Francisco looks across the room at Dr. Hutchison. For the last three weeks, they have seeing each other about three times a week; the doctor hoping to get to the root of his patient's problem and Francisco going along with the sessions in order to be allowed to leave.
"I see that your stay at the facility is almost over," Hutchison remarks, "are you nervous?"
Francisco shakes his head, "I'm more excited. For the last thirty days, I've counted down until I'm allowed to go."
Hutchison looks through his notes, "That isn't the only thing still on your mind, is it?"
It isn't new to the doctor, there are plenty of sentenced patients who just wait as time runs out and they are free to go; some take the program seriously and keep their sobriety, but others eventually go back to abusing their drug of choice. Hutchison is a little concerned for Francisco; he hasn't opened up as much he would like about any problem and unless he has people to support him, it's likely that he'll go back to taking pills to treat his back.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do when you go home?"
"Probably rest up and go to work the next day."
"I meant in terms of keeping yourself sober. There are programs in the city that can help you like Narcotics Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous also helps people with drug abuse problems, and if you don't like those options, then we could continue our sessions."
"I thought that you only worked here?"
Hutchison goes to his desk and pulls out a card from a drawer. He hands it to Francisco, "I sometimes take on some patients who I meet here. Sometimes they're comfortable with me and they don't want to go about explaining their situations to their new doctors."
Francisco looks at the card; he doesn't see much reason to continue the sessions, but just to be polite, he tells the doctor, "I'll keep you in mind."
As the doctor takes his seat, he informs his patient, "If for any reason, I'm not available, I can get you in touch with someone who is available to handle your case."
He hasn't thought much about what he plans on doing; he assumed that it would be easy once he overcame the withdrawal symptoms. For the last couple of years, he has seen Lynn, who, aside from the incident when she accidentally drank the hot toddy, was fine with people around her drinking; if she could do it, then he sees no reason that he can't figure it out.
"Good to know," Francisco says, as he puts his card away.
Bryton stares at his charging cell phone. Every vibration or noise has been forcing him into a scramble as he looks to see if he is missing a phone call from his new potential employer. Last week, he had an interview over the phone for a new job and he has been waiting for a response since. This job is his chance to move up in his field and possibly get in on the ground floor if he ever gets that damn phone to ring.
"Why hiring managers take so long to call back? Their whole job is to hire people is it really so hard to determine who the best candidate is?" he begins to tap his foot, "I mean, menial jobs hire people immediately, how is it that a higher grade job struggles to do so, especially when they have a few open positions."
Lynn walks past him as he nervously taps his foot, "Why are you so worried? You know that you're gonna get the job," she tries to encourage him.
"You don't know that, what if there was someone better than me?!" Bryton asks in a panic. "I was told at the interview that they would get back with me soon, but now I wish that I asked for an actual date."
"That sounds weird," Lynn says as she heads to grab a snack. "Besides how would they be able to tell you?"
"I don't know!" he says with a panic in his voice.
It isn't only the possibility of the new job that has him anxious, but also moving to another state away from his family and everything that he's known. It was bound to happen, after all, you have to go where there is work, although he would have preferred to have stayed put.
"You'll be fine, and if you don't get the job, it'll be okay. You can always find another, or maybe start your own."
"That requires money, besides, this is my chance to work for someone who just branched out of a well-known company in the industry, after that, maybe I can think about doing the same thing myself."
Lynn stops to think about it, "What well-known computer software companies are here in Detroit?"
"Well, that's the thing, the job is going to be out in Washington," he says. "I mean, I didn't want to move to the other side of the country, but it's a great opportunity and I can't let it slip through my hands."
"Don't blame you. You gotta chase the prize!" she says excitedly.
Bryton is concerned; Lynn hasn't been the best when it comes to money and he can't imagine that with her current job that she'll be able to handle the rent on the two bedroom apartment, but that can't be his concern right now.
The phone rings Bryton pounces to answer the phone.
Lynn watches him from the kitchen and hears him as he talks to the person on the other line. She can see a smile on his face and can hear him holding back his excitement – he got the job. When Bryton hangs up the phone, he happily jumps up and down, "I did it!" he screams in excitement. "I got the job!"
She goes over and high-fives him, "See! I told you that you were going to get it. When do you start?"
"They're expecting me there in about two weeks," he tells her before listing off things that he'll need to do before moving, "I gotta pack, hire some movers, find a place to live, I should probably do that first," Then realization dawns on him, "Are you going to be okay?"
Lynn shrugs her shoulders, "I'll be fine, besides I've always wanted my own place."
To be sure that she remembers that she'll have more space than needed, Bryton asks, "What are you going to do about the extra room?"
"I don't know, maybe I can sublease, and if not that then I can ask the landlord for a smaller apartment. I'm sure that there's a free place that I use."
"What about moving back home? You'll be able to save some money and–"
"I'll be fine," she stresses. "Why are you so worried about me anyway? I'm not some little kid that can't take care of herself."
That isn't the reason that Bryton is concerned; Lynn has recently stopped drinking, it may have come at the cost of their nightlife, but he isn't going to complain if it means knowing where Lynn is in the morning. There were mornings where he would receive phone calls from police stations, random restaurants and, to his surprise, Canada. However, even though she has been sticking to her sobriety, he can't imagine that she'll be okay with only two months under her belt.
"Save some money, chances are your parents won't charge rent and maybe you can find a better job."
As if she isn't convinced, she says, "I have a decent job."
"You have a job, get a better one."
She crosses her arms and looks at him with a knowing smile, "You're only saying that because you just got a better job. I'll be fine, besides, might as well see this whole living on my own thing for a bit, and like I said, I can always get a smaller place."
As Bryton pulls up a website to search for apartments on his phone, he tells her, "You may want to ask now, you never know who'll want the room, and you can get the privacy you want too."
He does make a good point. For as long as Lynn could remember, she's always had a roommate and now this is her opportunity to have a place to herself; there's no point in getting a stranger when she can lease a smaller place.
"I think you make a good point," she tells him. "By the way, congrats on the new job."
Lynn pulls into the parking lot of the facility. She can hear a vibration from the cup holder where her phone is, and she assumes that it's Francisco. It has been a long thirty days of trying to keep things from breaking around the house, doing the manager tasks that she hired him to do, and keeping herself from worrying about how he is doing. Despite knowing that he was getting better each week, she is worried about how he's going to do now that he's going to be less supervised. She remembered the first couple of weeks – temptation was everywhere she went from supermarkets to her beloved sports games that she would watch on tv. At some point, it became easier to ignore, but Francisco has an actual injury that isn't going to go away at the snap of his fingers.
When she parks her car, she checks her phone and sees that it's a message from Andrew. It isn't often that they message each other, but since Elena has been staying at her mom's full time, the two adults have texted one another to keep each other in the loop about what is going on between Caroline and Francisco.
She reads the message on her phone and smiles at the news. Lynn types out her message as she says it to herself, "Congratulations," and sends it to him.
Another message arrives, Lynn reads it out loud, "Can you do me a favor and not bring it up to Francisco or Elena?"
"Don't know why you'd think I'd tell, Francisco, but," she says to herself, despite knowing that she isn't going to get an answer, then she types out, "Promise."
Lynn looks at the time, sets her phone down and looks as far as she can in the direction of the exit before she looks at the time on her phone again; this is it – in a few short minutes, Francisco gets to go home. They have been looking forward to this day since the day the judge sentenced him and when Francisco mentioned that he would be allowed to leave as expected, it made her jump for joy. Since hearing the news, she told herself that she didn't want to run late today and she made an effort to leave the house as early as possible to be here when he walks out of those doors.
She spots Francisco wheeling himself out of the entrance and Lynn honks her horn excitedly to get his attention. He spots Dutch and waves to Lynn, letting her know that he saw her.
As he approaches the car, Lynn jumps out to meet him, but he stops her in her tracks and asks, "Can you open the trunk? I need to put my wheelchair in there."
Annoyed, Lynn says, "Sure," and opens the trunk for him.
He places his wheelchair into the truck and slowly steps towards the passenger seat. Lynn follows suit and sits in the driver's seat ready to give him a piece of her mind for his aloof behavior.
"Look, I get that–"
Francisco cuts her off with a brief kiss. Before she is able to return it, he pulls away and looks over at her, "I know that it's only been a week since your last visit, but it's nice to see a familiar face after being in there."
Lynn looks away from him, shy from the sudden kiss, "You missed me that much?"
He decides to play with her, "Maybe a little more, but it's too early in the day for that and maybe once the anticonvulsants kick in."
She slams her head on the steering wheel, "Don't play with me like that!"
"Alright, I'll leave you alone, but I meant it. It felt like torture being in there without being able to see everyone I care about for such a long time. You know, some of those guys in there voluntarily choose to be there for months at a time, and I couldn't even stand a short time."
"Probably didn't help that your back hurts as much as it does. Good thing you got a wheelchair from the staff," she jokes in as she reverses the car out of the parking space.
Francisco chuckles a bit, "Yeah, maybe."
As Lynn looks out at the road, she asks, "What's going to happen now? Meetings? Doctors? What?"
"I was prescribed some anti-seizure medication to help relax my nerves and I've got an appointment with the physical therapist later in the week. Apparently, I can't be trusted, so they're picking me up at work."
"Seriously?"
He smiles, "No, I asked for them to pick me up and drop me off. I doubt that you want to spend your lunch break driving me around to appointments."
"I don't. So is that going to do it? Is that going to treat you?"
Francisco shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know. The doctors said that if I'm not getting better, then I'm going to be recommended," he swallows, before saying, "surgery."
Upon hearing the fear in his voice, Lynn takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze to remind him that he'll get through it; hopefully without the need to go under.
As the moving truck pulls out, Lynn waves goodbye to her friend, "Good luck to you out in Washington," she tells him.
Bryton waves back to her, "I'll call you when I get there!" he yells as he drives away in his car.
"You better!" she answers back.
Lynn looks out in the direction that he is driving until his car and the moving company's van are out of sight. When she walks back into her apartment and it hits her how quiet it is; she's spent her whole life surrounded by the noise of her siblings and her friends that it's almost foreign to have absolute silence. Lynn takes a seat in front of the couch, she grabs the remote and turns on the tv; hoping that a little background noise will make the apartment less unsettling.
"What do I do?" she asks herself. "Is there anything to do?" Lynn groans, "Days off are boring when there isn't anyone around."
She picks up a cricket ball and tosses it up in the air; trying to think of something to do, "Let's see…Margo doesn't live around here, Megan is off somewhere, Bryton's gone, who else is there?!"
Lynn remembers her siblings; Lincoln and her older sisters are probably busy with school or their love lives, but she's sure that her younger sisters are probably free.
She lets the cricket ball fall to the ground and grabs her phone to text her siblings. Over the years, the former athlete hasn't had much of an opportunity to talk with her family aside from birthdays and special occasions, especially when everyone has conflicting schedules, but there has to be someone available to hang out or talk to.
Lynn sends out a mass text to her siblings to see who is available to hang out for an afternoon. Her phone begins to buzz and she excitedly reads some of the messages – Lucy is going out later tonight with Silas, Lana is grounded until she raises her grades, Lola is preparing for a pageant, Lisa is helping Lana with studying, and Lily has homework.
"I thought you were dating Rocky?" Lynn asks out loud while responding to the next text messages. "Since when do you fail? Wait…you stink at math and was there a race on or for one to participate in? Why wasn't I invited?!" she asks. "What is it this time, Lols? Miss Teen…" Lynn doesn't know how to finish the message. She erases the message and wishes her luck instead.
She slouches on the couch, "Well there goes that plan," Lynn complains, but rather than give up, she gets onto her feet, grabs her keys and phone to head out the door. "Check my pockets," she reminds herself as she pats the outside of her pockets to make sure that she has everything that she'll need.
"Let's see what Detroit has to offer tonight," she tells herself as she walks out the door.
Lynn pulls into the driveway. She takes the wheelchair out of the back to wheel it to Francisco, but he stubbornly walks into the house without it. He has spent weeks on that thing, and while he has made an effort to stop using it, he never got further than a few steps each time.
"What are you doing?! I thought that your back hurt?"
He turns to her, "Lynn, a short walk from Dutch into the living room isn't going to kill me. I can do it," he says as he drags his feet and grabs onto any sturdy surface that he can for support.
She watches him from the doorway; Lynn can't blame him for not wanting to use the wheelchair, she knows that she probably wouldn't want to use it either, but she can't stand to see him suffer as he walks.
Francisco crashes onto the couch and Lynn follows behind him in his chair. He looks over at her and asks, "What do I need to get done before I go into work on Monday?"
She's surprised, but asks, "You want to go into work?"
"I've already taken a month off; I need something to do to keep my mind off of everything."
"And work is going to be that?" she asks.
He nods his head, "It would help. Didn't you do something like this when you went sober?"
She stops to think about it; work was only to pay bills and rent, but when she had free time, she looked for whatever game she could play to keep herself occupied, "Yeah, I get it. You know, I used to spend hours at the gym – punching, running, swimming, lifting, just so that for a minute I wouldn't have to think about alcohol, then eventually, the voice gets a little quieter."
"How long until that happens?"
Lynn shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know, depends on you."
"Well hopefully, work will be enough until physical therapy starts to work its magic," he says. Soon, he remembers something; when they were young, and even a few years ago, Lynn would offer massages to treat pain, "Hey Lynn, is there any chance that you can help me out with my back?"
She isn't sure, her usual patients were friends and family members that had small aches, Francisco, however, needs a professional, but Lynn is willing to take on the challenge to help him get through the day. She gets up from his wheelchair to help him get off the couch and onto the chair, "Alright, I'll go as easy as I can."
Those words somewhat scared him, but he is willing to take a chance if it means that he'll be able to get some relief until he has to take his medicine again. As she wheels him to their bedroom, he looks up at her and asks, "You started drinking in college, right?"
Lynn quietly nods her head, "Yeah, why?"
He shakes his head, "I was curious. Was it hard to go through classes?"
She scoffs, "Yeah, I busted my ass to get into Michigan, the classes were hard, alcohol made it worse, but I eventually took them all. By the skin of my teeth, but I took them."
"Do you even wonder what school would be like if you didn't drink? If you did it straight and study the same way that you did to get into school?"
Lynn sighs, "Nothing would have really changed. I did good my first year because of my tutor, then he graduated and I couldn't figure out how to study."
"Why didn't you get another tutor or ask Lisa?"
"I liked him and Lisa was busy with her own things, besides mom and dad always told us that once we got ourselves into college then we should be able to get through it without bothering Lisa."
"That stinks, but it is understandable, what good is a degree–"
She can't take hearing more about those bad years, "Enough about college and drinking and possibly drugs," she interrupts, "Let's get your back fixed up a bit," she says as she pushes him faster to the bed.
Lynn stops and helps him get onto the bed, "Tell me if I hurt you," she warns him as she cracks her fingers to get started.
Upon hearing the sound of her cracking knuckles, he begins to panic and turns away from her, "You know what? I think that I'm feeling a lot better now. Don't worry about me."
Lynn jumps onto the bed and lands next to him. She rests her head against her arm and looks over at Francisco, "Are you sure? I promise that I won't hurt you," she teases.
"I'm sure," he says before leaning over and giving her a kiss.
Lynn walks down the street. She doesn't know where to go, and she has no one around to help keep her entertained. Before, she had her siblings, then friends, and roommates, but without them around, she's bored. She didn't have most of her old sporting equipment that she used growing up and making a trip back home to play with it seems silly especially since the sun is beginning to set.
"I got too used to having people around," she tells herself.
She stops walking and looks around at the people as they pass by her on foot or on the streets; to her, everyone appeared to have a place to go or something to do, but she can't find something like that for herself.
"What do twenty-something-year-olds like doing that isn't sports?" she asks out loud.
No one answers.
In college, it was easy since there was always a group of people to hang around with – Bryton loved video games and tinkering around with computers and Megan was a fan of reading; she can't believe that a few short years ruined her ability to have fun.
She continues to walk and passes by a bar with young patrons laughing, talking, and drinking the night away. Lynn wonders if that's what she would be doing if she had friends or still drank. With about two months under her belt, Lynn hasn't been tempted to take a drink, but she did have her moments when she would be curious.
"I mean, two months is still two months! Is someone who has a problem able to do it as easily as I did? No! Meaning I can handle a simple drink without any issue," she convinces herself. "Only someone with a problem can't do it."
Lynn continues her walk. A colorful array of neon signs line the streets and she begins to wonder if all anyone can do at night to have fun is grab a drink. She swallows, but turns away; she may be alone, but she's fine.
That thought begins to creep up into her mind – she's spending her time alone. Over the years, she has begun to drift away from the people around her, or maybe they drifted from her; her family is branching out and doing better things, her friends are succeeding in life, and she's all alone, walking on the sidewalks of Detroit trying to think of how she can keep herself entertained while alone and surrounded by her vice.
"How do people do it?!"
Lynn notices a sign for a liquor store and slowly steps towards it. She quietly convinces herself, "One bottle, no, one drink can't be that bad. Besides, I did it for two months, one night and I should be able to go back – easy!"
She walks through the door and looks over at the cashier, who looks at her, "Do you need any help looking for anything?"
Lynn shakes her head, "Nope," she tells him, as she walks down the aisles to pick out a bottle.
She looks through the shelves; during her college years, especially when she was underage, she didn't have much of a choice in what she would be given by Bryton's friend. As Lynn got older, she could pick out her own stuff, but it rarely mattered since she would chug it down rather quickly.
Lynn looks through the bottles of vodka, and asks herself, "Do I have orange juice at home?" she shrugs her shoulders and takes a random bottle off the shelf. "One bottle, that's self-control," she tells herself as she heads to the counter to pay for the bottle.
The night is a bust, at least that's what Lynn tells herself. She thinks about how on any other night she and her friends would have found something to do, how all the siblings would spend the night watching movies, but anything fun that she can think of, isn't fun without someone next to her.
She walks around for a few more blocks, giving Detroit one more chance of a fun night outside of her apartment, but nothing seems to be going on that is worth her time. Lynn feels a headache at the thought of not being able to find something to do alone, and decides that home will have to do.
"How the hell can a city this big not have anything to do at night?" she complains.
As Lynn walks through the front door of her apartment, she sets down her bag by the couch and she grabs a glass, "One drink and I'll be fine," she says to herself as she walks to the living room.
Lynn grabs a bottle of vodka and pours herself a shot.
Lynn pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant with Francisco riding next to her. While she thought that he might want a few days away from the stresses of work, he made it clear that going into work is to help him forget about not having his pills, keeping himself busy and getting out of the house.
"Ready?"
He turns to her, "For the last time, yes. Are you going to keep asking me that?"
She opens the door to get out, "Only one more time and then I'll stop."
Francisco rolls his eyes and slowly steps out into the parking lot; he can see patches of ice and is almost afraid of falling, or worse, being tempted to slip on one. Lynn notices that he isn't moving and she assumes that he is waiting to get onto his wheelchair until she is there to help him out.
"Give me a sec," she says as she as runs to his side and help him out of the car, "Ready?"
With sarcasm in his voice, he tells her, "You weren't kidding about that."
Lynn laughs as she pushes him into the restaurant, and then, loudly announces, "Guess who's back?" she says for their coworkers to hear.
Francisco, annoyed at her outburst, complains, "Do you have to make such a big deal about it?" he asks. "I wasn't gone that long."
"Yeah, of course," she says sarcastically, "only a month off shortly after you started. At this point, your biggest concern is people thinking that I gave you special treatment because we're dating."
The rest of the employees look over to see Lynn and the man that she wheeled in. Over the course of the month, everyone had their own ideas as to what happened to Francisco after his sudden disappearance; some ranging from quitting to working from home. However, when they all see him in a wheelchair, everyone begins to quietly mutter to themselves as they tried to make sense of what happened to Francisco.
Lynn begins to announce, "Everyone! May I present–"
He begins to stand up from the wheelchair, "Enough," he interrupts her, "It's fine, I had a bit of a mishap when it was snowing, I saw some doctors, they kept me under observation and then I spent a lot of time recovering."
Pete asks, "You're better?"
Francisco nods his head, "Yes, I'm–" Pete walks away while everyone continues to listen, "the wheelchair is just for long walks." He struggles to get up, but is able to take a few steps, "See, I'm fine."
The other employees stare at Lynn, as if trying to determine if Francisco was being honest. She nods her head, technically, he didn't lie, but he didn't tell the whole truth either; not that she can blame him.
Lynn begins taking the wheelchair towards the office and tells the others, "Alright, that's enough of that, let's get ready for service."
As the employees begin to disperse back to their areas and as Francisco heads to his office, Lynn waits for him and quietly asks, "Didn't want anyone to know?"
With sarcasm in his voice, "Yeah, because I'm dying to tell everyone what really happened and if I told the truth, then it would raise a lot of questions and I don't feel like spending time doing so. Besides, it gets everyone back to work and keeps them out of our business."
Lynn opens the office door and, at this point, Francisco is dragging his feet in pain, "Do you want to use your wheelchair?"
Francisco shakes his head, "Its fine. It's just a few more steps," he says through his teeth as he walks into the office. He takes a seat behind the desk and tries to take in deep breaths; he never knew that he could be so winded from a simple walk, but is pain is taking a toll on him.
As Lynn is about to close the door, she remembers a pack of gum that she kept in her bag. She calls out to him, "Hey Francisco," he looks up, "catch!" she says as she tosses the bubblegum at him.
He catches it and is confused as to why she gave it to him.
"I know that you're craving sweets – don't lie to me," she jokes as she closes the door and walks to the kitchen.
Francisco looks over all the papers on the desk, he needs to catch up with everything and make sure that the restaurant is back in tip-top shape. It isn't that he doesn't trust Lynn, but there was a reason that he was brought on board. As he looks at the papers and the computer, he realizes that Lynn did fine on her own, she didn't need him to do it or correct anything and the restaurant was going to be fine until the next set of orders needed to be fulfilled.
He places his phone on his desk and stares at the computer; after a month of focusing on his mental health and addiction and even seeing that things were okay without him, Francisco didn't know what to feel. He was forced to talk during sessions about his emotions and what is troubling him but he can't understand why he's frustrated about something that needed to be done while he was away.
"I should have taken a few days off like Lynn said," he tells himself. Rather than wait around, he gets to work, sitting around isn't going to make the work appear and everyone else is counting on him doing his job.
"A good worker can create work," he tells himself as he searches for something that he can do that needs to be done.
Hours pass and Francisco looks at his watch; it's almost lunch time and he was barely able to find anything worth doing. He has a few minutes to spare before Lynn comes in with something to eat, so he grabs his phone and takes a look at the calendar; he has a physical therapy appointment in a few days, but not much after that except for work and more appointments with the physical therapist.
Francisco looks over at the clock; he still has a few minutes, and he wonders if now is a good time to talk to Caroline about Elena, "I've been good. No temptations and seeing real doctors…" he taps his fingers, "No, I should wait a bit, but then again, if I don't call, how is she going to know that I'm trying."
That settles it, and Francisco goes to his list of contacts and presses on Caroline's name. He makes a list of what he plans on telling her in his head and how he plans on telling her, "C'mon c'mon, pick up," he says in the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Caroline, how are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine, Francisco, and you?" she says, as if exhausted at the thought of talking to him. For weeks, she has been feeling ill and talking with Francisco, presumably about Elena, is not on the top of her list of things to do at the moment. It took weeks before Elena stopped asking about whether or not she would be going to Francisco's and while she doesn't enjoy lying to her daughter about why she can't see him, Caroline knows that it wouldn't be smart to tell her without doing some research.
"I'm doing good. I recently did a stint to get sober," he starts, "I've got thirty-two days," he adds.
Caroline sighs. She knows that he only said that to get on her good side and to reconsider her keeping Elena from him. She understands that he wants to see her, and Elena wants to see him, but thirty-two days isn't going to cut it.
"That's good…"
He hoped that should have said more, so he adds more information to the story, "I've been seeing a doctor, and a therapist, and I've got an appointment with physical therapist."
"Great…"
Francisco scowls. He is showing her that he's trying more to get his life back on track and all he's getting are short responses which aren't telling him anything, "Is that it?"
She sighs, "What do you want me to say, Francisco? That everything changed because of thirty-two days? That I should just ignore years of you lying and saying that you were trying to get better when you weren't? That our daughter is going to be fine and that she should go see you again?"
"It would be nice," he says, while trying to hold back anger.
"I'm sorry, but no. Maybe another time, but right now, it's best that Elena be here with me and Andrew." The sound of another call coming in causes Caroline to cut the call short, "I have to go, goodbye, Francisco."
She hangs up and Francisco punches his desk in frustration, "What the hell was the point of all that work if it isn't going to change anything?"
He can feel his back aching and, out of habit, he searches through his drawer for an amber bottle. Francisco spots the familiar white cap and he pulls it out. He can feel that the bottle is light and he notices a piece of paper rolled inside, "What the?" he pulls out the paper and sees a message written inside.
Nice try
Francisco groans. He should have expected this, especially since Lynn wasn't leaving him alone for long, but he can't believe that she bothered to look through the work desk. Francisco begins to think of his options – he can't go anywhere without someone noticing that he's missing, but his back and his head are killing him. He taps his fingers on the desk as he tries to think of what he can do.
In desperation, he empties his pockets in hopes of finding a loose pill. He spreads the contents of his pockets around, but he can't find anything to help his ailing body.
"Maybe, I should, um…I should call," he nervously swallows as he presses on the contact information, "Hey…um…I need to see you again, soon," he stresses.
"Four days," Bryton groans as he rests his head on the steering wheel, "that was way too much time in a car. Well, at least I'm here," he sighs in relief as he looks up at the door of his new apartment. "I hope the movers get here early in the morning."
With his keys in hand, he walks into the empty apartment and takes a seat on the floor. He closes his eyes, feeling exhaustion take over until he remembers that he has people waiting for him to call to let know that he arrived safely.
Bryton pulls out his phone and starts by calling his parents, his grandmother, then his sister, and finally his friends; each short conversation getting easier as Bryton tells each person. By the time he gets to Lynn, he is ready to fall asleep, but he figures that a simple phone call is easier than a text message that he'll likely screw up.
"Bryton!" Lynn slurs, "Where are you?"
He sighs in disbelief; it hasn't been a week and she's already started drinking, "I just got to Washington."
"Are you gonna look at all those statues? Bring me a souvenir when you get back."
"Wrong Washington, Lynn, and I'm not going back."
"Why not?"
"I got a new job. How long have you been drinking for?"
He waits for her to respond, but an answer never comes. The sound of the phone falling to the ground and muffled talking is all Bryton can hear as he waits to see if Lynn remembers to pick up the phone.
It's moments like this that make him feel bad for ever getting her started with alcohol in the first place. They were just stupid college kids who would drink to let go of the stresses of test and classes, but Lynn took it further than any of the three of them ever did – she would skip classes, miss assignments, forgo studying, and get by through sheer luck. From what Megan told him, Lynn would sleep in and because they were friends, she would help the former athlete wake up to go to class or remind her about tests, but it was bound to get old. Towards the end of their senior year, Megan stopped caring and pressured him to stop helping her in an effort to get Lynn to face the consequences of her choices, but he couldn't stop as quickly as she could; he felt guilty.
He doesn't know what made Lynn quit drinking a few months ago, but for most of the summer, she was doing fine; with a little help from him, in the form of staring. Bryton assumed that she didn't like seeing him disappointed and it worked; however, he didn't expect her to fall in a matter of days.
"You know what, Lynn? I'm sorry that I ever got you started like this, but I think its best that we don't talk for a while. You know, I feel bad that this is what one stupid night spiraled into and I'll find a way to make amends to you someday. In the mean time, let me know when you decide to worry about yourself the way Megan and I did when we were at school. Maybe we can try being friends again…goodbye, Lynn."
He hangs up. He knows that she probably didn't hear the message, but he was glad to get it off of his chest.
Hutchison looks over at Francisco. His patient hasn't been out of the facility for long and was already tempted to start taking his pain medicine again, and that concerns the doctor. From what he has been told, Francisco hasn't had a chance to see the physical therapist, but the doctors wrote a prescription for anti-seizure medication that could help him, yet he was still tempted by his pain pills.
"Do you know what may have triggered your desire?"
Francisco rolls his eyes, "I was in pain. What else could it be?"
"Emotional or physical?"
He doesn't answer immediately. Francisco is mad at Caroline for keeping Elena away even when he's trying to quit taking his medicine, but it still isn't enough for her. One of the things that he was looking forward to when he finished his thirty days was being able to see Elena, but there's no way that he can do it without Caroline getting in the way.
"I was talking with Caroline. I brought up seeing Elena and she disagreed," he sighs, "Apparently, I haven't been sober long enough for me to see my own daughter. What kind of craziness is that? For years, I was using, able to keep a job, and take care of Elena, but suddenly; being off of my pills isn't enough?"
Hutchison only answers with, "Okay…"
"What?"
"Nothing, I said, 'okay'."
The two sit in silence, until Francisco breaks it, "You're thinking that I've screwed up so many times, that she's given me so many opportunities, and now I have no right to tell her that I want to see our daughter so that she can see her father again."
"Is that what you think is going on?"
"I think that I," he loudly starts, before quieting his voice, "that I'm working hard, trying to get everything back to normal, but it isn't enough for her…for anyone…"
"Are you mad at her?"
Francisco rests his head between his hands as he tries to think. For the last couple of hours, he was, but now saying everything out loud makes him realize that he's being ridiculous. The former couple agreed years ago that Caroline would play a larger role in Elena's care and that includes keeping her safe – mentally, emotionally, and physically.
"I don't know. I'm used to her forgiving me easily, but I guess three strikes and I'm out," he sighs in defeat. "You know, my mom keeps insisting that Elena is worried about me and thinks about how she hasn't seen me."
"Does your mom know that you were here?"
Francisco nods his head, "It's hard to disappear without someone noticing, especially when she called my phone and Lynn answered."
"Have you spoken to her since you've gone home?"
"Not yet. It's hard to think of what I'm going to say and I'm also going to need to take some time to look up how to say 'court-ordered drug rehabilitation' and most of my explanation in Spanish." Francisco sighs, "I have become such a screw-up. My whole life I could see in my mom's eyes that I was the one that she was proud of – when I would get good grades, win trophies, got my scholarship to go to school. Now I'm a fucking mess who is only holding on because of an easy job that I was given," he begins to mutter, "I can't see my daughter and my career is pointless."
"Do you remember one of the first things that I asked you when you first started meeting with me?" asks Hutchison. Francisco shakes his head, "I asked if you were going sober for yourself or others. The way that you're talking right now, sounds like you're doing it for someone else. You want to get better for your daughter, her mother and your mother as well, but you aren't going to heal if you place more emphasis on them than yourself. What do you think you need to do?"
Francisco shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know. What's your advice? Your professional advice."
"I don't give advice, my job is to offer observation and help you draw conclusions.
He sighs, "I should probably leave Caroline alone, shouldn't I?" he looks over to the doctor, hoping for a subtle hint that what he said was right.
Hutchison shrugs his shoulders, "Do you think that that's best?"
Francisco nods his head, "I guess…"
Fun Fact: Anticonvulsants or anti-seizure medicine can be prescribed to treat chronic back pain
To answer the guest, I have thought about getting a beta reader, especially to help me since I'm prone to jumping around as I'm writing, even between sentences, as well as other issues. Yet, I haven't, I wish I had a better reason other than being busy and forgetting (especially if I don't write it down), but I would like a good way to end the story, so I will consider it, especially with about seventeen more chapters to go
Thank you for reading, hope you guys enjoy the new year
