At the same time of Frasier's proposal, freelance artist Cécil Fernandez, bundled under his weighted blanket and attempting to unwind on his colorful Memphis couch, hovered his trembling right hand over his Garfield house phone. He wore nothing but an old, oversized Cedar Point tee and dingy lounge pants with holes at the knees. His fingers were sore and inflamed from compulsively chewing on his nails, dried blood on the cuticles of his thumb and index finger. His eyes darted to the digital clock next to the phone. Nine thirty in the evening, it read in its pea soup green glow.
He cupped his mouth with his left hand on the brink of tears, terrified that someone could hear the slightest whimper. His miniature American Eskimo Dog, Snowball, slept peacefully in her large orthopedic dog bed. Cécil wished at that very moment he was in Snowball's shoes: resting without a single worry in his mind. For the past forty-five minutes, he attempted the breathing exercises his therapist suggested with lackluster results. His heart pounded, deafening his ears in a symphony of a thousand or more drums. All that seemed to repeat in his head was the conversation he had in his apartment's dining room with Daphne and Roz Doyle, Frasier's producer at KACL, Sunday night.
"You have a crush on Frasier?" Roz exclaimed loudly. Cécil quickly put his index finger up to her mouth, a frantic look plastered on her face.
"Quiet, Roz!" He hissed. "I don't know how thick the walls are."
The radio producer took a heaping gulp of wine from her glass. "It's just out of left field! I thought he'd be the last guy you'd be into." She slammed it onto the table, causing some of the off white liquid to swish around the rim of the glass.
"I'm not entirely surprised that Cécil has feelings for Dr. Crane," said Daphne, who was sitting across from her friend.
Cécil and Roz exchanged a glance, absolutely baffled at Daphne's uninhibitedness.
"How the hell have you known this whole time? I haven't told anybody until today!" The overwhelmed artist interrogated. He had a death grip on his cup full of plain chocolate milk—a drink he often confided in when stressed.
"Yeah, what makes you so sure?"
"Nobody has looked at Frasier the way he," Martin's personal assistant pointed to Cécil. "looks at him."
"Not even Lilith?" He peeped, his face becoming progressively flushed.
"Not unless you're counting looks of contempt." A caterwaul of laughter arose between Daphne and Roz.
"This is no laughing matter, you two!" Cécil interjected. "I don't know what to do about this. Why did I have to fall in love with him, of all people?" He shamefully buried his face in his hands.
"I was the same way when I fell in love with Niles." Daphne consoled.
"And look where that led her! She's been happily dating Niles after telling him how she felt." Roz placed a comforting hand on Cécil's shoulder. The freelancer was eased by Roz's comfort and looked back up at his friends.
"You shouldn't do what I had done, though. Don't end up leaving your fiancé at the altar." Daphne warned. "It was a huge sacrifice that I made to be happy."
Cécil nodded intently.
"Luckily in your situation, you can start your potential relationship with Dr. Crane on a much higher note."
"Thank you, Daphne." The Englishwoman's solid advice gave him a smidgen of optimism. He twiddled his thumbs aimlessly, hesitant to ask Roz what was to him, a vital question that could determine where he would go next. "Roz… has Frasier talked about being interested in anyone? Has he mentioned it at the radio station or to his brother?" There was a brief moment of silence as Roz's eyes looked upward, pondering, and figuring out an answer to her lovestruck friend's question.
"I can say with confidence that no, he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone." She announced with complete honesty.
Cécil froze, his mouth slightly open in shock. "Oh, my God." A nervous laugh rumbled his throat. "I… I guess I have a chance, then?"
"Don't psych yourself out, Fernandez!" Roz gave Cécil a friendly punch to his shoulder. "The ball's in your court."
Roz's words to Cécil haunted him as he teetered on the decision of impulsively calling Frasier or staying up all night a nervous wreck. He was now grappling the orange phone in his sweaty palm. All he had to do was press the top left button in the section of the phone meant for speed-dialing. He felt her stomach drop realizing that the only person he has on speed dial was him.
"Goddammit!" He swore loudly between his digits, immediately regretting it, wincing. He sucked in a deep breath within her teeth. At that moment, Cécil Fernandez determined he had nothing to lose. Craning his neck away from the quirky Garfield phone and gluing his eyes shut, he lifted the phone and pushed the speed dial button. The trilling of the phone as he waited for a response with bated breath made the blood in his veins run cold. He waited for what felt like minutes until the sound of the line being picked up temporarily soothed him. He swallowed, trying not to break down in tears.
"...Frasier?" His voice warbled. "Are you there? I… I need to talk to you about something."