Featuring: Penelope James and Shannon Ramsey
Small feature: Sylvester "Sly" James
The last few years had been busy for Shannon Ramsey.
In a sad state of affairs, a young girl by the name of Allison Davies had passed away several years prior and she did so in the presence of a lot of children even younger than her; including Shannon’s own youngest daughter Mei. It only made sense for the parents to send the kids to be psychoanalysed and see if they were struggling, in trouble or in a dark place. Soon after, the town itself spiraled and more and more bad things seemed to happen. Although she felt awful for the Davies family and the wider Edenridge populace in general, Shannon couldn’t help but be appreciative of the income she was currently making, especially since her elder daughter Reagan was attending medical school which was not cheap. More recently; somebody had been sending letters to the townsfolk, letters that stirred unresolved feelings and posed unanswerable questions.
She remembered when she first started as an intern herself that the office she now owns. The town was in the midst of another pandemic at the time. A new craze had taken over, with the children of the town invoking the names of Edenridge killers of yore like Nathaniel Carlisle, BT and the Hangman. Her mind drifted to this memory for a singular reason, her next client; Penelope James. Poppy was a good girl from all accounts, a rarity for the Southsider but she came from good stock. Shannon knew her father Sylvester very well. The reason she worried for Poppy however was because of the company she kept. If teens were to call upon the names of murderers once more, then there was most certainly only one name that would be on Penelope’s lips; Charlie Decker.
Hearing the ringing of a doorbell; Shannon got up to her feet and straightened out her smart skirt before walking towards the office door. She would recognize the strong silhouette on the other side anywhere. She got herself into character before opening up.
“Hey there.”
With his always ready broad smile, Police Lieutenant Sly and his gentle eyes examined the woman standing before him. In seemingly good spirits, though she would know better (it was the mask he wore in front of his child), he greeted, “Shannon, it’s good to see you.” As he moved his stance ever so slightly to let Penelope through, he praisingly observed, “You never seem to age, do you?” It was clear they had a past and to this day the dashing doof found a way to slip in flattery compliments.
“Well thank you, Sylvester. I do try.”
He and Shannon— they were highschool sweethearts with a complicated ending. To be honest, the fact that she accepted Penelope as a client certainly did surprise the man, but he wasn’t going to question it. Neither he or Victoria had time to drive to Boston and find Penelope a therapist. Shannon was the best in the area and he trusted her. She likely couldn’t say the same with him, but a paying customer was a paying customer, right?
Still, Sly wasn’t one to brood and think of the past. If he did, he would break from the thought of all he lost. It was his job to heal his wife and his daughters. It was his job to protect the town and show southsiders that they can strive for more, like he and Victoria did. That they can survive and make something out of themselves. That they can be happy.
So here he was, trying to aid his daughter in finding her footing after all the heartbreak he had caused. Against Victoria’s wishes, Sly sat down with his ex and started this arrangement because he believed his daughter had so much more to offer and if anyone was going to bring that out it would be Shannon.
“Dad.”
Here’s to hoping he was right.
“Dad.”
“Yes, Penelope?” Bringing his attention from Shannon to his child, Sly was taken aback when he looked straight into his daughter’s determined gaze. Something he hadn’t seen in a long while. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, just wanted to say thank you. For this.” Penelope gestured toward Shannon’s office, which was her way of describing all that her father has done for her thus far. “I know I don’t tell you often, if at all, but I do appreciate you.”
Conflicted, yet proud, Sly pulled his youngest daughter with his arm and gave her a quick, affectionate embrace, while slipping a kiss on her forehead. “Anytime, kiddo.” He wanted to hold onto her words, but deep down, he still knew she hadn’t forgiven him for Charlie’s death. At least, she was talking. This, he would be happy about. He didn’t want her thanks or her appreciation, though. All he wanted was her to be okay.
“I should leave you two to do your thing,” Sly cleared his throat, a little embarrassed after noticing the sharp, attentive stare his ex was giving him, “...Good luck,” He absentmindedly stepped back, dismissing himself (not comfortable in showing his vulnerable side), “Call me if you need me.”
Shannon brushed back her long black hair and smiled. Irregardless of any personal feelings and the past that they shared, she always had the utmost respect for Sly for how he turned his life around and for the man he had become. When they were together, he was a rough and tumble serpent ready to take on the world: a typical Southsider. Yet now he stood before her as one of the few honest police officers on the force, a hero of the town and a good father to boot…plus he was wearing the hell out of those jeans.
“You can trust me. We’re gonna have a good day, right Poppy?” She waved off her ex and closed the door behind him. “Ok Pops, grab yourself a seat, relax for a minute and we’ll get started. You want something to drink?” Shannon asked as she moved towards her mini fridge. “I got some sodas, juice or alternatively I can get my assistant to run out and get some coffee or tea from Rochambeau?” Shannon had done this a million times before; she knew how to make someone at ease in her presence. She was disarming in her manner; apple pie sweet, a soft but firm voice. She was powerful yet graceful in her movement. “Or if you just want to get to the nitty gritty, we can do that too.”
Watching the door close in front of her father, Penelope allowed herself to get pulled into the den that forced her to acknowledge the two wolves, her two selves, that burned inside her. Charlie had told her an ancient Cherokee tale, where a grandfather tells his grandson about the two wolves fighting within each and every one of us. Everyone has a fight going on inside of them, whether it’s anger and peace or arrogance and humility, there is a raging battle going on.
The victor?
‘The one you feed,’ the grandfather said.
Shuffling her feet to the chaise lounge chair, Penelope plopped onto it and shook her head, “Nah, I’m good. Big mama wouldn’t let me leave until I drank all my OJ and ate my grits…” Shifting her hands to her face mask, Poppy pulled it down, which was an improvement from a year ago when she was diagnosed with agoraphobia. She was still an anxious, little thing but whatever she experienced last night seemed to be helping her take the steps she needed to handle social situations again. If not large group settings then certainly intimate one on ones.
With red eyes, having cried herself to sleep, and dark circles, Penelope’s green eyes appeared strikingly vivid, invoking pain and hope. Not only did her sleep deprivation cause her irises to stand out, but the sunlight peering in from the large casement windows highlighted her in the most angelic of ways. “What do you want to talk about? I can’t be here for a full hour... I got plans.”
“Plans?”
Now there was something Shannon wasn’t expecting to hear. Poppy was terrified to leave her room let alone make plans with someone; and the girl wasn’t a liar so she knew that she was telling the truth. Something had changed. Had it changed for the better? That was still to be determined. She moved over to her seat just opposite Penelope and sat down. Pulling her notepad and pen from the energy draw, Shannon’s chestnut eyes fell onto the surviving James girl before she spoke once more.
“What plans have you got Penelope? I’m curious.”
“Mordechai.” The young girl said matter-of-factly, replaying her friend’s words from last night. Even if he wasn’t here, she didn’t want to disrespect him by calling him a name his dead brother used to call him more often than not. “He’s back,” she elaborated, as she turned her gaze to the window, “And he has a family.” There was a subtle emphasis on the last word, with more meaning than she herself realized. A sensitive word, constantly in the back of her subconscious.
After a moment of silence, Penelope absentmindedly rubbed her hands on her jeans, feeling the texture and friction. When she looked back at the therapist, she shrugged, “He wants me to meet them.”
“Interesting.” Shannon scribbled some notes onto her pad before raising her eyes to meet Poppy’s once more. Eye contact was a big thing to pursue when it came to her. It showed that someone actually saw Penelope and she wasn’t just the wraith of a human she had wished to be since the unfortunate events surrounding Charlie Decker took place. “And to use that old cliche; how does that make you feel?” She posed. “It’s my understanding that you were his family. You, Jade…Charlie?”
Shannon tilted her head ever so slightly. Charlie had been a constant theme when it came to her talks with Penelope. She didn’t know the boy personally other than the passing mentions that Mei had made over the intervening years. She remembered his mother during high school: Rhonda. It was a shame what happened to her; in some ways she was a great parallel Poppy. They were very similar in so many ways.
“Are.” Penelope corrected without hesitation. Her gaze sharpened at the mention of Charlie. “We are family.” It didn’t matter that Mordechai left without saying ‘see you later’ or ‘goodbye’. It didn’t matter that he had a child and didn’t let anyone know until now. It didn’t matter he was part of the reason Charlie got pushed to the edge. Scars cut deep. She knew that. He lost his purpose. His little brother. And she knew, he blamed himself. After last night, it’s come to light that they all blamed themselves for Charlie’s downfall and Danny’s death.
As she wrinkled her nose, Penelope slipped her hands into the opposite sleeves so that her hands were no longer visible to the eye. Fidgeting was something she did often as she sat down talking about feelings. Therapy was uncomfortable, especially with someone who considered herself as a professional yet never came across as someone who understood what southsiders went through - always the critic, never the teacher. Penelope didn’t think this was working. She showed up for her parents. And for Jade. She showed up, in hopes to ‘get better’ but still, the walls were up.
How could she trust her therapist? Deep down, Shannon Ramsey would never know how it feels to be stuck on the south of the trackside. Deep down, Shannon pitied her. Deep down, Shannon believed her friends chose to react to their shitty circumstances poorly, instead of being a boulder like Sylvester James, who pulled himself out of the dark. Shannon judged them for not having enough strength to do that.
Most southsiders became exactly what people perceived them to be. Northsiders could offer a lifeboat, but instead they chose to watch the damned drown. It’s just how things are, it’s how things always have been. In all honesty, it took people like Beau, who didn’t judge where you came from, who didn’t project his opinions, and who didn’t force anything onto you, to see your worth.
That all aside, how does meeting Mordechai’s family make her feel? “I’m happy for him. He has a reason to live,” she smiled to herself at the positive prospect of her friend being a father and the hope that what he has could only mean good for him. Her eyes grew distant at the thought of her never having a family with Charlie.
Family.
That word weighed heavily on her.
“He’s been through a lot so to hear he has unconditional love in his life- of course that makes me happy.”
Shannon polished off her coffee as she listened to Poppy’s feelings. She truly was a broken person. Her phrasing very much portrayed the idea that Penelope did not feel as unconditionally loved as her compatriot. In previous sessions it had become clear that the young girl clung to the last breath of a memory, not uncommon by any stretch. The problem was the memory was a dark one; one most Edenridge residents would rather forget.
“Let’s shift gears a little,” The therapist turned the page of her notepad and put pen to paper once again. “The letters.” Shannon spoke somewhat bluntly. “Where are you with all that? What does seeing Charlie’s words, his innermost thoughts, what does that do to you? How does it make you feel?”
With dull eyes, Penelope listened to the questions that she knew were coming. It would be unlike her therapist to not bring up the letters that her childhood friend wrote. There seemed to be a pattern with these sessions and usually they led to Charlie because it didn’t take a brain surgeon to see that he was all Penelope could think of. “I’d like to think I was the closest person to him, so it’s not so much his words that have put me in a weird place.”
Poppy freed her hands from Charlie’s hoodie’s sleeves, getting increasingly annoyed at the thought of Charlie’s journal. “It’s no one’s goddamn business what he wrote. Shit like that is sacred. I don’t care what anyone has to say about him, they will never know him like I did. And seriously, it’s all just stupid. You do NOT fuck with the dead.” It really did blow Penelope’s mind how evil people were, even defiling Charlie’s grave. Did they think that made them a better person for cursing an already dead person? What did that accomplish besides make them assholes? Charlie already dug his grave and they were just showing exactly why he did what he did.
There are no saints in Edenridge.
If people actually paid attention in history class, they would know this place was damned the moment Nathanial Carlisle claimed the land as his own, corrupting all things that were spiritual and good. “How about you? How do you feel about all this? Clearly, Charlie’s words hold more weight than people gave him credit for. Props to Mei for punching ReyRey right in the face last night. Takes a lot of balls to do that.” Perhaps instead of checking on other kids of Edenridge, Shannon should be checking on her daughter.
Shannon bit her tongue and held in her emotions; it was technique she had taught her eldest daughter well but perhaps not so much her younger one, if Penelope’s words were to be believed. As it often did, the invocation of Charlie Decker’s name prompted the highest emotional response from her. Every other session that they held together always ended the same way, the topic of a boy who made an ill fated decision which resulted in heartache for an entire community.
The day itself was etched in Shannon’s memory. She had just gotten to her office when she got a call saying shots had been fired at the school. She jumped into a cab like so many other parents and made her way there. Her baby girl was there. For those few hours, Shannon’s logical mind was transformed into pure irrationality as she screamed, held back by police on the scene trying to get to Mei. She tried and tried to get hold of Will but he was out of state, doing a guest spot at another gym. She couldn’t believe it when she saw her little girl being carried out of the building by EMT’s with blood pouring from her neck. Followed by the near headless body of whom would later be identified as Quinton Woods. Mei was lucky that day and if Poppy’s words were to be believed, she was lucky again the previous night. Shannon did wonder if her little dove’s luck would soon run out; Mei lived a life without fear and she didn’t know how healthy that really was.
“I can respect your frustrations. Miss James and as far as my daughter goes, she’s old enough to make her own choices. Do I necessarily agree with them? Absolutely not. I’m her mother and I will always want what is best for her but you have to give someone space for them to truly find who they really are. She’s a big girl, what she does is what she does” The therapist glanced at the clock briefly before returning her attention to Poppy once more. “What Mei did was a risk and while we’re on the topic; you once told me that Charlie left you a book that you couldn’t open, have you managed to do so yet?”
Space. Look what that did to Charlie. No one noticed he was crying for help. There’s only so much space a child can endure until it seems like no one notices them. No one cares about them. While Penelope didn’t agree with coddling, she also did not think kids should have full reign over their adolescence lives. They still need guidance and support. They still need someone that takes time out of their busy schedule to show they are willing to listen to them and walk with them through their pain and struggle.
What would she know, though? She was a broken girl who cried over a dead boy that her father killed. A boy that scarred the town like no one else had done before. And yet, she still forgave him and loved him. “Why does that matter? It’s not going to have some secret note explaining why his mental health deteriorated. It isn’t going to give anyone enough explanation why he did the thing he did. It’s not going to give the feeling of justice because you, and everyone in this town, need someone to blame for the dark shit happening in this town even before he shot up the school.” Poppy paused at the last statement showing she isn’t a fool. She knew well enough that Charlie chose evil on his dying day. That doesn’t change she saw the good in him. He buried it with hate and she will not excuse his behavior but that doesn’t change how she feels about him. “I’m sure it’s just a book he wrote but never got the chance to publish.” No longer wanting to talk things out with her therapist that only judged her, Penelope stood up, expressing her desire to leave.
Shannon wasn’t like Beau. Her way of doing things was wrong and Penelope knew that this therapy thing wasn’t for her. It didn’t accomplish anything. Whether it’s her therapist’s method or therapy in general, Poppy did not think someone with such a northsider mentality would ever get it. “I’ll read it when I read it. Anyways, it’s been real.” She was over it. “I’m gonna go.”
Sighing through her nose, Shannon pushed up her glasses and placed her notepad back on the table. “I’d rather you not leave, Penelope, but if that’s what you want then the door is open.” She was no fool. She understood that Poppy was closer to this whole situation than anybody else. She was so wrapped up in the looming shadow of Charlie Decker that although she could see everybody else’s pain and acknowledge it, not much of anything other than her own hurt mattered.
There was no north side conspiracy against southsiders. Shannon was not ashamed of her own origins as a south sider. She never hid the fact and when she asked she would talk of the struggle openly but Shannon got out and she got out alive. She knew just how hard it could be and how dangerous the so-called curse affected people on that side of the tracks.
“I’ll see you next week, Miss James.”
“Yeah,” Emotionally unconnected to the woman in the room, nothing held Penelope back. Bonds weren’t made in a forced setting and the young girl made it clear she had her guard up with Shannon, even after a year. As she went to the door, without turning back, shifting her face mask back on her face, she whispered dismissively, “Sure.”
And with that, the youngest James was gone, with better things to do.
In a sad state of affairs, a young girl by the name of Allison Davies had passed away several years prior and she did so in the presence of a lot of children even younger than her; including Shannon’s own youngest daughter Mei. It only made sense for the parents to send the kids to be psychoanalysed and see if they were struggling, in trouble or in a dark place. Soon after, the town itself spiraled and more and more bad things seemed to happen. Although she felt awful for the Davies family and the wider Edenridge populace in general, Shannon couldn’t help but be appreciative of the income she was currently making, especially since her elder daughter Reagan was attending medical school which was not cheap. More recently; somebody had been sending letters to the townsfolk, letters that stirred unresolved feelings and posed unanswerable questions.
She remembered when she first started as an intern herself that the office she now owns. The town was in the midst of another pandemic at the time. A new craze had taken over, with the children of the town invoking the names of Edenridge killers of yore like Nathaniel Carlisle, BT and the Hangman. Her mind drifted to this memory for a singular reason, her next client; Penelope James. Poppy was a good girl from all accounts, a rarity for the Southsider but she came from good stock. Shannon knew her father Sylvester very well. The reason she worried for Poppy however was because of the company she kept. If teens were to call upon the names of murderers once more, then there was most certainly only one name that would be on Penelope’s lips; Charlie Decker.
Hearing the ringing of a doorbell; Shannon got up to her feet and straightened out her smart skirt before walking towards the office door. She would recognize the strong silhouette on the other side anywhere. She got herself into character before opening up.
“Hey there.”
With his always ready broad smile, Police Lieutenant Sly and his gentle eyes examined the woman standing before him. In seemingly good spirits, though she would know better (it was the mask he wore in front of his child), he greeted, “Shannon, it’s good to see you.” As he moved his stance ever so slightly to let Penelope through, he praisingly observed, “You never seem to age, do you?” It was clear they had a past and to this day the dashing doof found a way to slip in flattery compliments.
“Well thank you, Sylvester. I do try.”
He and Shannon— they were highschool sweethearts with a complicated ending. To be honest, the fact that she accepted Penelope as a client certainly did surprise the man, but he wasn’t going to question it. Neither he or Victoria had time to drive to Boston and find Penelope a therapist. Shannon was the best in the area and he trusted her. She likely couldn’t say the same with him, but a paying customer was a paying customer, right?
Still, Sly wasn’t one to brood and think of the past. If he did, he would break from the thought of all he lost. It was his job to heal his wife and his daughters. It was his job to protect the town and show southsiders that they can strive for more, like he and Victoria did. That they can survive and make something out of themselves. That they can be happy.
So here he was, trying to aid his daughter in finding her footing after all the heartbreak he had caused. Against Victoria’s wishes, Sly sat down with his ex and started this arrangement because he believed his daughter had so much more to offer and if anyone was going to bring that out it would be Shannon.
“Dad.”
Here’s to hoping he was right.
“Dad.”
“Yes, Penelope?” Bringing his attention from Shannon to his child, Sly was taken aback when he looked straight into his daughter’s determined gaze. Something he hadn’t seen in a long while. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, just wanted to say thank you. For this.” Penelope gestured toward Shannon’s office, which was her way of describing all that her father has done for her thus far. “I know I don’t tell you often, if at all, but I do appreciate you.”
Conflicted, yet proud, Sly pulled his youngest daughter with his arm and gave her a quick, affectionate embrace, while slipping a kiss on her forehead. “Anytime, kiddo.” He wanted to hold onto her words, but deep down, he still knew she hadn’t forgiven him for Charlie’s death. At least, she was talking. This, he would be happy about. He didn’t want her thanks or her appreciation, though. All he wanted was her to be okay.
“I should leave you two to do your thing,” Sly cleared his throat, a little embarrassed after noticing the sharp, attentive stare his ex was giving him, “...Good luck,” He absentmindedly stepped back, dismissing himself (not comfortable in showing his vulnerable side), “Call me if you need me.”
Shannon brushed back her long black hair and smiled. Irregardless of any personal feelings and the past that they shared, she always had the utmost respect for Sly for how he turned his life around and for the man he had become. When they were together, he was a rough and tumble serpent ready to take on the world: a typical Southsider. Yet now he stood before her as one of the few honest police officers on the force, a hero of the town and a good father to boot…plus he was wearing the hell out of those jeans.
“You can trust me. We’re gonna have a good day, right Poppy?” She waved off her ex and closed the door behind him. “Ok Pops, grab yourself a seat, relax for a minute and we’ll get started. You want something to drink?” Shannon asked as she moved towards her mini fridge. “I got some sodas, juice or alternatively I can get my assistant to run out and get some coffee or tea from Rochambeau?” Shannon had done this a million times before; she knew how to make someone at ease in her presence. She was disarming in her manner; apple pie sweet, a soft but firm voice. She was powerful yet graceful in her movement. “Or if you just want to get to the nitty gritty, we can do that too.”
Watching the door close in front of her father, Penelope allowed herself to get pulled into the den that forced her to acknowledge the two wolves, her two selves, that burned inside her. Charlie had told her an ancient Cherokee tale, where a grandfather tells his grandson about the two wolves fighting within each and every one of us. Everyone has a fight going on inside of them, whether it’s anger and peace or arrogance and humility, there is a raging battle going on.
The victor?
‘The one you feed,’ the grandfather said.
Shuffling her feet to the chaise lounge chair, Penelope plopped onto it and shook her head, “Nah, I’m good. Big mama wouldn’t let me leave until I drank all my OJ and ate my grits…” Shifting her hands to her face mask, Poppy pulled it down, which was an improvement from a year ago when she was diagnosed with agoraphobia. She was still an anxious, little thing but whatever she experienced last night seemed to be helping her take the steps she needed to handle social situations again. If not large group settings then certainly intimate one on ones.
With red eyes, having cried herself to sleep, and dark circles, Penelope’s green eyes appeared strikingly vivid, invoking pain and hope. Not only did her sleep deprivation cause her irises to stand out, but the sunlight peering in from the large casement windows highlighted her in the most angelic of ways. “What do you want to talk about? I can’t be here for a full hour... I got plans.”
“Plans?”
Now there was something Shannon wasn’t expecting to hear. Poppy was terrified to leave her room let alone make plans with someone; and the girl wasn’t a liar so she knew that she was telling the truth. Something had changed. Had it changed for the better? That was still to be determined. She moved over to her seat just opposite Penelope and sat down. Pulling her notepad and pen from the energy draw, Shannon’s chestnut eyes fell onto the surviving James girl before she spoke once more.
“What plans have you got Penelope? I’m curious.”
“Mordechai.” The young girl said matter-of-factly, replaying her friend’s words from last night. Even if he wasn’t here, she didn’t want to disrespect him by calling him a name his dead brother used to call him more often than not. “He’s back,” she elaborated, as she turned her gaze to the window, “And he has a family.” There was a subtle emphasis on the last word, with more meaning than she herself realized. A sensitive word, constantly in the back of her subconscious.
After a moment of silence, Penelope absentmindedly rubbed her hands on her jeans, feeling the texture and friction. When she looked back at the therapist, she shrugged, “He wants me to meet them.”
“Interesting.” Shannon scribbled some notes onto her pad before raising her eyes to meet Poppy’s once more. Eye contact was a big thing to pursue when it came to her. It showed that someone actually saw Penelope and she wasn’t just the wraith of a human she had wished to be since the unfortunate events surrounding Charlie Decker took place. “And to use that old cliche; how does that make you feel?” She posed. “It’s my understanding that you were his family. You, Jade…Charlie?”
Shannon tilted her head ever so slightly. Charlie had been a constant theme when it came to her talks with Penelope. She didn’t know the boy personally other than the passing mentions that Mei had made over the intervening years. She remembered his mother during high school: Rhonda. It was a shame what happened to her; in some ways she was a great parallel Poppy. They were very similar in so many ways.
“Are.” Penelope corrected without hesitation. Her gaze sharpened at the mention of Charlie. “We are family.” It didn’t matter that Mordechai left without saying ‘see you later’ or ‘goodbye’. It didn’t matter that he had a child and didn’t let anyone know until now. It didn’t matter he was part of the reason Charlie got pushed to the edge. Scars cut deep. She knew that. He lost his purpose. His little brother. And she knew, he blamed himself. After last night, it’s come to light that they all blamed themselves for Charlie’s downfall and Danny’s death.
As she wrinkled her nose, Penelope slipped her hands into the opposite sleeves so that her hands were no longer visible to the eye. Fidgeting was something she did often as she sat down talking about feelings. Therapy was uncomfortable, especially with someone who considered herself as a professional yet never came across as someone who understood what southsiders went through - always the critic, never the teacher. Penelope didn’t think this was working. She showed up for her parents. And for Jade. She showed up, in hopes to ‘get better’ but still, the walls were up.
How could she trust her therapist? Deep down, Shannon Ramsey would never know how it feels to be stuck on the south of the trackside. Deep down, Shannon pitied her. Deep down, Shannon believed her friends chose to react to their shitty circumstances poorly, instead of being a boulder like Sylvester James, who pulled himself out of the dark. Shannon judged them for not having enough strength to do that.
Most southsiders became exactly what people perceived them to be. Northsiders could offer a lifeboat, but instead they chose to watch the damned drown. It’s just how things are, it’s how things always have been. In all honesty, it took people like Beau, who didn’t judge where you came from, who didn’t project his opinions, and who didn’t force anything onto you, to see your worth.
That all aside, how does meeting Mordechai’s family make her feel? “I’m happy for him. He has a reason to live,” she smiled to herself at the positive prospect of her friend being a father and the hope that what he has could only mean good for him. Her eyes grew distant at the thought of her never having a family with Charlie.
Family.
That word weighed heavily on her.
“He’s been through a lot so to hear he has unconditional love in his life- of course that makes me happy.”
Shannon polished off her coffee as she listened to Poppy’s feelings. She truly was a broken person. Her phrasing very much portrayed the idea that Penelope did not feel as unconditionally loved as her compatriot. In previous sessions it had become clear that the young girl clung to the last breath of a memory, not uncommon by any stretch. The problem was the memory was a dark one; one most Edenridge residents would rather forget.
“Let’s shift gears a little,” The therapist turned the page of her notepad and put pen to paper once again. “The letters.” Shannon spoke somewhat bluntly. “Where are you with all that? What does seeing Charlie’s words, his innermost thoughts, what does that do to you? How does it make you feel?”
With dull eyes, Penelope listened to the questions that she knew were coming. It would be unlike her therapist to not bring up the letters that her childhood friend wrote. There seemed to be a pattern with these sessions and usually they led to Charlie because it didn’t take a brain surgeon to see that he was all Penelope could think of. “I’d like to think I was the closest person to him, so it’s not so much his words that have put me in a weird place.”
Poppy freed her hands from Charlie’s hoodie’s sleeves, getting increasingly annoyed at the thought of Charlie’s journal. “It’s no one’s goddamn business what he wrote. Shit like that is sacred. I don’t care what anyone has to say about him, they will never know him like I did. And seriously, it’s all just stupid. You do NOT fuck with the dead.” It really did blow Penelope’s mind how evil people were, even defiling Charlie’s grave. Did they think that made them a better person for cursing an already dead person? What did that accomplish besides make them assholes? Charlie already dug his grave and they were just showing exactly why he did what he did.
There are no saints in Edenridge.
If people actually paid attention in history class, they would know this place was damned the moment Nathanial Carlisle claimed the land as his own, corrupting all things that were spiritual and good. “How about you? How do you feel about all this? Clearly, Charlie’s words hold more weight than people gave him credit for. Props to Mei for punching ReyRey right in the face last night. Takes a lot of balls to do that.” Perhaps instead of checking on other kids of Edenridge, Shannon should be checking on her daughter.
Shannon bit her tongue and held in her emotions; it was technique she had taught her eldest daughter well but perhaps not so much her younger one, if Penelope’s words were to be believed. As it often did, the invocation of Charlie Decker’s name prompted the highest emotional response from her. Every other session that they held together always ended the same way, the topic of a boy who made an ill fated decision which resulted in heartache for an entire community.
The day itself was etched in Shannon’s memory. She had just gotten to her office when she got a call saying shots had been fired at the school. She jumped into a cab like so many other parents and made her way there. Her baby girl was there. For those few hours, Shannon’s logical mind was transformed into pure irrationality as she screamed, held back by police on the scene trying to get to Mei. She tried and tried to get hold of Will but he was out of state, doing a guest spot at another gym. She couldn’t believe it when she saw her little girl being carried out of the building by EMT’s with blood pouring from her neck. Followed by the near headless body of whom would later be identified as Quinton Woods. Mei was lucky that day and if Poppy’s words were to be believed, she was lucky again the previous night. Shannon did wonder if her little dove’s luck would soon run out; Mei lived a life without fear and she didn’t know how healthy that really was.
“I can respect your frustrations. Miss James and as far as my daughter goes, she’s old enough to make her own choices. Do I necessarily agree with them? Absolutely not. I’m her mother and I will always want what is best for her but you have to give someone space for them to truly find who they really are. She’s a big girl, what she does is what she does” The therapist glanced at the clock briefly before returning her attention to Poppy once more. “What Mei did was a risk and while we’re on the topic; you once told me that Charlie left you a book that you couldn’t open, have you managed to do so yet?”
Space. Look what that did to Charlie. No one noticed he was crying for help. There’s only so much space a child can endure until it seems like no one notices them. No one cares about them. While Penelope didn’t agree with coddling, she also did not think kids should have full reign over their adolescence lives. They still need guidance and support. They still need someone that takes time out of their busy schedule to show they are willing to listen to them and walk with them through their pain and struggle.
What would she know, though? She was a broken girl who cried over a dead boy that her father killed. A boy that scarred the town like no one else had done before. And yet, she still forgave him and loved him. “Why does that matter? It’s not going to have some secret note explaining why his mental health deteriorated. It isn’t going to give anyone enough explanation why he did the thing he did. It’s not going to give the feeling of justice because you, and everyone in this town, need someone to blame for the dark shit happening in this town even before he shot up the school.” Poppy paused at the last statement showing she isn’t a fool. She knew well enough that Charlie chose evil on his dying day. That doesn’t change she saw the good in him. He buried it with hate and she will not excuse his behavior but that doesn’t change how she feels about him. “I’m sure it’s just a book he wrote but never got the chance to publish.” No longer wanting to talk things out with her therapist that only judged her, Penelope stood up, expressing her desire to leave.
Shannon wasn’t like Beau. Her way of doing things was wrong and Penelope knew that this therapy thing wasn’t for her. It didn’t accomplish anything. Whether it’s her therapist’s method or therapy in general, Poppy did not think someone with such a northsider mentality would ever get it. “I’ll read it when I read it. Anyways, it’s been real.” She was over it. “I’m gonna go.”
Sighing through her nose, Shannon pushed up her glasses and placed her notepad back on the table. “I’d rather you not leave, Penelope, but if that’s what you want then the door is open.” She was no fool. She understood that Poppy was closer to this whole situation than anybody else. She was so wrapped up in the looming shadow of Charlie Decker that although she could see everybody else’s pain and acknowledge it, not much of anything other than her own hurt mattered.
There was no north side conspiracy against southsiders. Shannon was not ashamed of her own origins as a south sider. She never hid the fact and when she asked she would talk of the struggle openly but Shannon got out and she got out alive. She knew just how hard it could be and how dangerous the so-called curse affected people on that side of the tracks.
“I’ll see you next week, Miss James.”
“Yeah,” Emotionally unconnected to the woman in the room, nothing held Penelope back. Bonds weren’t made in a forced setting and the young girl made it clear she had her guard up with Shannon, even after a year. As she went to the door, without turning back, shifting her face mask back on her face, she whispered dismissively, “Sure.”
And with that, the youngest James was gone, with better things to do.
