Ahhh... I haven't updated in over two months, and I greet you with a cheap
chapter. I'm very ashamed of myself. Anyway, there should be 1 more chapter
after this, and then probably an Epilogue.
*****
It's still raining.
I guess that's to be expected. I sent my letter to Frasier a week ago and I have yet to receive a reply. This means one of two things: 1- it got lost in the mail and he never got to read it, or 2- he read it and he doesn't care.
While I would like to believe it's the former, I know that it's the latter. Why did I even write that stupid letter? It's so ridiculous. I mean, did I actually expect him to reply?
I can't believe some of the stuff I said in it. It's really quite embarrassing. I knew he didn't feel the same way, so why did I send it?
The phone rings, so I answer. It's Daphne.
"Hello, Roz, I haven't heard from you in quite a while," she says.
"Yeah, I know," I mumble, my thoughts still lost on Frasier and the letter.
"What have you been up to?"
"Nothing." I sound very disinterested. I wonder if she notices.
"Listen, Roz, the reason I'm calling you isn't to check up on you. Well, it is, but in a different way. Why didn't you tell me you confessed to Frasier?"
"What?" How could she know?
"You confessed to him that you love him!"
"How did you know that? And how did you know I love him?"
"Oh please, it's so obvious that you love him! You're all depressed and mopey and you've been sulking for three months now! And I know you confessed because I have your letter right in front of me!"
Oh no. She has it in front of her. She had read it, which means that he must have read it!
"Oh God," is all I can say.
"It's really beautiful."
"Daphne - how, I mean wha- what are you doing with that? How do you have it? Where did you get it?!" I'm freaking out now. What is going on?
"Calm down now Roz. I was over visiting and it caught my eye. It was sitting on the coffee table. So I excused myself to the bathroom and read it, and I knew I had to call you because this is HUGE!"
"Are you still in his apartment right now?!"
"Yes! Did you think I could wait until after dinner for a thing like this?"
"Well, I didn't even think that anyone would ever read it!"
"You didn't? Well what do you think people do with their mail? I mean, I get a letter and I open it and read it! I don't just chuck it away without seeing what the person had to say!"
"Yeah, well, you might if the person that wrote to you hadn't spoken to you in three months."
"Actually, I think that would make me even more excited to read it," Daphne says.
I think about this for a moment until she begins to talk again.
"So what are you going to do now?" she asks me.
"What do you mean 'what are going to do'? I'm not going to do anything. There isn't anything to do."
"So you're not going to say anything to him?"
"What am I going to say? How do I even know that he read it?" Although I already know that he did.
"Maybe because it was sitting opened on his coffee table! Look, Roz, you need to find out how he feels, because otherwise, you're just going to torture yourself waiting in suspense."
"I'm not talking to him Daphne," I say sternly.
"Why not?"
"I'm just not."
"But why?"
"Because! I've already told him that I love him, and that I always have and will. I gave him the opportunity to take it or leave it. I left it up to him to call me, or to pretend like he doesn't know me. It's been a week since I mailed that letter. That's seven days; that's one hundred and sixty- eight hours; that's ten thousand and eighty minutes; that's six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred seconds. It feels like a lifetime. If he hasn't responded by now, I already have my answer. He doesn't want me. I don't need to humiliate myself even more by going to him and asking him for an answer."
There is silence on the other end of the phone. I hang up.
And in a way, it's like I gave up.
It's all over now.
****** -Frasier
I have yet to decide what to do about Roz. I realize now that I love her, but can I forgive her? She's put me in misery. She blew up at something that was completely uncalled for, and then shut me out for months. I haven't even seen Alice since then. Oh, how I miss that little girl. I love her almost like she is my own, and being separated from her has felt almost as if I've been separated from Freddie all over again. Which makes me realize...
Being separated from Roz has felt almost as if I've been through another divorce.
This is all so confusing. All of a sudden I'm seeing Roz as more than my friend? I'm seeing her as my wife? Yet I'm still so angry with her for what she did to me.
I reach for the letter and read over it again. My eyes glue to the last words.
-"I'm sorry."
I know that she is.
And I know what I have to do.
******
From what I've seen
You're just one more hand me down
'Cause no one's tried to give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down
I am with you now
-Hand Me Down, Matchbox 20
******
Hmmm.....this time, I won't promise that I'll update soon, in case I don't. But I hope to update soon, because I'd like to finish this story! Please review, and thanks for your patience!
*****
It's still raining.
I guess that's to be expected. I sent my letter to Frasier a week ago and I have yet to receive a reply. This means one of two things: 1- it got lost in the mail and he never got to read it, or 2- he read it and he doesn't care.
While I would like to believe it's the former, I know that it's the latter. Why did I even write that stupid letter? It's so ridiculous. I mean, did I actually expect him to reply?
I can't believe some of the stuff I said in it. It's really quite embarrassing. I knew he didn't feel the same way, so why did I send it?
The phone rings, so I answer. It's Daphne.
"Hello, Roz, I haven't heard from you in quite a while," she says.
"Yeah, I know," I mumble, my thoughts still lost on Frasier and the letter.
"What have you been up to?"
"Nothing." I sound very disinterested. I wonder if she notices.
"Listen, Roz, the reason I'm calling you isn't to check up on you. Well, it is, but in a different way. Why didn't you tell me you confessed to Frasier?"
"What?" How could she know?
"You confessed to him that you love him!"
"How did you know that? And how did you know I love him?"
"Oh please, it's so obvious that you love him! You're all depressed and mopey and you've been sulking for three months now! And I know you confessed because I have your letter right in front of me!"
Oh no. She has it in front of her. She had read it, which means that he must have read it!
"Oh God," is all I can say.
"It's really beautiful."
"Daphne - how, I mean wha- what are you doing with that? How do you have it? Where did you get it?!" I'm freaking out now. What is going on?
"Calm down now Roz. I was over visiting and it caught my eye. It was sitting on the coffee table. So I excused myself to the bathroom and read it, and I knew I had to call you because this is HUGE!"
"Are you still in his apartment right now?!"
"Yes! Did you think I could wait until after dinner for a thing like this?"
"Well, I didn't even think that anyone would ever read it!"
"You didn't? Well what do you think people do with their mail? I mean, I get a letter and I open it and read it! I don't just chuck it away without seeing what the person had to say!"
"Yeah, well, you might if the person that wrote to you hadn't spoken to you in three months."
"Actually, I think that would make me even more excited to read it," Daphne says.
I think about this for a moment until she begins to talk again.
"So what are you going to do now?" she asks me.
"What do you mean 'what are going to do'? I'm not going to do anything. There isn't anything to do."
"So you're not going to say anything to him?"
"What am I going to say? How do I even know that he read it?" Although I already know that he did.
"Maybe because it was sitting opened on his coffee table! Look, Roz, you need to find out how he feels, because otherwise, you're just going to torture yourself waiting in suspense."
"I'm not talking to him Daphne," I say sternly.
"Why not?"
"I'm just not."
"But why?"
"Because! I've already told him that I love him, and that I always have and will. I gave him the opportunity to take it or leave it. I left it up to him to call me, or to pretend like he doesn't know me. It's been a week since I mailed that letter. That's seven days; that's one hundred and sixty- eight hours; that's ten thousand and eighty minutes; that's six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred seconds. It feels like a lifetime. If he hasn't responded by now, I already have my answer. He doesn't want me. I don't need to humiliate myself even more by going to him and asking him for an answer."
There is silence on the other end of the phone. I hang up.
And in a way, it's like I gave up.
It's all over now.
****** -Frasier
I have yet to decide what to do about Roz. I realize now that I love her, but can I forgive her? She's put me in misery. She blew up at something that was completely uncalled for, and then shut me out for months. I haven't even seen Alice since then. Oh, how I miss that little girl. I love her almost like she is my own, and being separated from her has felt almost as if I've been separated from Freddie all over again. Which makes me realize...
Being separated from Roz has felt almost as if I've been through another divorce.
This is all so confusing. All of a sudden I'm seeing Roz as more than my friend? I'm seeing her as my wife? Yet I'm still so angry with her for what she did to me.
I reach for the letter and read over it again. My eyes glue to the last words.
-"I'm sorry."
I know that she is.
And I know what I have to do.
******
From what I've seen
You're just one more hand me down
'Cause no one's tried to give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down
I am with you now
-Hand Me Down, Matchbox 20
******
Hmmm.....this time, I won't promise that I'll update soon, in case I don't. But I hope to update soon, because I'd like to finish this story! Please review, and thanks for your patience!