July 2016

"Shannon can you get that box down?" Callie asked, pointing to a well-worn cardboard box on a high shelf.

"Yeah," he grunted, reaching up and pulling it down. He grunted as the weight hit his chest. "Jesus, what's in this?" he asked, coughing as dust flew into his face. Shannon put the box on the floor and wiped his hands off. He read the writing on the top aloud, "Kids pictures."

Callie flipped the flaps up and rummaged in the box briefly before closing it again.

"Wait - what are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing. Its just not the box I was looking for," she explained. "Just leave it here. I'll see if my dad wants to do anything with it."

Shannon saw the cagey look on her face and knew it wasn't that simple, but he didn't want to push it. Instead he settled on a different subject. "Where's Chris?" he asked casually.

Callie had disappeared into one of the girls' rooms, but stuck her head out. "He's busy. He's visiting his family in Boston."

"How's that going, by the way?" he asked, leaning against the door frame.

She froze for a brief second but then turned to him. "Its going really well, actually," she replied. "He's really nice and generous."

"So that's what girls are going for these days? Generosity?" he asked with a grin. "I'll keep that in mind."

Callie rolled her eyes and returned to folding the blankets in front of her. He turned back to the hallway and found the box again. His curiosity was pushing him to open it, but he felt like that might be overstepping his bounds. Ben asked him to come help clear out the house while the two youngest were visiting his parents in Arizona. He was happy to help out since he hadn't been doing much for a while. Jared was taking the lead in writing any new music and his coffee company had hit a wall with distribution options. He needed to feel useful and Ben's request did just that. It helped that Callie was going to be there as well.

Callie reappeared a second later and handed him a pile of folded blankets. "Here. Take these down to my dad's truck."

He nodded and started down the stairs. He stopped when he saw the childhood pictures of Callie and her sisters. He wondered if there were any other pictures in the box in the hallway, pictures that might give him more of a glimpse into her childhood.

Callie never spoke about her childhood beyond the occasional memory with her dad, sisters, or Mamie. He knew she was purposefully excluding her mother, but he didn't really know why. She'd hinted at abuse, but none of the other girls really gave him that feeling when they spoke about her. He didn't know why Callie was so specific in cutting her mother out of her life. The only evidence she existed was a small framed photo of her with Ben on their wedding day that sat on the table in the entryway.

He made his way down to the kitchen and walked out to the driveway where Ben's truck was parked. It was unlocked, so he put the blankets on the back seat and headed back into the house. Mamie greeted him at the kitchen door.

"Shannon! I did not know you were here," she said warmly, her accent thick. "Come, watch the wrestling with me."

He had to pull his hand from her grasp. "I wish I could, Mamie, but I'm helping Callie upstairs. Maybe when I'm done."

He had to admit, Callie's family continually threw him off, especially when he discovered Mamie had a rousing interest in WWE wrestling and never missed a match if she could help it. The elderly woman was known to shout at the television in rapid French and it was one of the ways he had picked up most of the French curse words he knew.

Mamie disappeared into the family room and he went back upstairs. He found Callie in Ben's office, sorting through books on the shelves. She was making multiple piles on the desk.

"I thought we were just helping Ben sort through a few things in the attic?" he asked, picking up a thick volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. 

"We are. If he wants to clear out the attic, it all has to go somewhere," she explained. "Whatever he's deciding to keep isn't all going to go back up there. So something has to go."

"Wait - isn't Avril moving out for school soon?" he asked. "Can't he just turn her room into another storage area?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "You've been here during the holidays, Shan. You know that we need all the beds we can get. Unless, of course, you enjoy sleeping on the floor."

Shannon thought back to the last time he stayed over at the Morrison house during a busy event. He didn't think his spine could handle another night sleeping on a lumpy roll out bed or blow up mattress.

"What's he gonna do, turn her room into a bunk room or something?" he joked.

"Knowing my father, probably," Callie replied. She punctuated her response with a thunk as she placed another large book on the pile. "Although, I don't know why he doesn't just convert this room into another guest room. I mean, Avril will still need a place to sleep during the summers and school breaks, so its not like she's really going to be gone like Lilia or me."

"Remind me again why she's living on campus again? Wouldn't it be cheaper if she just lived with you or something?" he asked. 

"One, I don't have the room. I shared a room with one or more of my sisters my whole life. I enjoy my privacy now," Callie started. "Two, my dad thinks its important for her to have the 'college experience', even if that means going into debt for it. Could you pick that up for me?" she asked, gesturing to a box that had been taped and labeled. 

"Sure. Your dad's truck?" he asked, kneeling down to pick it up. He grunted when he felt the weight. "Jesus, what the hell is in this thing? Bricks?"

"Don't pull anything," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him as she walked by.

After he put the box in the bed of Ben's truck, he took a break to check his phone. Ten texts from his brother about Camp Mars next month. They were in full swing of the final stages of planning for the event, hoping to make it bigger and better than the year before. Jared, for his part, was in the middle of a full swing panic attack. The phone started ringing while he was in the process of typing a reply to Jared's question of 'How much glow paint is too much?'

"Jesus, Jared. What the hell is going on?" Shannon asked. 

"Where are you? I went by your house and you weren't there," Jared said. 

"I'm in Coronado with Callie. Her dad needed some help with moving some stuff," Shannon explained, leaning against the truck. 

"Why? I need you here," his brother answered. 

Shannon scoffed. "Uh, I think the guy who is missing half a leg needs me more."

"He has 5 kids. Makes them help him," Jared said petulantly. 

"What do you want?" Shannon asked, ignoring his brother's complaint. 

"I need you to help me figure out what we need for the theme nights," Jared answered. 

Shannon blinked. "Why? You've always done this by yourself. Why do you suddenly need me? Just pick some themes and tell me what I need to wear."

There was a pause. "Look, I just wanted to spend time with my brother. Is that a fucking crime?"

Shannon smiled. "No its not. But its gonna have to wait until later tonight or tomorrow. I'm really busy here."

He could practically see the pout on Jared's face. "Fine. Tomorrow."

"Goodbye Jared," he said before ending the call. 

He shook his head and went back into the house. He found Ben and Mamie looking through a photo album on the sofa in the family room. 

"Hey Shannon, come over here," Ben said, gesturing to him. "Check out these photos of Callie as a baby."

He froze for all of three seconds, wondering how he should respond. If Ben knew the things he'd done with Callie in the past, he didn't indicate it. Looking at childhood pictures of Callie was harmless, right? He walked over to the sofa and looked over Ben's shoulder. 

"There she is, fresh from the hospital in Calais," Ben said, pointing to a picture of a tiny baby in a much younger Mamie's arms. Another young woman sat next to her on a sofa. "And there's Celine," he added, softer. 

"Calais? Like the city in France?" Shannon asked. 

Ben nodded. "Belle and Callie were born in France. We moved back the US about three months after this was taken," he said, tapping the picture. "Callie is actually named after the city she was born in."

"Calais?" Shannon asked again. "I never knew that."

Callie appeared on the staircase. "What are you guys doing?"

"Looking at pictures of you when you were younger," Shannon answered. "What's that one?" he asked, pointing to another photo of Celine in front of a large lit-up carousel. 

"Oh, that's from the San Francisco Zoo. You girls used to love riding the carousel there," Ben explained with a smile. "I think you were about three there?" he asked Callie.

"So was that before or after she went to Mesa Vista?" Callie asked, an edge in her voice.

Ben stiffened. "Before," he replied through gritted teeth. 

Shannon wanted to ask what Mesa Vista was, but figured a Google search would be just as helpful. 

"Maybe you should show him the pictures of our trip to Yosemite," Callie said. "Mom was in fine form then." The edge was getting stronger. 

"Ne commence pas ça maintenant," Mamie pleaded.

"Pourquoi pas? Pourquoi remettez-vous tout cela en place?" Callie asked. She closed the distance between them and snatched the book from Ben's hands. 

"Callie, stop! That's enough!" Ben insisted, standing up. "That's no way to talk to your grandmother and certainly not the way to act in front of Shannon."

"Oh, I've seen worse, don't worry," Shannon replied automatically. He immediately regretted his words. 

"Oh? You've seen worse?" Callie rounded on him. "Vous entrez dans ma maison et vous fouillez dans des choses dans lesquelles vous n'avez pas à vous lancer." She was speaking so rapidly he couldn't understand what she was saying. "Connard, la bitte, enculé."

He didn't need a translator for the last part and he was too stunned to respond. Fortunately for him, Callie just dropped the book on the coffee table and stormed out of the house. 

"Shannon, I'm sorry," Ben said standing. 

"It's fine," he answered. "Don't worry about it. Is there anything else we need to get done?"

He would rather just move on and forget about her outburst. It was easier than wasting time getting mired down in it. 

***

Two hours later, Callie was sitting next to him in his SUV as they drove back to Los Angeles in total silence. Awkward silences were Shannon's kryptonite, so he caved and started speaking. 

"So...want to tell me why you had that little freak out moment at your dad's earlier?" he asked, not looking away from the road. He could see her turn to look at him from the corner of his eye. 

"Not really," she answered. 

"I mean, I don't really speak much French but I do know several of the words you called me at the end there, so I guess I kinda want to know where the hell it came from," Shannon said. 

She was silent for several seconds and then sighed heavily. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to pity me or some shit," she said.

"Okay...." he said in confusion.

"It bothers me that my dad just acts like nothing happened with my mom," she started. "Like she just died randomly or something. He's just like Belle. He romanticizes her so much and its just absurd," Callie explained. 

"But he loved her - Belle loved her. What's wrong with thinking about good memories?" he asked. 

"They only remember the happy times, the fun times," she said.

"What's wrong with that, though?" he repeated. 

Callie growled softly. "My mother had Bipolar Disorder and spent most of the last three years of her life in a severe Schizophrenic episode," she began. "I honestly do not remember a single time when she wasn't manic, depressed, or out of her mind. I don't remember any of those times being happy like my dad does. That picture - the one in front of the carousel? That morning she locked me in a fucking closet for two hours with her because she said she could see bugs crawling all over the walls."

He switched lanes silently. 

"When Belle spoke about our mother in such a positive, wonderful way during her wedding, I honestly had no idea who she was talking about," she continued. "Because the woman I knew as my mother rarely even knew what fucking day it was. If by some random chance she managed to drag herself out of bed and actually attempt to be a mother, she failed miserably every single time." 

He could hear emotion drifting into her voice, but kept silent. 

"I was eight when she killed herself. Eight, Shannon," she sniffled. "I remember that day as clearly as if it was yesterday because I have nightmares about it almost every night." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't have those happy memories of my mother to focus on because they're all overshadowed by the memory I have of finding her that day."

He almost swerved into the next lane in shock. "What?" Someone honked at them loudly. 

"I'm the one that found her," she repeated softly. "My dad and Mamie took me and my sisters to my soccer game. I forgot the bow that was part of my uniform, so we had to go back to the house. My mom didn't come with us because she was having one of her episodes. I went back into the house while everyone else stayed in the van. I remember calling to her, telling her I was just running in really quick. I ran down the hall to our bathroom and tried the doorknob."

He forced himself to focus on the road, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckled turned white. 

"It turned but the door was really heavy to push. I thought something was wrong with the hinges so I pushed it harder. Then I heard the back of the door hit her head against the tile. It was the worst sound I had ever heard in my life," she sobbed softly. "I squeezed into the bathroom and saw her hanging there on the back of the door. She hung herself with Jonny's Hello Kitty beach towel."

The image of Callie seeing her mother like that made his eyes tear up. The road in front of him became foggy, but he blinked, forcing himself to focus again. 

"The funny thing about it is that the police found a letter on each of our pillows. In her handwriting," she said softly, wiping her nose again. "She had spent the entire morning locked in her room, not talking to anyone. She had time to write us fucking letters, but couldn't actually spend time with us." 

Shannon could see a wry smile on her face. 

"My dad knew about this type of behavior," she scoffed. "He knew she was a danger to us, but he didn't do anything to her. He didn't try to protect any of us. He just let her keep hurting us and then he let her do...that."

"What was he supposed to do, though?" Shannon asked automatically, not thinking.

"He was supposed to lock her up!" Callie exclaimed. "If he had, she wouldn't have done all the shit she did! I certainly wouldn't have found her like that! If he had actually fought for us instead of keeping her around because he felt too guilty to commit her permanently, we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now."

"Do you think that's fair, though?" he asked. "I mean, from the way he talks about her, it sounds like he really loved her. Like he still does."

"Yeah. He loved her. But what about his kids? Didn't we fucking matter?" she demanded, more in general than to him specifically. 

He kept driving, his mind creating the image of eight-year-old Callie in a soccer uniform finding her mother's lifeless body. It wasn't something he thought he could ever forget and he didn't even live it. In that moment, he understood why Callie had been so standoffish whenever her mother was brought up and he pitied her, despite his promise, for missing something he had taken for granted for most of his life.