Author's Notes:
First, thanks to everyone who previewed this for me and offered their comments and suggestions. Second, the characters don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Third, special thanks to Eve who introduced me to "Fern Hill" by Dylan Thomas, part of which is quoted at the end of this story.
Summary: Frasier contemplates his relationship with his son.
Spoilers: "Cranes Unplugged"
Feedback: Greatly appreciated, can be sent to Dulcineah1@hotmail.com
Connection
By Dulcey
Frederick and Dad were sleeping peacefully as I paced around the cabin, trying to gather my feelings into words. My earlier conversation with Frederick had been, well, nice, but something was still eating at me. It wasn't that my son had kissed a girl. It wasn't that it happened when he was only thirteen, while I had had to wait until I was almost through with high school. No, it was that my sweet little boy was practically grown up. And I had missed most of it.
It hurt me to realize that. "I don't tell you lots of things," Freddy had said. It made sense, really. I saw him two times a year, three if I could. But even though those weekends had been wonderful, it wasn't the same as being a constant presence in his life. I wondered who had been the first to take him camping. Brian, maybe, or one of Lilith's other boyfriends. A friend's father. It could have been anyone. Anyone except me.
The truth was, I didn't know my son. I, Dr. Frasier Crane, who once taught a wildly successful seminar on developmental psychology, could barely communicate with my child. How many other things had I missed out on? His first time riding a bike? His first day of school? The first time he ever heard La Traviata? I had never been close to my father when I was young; I had wanted my relationship with Frederick to be different.
Still, we had shared that moment earlier in the evening. Frederick had confided to me about an important event that he had just experienced. He trusted me enough to share this with me--that had to count for something. And despite how grown-up he seemed, Freddy was still, after all, only thirteen. Dad and I were far from close at that age, and we lived in the same house.
One thing was crystal clear to me. I wanted, and needed, to know my son better. It would be nice to have a woman in my life for longer than a few weeks, but I didn't want to repeat the mistake I'd made over and over for the last seven and a half years, and neglect what I did have for what I might have. When I think about it, Frederick is the most important thing in my life. More than anything, I want a good relationship with him.
I smiled, remembering my son's words to me as he climbed into his bunk.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Frederick?" I asked.
"Whatever happened with you and Lorna?"
I laughed. "Oh, I worshipped her from afar the entire time I was in high school. To no avail. But, would you believe I ran into her last spring, and she remembered me?"
"No kidding?" Freddy grinned at me. "What happened?"
I smiled back. "I kissed her, Freddy." He looked surprised, and from what I could tell, impressed.
My son yawned. "That's pretty cool, Dad."
I reached out and ruffled his hair a little. He didn't pull away. "Sleep tight, Freddy."
"Night, Dad," he replied. "I'm glad I'm here."
Something told me that my son and I were going to be just fine.
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.
--Dylan Thomas