Dr. Mel King enthusiast

Mel is shockingly calm about the whole situation.

“I think it’ll be nice,” she said, serenely, when Frank was checking for the hundredth time if she’s sure she wants to come up to Erie for Christmas. “I haven’t had a big family Christmas since high school.”

And that was such a classic Mel moment—heartbreaking content delivered so calmly, like she was talking about a restaurant she hadn’t visited in a while or a shirt she found in the back of the closet—that Frank forgot all of his previous worries in favor of giving her a hug and pressing his face into her hair, like if he held her hard enough some of his love and care could travel back in time to the past and find those other Mels who were so very alone. 

But Mel doesn’t come with him to therapy, so there’s nothing to distract him now from the absurd anxieties his brain has been cooking up.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Leanne prompts after a moment of silence, since Frank is trying and failing to figure out how to articulate the problem. He nods instantly because duh, he always wants to know what people think of him, and hearing things from therapists means it’s, like, probably true. Hearing things from Leanne specifically means it’s almost certainly true.

(She gave him a gold star at their session that last week of school, when he showed her the letters he’d written for homework and then told her about everything with Mel. A gold star from his therapist. He peaked, probably.)

“I think you’re nervous because you idolize Charlie and think she’s—” Leanne consults her notes, which never means anything good for him. “—’the superior Langdon sibling in every conceivable way,’ which is combining with how you think that Mel will wake up one day and realize she can—” Leanne looks back at her notes. “—’obviously do better’ into an irrational fear of Mel leaving you for your sister.”

“Jesus,” Frank breathes. “Don’t hold back.”

Leanne raises an eyebrow and continues her freaky mindreading.

“More than that, I think that you’re remembering how Charlie didn’t think you and Abby were the right fit for each other, which you ignored, and you’re scared that she’s going to see something you’ve missed.”

“I take it back. I don’t want to know what you think.”

Leanne doesn’t respond to that, which he hates. Why is he surrounded by people who are so skilled at using loaded silences against him, and when will he learn how not to fill them?

The thing is that she’s right, obviously. Frank has looked back over the past decade of his life, randomly picked out some elements, and combined them into a nonsensical mishmash of anxious hypotheticals: What if Charlie hates Mel? What if Mel hates Charlie? What if Mel hates his parents? What if his parents hate Mel? What if they forget Bunny at home? What if Charlie somehow discovers that Mel is hiding an addiction to benzos? (That might be kind of funny, actually.) What if Mel leaves him for Charlie? 

“Have you seen Hamilton?” Frank asks, wondering how effectively he can distract Leanne from the hole he’s started digging himself. Leanne nods, still looking unimpressed. “It’s like. I’ve been thinking I’m Eliza, but what if I’m Angelica, you know? I don’t think I’m good enough to be Angelica. Well, not good, but selfless, maybe? Although none of that part of the musical is very accurate, all that stuff about the Schuyler family. Angelica was actually already married when she met Hamilton. I think she even had a couple of kids? And she definitely had brothers. She had, like, twelve siblings or something. Have you heard of Historians on Hamilton? It’s a collection of essays about Hamilton by historians and academics and stuff. Charlie got it for me for Christmas a few years ago.”

Leanne closes her eyes and rubs her forehead. “Frank, has Mel ever expressed a romantic or sexual interest in other women?”

Frank presses his lips together, remembering the time that Mel told him she’s probably a 0 or 1 on the Kinsey scale. (Which she was disappointed about, to his amusement, because she’s missing out on “what sound like very enjoyable parts of the human experience.”) He sheepishly shakes his head.

“So is this really the topic of conversation you want to pursue? We still have plenty of time to talk about something else. Your father, perhaps?”

“Maybe I should give Charlie Yoyo’s number,” Frank muses, brightening up. “That would distract her, right?”

Leanne sighs and closes her notebook.

--

“I feel like I should have tried to learn greetings in Elvish or something to show respect,” Mel whispers, nervously running a hand up and down her thigh. 

Frank tries to imagine what Charlie’s reaction would be if Mel hit her with Aiya or Mai omentaina. She’d probably try to steal Mel from him on the spot, no matter what Leanne said.

“She’s not that into Lord of the Rings,” Frank says, slinging his arm around Mel’s shoulders and pulling her a little closer to him. “...Anymore.

They’re standing on the porch of his childhood home, expecting Charlie to arrive any minute. His mom is helping Tanner and Penny walk Bunny, God bless, which means they get to do this without an audience, Tanner and Penny get a chance to walk/run/skip off some of their energy after the two-hour drive up, and Mel gets a little break from loud noises after the aforementioned drive: win-win-win.

(Plus: his dad is at a buddy’s house. Everything’s coming up Frank, really.)

“Frank,” Mel whispers, tugging on his jacket until he swings his gaze away from the street and meets her beautiful eyes. 

“Yes, gorgeous?”

“This color is really nice on you. It really brings out your eyes.”

She keeps smiling up at him, cheeks rosy in the cold air, and Frank can’t help but lean down, capturing her lips against his own. 

Charlie chooses that moment to pull into the driveway, of course. Frank breaks away just as she wolf whistles out the window. He really does think they might be cursed at this point. He can probably count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten to kiss Mel in public without being interrupted or spotted by somebody annoying.

“Ok, Mel, just remember that even though she’s cooler, smarter, funnier, and smoother than me, I have Bunny,” Frank whispers in Mel’s ear as they start descending the porch stairs to the driveway. 

“Frank, I have no interest in leaving you for Charlie,” Mel tells him, somehow not sounding annoyed, even though it’s probably the fifth time she’s said it. (Apparently it’s “cute” that he thinks so highly of his sister. He doesn’t understand how Mel King is a real person.)

Charlie pops out of the driver’s seat, no jacket in sight.

“I thought she was Ubering from the airport?” Mel murmurs, which is, as always, an excellent point. Charlie yells across the yard before Frank can answer.

“Hi Frankie! It’s so great to meet you in the flesh, Mel!” 

Charlie twists side to side, probably stretching out her back. Jesus, how is she only wearing a T-shirt? Mel’s wearing her winter jacket and scarf and beanie and still looks a little cold around the edges. Also, when did Charlie finish her sleeve?

They’re only halfway across the yard when the passenger door springs open and a second woman emerges from the car, mostly blocked from Frank’s view. 

Frank looks to Mel to see if he missed something, but she looks equally confused. Which, fair. Why would she know more about what’s going on in his family than he does?

“Surprise!” Charlie chirps when they finally reach her. She hooks her arm around Frank’s neck to drag him into a hug that’s more of a squeeze, honestly, but it’s still nice. “Meet my new girlfriend! We made it official last week and she’s breaking her lease to move in with me when we get back to Brooklyn!” 

“DAD!” Tanner’s voice yells, still at least half a block away by the sound of it. “I TOLD HER NOT TO BUT BUNNY CAUGHT A SQUIRREL! PENNY’S TRYING TO GET IT OUT OF HER MOUTH!”