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Three days.
One day was unusual. Two days was strange. Three days was when Penelope started to agree with her children and mother and got concerned that none of them had seen or heard from Schneider. Not appearing at mealtimes, not stopping by to help Lydia with laundry and gossip – they’d not even bumped into him in the hallway.
At first, Penelope had brushed off her family's concerns.
“He’s a grown ass man,” she’d told them at dinner on the second night, “And as much as he doesn’t act like it, he does have a building to run. He’s probably just busy. Or on a business trip, or visiting family.”
“He always tells us when he’s going away,” Alex had retorted.
“And he would’ve put me in charge of building repairs while he was gone!” added Elena.
“Then he’s just busy. Eat your dinner,” Penelope had replied firmly, and carefully tried not to think about the way Schneider never seemed to be busy, and she usually couldn’t go an hour without some inane text or stupid snapchat from him.
But it had still played on her mind enough that when he didn’t appear for breakfast the next morning, she let herself send him a quick, casual text, asking how he was, and letting him know that Lydia was cooking ropa vieja that night and she wouldn’t want him to miss it. Just in case.
Okay, so the lack of response was worrying. As was Schneider’s failure to appear for the meal. And as if that hadn’t been enough, it was followed by the appearance of a very apologetic Mrs. Turner from apartment 73 at her door, not meaning to intrude but wondering if they’d seen Schneider, as he didn’t seem to be in at his apartment and she had a leak in her sink, and everyone she’d asked had directed her here.
After sending Mrs. Turner away with Elena to fix the leak, and a promise to let her know if they heard anything, Penelope turned away from the door to come face to face with her mother and her son, arms folded, eerily similar expressions of expectation on their faces. The two of them united were not a force to be argued with.
Which is how she’d found herself here, now, outside Schneider’s door, hesitating. She’d called Schneider a couple of times in her apartment and it had gone straight to voicemail. In the elevator ride up she’d gone from mild concern, to worry, to outright fear, suddenly furious with herself for not coming up here the first night he wasn’t at dinner. And now she was hesitating because she had no idea what she would find – what if something had happened? What if he’d fallen off his stupid spin bike thing again and hurt himself, and no one had come to find him for three days? What if he wasn’t even there and he’d just disappeared? What if there was nothing wrong at all and she looked like an idiot for storming in all worried? What if, what if, what if...
Penelope sighed and shook herself. “Just knock on the damn door, Alvarez,” she muttered to herself.
She knocked firmly. Nothing. She knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.
“Schneider?” she tried yelling, “Are you in there?”
Silence.
“Come on, Schneider, if you’re in there, we just wanna know you’re okay. Everyone’s worried.” She only hesitated for a moment before adding, “I’m worried.”
The silence stretched on, somehow making her heart pound even harder. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t.
Penelope let her hand slide off the door, trying to regroup. She went into her pocket, gently touching the spare key for Schneider’s apartment that Lydia had produced out of nowhere, that apparently he had given her years ago “in case of emergencies”, and Penelope had rolled her eyes and taken it, never imagining –
She froze. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but she could’ve sworn she’d heard movement from inside the apartment.
“Schneider?” she called in a low voice, and then, hopefully, “I can hear you in there, Schneider, come on. Open the door. Please?”
There was a long enough pause than Penelope began to think she had imagined the noise, and dios, what the hell was she supposed to do now – then the door eased open a crack.
“Schneider!” Penelope cried happily, “Gracias a dios, you had me worried for a second there. What’s going o - ”
She stopped short. The door chain was on and Schneider was just visible in the gap it left, avoiding her eyes, a small smile that honestly looked more like a pained grimace on his face.
“Hey, Penelope,” he said, clearly aiming for casual, but it sounded so forced Penelope almost winced to hear it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Just been busy.”
“Schneider, what’s wrong? Where’ve you been?”
He sighed, the attempt at a smile fading away. “Pen, I – I’m not really in the mood, I’m sorry, okay? Please, just. Leave me alone.”
Hell no. Penelope lifted her chin, letting herself go into full nurse mode. “Schneider, open the door and let me in. Now.”
Schneider didn’t move for a second. Then he nodded, seeming to deflate a little. The door shut and Penelope relaxed as she heard the chain slide off, and then the door drifted open again, Schneider already shuffling back to the couch on the other side of it. Penelope slipped in behind him and softly shut the door behind her, taking in the scene with a sense of growing dread.
The apartment was in virtual darkness, heavy blackout curtains blocking out the streetlights and only a small table lamp lighting the room. But even in the low light she could see how terrible her best friend looked. He was curled into the corner of the couch now, dressed in sweatpants and a ratty t shirt. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or slept for days, pale faced with dark shadows under his eyes, but the worst part was how still and quiet he was. Schneider was a force of nature. That was what she liked about him – she had never known a grown man that still ran from room to room, constantly filled with energy and life, constantly looking for the next thing to do. The man she saw in front of her moved like he was fifty years older, staring at the floor, hands shaking. It felt unnatural.
She approached slowly, cautiously, trying not to spook him. “Okay, Schneider, you’re scaring me now. What’s going on?”
She crouched next to the couch, hating the way he still wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Are you sick? Have you -” she swallowed, not wanting to ask, but she had to - “Have you been drinking?”
There was a horrible, heart-stopping pause – then Schneider shook his head and sighed heavily.
“No, Pen. I haven’t.”
“Schneider…”
For the first time, Schneider looked her in the eyes. His gaze was heavy and sad, but clear. Sober. “I promise you, Penelope. I haven’t been drinking.”
Penelope nodded, trusting him.
“Besides, if I had, I probably wouldn’t still be here.” He snorted humourlessly. “My father would’ve already swept me up into rehab. His Schneidy-senses would be tingling.”
It was the first time he’d sounded like himself since she’d got there, and the wave of relief Penelope felt was so strong she could’ve cried.
She smiled instead, sitting next to him on the couch and turning him towards her, taking his hand and rubbing it comfortingly.
“Then what? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Schneider snorted again.
“That’s just proof of how short a time you’ve known me.”
Penelope waited, and he sighed, rubbing his face and looking her in the eye again.
“My sponsor relapsed.”
The statement hung in the air for a second. Whatever Penelope had been expecting, it wasn’t that.
“Schneider, I’m so sorry, that’s -”
“He’d been sober for twenty two years, Pen. Twenty two years.” Penelope held tight to his hand. There was clearly a lot going on in his head and she wanted him to get it.
“I heard the news, and I just – I shut down. The next thing I knew I was halfway to the liquor store downstairs. But I realised what I was doing, and I came back up here, and I locked the doors, but then I thought, now what? And I’ve just been lying here for – I don’t know how long, thinking that if he -”
Schneider stopped and swallowed hard before continuing.
“If he relapsed after twenty two years, what hope do I have?”
Oh.
Oh.
Penelope stared at him for a moment, at a loss for words. Then she pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as she could, and he clung to her like she was a life raft. They stayed like that for a long moment, Penelope rubbing his back gently and keeping up a murmured litany of reassurances in Spanish.
Finally he drew back, but kept leaning against her, and she kept her hand on his shoulder, hoping that would anchor him to her.
“Why didn’t you come to us? We could’ve helped you.”
“I didn’t want to bring that to your door. I know – I know what you went through with Victor. You’re not running a halfway house for lost addicts.”
Penelope frowned, leaning down so she could be sure he was looking at her. “Hey. That’s completely different. If Victor fought his addictions even a fraction as hard as you fight yours, we would probably still be married.”
Schneider’s mouth turned up in an almost smile, and Penelope smiled back, hoping that she was getting through to him.
“Still. I didn’t want to risk it. I could’ve gone down there with the intention of asking for help, but as soon as you opened the door I might’ve lied to your face about why I was there and got you out of the room to get at Lydia’s rum. I’ve done similar things before,” he added quietly, and Penelope’s heart ached for him.
There was a pause, both of them lost in thought.
“How long have I been…off-grid?”
Penelope frowned, concerned. “You don’t know?”
He shrugged. “Had my phone off, curtains shut… I kind of lost track of time.”
“It’s been three days since any of us have seen you.”
Schneider winced. “That’s…that’s not good.”
“No,” agreed Penelope, “That’s why we worried.”
Schneider groaned softly, hiding his face in her shoulder. “God, I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean to just disappear. The kids must be freaked out. Are they okay? Your mom?”
Penelope shushed him softly. “They’re fine. Worried, yeah, but they’re good, I promise.”
“I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been hiding from everyone. Tenants have been knocking but I was afraid if I tried to go and do repairs I would end up just stealing alcohol from people’s kitchens. I wouldn’t even let myself order takeout because I know exactly the places that’ll bring you a bottle of whiskey or – or other stuff - if you tip well enough.”
“Dios mio, Schneider…” Penelope whispered, stroking his hair gently. She hated to think what he’d been putting himself through for the past few days.
“I’ve had bad days before, like, a lot, but this… I just kept thinking, what’s the point? The chances are I’ll relapse again. What am I trying to do here except delay the inevitable?”
Penelope turned so she was facing him and gently lifted his chin, making sure he was looking at her before she continued.
“You’re trying to live, Schneider. That’s what you’re trying to do. This, what you’ve been doing here for the past three days? That’s not living. Neither was what you were doing before you were sober. The life you’ve built for yourself here is what makes it worth it. Even if you’re right, and you do relapse in five or ten or twenty years – you’re here now. You’re living a life you enjoy now. You’re here for family celebrations and all of Alex’s baseball games, and teaching Elena how to be a super, and keeping my mom company when I’m at work. That’s what’s worth holding on for. None of that can be taken away no matter how many times you relapse.”
Schneider blinked, swallowing thickly. “That was…that was quite the speech, Pen.”
She smiled fiercely, ignoring the tears welling in her eyes. “Yeah, well, I meant it. I’ve had a three day sample of not having you around, and you know what? I didn’t like it.”
She lowered her hands and Schneider stared at her silently for a few moments, reaching out to brush a couple of wayward tears off her cheeks. She held the eye contact, trying to convey how much she had meant every word she said.
He was the first to break it, leaning back a little and staring at his hands again.
“And what if… what if I do slip?” he asked quietly, carefully not looking at her, as if his next breath didn’t depend on her answer.
“Then you slip,” Penelope replied simply, and Schneider looked at her in surprise. “If it happens, it happens. It’s not a reflection of your strength. If you slip, me and Mami and the kids will be there to make sure you don’t go too far, and to make sure you come back to us. That’s a promise.”
Schneider stared again, like she’d suckerpunched him. Then he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he looked at Penelope again, his eyes were damp, but he was smiling. A real smile.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys,” he admitted.
Penelope stared back steadily, defiant. “I don’t know what you think you’ve done to not deserve us.”
There was a pause. Then Schneider huffed a laugh. “You are impossible to argue with, you know that?”
Penelope smiled broadly. “If that means you’re gonna stop trying to argue with me I’ll take it.”
He reached out and hugged her tight to him. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair, and she squeezed him back in response.
“Okay,” she said, getting to her feet, “Practicalities. When did you last eat?”
Schneider’s smile faded a little and he looked away guiltily. “I don't even know what day it is, Pen. I don’t know.”
Penelope took a breath and nodded, trying not to start crying all over again. That explained how lifeless and pale he seemed. She refused to torture herself by wondering what would’ve happened to him if she and her family weren’t living in the building.
“Okay. That’s okay. I’m gonna make you some food, then you’re gonna get some actual sleep in an actual bed, okay? And then you’re gonna come down for breakfast tomorrow and see the kids before they go to school so they know you’re alright, because they are not going to want to just take my word for it.”
Schneider winced, looking even more guilty. “You don’t have to do that, Penelope. It’s – it’s probably late, and you’ll have work tomorrow, and I -”
“I want to,” Penelope said firmly. “Hey, you just said I’m impossible to argue with. So quit arguing.”
Schneider rolled his eyes but nodded, curling up into the couch again, and Penelope decided she’d take that as a victory.
She was headed in the direction of Schneider’s kitchen when his voice, hesitant and quiet, stopped her in her tracks.
“Pen?”
“Yeah?”
“You won’t…you won’t tell them, will you? Lydia and the kids. Please don’t tell them about this. Where I was.”
Penelope sighed and opened her mouth to assure him he had nothing to be ashamed of, that her family wouldn’t think any less of him - but he wasn’t done.
“I don’t want them to be worried. They would be upset, I don’t – I don’t want that.” Penelope closed her mouth again. Of course that was his concern. That was who Schneider was. Then he spoke again, so quietly for a moment she thought she’d imagined it:
“Sometimes the thought of hurting you guys was all that stopped me from giving in.” Penelope drew in a shaky breath and walked quickly back to Schneider’s side, crouching down next to him. He gazed up at her, open and trusting, and she wanted to bottle this moment and show it to everyone who tried to say Schneider was self-centred.
“You know they would support you and love you no matter what. But this is your business, and if that’s what you want, you have my word, I won’t tell a soul. I’ll tell them you’ve had the flu or something, and then you can come see us tomorrow no matter how crappy you feel. Okay?”
She leant forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, just because she’d seen her Mami do it once and he’d positively glowed with happiness, and she wanted more than anything to see him like that again.
“We got you,” she whispered, and for a second Schneider smiled as if he believed it.