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The party is in full swing by the time Mel shows up with Samira. It’s a little strange being in her boss’s house—Robby had graciously offered it when McKay declared she wanted to throw Frank a going-away party—but she’ll take it over a noisy, crowded bar any day.
There’s a banner hanging over Robby’s fireplace that reads, “Good luck, Frank!” and a string of photos of him with his coworkers, Mel included, along the mantle. It makes her heart ache a little, seeing the display, how loved he is and how missed he’s going to be, most of all by her.
Realistically, she’s known this day was a possibility since he came back, over a year ago now. Sure, PTMC had been gracious in letting him finish out his residency, but there had been no guarantee that he’d be allowed to stay as an attending. There’d been a few months of hope—after he’d finished, they’d taken him on part-time, but he’d been met with a brick wall when he inquired about transitioning to full-time. So he’d pivoted, applying to Presby and a few other hospitals around the area, but couldn’t seem to get his foot in the door anywhere.
And then Abby got the phone call. Her father, diagnosed with stage three lung cancer. She wants to move back to Seattle and help take care of him, Frank had said, sitting on Mel’s couch with his head in his hands. And she wants to take the kids, too.
Mel felt like someone had punched her, the wind knocked out of her chest in an instant. She knew immediately what that meant. Frank would be going, too. When she said it out loud, voice trembling despite her best efforts, Frank looked over at her with a heartbroken expression on his face, but he didn’t tell her she was wrong.
“God, I don’t want to,” he said, his hands briefly reaching for her before he pulled back, setting them on his knees again. She was grateful; she wasn’t sure she could handle him touching her right then, not when she knew she’d start wondering, How many more times until it’s the last time?
“We weren’t supposed to be here forever,” he admitted. “When I first started my residency, I promised Abby we could try to move back and I’d find an attending position there. Now seems like a good time as any, especially with the trouble I’ve been having finding a permanent position. And my parents live in Oregon, so I’ll be closer to them too.” He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I can’t separate the kids from Abby. And I can’t let my kids move across the country without me.”
And Mel understood. How could she not? Frank’s kids were everything to him. The tumultuous year or so after he got caught had been hell for many reasons, but especially because he hadn’t been able to see his kids at all before they’d moved on to supervised visits, a slow, treacherous progression to the joint custody agreement he and Abby had now.
Mel was selfish enough to want him to stay, but not selfish enough to say it out loud. So she’d reached over and placed a hand on his wrist, the one with the friendship bracelets from his kids and his sobriety bracelet. He’d looked at her again, and Mel was startled to find that his eyes were glassy.
“Frank,” she said, “you have to do what’s best for you and your family. We’ll all miss you, but we’ll understand.”
He’d placed his other hand over hers and squeezed tightly, smiling gratefully at her. Mel had smiled back, even though her heart was breaking into a million pieces.
Now, four months later, it’s Frank’s last night in Pittsburgh before he takes his car, U-Haul trailer attached, and drives across the country to Abby and the kids, who made the move two weeks earlier. Mel is already dreading the end of the night when they’ll have to say goodbye.
Mel and Samira head over to the food table, where an impressive display of appetizers and snacks is laid out. Through the door leading from the living room to the backyard, Mel can see Robby and Abbot standing by the grill, keeping an eye on some burgers and hot dogs by the looks of it.
“It’s gonna be so weird not seeing Frank spinning around the floor all the time,” Samira says as she hands Mel a plate and starts loading up her own. “I swear, I’ve never seen someone as good at slipping through a crowded room as him.”
“It’s called skills,” a voice says from behind them. They both turn to see Frank, grinning at them arrogantly.
Samira scoffs, turning back to the food. “Won’t miss that cockiness,” she mutters, but Frank still hears it and laughs.
“Sure you will, Mohan. But I’ll do you a solid and pretend you don’t care about me so you won’t have to admit you’ll miss me. My parting gift to you.” Samira only responds by flipping him off over her shoulder before walking away. He laughs again before focusing on Mel, his face softening into a gentle smile.
“Hi,” he says, touching her elbow. “You okay?”
She nods, swallowing the lump that had been forming in her throat watching him with Samira. The three of them had become sort of a trio after Frank came back, barring the first couple of months when he’d had to come to terms with Samira being the new senior resident. Mel suspected they’d initially decided to be civil for her sake, then eventually became friends, which was more than they’d been even before he left for rehab.
It’s not going to be like this ever again, Mel thought, then abruptly pushed that away. She was not going to cry at his going-away party. She’d told herself this at least ten times in her mirror before Samira picked her up.
“Just hungry,” Mel says, hoping Frank will let it go. Mercifully, he does, though not without a concerned glance at her before he offers to get her a drink.
Mel sets her plate down on the table and takes several deep breaths once he’s gone.
***
When Frank first came back, almost everyone had avoided him at all costs. Robby certainly wasn’t looking at him or talking to him, and neither was Dana, beyond necessity. The new med students and interns had clearly heard the rumors, giving him suspicious looks and only talking to him whenever no other resident or attending was available. Even the nurses he’d always gotten along with, teased and joked around with, regarded him civilly, like he was a stranger. Mel would never forget the relieved look on his face, the slump of his shoulders releasing a bit of the weight, when she’d come up to him and asked if he wanted to check out a leg fracture with her that first day.
I don’t know if I belong anymore, he’d confessed to her one night, just a couple of weeks after he returned, when she found him smoking out in the ambulance bay. Or maybe I never did.
This night and this party, bittersweet as it is, is showing him otherwise, showing him how many people care about him. Mel watches him on the couch as she sits between Dana and Samira, nursing a cup of sangria. She’s never seen him smile or laugh as much as he has tonight, and it makes her heart squeeze tight in her chest. His face is flushed and happy and grateful, and she knows this is more than he could have ever hoped for.
Everyone’s gathered in the living room, voices loud and rowdy and overlapping with laughter as people recount their favorite memories with Frank. He’s taking it all in good spirits, even when the conversation involved teasing him about his cockiness during his intern year—“His intern year? What about every year after that?” Dana had joked, spurring a round of laughter—and how insufferable and big-headed he’d been.
On the tail end of another memory, Frank stands, clearing his throat. His hands fiddle with the drink he’s holding, and he suddenly looks shy as he starts talking.
“For those of you who may know me—” A few laughs ring out, making him smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway. You may know I’m not a very sentimental person. At least not in public.” He looks down at his drink, shifting on his feet, then back up at the room. “The past few years have…not been the easiest. I had a lot to work on and a lot to make up for. I know I wasn’t always the best person or the easiest person to work with, but I want you all to know that I’m extremely grateful for any time we’ve spent together. Having this party and having you all here truly means the world to me.” He takes the time to look at every person in the room, gaze lingering on Mel just a second longer than everyone else before he moves on.
“So, thank you, for giving me the chance to grow, and for being here.” He raises his cup in the air in a toast. “Now please drink up so you can all forget witnessing that sappy speech.”
The room starts clapping, and Frank’s cheeks turn red as he swipes his fingers under his eyes. The first person to go up to him is Robby, who claps a hand on his shoulder firmly before pulling him into a tight hug.
Frank freezes for a moment before his arms go around Robby, too. Robby’s saying something in Frank’s ear, and Frank’s nodding, his eyes watering again. When they pull apart, Robby keeps a hand on the side of Frank’s neck, shaking him gently as he gives him some parting words.
Thanks, Robby, Mel reads from Frank’s lips as he smiles shakily.
Frank told her before, one of his late-night hushed confessionals on her couch after they’d finished a movie, how he didn’t know if there was a way to ever repair the relationship between him and Robby. How he knew how betrayed Robby had felt, but how hurt he’d been by Robby, too.
Watching their exchange is, for some reason, the last straw for Mel. She quickly pushes herself up from the couch, fast and abruptly enough that Samira and Dana look up at her in alarm.
“Are you okay, hon?” Dana asks, brows knitting together in concern.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just need some air,” Mel stammers out, waving her hands around vaguely. “Be right back.” She turns on her heel and makes a beeline for the backyard.
Robby’s got a patio swing on the deck and Mel drops into it heavily, burying her face in her hands. Tears start falling from her eyes, despite her best efforts. Well, she thinks wryly, at least I lasted half the night.
She’s devastated that Frank’s leaving, of course. But she’s also overwhelmed with happiness and pride, for how far he’s come and how hard he’s worked to get here. A little more selfishly, she’s heartbroken and a little angry that he’s leaving her, that she let him fill up the cracks in her heart, cracks she’d told herself were minimal and irrelevant, and let him carve a space for himself in her life.
Mel spends five minutes on the swing, and has just given herself three more before she has to go back inside, when the door opens and Cassie steps out.
“Hey, Mel,” she says gently. “Mind if I join you?”
Mel shakes her head and shifts over to make space for Cassie, criss-crossing her legs. They sit in silence for a moment, the swing rocking gently as Cassie brings her feet up, too.
“How are you doing?” Cassie asks, looking over at Mel with kind eyes.
“I’m okay,” Mel responds automatically, then sighs when Cassie gives her a skeptical look. They’ve gotten closer since Frank got back too, an unexpected (but not unwelcome) side effect of Cassie being Frank’s unofficial sponsor and Mel being—well, whatever she is to Frank. Someone important. A friend, at the very least.
Cassie’s understanding and motherly energy has always made Mel feel like she can tell her anything, so she easily admits, “I’m sad, obviously. He’s my best friend.” Truthfully, that doesn’t seem sufficient enough to describe what Frank means to her, but it’s also not a lie.
“Yeah,” Cassie hums, “you’re his, too.” She hesitates, looking at Mel unsurely before she says, “You can stop me if you don’t want to hear this.” Mel sits up straighter, bracing herself, and gestures for Cassie to continue. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does when he’s with you. It’s like, he’s more settled. He always used to be so gogogo all the time, moving from one thing to the next in the blink of an eye. And he still is, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve noticed he’s tried to be more mindful of it ever since he met you. He’s much more careful and deliberate now. You’ve changed him.”
Mel feels a lump growing in her throat again and has to swallow it down. “He’s changed me, too.”
“Yeah. You’re both good for each other, you know?” Cassie gently nudges Mel’s knee with hers, and Mel nods. That’s how it’s always been with them, really. Mel needed someone who would show up for her, and Frank needed someone who was willing to accept him, barbed wire and all. “That doesn’t have to change just because he’s leaving, Mel.”
“I know.” Mel takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to admit to Cassie what she’s only thought to herself since the day Frank told her about Abby’s plans. “I’m mad at him. For leaving. And then it’s like, I’m mad at myself for being mad at him, you know, because it’s so unfair of me. Him leaving has nothing to do with me, and yet, I feel like I’m taking it so personally because—” Mel stops, her heart clogging her throat.
Cassie reaches over and takes Mel’s hand in hers, squeezes it comfortingly. “Because you love him,” Cassie finishes for her, sighing sympathetically when Mel nods. “Yeah, kid, me too.”
***
Mel’s a little tipsier than she wants to be. Her tolerance has never been great, but the sangria was strong, and she’d barely been able to finish half of her burger earlier. There was also the fact that she’d started a little game with herself: a sip of sangria every time she thought about saying goodbye to Frank at the end of the night.
So when the party starts winding down, Mel’s on the couch feeling loose-limbed and teary, watching as Frank goes through goodbyes with the party guests.
Samira suddenly appears in front of her, crouching down. “Ready to go home, Mel?”
Mel shakes her head, fingers twisting in her lap. “I want Frank to take me home,” she says quietly.
Samira frowns. She quickly glances over her shoulder at Frank, standing at the door, before turning back to Mel. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to. He has an early day tomorrow.”
“I just want Frank,” Mel whispers, voice cracking a little, and Samira sighs, squeezing Mel’s knees gently before standing.
“Okay, Mel. Let me ask him.”
Samira heads over to talk to Frank. Out of the corner of her eye, Mel sees them both look at her briefly, concerned. They come to some sort of an agreement, and Frank puts his hands on Samira’s arms, tilting his head down to meet her gaze directly as he says something that has her nodding. When he straightens up again, he pulls her into a hug, swaying their bodies back and forth. Mel thinks of their little trio again and has to try very hard not to cry.
Then Samira’s back, telling her Frank will take her home once he’s finished and that she’ll see Mel and Becca tomorrow for dinner. Mel nods and accepts Samira’s hug robotically, then watches as she leaves, squeezing Frank’s arm before she goes.
A few minutes later, Frank crosses the room and crouches in front of her like Samira had, his eyes roaming her face. What he’s looking for, she doesn’t know.
“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asks gently, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She nods and he pulls her up, sliding a steady arm around her waist when she sways into him slightly. “Come on, I’ve got you.”
Robby sees them off, leaning against the door frame as they slowly make their way down his front porch steps. “Take good care of her, Frank,” Robby says as he starts to shut the door behind them.
“I always do,” Frank calls back over his shoulder, and then they’re making their way to his car.
Frank makes Mel drink an entire bottle of water before he starts driving them back to her apartment. Mel leans her head against the cool window, watching the streetlights blur past them. Halfway through the drive, Frank reaches over and settles a warm hand on her knee, and she tilts her legs closer to him to lessen the gap even as she thinks, How many more times?
When they get there, Frank walks her up, unlocking the door with his spare key. She wants to cry watching him use it, and hopes he forgets to give it back.
He doesn’t leave once Mel gets inside, choosing instead to follow her as she stumbles towards her bedroom. She fleetingly wonders if he’s just as desperate to keep her in his orbit as she is with him, knowing that they’re on borrowed time. Distantly, she feels a pang of gratitude that Becca’s at the center tonight, because it means she won’t have to witness Mel’s maudlin state.
They’d done a going-away party of sorts a couple of days ago, just the three of them having dinner and watching a movie like they always did. When Frank left, Becca had given him the friendship bracelets she and Mel had made for him and the kids. So you don’t forget us, she’d told Frank seriously, and he’d looked like he was about to cry when he took them from her. I could never forget about you, Becs, he’d said in response.
Now, Frank sits on Mel’s bed and fiddles with the friendship bracelet on his wrist, not watching as she grabs her pajamas and heads to her attached bathroom. She leaves the door cracked slightly while she changes and brushes her teeth, catching glimpses of him in the mirror when she angles herself just right and mentally snapshotting each one.
When she emerges again, he stands from her bed, letting her climb in underneath her covers. She sits up against her headboard, fingers toying with her blanket.
“Are you gonna be okay or should I take the couch?” he asks, and Mel shakes her head.
“Can you stay with me?” Her voice is small, timid, as she looks up at him with a pleading gaze.
His face twists into a pained expression before he nods. “Okay, sure.”
He has a spare set of clothes, just a T-shirt and sweats, in Mel’s top drawer. She’d washed them and stored them there after they’d somehow ended up in Mel’s backpack instead of his. He’d never mentioned it; Mel wasn’t sure if he had realized where they were, and she hadn’t wanted to bring it up either. She liked having his things in her drawer, and after learning he was leaving, she’d meant to keep them forever, something to remember him by. But now he’d be taking them with him too, leaving her with nothing, Mel thinks, a bit woefully.
He doesn’t mention it as she directs him to the drawer, just looks at her for a long moment before grabbing his clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. She listens to him move around behind the closed door, closing her eyes and taking slow, deep breaths, letting the lingering smell of his cologne fill her lungs to the brim.
It feels tragically domestic, watching him put his things on Mel’s desk before he gets into her bed, turning off the lights and plunging them into moonlit darkness. They lay on their sides facing each other, and Mel allows herself the opportunity to run her eyes across his face, taking in the quirk of his eyebrows and the crinkles by his eyes. The slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth. The dimple of his chin, which she always wants to fit her thumb into, has imagined pulling him down by to press their mouths together many times. She has nothing to lose anymore by looking her fill.
He’s watching her just as intently, anyway. She’s always felt splayed open by his gaze. Even from that first day, he seemed to see right through her, understood who she was at her core and what she needed, and didn’t run away. If anything, he ran toward her, full speed, arms open as if to say, I know you, and I’m not scared.
“Mel,” he finally whispers, looking into her eyes. She knows what he sees: bitterness, devastation, love. “What can I do? Please tell me.”
Mel sighs sadly, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to not let any tears fall. Her voice wavers when she says, “Take me with you.”
Frank inhales sharply, and Mel feels him shift closer to her on the bed. “Baby, I can’t,” he says gently, reaching out to swipe his thumb under her eye, where a tear has fallen. “You’ve gotta finish your residency. You have a life here, and it’s a damn good one.” It’s a pipe dream anyway and they both know it, Mel’s suggestion nothing more than her wishing things could be different, but it still hurts. His thumb shifts to gently rub back and forth across her cheekbone, rhythmic and soothing. “I’ll call you every week.”
And Mel knows how that goes. She’d tried a long-distance relationship in college once, not that she and Frank were in a relationship, but the principle was the same. They’d talked every day, then every other day, then only on the weekends, until the communication was so minimal that their five minute break-up over FaceTime was the longest they’d talked in weeks.
If anyone were to ask, Mel would blame the alcohol; she would never say this out loud to Frank if she were sober. But really, it’s mostly the knowledge that it’s his last night, and she can lay all her cards on the table without fear. “You won’t. You’re gonna get a new job and make new friends and you’re gonna forget all about us here.” You’re gonna forget about me, she wants to say, but doesn’t. Frank knows what she means though. He always does.
“Mel,” he says firmly, a little urgently, like he needs to make sure she remembers this, if nothing else. “Can you look at me, please?” She slowly opens her eyes, heart clenching when she sees his are teary, too. “I could never forget you. You changed my life the day we met—you changed me—and knowing you has made my life better in every way since.” He gently takes her face in his hands, staring deeply into her eyes and making sure she can’t look away. “Sweetheart, I need you to know, whatever happens, you and I were meant to be in each other’s lives. Two-thousand miles isn’t gonna change the fact that you’re my best friend, and I’m yours, or that I—” He stops abruptly, and Mel’s breath catches in her throat.
She knows. She knows what he was going to say, and why he won’t. It almost seems like it’d be crueler for him to finish his statement, on this last night before he leaves, and he’s never been cruel. Not with her.
So she tucks the knowledge into her heart, in the deepest part of it no one’s ever accessed before, locks it in the safe labeled Frank and saves it for later.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she admits, sniffling a little. “And it’s two thousand five hundred and thirty-three miles, actually.”
Frank laughs, but it’s a bit thick with emotion. “My bad.” He shifts even closer and kisses the bridge of her nose. Mel shuts her eyes and breathes deeply. “Whatever the actual distance, I promise I’m only a phone call away.”
“But it’s not gonna be the same,” she whimpers, finally starting to cry softly. Frank lets go of her face and pulls her into his arms, letting her press her face into his chest.
It’s not fair that Frank has to leave. It’s not fair that Mel has to stay. It’s not fair that she loves him so much it physically hurts and that he loves her, and that they can’t even say it to each other because that’ll hurt too, releasing those words into the universe and knowing they’ll be accompanied by a goodbye. It’s not fair that they only got two years and some change of knowing each other when they were supposed to have forever, that Mel actually let herself imagine a forever with him and is watching it disappear with every minute closer to sunrise.
Mel wants to tell him all of this, but can’t, and that’s unfair too.
“It’s not fair,” is all she says. Any of it. All of it.
“No,” he agrees sadly, “it’s not.”
They lay there for minutes or hours or days, in their own little pocket of the universe where Frank loves Mel and holds her and kisses her head every two minutes and Mel loves Frank and wraps an arm around his waist and commits the smell of him to memory.
Eventually, Mel swallows and says, “Frank?”
“Yeah?” he whispers.
“In the morning, if I’m not awake by the time you have to leave, can you not wake me up, please? I want this to be our goodbye.”
Frank presses his lips to the top of her head again, tightening his arms around her. His voice is thick and wobbly as he says, “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”
***
When Mel wakes up, the sunlight is already streaming in through the windows and Frank’s side of the bed is empty, as expected. Mel reaches an arm out across his side of the bed, like she can seep the lingering traces of his body warmth out from the bedsheets with her fingertips.
Her fingers hit a pile of fabric, starkly different in feel from her covers. She lifts her head slightly, breath catching in her throat at what she sees. He left his T-shirt and sweats behind. Tears prick behind her eyes, and she swallows hard.
After a moment, she pulls his T-shirt toward her, bunches it up in her fists, and presses it to her face, breathing in deep.