For whatever reason (probably because I was making espresso and thinking about Frank) a memory of Ted flashed through my mind: When I was in the hospital he read my diaries. At the time the diary reading felt like an extreme violation, but Ted's intentions were pure. He wanted to understand what was going on with me.
In my memory, he was framed by doorway of my hospital room when he asked me why I'd written that Frank was the apple of my eye. He was standing in the same place when he asked what the doc meant when she said I had a secret.
The first question I explained away with wild lies and the second I answered honestly, and in that moment I tricked myself into thinking there would be instantaneous forgiveness as a reward for honesty and because I was in a mental ward.
There wasn't and, of course, no amount of mental illness can reduce the impact of betrayal. And later when my fixation / unwillingness to give Frank up became clear, Ted gave up on me.
Whatever Ted's faults, he did try and he did care. It's a shame it was me he bothered with. I hope he finds love and happiness in his new marriage.