Work Text:
“Doctor Langdon?”
He lifted his head, expecting to see an older woman—someone who’s grandmother aged, with graying hair and grayer skin. When he was a kid in school, all his teachers had been at least 60. Or, at least, that’s what it always felt like. They were wrinkly and slow and they would rap his knuckles with rulers because corporal punishment wasn’t banned in schools in North Carolina and he could never sit still. There was an archetype, in his head, for how a teacher should look.
But the woman standing in front of him is far from any of those things. She was leaning forward a bit to greet him, bent at the hips slightly in a refined, effortless way that revealed how often she was speaking to two foot tall humans. She was wearing a dress that had little cartoon pencils and markers and crayons all over it, a bright blue for the springtime. Her smile was gentle, warm, welcoming; a bright thing that he knew must calm the kids easily. She reminded him of Ms. Frizzle, not exactly in looks, but in her aura. He’d had a huge crush on her as a kid.
His jaw was dropped, he could feel it. It was an embarrassing reaction to this beautiful woman in front of him, especially considering the circumstances under which they were meeting.
He cleared his throat, standing quickly and extending his hand. “Mrs. King?” he asked.
“Oh, just ‘Ms.,’” she corrected, shaking his hand firmly, a little bit of pink brushing along her cheekbones.
Ms. Noted.
When Abby had cancelled at the last minute on this parent-teacher conference, he had been annoyed. The thought of having to meet a batty old teacher who would complain about his kid to his face was agonizing enough with her there, but doing it alone had put thoughts of murder-suicide in his head.
When they had made the appointment, it was specifically on his day off so that he and Abby could both be there, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she had planned this just to get back at him for the times he’d flaked on her for work.
Now that he’s met Ms. King, though, he was very thankful there was some five alarm emergency at the firm that had pulled her away.
He had been buzzed into the main office at the Jennie E. Kennedy Elementary School a few minutes prior. Schools were like prisons now, he learned, where he had to hand over his ID to the secretary so she could take photocopies of it and he had to sign multiple papers stating who he was and why he was there. Then, the brusque woman had said, in a voice too flat to be working at an elementary school, “Take a seat. I’ll inform Ms. King that you’re here and have her escort you.”
And then he’d sat, leg shaking, scrolling through endless social media posts on his phone. He even had the audacity to be angry as he was unknowingly waiting for the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long time.
“I’m really glad I finally get to meet you, Doctor,” she said, looking up at him over her shoulder as she led him through the winding halls of the old brick building. Her tone was slightly teasing and it sent his heart rate skittering. “Tanner talks about you so much, but I’ve never actually gotten to meet you.”
“Does he?” he asked, his face warming.
“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” she said, stopping at a classroom and unlocking the door with a key on the lanyard around her neck. “He looks up to you so much. Has he told you about his ‘Future Goals’ project?”
Frank wracked his brain trying to remember literally anything his son had ever told him in his five years of life. “Hm,” he started, trying to sound thoughtful, “I… don’t think so.”
She led him to the front of the classroom and sat at her desk. There was an adult-sized desk chair waiting in front of it that had clearly been brought in from another classroom as it dwarfed all the child sized chairs and desks that sat in groups of four in the center of the room.
The room was larger than he’d anticipated: There was a whole clubhouse in one corner, with multiple baskets of toys and soft mats lining the tiled floor; another corner was the library, filled with thin picture books like the ones he read to Tanner and Penny, with a large circle rug and a rocking chair set up. The walls were lined with drawings and bright, fun phrases: Today is Thursday!; Room 34B is a Rainbow!; Today I’m feeling….
It was all a bit overwhelming considering his day-to-day life was a stark contrast. White walls, whiter floors, the occasional red blood, some yellow piss, some green vomit. His rainbow was a lot less fun.
“It’s a picture book project the kids are working on for the end of the year,” Ms. King explained. “The kids are going to draw out what they think their lives will be as adults. Not to spoil anything, but Tanner plans on being a doctor.”
He laughed at that, enjoying the conspiratorial and emphatic way she stated it. “That would be news to me,” he said. “Last week he told me he wanted to be a pilot-chef. A chef who flies planes and also cooks. Before that, I believe his chosen profession was ‘ninja.’”
Ms. King laughed at that. “Little kids love ninjas,” she said. “It’s a whole thing, happens every year no matter what. I don’t know where they get it from.”
She was rifling through her desk to pull out a folder with Tanner’s name on it and he felt himself bristle slightly, remembering why he was here.
“Ninja’s are cool though,” Frank said, trying to keep his demeanor calm and casual and smooth and very unaffected and handsome and charming and—
“I would agree,” Ms. King said thoughtfully, putting a finger to her mouth. “Though I’m partial to cowboys, myself.”
His heart jumped. “I am too, on account of growing up on a farm in North Carolina.” He was so embarrassing, shoving that into the conversation. He might as well say something like, I’m a cowboy, do you wanna ride me?
But she beamed at him nonetheless, and it felt like a victory. “Oh, I love that. I’m from Virginia, myself.”
“Southern roots, something we have in common,” Frank said, hoping his smile was charming and not creepy like Abby said it was when he was trying to flirt. “How’d you end up in Pittsburgh?”
“Well, I’m from Richmond,” she said, “so it’s not quite the same as farm life. And I came up because of a… family situation.
“Oh, I hope everything’s okay?”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened behind the glasses she was wearing, her mouth forming a perfect O in realization of the implication of what she said. “No, yes, everything is absolutely okay. I just… my sister. She needs to live in a care community, and we found a really great one here that she likes.”
“Ah,” Frank said, following only a little. “Well, that’s really nice, I’m glad you guys are happy up here.”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, eyes flitting between him and her hands, folded on the desk in front of her. She had a small, proud smile on her face. “Oh,” she said, looking up at him again, “what about you? Why did you move to Pittsburgh?”
“Uh, I got matched here,” he said simply. “For my residency. Abby and I moved up here and had Tanner almost immediately after.”
Ms. King nodded along, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “Was that difficult? A newborn and a new job in a new city?”
The question took him by surprise, causing his eyebrows to raise and for him to blink a few times. It had been a long time since he’d had this conversation with anyone, the last person being his mandated-therapist.
“Yes,” he said slowly after the silence stretched on a little too long. “It… It was difficult at first. Like, really bad. But, you know, we adjusted. We got better. Enough to have a second. She wasn’t an accident.”
The joke fell flat on Ms. King, who was still looking at him very intensely. But she did nod along. “I understand. I’m glad you feel like you’re more on top of it now.”
He shrugged. Honestly, most days he didn’t.
“You know,” she continued when he didn’t provide a response, “I’m sorry Mrs. Langdon couldn’t make it today. I understand you both work very important jobs, but I’ve never gotten to talk to you together. And I usually like to have these conversations with both parents.”
“Ah, yeah,” he said, unsure how his ‘throwing Abby under the bus for not being here’ strategy would go over with Ms. King. “We’re rarely in the same room together anymore, so it would’ve been more surprising if you’d gotten both of us.”
A look passed over Ms. King’s face. What was that? Her eyebrows were knit, her lips pursed a bit, and she looked like she was struggling to find the right thing to say. Was that… concern?
“Um, Doctor Langdon—” she started.
“Please,” he said, chuckling a bit. “Just Frank is fine.”
“—I don’t—uh, Frank,” she corrected, and he immediately realized his mistake when his heart jumped at it. “I don’t want to pry, but this might lead into the conversation I was planning on having with you. Is there anything going on at home with you and your wife that—”
“Ex!”
Silence.
He hadn’t meant to yell it out like that, or cut her off, or to jump up a bit out of his seat when he said it. It was just very, very important to him that this woman knew he was single. For absolutely no reason.
But she mostly just looked startled and confused. “I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice wary.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, one hand on his heart and the other extended towards her, palm down. “I didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly, it’s just… Abby and I are divorced. Legally, through the city of Pittsburgh in the state of Pennsylvania.”
Relief flooded through her features, her body visibly relaxing. “Oh my gosh, okay, that makes so much sense. I was a bit worried for a second by the whole ‘we’re never in the same room’ thing.” Her head bobbed back and forth as she repeated his words back to him. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Langdon never mentioned that you two weren’t together anymore.”
“Yes, we are very happily divorced,” he said, nodding. “No one else in my life at all.” It was the most necessary unnecessary addition. One that he thought he saw her blush at, eyes averting back to her desk, where that stupid folder still sat.
“Good to know,” she said slowly, a small smile on her lips. “And, if I can ask, how long have you been divorced?”
This was a softball question, Frank knew it by heart. “Separated for a little over a year. Divorced for six and a half months. We’re planning on throwing a party for the one year anniversary.”
Ms. King laughed at that, a real genuine one. It was pure, warm, a delightful sound that clinked like windchimes in the quiet room. When she laughed like that, she tipped her head back, her hair forming a halo around her head before it collected in a loose braid at her shoulders.
“So, it sounds like an amicable separation?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah. I guess. I was the one who fucked up—shit, sorry. Messed up.” He looked around the room, as if a toddler might pop out behind a desk or something.
She smiled at him, teasing again. “It’s after hours Doc—Frank. You can swear, I promise there are no kids here.”
He looked down sheepishly, his face flushing again. He let out a huff of a laugh. “I know, it just, like, feels wrong in this setting. Like the whole atmosphere is…” He waved his hands around at all the brightly colored cardboard decorating the walls. “It’s too bright and fun. I feel like I’m in an episode of Bluey.”
Ms. King grinned, placing a hand over heart. “That is such a compliment,” she said, pride sneaking into her joking tone. “I love Bluey. Anyway, you were saying you fucked up the marriage?”
It took him by surprise, her boldness. She had a twinkle of mischief in her eye when she said it, and he realized that she actually was having fun with him. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way he did about her—attracted beyond belief—but she was at least enjoying her time with him. He could work with that, easily.
“I did,” he said. “I won’t—it was a personal thing. And I’m better now. And we probably would’ve gotten divorced anyway with the way things were going, I just sped things along.”
Ms. King nodded, her face back to its stern seriousness. She was so hot. He’d never had a weird teacher or librarian fantasy, but this might change his mind. “And, how have the kids been dealing with the divorce?”
He shifted again, looking down. He wanted to be defensive about it, say that they did it so well and his kids were unaffected because he and Abby were perfect parents. But that wasn’t true. He didn’t want to admit it to her, but there was something about Ms. King that made him very certain she wouldn’t judge him for it.
He sighed after a few seconds of thought, trying to figure out the right way to explain. “It was difficult,” he said. “At first it was really bad. We weren’t good at explaining it to them and we were fighting a lot back then. It took a while for us to find our footing with schedules, too. We didn’t create a good routine for them like we should have.”
Ms. King nodded along to all of this. “Frank,” she said, very firmly. He suddenly understood what it was like to be a kid in her class when she was instructing them to clean up or move onto the next activity. “Divorce isn’t something that has a road map or a blueprint. It’s incredibly difficult, for everyone involved. It’s almost impossible for kids of divorce to come out completely unscathed.”
“Oh, that’s comforting,” he said absently, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He felt distinctly like he was back in his therapist’s office.
“I don’t mean to imply that I’m aware of your situation at all,” she said earnestly. “I just… I see this a lot. I’ve been teaching for a few years now.”
Frank shifted uncomfortably. He felt so laid bare in front of her. Her energy was so precise: empathetic in a cutting way, like she could split his mind open on her desk and dissect it before stitching it back together a little better than it had been before. He felt like he could tell her anything and she would understand, never judging him for it. She would’ve made a good doctor. Probably better than him.
“Ms. King—”
“Oh, you can call me Mel,” she said easily.
“Mel?” It was sweet on his lips.
“Mhm, it's Melissa. Melissa King, but Melissa is so…” She made a funny face, scrunching her nose.
“Formal?”
She smiled, a funny little lopsided one. “Yeah, exactly. So is Ms. King, honestly. I mean, I make the kids call me that, of course. I wouldn’t cross a professional boundary like that, but—”
“Mel,” he said firmly, starting to really enjoy the way his lips curved around her name, “Tanner talks about you nonstop. He loves you. Abby loves you. I know you’re a great teacher.”
She blushed again, eyes darting around the room. “Oh. Thank you.”
“So…” he said, goading a bit. “What do we need to discuss about Tanner?”
Her eyes widened and she nodded, finally grabbing the folder with Tanner’s name on it. “Yes, well, I wanted to talk about Tanner’s behavior in class.”
“Okay,” Frank said, hearing the edge in his voice rather than consciously expressing it.
“Have you ever had him tested for ADHD?”
The question took Frank by such surprise, he physically jumped a bit, taken aback. “Uh, what?”
“ADHD, it stands for Attention Def—”
“No, no,” he said, laughing a bit at her attemp to explain. “Mel, I’m a doctor, I know what ADHD is.”
“Oh, right.” She was really blushing now. He wished it didn’t give him a sick thrill.
“I just… I’ve never picked up on any signs that he might have it.”
Mel nodded. “I understand. At home, the environment is so different than in school. School is a much more structured place and, when a kid is just starting out in preschool and kindergarten, it’s much more common for the signs to show themselves.”
Frank nodded along, trying to think back for any behavior that could have pointed to Tanner having ADHD.
“Tanner is such an intelligent kid, though,” she continued, voice reassuring. “He’s very smart, he’s empathetic, he wants to learn. It’s just that sometimes he speaks out when he shouldn’t, or causes distractions with the other kids. He likes to climb on things, even after he’s been told not to. It’s not all the time and I know he doesn’t mean to be doing anything wrong, but I think it’s a struggle for him. And with the end of the year coming up, I think it would be great for him to go into first grade with a little bit more support around this.”
“Support…” Frank repeated. This was all so much to digest, and totally not what he thought he was coming in to discuss. He was still stuck on the fact that she was pretty, honestly.
“Mhm,” she nodded, smiling picking up the corner of her lips. “Like, for example, these have been helping him.”
She handed him a fidget toy, a line of triangle blocks connected to each other, bent in a few different directions.
“It, uh, folds into a cube,” she said. “Try it.”
Frank wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of fidget toys, but he had never seen one like this. Immediately, he began trying to twist the triangles into each other.
“Tanner really likes that one,” Mel said fondly. “The block ones work well for reading time and when I’m teaching. I gave him a sand one once and it… didn’t turn out as well.”
“Yeah, he is a messy kid. Always has been,” Frank said offhandedly, starting to get annoyed with the stupid triangles that wouldn’t go into a stupid cube. “What else do you have, I don’t like this one.”
Mel laughed, that sweet little tinkle filling the air again. She gestured to her desk: sitting right in front of him the whole time was an array of brightly colored objects in a wide variety of shapes. He hadn’t noticed them because they blended in with the rest of the room. “Take your pick,” she said, grinning. “They’re there to be used. But, I’ll warn you, they’ve been touched by hundreds of five-year-olds’ hands.”
“If I didn’t work in a hospital, that might scare me,” Frank said. He looked them over, picking up a rainbow silicone disc that looked like bubble wrap. He pushed a few of the bubbles, they popped out the other side, making a delicious pop! sound that sent a little thrill through him.
“Those are my favorites, too,” Mel said. “Um, has… anyone in your family ever been diagnosed with ADHD?” She was looking at him pointedly, but not unkindly.
His fingers were working at the bubbles in his hands, but he let out a bark of laughter. “Uh, from a PCP? No. From all of my coworkers when I annoy them? Yes.”
She laughed again. God, he was really starting to love that sound. It pulled at his heart.
“But, yeah, to answer your question, I probably do have it. Problem is it makes me really good at my job, so…” he shrugged, fingers pop, pop, pop!-ing.
Mel nodded, knowingly. “Neurodivergency gives us different skills than neurotypical people,” she mused. “Unfortunately, it means we get pushed to the edges of a society made for them and not us.”
“That’s… very poetic,” Frank said.
She smiled, face red. “I’ve had a whole life to think about it.”
He nodded. “Well, at least we know Tanner has a promising career in medicine.”
She smiled, nodding. “He has a good role model.”
They shared a moment, eyes meeting briefly and, okay, he’s definitely not imagining it. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help Tanner in class,” he said. “Genuinely, you’re an incredible teacher. And I’m going to talk to Abby about getting him tested.”
The grin she gave him felt so special, he wanted to pocket it and keep it forever. “I’m so glad to hear that. A lot of parents are not as accepting as you are.”
“Trust me, I know,” he said. “You should see the parents we have to deal with in the ED.”
“I can’t imagine,” she said. Then, after a few seconds, “Uh, well, I don’t have anything else I needed to discuss. Like I said, Tanner’s a great kid, I just wanted to flag this before the year ended. If you don’t have anything else for me, I can walk you out?”
Frank’s heart sank a little. This was it. The school year ended a month and a half from now, and he would likely not see her again. The little moments they’d shared together weren’t nothing, but they weren’t enough for him to cross a boundary with his kid’s teacher.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, a little numbly. “No, I think I’m good.”
“Great, I’ll just… take that back? If you can part with it?” She was teasing again, but it didn’t feel as good as he looked down at the popping bubble toy still in his hands.
“Yeah, right,” he exhaled. “Gotta get me one of those,” he attempted to joke. He handed it over to her and she took it, placing it back on her desk. He stood, looking around the room again as she shifted a few pieces of paper on her desk and scribbled something down quickly.
“You should!” she said brightly, leading him out of the room. She was completely oblivious to his sinking heart as she walked him back through the halls toward the front door. “Honestly, those were never around when I was a kid. I’m really glad I get to provide them for my kids.”
“Kids?” he asked, head jerking in surprise.
They were in the front lobby now, silent in the late afternoon.
She laughed at him… like, at him. It almost felt mean.
“My students, Frank,” she said.
“Oh,” he said in an exhale. “Yeah, duh.”
They were staring at each other, her grinning at him; him feeling like he was losing something important, even though he only discovered it less than an hour ago.
“Frank,” she said. He nodded, knowing she would have to end this because he couldn’t. “I don’t date the parents of my students.”
He blinked. “What?” This was like a shaming ritual.
She handed him a piece of paper. He took it numbly.
“But the school year is over in a month and a half,” she finished. “You should keep in touch. It was great meeting you, Dr. Langdon.” Then she spun on her heel and was gone.
Frank was numb, mouth hanging open staring at her as she walked away. When she was out of sight, he looked at the paper in his hand. There, like scripture handed down, were seven neat digits written in blue pen, with her name and a heart next to it.
He let out a laugh, heart racing. A month and a half, that was easy. That was only one and a half rehab stays, and he’d survived two of those.
He’d call her on the first day of summer, invite her out to a museum or something—she was smart and classy, she’d like that. In the meantime, though, he needed to get one of those popping toys.