It was Mel who told him. Of all people.
Daphne was out that afternoon, picking up things for the apartment they'd just begun to share - "let me surprise you," she'd pleaded, after Niles had told her he wanted this to be her apartment as much as hers and that she should have as big a share in the decorating as she liked. In fact, he hadn't intended things to go so far as Daphne's picking out stencil patterns and knick-knacks unsupervised; but she had begged him, and he'd never been able to resist her when she begged. He'd never been able to resist her under any other circumstances, either. And so she'd gone tripping out that morning, swinging her purse jubilantly, Niles' VISA tucked safely inside her wallet. He was checking his watch nervously, wondering how much - and what - she could have accrued in the four hours she'd been gone, when his cell phone rang. Probably Daphne, he thought, pulling it out of his breast pocket.
But it wasn't. At first he couldn't tell who it was. "Niles," the voice said, sounding distant and somehow flat.
"Er -" He switched the phone from his left hand to his right. "Yes, this is Niles Crane." He waited. Silence. "Um - can I help you?"
"Niles -" sounding a little impatient - "It's me. Mel."
"Oh! Mel," he said, standing as a dart of adrenaline shot through him. "Er - I didn't get your voice, I'm sorry - you sound so distant, perhaps your connection -"
"We need to talk," she said, calmly enough, but sounding strange, somehow. Vague.
"Talk?" he said, sitting back down again. What on earth could they have to talk about? They hadn't spoken since the night of Frasier's disastrous opera board party, when Niles had finally stood up to her for Daphne's sake and she'd stormed out, with half his social circle right behind her. The few necessary communications after that night had been done through lawyers, and even those had ceased entirely months ago. What could she possibly want now? "Mel, what's going on?" he said, recovering himself slightly. "We haven't -"
"You have to listen to me," she said, talking over him again, still in that odd, flat tone.
"I'm listening. I just -"
"I had been seeing a man named Brian," she went on. "We started dating two months ago and we were becoming more serious about one another -" and what was *wrong* with her? He could have sworn she was reading off a sheet of paper. "So we had a blood test done."
Ah, yes. He remembered that. Niles had dated many neurotic women, but Mel was the first he'd encountered who'd been neurotic enough to insist that he undergo a blood test before she'd let him touch her. It was a mark of how much he'd cared for her, then, that he'd braved the needle to prove to her he was safe. In the spirit of fairness, she'd been tested as well, and they'd gone into the relationship with their minds at ease on that score.
He gradually came to realize the pause which came there was rather longer than it needed to be. And especially for this conversation, through which she'd been rattling so smoothly and monotonously. "Is something. wrong?" he prompted, less out of concern than impatience.
"Of course something's wrong!" she snapped, and by then her voice was trembling distinctly. She broke off there; he waited, more confused than ever. He could hear it when she began reading from the paper again. "The tests indicate that I am -" she stumbled here again, slightly - "HIV positive." (what?) "Apparently it takes six months to show up in the tests -" (what had she said?) "which means that this dates back to the time of our relationship. So -"
"*HIV?*" he managed finally. "Mel, what in God's name are you -"
"So I felt I should call the matter to your attention," she continued, unbelievably. "Since it seems reasonable to assume that you are - that you are the one who passed this on to me."
"*Me?*" he cried. "You're not making sense!"
"I'm making perfect sense." She had to be leaving the script behind now, but you couldn't tell from her voice. "You were tested before we began sleeping together but as I said, the virus can take up to six months to show up in bloodwork. I have been with no one since we split, and I had been alone during the six months prior to the testing we had done. I can only assume that you had not." She let the words hang in the air for a moment.
He waited, helplessly, with absolutely no idea what to say or do. His thoughts seemed to be spinning out of his control - he felt himself pinned against the wall by the centripetal force of what she'd said, as they swung gaily around him, eluding his grasp. He tried to sit down and realized he was already sitting. Cleared his throat. "Mel -"
"You will need to be tested again, but what happened seems clear," she said. She paused. "Daphne will need to be tested as well."
"*Daphne?*" He leaped up, and he probably would have taken a swing at her if she had been in the room. "Don't you dare bring Daphne into this -"
"Have you been listening to me!" she cried, and suddenly the studied wooden blandness had vanished from her voice. He shrank away from the pain he heard there. "I am not bringing Daphne into any of this! Do you think this was an easy call for me to make? Do you think I wanted to admit that I give a shit what happens to you or to her? I am telling you that I have AIDS and that you gave it to me and now Daphne has it too. And I -" She broke off, voice shaking. He stood in the middle of the room, trembling, letting the silence drag on. Finally she said "I took some Valium earlier, but it doesn't seem to be working anymore, does it? I'm going to take a few more now. Goodbye, Niles."
"No! No, wait," he said, and surprisingly, he didn't hear a click on the other end. He was sufficiently startled that he forgot what he had been about to say, if he had ever had anything to say. The silence lasted a moment longer.
Finally Mel spoke. "I thought, when you left me, that that was the worst thing you could ever do to me," she said. "I can see I was wrong." Then she hung up.
He sank back onto the sofa, pulled a pillow to his chest, and tried to focus.
Focus.
Daphne was out that afternoon, picking up things for the apartment they'd just begun to share - "let me surprise you," she'd pleaded, after Niles had told her he wanted this to be her apartment as much as hers and that she should have as big a share in the decorating as she liked. In fact, he hadn't intended things to go so far as Daphne's picking out stencil patterns and knick-knacks unsupervised; but she had begged him, and he'd never been able to resist her when she begged. He'd never been able to resist her under any other circumstances, either. And so she'd gone tripping out that morning, swinging her purse jubilantly, Niles' VISA tucked safely inside her wallet. He was checking his watch nervously, wondering how much - and what - she could have accrued in the four hours she'd been gone, when his cell phone rang. Probably Daphne, he thought, pulling it out of his breast pocket.
But it wasn't. At first he couldn't tell who it was. "Niles," the voice said, sounding distant and somehow flat.
"Er -" He switched the phone from his left hand to his right. "Yes, this is Niles Crane." He waited. Silence. "Um - can I help you?"
"Niles -" sounding a little impatient - "It's me. Mel."
"Oh! Mel," he said, standing as a dart of adrenaline shot through him. "Er - I didn't get your voice, I'm sorry - you sound so distant, perhaps your connection -"
"We need to talk," she said, calmly enough, but sounding strange, somehow. Vague.
"Talk?" he said, sitting back down again. What on earth could they have to talk about? They hadn't spoken since the night of Frasier's disastrous opera board party, when Niles had finally stood up to her for Daphne's sake and she'd stormed out, with half his social circle right behind her. The few necessary communications after that night had been done through lawyers, and even those had ceased entirely months ago. What could she possibly want now? "Mel, what's going on?" he said, recovering himself slightly. "We haven't -"
"You have to listen to me," she said, talking over him again, still in that odd, flat tone.
"I'm listening. I just -"
"I had been seeing a man named Brian," she went on. "We started dating two months ago and we were becoming more serious about one another -" and what was *wrong* with her? He could have sworn she was reading off a sheet of paper. "So we had a blood test done."
Ah, yes. He remembered that. Niles had dated many neurotic women, but Mel was the first he'd encountered who'd been neurotic enough to insist that he undergo a blood test before she'd let him touch her. It was a mark of how much he'd cared for her, then, that he'd braved the needle to prove to her he was safe. In the spirit of fairness, she'd been tested as well, and they'd gone into the relationship with their minds at ease on that score.
He gradually came to realize the pause which came there was rather longer than it needed to be. And especially for this conversation, through which she'd been rattling so smoothly and monotonously. "Is something. wrong?" he prompted, less out of concern than impatience.
"Of course something's wrong!" she snapped, and by then her voice was trembling distinctly. She broke off there; he waited, more confused than ever. He could hear it when she began reading from the paper again. "The tests indicate that I am -" she stumbled here again, slightly - "HIV positive." (what?) "Apparently it takes six months to show up in the tests -" (what had she said?) "which means that this dates back to the time of our relationship. So -"
"*HIV?*" he managed finally. "Mel, what in God's name are you -"
"So I felt I should call the matter to your attention," she continued, unbelievably. "Since it seems reasonable to assume that you are - that you are the one who passed this on to me."
"*Me?*" he cried. "You're not making sense!"
"I'm making perfect sense." She had to be leaving the script behind now, but you couldn't tell from her voice. "You were tested before we began sleeping together but as I said, the virus can take up to six months to show up in bloodwork. I have been with no one since we split, and I had been alone during the six months prior to the testing we had done. I can only assume that you had not." She let the words hang in the air for a moment.
He waited, helplessly, with absolutely no idea what to say or do. His thoughts seemed to be spinning out of his control - he felt himself pinned against the wall by the centripetal force of what she'd said, as they swung gaily around him, eluding his grasp. He tried to sit down and realized he was already sitting. Cleared his throat. "Mel -"
"You will need to be tested again, but what happened seems clear," she said. She paused. "Daphne will need to be tested as well."
"*Daphne?*" He leaped up, and he probably would have taken a swing at her if she had been in the room. "Don't you dare bring Daphne into this -"
"Have you been listening to me!" she cried, and suddenly the studied wooden blandness had vanished from her voice. He shrank away from the pain he heard there. "I am not bringing Daphne into any of this! Do you think this was an easy call for me to make? Do you think I wanted to admit that I give a shit what happens to you or to her? I am telling you that I have AIDS and that you gave it to me and now Daphne has it too. And I -" She broke off, voice shaking. He stood in the middle of the room, trembling, letting the silence drag on. Finally she said "I took some Valium earlier, but it doesn't seem to be working anymore, does it? I'm going to take a few more now. Goodbye, Niles."
"No! No, wait," he said, and surprisingly, he didn't hear a click on the other end. He was sufficiently startled that he forgot what he had been about to say, if he had ever had anything to say. The silence lasted a moment longer.
Finally Mel spoke. "I thought, when you left me, that that was the worst thing you could ever do to me," she said. "I can see I was wrong." Then she hung up.
He sank back onto the sofa, pulled a pillow to his chest, and tried to focus.
Focus.