@kingdonmicrofic day twenty-three: milestone - 408 words - angst, autistic mel, implied infidelity
While it’s certainly possible, the point of a residency is not to take a permanent position. Too many cooks in the kitchen; not every resident at the Pitt can go on to become an attending. Mel knew this when she applied for the residency, and although she plans to stay in Pittsburgh, given how much Becca likes her care home here, she has accepted the possibility that she might not stay at the Pitt. She might not even stay in emergency medicine. She is exploring possibilities.
She likes her coworkers, but she did not expect to make lifelong relationships; she expected them to become the type of people you would send an annual Christmas card, if sending Christmas cards were still a thing, and not just relegated to likes and maybe a comment on Instagram posts. Even email chains have died.
His absence stung; after that first day, she thought she had found someone who understood her—or, if not understood her, was willing to try. That was already more than most people offered her. She had become accustomed to blank stares as people figured out that she was not like them, but Frank did not give her that. He gave her wide, curious eyes. He gave her reception; he wanted to receive her. So, the absence stung, and even though her superiors praised her and she chatted amicably with everybody, she never felt that innate sense of belonging at the Pitt again.
Frank’s return, temporarily euphoric, ends up hurting her worse.
“Congratulations, Dr. Langdon,” Mel says politely, flanked by colleagues, in the staff room, which has been decked out with banners and cake celebrating Frank’s new position as an attending emergency physician in Philadelphia. “You’re going on to do good things.”
Later, when everybody else has left, and Mel and Frank should be leaving, too, but they’re standing in this decorated room, this room which has saw witness to many moments between them, Frank stops short, just inches from her, his fingers almost on her wrist, wedding ring glinting. “Mel,” he says.
“Just—” Mel averts her eyes. “Send me a Christmas card, okay? You know my address.”
Before he can respond she picks up her things and leaves. She avoids Frank’s attempt to loop her in on every case that comes through the doors that day. She leaves before him. She drives home. She cries.