Chapter Text
around 3:00 PM September 9, 2026
Frank buckled Tanner into his car seat, only half-listening to him chatter about his day at pre-K.
He had received an email earlier that day letting him know that his application for an apartment (in Mel’s building! 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, 10 minutes closer to the Pitt, still in the kids’ school district, in! Mel’s! building!) was approved, with lease documents attached for him to sign. The lease term started October 1st.
They had agreed that when he was approved for an apartment and had a solid move-in date, it was time to explain to the kids about the divorce: what things would change, and what things would stay the same. It was not a conversation that Frank was particularly looking forward to, not least because of how difficult it had been to convince Abby that they should be holding their kids.
“The idea is a united front, right?” she pointed out when he called her to let her know he had signed the lease. “If, say, I’m holding Tanner, and you’re holding Penny, I’m worried that on a subconscious level they’ll associate Tanner as more ‘mine’ and Penny as more ‘yours’.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” he exclaimed. “They’re both ours! There is no mine or yours, because they’re both our kids!”
“I know that, Frank,” Abby said, only mildly condescending. “It’s not about what’s literally true. It’s about the emotions that they feel at a significant inflection point in their childhood and how that informs our family’s dynamics going forward.”
“Have you been reading self-help books again?” Frank demanded. “You agreed not to do that anymore. The whole point of going to the family therapist was to get specific advice on our divorce and our kids, not generic bullshit."
He sighed, frustrated. "I’m concerned that they’ll feel like we’re withholding affection because the divorce is their fault and how that will impact,” he couldn’t keep his tone from turning a bit mocking, “a significant inflection point in their childhood. Jesus, Abby. Why didn’t you bring this up in our last session?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Frank, I don’t think I could take it if either of them felt abandoned by one of us. Or felt like we had favorites, or like they had to have a favorite parent.” It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. He hadn’t heard her cry in a long time. It’s funny how you don’t notice that someone has stopped feeling like they can be vulnerable around you unless and until they feel comfortable enough again.
And he understood how she was feeling, obviously. He had the same fear curdling deep in his stomach. What if this was the selfish choice? What if they were doing irreparable harm to the two perfect, tiny humans who were his whole heart, just because they couldn’t be adults and get along?
That fear was the other reason they had gone to the family therapist.
But she had agreed with them that divorce was the right choice, Frank reminded himself. The professional had listened to their entire life story and told them it sounded like their children would see a healthy co-parenting relationship instead of a bitter, resentful marriage, and that there was plenty of room for them to build a strong, loving blended family.
The important thing, she had said gently, was that Tanner and Penny knew that they were loved, and would always be loved, and could love each of their parents without the other one being hurt. He repeated this to Abby, now.
“I just think we can figure something out that doesn’t involve each of us literally holding one of them but that still allows us to be close. I know that Tanner at least is going to want to hold on to both of us at some point,” he said. “Penny will want to, I don’t know, bite both of us.”
Abby laughed at that. It was watery, so she had been crying, but at least it sounded like she was listening. “We have to get worried about that, at some point.”
“She doesn’t bite Tanner, so I’m not really worried about her biting other kids, but that’s a conversation for another day.” He thought for a moment. “What if we put both of them between us on the bed in your bedroom and each held one of their hands?”
She hummed, sounding clearer now. “That could work.”
“You’re filing tomorrow, right?”
They had agreed that they would tell the kids before she filed, so that there was time for them to adjust during the 90-day waiting period. It didn’t really make sense, since finding out before or after the legal requirements of the state of Pennsylvania were fulfilled wouldn’t change how their children reacted, but it felt more appropriate anyway.
“Yes. Did you get movers?”
“We need to figure out what I’m taking, first,” he pointed out.
“No, Frank, you need to get movers regardless, so you don’t fuck up your fucking back again. Don’t make me tell Mel.”
“I shouldn’t have given you her number,” he grumbled.
Tanner burst through the front door ahead of Frank enthusiastically, yelling, “MAMA! GUESS WHAT I DID TODAY!” at the top of his lungs and kicking off his shoes. Frank noted that “the top of his lungs” seemed to be getting louder. God help them.
“Hi, baby! I’m so excited to hear all about it,” Abby called from her office.
He followed Tanner towards her voice, calling resignedly, “No running in the house, honey, come on.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” Tanner said, skidding to a halt in his socks at a speed that gave Frank nightmarish visions of cracked skulls. He picked up his son to avert the danger, groaning exaggeratedly to make him laugh.
When they reached Abby’s office, she was sitting on the floor with Penny standing behind her, tangling her tiny fingers in Abby’s hair.
She glanced up at them as much as she could without moving her head. “We’re playing hair salon.”
“I see that,” Frank said, holding in his laughter at the look on her face. “Penny, did you make Mama’s hair pretty?”
“So so pretty,” their daughter said happily. She seemed to be unable to extract her fingers from Abby’s hair. He hoped they wouldn’t need scissors again. That was not the mood Abby needed to be in for this conversation.
“I think Mama’s hair is done now, actually.” Abby said. “I feel very pretty, honey, thank you.” She reached up and began carefully pulling Penny’s hands out of her hair.
“Mama, no, you’ll wreck it!” she whined.
Frank put Tanner down and crossed to Abby’s desk. Her teether, never far from her side although her third birthday had long since passed, was sitting next to the keyboard. He picked it up, sat down on the floor next to Penny, and showed it to her.
“What if we play woodpecker, instead?” Woodpecker was just letting her chew on literally anything in reach, but usually her teether, while Frank pretended to be the wood, screaming in agony and dramatically dying at her direction. It was her favorite game.
They had a weird daughter.
Woodpecker and Tanner telling Abby about his day turned into a rewatch of Phineas and Ferb: Summer Belongs to You, one of Tanner’s favorite episodes of the few cartoons that he liked that Penny tolerated (she was almost exclusively a Blue's Clues kid). There was some initial conflict over an echo microphone during the songs, but eventually they both settled into sitting as close to the television as they were allowed.
When it started getting closer to dinner time, Abby looked at Frank pointedly and he knew it was time. They had agreed he would handle this indication that there was a serious topic coming, she would take the initial basic explanation of divorce--and of marriage, if need be--and they would take turns offering reassurances and answering questions.
“Hey, kiddos. Can you both look at me, please?” He waited until both of their faces were pointed at him. “Mama and I need to tell you something important. It’s not something that’s bad or scary, it just means there’s going to be a lot of change in our lives coming up. We can tell you now or after dinner. Tanner, which would you rather do?”
“Is it a little brother?” Tanner asked seriously.
“No, honey, it’s not.”
He nodded. “I want after dinner, please.”
“Okay. Penny, which would you rather do?”
She cocked her head, looking at Tanner. “Why not now?”
“I’m hungry,” he shrugged.
Penny looked at Frank again. “How long is after dinner?”
“It depends on how long it takes for the food to get here and for us to eat,” he said.
She appeared to consider the question carefully. Then, “What is dinner?”
“Good question, Penny Lane,” Frank said, hiding a smile at how seriously she was approaching her answer. “I think Tanner picked last time, so it’s your turn to pick. What do you want for dinner?”
She grinned. “Tacos! The ones from last time!”
“I think we can do that.” He looked at Abby, who was sitting at the other end of the couch, hugging herself. “Do you still have whatever the UberEats subscription is called?”
She nodded. “But I’m pretty sure we got La Palapa last time, and they do their own delivery. I’ll start an order.”
‘After dinner’ turned out to mean about an hour and a half later. Tanner had long since finished eating and was building with his Lincoln Logs on the living room floor with Abby, while Penny ate slowly and carefully so as to keep the filling in her tacos.
“Done!” she announced finally.
“Great, honey,” Abby said, placing a log where Tanner was pointing. “How about you bring Daddy your plate and then we’ll go to Mama’s room?”
Frank was doing dishes. He figured he owed Abby some dishes.
“I can wash it! Daddy, let me wash it,” Penny demanded.
“Not this time, sweetie. You need to go with Mama. I’m going to finish your plate super fast and be right there.”
“I can do it super fast,” she negotiated.
“Or,” Frank suggested, “you could surprise Mama and Tanner with a pillow fight.”
Abby, waiting in the kitchen doorway, gave him a dirty look. Penny gasped, then shoved her plate at him, hardly waiting for him to take it before she was pelting for the main bedroom.
“Slow down, baby!” Abby called after her. “Thanks for that, Frank.”
He shrugged. “It got her moving.”
Once they were settled in Abby’s room with the kids between them bickering over the pillow that Tanner had been hugging-–before Penny stole it to ambush him-–he and Abby looked at each other for a long moment before she took a deep breath.
Frank didn’t really remember the drive to Mel’s once the kids were in bed.
He had been spending most nights at hers already, but she had made sure to tell him specifically to come over after the conversation if he needed it-–or if he felt like using.
Which he appreciated very much, but he wasn’t going to ask Mel to keep him from relapsing. He would call his sponsor, and if his sponsor didn’t pick up he would call Grace, and if Grace didn’t pick up he would call Cassie McKay. She had offered her phone number and whatever help she could give during his first shift back and reiterated it since-–as someone who’d been in his position, she always emphasized, which was the only reason she was on the list.
It wasn’t because he didn’t trust Mel, obviously. He trusted her more than anyone. But it wasn’t an emotional responsibility he was willing to put on her. Maybe yet, maybe ever. It had also been one of Grace’s suggestions to help keep all the ‘major life changes’ he was experiencing from risking his sobriety, no matter how many times he protested that Mel wasn’t going anywhere.
He felt more certain of that every day.
Mel opened the door to her apartment, took one look at him, then threw her arms around him and squeezed him as hard as she could. She pulled him inside. Frank realized faintly he was crying.
“It--it went as well as it could, Mel,” he said miserably. “I don’t know why I’m crying. We knew they’d be upset, they didn’t ask any questions we weren’t prepared for…I don’t know why I’m crying. I promise I don’t want to be married to her anymore. I…why am I crying?”
Mel brushed his bangs back from his face where they were getting long, cupping the side of his face with her palm and studying him for a long moment, before taking his hand.
“Come on, baby,” she said softly, tugging him gently towards her room.
When they got there, Mel guided him to lie down on her bed, before climbing up next to him and putting her arms around him again.
Frank made a whimpering noise. He still wasn’t sure why. He pressed his forehead into the crook of Mel’s neck, sliding his arms around her waist. She cradled the back of his head gently with one hand and started rubbing his back with the other.
Distantly, he heard her murmuring, “It’ll be all right. They’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Abby will be okay. Everything will be all right. You’re still family. We’ll get through this as a family. They’ll be all right.”
He started sobbing in earnest, then.
No, Mel wasn’t going anywhere.