history, huh?

Normally, Mel would have rushed to the ensuite to wash the day off her. Especially on days like today, where her patients clung to her clothes. But, as soon as she toed her shoes off, she made her way to the living room. 

Both Frank and baby Eliza lay on their stomach, facing each other. Frank’s back was to the door, so Mel could lean on the frame and watch as Eliza’s blue eyes tracked his every movement, babbling some sweet nonsense. 

A side-effect from the guilt of Tanner being born during COVID and working too many hours during Penny’s infancy, Frank threw himself into their pregnancy, vibrating with excitement and pride anytime he got the chance to talk about their baby. Near the end of her pregnancy, Mel used to joke that he was more excited than her (but, she sobbed the moment she heard Eliza’s little cries, knowing that she was perfect and theirs). 

As it were, Eliza was spoiled. Whenever it was her tummy time, Frank joined her, stretching his back as he faced her, watching her take in the world or coo to her while she vocalized her protests at the activity. 

“Your mommy thinks I didn’t hear her come in, but I know she’s behind us,” Frank said to Eliza in a conspiratorial whisper, pulling Mel back to reality. 

Eliza gurgled back, all gums and drool. 

Mel smiled softly, the weight of the day easing off her back. She nudged Frank’s leg with a socked foot, “Hello to you as well. And to you, Miss Eliza.”

She squealed in response. 

“Oh no! I did it again.”

Frank cocked his head at her, a bemused tilt to his lips, “Did what?”

Mel’s gaze dropped, focusing on the small tear at the collar of his shirt. It was loose on him—most of his pre-rehab shirts had the same fit and he kept making excuses to go shopping for himself.

A quick, light squeeze to her calf brought her back into her body, “sweetheart, what do you mean?”

“I rambled for too long.”

“What do y—”

“You just asked me what I was reading. That’s it. And I’ve been soliloquying for,” Mel checked her watch, offering an estimate, “10 minutes. You didn’t ask for all those details and I know I have a tendency to go on and on and not realize people aren’t as excited as me. I’m sorry.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, tears pricking her eyes.

Frank’s face was washed in his apartment’s warm parking lot lighting. An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes but Mel was too tired to decipher it. 

“I’m not letting you go home alone after that shift.” She stared at him, buffering as she processed his words. His face softened, voice pleading, “Let me take care of you. Let me make sure you’re okay.”

She nodded wordlessly. In a daze, Mel allowed Frank to gently lead her to his third-floor apartment, let him untie her shoes with minimal protests, and guide her to his couch. She stared blankly ahead as he fussed with something on his TV stand. 

The sharp snick of a lighter drew her attention. With great effort, Mel focused on the lighter in Frank’s hand, the waver of the spark of fire as he moved, the way it took a second before catching on the wick. As he tucked the lighter back in his pocket, Mel recognized the vessel.