So this isn't really a completed section. My summer classes just entered
the final stretch, and what with two eight-page papers and two final exams
on the immediate horizon, this has had to go on the back burner. However,
I didn't want people to think I'd abandoned this, so I decided to post what
I have at present and I'll update it again when I have more. don't go away,
this will get finished. ;)
Chapter 13
So she had a decision to make. And. and she was going to make it. A calm, rational decision - not precluding real emotion, of course, but sentiment was out. Definitely. She was going to think it all through and come to a clear decision that would be right for her. She was going to do it alone, of course. She couldn't afford to have her perceptions clouded by someone else's perspective. She sat on the couch for a few minutes, knees hugged up close to her chest, thinking.
Abandoning pretense, she picked up the phone and dialed Frasier's number.
Frasier sounded nearly as confused as she felt. The difference was that he, being Frasier, was shielding the complexity of his emotion behind blinding rage. He was doing a wonderful job of it, and there was something vaguely comforting in listening to him rant. He'd been going on for a few minutes, bellowing about the nerve of his brother to come back expecting that nothing would have changed, when it struck her that he was effectively taking her side over Niles'. He was oversimplifying, clearly, and she knew he was much more torn than he was letting on. He loved his brother dearly, after all, and having seen the way Niles' flight had crushed him Daphne couldn't believe that his only reaction on having Niles back was anger. It didn't take a psychiatrist to know that anger was easier to deal with than a flood of conflicting emotions.
Still, he hadn't necessarily had to choose anger. He could have sided with Niles, could have told Daphne that Niles had made amends by coming back, that he was very sorry and she would be a fool to throw away the life they had made together based on one mistake. It didn't quite ring true; Frasier did anger much better than sentimentality, anyway. But it said something, that he had chosen to be furious with Niles. She suspected it meant that at absolute core, Frasier was still disappointed in his brother. In other words, that his coming back wasn't enough to make up for his leaving.
She listened to Frasier for perhaps fifteen minutes, then politely asked if she could speak to Martin, not having gotten a word in edgewise in those fifteen minutes. Frasier handed the phone off willingly enough (she pictured him going to continue his rant to the new rhododendron on the balcony). Martin, in contrast, was nearly silent. Also characteristic.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Daph," he said. "It's your decision. I don't want to interfere."
"Oh, come on, old man, you spend your life not interfering. This is different. I'm asking your opinion."
"What I think doesn't matter. All that matters is what you think. And what Niles thinks," he added as an afterthought.
"But what if I don't know what I think?" Daphne asked, fighting back tears. "Please, it's not like I'm going to get angry with you if things go wrong - and do you want me crying on the phone?" she added, with one small vestige of canny sensibility.
"No, I don't want you crying on the phone," Martin mimicked, and then stopped. He sighed heavily.
"Look, I can't tell you what to do. I just -"
"Yes?" she said, leaning into the pause.
"I think you two both need a lot more time to think this through," he said. "I've seen a lot of messes happen when people just rush right into things, the way he wants you to do. He's had a lot of time to think, but you haven't, and I don't think it would be a good idea for you to take this at his pace. Okay? He'll wait."
"You still didn't tell me what you think I should do," Daphne said.
"And I'm not going to. Because, frankly, I don't know what the hell you should do. I don't even know what I'd do. The whole thing's a mess."
"Dr. Crane - Frasier - was going on and on about self-respect, and self- worth, and self - oh, I don't know, all sorts of things that start with self."
"Well, it may sound like a lot of psychobabble coming from him, but you do have to watch out for yourself, Daph."
"Yes. but. oh, I don't know! What we had together was so good, and I really - I mean, we were in love, and I just don't -" She felt him squirming over the phone line and broke off. "I don't know. You're right. I need time to work this out. Do you think - do you think he'll be okay with that?"
"I'm sure he will, but if he isn't, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference," Martin said crisply. "Take all the time you need."
She smiled a little. "Thanks, Mr. Crane. Why is it you're the only Crane man who's not a psychiatrist, and you're the only one I can get any kind of a straight answer from?"
"I think you just answered your own question," Martin said, and Daphne laughed. "What are you going to do now?"
"I just told you, I don't have a clue. You were the one who told me to take my time."
"I mean this afternoon."
"Oh. I don't know. Think, I suppose."
"Well, don't think too hard. Sometimes that's the best way to get yourself even more screwed up," was Martin's parting advisory.
Probably. But it was hard, this business of not thinking too hard. Shopping might have cured it, and in fact Daphne was two pairs of shoes up when she caught herself. She knew that wasn't what Martin had meant, either.
But what else was she supposed to do?
Chapter 13
So she had a decision to make. And. and she was going to make it. A calm, rational decision - not precluding real emotion, of course, but sentiment was out. Definitely. She was going to think it all through and come to a clear decision that would be right for her. She was going to do it alone, of course. She couldn't afford to have her perceptions clouded by someone else's perspective. She sat on the couch for a few minutes, knees hugged up close to her chest, thinking.
Abandoning pretense, she picked up the phone and dialed Frasier's number.
Frasier sounded nearly as confused as she felt. The difference was that he, being Frasier, was shielding the complexity of his emotion behind blinding rage. He was doing a wonderful job of it, and there was something vaguely comforting in listening to him rant. He'd been going on for a few minutes, bellowing about the nerve of his brother to come back expecting that nothing would have changed, when it struck her that he was effectively taking her side over Niles'. He was oversimplifying, clearly, and she knew he was much more torn than he was letting on. He loved his brother dearly, after all, and having seen the way Niles' flight had crushed him Daphne couldn't believe that his only reaction on having Niles back was anger. It didn't take a psychiatrist to know that anger was easier to deal with than a flood of conflicting emotions.
Still, he hadn't necessarily had to choose anger. He could have sided with Niles, could have told Daphne that Niles had made amends by coming back, that he was very sorry and she would be a fool to throw away the life they had made together based on one mistake. It didn't quite ring true; Frasier did anger much better than sentimentality, anyway. But it said something, that he had chosen to be furious with Niles. She suspected it meant that at absolute core, Frasier was still disappointed in his brother. In other words, that his coming back wasn't enough to make up for his leaving.
She listened to Frasier for perhaps fifteen minutes, then politely asked if she could speak to Martin, not having gotten a word in edgewise in those fifteen minutes. Frasier handed the phone off willingly enough (she pictured him going to continue his rant to the new rhododendron on the balcony). Martin, in contrast, was nearly silent. Also characteristic.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Daph," he said. "It's your decision. I don't want to interfere."
"Oh, come on, old man, you spend your life not interfering. This is different. I'm asking your opinion."
"What I think doesn't matter. All that matters is what you think. And what Niles thinks," he added as an afterthought.
"But what if I don't know what I think?" Daphne asked, fighting back tears. "Please, it's not like I'm going to get angry with you if things go wrong - and do you want me crying on the phone?" she added, with one small vestige of canny sensibility.
"No, I don't want you crying on the phone," Martin mimicked, and then stopped. He sighed heavily.
"Look, I can't tell you what to do. I just -"
"Yes?" she said, leaning into the pause.
"I think you two both need a lot more time to think this through," he said. "I've seen a lot of messes happen when people just rush right into things, the way he wants you to do. He's had a lot of time to think, but you haven't, and I don't think it would be a good idea for you to take this at his pace. Okay? He'll wait."
"You still didn't tell me what you think I should do," Daphne said.
"And I'm not going to. Because, frankly, I don't know what the hell you should do. I don't even know what I'd do. The whole thing's a mess."
"Dr. Crane - Frasier - was going on and on about self-respect, and self- worth, and self - oh, I don't know, all sorts of things that start with self."
"Well, it may sound like a lot of psychobabble coming from him, but you do have to watch out for yourself, Daph."
"Yes. but. oh, I don't know! What we had together was so good, and I really - I mean, we were in love, and I just don't -" She felt him squirming over the phone line and broke off. "I don't know. You're right. I need time to work this out. Do you think - do you think he'll be okay with that?"
"I'm sure he will, but if he isn't, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference," Martin said crisply. "Take all the time you need."
She smiled a little. "Thanks, Mr. Crane. Why is it you're the only Crane man who's not a psychiatrist, and you're the only one I can get any kind of a straight answer from?"
"I think you just answered your own question," Martin said, and Daphne laughed. "What are you going to do now?"
"I just told you, I don't have a clue. You were the one who told me to take my time."
"I mean this afternoon."
"Oh. I don't know. Think, I suppose."
"Well, don't think too hard. Sometimes that's the best way to get yourself even more screwed up," was Martin's parting advisory.
Probably. But it was hard, this business of not thinking too hard. Shopping might have cured it, and in fact Daphne was two pairs of shoes up when she caught herself. She knew that wasn't what Martin had meant, either.
But what else was she supposed to do?