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After finishing her 12-hour shift Mel made for North Hills. It had been a long day, but the hardest part had been getting off the shift and having to fight the urge to go straight to sleep. She had wanted to keep her promise to Becca. Since it was Friday Mel intended to take Becca out for her favourite, Italian food.
The bus ride to the care facility had only been made manageable thanks to the music blasting through Mel’s headphones. Music usually served to improve her mood. Consequently, Mel was frustrated to find that today she was too tired for even Beyoncé to have any effect. At least the music served to mask the drumming of the rain against the roof of the bus. And the humming of the motor, the chattering of children sat behind her, the crackling of the loudspeakers as they announced each stop — it shielded her from all these noises. It made riding the bus bearable.
Becca was elated to be spending the evening with her sister who was, according to her, the best person in the whole entire world. Thus, she was so happy when Mel finally arrived that she neglected to berate her for being almost two hours late. McKay had warned Mel that emergency departments usually got busy around the holidays, the Pitt being no exception. But nothing could’ve prepared her for the carnage. Death — a lot of death — made worse by the presence of bitter family members brought together for Thanksgiving, now torn apart by grief and inheritance disputes.
Mel loved her sister more than anything else. The care facility in North Hills had been the whole reason behind her applying for the residency in Pittsburgh. At the same time, she hadn’t had much of a choice. With a dead mom and their dad out of the picture she was all that Becca had and conversely, Becca was all that she had ever had. Making friends had never come easy for her. The closest she ever came to forming real connections was making acquaintances. There were, for instance, her coworkers who, while they were nice, she couldn’t count among her friends. She knew that they didn’t see her that way. Hence why she should consider herself lucky to have someone like Becca in her life, because Becca made sure that she never had to feel alone.
Later, after Mel had picked up Becca from the care facility, they had walked through the pouring rain to a dingy Italian place on a nearby street corner. It was a small place where they usually were the only guests eating in. They had chosen a table in the small dining area that smelled of grease. Mel had gotten the booth, Becca the chair. They preferred it that way. Every so often the door would ring, signaling that a customer had come in to pick up their take-out food. The sisters were otherwise let alone.
Mel had finished her Chicken Parmesan what was starting to feel like over twenty minutes ago. There was music playing, but it was too faint to be in any way discernible. She had taken to watching the rain hitting the window, on occasion allowing her gaze to linger on a droplet as it trailed down the window-pane. Becca was chipper as ever, sparing no time to eat. Today she was inquisitive and asking questions concerning the human body (they had been playing Operation in the facility). Thankfully, Mel knew the human body like the back of her hand. Even if she had felt too tired to fully engage herself in the conversation, wishing she’d had the energy to do so, she hadn’t left a single question unanswered.
Becca had asked about the nerves, and Mel had suddenly remembered what they had reminded her of when she had dissected a human body for the first time. It was like she could still smell the cadaver lab and its characteristic scent of formaldehyde.
”They’re like… uh”, Mel looked down at her (mostly) empty plate. There was only a single spaghetti noodle left of her Chicken Parmesan. “Like spaghetti.”
Becca seemed pleased with that answer, but Mel suddenly felt ill at ease (one could even say nervous?). The closest thing she’d experienced to a cadaver lab since medical school was when they’d turned Pedes into a temporary morgue during the mass casualty at PittFest. Mel shivered at the thought of that room.
Her first shift had been an eventful one. But it hadn’t all been terrible, because during that shift she’d met Dr. Langdon for the first time. He was one of the few people she’d felt that she had been able to form a real connection with. They had understood each other. Then he had disappeared, and she often wondered what had become of him. Other than the rumours, which she still refused to believe, she knew nothing of his current situation.
Resting her head in her hands, her eyes stubbornly drifted back to the window. There she’d spotted a man crossing the street in a hurry. He was tall and wearing some sort of cap, but she was unable to make out anything else. It was dark outside and raining heavily. He almost reminded her of – – her imagination must have been running wild.
Then again, why shouldn’t it be him? She didn’t know where he lived. What were the odds of this place being his local Italian? Low, yes. But the odds of him not having ordered pizza on a Friday night if this really were his local Italian were even lower. So why shouldn’t it be him? He looked the part, as she squinted through the rain. And yet, she was convinced that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.
Behind Becca, the door chimed, signalling a new customer. A man— the man from outside had entered and walked up to the counter, just a few feet from where the two sisters were sitting. At this short of a distance and in the brightly lit restaurant, Mel could no longer deny it. She had looked up and seen none other than him.
“Dr. Langdon?”
Mel felt suddenly happy, like she was seeing an old friend again that she hadn’t seen in a long time. Which was odd, because she didn’t really know Dr. Langdon. However there was also a different feeling altogether — a pain in her side. He, who Mel had thought of near constantly since her first shift as a resident in the Pitt, was just a few feet away, leaning on the counter, talking to the guy at the register. And he looked terrible. Mel had always hoped that he wouldn’t look so terrible, if she were to ever see him again. She’d heard rumours — terrible rumours — and she hadn’t known what to think. His current disheveled appearance only seemed to support those very rumours she’d been refusing to believe. Those sunken cheeks, dark circles and loose-fitting clothes.
Langdon turned his head at the sound of her voice. His untrimmed hair was falling into his face, forcing him to move it out of the way of his eyes as he stood up properly.
“Mel…” when he spoke he sounded almost disappointed. He wasn’t disappointed to see Mel, rather that she was able to see him in this state. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. During his time in rehab he’d only been thinking about one thing: what to say to everyone on his first day back at the Pitt. The hours he’d spent in therapy had never once bored him, for his mind had been preoccupied with what he’d say to Robbie, Dana, Dr. Santos and Mel on his first day back. Since he was still a few months out of being fit for work, he’d thought he’d have more time. He hadn’t finished considering how he wanted to go about coming clean to Mel. He wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, especially not her.
“That’s Dr. Langdon?” asked Becca excitedly.
At least, Langdon figured that it must be the sister, Becca. Had Mel told her about him? He hoped they had been kind words, considering Becca seemed happy to see him. Even happier than Mel. There was no getting out of this now; he saw Mel shuffling out of her booth out of the corner of his eye.
“In the flesh,” he replied. He excused himself to the young man working the register.
”What are you doing here?” Mel asked, seeming unsure of how to act. Was she even happy to see him? Langdon stared down at her. He hoped that she was trying (and evidently succeeding) in masking any excitement.
She hadn’t passed on any of the rumours that would likely be circulating about him at this point to her sister. He could’ve figured that out even without having to meet the overly excited Becca; Mel wasn’t the type to spread rumours. But did she believe them? That was more important to him. Her expression was usually quite hard to read. Presently her face seemed to express only one distinguishable emotion: worry. That furrowed brow over those big eyes, coupled with an almost defensive demeanor. Was she worried or scared? She seemed careful, and he couldn’t gauge whether he was scared of or for him.
”I…” he started, trailing off. “Just getting my pizza,” he added, casually, trying and failing to find anything to look at but her eyes. He moved his hair out of his face again.
What was she doing here anyway, in North Hills? She couldn’t have possibly known that he’d been staying with his parents here, just while trying to get back on his feet. It should’ve done him some good, getting away from it all. A return to the comforting lull of suburbia; the familiar sameness of rows upon rows of medium-sized houses with garages, interspersed with endless asphalt. He’d been living out of his childhood bedroom, now turned into an office. It usually served to remind him of being a kid. Now it had felt claustrophobic and unfamiliar and hadn’t given him the comfort he’d desperately needed, between the divorce and rehab. Besides, his parents were aging; they weren’t really able to be there for him. Not that they’d ever really been what you’d call emotionally available. He’d never expected it from them either, always managing on his own. He hadn’t needed his parents to coax him through medical school, internships or residency; he’d done it all on his own. Just like he didn’t need them now.
”It’s been a while,” Mel said to fill the silence, pausing before gently continuing, her voice slightly lowered, “are you okay?”
”Yes! Yes,” Langdon felt the need to speak loudly, overcompensating for Mel’s quiet, intimate tone of voice, as if to signal that he didn’t have anything to confide in her, and there was no reason for anyone to eavesdrop. ”I’m doing great, actually. It’s just…”
He’d hoped that Mel would’ve picked up the thread and spared him from having to waste both of their time having to guess what she already knew or didn’t know, but Mel didn’t usually pick up on little things of that nature. Surely she knew about him helping himself to his patients’ medication. Dr. Santos would’ve spread the word, he figured. But she didn’t need to know about the divorce, seeing as there was no way she could’ve found that out on her own. Nobody knew about it except his and Abby’s family. Although, she was probably wondering what he was doing here, in North Hills. He could explain why, just omitting the divorce.
”I’m staying with my parents right now. Just because Abby and I—” He cleared his throat before continuing, “they— uh— my parents, I mean, they live here, in North Hills:”
“Right,” Mel said, taking a deep breath. The fact that he was back living with his parents didn’t sound too good. She couldn’t imagine how tough it must’ve been for someone like Langdon, who was pretty comfortable with managing on his own, being forced to rely on his parents again. She avoided his intense gaze by looking down at her feet. And who was Abby — his wife? Was she the reason he was staying with his parents? “Right. Just like Becca. The care facility… it’s also here, in North Hills. Are you—”
Langdon glanced towards the door, itching to leave. This conversation had been a mistake. He should’ve pulled his hood up and avoided eye contact. He wasn’t ready.
“I—”, he’d begun speaking again, absent-mindedly, cutting Mel off. Realising his mistake, he apologised, adding, “no, you go ahead.”
Mel took a deep breath. “I was just going to ask, if you’re coming back at all—”
Langdon turned away.
“Oh, look! There’s my pizza.”
To their right, the man working the register had returned, placing two boxes down on the counter. Langdon had turned just in time, as if he’d heard the man coming back. Or he’d simply gotten lucky while trying to find anything else to talk about.
“Ah…” said Mel. “Yeah, you might want to…get those.”
In the silence that followed her remark, Langdon noticed Mel nervously fidgeting with her hair, which was laid over her front shoulder in a low ponytail. The conversation was evidently having an adverse effect on her. He wondered if there was still a chance of salvaging it, so he didn’t have to feel guilty for upsetting her. Maybe it would help if he just told her the truth. Not everything — only the bits that she could find solace in knowing. He wasn’t confiding in her, as much as he was relieving her of the burden of not knowing. Really, he was doing her a favour. And for that he decided that the pizza could wait.
“Has anyone told you anything about why I’ve been gone?” he asked, hoping that she would appreciate some direct communication.
There was no longer any point in trying to keep anything she most likely already knew a secret. Why should he cling on to the little pride he had left? What mattered was getting through to Mel in a way that wasn’t going to hurt her. Seeing her, he’d had a change of heart. He no longer wanted to flee. There was still time to pick up the scraps of the conversation and at the very least try to make it work.
Mel shook her head, “no.”
Langdon took a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve been in rehab.”
”Oh,” said Mel simply. That reaction only further worried him. He’d expected something more, at least a ’I’m sorry.’
“Yeah,” he said. “for an addiction to benzos.”
He paused to gauge Mel’s reaction, but telling the truth seemed to have had the opposite of the desired effect.
“But I’m clean now. It’s been a while now since I last….” trailing off, he felt still more guilt. ”I guess— I want to apologise,” he added.
Mel answered after a brief moment of silence, ”apologise for what?”
As Mel wasn’t sure what to make of any of this, Langdon felt relieved to have gotten it all off his chest. At the same time it seemed as if he was transferring his mental load onto Mel. While he felt lighter, she had suddenly been burdened by what he’d been carrying these past months. The weight had been gradually lifted off his shoulders during his time in rehab, but Mel had been forced to endure the pressure all at once.
“I let you down, Mel. I was supposed to set an example, not be a cautionary tale. Be a good teacher. Instead you actually ended up teaching me a couple of things…”, he paused, “thanks.”
Though his gratitude was genuine, it came out sounding rather bitter. Additionally, his frustration with how this conversation had been going was affecting his tone. But Langdon didn’t want to be bitter. He had been the prodigal son — a damn good doctor, in spite of everything. He’d made them all proud, especially Robbie. That was all forgotten now, because of his addiction. One stupid mistake, as he called it. Really it had been a series of very unfortunate decisions. One after the other, lies and lies piling on top of each other and reaching insurmountable heights until one day, when it all came crashing down. But he wasn’t bitter, he told himself. And that didn’t change the fact that Mel had given him reason to be proud. Only a fool would be unable to recognise her talent, how deeply she cared for her patients. She would likely be giving him a run for his money in a few years. He certainly hoped so. If he were to come back.
Mel was still avoiding eye contact. Langdon felt that he was getting nowhere. Desperate, he tried to think of a way to salvage the situation, but Mel interrupted his thoughts:
“I thought you were a good teacher.”
But that wasn’t what Langdon had wanted to hear.
“Mel, you don’t have to do this,” he said. “I wasn’t— I messed up. I’m just glad I got caught when I did.”
“But you were good,” she insisted. He’d been a good mentor — as far as she’d been aware — right up until his disappearance. She didn’t feel let down by him, even if she realised what his addiction and him helping himself to his patients’ medications could’ve entailed. He’d let those that he’d sworn to protect down. That was the hard part — accepting the rumours of his addiction as reality. She quickly added, ”by the way, your pizza’s getting cold.”
“Ah,” said Langdon.
That was his cue. As he went to pick up the two boxes, they were only slightly warm, wet with grease. Mel wondered whether he had ordered for his parents, too. Surely he wasn’t going to eat two pizzas on his own? Maybe he was going to save the leftovers, make it into a packed lunch. A packed lunch for… rehab?
“Well,” he said. “Guess I’m going.”
“Wait— Dr. Langdon,” Mel hesitated before continuing, “just— will you be coming back?”
Langdon, having walked the couple of steps towards the door, leaned against it, pushing it open with his shoulder.
“We’ll see, Mel,” he said. Truthfully, he didn’t know whether Robbie would have him back or not. Recalling their last meeting, it didn’t seem too likely.
“I— we’d all be glad to have you back—”
“Haha, yeah?”
The door shut behind him, the bell ringing once more. Langdon had slipped out into the night and disappeared. Their encounter started to feel almost unreal, like Mel had imagined it. She went back to sit down opposite Becca, who had been listening, but likely hadn’t understood most of what had been said. She didn’t know any of the context. Come to think of it, Mel had barely begun to understand any of it. It had just felt so futile. She wasn’t sure what she had been thinking throughout the ordeal but whatever it was, she had failed to communicate it. And so had Langdon. He seemed different. Worried. He probably worried for her. She had a tendency to shut down in situations like these. All she had needed was some more time to process everything. It had probably looked terrible to Langdon.
“Was he in a hurry?” Becca asked.