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Shawn woke up slowly, like every morning. One eye at a time. His chest felt heavy and for a moment he contemplated staying asleep. Forever. But he got up and found some pants and picked the half-eaten burrito from the previous night up off the counter for breakfast. Shawn glanced aimlessly at the mess of his apartment, wondering if today would be the day he cleaned it. No.
Stumbling into the bathroom, eyes still half-closed with sleep, he flipped on the light and beheld the man in the mirror.
Jesus. This body I'm trapped in is a fucking wreck .
Somewhere in his soul, the harshness of his appearance and the cloud over his head made him feel better. Like it was good that he was ugly and fucked up because he didn't deserve to be happy. And he wasn't. And that was alright. He slapped his cheeks a little to conjure Happy Shawn, put on his shoes, and grabbed the keys to his bike. He was supposed to meet Gus for breakfast a half hour ago.
“Hey, buddy, sorry I’m late,” Shawn said as he flounced up to his best friend. “I couldn't stop looking at my reflection. I am having an excellent hair day.” Gus pursed his lips and shook his head. “My hair has the thickness of John Stamos combined with a grizzly bear.”
“Come on, son,” Gus tisked. “I wanted a bagel, but since you made me wait a half hour, we gotta get some real food.” Shawn passed an indistinguishable frown.
“Coney fries?”
“You know it.” The pair rode together to the nearest Coney Island and got a table. As Shawn ate his fries, a pit grew in his stomach.
You already ate today, a voice in his mind reminded him. Do you like being fat? Do you like being ugly?
With every bite, he became more and more uncomfortable and just wished he could stop. Eventually, he did. “Why aren’t you eating?” Gus asked, momentarily halting the shoveling of fries into his mouth.
“I ate a burrito before I came,” he answered honestly. Gus shot his friend a disapproving look. Shawn leaned back in his seat and wished he was at home, in bed, sleeping his life away. Just as he’d decided to close his eyes‒ for only a moment, to try to better gather himself‒ his phone rang. He lept up with alarm and answered, if only to make the damn ringing stop. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Spencer, we’ve got a case for you,” Chief Vick said.
“Awesome!” Shawn cheered, startling Gus. Finally, a distraction. “We’ll be right there.”
“Shawn, we’re not going anywhere until I finish my fries,” Gus insisted, a severe expression on his face.
“Oh, come on,” Shawn growled, standing, swiping the keys to the Blueberry, and rushing out of the Coney Island.
“Dammit, Shawn!” Gus yelled, grabbing the plate that definitely did not belong to him, dropping a twenty on the table, and following his friend out. “That is a company car! You are not driving it!”
The case Chief Vick had for them was a regular Whodunit murder that Shawn solved in record time. “It was the sister,” he told them with dead certainty after only reviewing two pieces of the evidence. Some distraction this proved to be.
“Shawn, are you sure about that?” Juliet asked, eyebrows furrowed in questioning. “You’ve barely looked at this case.”
“O’hara, if the man wants to make a fool of himself, let him,” Lassiter sneered. “Maybe if screws this up we can get rid of him for good.”
Maybe we can get rid of him for good. Shawn would be lying if he said he’d never wanted the same thing.
“The spirits are pretty adamed it was the sister.” Shawn said, not breaking character.
“Adamant,” Gus corrected.
“Don’t make up words, Gus,” he scolded. His best friend clicked his tongue and turned away in frustration. “Just bring her in. If the lead falls through, you can brag about it until Christmas. In the meantime, I have a Kevin Costner movie marathon that is not going to watch itself.”
Being Happy Shawn is killing me.
“I’m sorry we’re not entertaining enough for you, Mr. Spencer,” Karen said, appearing from her office. “If you’d like, we can drum up some extra work to keep you occupied.”
I just want to go back to sleep. Let me go back to sleep.
“All due respect, Chief,” Shawn granted his part-time boss a sympathetic smile, “I have a personal matter that needs tending to. I promise it’s a good lead.”
“Alright,” Vick folded. “Lassiter, O’hara, bring the sister in. If this lead doesn't pan out, we are going to have to have a talk about how seriously you take working for my department.”
“I look forward to it, Chief.” Shawn shot Vick and Jules a charming smile before pulling Gus toward the exit. No one noticed the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
“Do you actually have a personal matter to look into?” Gus asked, doubtful.
“I have a nap to take,” Shawn informed his friend. Gus shook his head. “Drop me off at my bike.” Shawn didn't mention that there was a good chance he’d fall asleep on the road. He didn't mention that there was a good chance he’s swerve off the road on purpose.
“Fine. I have a real job to get back to, anyway.”
Shawn fell into bed without taking his shoes off. What was the point? He was more exhausted than he had ever been before and it should have scared him, but he couldn't muster up any fear. Rolling on his belly, Shawn silenced his phone and closed his eyes. Sleeping was never a problem for him. Waking up was the hard part. He hoped that nobody came looking for him and he was thankful he’d locked the door before he collapsed in case they did.
He awoke briefly a few hours later, but rolled onto his other side and went back to sleep. The next time his eyes opened, he felt the distinct need to urinate, but he couldn't get out of bed. He couldn't. The time after that, he’d been so still his sides were starting to hurt. If I go back to sleep, I won't hurt anymore. I don't want to wake up. I don't want to hurt anymore. So he closed his eyes.
Shawn was known for going off the grid from time to time, so when Juliet couldn’t get a hold of him to tell him the sister angle had been spot on, she called Gus instead. “Hey, Juliet, what’s up?” Gus was in the Blueberry, leaving a client’s office.
“I was just calling to say that Shawn was right. It was the sister.” Gus heard Lassiter growl in the background and mustered a smile.
“Why didn’t you just call Shawn?” Gus asked. She always calls Shawn.
“He wasn’t answering his phone,” she explained. “I called him a few times and left a message, but I figured you could get the message to him just as well.”
“Good call,” Gus applauded. “Shawn doesn’t check his messages.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Gus chuckled. “Anyway, if you hear from him, let him know. You two have to swing by and get your consultants’ check.” Gus hung up and drove away happy.
The next morning, Gus received a call from Henry. “Hey, have you heard from Shawn? He was supposed to come over for dinner last night.” Now that Gus thought about it, he hadn’t heard from Shawn. Not in a long time.
“No,” he said, something running up the back of his spine. He would’ve been worried about his best friend the previous night, except he got distracted by a Ralph Macchio back-to-back premiere. “But I can swing by and check on him. I’ll call you if anything’s wrong.”
“Thanks, Gus.”
As he drove to Shawn’s apartment, he became more and more concerned. Either Shawn had been kidnapped, he’d left by himself, or he just didn’t want to talk to Gus. He couldn’t be sure which was scarier. When he got there, the door was locked. Typical. He knocked. “Shawn? Shawn, are you in there?” His bike was parked out front, but that didn’t mean anything. Gus tried his best to, first, locate a spare key outside and, second, knock down the door, but both were unsuccessful. He was about ready to call it quits when he caught the right angle of the shades and glimpsed Shawn, on his bed, face down, dead still. Something about the whole situation stunk to Gus. He called Juliet.
“Gus, what’s going on?” She was sat at her desk, flipping through the file on her latest case.
“I’m at Shawn’s place and he’s inside but the door’s locked and he won’t answer for me.” Gus’s voice was panicked.
Shawn had a history of depression. Gus wasn’t oblivious to this. The man had a mental imbalance that had made it hard for him to function in his youth. But he was better now. He’d done some soul searching across the country and come back to Santa Barba a better man. He would never do anything to hurt himself.
Right?
“Do you think he’s hurt?” Jules asked, pushing herself slowly away from the desk.
“I can’t be sure, but I have a bad feeling about this.” Juliet thought for a moment.
“I’ll be right there.”
Five, agonizing minutes later, O’hara was at the door to Shawn’s apartment with Gus. After doing a quick review of the situation herself, she turned her back to the entryway and kicked in the door. Instantly, their senses were assaulted. The place reeked of piss and the air was suffocatingly stale. The pair rushed to Shawn and were relieved to find a pulse. Gus tried to shake him awake, but his eyelids only fluttered. Finally, and to the despair of Shawn, he regained consciousness.
I hate being awake. Why am I awake?
“Let me sleep,” Shawn muttered.
“Shawn, how long have you been asleep?” It would’ve been forever if you’d let me be. “Did you take any pills? Shawn?” Guster shook his best friend, trying to make him coherent.
“Would he have taken anything?” Jules whispered, suddenly becoming aware of a darker side to Shawn. He was always so upbeat. It was always the upbeat ones. “Is he wearing the same clothes from yesterday?”
“I didn’t take anything,” Shawn managed to say. “Just let me sleep.” His words were slurred but Gus understood them.
“Have you been asleep since I dropped you off yesterday?” Shawn just rolled back onto his belly.
Why won't they let me die?
The thought shocked him. Die?
Something changed in Shawn. He hadn’t even thought the word before that moment but it was true‒ he wanted to die. This whole orchestration was a lazy attempt at suicide. He had hoped that he could fall asleep and never wake up again and no one would go looking for him. Except they did. But acknowledging the fact that he wanted to die and was willing to take measures to achieve the goal scared him.
At last, he felt afraid.
“Come on, get up.” Gus and Juliet put their arms under their friend and helped him get out of bed. He’d been asleep so long that his legs didn’t move quite right anymore. “We got you. Don’t worry.” Gus lead Shawn into the bathroom, thinking a shower would help him wake up. Shawn, unable to stand long on his own, required the aid of Gus to clean himself. Under normal circumstances, Gus would have objected profusely, but the circumstances were far from normal. Gus was just glad Shawn could form more than four-word sentences again.
While the boys were in the bathroom, Juliet decided to clean up the apartment; a task no one should take lightly. First, she opened the windows to let fresh air in and then peeled the sheets off the bed to be washed. Juliet went around picking up garbage, gathering dishes, and throwing clothes in laundry baskets until she was content with the status of the home. When she finished, she found pineapple scented candles under the kitchen sink and obliged herself to light them.
In the shower, Shawn imagined all of his sadness and anger was washing away down the drain. And then he remembered that clouds absorb water.
In spite of his depressing revelations, Shawn did feel better after taking a shower. Even if having Gus wash his hair was embarrassing. He didn’t feel awesome, but it was nice to wash the wasted day off of him. Gus didn’t speak except to ask about the water temperature and how much shampoo was enough. When he emerged from the bathroom to get dressed, he was amazed to find the place almost shining with cleanliness and a pleasant pineapple aroma replacing the putridity. Gus picked out his clothes. Shawn dressed slowly, as usual, but it felt even slower with someone watching him. Gus almost spoke, but held his tongue.
What have I done? Why can’t I just be normal? Before, Shawn thought he would die of agony, but now he was sure he’d die of shame.
The childhood best friends walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where Juliet was making breakfast. Happy Shawn would have made a movie reference or a playfully sexist joke, but he didn’t have to hide behind his smiles anymore. Juliet, however, offered one up. Shawn tried to return it but his was much more dismal.
“Your lead about the sister panned out,” Jules said, breaking the silence.
“I figured.” Shawn nodded. “Congratulatory 24-hour nap, anyone?” Neither of them laughed. “Too soon,” he decided.
“What is going on, Shawn?” Gus asked, gently but firmly.
“I’m fine,” he shrugged. He knew this excuse held little water, but he thought it was worth a shot. Jules and Gus deadpanned. “Okay,” Shawn surrendered, hands in the air. “The truth is… I haven’t been doing so good lately.” Gus’s gut reaction was to correct his friend’s grammar but he had to remind himself this was neither the time nor the place.
“I could’ve guessed that, Shawn,” Juliet chided.
“Are you depressed again?” Shawn had forgotten that his best friend was aware of his previous struggle with being alive and the reminder surprised him, but his shock didn’t last long.
“Again?” Shawn mimicked, admonition in his voice. “I don’t think I ever stopped, buddy.” The part of Shawn that had previously been ashamed was now getting angry. The confrontation was running hot in his blood and suddenly he had all kinds of energy.
“How bad is it?” Gus asked.
How bad is it?
“Well,” Shawn thought, laughing maliciously, “waking up in the morning is like pulling my body out of quicksand. I can’t eat more than one meal a day or this voice in my head reminds me of the way I look. Which is shitty, in case you didn’t notice. And every time I’m in the field in a life or death situation, I have to force myself to pick life.” Their faces were stony and horrified.
I shouldn’t have said that.
“Shawn, you’re not ugly,” Juliet told him. “You’re very handsome.”
“Jules, you say that, and I know you mean it, but that doesn’t mean I believe you and it doesn’t mean I see the same thing when I look in the mirror.” They didn’t know what to say. Shawn had always been so happy and so conceited. Could it be true that it was all a ruse? “I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you guys are just trying to help but,” he paused and ran his hands over his face and through his hair, “I can’t find a way out. Believe me, I’ve been trying.”
“I’m sorry, Shawn.” Gus wanted to take his friend’s hand, but didn’t. “I’m sorry that you’ve been going under for so long and I haven’t noticed.” Tears sprung into Gus’s eyes and Shawn sighed, exasperated. It wasn’t even sympathetic crying. It was real crying.
“Gus, it’s not your job to look after me.”
“Yes, it is,” Gus insisted, face growing redder by the minute. “I’m your best friend and it’s my job to know when something’s wrong with you and to make sure that you can figure it out…” By the end of the sentence, Gus was full-on weeping. Jules, beginning to tear up herself, leaned over and patted Gus on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, although it was muffled.
“I've been hiding,” Shawn admitted, trying to get his friend to stop crying. “I've been hiding behind smiles and ego. I don't blame you for not knowing.”
Jules felt it was her fault, too, since she was a detective, but this moment wasn't about her, so she didn't mention it. Instead, she stood and slapped her thighs to call attention to herself.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” she said. As a cop, she was always a big fan of action. “I'm going to finish cooking breakfast, and, after we eat, we’ll figure out how to get you the help you need. Sound good?” Shawn nodded. He’d been to therapists before and none of them had helped him in the least, but the way Juliet was looking at him made him want to keep trying.
Breakfast consisted of three poorly cooked eggs and some stale toast, since Shawn never goes shopping. As Shawn sat at the kitchen table that had never hosted anyone other than him, he felt a little different about life.
He still wanted to die and he knew it was a long,
long
way up, but, for the first time in a long time, he had people who were willing to help him, and that made him feel optimistic. It gave him hope.