Greer calls at the wrong time, right after the first aftershock. That was what Shannon had taken to calling those 'little disagreements' her parents get into once things get too quiet, so quiet they can hear their thoughts stagnate. They weren't that loud, but those fights still reeked. She could feel the echoes from upstairs in her room. So when the phone rings, she almost doesn't pick it up, in case it sets off another one. The way patterns worked around here, they seemed like clockwork.
But she did pick up the receiver and answer with the token 'Hello?' Nothing too cheery, but steady enough not to give anything away. Greer was living the high life with little time to spare for sob stories. Shannon knew her friend didn't have that inclination. Not anymore.
"Shannon! Hey! I just got back from LA last night."
"That's great." It didn't come out the way she expected. She forced the smile into her words. "That's great, Greer. Can I come over?"
"You didn't have to ask, hun."
That felt good to know and Shannon allowed herself to be calmed by that old phrase, carelessly thrown out or not. She'd be lying to herself if she thought that this was a sure sign that people couldn't really change deep down within. But it was still the quiet after the storm. Shannon could use some cheering up, as wispy as this seemed.
Just in case, she gave herself twenty minutes before setting out. Nowadays, she could rarely be sure if she was the right person everyone needed around.
The sound of heels clicking along was the first Shannon heard after ringing the Carsons' doorbell. Soon after, a squeak and cuss were the next, right before Greer swept the door open and wailed, "My left Jimmy Choo heel!"
"So I take it I've been upgraded from sometime sidekick and cram-session buddy?"
Greer gasped, then punched her arm playfully.
"Shannon Kilbourne, how dare you think you occupy that lowly a position! You're the Louboutin to my Ferragamo, of course."
"Glad to know that."
Shannon knew better than expect the histrionics to end just there. Sure enough, Greer paused long enough mid-hug to toe off the much emphasized piece of footwear and pout at the snapped heel. "Really, Shan, sixty dollars after a discount. I should've known better."
"You keep telling yourself that, Carson."
She kept on smiling as Greer grabbed her by the elbow, leading her through the hallway and up the stairs to her room. Meeting her old friend nudged a warmer place inside her, in a different way from when she'd spent that afternoon with Bart. There was no point in proving herself; she was still the same, good ol' Shannon to Greer, Meg, and maybe the rest of her friends. She didn't mind that much, actually. It gave her less to build on, less to adapt to. It wasn't as tiresome with someone who wanted the one side of your heart they'd always known.
Like its owner, Greer's room hadn't changed in ways the eye could see. There were the scatterbrained magenta and fuchsia prints grinning 'ta-dah!' from the duvet, love-seat, and walls. There were the clothes and costume jewelry sprinkled over the noise, probably hoping to mask it under sugar-pastel shirts and earrings glinting under the sunlight like strewn cellophane candy-wrappers. There was Greer riding the nonsense with a stream of chatter in her wake.
And yet, when she blinked past the whirl of color and sound, there were things that shook Shannon just enough to warrant a raised eyebrow. Or two.
Leopard-print heels, red under-soles. She could see the appeal.
Greer had finally settled on the bed with a MacBook perched on a pillow before her. She patted the space beside her, motioning Shannon to sit. A few clicks later, the glow of Greer's sun-washed Californian life away from home began. She tapped a face as it appeared on-screen.
"That's TJ. I told you about him the last time I wrote? Air-guitar guy?"
"There were a lot of guys, Greer," Shannon chuckled. "I'm pretty certain you'd gone through a list as long as Stoneybrook's census of single men our age. Cut me some slack."
Greer rolled her eyes. "Sure, mock me for expanding my horizons. Recall that I explicitly mentioned I would not remain tied to the ball and chain that is a guy from this town too limited to realize there's potential beyond a lifetime of sorting clothes-racks at Bellair's and stacking dishes at Pizza Express. The provincial life wasn't made for me."
"You've been watching far too many Disney princess movies."
"Nope."
The sigh came on cue. Greer watched the slideshow with a new glum expression.
"LA's spoiled me. I had a hard time leaving."
Shannon noticed how Greer's teeth shone in the next picture that appeared. A stark-white Hollywood smile almost obscured by a pair of enormous sun-glasses that made her appear more waif-like than Shannon thought she could.
"You know what's the first thing I'm going shopping for once I get back? An agent."
"Like for bit roles in TV films?"
"Shut up. That's how they all they start out." Greer lay back and rolled over on to her stomach, allowing her chin to sink into a pillow. "Shirley Temple was an extra before she got herself that contract."
"She was three years old, Greer. You're practically ancient, compared to her."
"Please, I'm old enough to play a teen on primetime TV. The whole Dawson's Creek cast were in their twenties when they were shooting that series."
A photo of Greer posing below the distant Hollywood Sign flashed before them briefly.
Even Shannon had to admit it. "You're really set on this, aren't you?"
"Totally." There was probably a good reason why Greer had chosen that moment to bury her face in the pillow. "We should take a trip there one day. Just us girls. Rent an RV, invite Meg, sneak into Beverly Hills sometime. Oh my God, I have got to show you the boutiques they've got! They make Bellair's look like a mom-and-pop shop…"
She had a vision of the whole scene unfolding: her, Meg, and Greer nestled in an open-top candy-red Camarro on a sunny road lying between sandy plains and kitsch road-stop restaurants. They would find plenty of things to laugh at on their way and sing out of tune to Top 40 songs that smacked like bubble-gum in their mouths. Undeniably endearing as the picture was, she couldn't place her mind on the one thing about that bothered her.
"Sure, Greer. We could try that sometime…" she still found herself nodding.
A mobile chimed with the promise of an incoming text. Shannon absently patted the outside of her pocket before she noticed Greer snatch a turquoise flip-phone off the bedside table. Her eyes lit up as soon as the screen did. Giggling, she tapped out a reply with expert precision and sent it with a quick thumb-jab.
"Hot date?" Shannon asked.
"Austin Bentley."
"I've heard that name before."
"He went to Stoneybrook High. The guy drives a Cadillac and speaks French. I couldn't believe it myself."
Shannon wondered if Claudia had dated him.
"Oh, by the way, Meg sent me a message. She isn't leaving NYC until August. Apparently it's the height of party season and she wants to take advantage of the free alcopops in those Manhattan bars. End sarcastic diatribe."
"I bet you'd get free liquor in Stoneybrook if you knew where to look…" Shannon paused at the arch of Greer's eyebrow. Obviously, she'd just stumbled and stepped out of character.
"Right."
"Just saying. Not that I'd know."
"Shannon Louisa Kilbourne, have you been partying and sampling Stoneybrook's secret illicit nightlife about behind my back?"
"Of course not!"
"I promise I won't get mad. Deets please?" Greer grinned.
"Seriously. No. I haven't done much since getting back from Boston, except hang out with the old BSC girls."
"Oh yeah, that quaint little club of yours – "
"Not 'mine', anyway. I quit before the end of eighth grade, remember? I never really…"
'Belonged.'
She had never been more grateful for Greer cutting off her sentence.
"I heard they broke up around high-school though? Thank God. Their cult modus operandi always made my skin crawl."
"Thirteen year olds."
A small pause later, she met Greer's gaze on its way to the silver-framed photo hanging on the wall across. It had been taken after a dress rehearsal for the Drama Club's 'Night of Shakespeare'; Shannon even remembered the hours of frustration spent on sewing yards of ruffles into her Desdemona costume. Meg had landed the role of Juliet… she remembered the flowy chiffon gown and fake roses in her hair. Which part had Greer played again…
"Were we as terrible?"
"Not in my mind."
That was the truth, as far as Shannon knew.
Unlike with Bart, Shannon allowed herself to stay over for dinner at the Carsons'. Whether Mr. and Mrs. Carson's marriage felt as solid behind locked doors was another thing, but for the moment, it felt nice to see something good in progress. Prose and poetry had taught Shannon that all relationships were works in progress, but that couldn't discount for the warmth in a glance passed carefully from one to another as if it were a diamond ring or secret key. A thing that was precious, to be beheld and adored with all the heart of one of a committed pair.
Greer often complained that her parents were 'in cahoots with each other' whenever she got into trouble. The phrase made Shannon laugh instead, as she imagined the Carsons plotting away in the privacy of their bedroom. Maybe Mr. Carson patted his wife's arm comfortingly when their daughter was a few hours late for curfew, maybe she would fix him with one of those knowing looks that most settled couples forged over the years.
Shannon knew these things. She'd heard of them. She studied them, hoping that they would fit in place like rungs on a ladder when it came time to navigate her own one true relationship and she wouldn't make the same mistakes again and bear the same agony.
Maybe she was being melodramatic. Maybe Greer had finally rubbed off on her.
Yeah, it could be that simple.
Greer tried to talk her into a sleep-over which she brushed off weakly with the excuse of getting started on extra projects for college.
"Good Lord, Shannon! You never learn, do you?"
That phrase hurt harder than it ought to.
If truth be told, she instantly regretted refusing to stay the night once she'd turned the corner from the Carson's and headed straight for home down the street. The only things she could think of then were things more depressing than returning to a big empty house. She could have spent the night in Greer's room, munching on Graham crackers as they watched musicals on her new flat-screen, talking about anything but boys and old friends.
But try as she did to convince herself that one night of blessed forgetfulness would have set things right for the next few weeks, she had already realized that she had changed too little to catch up with those old friends.
Was she really this naïve? Greer and Meg wanted to move on to better, brighter things halfway across the country while she hung on to the boring, plain, safe ol' Stoneybrook she'd called home.
And now that she really thought of it, maybe it was time for her to move on. Not out or away, but try and move on.
The open door had Shannon raising her guard as she entered her house, only for her to drop it momentarily as she came across Tiffany on the hallway phone. Sighing with annoyance, she was about to go upstairs before she noticed her sister's color.
Pale, trembling, Tiffany lowered the receiver and turned to Shannon.
"It's Bart."
Something in her voice caught. Shannon waited for the bomb to drop, silent with anxiety.
"He… he… oh, Shannon, he's in hospital. They're saying he tried to kill himself…"