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You think she’s gonna be okay?
Frank asked Al-Hashimi thinking she would know given their history. When she didn't, he followed Mel to the stairwell.
There, he found her slumped against the marble wall. At the risk of startling her, he sat an arm away from her on the same step. Proximity always helped, but he’d never seen Mel so stagnant.
“So, you doing alright?”
“It’s just been a—a day.”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded. “I figured you could use some company after Becca…”
“She'll be fine. It's a UTI so meds will clear it up.”
Frank hummed in agreement, watching her hands wring themselves red. He extended his hand and placed it in her lap, under her jittery ones.
Without any hesitation, Mel wrapped her fingers around his hand, kneading it the way she had done to her own.
They sat side by side for a few moments while Mel hummed something softly as she stared ahead. A song she heard on her morning commute or something she played in the background while she soaked in the bath after work.
There was a speech up his sleeve. He figured she needed his presence more than a pep talk though. Her edges still frayed, her mind still rushed, her shoulders still scrunched upward. It was best to simply be here with her than impart any wisdom.
Frank liked her like this. At peace even when their lives raged on outside the stairwell doors. The pressure around his hand loosened as Mel relaxed.
In her, he saw a plight he’d recognize anywhere. Loneliness. That conclusion found him while he spun his wedding band with his thumb away from her line of sight.
Anything Mel wanted, he'd give. He'd let her squeeze his hand blue if it satisfied her. If she simply wanted a friend, he'd be that too.
Funny, Frank thought. His cure had been here all along.