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There is no one I can talk to about Francisco...not my sisters (they want him deported), not my old friends (they want nothing to do with him and no longer visit us), not our neighbors (they have seen too much already), nor the people I work with (too personal and inappropriate). Francisco is an alcoholic and drug addict. We no longer invite people over to our house because we don’t know what state he will be in.  Our lives would be easier if Francisco was living somewhere else, but pushing him out would mean he would join the ranks of troubled homeless people on the streets of San Francisco. I am not willing to cause that to happen.