Lynn sets down a plate of pancakes and takes a seat. Normally on Saturdays, Lynn skips breakfast with Francisco and Elena to see her sisters at the restaurant, but for the last couple of weeks, she has stayed put. It isn't new, but it typically doesn't go on for such a long period of time.

"Can one of you guys pass the butter and the maple syrup?"

Both of them are surprised by the stack of pancakes in front of her. They both know that Lynn possesses a voracious appetite, but they can't imagine that she's going to actually eat a stack of twelve pancakes by herself.

Elena passes her plate, "Can I have one?"

As if by instinct, Lynn grabs the plate away from the teen, "But these are mine."

"Lynn, it's twelve pancakes, I think you can spare three."

"She only wants one."

"I want two," Francisco says, as he slides his plate towards her.

She mumbles under breath, and hands over the three pancakes. It's an unfortunate habit from her childhood that she can't seem to shake, but when you are fighting with ten other siblings for a few extra bites of food, you aren't going to let go of what's on your plate so easily.

He looks over at her, "Is it really that bad that we asked for three lousy pancakes?"

"No," she mutters, without looking over at him.

Elena turns towards her dad and silently mouths, "What's wrong?"

Francisco shrugs his shoulders. Breakfast is usually livelier than today, but he figures that Elena's concerns lie in Lynn stuffing her face with pancakes instead of bacon and eggs.

"She's fine," he quietly answers.

To break the silence, Lynn starts, "I had this weird dream where I was hanging out with aliens in an underwater house." Francisco and Elena don't know what to say as Lynn continues, "We played dodgeball, hide and seek, I even fished out a giant squid like in a fishing shack," she chuckles, "Man, I haven't had a dream like that since I watched all those episodes of Starship Groupers with Stinkoln and Lucy…" she stops as though pondering about what she said.

Francisco and Elena can see that saying Lucy's name seems to have stopped her in her tracks. She is silently staring at the napkin holder in the middle of the table, as if ignoring everything around her. This isn't new for Lynn, it happened every once in a while, all Francisco has to do is get her back on track.

He decides to ask, "Lynn, are you okay?"

She shakes her head and looks up at him, "Yeah, why?"

"Well, you're staring at the napkin holder as if you're waiting for some sort of revelation."

Lynn takes a bite out of the pancake, "I'm fine," she says with a mouth full of food. "Don't worry about me."

"Okay…" he says.

She can feel him glancing at her, as if he wants to say something. All she wants is a normal breakfast, but she can't have that if he keeps staring at her.

"What?"

Francisco is confused, "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

Lynn sighs. She has been tense for a while, but it isn't Francisco or Elena's fault and she reasons it to still being hungry, so to remedy the situation, Lynn goes back to eating her breakfast.

In an effort to get a conversation started again, Elena asks, "Lynn, have you thought about the party that you're going to throw?"

Lynn doesn't know what she's talking about, "The party?"

Francisco reminds, "Remember, the party that you have to throw for us after finding the baby in the cake."

"Wait, you guys were serious?! I thought that it was a joke. You guys actually do that?"

He nods his head. His family typically didn't go to the second party, but they did know that it occurred. Usually amongst his mom, Chuy, and Elena it was just a chance at a get-together after things begin to settle in the new year, but before Lynn and her sisters learned about the family tradition, they planned on doing it right. Unfortunately for Lynn, she was the winner and they do want their prize.

Lynn scratches the back of her head; she hadn't thought much of it, "Does it have to be big?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, it's your first one, I think that Chuy will be okay with it, though I don't know how accommodating Kiké, Lisa, or Lily will be."

Lynn groans; he had to bring up her sisters. For months, she has been avoiding the subject of Thanksgiving and her sisters whenever possible. It's silly, but she figures if they really are sorry they'll say something to her, however it's almost February and nothing has come of it.

"What's wrong?" asks Elena.

Lynn shakes her head, "Nothing. I'm just trying to think of what I'm going to do. I mean, it's only seven of us, but knowing your uncle, he won't show, so six, and my sisters might not want to come, so let's just chock it down to you two and Chuy, so four of us."

Elena is curious as to why Lynn quickly dismissed her sisters coming over and asks, "Why do you think your sisters won't come?"

Francisco knows the answer, but it isn't his place to say anything to his daughter.

"They get busy with their own things," Lynn answers.

Francisco tries to change the subject to keep Elena from asking anymore questions about Lynn's sisters, "Do you two want to go see that new mob movie that came out yesterday? Snacks are on me."

"The sequel to White Wolf 2? Heck yeah!"

"Isn't that rated R?"

"We'll sneak you in."

"She only needs an adult," he looks over at Elena, "besides, I think you can handle it."

Elena isn't sure, and instead suggests, "I don't know, maybe I'll go hang out with my friends instead."

"Oh…okay, that's fine."

"More popcorn for us!" Lynn excitedly exclaims.

After finishing breakfast, Francisco and Lynn clear the dishes, Francisco quietly tells her, "You know, at some point you may want to talk to your sisters about what's bothering you."

She scowls and clearly lets him know, "I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about, now hurry up, unless you want me to drive us to the movies."


Francisco sets down his phone. For days, he has spent his time in one bed or another and he is itching to get moving. While he is happy to finally be out of the hospital, being at home is no better. The house has been quiet since he's come home, and he feels helpless asking his mom and brother to help him get around.

He tries to get up so that he can get some water, but his body isn't responding. He tries again, but he can't move anything below his neck. Panic begins to set in as he thinks that the doctors missed something and the accident left him completely paralyzed. His breathing grows rapid, but soon he has an idea.

The seventeen-year-old moves his body in an effort to roll off the bed and he is successful. Francisco sighs in relief. It's silly to think that he would become paralyzed after coming home from the hospital, but he doesn't like the idea of taking chances.

The thudding sound alarms Alicia, who runs into the room to check on her son. She seems him on the floor, and sighs in relief when she sees him attempt to get himself seated on the floor.

"¿Qué haces en el suelo?"

"Tengo sed," he says. Francisco makes another attempt at getting to his feet, but once again, he fails. His back is radiating in pain, and he hasn't grown accustomed to maneuvering himself with casts. He can't believe that this is going to be his life for the next couple of weeks.

Alicia calls out her other son, "¡Chuy! ¡Ven aquí!"

"Estoy bien," Francisco tells her, but she doesn't listen. Ever since the accident, she has been worried about him. He can't blame her, he was in an accident, two of his limbs are in casts, and he can barely move without being in pain, but he wants to be able to get around his own room without his family being called.

Chuy walks in and helps Francisco to his bed, "Did you fall off?"

"No, I'm thirsty. I was going to get water."

The older brother sighs. With everything that has gone on, he is not in the mood to deal with his brother's stubbornness. Ever since their dad died, he and their mom have been receiving phone calls about their dad's after-life care, dealing with doctor's bills, and taking care of the house which their dad seemed to have been shirking since Chuy left home. At the moment, he thinks that until everything calms down at home, he might have to move back, at least for a few months.

Before Alicia goes to get Francisco a glass of water she asks, "¿Cuánto tiempo ha pasado desde tu última dosis?"

Francisco hasn't been keeping track of the time, but if his back is any indicator, more than enough time has passed since his last dose, "Unas cuantas horas."

Alicia goes to retrieve the items. The doctor made it clear to her and Chuy that they need to keep a watchful eye over the medicine due to risk of addiction. She doesn't think that it'll happen, since she, Chuy, and the school nurse are in charge of giving him the medicine, but the doctor stressed it to them multiple times before they left the hospital.

Chuy looks over at his younger brother, "You've got to take it easy. You know that we're here to help, but if you keep falling off the bed then you're going to be in those casts longer than you want."

Francisco sighs. He already told his brother that he didn't fall off the bed, although admitting that he purposely rolled off the bed isn't going to sound any better. He knows that pushing himself isn't going to help heal his body, but he doesn't want to lie around as if he is a helpless little boy.

In a flat tone, Francisco tells his brother, "I know…"

Chuy ruffles the boy's hair, "It's only a few weeks, then you'll be good again."

'Except to play hockey…and possibly baseball…'

Francisco looks over at his Red Wings posters and then angrily looks away from them. He turns his body towards the blank wall against his bed and thinks about how he may not be able to play sports again. He knows that he wasn't good enough to actually be a professional, but after so many years as an athlete, he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself. His grades aren't terrible, but he's sure that he's not going to get an academic scholarship without something else to help.

Chuy notices his brother's mood and he reassuringly pats his younger brother's shoulders to remind him that he's going to be okay.


"Am I really the bad guy for telling Lynn that she should settle things with her sisters?" Francisco asks Dr. Hutchison. "She's clearly annoyed because they blew her off on Thanksgiving, now she's avoiding them, and I know that she misses being around them. She hasn't hung out with them by choice in a long time, but she's too stubborn to admit it."

Dr. Hutchison takes notes. He's told Francisco before that he can't help Lynn since she isn't his patient, but he is insistent in meddling in her affairs. The doctor has an idea about the woman, but he knows his patient better, and after months of talking, he has idea of what could be forcing Francisco to constantly bring up Lynn not talking to her sisters.

"You know, Francisco, for nearly a year, we've talked about what goes on in your life at the moment, we've even talked about some the relationships that you maintain at the moment."

He doesn't know where Hutchison is going with this, "Is this your way of saying that I don't need therapy anymore?"

The doctor chuckles, "You decide that, but I mean, you've talked about Elena, Lynn, Caroline, your mom, brothers, but one person seems to constantly be ignored."

Francisco can feel his heart begin to race, and he tries his best to not make it obvious to the doctor in front of him, "There can't be much to say, he's been dead for nearly twenty years."

"You don't think about him at all?"

He shakes his head, "No."

"Do you think that that might be a problem?"

"How would it be a problem? If I don't think about it, then how does it have power over me?"

"So you choose to ignore it?"

"Yes, wait…" says Francisco. He's sure that Hutchison is leading him to a realization, and he slowly spells out his realization, "Ignoring it…isn't…a good thing either, is it?"

The doctor shakes his head, "No. You told me that your back problems and thus your addiction to pain medication started after the accident. Would you like to share something about him?"

Francisco goes quiet. Despite seeing Hutchison for nearly a year, he still hasn't opened up about his dad, and he doesn't want to talk about it either, it's easier for him to ignore it.

"Have you talked about him at all, to anyone?"

Francisco shakes his head.

Hutchison can see an ironic parallel in Francisco and Lynn. He wants her to talk to her family about what is bothering her, but he doesn't seem to want to do the same. The doctor knows that he can't force him to talk about what he is not comfortable with, but until his patient decides to speak up, there isn't much that he can do.

Francisco looks at his watch, it's time to go. He slowly gets up, and Hutchison notices that he is struggling a bit, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, my back is…has, been acting up since winter started," Francisco claims as he almost falls back into his seat.

Hutchison is concerned. Francisco has been making strides since his surgery, and he would hate to see him go back to his usual habits because of the weather. He gets up and helps his patient to his feet, "Before you go," he starts, "think about confronting him."

Francisco looks over at him, "How am I supposed to that? Hire a psychic to get a hold of him on the other side," as he said that Francisco realizes that it may not be impossible assuming that Lucy isn't lying about her psychic powers.

"No, I've had patients who write letters to air out their feelings, or you could even go to your father's gravesite."

"Why don't I just talk to you?"

"I think you've made it clear that you won't talk to me about him. Face a piece of paper or tombstone, it might be easier."

Francisco sighs. The doctor has made it clear that he's wanted him to talk about his dad, as if it'll get him to move on from his addiction issues, but Francisco has made it clear that he hasn't been tempted by pills, despite his back aches slowly coming back.

"Sure, I guess…"


Francisco tries to open his locker. With his dominant arm broken, it feels awkward to put in his combination without accidentally going a few numbers over. He groans in frustration. The teachers are granting him a few extra minutes to get to his next classes, but he's wasting it away on the lock that won't cooperate with him.

The bell rings and students begin to flood the hallways, "There goes my five minutes…" he mutters to himself.

Lynn passes by him in the hallway. She is happy to see him back at school after he was admitted to the hospital. She can tell that he hasn't noticed her yet, and to have a little fun with him, decides to take him by surprise by jumping on him, "Dog pile!"

Francisco is shocked and immediately loses his balance; causing the two to fall to the ground. His body is in pain, but he holds back his screams to keep attention off of him. When he opens his eyes, he notices Lynn on top of him with a smile on her face.

"Hey," she says.

He groans, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She laughs, "Relax, it's not like I haven't done that before," she says as she gets off of him and helps him to his feet.

"Other times I didn't have casts on."

"I've done it with Paula."

"And how'd that work out?"

Lynn tries to remember. The last time that she piled on Paula, she took it like a champ, and didn't complain at all, of course, she only had a broken leg, but she always does.

"It was fine, and I got to rest my legs."

Francisco turns towards his locker, to make another attempt at opening it and to not be forced to look at her. Ever since he came back to school, everyone has had the same sympathetic look in their eyes and he can't stand it. He wants to be alone, but can't shake anyone off when he can barely function on his own.

Lynn notices that he can't open the locker and offers to open it for him.

"I'm fine, I can do it myself," he says through his teeth.

"If that's true then why haven't you opened it yet?"

He sighs, "Fine, can you please help me open my locker?"

She walks over, takes a deep breath, and punches the locker, surprising Francisco. It opens and with a cheeky smile, she says, "I knew it, they're all the same."

The rest of the lockers around Francisco's begin to open, "Have you done this before?" he asks.

"A couple of times. Sometimes it's because my teachers want to 'talk with me' after class, other times it's because I'm running late for practice, or one time when I was mad and it just happened."

"Who pissed you off?" he asks, as he places his books away.

"Don't worry about it. Besides it was a long time ago," she assures him.

He smiles before jokingly asking, "Last week?"

She doesn't take too kindly to the accusation and immediately punches him in the arm. Francisco loses his balance, but before he is able to fall to the ground, Lynn grabs his arm. He looks over at her, as she gives him a reassuring smile to let him know that she isn't going to let him fall to the ground again.

The bell rings. Lynn begins to run for it, but as she is about to turn the corner, she notices that Francisco is limping around in an effort to move. The light bulb goes off in her head and she runs back to help him get to their class.

She grabs his free arm, and drags him down the hall, "Let's go!"

As he bounces down the hall in an effort to keep up with her, he asks, "Wh-Wh-What are you doing?"

"Getting us to class. C'mon! If we hurry we won't be too late!"


Francisco taps the pen against the counter. For the last couple of hours, he has tried to make attempts at what he could say to his dad, but nothing felt right. It's been nineteen years since his dad died, and that has been plenty of time to process everything.

"That's why I can't…" Francisco assures himself, but doesn't finish his thought.

Lynn, who is peeking over his shoulder, asks, "That's why you can't what?"

For hours, she has watched him work on that letter, but all he has to show for it are a small pile of crumpled papers on the dining room table and on the floor. His therapist told him to write the letter for his dad, but she doesn't see the point if it's never going to be sent.

"You know, you're probably better off asking Lucy to call him, assuming that he hasn't already been reincarnated."

Francisco looks up at her, "That's what happens to us after we die?"

Lynn shrugs her shoulders, "From what Lucy said. I wasn't paying too much attention, but that's a story for another time." She takes a seat in front of him, "I can't believe that you have to write a letter. Have you thought of anything to say?"

"Clearly not, that's why there's a pile of papers all around me," he groans, "What am I supposed to say? I wish that you weren't craving cookies on the night you died. I wish that you were smart enough to not drive drunk in the snow–"

"Hey!"

He's surprised by her revelation, "You really did that?"

"That's not the point. C'mon! Is it really that hard to think of what you want to tell your dad?"

"Yeah," he says, "that's sort of why I've been struggling all this time." He moves the papers away from him and leans back in his chair. "Lynn, I didn't have the same relationship with my dad, like you do. We rarely hung out, he would work, sleep, or be running errands nearly all the time. I barely say him, let alone talked to him."

Those aren't new complaints. From the small amount of times that Francisco did mention his dad growing up, it was rarely anything heartwarming. Lynn never thought much of it, and assumed that was being his usual private self.

"Okay, well, there's gotta be something you both did…did he ever go to your hockey games?"

Francisco shakes his head, "He was usually busy."

She tries to think of something else, "What about baseball or rowing?"

"Maybe try something that isn't sports related," he says despite knowing that that's where her mind always goes to first.

"Exercising?"

"Nope."

"Cooking?"

Francisco raises an eyebrow, "Have you tasted my food?"

"Yeah, you're right," she agrees, "What about building stuff? Or working on cars?"

He shrugs his shoulders. His dad did teach him and his brothers when they were young, but Francisco never got much of a chance to do anything when his dad was around. A lot of times, his dad would tell him that he could get hurt and forced the boy to stand to the side to watch, but by the time Francisco was old enough to do anything, his dad didn't participate as much anymore; leaving him to learn from his older brothers.

Lynn tries to think of something else, but without knowing much about the man, she's at a loss. She never visited the family much, between the language barrier, Francisco's insistence at never inviting anyone over, and being busy herself, there isn't much that she could know.

"Sometimes, when I came home from practice, he would be in the driveway, drinking with his cousins. All we would say is 'Hey' and then I would walk inside," he shared.

She silently looks over at him. She can't believe that that is the first memory that would pop into his head.

"I even remember when I was thirteen, he sent me on an errand to go get him beer. I think I made it to the corner before I remembered that I couldn't buy it for him. Luckily, my mom pulled up, probably because my dad realized that sending a minor to buy beer wasn't smart."

"…Did you want to write that to him, or the driveway thing?"

He shakes his head, "There's no point, he knows that we both did that. The whole point of this letter is to process my feelings, but I hardly thought of him." Francisco groans, "What would you write? If you were writing to your grandfather, or Bud, or your dad."

Lynn thinks about it, but now she can see why he's struggling. She's had a few years to make peace with her Pop-Pop and Bud dying, especially after she stopped drinking, so there isn't anything that she would say that she hasn't already thought of.

'One day, I promise that we'll have our own hunting trip, just the two of us. Deal?'

Her eyes tear up a bit, and she says, "I…wish that we could have gone on that hunting trip you promised me."

Francisco stays quiet. He didn't know that he was going to strike a nerve in her, but what she said was helpful. As a kid, he and his brothers were promised so many things by their dad. He understood that sometimes things get in the way, but after all the unkept promises; it was hard to trust anything that he said to them.

Lynn notices that he's beginning to write again, but once again Francisco scratches it out, "Seriously? What was wrong with that one?"

He sighs, "I don't know. Every time I think about what I want to write, I change my mind."

"Then write a buncha drafts and then settle on your final one," she suggests.

He slowly gets up from his chair, "Maybe a little fresh air will do me some good."

Lynn watches him go. When he is outside, she grabs a few crumpled papers and looks at what he wrote. She can make out a few words, but everything is heavily scratched out, as if angry.

Francisco takes a seat on the lawn chair and stares up into the sky. When he was tasked with writing this letter, he didn't imagine how difficult it was going to be. Every time he thinks of something to write, he remembers the thoughts that he had about his dad at seventeen, even the one that he wants to forget the most.

Jackson notices his neighbor sitting outside, "Good afternoon, neighbor."

"Hey, Jackson," Francisco says without any enthusiasm.

The older man looks over the fence, "Is something troubling you?"

Francisco sighs, "Yeah. My therapist wants me to write a letter to my dad, but I'm struggling to come up with anything." He slowly gets up from his seat and walks over to the fence, where he spots Jackson tinkering with a locked box. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to unlock my puppet, but keep going."

"Okay, like I said. I'm struggling to write anything. Every time I think of something, I feel like a teenager again."

Jackson looks over at Francisco, "I take it your relationship with your father wasn't the best?"

Francisco nods his head. It was never terrible, but he knows where his dad was lacking, "It could have been better."

"I could help you, if you don't mind," he says, as he unlocks the box containing the puppet. "I doubt you'll open up to my wooden friend."

Francisco lets out a polite chuckle, "No, I think I prefer the human touch."

"Somethin' tells me ya don't!" says the puppet from inside the box.

Jackson pulls out another lock from his pocket and puts it on the box, "Apologies, he tends to say what's on his mind."

Francisco doesn't question that his neighbor is the one controlling the dummy or the new lock, "Anyway, like I said writing is tricky."

"Would you mind if I ask you some questions? It might help with your letter," offers Jackson.

"Be my guest."

"Have you ever talked with Elena about her aspirations in life?"

Francisco is confused. He didn't think that Jackson was going to ask about his daughter, "I'm sorry, what does that have to do with the letter to my dad?"

"I'm getting there."

"I wish I was," says the dummy, as he bangs on his box.

Francisco looks over at Jackson, "I've seen Lynn's sister with her puppet, I'm impressed that you can perform as well as you can."

"Thank you, but can you continue?"

"Right. Yeah, me and Elena walks about her aspirations from time to time. She mentions college, recitals, traveling the world – stuff like that."

"Did your dad ever you talk to about your aspirations?"

Francisco stops to think about it. Growing up, his family felt like five strangers living under one roof sometimes; they rarely talked about anything deep, there weren't many memories being made, and everyone was off doing their own thing. The rare times when they were together was during an occasional meal or cookout, but even then, it felt more forced than not.

"Not really. Our conversations were more like, 'How are you?', 'How was your day?', and 'Can you get me my sandals?' nothing deeper."

"Now how would you describe Elena's childhood?"

"A lot of museums, art projects, and we would spend our weekends doing the things that she would love," he sighs, "but there were a lot of things that I would miss that I wish I was there for."

"Do you think that Elena would have a different version of that same childhood with you? Would she have moments that stuck more to her than they did to you?"

"Yeah…? What's your point?"

"Francisco, we each have a different interpretation of the same events. While you may have felt that you missed out on a lot in Elena's childhood, she may not see it the same way. This works with anyone really – you and Lynn, you and your brothers, your mother, and even your father," he explains.

"So I could look at my childhood differently from my dad?"

Jackson nods, "Yes, and maybe writing or saying your interpretation is what your doctor wants you to do. Think about any memories you shared with your father and write them the way you remember. Don't worry about anything else."

Francisco sighs, "I'll try, but whenever I remember anything, I think back on the feelings I had when I was seventeen – all the stress and frustration that my dad caused."

"You know," Jackson starts, "moments like these don't need to be entirely positive. It's okay to be frustrated, even angry for everything that happened in your life. It doesn't make you a terrible person to feel the emotions that you are experiencing."

Hearing that helped Francisco a bit, it doesn't make the task much easier, but comforts him to know that it's okay to be frustrated.


Francisco opens the front door of his house and is met with silence. His mom and brother are out, probably running errands or still at work, so he should have some time to himself, with Lynn. He didn't want her to come over, but he needed to catch up on homework and class notes, and despite his better judgment, she was the only one available to help him out.

Lynn, who is carrying Francisco's bag, asks, "Where do you want me to set this down?"

"Here is fine," he says as he takes a seat at the dining room table. "Thanks for– what are you doing?" he asks, noticing her sniffing around the kitchen.

She drops his bag on the floor, "I smell food and I'm hungry," Lynn uncovers a pot and is met with the sight of floating corn cobs, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, cilantro, tomatoes, and chunks of meat, "What's this?" she asks.

Francisco looks over at her, "Caldo de res," Lynn looks over at him, expecting a translation, "beef soup."

"Looks good," she says as her mouth begins to water.

She brings the ladle towards her mouth, but Francisco calls out to her, "Don't do that!"

"Fine! I'll get a bowl," she complains. Lynn looks around for a bowl, leaving every single cabinet door open in her search. "Finally, I found one," she says, as she takes it over to the pot. After she serves herself, she looks over at Francisco, and asks, "Do you want some?"

He can't believe that she'd have to ask, but he still answers, "Yes, I would, but put the red rice in the bowl first," he says pointing over to the rice cooker.

Lynn turns around and notices the appliance, "Do I need it too?"

"You might like it better," he assures her.

"Alright, I trust you," she says as she serves herself some rice onto his and her bowls. She takes a seat across from him and happily begins to chow down on the meal. With a mouth full of food, she compliments, "Your mom's food is good."

He chuckles at her antics, "I thought that you knew that from the tamales."

She looks up at him, "Is she making some today?"

"I doubt it, we've been eating them since Christmas, so…"

Thinking about Christmas began to make his head hurt. It has been a month since the holiday passed, and in that short time, his life has changed dramatically. He can't play hockey anymore, he doesn't know if baseball is even an option, and his dad…he doesn't want to think about it.

"Do you think that your mom would want to work with my dad? I bet they could make a killing at the restaurant."

Francisco smiles. Never in all the years that he's known Lynn, has he ever been happy that she can be so oblivious to others' feelings. She isn't like everyone else who constantly looks at him like a helpless baby, but instead treats him as if nothing happened. In a way, it's terrible since she expects him to run down the hall as if he wasn't injured, but he prefers it this way.

"I doubt it. She doesn't like to cook."

"Really?! The way she cooks, I thought that she would love it."

He shakes his head, "She does it enough at work, although with how she complains, she might be better off."

Lynn slams her hand on the table, startling Francisco, "Let her know that there's an opening if she's interested!"

"Are you allowed to make those decisions?"

"My name's in the restaurant, I think that it counts."

He chuckles, "Sure, I'll let her know."

Seeing him smile, made Lynn smile too. Ever since he came back to school, he has been so serious and she can't stand to see her friend looking miserable, besides, he looks better with a smile on his face.

"You know what this soup could use?" she asks.

Francisco points to the fridge, "Hot sauce is in there," fully aware that Lynn isn't happy unless she sets her mouth and stomach on fire, like his dad.

While Lynn is away, Francisco stops and stares out into space. He doesn't want to think about his dad or all the changes that have been brought on after the accident. Francisco does his best to stop himself from thinking, unaware that Lynn is noticing him.

She waves her hand in front of his face, "Hello! What are you doing?" she asks, before looking over at where his eyes are staring. "Are you looking at the portrait? Where'd your parents get it?" she asks looking at a portrait of a woman sitting on a bench as she leans against a piano staring a little girl, who is looking down at her.

He shakes his head, "The portrait?" he looks up at it, "I don't know. My mom has always had those portraits around since I was a kid."

Lynn downs the rest of the caldo and gets up from her seat. It has been a long time since she has last been in Francisco's house and aside from the decorations moving around, everything seemed to be the same.

"How come there aren't any photos of you guys?"

"I don't know. We aren't the type to put photos out."

"Weird," she says. Lynn keeps looking around, but eventually she turns her head towards Francisco and notices that he is struggling to finish the food in front of him without making a mess. "Dang, you really do suck with your right arm."

"I know," he says before spilling some of the caldo onto his shirt.

"Do you want me to help you?"

He is surprised by the offer, but he immediately refuses, "No thank you, I can figure it out myself."

Lynn takes a seat in front of him. She looks over at him, "If you say so," she says with a smile.


Francisco and Lynn step out of the truck and look at sign in front of the Royal Woods cemetery. Neither one has been here in a long time, and from the look on the creaky gate that moves with the wind, others might not have visited in a long time either.

"Alright, let's do this," says Lynn as she walks through the gate.

Francisco pulls out two chairs from the back of the truck cab and he quickly follows after Lynn as she walks ahead of him.

Lynn looks through the names on the tombstones, but with each passing one, an unsettling feeling begins to come over her. After having Lucy as a roommate, she figures that she should be used to the idea of death and it's little wonders, but even as a kid, she preferred living life and not worrying about the great beyond.

"This place is creepy. I don't know how Lucy and her family can find enjoyment in all this," Lynn says with a shudder.

"I know, right?"

A bird caws from a branch above them, surprising the two. When they see the bird, they sigh in relief and begin to look through the tombstones again.

"Do you remember where your dad was buried?"

"No, it's been a while," he says, while looking around the cemetery.

Like Lynn, he isn't fond of the idea of death. Aside from Elena, there is a lot that he hasn't accomplished in his life – he hasn't had an opportunity to be financially set, he hasn't gone to the World Series, he wants to be able to go back school, and he would like to have his own cabin up north.

"Found it!" says Lynn, as she points out Juan's tombstone.

Francisco sets down the chairs in front of his dad's gravesite. He and Lynn take a seat and silently stare at Juan's name on the stone. He knew what he wanted to say, it was easy when everyone recommended coming in person, but now, as both of them look at the ground, Francisco is at a loss for words.

Lynn looks over at him, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I don't know what to say."

"You could catch him up on the last twenty or so years," she suggests.

It isn't a bad idea, though he's sure that his mom has probably already done so.

Francisco clears his throat, "Let's see, where do I start? Fui al universidad con una…" he tries to think of the word, "beca de béisbol en California. Tenía novia, teníamos una hija, va tener quince este año, ha…" he can't remember the word for dating, and opts to point at Lynn, "por un tiempo. Yeah, that's good…"

Lynn couldn't understand most of that, but she can't imagine that he would be done in a few short sentences, "That's it?"

He sighs, "Give me a minute. All I did was mention four tidbits about my life. I thought that it would help me open up."

She decides to help him out a bit, "Let's see…" she says to help him out, "He knows how to fix a car from the tire up."

"No, I don't."

"Well, you fix Dutch well enough you might as well claim it." Another thought pops into her head, "He still can't cook, but those tamales were just as good as I remembered them," she says fondly. "Umm…he is becoming a pretty good swimmer, he can almost beat me," she jokes, as she playfully elbows him in the ribs.

He smiles. They haven't gone swimming in a while, but she would mention beating him if the opportunity presented itself.

"He's a great dad to Elena," says Lynn. "You know, you must have been a pretty good example for him growing up."

Francisco is surprised to hear that. He never thought of himself as a great dad, maybe a decent one, but not great. However, to him, his dad was not exactly the example that Lynn is thinking about. It wasn't terrible, but his dad wasn't as involved with him and his brothers. More often than not, they were teaching themselves how to do things, because he was 'too busy'.

"Good example?" the two hear from nearby. Lynn and Francisco turn and see Kiké walking towards them. He scoffs, "I knew that you were thick-headed, but I didn't think you were that–"

Francisco interrupts his brother, "Don't do this today," he sighs. "When are you going to stop picking on Lynn and act like an adult?"

Kiké takes a seat on the ground, "When it stops messing with both of you," He looks past Francisco and over at Lynn, whose anger vein is throbbing, "and apparently it's not going to be any time soon." He looks up at his brother, "Anyway, what's with this crap about dad being a good guy? All he did was hang out with his friends, promise us the moon, and stress the crap out of mom – that's hardly the definition of a good guy."

Lynn scowls. Hearing Kiké's words can't be good for Francisco and she doubts that he wouldn't be lying in an effort to rile up the couple.

Kiké can see that she doesn't believe him, "I'm serious. Nearly every night, he'd be outside with his friends, then come inside promise us everything, and give mom another reason be annoyed at him. If you actually saw the two, the way they really are and not some fantasy that they put up for everyone else, you'd know that they were incompatible, right Pancho?"

Francisco doesn't say a thing, but Kiké is right – coming home from practice, he'd be met with the same sight of his dad outside with his cousins drinking by the garage, the same speech about how everything that was his was going to be theirs and making false promises to all of them. He knows that at some point their mom got sick of hearing it all, and as the years passed, the two felt more like strangers than a loving couple. He's sure that at some point they might have loved each other, but after a while, it felt as though they only stayed together because it was easier.

Lynn tries to keep Francisco from focusing his attention on his older brother. She remembers something she did with her dad, and Lynn asks, "Did you ever play catch with your dad?"

"Our grandpa did that," Kiké chimes. "And before you think of a bunch of other 'father-son bonding' moments, he didn't teach Pancho how to play baseball, didn't teach him how to drive, he always wanted to complain about buying us anything, and didn't teach him how to do anything, just 'stand there and watch' or 'you'll be fine on your own' crap."

Francisco sighs. It's nice to be able to get everything out, but this isn't how he envisioned it. However, he can't quite shake what Kiké is saying; he never thought about how small of a role his dad played in his childhood.

"Yeah, right," argues Lynn.

"I'm serious," says Kiké. "Chuy has a better reason to be pissed at him, but here you are acting as though he was a fucking saint. He wasn't! He shirked everything and acted as though he could get his own kid to do his work."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dad, he taught Chuy everything and then he had to teach us. I mean seriously, when was the last time you remember dad teaching you anything? It was always mom and Chuy."

Before Francisco is able to process what was just said, Lynn gets mad, "Quit exaggerating! If he was that bad then why would–"

Kiké interrupts, "Would we not talk about him? Because we were relieved."

As Francisco hears Lynn and Kiké go back and forth, he thinks about all the moments he's had with his dad, but also the moments where his dad wasn't around. With each passing memory, a hint of reality seeps in; a trip to the beach, includes his dad complaining about the crowds, a chance to decorate the house for an upcoming holiday has his mom muttering about how he sucks the fun out of everything, a trip to the hardware store includes his dad offering to buy his son a snack for being on his best behavior, and how a simple night of television changed his entire life's path.

His head hurts as he processes everything. He fights back tears, despite telling himself for years that he got over his dad's death and how it isn't affecting him, but he misses his dad and wishes that he didn't die nineteen years ago. He wishes that his dad could have been around to see him off to college, be there for Elena, be here now so that all this arguing didn't have to happen.

Rather than letting it go on anymore, "Enough!" yells Francisco. He looks over at Lynn, "Look, I get that you want me to look back fondly and appreciate the time I had with my Dad, but it isn't like your relationship with your dad. Kiké's right. He was an imperfect man who frustrated us more than not." He turns towards his brother, "And Dad was not some devil in disguise. He tried! Maybe he should have kept trying as we got older, but it's better than an actual deadbeat dad!"

Francisco gets up and despite the pain, he stomps back to the truck in frustration.


With an empty bowl in front of each of them, Lynn takes hers to the kitchen sink, but when she turns around, she notices that he isn't moving as quickly. He is still seated, but with each attempt to his feet, he falls back down to the chair in pain.

Lynn notices him hunched over the table and runs over to him, "What's wrong?"

"My back," he struggles to say through the pain. "It's been a couple of hours since I took my last dose of medicine."

She begins to crack her knuckles, "Who needs medicine? I can get you back in tip-top shape, just give me a few minutes."

He is afraid of what she could do. Francisco knows that she is used to healing minor muscle aches, but this is far more serious and he isn't going to risk paralysis because Lynn thinks she can fix him.

He shakes his head, "No, I just need my medicine." Francisco makes another attempt to get up from his seat, but the pain in his back is too much. He immediately sits back down and tightly clenches his fists. He points down the hall, "It's in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, can you get me a pill?"

"Yeah, I'll be right back," she says before heading down the hall.

Lynn opens the first door she sees. She is greeted with the sight of a disorganized room littered with snack wrappers and loose clothing; it sort of reminds Lynn of her own room, minus the lack of sports decorations and equipment.

She opens another door and is caught off-guard by how empty it is. The room only has a bed and a dresser, but it doesn't look as though anyone has been inside for a long time, "Probably that guy's room," she says in a somewhat bitter tone.

Francisco notices that she is taking a longer than anticipated, and he asks, "What's taking you so long?"

Lynn looks back towards the dining room, "Which one is your room?"

"Is that really important?" he asks her, "Can you just go look for the bathroom, already?"

She scoffs, "You're no fun. Besides, you've been in my room, it's only fair."

He sighs, "We were doing a project for Spanish class," he reminds her. "Today, you were just here to help me and apparently help yourself to my mom's caldo."

"Well it was a delicious payment," she answers, as she opens another door. "I found the bathroom!"

"Good..."

Lynn opens the medicine cabinet and finds an amber bottle with Francisco's name on it. She quickly glances at the instructions before opening it. "Well you're in a lot of pain and this little bottle says as needed for pain, so you'll probably need a few," she reasons as she pours out two pills into her hand.

She sets down the bottle by the sink before running back to the dining room. She hands Francisco the two pills and he looks up at her, "Why did you bring me two?"

"You're in a lot of pain, so I thought that you might need two."

He smiles, but explains, "I only need one. The doctor says that it's an easy medicine to get hooked on."

Lynn hands him a glass of water, "So now will you tell me which room is yours?" she asks with a cheeky smile.

Francisco takes his medicine, "Why do you want to see it so badly?"

"I'm curious, and I told you that it's fair since you saw my room."

He sighs. He knows that she isn't going to let up on the issue, so rather than fight it any longer, Francisco decides that he'll show her his room, as soon as his medicine kicks in.

He opens the door and Lynn looks around. It's much neater than the other rooms, there are baseball posters, a few bobbleheads, and his baseball gear neatly tucked away in the corner.

Francisco takes a seat on his bed as she looks around. He isn't sure if what she said about fairness being the reason she wanted to see his bedroom, but he lets her have her fun as she plays with the bobbleheads and rolls the baseball on his dresser.

"Talk about a lack of balls," she remarks.

He's confused, "What?"

"I expected some more baseballs, soccer balls, maybe even a basketball, but you only have a few pucks and a lot less baseballs than me," she says as she takes a seat next to him.

Francisco looks up at her, "My family thinks of sports as more than a hobby than anything else. I sorta wish I had your collection."

"I can let you borrow some stuff if you ever want."

"That'd be nice," he says.

While he is staring at the ceiling, Lynn looks over at the trash can. There are crumpled up posters tossed in, and she can see a familiar red from where she is sitting. She notices that despite the pucks, Francisco doesn't have much hockey memorabilia as she expected. All around them, there are baseball posters, she understands since it is the sport that he plays more seriously, but he has been playing hockey for years, and is surprised that his room wouldn't reflect that.

She spots a nearby puck; it's signed by every member of his hockey team, with a note telling him to 'Get Well Soon' and 'Thanks for all the games'. Lynn looks over at him. He's clearly not going to be able to finish playing this season, but it isn't as though he's not going to be able to get back on the ice.

Lynn tosses the puck in the air and catches it as if falls. Francisco is a little tense; the puck is a souvenir that his teammates gave him after he told them that he wouldn't be able to finish the season or be on the team anymore. He's going to miss playing, but doesn't want to dwell on what he is missing.

Out of nowhere, Lynn asks, "What got you into hockey?"

"What?"

"Hockey, why did you start playing it? You always said that you were the only one who liked hockey in your family, so how'd you get into it?"

Francisco doesn't feel like talking about hockey, so he tries to deflect the question, "Couldn't I ask you the same about you and any other sport?"

She rolls her eyes, "I get bored, so I look for something to do that isn't school or chores or anything else that's boring. That's why I have a sport for every season," she proudly declares. Lynn bumps her shoulder against his, "Now spill," she tells him, grabbing onto his arm to keep him from toppling over.

If he's being honest, it was to get away from his parents' fighting. During the winter, his mom hates leaving the house for anything that isn't important, this unfortunately means that she is cooped up for months, getting stressed and annoyed at everything he, his brothers, and dad do. Rather than stick around, Francisco found it easier to have an after school activity that he could take up during the winter months without interfering with baseball too much. Of course, he likes hockey itself, but it did play a big role in him taking up the sport.

Instead of telling Lynn that version, he decides to tell her the other reason he got into hockey, "It was in elementary school. Some of the boys in my class were talking about it and they made it seem interesting. They would constantly talk about the game and I would overhear them, so one day, out of curiosity, I checked all the channels every hour and finally found a game to watch. I sat there and took it all in. Do you remember that field trip we took to ice rink as kids? So we could learn how to ice skate."

"Yeah," she says.

"I took the chance to learn, and the rest is history."

While the two teens continue talking with one another, Alicia walks in and sees a dirty bowl on the table, and two backpacks tossed onto the ground. She lets out an exasperated sigh, and goes to look for her son, "¡Pancho! ¿Dónde estás?"

"¡En mi cuarto!" he answers.

Alicia is greeted with the sight of Lynn sitting on her son's bed. When she walked through the door, she didn't expect anyone to be home with her son, let alone him with a girl sitting on his bed.

"Hola," she tells her guest.

Lynn waves to her before getting she gets up. She turns to Francisco and lets him know, "I'll see you tomorrow," she turns to Alicia, but her Spanish begins to fail her. She tries to remember what she is going to say and finally remembers, "Bueno verde."

Francisco and Alicia are confused, but assume that she was trying to say 'nice to see you' instead of 'good green'.

As Lynn walks out of the room, she compliments Alicia with a thumbs up, "The food was good," she says as she points to the kitchen.

"Tank you," she responds with a heavy accent.

Alicia keeps her eyes and ears peeled as Lynn grabs her things and heads out the door. She's heard about the girl from her son, but she hasn't had many opportunities to meet with her, let alone know what kind of person she is.

"Sabes por qué vino a visitarte, ¿verdad?"

Francisco sighs. He knew that his mom was going to say something about Lynn visiting, and like every other unexpected guest; she assumes that it's to judge the family.

"Yo sé," he sighs.


At home, Francisco opens the fridge and pulls out Lynn's meatball sub. He takes a seat on the couch and turns on the tv. He feels emotionally drained and he isn't sure if going to see his dad's gravesite did him any good. To an extent, he felt as though Lynn was trying to help him, but Kiké, while annoying, reminded him too much of what he was trying to forget.

Lynn walks into the kitchen. She looks around for her meatball sub, but she can't find it anywhere. As she walks over to the living room to ask Francisco if he has seen it, she spots him eating the cold sandwich while staring blankly at the screen in front of him.

He sees that she is about to say something, probably about what happened at the cemetery or the sandwich, and he immediately stops her, "I'm not in the mood…"

She sighs and takes a seat next to him. She was hoping that going to the cemetery was going to help him, but instead, it seems to have taken him a few steps backwards. The whole ride home was silent, and Lynn is sure that they were making headway until Kiké showed up.

"That sure was…crazy, right?"

He doesn't say a thing. While he was frustrated with Lynn and Kiké's fighting, they both made their points; he just wishes that they could have left him to figure it out without their constant arguing.

"You know the downside of it all, Lynn? He wasn't even wrong. Dad did do those things." Francisco sighs, "So many times growing up, I wanted him to finally tell the truth or to stop and think about us the same way he thought about himself, but at some point I stopped caring anymore. At best, we would say a few words to each other and go our separate ways."

Lynn doesn't know what to say. She can tell that Francisco probably wanted more attention from his dad than he probably cared to admit at the time, but like her, it was hard to say. There were so many times that she wished that her parents could have given her a little more attention, but despite having to share her parents' attention with ten other siblings, she knew that they would be there, even when she was too bull-headed. However, Francisco's parents aren't her parents, and if what she heard earlier today was true, then growing up, it wasn't easy for him to ask his dad and get an honest response.

His throat begins to tighten up, "Do you know the last thing I thought before he died?" he asks, looking at her straight in the eye. "That I wish he would die."

Lynn is surprised to hear that. Never in her life has she ever wanted her parents dead, heck, she doesn't even like the idea of them dying at all, but hearing him say that shook her to her core. She can't imagine that someone she knew so well would say such things, but all she could say was, "Really?"

He nods his head, "It took me a while to remember, but I remember thinking that before we got hit," Francisco says as he scratches his eye. He takes a deep breath, as if a weight is being lifted off of his shoulders, "There are things that I regret thinking and there are things I regret not saying to the people around me." He looks over at Lynn, "Don't be like me, Lynn." He can see that she is about to interrupt him and claim that she is fine, but he stops her, "I know that you're still mad at your sisters for Thanksgiving, and we both know that holding this in isn't going to solve anything."

She doesn't want to admit that he's right, but he is. She's had nearly two months to get over what happened, but she can't let go of night. He is right, they both know that holding in these feelings isn't a good thing, especially when they're both addicts, but she has done this for so many other issues that is isn't easy to stop.

"Fine," she sighs, "I'll talk to them."

Francisco wraps his arm around her and he rests his head on her shoulder, "It's not a punishment, you know."

"I know, but I don't know how I'll say what I need to say."

"Well, it isn't like you have to do it tomorrow, just remember to tell them."

She laughs, "How many times do you have to tell me that?"

He laughs with her, "I just wanna make sure that you remember."


I am so sorry for keeping you guys waiting. This chapter was trickier to write than I anticipated no matter how much I planned it. Originally, it was supposed to be more angry, but I didn't want to toss Juan under the bus, because he isn't meant to be a terrible character, just a flawed one that struggled to connect with his sons as the years passed. Anyway, I don't want to get too deep, because leaving it the imagination is much better than setting things in stone

To answer Pedroxmv97's question, the jersey numbers are the last two numbers of each character's birthyear - (20)02, (20)03, (20)24. It was meant to be a silly way to let you guys know that little tidbit of information, though looking back, matching jerseys with the number 38 would have probably made more sense for a Christmas photo

As always, thank you for reading and see you next time