dr. mel's elbows.

They would slip away then, if they could, into a closet or an empty room on a different floor. He would pull her close, an arm around her stomach, and ease his weight against her back. Then he’d rock his hips into hers like they were having sex. She’d press back and try not to make any noise, even though she was pretty sure he liked it when she did. 

They never took their clothes off or anything. They never even kissed, but she still felt guilty about the way he’d groan and his hips would stutter and he’d drop his forehead to her shoulder and just breathe there for a while after. Not guilty enough to not let him do it, though. 

It always felt good. One time he had lifted her up and pressed her against the door so that the handle pushed against her just right, and she’d come hard even though she was terrified the entire time that the door was going to swing open and they’d drop to the floor with a bang. 

Dr. King and Dr. Langdon check into the ER at around 2pm. 

It’s Dennis who gets the case. When he sees Frank Langdon at the top of his file, he audibly groans. 

“What’s wrong, Huckleberry?” Trinity body checks his elbow, nearly making him trip, “More contagious rashes?” 

“No,” He says mournfully, “It’s a VIP.” 

“Who is it? Did someone put something up their ass?” She says eagerly, bounding up to his side to peer over at the papers in his hands, then she makes an audible gagging sound, “Oh, that’s all yours, buddy.” 

“Thanks, Trin.” He says, visibly cringing. 

When he gets to the room, curtains drawn conspicuously, he is surprised to find Mel there, too. She’s sitting bedside, looking tearful, Dr. Langdon leaned back in the gurney with a wet washcloth over his left eye. 

He’s never seen Mel out of scrubs before and it’s a bit alarming. She’s in a pink and purple striped shirt with a comfy looking pair of brown capris. Her hair is in two braids instead of one. She’s fresh-faced, pretty. 

“What’s, um–” Dennis starts awkwardly, “... what seems to be the issue, Dr. Langdon?” 

Frank looks thoroughly unimpressed, which makes him wilt. 

“I have a piece of glitter lodged in my cornea,” he finally says, voice even, “numbing drops and a saline flush should do it.” 

“Please make sure he’s not blind!” Mel cries, sniffing, “Or I could clock-in and do it, I don’t mind!” 

“It’s fine, Mel,” Dennis says, gingerly peeling off the washcloth and squinting down at Frank’s red, irritated eye, “you should enjoy your day off.” 

“It’s all my fault!” she moans, shoulders shaking. Frank gave Dennis a poisonous look and, to his surprise, put his arm around Mel and shushed her gently.

“Honey, please,” He says low to her ear, “it’s not your fault. It’s going to be fine.” 

Frozen by the display of affection and putting together a million puzzle pieces in his head, Dennis just stares at them dumbly. 

“Saline, man. C’mon.” Frank says sharply. 

“Right. Right, sorry, Dr. Langdon.” 

He numbs Langdon up first, then wheels over his tray of saline syringes, and a reservoir to catch the extra. Mel watches like a hawk, and he can’t help but feel both slightly judged, and like he was third-wheeling a date (he thinks he’s correct about this). 

“How did you, uh,” He doesn’t want to ask, but Trinity would kill him if he didn’t, “wind up with glitter in your eye?” 

Frank sighs, “Have you ever heard of a ‘glitter-bomb’?” 

“Oh, shit,” Dennis laughs despite himself, then stops quickly, “Sorry! That’s, uh— sorry, isn’t that like, a thing a vengeful ex could mail you?” 

To his horror, Mel bursts into tears. 

“Hold on,” Frank says to Dennis, then turns to Mel, pulling her against his side, and whispering feverishly, “Baby, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Abby would have found a reason to do it either way, and I am happy about the baby–” 

Abby’s counter in the bathroom looked like an apothecary. She had always cared a lot about the way that she looked, and Frank hadn’t really minded. In college, it was good. Fun, even. He liked that she did “girly” things, like get her hair blown out and her nails done. Facials, peels, glosses. He could slip her a $50 bill if he got a good tip at work and send her to the salon; she’d come back glowing and happy. Blowjob. 

Later, it became a lot less fun. In med school, with the kids, she couldn’t afford to splurge on treatments. She’d fill up a cart at TJ Maxx with strange beauty products, have a resentful spa day by herself with a canned spritzer while Tanner cried in the bouncer. 

After rehab, she cashed out big time. Botox. Collagen shots. Pilates and hot yoga. Of course, they couldn’t afford that, either, but he owed her, so he had to make it happen. 

With all of her potions and jabs and treatments, Abby was beautiful. Well-kept. Of course, Frank had thought she was beautiful without them, too, but that had never been an option for her. 

On the other hand, Mel hardly wore any makeup at all. 

Frank hadn’t noticed it at first, it hadn’t even crossed his mind, until one day when a disgruntled patient had splashed her in the face with some whiskey he’d snuck inside his jacket. She had blinked furiously until Perlah had led her to the eye wash station, where she had gotten thoroughly sprayed. He noted afterwards, when she’d gotten all dried off, that she looked just the same as before. Face fresh, cheeks pink, the little mole under her eye visible. She hadn’t even had mascara on. That night, guiltily, he searched Pornhub for “girl next door”, “blonde”, then (even more shamefully, he added:) “glasses”. Of course, nothing got close to the real thing.

There was something about the way that she needed nothing at all to be the most eye-catching thing in the room that drove him absolutely crazy. Her hair, thick and shiny and beautiful, looked completely untouched. He wondered if she even trimmed it herself. 

When he got her pregnant, it was cranked up by ten. Her face glowed, her hair grew impossibly fast, she was like some kind of forest fairy from one of Penny’s children’s books. 

Leaned up against the doorway, he listened as she spoke with an elderly patient, her braid tossed over her shoulder. 

“What do you do to your hair, honey?” she asked, reaching out like she was going to touch as Mel subtly dodged her hand, “It’s like silk.” 

Mel flushed with pride, looking at the floor, “Oh, um, it’s a little funny, but I actually use shampoo for horses? It’s called Mane and Tail––”