Archive of Our Own

Of course, the worst day of Abby’s life starts with the dog. 

She had been startled out of a dreamless sleep by the sensation of something moving next to her. She stretched lazily, flailing a hand across her king-sized mattress. Had it been any other day over the course of her marriage, she would have connected with Frank’s solid middle. She would feel him curling up next to her, so deep in sleep that he was practically dead to the world. She might have shimmied over to push the hair, a little too long for this time of year, off of his brow. She might have pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt rough stubble underneath her lips. She would have been flooded with the scent of his eucalyptus and cedar soap. She would have felt the body heat that always came off him in waves. Maybe all of that would have been enough to lull her back to sleep. 

Instead, this morning she found nothing but the damn dog. 

“Peanut,” she mumbles, her voice still thick with sleep. “You know you’re not supposed to be up here.” 

Peanut, the offending Goldendoodle, blinks up at her with the epitome of puppy dog eyes. He’s artfully arranged himself so that his head lays perfectly on the nearly flat pillow that Frank had insisted on keeping since medical school. As she blinks her eyes open, she could see that the toddler gate that she had instructed Frank to set up when he brought the dog home is lying completely useless on their bedroom floor. Frank’s gym bag lies next to it, running shoes and neon shorts spilling out of them. His white coat is hanging from the knob of their closet door. His Apple Watch and phone are charging on their usual spot on the dresser, next to some mindless thriller that he was only a quarter of the way through. Everything is exactly where he left it a few days ago

Abby wants to scream, but she can only sigh. 

Almost as if she’s having a conversation with a person, Peanut lets out a low whine in response.
 

“Yeah, you miss him, too, huh?” Abby reaches out and threads her fingers through his soft bronze curls. Peanut closes his eyes with pleasure. The two of them lie like that, Peanut with his nose buried in Frank’s pillow and Abby rubbing soft circles on his head, as the first rays of sun start to stream through the gauzy curtains. With Frank not home, there was no need for her to pull the blackout ones over them. 

Abby takes a steeling breath and sits up. Her neck and lower back practically scream in response. She must have slept funny, body twisted at an awkward angle. “Wanna go outside, Peanut?” 

She swears that the dog smiles at her. Peanut practically leaps out of bed and darts around the room. His paws are too big for the rest of his body, and he skids around without control. As Abby drags herself out of bed to the en-suite bathroom, Peanut gets tangled up in the sweatshirt she was too lazy to throw in the wash last night. He yaps confusedly, lashing around with an ungraceful charm. It would have been funny if Abby would have been up to laughing. 

Despite tucking herself into bed as soon as the kids were down, she still looks exhausted. The bags under her eyes are dark enough to look like bruises. There are the beginnings of worry lines on her forehead. She splashes water on her face and brushes her teeth dutifully. Her toothbrush, for the first time in nearly a decade, is alone in the cup next to the sink. Her engagement ring and wedding band are alone on the custom dish her brother bought them when they first got engaged. The engraved “A ♡s F” mocks her as she slips it on her finger. She pulls her hair back into a claw clip at the base of her skull. She hopes desperately that her greasy hair is giving a slick-back rather than unwashed. Not that she had the time or the energy to do anything to fix it. She digs through her dresser as Peanut nips at her heels. She pulls on the first clean things she finds - socks, underwear, sports bra, orange biker shorts, and Frank’s UVA crewneck. Her Princess Di outfit is what he always called this look. She can’t be bothered to find her own sneakers. Instead, she slips her feet into a pair of slippers before the two of them slink down the stairs. 

The house is uncharacteristically quiet. At this point in the morning, there would usually be the sound of Frank’s car warming up in the driveway and the microwave dinging in the kitchen. Even though he had an AirPod in, Abby would still hear the quiet conversation Frank always had with one of the nurses or Ellis or Abbot from the night shift. He always had some consultation or some situation that he had to be aware of as he got ready for his day. The kids, always early risers, would be scampering down the stairs to say goodbye to their dad. Abby would be shortly behind them, trying to get Tanner ready for school and trying to get Penny ready for a day at the park or the library. Inevitably, someone would turn on Bluey or the news. 

This Saturday, the kids are in their rooms. Abby’s mom, who had gotten in a few days ago from Richmond, is either sleeping in the guest bedroom or reading the Bible like she did every morning. No one is making coffee or breakfast or getting ready for work or a run. Distantly, outside, the birds sing in the warm early fall weather. 

It doesn’t take long for Abby to clip Peanut into his harness. She grabs the spare set of keys and the poop bag that Frank kept by the door and sneaks out into their cul-de-sac. 

They’re hardly down the driveway before Peanut is bounding down the sidewalk, pulling Abby behind. She’s shocked by how much force such a little creature could generate. The weather is humid and muggy. It’s a morning that’s already reached nearly seventy degrees, heralding the kind of hot summer day that Abby had thought they’d left behind this time of year. She can feel herself sweating under Frank’s heavy sweatshirt. Around them, the neighborhood slowly stirs awake. The elderly couple that lives three doors down have started picking at the last of the harvest from their garden before it gets too hot. The teenager who lives closest to the road has started shooting balls into his lacrosse net. She can hear the honking of early morning traffic a few streets over. 

If Frank were home, she would probably be getting ready for a Pilates class or heading over to the grocery store for the week. Instead, she is trying not to get dragged into the street by a thirty-pound dog. 

“Isn’t that usually Frank’s job?” Someone calls, pulling her out of her thoughts. “He’s usually the one I see every morning when I go to work.”

Abby can see Jackie, one of their neighbors, waving at her. A nurse at one of the UPMC hospitals in a better part of town, her neat teal scrubs blend in perfectly with the cloudless sky. Her thick black hair is pinned up in a sleek up-do. Despite the fact that she’s carrying coffee, water, a backpack, and a lunch box, she looks confident and effortless.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Abby approaches cautiously. Peanut darts around her, and she has to scramble to avoid getting her feet tangled up in his leash. 

“Is he out of town? I haven’t seen him around all week, but the Bronco’s still in the driveway.” Jackie carefully unloads her bags into the backseat of her oversized minivan. She and her husband have four kids. The youngest is around Tanner’s age. At least Abby thinks he is. Frank and Jackie usually coordinated those playdates.

She glances back at her house. Her red, white, and blue wreath from the Fourth of July still hangs on the black door out front. Her hydrangeas need water, and she still hasn’t purchased her mums for the year. Tanner and Penelope left at least three brightly colored balls in the front yard. The swing that Frank built for them is still broken down; he hadn’t had the chance to fix it. Frank’s forest green Bronco sits untouched in the driveway.  

“Yeah, um. Peanut, sit.” Abby pushes a lock of brown hair out of her face and tries to smile. Peanut sits for a moment and then is back to running around as much as he can on such a short leash. “You know how Frank had that back injury a few years ago? It’s been bugging him, and he got referred to a specialist out near Philly. He’ll be staying with his sister for a while during the treatment. There’s, uh, some really promising stuff happening at Penn.”

Jackie shuts the door and crosses her arms over her chest. One of those overpriced running watches takes up half of her forearm.  “Oh, and he didn’t drive out to Philly?”

“No, he wanted to take the train. Sitting for too long bugs his back. At least on the train, he could get up and walk around every once and awhile.”

In reality, the last week has been a blur. Frank left for his shift on a normal morning and returned to absolute pandemonium with drops of blood still on his face. His phone was ringing constantly. He had tried to explain what was happening in between lengthy calls with HR, Intake Specialists, and his parents. He had - still has - a drug problem. He stole from work, got kicked out, but went back. The hospital had gotten him into the first rehab facility they could. He had wanted Pittsburgh, but Philly was the only option. Besides, at least that was close to his sister. His parents were already on their way. He had to report for intake tomorrow morning at the latest. Could she help pack a bag? Could she make sure that the kids didn’t see him like this? What does she mean that he still has blood on his face?

She swallows. 

“That’s a long ride,” shrugs Jackie. 

“It gave him plenty of time to study. Or at least, that’s what he told me.” Abby’s voice is tight. She can’t really understand how any of this is Jackie’s business. “He has to take Boards at the end of his residency. It’s, thankfully, the last big test of his career.”

“Right. He’s done with that in the summer, right?” A notification lights up the face of Jackie’s watch. 

Abby tries not to wince. “Not quite. Between this leave and the one he had right after he got injured, he’ll, uh, need to do another year of training.” 

“Well, it’ll be nice to have you and the kids around for another year. I thought as soon as Frank was done, you’d be up and out of here.” Jackie pauses for Abby to elaborate. She can’t bring herself to be bothered. “Let me know if you guys need anything. I’d be more than happy to help out with Tanner and Penny. They’re such sweet little kids. They bring so much life to the neighborhood. Cute as a button, too. They look just like Frank.”

Abby’s friends always joked about that. With their dark hair and bright blue eyes, Tanner and Penny looked like Frank’s clones in miniature. The only thing they’d inherited from Abby was the softness of her features. Unlike Frank, the kids shared her full cheeks and soft jaw.

“Yeah, um. Thank you.” Abby steps through the complicated web that Peanut made again. He starts barking at a dull red cardinal that has perched itself on one of the old pine trees that dot Jackie’s yard. “My mom’s staying with us while Frank is away.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were from Kentucky or something, and with Frank being from PA...” Jackie’s voice trails off. “I guess I thought that Bernadette would be here to help.”

“I didn’t know that you knew my mother-in-law.” The words come out harsher than Abby wanted them to, and she bites her lip. It was raw and chapped, and she couldn’t help but shiver as a shock of pain zips down her back.

“I’ve met her a few times. It seemed like she and Frank liked to take walks during the summer when she was visiting. I used to see them when I finally got home from work. She was nice. Reminds me of my own mother, God rest her soul.” Jackie’s eyes tilt upward like she’s searching the skies.

“She is nice. Really nice,” Abby scrambled to make amends. “I’m from Virginia, not Kentucky. My mom drove up here from Richmond. It’s pretty much the same distance as Shickshinny. Besides...”

“You want your mom while your husband is away,” Jackie threw her head back and chuckled. “I get it. My mother-in-law was an angel, a literal saint, the nicest woman I’ve ever met. She used to run a young adult ministry up in Oakland and created a soup kitchen to feed the homeless, the whole nine yards. And I would have picked my mom over her every single time. I think that’s normal for kids.”

Abby hadn’t been a kid in a very long time.

“Although you’re with your kids all day. I’m sure it’s nice to have some help,” comments Jackie. Abby takes a long, slow breath through her nose. Her chest feels tight.

She shrugs. “It’s nice to have my mom here, but I’m excited for Frank to come home at the end of the month.”

“Well, I gotta go before I’m late.” Jackie glances down at her watch, and Abby is so thrilled that tears of joy prickle in her eyes. “Tell him that Kenny and I will be praying for him when you talk to him. And like I said. If you need anything at all, I’m here for you, Abby. Don’t hesitate to knock on the door.”

“Sure. Thank you, Jackie.” 

She can’t put her finger on why, but Abby frowns all the way home. 

If she leaves a quiet home, she returns to chaos. 

Peanut bounds through the house as soon as Abby lets him out of his harness, tracking dry dirt and rocks through the foyer. He knocks over the full bowl of dog food left from the night before, sending it all flying. The smell of burnt toast lingers. Her mother must be awake since Fox News is blaring at a volume Abby and Frank have never reached on their living room television. It competes with the sound of Tanner’s iPad playing a YouTube video at max volume and Penny’s insistent wailing. 

“Mom,” Abby calls as she drifts from the living room to the kitchen. A large portrait of a younger version of Frank and herself on their wedding day, the two of them smiling at the camera in front of the cathedral’s green dome, tracks her as she walks past. “What’s going on?” 

Despite the fact that Penny is sitting on her hip, face red from crying,  her mother looks more pulled together than she does. Her artificially blonde hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. A thin black and white striped top is artfully pushed up at the sleeves, and her white slacks look freshly pressed. Abby can’t remember the last time she wore so much white around two toddlers. Twin cups of coffee, both in Pittsburgh Penguins’ black and gold, sit untouched on the counter. 

“Hi, Abby,” her mother says, leaning over and kissing her cheek. The smell of her mother’s floral perfume overwhelms her for just a minute, and Abby sways a little, nauseated. She’s promptly pulled out of it as Penny grabs onto the necklace that Abby wears daily and yanks. The three birthstones - Tanner’s February Amethyst, Penny’s October Opal, and Frank’s November Citrine - shine in the early morning light. She carefully peels Penny’s tiny fingers off the gold chain before she chokes. “Penny wants to use the blue cup.”

“Blu-oo cup, blu-oo cup,” Penny wails again. Her black curls sway as she thrashes. Abby can feel a migraine brewing behind her eyes. 

“Jesus Christ, Mom, just let her have the damn cup,” Abby mutters as she brings her own cup of coffee up to her lips. It’s as sweet and creamy as she used to take it in high school. Normally, she would have preferred something with a little less sugar, but she’s not complaining. 

“That’s Tanner’s cup.” Abby’s mother grits out as she lowers Penny to the floor. It’s not long before the toddler closes the gap and clings to Abby’s leg. Penny’s fingernails, sharper than Abby usually lets them grow, dug into the flesh of her calf. Abby tries not to wince. 

“It’s a plastic cup. Who cares?” 

“A little boy who is going to be very cranky to see that his younger sister is using it. It won’t be much to you when you’re halfway across this state, but I don’t really want to deal with it.” Her mother picks up the other cup of coffee and takes a sip. She recoils as the hot liquid scalds against her lips. 

“Then nobody gets the cup this morning.” Abby snatches it off the countertop and returns it to the cabinet. Instead, she pulls out some paper cups she had leftover from the Fourth of July party. Neither of the kids had particular attachments to green firecrackers.  “I really couldn’t care less. This is the least of my concerns.” 

“Abby, your argument is with your husband. Not me and certainly not your kids.” Her mom lets out a disappointed huff, and it takes everything within her for Abby not to snap. 

“Sorry, Mom, I’m just stressed.” She takes another long sip of her coffee. There’s a chip on the edge of this mug, still there from when Frank dropped it months ago. Her mother gave her his mug. “Besides, this is not an argument. Frank and I aren’t fighting. I’m on his side.”

“His side. Hm.” Her mother clears her throat. “Are you sure that you want to go?”

Abby’s shoulders sag. “It’s been a week. His parents have already been out to see him twice.”

His parents had gone back a few days later to make sure that he was settled. His mother, Bernadette, called that night in big gulping tears. Frank was settling in fine, but the pills were making him sick. They had only seen him for fifteen minutes before he had to go to the bathroom to throw up. He looked so pale, and he had clearly lost five pounds in as many days. She didn’t understand how he got so sick, and none of them noticed. One of them should have seen something. One of them should have done something.

Abby spent the rest of that night sitting in bed, staring at the wall. 

“His parents are two hours away and don’t have two little kids to take care of. I think there’s a difference.” Her mom points out. At their feet, Penelope has clearly forgotten all about the blue cup. Instead, she’s gnawing on one of Peanut’s tennis balls. Abby doesn’t have the energy to pry it out of her hands. 

“Of course there is, but he’s my husband. I’m going.” She tucks a stray strand of hair back into her updo. She fastens her clip again until it bites into the base of her skull. “In fact, I’m leaving soon, and I’m taking the Bronco. I don't want to get my car out of the garage."

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Her mother gestures down at her outfit. Her socks are mismatched. One is from Nike, the other from Athleta. She won’t make it up the stairs to change. 

“Yeah. I have five to ten hours in the car today. I want to be comfortable.” Abby pulls her Stanley Cup out of the cabinet and crosses the kitchen. She grabs a chunk of ice out of the freezer and fills the cup up with water from the fridge. City water from the tap never bothers Frank, but she hates it. 

“Your father offered to come up here and drive you, Abigail.”

As Frank and his parents pulled out of her driveway, the only thing she could think to do was call her dad. Her dad, a steady ex-police officer, always knew what to do. She expected him to chew Frank out, to say that of course he’d do something like this. Instead, he said, as long as they could bring the dogs, he and her mother could be there by morning. Abby had declined. She needed someone to watch the kids, not a puppy and two old hunting dogs in her tiny urban house. Besides, someone had to stay home and watch the horses. The thirty-acre ranch that Abby grew up on was beautiful, but it was as demanding as another child on her parents’ already full home.  

“I know. I just -. I need to do this myself, okay? This is about Frank and me.” She snaps the lid of her cup closed and grabs her purse off the counter. “Tanner! Come say goodbye to Mommy.”

Tanner trails in. His red oversized iPad cover drags across the ground. He has one sock on and one sock off. His pajamas are getting a little too small for him. He’s growing at a pace that Abby can hardly keep up with. Like her, he has an outie belly button that sits promptly in the little sliver of skin that isn’t covered by his top or bottom.

Big fat tears are trailing down his face, and there’s a trail of snot coming from his nose. 

“Tanner, honey, come here. Why are you crying?” Abby grabs a paper towel and tenderly wipes him clean. Like his sister before him, he grabs at his mother’s leg. It’s something he hasn’t done in years. Only now, looking at him, does she hesitate.

“Can we come with you?” He mumbles quietly, still tired. 

She runs a hand through his soft, dark hair. “Not right now, but I promise you’ll be able to see Daddy as soon as he’s feeling better.” 

“Does Daddy miss us?”

Abby drops to her knees and takes her son’s tiny face into her palms. Frank’s eyes look back at her.  “Pumpkin, your daddy misses you so, so, so much. He can't wait to see you again, but he needs to get better before he can do that. I’m going to help him feel better today. In the meantime, promise you’ll be good for Nana.”

“I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to be by myself.” He buries himself in her chest. He’s getting Frank’s sweatshirt dirty, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

“Aww, honey, I’ll be back tomorrow at the very latest, and Daddy will be home as soon as he can. In the meantime, you’ve got Penny and Nana and Peanut here with you.” Abby points up to her own mother now, who’s carrying Penelope on her hip. Penny, none the wiser, gives her brother a toothy smile around the tennis ball she keeps chewing. 

“We’ll have lots of fun, Tanny. I promise.”

“Can we go see a movie?” Tanner finally peels himself out of Abby’s arms. 

“I don’t see why not,” her mother responds. There’s a touch of a Southern accent that comes out when her mother is truly happy, and it sets Abby at ease. She takes another sip of her water bottle.

She pulls her crossbody over her chest and rolls her shoulders back. “I gotta go. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me. There should be some cash in the dish near the door. That should be more than enough for a movie. Tanner’s gotta eat something with substance, though, before he has popcorn and soda.” 

“No, no. It’s my treat. Drive safe, Abby. Please call me when you get there.” Her mother leans over to kiss her cheek. “We love you. We’ll always love you.”

She takes one last look at her family before she turns and walks back out the front door. Almost as if she’s on autopilot, she adjusts the mirrors and the seat. She connects her phone, turns on a playlist she made years ago, and peels out of her driveway. Before she really realizes it, she’s down the interstate. 

She goes through her text messages as she drives. Her phone has kept up at the usual volume, but she hasn’t had much time or energy to answer anyone over the past week. The little message notification tab has climbed up and up until it reached fifty unread text messages. Siri’s off-tune voice reads one after another.

$894.87 was taken out this week for Frank’s student loan payment. 

Her cousin Susanna is annoyed because her husband signed them up to run Bingo at their church this weekend without realizing that their daughter, Stephanie, had a dance competition. 

PECO took out $193.59 for their monthly electric payment.

Her sorority sister Kate wanted to know if anyone was interested in planning a Caribbean cruise to celebrate their thirty-fifth birthdays.

Tanner’s dentist appointment was coming up next week. 

Frank’s sister Nancy was offering her apartment if Abby needed a place to stay tonight. She’d be at work, but her boyfriend Connor still worked from home. He’d be happy to let her in whenever she wanted to show up. 

Comcast took $75 for their monthly WiFi package. 

She doesn’t respond to any of them. She presses the button on the smart screen to have Siri run through her messages one more time just to be sure. 

It’s been nearly a week, and she hasn’t heard from anyone at PTMC. She’s checked her phone and Frank’s every day. In fact, his cell with its utilitarian black case is sitting in her purse now. She bites down on her lip and presses down further on the accelerator. The GPS tells her that she’ll be at the facility in forty-five minutes

She knows that Frank and his coworkers weren’t like her own, back when she had a job. They didn’t hang out much socially. When you worked with people for a hundred hours a week, she could understand that you’d want some space from them. Still, she couldn’t understand how they hadn’t reached out. If not all of them, at least Yolanda and Robby. 

She’d lost count of the number of times that Yolanda bummed a ride off of Frank or needed a place to crash after the shift that was supposed to end at seven ended at one in the morning. It wasn’t uncommon for her to sleep for a few hours on their couch and then for her and Frank to crawl back for their shift that started at seven the next morning. She had dinner with them. She met their kids. The two of them weren’t exactly friends, but Abby had come to really like her. She was someone who was smart, capable, personable - the exact kind of doctor she’d want to see if she was ever in the ER.

And Robby.

Frank idolizes Robby. If anyone should have reached out and let her know that something was going on, it should have been him. A few weeks ago, besides her and his parents, she would have said with complete confidence that Robby was one of the people who knew Frank best.

He had her number. She could never forget the day that she gave it to him. It had been a muggy Pittsburgh July. Abby had been nearly three months pregnant at the time, nauseated and dizzy constantly. Dr. Robby had brought her a cold bottle of water as she sat underneath the awning at some local park and was sure to share his cell number. Residency, he explained, was apparently tough on the whole family. Maybe, he laughed self-depreciatingly, that’s why none of his relationships ever worked out. Abby swallowed the bile rising in her throat and tried to smile. Frank, meanwhile, was off wining and dining the other brand-new residents and their supervising attendings at the kick-off picnic. 

It was the culmination of their Orientation Week, an easy way to blow off steam and get to know each other. Through the week, the new residents had toured the facilities, gotten ID badges, bought overpriced scrubs, settled into new apartments and condos, and had the next four years of their lives outlined for them. Next week, Abby’s brand-new husband, who she’d met freshman year of college playing beer pong, would be responsible for literally saving lives. She had swallowed again. Meanwhile, Frank beamed back at her. She’d never seen him so happy. 

The only thing that soothes her is the idea that maybe they can’t reach out. Maybe there’s some kind of investigation going on at the hospital that she’ll learn about later. Maybe when that’s finished, they’ll explain everything that’s been going on. Maybe someone could help Abby put together the scattered pieces of her life. 

She’s so lost in thought that she nearly misses the exit. She has to drag the Bronco across several lanes of traffic, rewarded with honks that cut through the rural tranquility, as she pulls up to a sprawling complex. 

With its gabled roofs and pastel paint, it looks more like a historic museum or the country club her father used to go to when she was younger than a rehab. Just beyond the main entrance and the parking lot, clusters of people - families? patients? - wander around looping trails. A family of ducks sits contentedly in the sun next to a large man-made pond. The trees that frame the property are just starting to turn a delicate shade of gold. An artful display of pumpkins and dried cornstalks is there to greet Abby as she slips into the front doors. 

“Hi. I’m here to see Francis Langdon,” Abby stops at the front desk. In the waiting room, a dozen worn men and women scroll through their phones or flip absentmindedly through year-old magazines. All of them share the same dark circles under their eyes. She’s shocked by how full it is for a Saturday morning. It feels silly to her now, but she had expected to be the only person here.

“I’ll go grab Dr. Davis. In the meantime, two things. First, I’ll need a copy of your driver’s license for us to make your visitor badge. In the meantime, you need to take off anything that can be used as a weapon.” The receptionist tells her sweetly.

Abby can feel herself go pale. “Weapons?”

“Anything that someone could use to hurt themselves or others. That’ll include all of your jewelry. If you’ve got shoes with laces, you’ll have to take those off. It doesn’t look like your sweatshirt or pants have strings or belts, so that’s good. If your bra has an underwire, we suggest you take that off too. We have lockers around the corner and a bathroom if you need some privacy to change. Any questions?” The girl stands to leave, and Abby shakes her head. She stands rooted in place as she watches the girl buzz into a series of locked doors behind the front desk. 

Her shoes are still her slippers from the morning, thankfully. She slips them off and pads around the corner to a series of open cubbies next to the Security Checkpoint. She carefully pulled off the tiny gold hoops she wore all the time and unclasped the necklace. Her rings were the last to go, carefully tucked into the zipper pocket of her purse. She feels uncomfortably dressed down, naked, as she shuffles from side to side. Her throat feels dry.

A woman, Dr. Davis presumably, emerges from behind a heavy door. Her face is free from makeup, making her look younger. Her hair is cropped close to her head, and a pair of delicate studs dot her earlobes. She’s smiling in a soft way that reminds Abby of her third-grade teacher and her first Labor and Delivery Nurse. She hands Abby a bright yellow sticker marked ‘VISITOR’ in all caps. She presses it against her chest, just above her heart. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Langdon. I wish it were under better circumstances.” Dr. Davis holds out an elegant hand, deep red polish perfectly shiny. Abby’s most recent manicure has peeled off her nails, leaving nothing but black chunks of polish in awkward splotches. 

“Abby, please.” She falls in line as Dr. Davis starts to drift down a hallway. Her orthopedic shoes, the kind that Frank would never be caught dead in, make a loud thump that echo off a dozen identical doors. 

“Abby, then.” Dr. Davis stops outside a door labeled Visitor Room #9. 

Something flutters in Abby’s stomach. She’s known Frank since they were eighteen years old. She’s seen him nearly every single day since they moved into that first overpriced studio in Ann Arbor at twenty-two. He held her hand as she gave birth, practically buck naked. She wiped his ass when he couldn’t after he tweaked his back. She can’t understand why she feels so nervous. 

“Frank has been telling me how much he’s looking forward to your visit,” Dr. Davis starts. “However, there are some things I want you to be aware of before you head in there.”

“Aware of?” Abby repeats dumbly. 

“Seeing your loved one for the first time during detox can be...a shock. Some people find it very upsetting.” Dr. Davis fidgets with her own wedding ring, a simple silver band.

“Upsetting?”

“Yes. Frank’s parents were here earlier this week, and they found the physical changes that Frank had gone through to be very difficult to tolerate. Although, to be fair, I think he was going through the worst of it when they were here.” 

“I,” Abby bites down on her lip as she feels a blush creeping up her throat. “I couldn’t make it earlier in the week. We have two kids, and I needed my mom to come and watch them. She’s a retired teacher, but she still works as a paraeducator sometimes.” 

“I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean to imply anything,” says Dr. Davis softly, and Abby believes her. “I’m just worried you’d have the same reaction.”

“What does Frank look like?”

There’s a window at the very top of the door. It’s clearly laced with reinforced metal. Abby thinks that if she stands on her tippy toes, like she had all those years for ballet, she would be able to see through it. She’s too afraid of what she might find on the other side. 

“Frank is going through a lot of what we expect during the detox process. It depends on how graphic you want me to get.”

“I can handle it.” Abby hopes it comes across as confident, even if that’s the last thing that she feels. “I’ve heard a lot about the human body from my husband, and I have two toddlers.”

“Sure,” Dr. Davis rests her hand on the doorknob. Abby feels a shot of adrenaline shoot through her. “Frank has a lot of GI symptoms - nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite. That’s normal for this process, but it has caused some pretty significant weight loss. Once he’s feeling better, he should put that weight back on. Sweating and elevated body temperature are normal as well. So is anxiety and irritability. We’re carefully monitoring him to make sure that he’s safe, but these can be difficult challenges to deal with both personally and physically.” 

“Um, thank you.” She shifts from foot to foot again. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Abby shakes her head in response to Dr. Davis’ question. “Okay, then I think you’re ready. You’ll have an hour together. However, I also understand that this can be a lot for both of you. If either you or Frank wants to cut this visit early, there’s absolutely no problem with that. There’s a button underneath the desk. If you press it, one of the staff members will come to get you. No problem at all. I’m going to open the door now. We’ll be back when you have a few minutes left so you can say your goodbyes.” 

Dr. Davis swings the door open, and Abby hears nothing but the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears. 

There is a moment where she is standing in the entrance to the room, and Frank is sitting there looking at her. His mouth is slightly open, and he looks like he hasn't slept all week. The hair he usually wore pushed back with pomade hung limply over his forehead. He is wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of gym shorts, one from his high school cross country team and the other from his college frat, which hung loosely off his frame. The sweatshirt is pushed up to his elbows, and Abby is shocked by how prominent and delicate the bones in his wrists look. He looks paler than she’s ever seen him. His face is so white it almost looks like he’s a ghost in a low-budget student play. 

Despite all that, Frank still has the boyish charm that she first fell in love with. She first met him at a Club Cross Country mixer. Her roommate was on the girls’ team, and Frank was on the boys ' team. He was thin, too, then, before his own roommate got him into weightlifting during their sophomore year. His hair was longer, and he waved the green Yuengling bottle that he was drinking out of around as he was explaining why chocolate milk was the perfect post-workout. He was sharp, self-confident, warm, and when he looked at her, it was the first time it felt like someone actually saw her. 

She wonders what those kids would think of them now. 

“Baby!”

Before she knows it, Frank has crossed the room. His thin arms are wrapped around her. She wraps her hands around his back, and she can feel the ridges of his spine underneath her fingertips. He dots featherlight kisses across her face, catching her cheeks, her eyelids, her jaw. He smells sour and acidic, like he had a fever that just broke. Still, it’s her husband, and he’s alive and safe, and before she knows it, Abby feels tears track their way down her cheeks. 

Frank bundles her across the room to the table. A thick blue copy of the NA Basic Text sits open. It’s heavily highlighted and annotated. Another time, another place, and Abby would have thought that it was one of his many medical textbooks. The table itself is a warm fake wood, and there are plenty of soothing landscapes and seascapes hung up around the room in matching frames. If the chairs and table weren’t bolted to the floor, it would almost be a nice room.

“Abby, baby, I love you. I’ve missed you so much. I miss the kids so much, Jesus. How are Tanner and Penny?” Frank finally breaks their silence. Tears flood his bright blue eyes. The whites are already streaked red and bloodshot. Abby doesn’t know if he’s been crying or if that’s just another symptom of the withdrawal. 

Tanner and Penny are fine. They don’t understand this. Tanner and Penny are not fine. They know that Mommy and Daddy aren’t home. They know that Daddy is sick and Mommy is scared. They should tell them the truth. They should keep it from the kids right now at all costs. 

Abby opens her mouth and shuts it again.

“You lied to me.”

The words shock Abby even as they come out of her own mouth. Still, she can’t help as the rest of them rush out of her. 

“I understand why you didn’t tell the hospital or Robby. I understand why you didn’t tell your parents or your sister. But I can’t understand why you didn’t tell me. Why did you lie to me?”

Something comes over Frank’s face, something that Abby had never seen before. He sits up straight and laces his hands in front of himself. His wrists bump against the edge of the table in a way that looks painful. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right.” She shakes her head. “I don’t.”

The words hang between them. Abby desperately looks around for a clock, but there is none. She has no idea how long the two of them sit in silence. 

She picks at the skin on her left hand. It feels uncharacteristically light without her rings. She hadn’t taken them off for any extended period of time in nearly eight years. A quote comes to her mind. “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”

“Ephesians, right? I’ve been gone for a week, Abs. Didn’t know you became such a big Bible thumper in the past seven days.” Frank can’t help but chuckle. Something like anger boils up in Abby’s throat. 

“That’s what they said during our wedding, which was in a Catholic church like your parents wanted us to do.” Abby curls her toes against the laminate flooring. The cold seeps past her thin crew socks. “And Ephesians was quoting Genesis.”

Frank leans all the way back in his chair and lets his head hang. It exposes the long pale column of his neck. There are a few nicks from when he last shaved. “Well, excuse me. So sorry you didn't get the beach wedding you wanted. Let me get right on that.” 

“This is so fucking stupid that we’re arguing about this.” Abby takes a moment to bury her face in her hands. Tears burn, and she blinks rapidly. When she finally puts her hands back down, Frank is looking at her. The same unreadable expression is on his face. “You know this isn’t about the wedding. It’s about you and me. We’re supposed to be a team. I’m supposed to help you. I want to help you.”

“Help me?” The unreadable expression morphs into shock and then anger. A fresh wave of nausea rolls through Abby. “You’ve never even asked about me. A fucking intern figured out something was wrong with me within six hours. You and I live together, and you never said anything.”

“Because I don’t see you, Frank!” Abby exhales, defeated. “You leave for work at 5:30 in the morning, and you don’t get home until seven or eight at night. Then you get Tanner and Penny to bed, reheat leftovers. and then go to bed. I can’t remember the last time we’ve had sex or even an adult conversation.”

“Yeah, Abby, shockingly, being a resident is really demanding of my time,” Frank crosses his arms tightly over his chest. A greasy strand of hair hangs between both his eyes, and even like this, Abby wants to reach up and push it behind his ear. She wants to cup his jaw in her hand. 

Instead, she balls her hands into fists in front of her. 

“No. No, absolutely not. You don’t get to bitch about this. I moved away from my friends, my parents, and my job so you could do this. I followed you to medical school and then to residency. I take care of the kids, the house, and the finances, so you get to do this. I take care of all the hard stuff - the cooking, the cleaning, the haircuts and doctor’s appointments, the discipline - so you get to be a fun dad when you get home. Everything in your life, my life, and the kids’ lives is oriented so you get to go be a doctor. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“Do you want to know the truth?” Frank leans forward, meeting her halfway. There are hardly two inches between them. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

“I’m not even sure I’m a good doctor.” He shrugs and collapses back down in his chair, deflated. “You’re right. I gave up everything in my life to do this, and I don’t even know if I’m good at it.”

“Frank.” 

There is a shelf in their home dedicated to the series of awards that Frank won. Best Undergraduate Research Project, Biology Major Class Marshall, Chi Psi Humanitarian Award, President’s Award for Academic Achievement, Student Scholarship Service Award, three-time poster presentation “Best in Conference.” The list was practically endless. The glass awards and gold medals were packed in there to the extent that there was no more space. And Frank wanted to say he was a bad doctor.

“What? It’s the truth. In some sort of delusional way, I thought the drugs were making me better. But obviously, that’s not true. I don’t even know why I ever thought that.” He shrugs. As he moves his shoulders, she can see how much of the bulk on his frame is just the gathering of the heavy fabric. 

“Better?” The thought is so ridiculous that Abby couldn’t even attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “I thought these were for you back.”

“They were, at first. And then I realized that it didn’t just dull the pain. It dulled everything, and that made things easier.” Frank places his hands down so they’re flat on the table. She looks down to see the beds of his cuticles picked over and bleeding. 

“Easier?” Abby hates these one-worded questions she keeps asking, but she can’t stop herself. She hears the words but can’t comprehend a thing that he’s saying.

“The week when I came back to work after tweaking my back, a six-month-old baby died in my arms. He, uh, - his mom left him in the house to go on a week-long vacation with her new boyfriend in Aruba. The, uh, Christ, what are they called?” Frank’s brows knit together. There was a cluster of beads of sweat that pooled around his temples. His hair is plastered to his face. He ran a shaking hand down his hollow cheeks. “The mailman brought him in after he heard a baby crying inside the apartment despite the pile of mail outside the door. It was, uh, nice. Kind. Heroic, I guess. But there was nothing we, I, could do.” 

Abby, despite herself, reached out and grabbed his hand. His pale fingers trembled in her grip.

“That was the kind of thing that would have messed me up for a week before. I would have seen Tanner and Penny in my hands, lifeless. It would affect my ability to sleep, to do my job. On this stuff, I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything at all. I just put it in a box, and I was able to just move on.” 

Abby takes a deep breath, but she can’t stop the tears that flow down her face. She imagines her own babies at six months. It all passed by too quickly, those halcyon days. The fog of postpartum had finally lifted. Life felt a little bit easier. Tanner and Penny were old enough by month six to develop their own little personalities. Tanner loved to get into everything, to babble to himself. Penny was an observer. She looked around at everything and gave everyone she met a bright, toothless smile. They were so sweet, so innocent. She couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt them. She could almost feel her chest crack open.

Across from her, her husband sits stoically

“Is that the way that you want to feel? You want to feel nothing?” She can barely speak through the emotion that threatens to choke her.

“It was better than the alternative.” Frank shrugs like it all means nothing. “That’s one story out of hundreds. The gunshot wounds, the overdoses, the car accidents, the neglect, the abuse - it was day in and day out. You know what was even worse? All the people that we saw too late. An infected cut could be easily treated with antibiotics. It’s a drug called Zosyn. You push a little under four grams every six hours, send them up to the ICU or MedSurg, and they’re home in a few weeks. Wait a couple of weeks - maybe because you can’t afford it, maybe because you have no one to watch your kids or your elderly dad, maybe because you don’t have insurance -, and now you’re in septic shock. Now there’s a fifty/fifty shot you die no matter what we do. I’m tired, Abby.”

Abby uses both hands to rub the tears out of her eyes. Still, everything within her feels raw. “You wanted to do this, Frank. You only ever wanted to be an Emergency Room doctor. That’s all you ever talked about. It’s everything you ever worked for.”

“I wanted to save people’s lives.”

“You do.”

“Not everyone.”

“No doctor can save everyone, Frank. You’re not God.” She rubs at her temples as she tries not to snap at him. “I don’t understand where any of this is coming from. You’ve never said anything like this before. I know it’s hard, but it always seemed like you were handling it.”

“I don’t know how much more you want me to handle. I work. I’m teaching the interns because Robby and Heather and whatever weird shit they have going on between them can't seem to be bothered.  I pay all the bills. I’m with the kids. I’m with you. I help my parents and my sister. When I’m home, I’m taking Tanner to tee-ball and cooking dinner. I don’t know how much more you all want from me.” Frank drives his nail into his thumb, and Abby can see a bead of blood start to form.

“I never wanted you to handle all of this on your own. You’ve just never talked about this to me before.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Frank pulls his thumb up to his mouth and bites off the hangnail left behind.

“You never even gave me a chance to try,” whines Abby bitterly. Before she can control it, more tears are flowing down her cheeks. She buries part of her face into her shoulder. She had never been embarrassed to cry in front of Frank before today. Now, she can’t stand to look him in the eye.

“No,” Frank reaches out to squeeze her hand. He ran his other hand through his hair. Underneath the table, his leg jostled at a mile a minute. The force made him practically vibrate in his chair. If it hadn’t been bolted down to the floor, Abby would have imagined that Frank would have pushed himself halfway across the room. “I guess I didn’t.”

Another moment of silence drags on.

“So what are we going to do, baby?”

“I don’t know.” She slowly pulls her hand away from him. “You know, Frank, all of you’ve talked about since I got here was your job.”

“What?” Frank frowns.

Finally, it’s Abby’s turn to speak. The words again come tumbling out of her before she has the chance to even think about what she’s saying.

“You took pills because you wanted to be a better doctor. And you know what? Maybe they did help you with that. Maybe it did make you a better doctor to be this unfeeling machine. Maybe you were able to do what you needed to do without getting caught up in all the pain and suffering. I get that I’ll never understand. I was only a Marketing major, after all. It’s been years since I’ve worked.”

Frank’s blue eyes narrow at her. “I’ve never said anything about that. When you said you wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, I never-.”

“No one ever asked me if I wanted to do that.” She cuts him off. 

She had loved her job as a Marketing Manager at a local firm in Ann Arbor. She loved going into work, going out for drinks with her coworkers, having something to work towards, something that she could be proud of. Once she found out that she was pregnant and they were moving, it didn’t make sense for her to go back to work. It was just after COVID, and they weren’t sure if daycare was the safest place for an infant. Besides, almost her entire paycheck would go to childcare. She’d add more work to her life with little reward. 

“Okay, you want to get a job. Go get a job. I’d happily support you in that if that’s what you want to do. We technically don’t have an income right now,” Franks says blithely. They won’t have a paycheck coming in for months, and Frank’s acting like he’s describing the weather. 

“Yeah, and whose fucking fault is that?” Abby nearly screams. “Besides, I don’t know if I’d leave the kids alone with you right now.”

“Excuse me,” snaps Frank, his voice corrosive. 

 “You said you were a better doctor, but did the pills make you a better husband? A better father?”

“Abby -,.” Frank opens his mouth like he wants to say more. Instead, he turns in on himself completely. He buries his face in his hands and lets out the most guttural sob that Abby has ever heard in her life. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Yet, she feels frozen in place.

“Don’t lie to me again. We both know what the answer is.”

“Baby, please,” gulps Frank. “The kids never saw this. I was never ever high around them. I swear on their lives that I never took anything stronger than a Tylenol on the days off that I had with them. You’ve got to know that I would never do anything like this to our kids.”

Abby shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know who you are or what you’re capable of anymore. The guy I married, the guy I fell in love with, would have never ever done this kind of shit.”  

Outside the door, a guard knocks. A five-minute warning, Abby figures. She makes a motion to stand, toes curling, but Frank grabs her arm. Even like this, he’s still relatively strong. He’s grabbing her harder than he thinks he is. She feels pinned in place. 

“I don’t have anything else to say other than I’m sorry. I’m trying to fix it. I’m trying to make it right. I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice is hardly louder than a whisper, but it still echoes off the empty walls. Tears again are threatening to spill over. 

She rests her hand over his. He tightens his grasp on her, and Abby sways again. She feels heady with grief and anger and something deeper, hotter, too. “I do love you, Frank.”

“I love you, too. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.” He stands up to join her. They should only have a few minutes left.

She doesn’t protest as his hand moves up her arm until he’s grasping her by her shoulders. He pulls her closer, and she can hear the hummingbird rhythm of his heart underneath her ear. She tilts her head up, and the two of them flush together. He looks down to meet her, and before she knows it, he’s kissing her in a way that he hasn’t in a very long time. He wedges a leg in between her thighs as he tilts her chin further back. Heat builds in her stomach.

For all he’s done, he’s Frank. He’s Frank and he’s hers and he’s still alive. She knows how close he was to the precipice between life and death. She might not be a doctor, but she’s not stupid. She knows how close she was to losing him forever. She twists the fabric of his sweatshirt in her hand and tries to memorize the way his body feels under her palms. 

They don’t even hear the security guard swing the door open. It’s not until he tactfully clears his throat that they jump apart like two teenagers getting caught by their parents. 

“Call me when you get home?” Frank wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. Abby pulls her own sweatshirt further down.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know. I think I might stay over tonight. Long drive.” She stops briefly to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as she walks over to follow the guard out.

“Sure.” That’s the last thing he says to her in person until he returns from rehab. 

Abby waits until she’s halfway to Lancaster before she calls her mom. She carefully puts her jewelry back on. She fixes her hair. She walks herself out to the car and safely gets back on the turnpike. Frank has left the radio on a country music station, and the music they both remember from their childhood accompanies her towards home. 

“How’d it go?” Her mom asks breathlessly. Fox News is still blaring in the background. She can hear Penny and Tanner squabbling over something, a toy most likely, over the commentator’s nasally tone. 

Abby can’t respond with anything other than a sob. Her eyes flood with tears, and the crowded highway becomes nothing but a collection of watercolor dots.

“Abby?” Panic is rising in her mother’s tone. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Is Frank okay?”

“It’s over.” Abby rubs her face into her shoulder again and clears out the tears. She takes another deep breath, but it comes out ragged. On her end, George Strait croons out a song about old troubadours.

“He asked you for a divorce?” An old fighting spirit that Abby hasn’t heard in years comes back with a vengeance. Her mother’s accent suddenly becomes thick and fast. “You know your daddy always said that Frank had gumption, and he always meant that as a good thing. I always thought that he was a little too big for his britches. He wants too much out of life, and he’s finally bitten off more than he can chew. Then to turn around, from rehab, of all places, and suggest that y’all should -.”

“It’s not like that,” she cuts her off. Abby rolls down the window slightly. It’s later in the day, and the air has taken on its crisp fall quality. It feels like being dunked in ice water. She rolls it down even further.

“You asked him for a divorce?”  That is enough to stop her mother in her tracks. She starts to backpedal with surprising speed. “Sweetheart, I’ll support you in whatever you wanna do, but maybe you should get on your feet first. You don’t have a job. Both of the cars are in his name. Tanner just started school in Pittsburgh a month ago. Y’all just started paying on this house. Let’s not jump the gun.”

“No, it’s not like that either.” Abby shook her head despite the fact that no one could see her.

“Then what’s it like?”

“Mom, I love him so much. I love our kids and our life together and everything we’ve built.”

“So then what’s the problem, sweetheart?”

“It’s over.” A sob threatens to cut her off, but she manages to swallow it. “Those people - that Abby and that Frank and that version of our family. It’s over. It’s gone. They aren’t coming back. I don’t know this Frank. I don’t even know myself.” 

There’s a tenderness over the phone that almost makes Abby want to start crying again. She wants nothing more than to be curled up in bed next to her mother’s side. She wants someone to rub her hair, to make sure she is washed and fed and loved. “You’re a good wife and a good mother.”

“And what else? What else have I been for the past six years? What am I right now?”

It’s odd to be flying down the highway. The Bronco has nearly reached ninety miles per hour. She’s a wife, but she won’t be able to see her husband again for at least three weeks. She’s a mother, but she’s not with her kids right now. All the labels and the plans that she had made for herself were crumbling around her. 

“Abby, what are you talking about? I don’t know how you want me to answer that.” 

She doesn’t know what she wants either. 

“Can you watch the kids overnight?” She asks as she switches lanes.

She can hear her mom pad over to the kitchen and start opening the cabinet drawers. Penny lets out an earsplitting wail. “Why? You’re not going to Frank’s sister’s house, are you?”

She feels almost guilty for not stopping over in Philly. Although Nancy is in her mid-twenties with a serious boyfriend and a career all her own, she can only think of her as a junior bridesmaid at her wedding. She had hardly been a teenager as she walked towards her brother carrying a baby blue bouquet. She had danced to Taylor Swift with Abby’s niece. She couldn’t stop giggling as Abby and her sister snuck Nancy a small glass of champagne as they were getting ready that morning. None of this was Nancy’s fault, but she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing her in the same way she couldn’t see her kids. She needed to get away from those blue eyes tonight.

“No, I’m stopping at a Hilton or whatever on the turnpike.”

“Those places are dirty,” her mother pronounces.

“I just need some time and space to think, Mom. Besides, um, I’m not really up to making the drive home.”

“I knew I should have convinced your father to drive you.” Abby can hear her mom walking again. There’s a rustling sound, and all of a sudden, Penny’s coos and babbling are much closer. Abby’s body physically starts to ache.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mom,” she says. Though she's not sure who she's trying to convince - her mother or herself.

“What you’re going through is hard, Abby. No one would think less of you if you wanted someone to be in your corner. Promise me you’ll give me a call before you go to sleep.” There’s a lull in the conversation. “I love you.”

Abby turns on her blinker as the Hilton sign lights up in neon. “I love you too.”

Her mom is right. The dingy little room they give her on the third floor isn't exactly clean. She has no toiletries other than the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bolted to the inside of the shower, and a cheap plastic toothbrush the bored kid working the front desk gives her. It's good enough for her to make do. As soon as she gets up to her room, she strips herself naked and stands under the burning hot shower until the water runs cold. Then she dries herself off, brushes her teeth once more, and throws on Frank's oversized sweatshirt. It'll need a good wash, she thinks as she pulls up the sheets to her chin. It's covered in tears and sweat and God knows what else. Still, right now, it's the most comforting thing she owns.

Abby doesn't call her mother or her husband, although she knows she should do both.

Instead, she falls into another dreamless sleep. Somewhere between sleeping and waking, around three in the morning, she rolls over and can't help but wonder where that damn dog went.

She misses him.