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He thought he knew what love was.
He married his high school sweetheart. They stayed together through undergrad, got married out of med school, had Tanner his intern year, Penny came two years later. This was love, this was his life.
When he decided to become a doctor, the real decision, sometime his sophomore year of high school, he saw his entire life planned before him. High school: full of AP classes and advanced science labs. Undergrad: pre-med track, graduate Summa Cum Laude, 4.0 GPA, ADHD be damned. Med school: get into Duke, work his ass off, be a doctor. By the time he reaches residency, he has it figured out. Married to his first girlfriend, two kids, a dog, a house in the suburbs, and he was a fucking good doctor.
He had it all. He had it figured out. If he slept on the couch more often than he liked, if he slipped pills from patients prescriptions, then no one needed to know.
The thing about marrying your high school sweetheart, your first and only girlfriend, is, he finds, it doesn’t leave much space to grow. He looks at Abby and he feels like he’s still the same kid in North Carolina, studying AP Physics until three in the morning, hoping it’s enough to pass his exam in the morning. He felt like there was a version of him in Abby’s eyes and there was the real him, and the two were growing further and further apart, like a fork in a long, winding mountain road. He supposes that’s how he ended up with a secret addiction.
There was a time when looking at Abby made his heart stutter in his chest, but he couldn’t remember the last time it happened. Med school? Undergrad? High school, even?
The exception to it all, the reason for everything, is his kids. Abby gave him their kids. He owes her everything for that. Nothing he could ever do could ever repay her for this.
He thought he knew what love was.
Then he met her.
Golden hair braided down her back, lavender shirt, navy blue glasses. R2, fresh from the VA, bright beaming smile. Everyone calls her Mel.
He met her and it felt like everything fell into place—well. In actuality, everything fell apart that day. His life imploded around him, and nothing was ever the same. But there was her. And that was enough.
Meeting her opened up a world he never thought possible. It was like there was a rope attached to him, and the other end to her, pulling them together. He never felt that pull. Not until her. He never believed in fate. Not until her.
He met her on the worst day of his life, and didn’t see her again for the better part of a year, but when he came back, it was like he never left. He orbited around her, treating patients together like a dream team. She knew his next move before he did, sending orders for CT and x-ray before he even asked, matching him down to the steps his feet made on the linoleum floor.
If he’s honest with himself—something he tries to be, but rarely is—he was half in love with Mel by the end of that first day. He never believed in love at first sight, barely believed in love at all, but there was something cosmic in the air around her.
When he came back ten months later, tail between his legs, persistent ache in his back, marriage on the rocks, and Mel ran straight to him, that was it. They became inseparable, like the ten months never happened at all.
It took a year for the divorce to be settled, another six months to work up the courage to tell her how he felt. He’s been an attending for 3 years, Mel for one, when it finally happens.
They’re laying on the couch in their house they rent together–4 bedrooms, enough space for the kids on his days with them, and Becca–and everyone has gone to sleep. It’s just him and Mel, and the TV playing Love Island in the background. (Mel loves reality TV, her guilty pleasure, and he loves her, and honestly, the show is really entertaining, so they watch the new episodes every night).
“Do any of these relationships actually last past the end of the show?” He asks. Mel is leaning against his chest, settled between his legs. His hand is twirling in her loose hair, still wavy from a full day in her braid.
“Yeah, some of them do. There’s a couple from season two, I think, who stayed together and got married and had like, 3 kids.”
“Wow, that's kind of surprising, honestly,” he answers. “I guess I don’t have much room to talk, though. Failed marriage and everything.”
“You didn’t fail. You and Abby ended something that was no longer benefiting either of you.” Mel tells him, softly. She always has a way of making everything make sense, making the dominoes fall into line. “Besides, the next one won’t end like that.”
It takes him a second to understand what she means, brain foggy from exhaustion. When he does, he feels the blood in his veins run a few degrees cooler. It’s not like he’s never thought of it. He already knew that he and Mel would be together for the rest of their–hopefully very long, very full–lives. But he thought that with Abby too, didn’t he? (In all honesty, he doesn’t remember, it’s been over twenty years since he started dating Abby. Also, he was sixteen. Doesn’t every sixteen year old couple think they’re going to be together forever?)
He prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that Mel can’t feel his body tense under hers. His prayers go unanswered, and Mel stands, clearly desperate to get away from this topic. “I guess we should… uh… I’m gonna go to bed. Early morning.” She tells him, already walking to the kitchen to fill her water cup, the first step of her night routine. They have a 7:00 shift in the morning.
He knows he fucked up when Mel closes the ensuite door to do her skincare and brush her teeth. They do it together every night. It’s one of his favorite parts of the day; the casual intimacy of it, of standing in their tiny bathroom, sharing a sink, bodies bumping against each other while they try to maneuver around the space. He knows it's one of her favorite times too.
By the time he’s emerged from the bathroom for his routine, the lights are off, and Mel has turned over, already asleep–or trying to, it usually takes her a while to doze off–and he can tell she needs her space right now, so he grabs his good pillow, and an extra one for his back, and goes to sleep on the couch for the night, whispering that he loves her on the way out the door.
His alarm wakes him up at 5:00, and he heads to the ensuite to shower, careful not to wake Mel, still sleeping alone on their bed. He starts the coffee pot, and starts waking up the kids, and knocks on Becca’s door to rouse her too. Mel comes downstairs at 6:00 on the dot, showered and braiding her wet hair. Tanner and Penny are eating cereal, Becca having oatmeal with a banana. Mel steals quick glances at him on the drive to school and Becca’s facility and work, but she says nothing. He misses her.
They pull up at PTMC at 6:49, and it’s the last time he sees Mel until their shift is over. They worked opposite cases all day, and he’s not sure if that was a coincidence or on purpose. If anyone notices, they don’t say anything.
He doesn’t get the chance to talk with her again until Becca has gone to bed–Abby takes the kids on shift days. They’re sitting on the couch again, but she’s sitting on the other end this time. As far away as possible.
“Mel, you okay?” (She’s not. He knows she’s not, but he’s a coward and doesn’t know what else to say.)
“I’m fine.” She says it in that soft, meek voice that she uses when she doesn’t want someone fussing over her, like there’s a wall around her that she built to protect herself.
“Mel.”
“I… If you don’t want to be with me, it’s–”
“What?” He bawks, almost laughs, because this–not being with Mel–was never on the table. The idea of it is absurd. “Mel, no. That is not what is happening here.”
She won’t meet his eyes. He is the worst person alive. “Then, um. What is…?” she asks. “Happening here, I mean. Because you slept on the couch last night and… I don’t know… the marriage comment. It seemed like you got uncomfortable.”
“Baby, I slept on the couch because I knew you needed your space. I missed you all night and all day today.” Mel nods, still not looking him in the eyes.
“I just… We have a life together. The house, our routine, Becca… Your kids call me ‘momma Mel’. I thought that meant something, and I know I’m not the greatest at picking up undertones or reading between the lines, but I thought–”
“Mel, you are the love of my life. You are it for me. I have never, and will never, love anyone in the world the way that I love you.”
“But… you don’t want to marry me.” She says it with a finality that makes his stomach turn in his body. He might vomit.
“No, Mel. Fuck.” This is coming out all wrong. “I want to marry you. God, I want to marry you so bad. But there’s so many thoughts running through my head all the time, and fuck. I’m scared, okay?”
“…what?”
“When I married Abby, I thought that was it. No one getting married thinks it’s going to end in divorce. And then… then it did.” He’s talked about this before, with his therapist, in NA, to Cassie. “I loved Abby, I married her, we had our kids. It was all going to plan, and then it all fell apart.” He pauses, a lump in his throat, the back of his nose starting to sting with unshed tears. “The divorce was a long time coming, we were never the perfect couple, even before we got married. It wasn’t devastating, because the writing was on the wall.” He takes a breath. “But you, Mel. If we fell apart… I wouldn’t survive it.”
“Oh.” Mel’s face softens, a ridge of concern between her eyebrows. She finally looks at him.
“Losing you, fucking us up, it would kill me. I’m scared. I’m really—I’m really fucking scared.” He has to stop talking, the lump in his throat is too much, his eyes are glazing over with tears. He’s told this to his therapist and no one else. He’s aware it’s not the healthiest of mindsets, but he’s not exactly the healthiest of men.
“I… I didn’t know that,” is how Mel responds.
“It… It’s not just that. I’m not… I wasn’t a good husband, Mel.” Mel opens her mouth to argue, but he can’t let her. This is too important. “I didn’t listen to her well, I was checked out half of the time, I got her a high energy dog to take care of on top of two toddlers.“ His addiction wasn’t the cause of the divorce, but he certainly thinks it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I can’t… I won’t let myself do that to you. Abby didn’t deserve it, and you don’t deserve it. You both deserve equal partners. Someone who listens and remembers and… stands by you. In sickness and in health, or whatever. I failed Abby. I will not let myself fail you.”
Mel doesn’t say anything, just scoots closer to him, and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his head to her chest. The angle is awkward, and if he was in a cognizant state of mind right now, he would be concerned about his back, but Mel is combing her fingers through his hair, and he can hear her heart beating against her chest, and he loves her, so he stays.
“I didn’t know your divorce weighed on you like that. I’m sorry.” Mel speaks up, still combing her fingers through his hair.
“I didn’t really either. I mean, I’ve talked about it in therapy a lot, but since Abby and I are friends, I guess I thought I was over it?” He huffs a sigh, lifts his head and sits up to look in her eyes again. Mel moves her hand to cup his cheek. “I guess there’s still some lingering fear… and since I already knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, I didn’t think about it very hard. I’m so sorry, Mel. I should’ve just talked to you.”
“Yes, you should’ve.” She tells him, thumb tracing circles on his cheekbone. “But I should’ve too. I shouldn’t have shut down. You know I have a hard time with emotions sometimes.” She drops her hand to her lap, follows it with her eyes, fidgets with a loose thread on her pants. “And… we don’t even have to get married… I just thought it might… I don't know. It might be better. Spousal privileges, if something happens to either of us–if something happens to me, and Becca is left behind, or the kids, even. Even if something happened to you, I love those kids. I would want to be around, still.” He might cry again. “I think Abby would want that too.”
“She would. She loves you, too.” He brushes her hair off her face. The three of them were an unlikely trio. His ex wife, the love of his life, and him, somehow best friends. The realization that he and Abby were much better as friends than they ever were married, it was easy. It felt right.
“And… I understand why you’re worried about getting married again, but… Frank, I’m not Abby, and you’re not the same Frank you were when you were married to Abby, and certainly not the same Frank you were when you started dating her.” Mel knows how long he was with Abby, that she was his only girlfriend, the only woman he’d ever been with before the divorce. “And that’s not to say Abby did anything wrong either. You are both different people than you were when you got together. You grew up, grew apart, went through things that changed you both, and the relationship wasn’t serving you anymore. Maybe… Maybe you both stopped trying, somewhere along the way. That’s understandable too.”
He sees the way she struggles to say it. She feels guilty for letting it out. But she’s not wrong. He and Abby both gave up in their relationship, long before he was addicted to benzos. Sometimes he feels like having Penny was a Hail Mary for their marriage, but he’d never admit that out loud, to anyone. In the end, it gave him Penny, and she is worth it all, no matter the reason.
“I swear to god, Mel, I will never, ever stop trying with you. Even when we’re fighting, or we’re exhausted from work and the kids, never. I shouldn’t have let it happen with Abby, and I will not let it happen with you. You are the love of my life.” He cups Mel’s face in between his hands, forcing her to make eye contact. “I love you, Mel. I mean it, there is no one, there is nothing, but you. I am going to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Mel smiles her small, private smile, the one only reserved for him, and nods.
He thought he knew what love was.
Now he does.