Author's Notes:
This is my entry into Liz's contest. It is a little different, mainly because it's not a Niles and Daphne one. This one is about Roz, and Alice too. I wanted to try something new, and I felt that Roz hasn't had much attention paid to her, either on the show or in fan fiction
This is an entirely fictional account, and I only used a few things from episodes. From "Frasier Loves Roz" I got that Roz was eighteen when her parents divorced, and I got the affair with her art instructor from "Roz and the Schnoz." Like I said before, this is a little different, but I hope everyone enjoys it, and please send feedback to dulcineah1@hotmail.com.
Oh, and I do not own the characters of Roz, Alice, Frasier, Niles, Daphne or Roz's parents. I do own the characters of William, Pam, and Marcus for what that's worth!
Roz's Story
By Dulcey
Alice asked me about her father today. I shouldn't have been so surprised, after all, she's five years old now. I knew she would start wondering sooner or later. I just wasn't prepared for sooner.
I had been lying on my sofa, watching TV when my daughter appeared in the living room. She was sleepily rubbing her eyes, and clutching her plush Mickey Mouse that Frasier had given her on her last birthday.
I smiled. "Hi, honey. Shouldn't you be in bed? You've got school tomorrow."
She shook her head, and I expected to hear a plea to stay up and watch TV with me. She looked at me with her clear brown eyes. "Mommy, where's my daddy?"
"What?" was all I could say. "Who?"
"My daddy," Alice explained. "Like Uncle Frasier is Freddie's daddy and Uncle Niles is Billy's daddy. Why doesn't he live with us?"
I didn't know what to say. For the life of me, I didn't know what to say. I gave her a speech about how some families have two parents, and some have only one, but that doesn't make them any less special. Alice stared up at me the entire time, and I could tell she was disappointed.
I wanted to call Frasier. He would know what to say. But ever since Lilith and Frederick moved in with him six months ago, he's been so hard to get a hold of. And in the few times I manage to talk to him, all he does is go on and on about how happy he is to have his family back.
Niles has been even worse than his brother. He and Daphne have been married for two years, and had a son, William, last year. They are both dear friends of mine, but sometimes they get so lovey and mushy with each other that I can't stomach being around them.
I sat staring at the TV, feeling more and more sorry for myself. All my friends were happily paired off, and me? Still painfully, obviously single. Roz loses again.
It's not like I haven't had plenty of opportunities. I've dated lots of nice guys who would have married me in an instant. But I always did something to ruin it. That's me, Roz Doyle, life's screw-up. My life's never been easy. Not even when I was a kid…
Ever since I could remember, my parents had never gotten along. They were always screaming at each other over something or other. When I was a kid, I believed that if I was perfect, if I got good grades and always kept my room neat, then maybe Mom and Dad wouldn't fight anymore.
I wasn't exactly perfect, but I tried hard. I brought home report cards full of A's and glowing comments from my teachers. I was a soloist in the seventh grade choir and pitcher for my girls softball team. Adults were always telling my parents how lucky they were to have a daughter like me.
Mom and Dad always beamed proudly whenever someone told them that. But they still fought.
By the time I was fifteen, I was sick of being the perfect daughter. No matter how wonderful I was, it didn't make any difference to my parents. Mom still worked ninety hours a week, and Dad still made snide remarks about her having a "cushy government job." Neither one seemed to notice when I made the honor role or the select choir.
But they noticed when I came home thirty minutes past my curfew. Oh boy, did they ever notice. I was bawled out and grounded for a week. And while I was sitting there listening to them yell, I realized that this was one of the only times I could ever remember them doing something together. While I didn't enjoy being lectured, it was almost comforting, seeing them agree on something. Even if that something was that I was a bad daughter.
I got yelled at a lot more in the next few years. My grades dropped from straight A's to C's and D's as my truancies climbed. I got caught smoking in the woods during lunch hour. I dropped out of choir. I lost my virginity in the back seat of Bobby Davis' car.
By my senior year, I was officially out of control. I drank, I smoked pot, I slept around. My parents were always furious with me, but I figured it was better than being ignored. And it was better that they fought with me than with each other.
When it came time to apply to college, I found my options were sorely limited. I desperately wanted to get away from home, but my grades qualified me for little more than the local community college. After numerous rejections, I was accepted to Lakeside College, about five hours away.
I liked college. My roommate, Pam, and I hit it off right away and became best friends. My classes were interesting, and for the first time in years, I became excited about learning. Best of all, college gave me the chance to start over. No one here knew that I was the State Attorney General's screwed-up daughter.
The only thing I didn't like about Lakeside was Marcus, the teaching assistant for my art class. There was nothing noticeably wrong with him, but he gave me the creeps.
"There's something weird about him, Pam," I told my roommate. "I always feel like he's undressing me with his eyes whenever he looks at me."
"Roz, I think you're getting a little paranoid," Pam replied. "He hasn't exactly done anything, has he?"
"Well, not exactly. But he's always right by me. Always gripping my wrist when I draw or finding some other reason to touch me. He isn't like that with any of the other girls."
"OK, so maybe he has a little crush on you," Pam conceded. "But he's what, twenty-seven? And you're eighteen. He's got to know that he's way older than you. He's probably just lonely and enjoys flirting with pretty college girls."
My roommate's advice made perfect sense, but it didn't make me feel any better. Marcus continued to freak me out, to the point I began skipping class to avoid him.
My art grade was falling, but I was doing well in my other classes. I figured that if I did a good job on my final project, I could easily pass the class and maybe even make the Dean's List. That would make my parents proud, especially after my dismal performance in high school.
I went home for Thanksgiving, the first time all semester. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. There was still a lot of tension in the air, but no actual arguments broke out, which was somewhat miraculous. Mom had taken the entire weekend off, something that had happened seldom or never since she was elected.
"Roz, you've done so well in college," she told me as we stuffed the turkey together. "I'm so proud of you."
I was pleased and embarrassed at the same time. My mother had seldom said that she was proud of me, and especially not in the past four years. "Thanks," I mumbled, staring at the turkey.
Dad drove me back to college on Sunday. Actually, he drove me four blocks before pulling over and tossing me the keys. "Here, Roz, might as well get some practice driving."
So I drove the five hours back to Lakeside. Dad and I didn't talk much, but I enjoyed his company all the same. When we pulled up in front of my dorm, he lifted my bags out of the trunk and hugged me fiercely. "See you at Christmas, Roz," he said. "I'm so proud to have you as my daughter."
That was the last time I ever saw my father. Two days later, my mother called to say that my father had moved out while she was at work. She didn't know where he had gone, or if he was coming back. If she didn't hear anything from him within two weeks, she would file for divorce.
A week went by, with no word from my father. I wasn't going to my classes, or studying for my finals, or doing anything at all. How could he have done that? He had "See you at Christmas." "I'm proud to have a daughter like you." But he didn't mean it. I meant nothing to him. Nothing at all.
I hadn't told anyone about my father leaving. Pam had been looking concerned, but I kept assuring her I was fine. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to think about it. It was so cold down by the lake, but I kept walking along the shore, up and down, for hours every day. The freezing wind numbed my thoughts. Froze my pain.
My art project was due in ten hours. I hadn't started yet, and didn't want to. It was worth half my grade. I sat in my room and watched the second hand on the clock tick the time away. If I didn't do it soon, I would lose my nerve.
His number was on the class syllabus. My hands were shaking as I dialed. A tear slipped down my cheek. I had been so good all semester. I'd promised myself that the bad Roz would never come back. I'd sworn that I was through with all that. Who was I kidding? This was the real me. The good little college girl was all a farce, a sick, pathetic joke.
"Hello, Marcus?" I purred. "I was wondering if you were busy tonight?"
I slept through my English final. On purpose, not by mistake. At eleven o'clock, I got up and began re-reading an old romance novel of mine from high school. It would keep my thoughts in safe territory for a few hours. I wouldn't have to think about anything I didn't want to.
I was still in my pajamas, reading on my bed a few hours when Pam came in. I'd been avoiding her for the last few days, trying to hide from her questions and concerns about me. She was my best friend, but I was afraid of what she might think if she knew about my parents.
She looked at me closely. "Roz, have you been here all day? Didn't you have a final this morning?"
I hugged my knees to my chest and stared at my feet. "I took it earlier this week."
Pam came over and sat cross-legged on my bed, facing me. She looked at me sternly. "Roz, I don't believe you. You've been avoiding me and acting weird for the last couple weeks. What's going on?"
I shook my head. "Nothing, I swear."
"Roz, look at me." She sounded stern and worried and sympathetic at the same time. "I know something's wrong and I'm not leaving until you tell me what it is."
"Or else what?" I asked defiantly.
"Or else I'll call your parents," she shot back. "They should really know about you skipping classes and failing finals."
Suddenly, I was mad. Mad at her for being so pushy, mad at Marcus for taking advantage of me when I was upset, and especially mad at that creep who called himself my father. I threw my book at the wall as hard as I could. "Fat lot of good that will do you! My mother works twenty-four hours a day, you'll be lucky if she calls you back next month! And my father, he's a really great dad, he'll be so worried. Did you know that he cares so much about me that he left without saying goodbye? I don't know why I believed all his crap, 'you're such a great daughter, Roz; I love you so much, Roz.' Well, WHERE ARE YOU NOW???"
I screamed those last five words. I didn't care what Pam thought. I didn't care if anyone heard me. And then I wasn't angry anymore. Just tired, and so, so hurt. I buried my face in my hands and began to sob.
Pam crawled over and put her arms around me. She held me as I cried for what seemed like a long, long time.
Even today, the memory hurts. I'm older and wiser, but when I think about my father, it's like I'm eighteen years old again. I wonder why he promised he'd see me at Christmas, if he never meant it?
In a way, Alice is luckier than I am. She's never had to stare up at the ceiling at night, trying not to listen as her parents fight in the next room. She hasn't had to worry that her father will leave, and then have those fears come true one day. And as long as I'm alive, she won't have to.
I'd love to get married, and maybe even have more children. But it's not just about me anymore. I have a daughter to think about, and I'll have to find someone who's willing to be a father as well as a husband.
The phone rang. "Hello? Oh hi, Rick, thanks for calling me back."
"So what can I do for you, Roz?" he asked.
"Listen, I'm going out on Saturday with a girlfriend from college who's in town," I told him. "Do you think you could watch Alice for the afternoon?"
"Wow, are you sure, I mean yes, of course!" he stuttered. "I'd love to."
Rick and I talked awhile longer, and determined that he would come over at eleven on Saturday to meet Alice before taking her to the zoo. We said goodbye, and I hung up and stared at the phone for a minute before picking it up again and dialing Frasier's number.
He picked up on the second ring. "Hello, Roz! What's new with you?"
"Well, it's kind of a long story…" He listened as I told him about Alice, and Rick coming over on Saturday. "Is that a good idea? I mean, Alice wants to know her father, and Rick really wants to be a part of her life. I'm just scared that I'm doing something wrong, and I'm going to screw up Alice's life like I've screwed up mine."
"Roz, listen to me," Frasier said sternly. "You're not screwed up. You're a beautiful, intelligent woman, a fantastic producer, and a great mother. Not to mention a dear friend of mine. And I think it's just wonderful that you're willing to let Rick be involved in your daughter's life."
"Thanks, Frasier," I said gratefully. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Café Nervosa at one?"
"Sounds good. See you then." I hung up the phone. Alice had fallen asleep on the sofa. I smiled to myself and picked her up, surprised at how heavy she was. She was growing up so fast. Before long, she wouldn't be a little girl anymore.
Alice stirred a little when I put her to bed, but didn't open her eyes. I made sure she had her Mickey Mouse in her arms and that the nightlight was on before covering her with her blanket and kissing her goodnight.
I stood there in the darkness, watching my daughter breathe and thinking how lucky I was to have her. She's so beautiful. Oh, Alice, I want to give you the world. You'll never have anything to worry about as long as I'm alive.
I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. I've screwed up a lot, and wasted plenty of opportunities. But I've done some good things too. Especially Alice. In my entire, crazy, mixed-up life, she's the one thing I've done exactly right.
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