanne understood immediately, beaming through gathering tears, and nodded emphatically. That first day in New York, those skilled hands had rescued Monica from a potential hair disaster.
Rachel stepped up next, hugged Suzanne warmly, and whispered a few heartfelt wishes into her ear.
Then Bruce moved forward. "Safe flight, Suzanne. Take care of yourself."
They all tactfully retreated several paces, giving Joey and Suzanne their space.
In front of the security checkpoint, Joey and Suzanne stood face-to-face, a small, motionless island amid the rushing stream of travelers.
She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instinctively Joey tightened his embrace, chin resting on her hair; a dark patch of moisture quickly spread across his shoulder from her silent tears.
Finally Suzanne pulled back gently, eyes glistening but forcing a brave smile. Without looking back again, she grabbed her carry-on and disappeared into the security line.
On the drive back into the city, lights began flickering on outside, orange streetlamp halos flowing across the windshield. A heavy silence settled inside the car.
Joey slumped against the rear window, forehead pressed to the glass, staring at the blurred, speeding lights with hollow eyes.
"Joey?" Monica placed a gentle hand on his rigid arm. "You doing okay, sweetie?"
Joey flinched slightly, turned toward her, tried to form an "I'm fine," but his facial muscles wouldn't cooperate. A vague sound escaped: "Uh... yeah."
Monica said softly, "Honey, we all know Suzanne was special. She was... the longest relationship you've ever had, wasn't she?"
"Really? I... didn't even realize that," Joey murmured distantly.
"Exactly, sweetie!" Monica replied gently. "One month in Germany plus three full months here—over four months total! In all the years we've known you, when have you ever stayed with one woman for even two months? This is definitely a record."
Hearing that, Joey straightened suddenly, enormous belated shock flooding through him.
His eyes widened dramatically, darting from Monica to the two in the front seats as if desperately seeking confirmation.
"Holy crap!" Joey sucked in a sharp breath, his voice pitching higher with genuine shock, warbling almost comically. "Really? Four months?... I didn't even notice! With all those other girls... it always felt like things fizzled out before any real feelings even showed up." He frowned, mentally rummaging through memories of romances that had burned out like sparklers, trying to identify a pattern. "With Suzanne... how did the time just—whoosh—fly by like that?"
"Yeah, why do you think that was?" Rachel turned to look at Joey directly. "This record-breaking relationship had to have some reason behind it, right?"
Joey was completely stumped. He opened his mouth like a student blindsided by a pop quiz, gaze bouncing between Rachel, Monica and Bruce, then finally shook his head helplessly. "I honestly don't know."
"Joey, real talk... can you actually picture yourself marrying someone?" Bruce, who had been driving in thoughtful silence, suddenly spoke up, eyes still on the road ahead. "Like, genuinely signing a marriage license, exchanging rings, the whole 'til death do us part' commitment? Growing old with the same person, watching Jeopardy together when you're both gray-haired and using a walker?"
"Marriage? Growing old? With the same person? Jeez, life is so long—that sounds practically impossible. Honestly, it already sounds kind of terrifying." Joey answered without even thinking.
"Maybe that's exactly the reason."
Joey's rambling cut off; he jerked toward Bruce. "Wait, what? The reason for what?"
"Maybe," Bruce paused, choosing his words carefully, "deep down you knew from the very beginning that this relationship had a clear expiration date."
"Expiration date?!" Joey recoiled as if stung, half-jumping from his seat and nearly hitting the roof. "Bruce! What kind of crazy talk is that? Suzanne isn't a gallon of milk!"
Monica and Rachel both turned to Bruce as well, identical bewilderment in their expressions.
"Her tourist visa, Joey." Bruce's voice remained calm and measured. "Ninety days. From the instant she stepped off the plane at JFK, that number has been counting down in some corner of your brain, ticking away like a clock. You knew that when the day arrived, she'd leave. The relationship would automatically end the moment her plane took off."
He glanced sideways at Joey in the rearview mirror. "So that panic alarm in your head—the one labeled 'forever'—never went off. The internal siren that, in every past relationship, would start blaring the instant things looked 'too serious,' the one screaming, 'Oh God! Is Joey Tribbiani actually gonna marry this woman and end up a wrinkled old man with her?'—this time it stayed completely silent."
Bruce paused deliberately, then continued. "Because you knew there was no 'forever.' Only ninety days. You were in a relationship with a clear built-in deadline—no pressure, no terrifying prospect of 'growing old together.' So you could completely relax, dive in fully, and even break your own personal record."
"But when you date New York women, there's no visa countdown looming overhead. If the relationship keeps going strong, the specter of 'till-death-do-us-part' suddenly jumps out of the shadows, waving its arms. The alarm goes off—and you bolt. Every single time."
Joey froze completely; the shock, hurt and defensive anger on his face ebbed away like a receding tide, replaced by blank, profound confusion.
Bruce's words had sliced open an emotional pattern he'd never consciously examined, exposing his core—someone genuinely terrified of "forever" who only wanted to live in the present moment.
His mouth opened, but no sound emerged; he just stared at the back of the driver's seat, as if desperately hoping to find a rebuttal—or at least a flaw in Bruce's logic.
Monica and Rachel fell silent too. Rachel studied Joey's face, then Bruce's profile, her lips parting as if to speak, but ultimately she said nothing.
Monica tightened her grip on Joey's arm, eyes full of conflicted emotions—heartache, surprise at Bruce's psychological dissection, and a look that seemed to say, "So that's what's been happening all along."
Several seconds later, Bruce spoke again, his voice soft as a drifting feather, almost talking to himself yet perfectly clear to everyone in the car: "But actually... 'a lifetime' or 'forever' sounds impossibly, terrifyingly long. Yet in the end, it's really just one day, then another day, moving forward together... and eventually you arrive there."
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