Drama From Square One
Chapter 2
Author's notes: Despite bad press, I shall prevail! LOL. Seriously though, I don't write for anyone other than myself, and this story was really so I could get some piece of mind. It's nice if others like it, of course, that's the whole point of my posting this here, but it's not my number one priority. :)
Thank you so much to all the wonderful reviews I got. It's wonderful to see people offering pointers and giving compliments – it makes my day so awesome! You guys rock. Hope you like this chapter.
Frasier stepped on to the balcony of his apartment and stared out into the sky. The chill of early evening was settling into the air, and he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered slightly. In front of him all he could see were lights dotting the otherwise black of night, and he suddenly felt very alone, standing there on the cold cement with a hand resting on the steel of the ledge.
He'd convinced himself that his entire life had been leading up to this point - that this is what he'd been working for - but he realized now that it wasn't really true. A change in his job wouldn't make everything better - he'd tried that once eleven years ago, and though his life was much improved since then, it didn't really have anything to do with the fact that he'd quit private practise. A move to California would let him start fresh, but only in things he didn't need or - deep down - want to start fresh in. Still, the thought of staying here seemed worse somehow, and so he was moving.
Just as he walked back into the empty apartment and flicked on the TV, his doorbell rang and he glanced at the door. "It's me," said a muffled voice that sounded a lot like Roz's. Frasier opened the door and let her in.
"I rang the doorbell like five times, then gave up and went to the lobby to flirt with your cute doorman," she said, throwing her purse on his couch. "Where were you?"
He gestured to the balcony. "Sorry, can't hear anything when the door's closed."
She nodded and stared him in the face. "You've been acting kind of weird lately, is something wrong?" Concern edged her voice and she moved closer to lay a hand on his arm. He sighed and collapsed on the couch, and she followed suit.
"Well, I'm doing my last show tomorrow," he reminded her. "I'm sad to leave all my friends and patients at the radio station."
"Of course," she said, but her voice betrayed that she knew there was more.
"I'm feeling a bit... scared about California," he confessed, looking down at his hands. "I'm afraid I'm moving for the wrong reasons, like I think the farther I get from Charlotte the easier it will be to forget her."
"It might be true," Roz's gentle voice said. "She's not coming back, Frasier. Maybe you just need to start fresh."
He nodded, turned his head to look her in the eye, and leaned in to kiss her softly on the cheek. "You're right, of course."
"And hey," she said, making her voice light, "chances are you might find an awesome woman in California and life will be perfect. In fact, I'm sure you'll find someone, Frasier. Soon." She threw him a wide smile and reached for the remote, flicking on the TV. "Now let's watch that movie."
The next afternoon, after doing his very last show, he spent much too much time hugging people he'd never even spoken to and watching friends and family cry over his impending departure. A queasy feeling has settled itself in his stomach when he woke up, and every time someone mentioned 'California', it got worse. The thought of picking up and moving to an unfamiliar place did not, in itself, make him sick. It was more the fact that for the past eleven years he'd been searching for a woman to share his life with, and when he'd finally found the perfect one, he'd let her slip away.
Roz appeared from around the corner, her cheeks wet with tears, holding a box. "Hey Frasier, I rounded up some of the stuff in my booth I wanted you to have before you left." She handed it to him without looking him in the eye, and glancing inside of it he saw a plastic red microphone, a tape, and an old picture of the two of them that had been sitting on her desk since their second year working together.
"Roz...," he started, but she smiled and forced him into a tight hug before he could finish.
"Don't," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I understand why you're doing this, and I don't want to make a huge deal out of it. I'll be fine in a few weeks, maybe even days! I'm just emotional, is all." He watched her wipe away her tears and nearly everything in him crumbled with affection for her.
He squeezed her shoulder as she walked past and muttered, "I'll see you tonight at dinner."
The six of them sat around a large table in the middle of the restaurant that night. Roz, on his left, seemed to have given up on her tears and was now acting annoyingly cheerful. Niles had ordered everything for him so far, giving him wistful glances between exclamations of, "You have got to try this before you go!" and "Oh, but this is to die for!". Daphne was silent, picking at her food. Ronnie was, too, obviously feeling a little left out as they recounted old memories. Dad was acting like it was just another night out, which he found endearingly typical. Frasier himself had never felt less like eating.
In less than twenty-four hours, he'd be on a plane to California. His new landlord had called him that morning to confirm that he'd be moving in to his gorgeous, beach-side apartment at nine o'clock tomorrow night. His ticket was in his coat pocket. Everything was packed, ready to make the trip. There was an enormous part of him that was excited to go, excited to start fresh, but the psychiatrist in him was rearing its ugly head. Why did he feel the need to move so often? Was leaving for a better job a good enough reason? Shouldn't he pick up his life and carry it somewhere else for something more substantial, something like... the one?
The truth was, if Charlotte wasn't the one for him, he didn't know who could be.
At three o'clock the next afternoon, as Frasier sat mulling over a coffee and a paper, Roz knocked frantically on his door and then let herself in, carrying Alice. "Frasier, thank goodness you're here. Can I talk to you... alone?" She glanced at Alice.
"Yeah, sure, of course," he said, slightly worried, and turned on the TV for Alice before leading Roz to his bedroom. "What is it?" he asked as soon as he had shut the door.
"I didn't want to tell you this, because I know you have enough on your mind with the move and everything, but I can't take it anymore. There's no one else I really feel like I can talk to about this kind of stuff." She was breathing heavily, and Frasier noticed, for the first time, the bags under her eyes. He thought back to the number of times he'd seen her cry in the past few days. As usual, he'd been self-centred enough to believe it was all about him.
"Just... tell me, Roz," he said, and his voice shook.
"It's Rick," she blurted, sitting down on the bed. "He called the other day and wants to meet Alice. I guess I knew it would come someday, but... I'm terrified. He's coming in a week and it's so terrible, because I always pictured you there with me when it happened, and now you're going to be gone. And I started thinking... what do I all depend on you for?" She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He bent down, taking her hands in his, and she continued. "The list was endless. What the hell am I going to do without you?"
He pulled her into a hug as she started to sob. "Oh Roz, it's only California! It's not far at all. I'll be back all the time for visits."
"Oh come on, Frasier," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "We both know you're not going to California."
Hugging them all, those shells of being who had somehow become empty and yet electrified and glowing to his eyes, he felt the sum of something great and tumultuous pulsing through his veins. Their bodies, their skin against his - theirs was a real, tangible love, one he could feel and see and hear. He could watch the way their eyes shone and come to the direct conclusion that they meant it when they said they loved him. What kind of a love was he leaving them for?
A fresh batch of inhibitions rose as he walked away from them and to his gate. He hadn't told anyone else - except Roz - that he was going to Chicago. Not because he wanted to keep it a secret from them, but because he was afraid it wouldn't work out and then he'd look pathetic. And besides, he was afraid of the idea himself - moving so far away into a city he didn't really know - and he could only imagine how they'd feel when he told them.
As terrible as he felt leaving his family, he was ecstatic to be leaving for something that meant so much to him. Finally, he knew. Sure, he was afraid that Charlotte wouldn't feel the same, but at the same time it was wonderful to just know exactly how he felt about her, and to be doing something about it. Now, at least, he would know for sure, instead of spending every day in California wondering if it could have worked out between them.
