Chapter Text
"You know, you can learn Spanish. You can eat dinner with us. You can pretend you’re part of the family, but when it comes down to it you are still The Man, and we’re just your tenants!"
Schneider looked down at her and the pain in her expression hurt in ways he could never put into words. She couldn’t actually think that, could she? That he didn’t care about them? Didn’t she realize that after all these years he was never pretending to be part of the family. He wasn’t just killing some time because he was bored. He loved them, like blood.
Well, not like his blood, because his blood was awful. And she had just met Exhibit A.
How could she think that her family wasn’t important to him? "Come on, Penelope, that’s not at all-"
"You know what? Congratulations. You are your father's son. Get out." Penelope turned away from him, her hand covering her face as she struggled to keep it together. Schneider had seen her do that a lot, but never because of him. Usually, he was the one who would sit down beside her and help her work through whatever was causing her all this distress. But when he was the one causing that distress? He didn’t know what to do.
So he followed his instincts and did what he would normally do. He took a few steps toward her, trying to gather his thoughts into a complete sentence. "Penelope…" was all he was able to get out before she stopped him, again.
"No, I mean it, please. Get out." Penelope had yelled at him before. She had been bossy before. When she had gone off her meds she was downright mean to him. But none of those instances compared to this. Her voice was a mixture of anger and disappointment. As much as he wanted to stay and talk this out with her, he knew no good could come from it. She didn’t want him here. Not now… Maybe not at all.
Without another word, Schneider did as he was told. He took one last look at her before closing the door slowly behind him for what he feared deep down would be the last time.
The walk up to his apartment had never felt longer. It was a trip he made several times every day, and going up was always worse. But especially today. Especially right now.
He had really screwed it up this time. Penelope was more than just angry with him, she was hurt. He hurt her, and he felt terrible about it. He hadn’t realized how much this one decision would affect them. He didn't know what it was like to have to worry about money. In his entire adult life, he had never been in a position where one man could rip his life out from under him. He didn't have to worry about whether or not he would be able to afford rent next month. The only thing that had ever stood in the way of stability and happiness for him was himself.
After what seemed like an eternity, he made it to his door. He stared at it for a few minutes, contemplating what he was going to do next.
First things first, he needed to go into his apartment. He needed to get out of this stupid suit and take the gel out of his hair so that he felt a little bit like himself again. He needed to convince his dad to go to his hotel so that he could think a little clearer. And then – most importantly – he needed to call his sponsor. Because he could really use a drink right now.
Satisfied with his plan, he eventually managed to turn the handle and walk in. His father was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, texting on his phone with one hand and holding a glass in the other. On the table was the bottle of Don Julio Royale that he had brought Schneider as a gift. He glanced up as Schneider entered the room, a pompous grin plastered on his face. "Hey there, son. I'm just waiting on a call about the appraisal on the building."
"I see you're enjoying my present." Schneider closed the door behind him and took off his jacket.
His father chuckled, looking back down at his phone. "Yeah, well, it's very expensive. If you aren't going to enjoy it, someone should."
"I guess so."
Schneider sat down beside the man, and couldn't help but glance at the now opened bottle of tequila. It had been a long time since any booze had seen the inside of his apartment. He knew he needed to get both the bottle and his father, out of there as soon as possible. "Look, Dad..."
"I gotta say, son," His father interrupted him. His whole life his father never really listened to him. No matter what Schneider was talking about, as soon as Father thought of something more interesting to him he would just start talking. He was never sure if it was just natural to him – it just came with being an asshole – or if he was doing it on purpose just to make his son feel like shit. Regardless, it worked. He slid his phone into his pocket and placed his glass on the coffee table. "When I sent you to America, I didn't have much hope for you. And for a while there you seemed to be proving me right.” Schneider clasped his hands together, looking down at the floor beneath him. “But finally, after all these years... you've shown me that you’re capable of being the man I always wanted you to be. And you should be proud of that."
The words were less comforting than before. When his father told him he was proud of him earlier, he had felt this strange warmth inside him. It was unfamiliar but welcomed. He had spent so many years trying to impress his father, and so many years drinking when he couldn't. It felt like he had actually accomplished something.
But now, upon further reflection, the feeling wasn't as foreign as he had first thought. Feeling proud and loved wasn't new to him – it was just the person on the other end that was new. He was thrilled when his father called him Son, but he realized now that he was even prouder when Lydia put his eight-year chip in the Alvarez Museum. Hell, he felt that same love and warmth when Lydia complimented his Spanish. Or when Penelope thanked him for his advice. Or when Alex jumped into his arms after a particularly great game.
So yes, he had been searching for acceptance his whole life. But that moment with his dad wasn't him finally finding it. He had already found it with the Alvarez's. And by the look on Pen's face, he may have screwed that up for good.
He was still lost in thought when his father's phone went off. He looked down at his screen and grinned. "Oh, I definitely have to take this. I'll be right back, Goldie." He rose from the couch and walked into the back room. Schneider watched him go, but once he turned the corner his gaze wandered to the barely touched glass of tequila on the table. Incredibly expensive tequila. The kind of tequila he kept his apartment stocked with constantly back in the day. Would one glass really be that bad? He could handle it, couldn't he?
No. He couldn't handle it. No addict could, that's kind of the whole point. His mind drifted back to the week before Elena's quinces, when Pen had kicked Victor out of her apartment – and into Schneider's – for making that very same mistake. If Victor had gotten his shit together earlier, when Penelope told him to, the two of them would probably be together right now. But Victor couldn't stop, and Pen knew better than to put up with that shit. And that was her husband. There was no way she would put up with her friend slipping back. Her landlord, for Christ's sake.
But God, he could really use a drink right now.
He remembered what he needed to do. Standing up, he grabbed the bottle and placed it back into it’s ‘house.’ Needing it out of his line of sight, but not wanting to offend his father by hiding it away, he left it on console against the wall. Now he needed to pour the glass out in the sink.
He wondered briefly if he should call his sponsor. But with his father in the other room, it would be too embarrassing. He would have to handle it himself.
It's not like he hasn't touched alcohol in the last eight years. The Alvarez's drank at every party they held – and they drank a lot. Well, Lydia did at least. They also threw a lot of parties. When clean up time came he never had any problem grabbing half-full glasses of rum and wine from around the living room. But he was surrounded by friends and family, then. It was easier.
He picked up the glass and stared down at it. He gently swirled the amber-colored liquid around, watching it longingly. One drink really wouldn't hurt. He had been through a tough day – he kind of deserved it.
Besides, if he really was his father's son, he should be able to take it. He should be able to drink one glass – just one – and not spiral out of control.
He could hear his dad’s faint laughter from another room. His father didn't care about the people in this building. He didn't care about how the tenants Schneider had come to care for over the past two decades would be affected. He just wanted to make a bit of extra money. Was that really the man Schneider aspired to be? Sure, he'd always been wealthy. And a bit oblivious to the real world. But was he really going to be so downright greedy?
Penelope was right. Of course, she was right. He was making a huge mistake. One that he would no doubt regret. But, even worse than that, he knew he didn't have the guts to do anything about it. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to muster up the courage to tell his father no. His dad didn't exactly welcome disparagement.
Which he knew was stupid because Schneider was a 40-year-old man. His father shouldn't be able to control him like that. But that didn’t change the fact that he definitely, definitely could.
If he couldn’t stand up to his father, he would have to go along with his plan to turn the building into condos. If he went along with the plan, all the tenants he had befriended over the years would end up having to leave, being replaced with privileged, rich assholes just like himself. The Alvarez's would leave as well, and they would never forgive him for that. And he would never forgive himself.
As much as they had accepted him before, Pen's words echoed in his mind. He could insert himself into their lives as much as he wanted. He could invite himself to dinner, take Alex to games, make fun of Elena's Spanish... But he wasn't part of the family. Not really. The only family he had was currently on the phone discussing what to do with all the money they were about to make at the expense of everyone Schneider loved. Him, and five mother’s who call him once a year on Christmas.
Now that was something worth drinking to.
After eight years of sobriety, the tequila went down surprisingly smooth, but also hit harder than he was expecting. Back in the day he could out drink just about anybody. But after so many years of being out of practice, he could feel the effects just as strongly as he could back when he was just getting started. His face was a little hot, but in a good way. It was a welcoming taste. He brought the glass with him into his bedroom, unloosening his tie as he went.
He draped the tie over a chair and sat down in bed. He took the last swig of the drink and let the empty glass fall from his grasp and onto the mattress. He stared at himself in the mirror beside his bed. The man staring back still looked like him. He still looked like Sober Him. But it didn’t feel like Him.
A lot of emotions were hitting him one after another, and it was hard to process them all at once.
He felt great. Better than he had in years. Why had he kept this from himself for so long? Why had he denied himself something that made him feel so good?
He also felt awful. He had really fucked up now. Eight years of his life just went down the drain. It's not like he had anything else to show for that time. Being sober was literally the only thing he had accomplished. It was all he had, and now it was over.
He also felt like having another glass. There was a whole bottle left in the living room. If his father had some too, it wouldn't really be all that much. Splitting a bottle wasn't spiraling, was it?
He also knew he should go downstairs and apologize to Penelope. Beg her to forgive him. But she wouldn't accept a half-assed apology. She was a strong woman, and she didn't need him to show up at her door with alcohol on his breath, telling her he was sorry. Not unless he had something to show for it.
But he still wasn't going against his dad. This drink had made him feel good, but not that good. So, really, things were all the same. Except now he had had a drink. Shit.
He sat by himself for a while, trying to keep track of all the thoughts running through his mind. He stood up a few times with the intention to pour himself another drink, but always sat back down before he even made it through his bedroom door. He could still hear his father’s muffled voice through the wall. It reminded him of living at home when he was a kid. Which, in turn, reminded him of why he started drinking at 13 in the first place.
He had no idea how much time had passed since he secluded himself in there when he heard a knock on his front door. Which was... bad? Surprising? He didn't really know because he didn't have time to figure it out before he was in the living room, answering it.
Of course, it was Penelope.
“Hey."
"Hey, come on in." He gestured for her to walk into his apartment.
She wandered over to the couch but didn't sit down. Her face was a little pale, and her eyes were focused. She didn’t look as upset as she had back up in her apartment, but the effects of their argument were still lingering on her features. "Sorry I kicked you out before. But it's nice to know that you are actually capable of leaving my apartment when asked."
At any other time, Schneider would have laughed at that. But there was too much going on in his head right now. "I’m so sorry, Pen, I don't know what to say." It was true. He felt like he was at a loss for words, which was a strange experience for him, to say the least.
"No, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.” When she smiled up at him, her eyes crinkled just slightly. “This is your building. And it is a good business decision. And Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot I'd’ve kicked your ass out, too."
He smiled, but something didn't feel right. He should be happy that she was apologizing. She was giving him the O.K. to sell the building, despite the consequences she would be left to deal with. It was really a perfect solution. If she wasn't going to be mad at him, he wouldn't have to stand up to his father. For the first time in his life, both of them would be on his side. Isn’t that what he wanted?
He suddenly felt an enormous wave of guilt wash over him. He never should have had that drink. He had overreacted, big time. Penelope was angry – as she had every right to be. But, being Penelope, he should have known that she wasn’t going to let that sever the tie between them. She wasn’t going to hold that above him. She just… accepted his decision, and forgave him for making it. Like real family does.
“Thanks.” He sat down on the couch, clasping his hands together. He needed to tell Penelope about the drink. Nothing good could be gained from lying to her. Penelope had come to him in her darkest moments, and he should be able to do the same.
Yet the thought of her being once again disappointed in him was a lot to bear. The two of them hadn’t been close the last time he relapsed. Lydia may have seen him at rock bottom, but Penelope only really knew him as sober. It was eight years ago, and even though she was aware of his problem, it wasn’t the same as living through it.
His own family couldn’t deal with him during his relapses. His father may have paid for his rehab visits, but he never came down to see him. His grandparents lived in Pasadena, but they couldn’t have been bothered to make the drive to LA. Was Penelope really ready to see this other side of him? Was she even willing to?
Penelope settled down beside him, so close that her leg pressed against his. The physical touch helped to ground him, and he focused his thoughts back to the present. "I can't expect you to push your father away because of us. I get it, family is everything. No one knows that more than me." She leaned in closer, reassuring him, “The Alvarez’s are gonna be okay. And so are we.”
Schneider let out a small sigh of relief. “Great.” Penelope took his hand in her own. Her skin was soft to the touch and gave him something to hold onto. "But I gotta say… I don't think you should try so hard to become the man your father wants you to be. Because I like the man you are just fine."
Schneider was overwhelmed by the bittersweet moment. Once again he was reminded how loyal the Alvarez's truly were. How kind Penelope truly was. He had been waiting his whole life for someone to tell him it was okay to be exactly who he was. Not that he had the potential to be a better man, or that he was capable of being more. But that he was already more.
If only he had waited to hear that before that tequila.
He pulled her into a tight embrace, which she reciprocated fully. He closed his eyes and tried to appreciate this moment in its entirety. He felt like he could have stayed that way forever: the two of them on his couch, arms locked around each other. He had always complimented Lydia's hugs because he knew she would appreciate it. But really, all the Alvarez's were perfect at it. They knew how to make you feel loved.
"What, Mar-a-Lago? Won't you be busy?" A pause, followed by a laugh. "Haha… I'm kidding. Okay, see ya." His father hung up the phone, spinning around on his heal to face his son. "Just got an appraisal on the units… it was even higher than I thought it would be-!"
“Actually, Father, I've decided I'm not going to take the building condo." He spit out the words as quickly as he could without slurring them all together. He needed to get them out before he chickened out.
"What?" His father and Penelope reacted in unison.
“I really like everything the way it is.”
His father pushed past Penelope, who quickly moved so he could stand directly in front of his son. "You're screwing up the one thing you've done right in the last 20 years?"
Schneider couldn't help but think that the one good thing he had done the last 20 years was ruined as soon as he took that drink, but now was not the time to bring that up. "Well, this building is full of people I care about, and who care about me. And I don't want to screw that up." He scanned his father’s face for any signs of understanding and found nothing. “Plus, I have enough money.”
“Enough money? I sent you to school in America, so you could forget that polite Canadian crap and learn some decent values.”
Schneider stood his ground. “My mind is made up.”
“This is incredible! I’ve given you everything and you’ve been a constant disappointment! I put you through rehab three times!”
“If you were a better father, you’d know you put me through rehab five times!” Schneider kept his eyes focused on his father so that he didn’t have to look at Penelope's reaction to all of this. “And you haven’t given me everything. I don’t remember you ever, once, saying you loved me.”
“Oh, really?” His father shook his head in disbelief. “So, this is about a little boy who’s sad because Daddy never said ‘I love you?’ Grow up, Goldie. You know what, I’m officially done trying with you.”
His father had never tried with him. He had never given him a chance. He could tell himself that he tried to be a good father if he wanted to, but Schneider knew better. And finally, he was ready to give up on trying to be a good son. "Then we have something in common. Now get out of my building."
His father's eyes went wide, his mouth agape. It was the look of a man who had never been told no in his life, and certainly not by his own son. "Gladly."
He walked past Schneider, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Schneider stood, completely frozen. His dad was offended, angry even. But Penelope and the Alvarez's were going to be safe. His heart was pounding against his chest. The heat in his face from before had been intensified by the adrenaline running through him. If he was being completely honest, standing up to his father had been freaking amazing. But at the same time, he thought be might throw up.
He couldn't help but think that it only took one drink to give him the courage he needed to throw his dad out. Just one glass and he was able to do what was right for Penelope. He was able to so something good. How often could he actually say that?
He hadn't noticed the silence until Penelope loudly broke it. "That was freaking amazing! Where did that come from?" She brought her hands from her temple to out in front of her, just like Alex always did when he was surprised. Now he knew where he got that from.
Penelope’s face was beaming, and her smile was – for lack of a better word – intoxicating. Despite his mixed feelings about all that had happened, he knew he had done a good thing. It was all worth it to see her face lit up like that. "Thanks, it felt amazing."
She outstretched her arms toward Schneider. "Oh my God, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you! Really… you didn’t have to.”
Schneider shrugged, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. "Yeah, I did..." Penelope met his eyes. "Family’s everything."
Looking like she might burst out into tears right then and there, she quickly wrapped him in a hug. When she pulled away she had to wipe a few tears away from her eyes. "Hey, you wanna come to dinner? You can invite Avery! And I’ll even get out the good cookies that Mami and Alex hide in the oatmeal tin!”
"Thanks! Yeah, I'll be right down. Just, uh, I just need a minute.”
“Okay!” Penelope clapped her hands together, literally jumping up and down with excitement. “Oh my God! We’re staying! But wait, you’re not going to raise the rent, right?” Stopping herself, she quickly backpedaled. “You know what, we’re going to talk about that later.”
As she left, singing and dancing the whole way out the door, Schneider felt an itch he hadn’t felt in a long time. The all too familiar feeling that accompanied every relapse.
Penelope ran into Elena on the way out, and the two exchanged words, but he wasn’t really paying attention at that point. All he could think about was getting her out of the apartment. As soon as the door was closed, he checked out the peephole to ensure she had really left and then locked the door.
Schneider didn't think much as he grabbed the bottle of tequila and brought it back over to the coffee table. For a few moments, he was totally on autopilot. He pulled it out of the box and placed it directly in front of him. He sat on the couch, leaning forward, his hands covering his face.
Part of him was screaming at him to control himself. Don't have that drink. Call Nick. Call Penelope back up. Tell somebody that you've slipped.
Part of him was edging him on. Have another glass. Have the whole bottle. Do what you've been dying to do for the last eight years. Live a little.
Before he even realized what he was doing, the bottle was in his hands. He traced his fingers up the side until they rested on the lid.
Don’t do it.
He slowly opened it, bringing the bottle to his lips. The smell of alcohol was strong and all too overwhelming.
This is a huge mistake.
He tipped back the bottle and drank.
And it felt really good. He had made the right decision.
He had finished about a third of the bottle before he stopped, scolding himself. This was a terrible decision. He was supposed to be having dinner with the Alvarez's.
He hid the tequila away in a cabinet and ran to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. It was hard to look himself in the eye.
He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face. He gargled some mouth wash, spit it out, and gargled some more. He did that several times before he was sure he tasted no traces of alcohol on his tongue.
He rushed downstairs but stopped when he got to the front door. He stared at it for a few moments, silently asking himself am I really going to do this?
He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this apartment was his happy place. If there was ever a time where he desperately needed to be distracted and happy, it was now.
Without knocking he entered the apartment and saw Penelope and Lydia in the kitchen. Penelope glanced up at him as he did, smiling.
“What’s for dinner, Boo?”
“Moros y Cristianos,” Penelope answered.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Schneider crossed the living room into the kitchen. “I was talking to your mother.” He slid one hand around Lydia, who beamed up at him.
She patted him on the arm. “Oh, Schneider, you are going to love it.”
“Well as long as you’re the one making it, I’m sure I will!”
Penelope rolled her eyes and gestured to the cabinet. “Grab the oatmeal tin and put the cookies on the table, will you?”
Lydia gasped, dropping the wooden spoon she was holding on the floor. “How do you know about that?”
Schneider smiled to himself. As he listened to the mother and daughter argue, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to tell Penelope about his slip. No matter how understanding she was, things would be different if he wasn’t sober. He didn’t want different – he wanted this. Exactly the way it is.
He wasn’t about to put Dinner at the Alvarez’s in jeopardy. Or their open-door policy. Or their trust in him. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what he would do without them.
“Schneider, are you listening to me?”
Penelope snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Of course, I am! And yes, I also thought your hair was looking a little flat today. I can call my hairdresser. He makes house calls.”
“Que funny. Go tell Elena and Alex to come set the table for dinner.”
He might have had a few drinks in his system, but they couldn’t tell. So why did they ever have to know? He could manage this all on his own, and Penelope would never know the difference.
It was a good plan, lying. Of course, that’s what all alcoholics think, isn’t it?
But in this case, he was right. He was sure about that.
Schneider brought his hand up to his head in a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am.”
“Sorry, ma’am- I mean miss. I mean lady?” He hurried off to grab the kids, all the while content that everything was going to be alright. As long as he was here.