Her name was Eliza Tartt, but the crew just called her The Puppet Master.
She had brown, frizzy hair and large, thick round glasses. She stayed away from most of the cast and crew interaction, except to ask specific questions in regards to what they wanted from their puppets, otherwise she simply stayed in what the others referred to as "The Hole". It was her own private work station, far removed from the rest of the work stations, where she simply created puppets day in, day out, for the show. Once the series ended, except for Liam and Bea, everyone else stayed in contact with one another, except for The Puppet Master. Nobody heard from her again. Which is why, when Beatrice showed up at her home, she was stunned. Even though it'd been so long, she looked exactly the same, almost as if she were somehow frozen in time. Same buck front teeth, same frizzy hair, just now wearing loose fitting clothes since she wasn't working in a studio. Eliza hadn't answered the door, however, that had been her father. "Would you like to come inside? She'll be down in a minute," he said, leading Bea inside and towards the kitchen, where he offered her a cup of coffee, which she happily accepted as she seated herself at the kitchen table. "You have a lovely home," Bea said as he filled up her mug and handed it to her, watching as she sipped it cautiously. "Thank you! I've always enjoyed decorating," Don said, "My wife was an interior decorate for a long time before she retired, and she often employed my help," he added, chuckling. Just then, Eliza stepped in the doorframe that opened into the kitchen, and that was when Bea was struck by her immortal appearance. "Hiya," Bea said, waving slowly, as Eliza stood, braiding some of her hair, her eyes looking everywhere else besides at Beatrice. "I'll leave you ladies to discuss business, and please, have as much coffee as you want," Don said, leaving with his own mug. "Do you wanna sit down?" Bea asked, "This could take a while." "Could it?" Eliza asked, her speech fast and shaky, "Okay. I'll sit." "You look great," Beatrice said. "Do I? Do people change the way they look? I just always assumed people look the same forever, but then again I can't tell one persons face from another, so. You look the same. Just...older, sorry, that's rude. You should never tell a woman she looks old." "No," Beatrice laughed, "No, I appreciate it. Wiser is better than naive. How've things been?" "They've been," Eliza said, still refusing to look at her, "Um...why are you talking to me?" "I've been given an incredible opportunity," Beatrice said, "and I want you to come with me. We're bringing the show back, and this time it's my creative control. No outside advertising, no blatant pandering. Now is the time for creator owned content to shine. Liam and I got a deal at a streaming network for a new batch of episodes, and I can't imagine doing this without my shining star." "...you haven't talked to me in forever," Eliza muttered, "did I do something wrong?" This question punched Beatrice in the gut. "No, god no, I...Eliza, after what happened I just...vanished. I couldn't deal with anyone. I'm sorry I didn't stay in contact with you, but it wasn't like I forgot about you. Whenever people might find me, and if they were in the market for making their own things, I always directed them to you because I knew your work was so good. I don't know how much work that actually wound up netting you, but-" "I don't make puppets anymore," Eliza said. "Eliza-" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to go," she said, getting up suddenly and running back up the staircase to her bedroom. As Bea sat and watched in stunned silence, Don re-entered the kitchen, sipping from his mug and eating a shortbread cookie, one of which he offered to Bea, and she graciously accepted. "What the fuck happened to her?" Bea asked softly, "I mean, she was always eccentric, that was why I liked her, but...what happened to her?" "...I guess things stopped being alright when her mom died," Don said. "I get that loss has an irreversible effect on people at times, lord knows I myself have experienced that first hand, but...but how could it-" "Because she thinks she killed her, Bea," Don said, sighing, "She thinks she killed her mother. And no matter what I say to her, she'll never believe otherwise." Beatrice went from looking at Don to looking back up the staircase, just wishing she could know what had destroyed her star. *** "You're playing with fire," Liam said, "You do realize that?" Stephanie sighed and sat back down at her desk, twisting open the lid on her bottle of water and taking a long sip. "Yeah, I do, but we have our set contracts, and we can't just back outright of them. We have people we hire to do this sort of work." "She won't work with anyone she doesn't trust," Liam said, "and frankly, I don't think I would either at this point." Stephanie, arms folded now, glanced from Liam to Michelle, seated beside him. "What about you? You know her too, what do you think? Could I sell her on this idea?" Stephanie asked. "I...I don't think it's a good idea. She already vanished for almost 20 years just thanks to another studio hurting her and trying to make her work into something it wasn't, and here she thinks she's safe, because you've told her as much. I think you need to honor that. She can't be hurt again, she can't..." Michelle said, sighing before saying, "...she can't lose Beatrice again." "How about this? How about half and half? She gets to hire the most important folks. The costume designer, prop maker, stuff like that. We choose the more film ground crew; editors, sound designers, stuff like that. That sound like a fair mix? This isn't us trying to hurt her, for what it's worth-" "We understand that," Liam said. "-it's about us having to honor pre-existing contracts we have with our workers," Stephanie said, "we're already doing a risky thing bringing back a kids show basically nobody ever heard of. In this day and age, when nostalgia sells like nothing else, to back something unheard of instead of a well known IP is kind of a shaky move, but we believe enough in the product and in your guys efforts to warrant the decision. That being said, Bea does not have the same clout as other successful saturday morning kids shows from the 90s." "Fair, and totally right," Liam said, "Alright, I'll talk to her about it, but she might not be happy." "We wanna keep her happy," Stephanie said, "But we also are legally obligated to keep everyone we work with happy, so." After the meeting ended, Liam and Michelle were heading down the hall and towards the parking lot, when Liam stopped and pumped a dollar bill into a vending machine for a snack pack of chips. Michelle took a puff from her inhaler and exhaled deeply. "This is beginning to feel like a mistake," Michelle said softly. "I'm annoyed too, but this is business, this is what it is. It isn't all about making dreams come true," Liam said, popping open the bag and eating a few chips as they continued walking, adding as he chewed, "and besides, I think what she offered was a fair enough deal; so long as Bea gets to pick the most crucial people, I think she'll continue to feel safe." "The thing I've learned in the past year, Liam, is that...the people you think are the most crucial are rarely the ones that actually are," Michelle said. *** "Eliza's always had...I don't wanna say 'problems', but, she's always been different," Don said, "When she was a little girl, she fell off a piece of playground equipment and hurt herself on the way down, hitting her head on a big piece of metal. As a result, she's...she's never really been the same. Not that she was exactly 'normal' before that. She was diagnosed with ADHD and a slew of other things but...that fall really did more than anything else did." "I never knew about this." "She doesn't talk about it, she's not embarrassed but...she doesn't think others should have to know," Don said, "and for the most part, I think she's right. Her mother took her to weekly therapy sessions for physical and mental therapy, because Eliza never learned to drive. One day they were on their way home after a particularly stressful session, and Eliza was just inconsolable about her lack of progress or what she perceived as lack of progress." "I don't like where this is going," Bea mumbled. "We've all heard the same story a million times, because it happens so often. It's a cliche for a reason, because it continues to occur. Rainy roads, loss of control, an accident, and eventually a death. My wife was my best friend, but losing her hurt Eliza more than it hurt me, and even I can openly acknowledge that. After that she stopped working on puppets entirely, and now she doesn't do much except play with her model trains." "...I just always thought she was weird, in a good way, not...I don't know." "Damaged?" "I don't think damaged is the right word, because that insinuates there's something wrong with her, and there's not, she's just different," Beatrice said, making Don smile wide. "You really are good at boosting a kids self esteem," he said, making Bea chuckle. "I should get going," Bea said, "If she changes her mind, please let me know." "Will do." Bea got up, pulled her coat back on, threw her scarf around her neck and headed out the front door, Don leaning in the doorframe as he watched her descend down his porch. After a moment, she stopped and turned back to face him. "You know," Bea said, "When we were in studio back in the day, I sectioned off an area specifically for her to work in, called The Hole. Nobody else ever went there, and she had the entire place to herself, far removed from everyone else. I just assumed she was a weird hermit, a sort of creative savant, and I respected her for that. I haven't lost that respect upon learning this, but...it makes a lot of things a lot more clear in regards to her behavior. I guess I felt protective of her, because I felt like I could relate to her. Just two weird girls making weird shit. I hope she comes around. You have my number." "I do," Don said, smiling, "And thanks for everything you've done." With that, he shut the door, watching Beatrice get into her car and drive away. After he saw her car turn the corner, he headed up the stairs and opened the door to Eliza's bedroom; it was filled with puppets she'd made over the years, and of course, model train tracks and small towns made of miniatures. She didn't even look up from him as he sat on her bed, and instead she continued to paint a small tree she was planning on inserting on a hillside. "I know that might have been stressful, and I apologize for that," Don said, "Um...are you okay?" "Okay," Eliza said flatly. "There's something I think you should know," Don said, "...Bea paid for everything after the show ended. She continually sent money to help you stay afloat. Most of your therapy was paid for by her, even if she didn't know that was what the money was being spent on. Now I'm not saying this so you'll feel guilty and work for her again, but I want you to know that, yes, the world is cruel a lot of the time, especially to vulnerable people like you...but there's also those elite few who really do care, Eliza. Beatrice loves you. She loves your work. Just like you mom and I do." Eliza stopped and looked at her dad. "...I don't know that I know how to make," Eliza said, stuttering, "I...I'm scared I won't be good anymore. What if she isn't happy with me? Most people aren't happy with me." "She came to get you specifically because she believes in your work," Don said, smiling, adding, "You're just as capable as you ever were. She told me she's best friends with a young woman who has breathing problems and often uses oxygen tanks. She works with people the rest of society considers broken because she sees that just because they have cracks doesn't mean they're broken. It means they're strong. To be that supposedly damaged and still going? That's power to her. Whatever you wanna do is fine by me, but I...I just don't want to see you give up a chance to do something great because you don't believe you're capable of it, when I know fully well you are more than capable of it." Don stood up, kissed his daughter on the head and left the room. Eliza looked around the room at all the puppets, sighing, still braiding her hair as she usually did when nervous. What would mom do? *** Beatrice was sitting in her apartment that evening, eating a sandwich as she listened to old jazz records and read a big book of paintings and their meanings. She'd always looked art books. She always found things in these deep dives to apply to her own work ethic, and she appreciated that. As she chewed, there was a knock on her door, and she stood up. It was probably Michelle, as she had said she'd stop by to discuss the meeting with Stephanie, but when Bea finally opened the door, she was surprised to find Eliza standing there. "Oh!" Bea said, taken aback, "...Hi! Do you wanna come in?" Eliza nodded, and Bea stepped aside, allowing her to enter. "I'm sorry," Eliza said, "Um, I'm afraid of disappointing you. I don't wanna disappoint you. I always wanted you to be proud of me." "I was always proud of you. You made me realize how important it was to connect with people the rest of society has thrown away and ignored. The sick, the ill, the damaged. Eliza, I don't wanna pressure you into this job, I just-" "I wanna do it," Eliza said, "but, I'm not...mmm..." She paced before sitting on the couch, leaving Bea standing and staring at her. "Can I tell you a story?" Bea asked, and Eliza nodded as Bea finally sat down beside her; she continued, "a little over a year and a half ago, I met a young woman named Michelle. At first, I considered her to just be another overly enthusiastic fan, but...I quickly saw the value of what she saw value in, and I saw that because I saw that same enthusiasm in you and what you do. Michelle remade the set to the show in her basement. That level of commitment...I'd only ever seen it from one other person, and that person was you, Eliza. You won't be alone. Michelle will really like you, just like I do, and Liam does." "...dad told me you paid for everything," she said. "I did. I knew whatever the money from the network would be wouldn't be much, and I...I just felt like you deserved to be more well taken care of. Your passion for what you do reminded me so much of myself, so yeah, I sent monthly checks to your family. I didn't know until today that they were likely paying for medical expenses and whatnot, but..." She paused and sighed. "...it doesn't matter what they were used for. The point is the money was for you, and it went to helping you. I would do anything for the people who matter to me. Michelle knows this too. Vulnerable, different women in society are so often taken advantage of, and if all my work in life has been for nothing else than to show that they deserve better, than that's been worth the effort alone. Sure, a dog is mans best friend, but Beatrice Beagle is womens best friend." Eliza smiled, and threw her arms around Bea, squeezing her tightly. "I missed you," she whispered, crying against her shoulder. Bea stroked her back and sighed. "I missed you too, sweetheart," Bea said, "I'm sorry I wasn't more involved. I promise, I won't ever leave you again. I'm nothing if not loyal." *** Michelle and Liam were standing in the parking lot of the streaming studio, eating breakfast together, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Liam bit into a breakfast biscuit from a nearby fast food place and moaned deeply. "You don't have to sound like you're having sex with it," Michelle said, making him almost choke from laughing. "I just really enjoy it! I never eat garbage like this, so it's nice sometimes to remind myself how bad it is for me while enjoying how good it tastes," Liam said. Suddenly a car pulled up and parked. The door opened and Eliza stepped out, her hair fully done up in braids. She was wearing overalls and big clunky shoes. Beatrice got out of the drivers side and walked around between Eliza and the other two. "Eliza, this is Michelle, and you remember Liam," she said. "It's nice to meet you," Eliza said, holding out her hand so Michelle could shake it, which she happily did. "You too, I like your braids!" "Beatrice did them this morning," Eliza said, giggling, before glancing at Liam and adding, "It's nice to see you again." "It's great to see you Eliza." "So, let's get to work guys, we got a show to write," Bea said, clapping her hands together as she lead the group inside the studio, all cracking jokes together on the way in, knowing this would be a wonderful work environment. *** "This is it," Bea said, opening the door to area, "The Hole." Eliza, young and bright eyed, walked inside, carrying some of her equipment. "It's big!" she said. "It is big, yes," Beatrice said, "This is your space, and nobody else's. Feel free to decorate it, and just generally do whatever the hell you want. Passion projects? Go for it. Just be sure to get your work for the show done too." "Absolutely!" Eliza said, her buck teeth lisping her speech a little, "Thank you Beatrice!" Bea smiled and left the room, leaving Eliza to make The Hole her own little home, and she did. She made it her own space, and she loved it. Years later, upon tearing it all down, it felt like she was breaking herself down as well, and she never really recovered from that. The last time she saw The Hole was the saddest moment of her life, and she cried for days. She thought nothing would ever top this grief, until her mother died, and she realized the difference between creation and loss. One you chose, and one you didn't. And after her discussion with her father and Bea, she knew which was the one she wanted to fight for.
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"I have to admit, this is sort of exciting, I've never been in an actual production studio before," Michelle said as she, Keagan and Beatrice walked through the back halls of the lot where the show was to be produced.
"It gets less exciting, trust me," Beatrice said, "Not to sound jaded or anything, but...once you see where the magic comes from, that same magic stops being magic. That's why a magician never reveals his secrets, because he knows the value of a mystery." "I disagree," Keagan said, "I find the creation aspect fascinating. I mean, here's an entire group of people working together to bring one idea to life. If government worked even half as well as the entertainment industry, the public would be ecstatic." Beatrice couldn't resist chuckling at this sentiment, as she did have a point. The girls approached a room with an open door and peered inside, only to see a young woman finishing makeup on an older womans face. She looked up as they entered, and she smiled. "Sorry, didn't know something was going on in here," Keagan said. "No, it's fine, come on in," the young woman said as she turned away from her client, "We're done anyway." The older woman stood up, checked herself in the mirror and thanked the younger woman before taking her leave. The three entered the room fully now as she the makeup artist wiped her forehead with a rag and exhaled loudly. "They workin' you hard?" Keagan asked, arms folded, smirking. "No," the makeup artist responded, laughing, "no, the air conditioner has been broken in this back area for weeks. You'd think that a streaming service could put up money into this part of their business, but apparently not. It's fine, I have my desk fan. Just can't have it on while doing someones makeup cause it blows everything around." She clicked the desk fan on, then sat in her makeup chair and looked at the women again. "Are we going to be working together?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm the only one who's going to be on camera, and even then I'll be wearing a mask, so likely not," Beatrice said, holding her hand out to be shaken, "I'm Beatrice." "Clara," the makeup artist responded, shaking her hand firmly, "Well, someone in your cast is going to be utilizing me, so just send them my way when you know who." Just then the little beeper on her hip sounded, and she groaned, excusing herself into a smaller, separate room from them. The women stood there momentarily, until they realized she wouldn't be coming back, and then turned to leave. As they crowded back into the hall, Beatrice shook her head. "I've been out of the business for so long, and it hasn't changed at all. Sad," she whispered. *** Liam was sitting in a booth at a diner near the production studio lot when he heard the bell over the door ring, and quickly found Beatrice sliding in across the table from him. He sighed, put down his fork and looked at her as she skimmed through the menu. "I take it it didn't go well," he said. "Actually it went fine. The girls were far more enamored than I was, obviously, but nobody was rude or demanding or anything. We just took in the studio site, all that, and we gave the photos of Michelle's basement to the set designer, considering her mockup was the best photographic evidence we have of the set we used to own." "They couldn't just use the tapes for that?" "Please. Don't get me wrong, Keagan did a wonderful job cleaning them up, but the image quality is still so old that it wouldn't work," Beatrice said, "You are reprising your role, right? I wouldn't be doing this without you by my side." "Yeah," Liam replied, smiling a little at her insistence, "Yeah I'm reprising my role, don't worry." "Good. They want us to do 20 shows this year, each airing a week apart. Sounds brutal, but really it's the same as the old schedule." "A week apart? Isn't the whole point of streaming to drop giant batches of content at once?" Liam asked, scratching his head. "Yes, but that doesn't work with childrens programming. Children have school, homework, social duties. I don't want to overload them with things they won't have the time to watch, and then feel bad if they aren't as up to date as their friends are. That's why I fought for the weekly drop. I want it to be something special, something that feels like it happens only once a week and only for them." Liam smiled. He'd forgotten just how endearing Beatrice could be. Sure, she'd done nice things like this on the previous show; birthday shoutouts and the like, but she was always genuinely nurturing little children in many ways they couldn't even comprehend, and he found that extremely kind. He was starting to feel grateful to work with her again. "You have the puppet, right?" she asked. "Yep," Liam said, "In my apartment, fit as a fiddle." "Good," Bea said, sighing as she set down her menu and looked around, "...you know, if you'd told me when the original show ended that we'd be doing it all over again, I would've not only laughed at you but I might've beaten you to death too." "Understandable." "But the more I think about it, the more I wonder how lucky we really are. I mean, how many people are lucky enough to get to do what they want once, let alone twice? How many people make something that touches that many people that they want it to come back? That's...I don't know. I guess I feel special that Beatrice touched that many lives." "You should," Liam said, itching his mustache, "I mean, you're going to be the bright light for a whole new generation of kids, and that's....that's simply not a thing everyone gets to do. To help mold a child, even if only through a TV show? That's a unique attribute that only a few people, and dogs, have." "Though I gotta tell ya, I don't really enjoy the idea of being inside that wretched costume for hours on end again. Don't get me wrong, I love Bea, but that thing is brutal to be inside of." "Yeah well, we all suffer for our art," Liam said with a chuckle, making her laugh. *** "I hate the idea of working with others," Keagan said as she put her laundry away into the closet. Lexi, pulling her earrings from her ear and setting them on the vanity table before brushing through her long golden hair, simply nodded in response to this. When Keagan went off on something, she knew it was best to just let her blow off the steam as much as she could without interrupting or countering. "I mean, I don't mind working with Michelle, because that's a real friendship, but...I don't know. These other people, like the makeup artist...it's weird. I guess I always feel like I have to prove myself around white people more than anyone else. Like...like if I don't, then they'll just immediately associate me with all the racial biases they already have or something." "Well," Lexi said, turning on her stool, setting her hairbrush in her hands, "You didn't have to prove anything to Michelle, and you certainly didn't have to prove anything to me." Keagan blushed. She knew Lexi was right. Both she and Michelle had liked her right from the offset, but still...she couldn't help but feel nervous going to work in a predominantly white studio. She'd always hated being the 'token black girl' no matter where she was, but especially at work, where she felt she had to show her worth far more than any white folks had to, as if to say she was worthy of being there whether her skin color was different or not. "I'm just nervous, I guess," Keagan said, sitting on the end of the bed, "...like, all my life I wanted to work in media of some kind, and when I found out about lost media, I got so excited because here was a field that there was a lot of room for success in. I wanna be of help to Bea, and Michelle, but I just don't know that I know enough about actual media to really justify whatever credit it is they decide to stick me with. And with the makeup artist...it feels like I'm always wearing makeup, no matter what I'm doing or where I am. I'm always pretending to be someone else. Someone society will respect. I guess I understand why Bea hid behind a mask, because whether you're black or a woman - or in my case both - society is going to judge you doubly hard. But at least under piles of makeup, or behind a mask, it makes their judgement a bit tougher to make." Lexi, using her toes, pulled her stool towards the bed and ran her hands into Keagan's bushy hair, smiling as she leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Your skin color is your personhood, not a tool to be used for the debating of your skills," Lexi said, snuggling up to her, making Keagan want to cry. How did she get so lucky to have someone so loving in her life? Sometimes, admittedly, she missed having her solitude just like Michelle did, but a lot of times, also admittedly, she couldn't deny being so thankful to have such caring people around her all the time. This was one of those times. *** Michelle scooted another set of hangers further down the rack, pulled a few back, then sighed and kept looking. Delores stood off to the side, sitting on a small bench, as she watched. After a little bit, Michelle stopped and turned towards her, looking dejected. "I don't know what looks good on me," she said. "Well, kiddo, nobody does except models," Delores said, "but if you pick something that isn't perfectly fitted, we can always have it tailored more to your measurements. Unless you feel uncomfortable in form fitting clothing, I don't know." "Are suits supposed to be form fitting?" "Everything is supposed to be form fitting on a woman," Delores said, sounding annoyed which made Michelle laugh; Delores chuckled a little and continued, "but yes, they're supposed to, generally, accentuate your best features. Same with dresses. Even for men, suits are meant to make them look good. But are you sure you even really need a suit for a job like this?" "I wanna be professional," Michelle said, seating herself on the bench beside Delores, tucking some of her hair back behind her ear, "...I've never gotten the chance to be professional, and I want to make Beatrice proud." "I think you've already done that," Delores said, rubbing her back gently, "after all, you got her show back on the air after how many years?" "Yeah, but...I want her to see that I'm more than just some media obsessed weirdo," Michelle said. "Why? That's obviously what she likes about you," Delores said, "Why rock the boat?" "I...I don't know. I guess cause I could never prove it to my mom," Michelle said quietly and Delores exhaled deeply, straightening up and adjusting her sleeves. "You know, when I was your age, I wanted to prove to my mother that I was professional too. I so badly wanted to show her that I could handle life in the work force, so I volunteered everywhere I could. I saved up my money, I bought myself some cheap second hand suits from thrift stores, and I volunteered anywhere that would have me. I did gofer jobs mostly, but it didn't really matter what the job was exactly, I was determined to show her that I could handle it because she thought I couldn't." "Why'd she think you couldn't?" Michelle asked, and Delores sighed, shaking her head, her curly brown hair bobbing as she did so. "Never really knew why, she'd never tell me and I rarely asked. I guess some parents just don't have very high opinions of their own children," she said, shrugging, "but I soon realized the one I was proving right was myself, not her, and that was far more valuable honestly. I proved that I didn't need her approval, because my approval of a job well done was worth far more." Michelle smiled at this story as she looked at her shoes. "I guess my mom thinks because I'm sick that I'm just not capable of doing much," she muttered, "is that what the whole world thinks of sick people? Why do people like myself have to prove our worth to a world that doesn't respect us to begin with?" "You're a disabled woman," Delores said, "you're still capable of doing anything anyone else is, but so many are going to not see that or agree with it. Trust me though, kiddo, in the end, the only one worth proving anything to is yourself. Do things for you, not for them." "...I like the color grey, I think I'll get a grey suit," Michelle said, standing back up and heading back to the rack; she glanced over her shoulder and smiled, adding "thanks for coming with me to do this, Delores." "Anytime," Delores replied. *** Women, especially women who don't fit into the general "normative" culture as society sees it, often have to fight harder to be seen, recognized and even respected. Women like Beatrice, who share too much of themselves too easily, or women like Keagan, whose only real difference was something beyond her control, or women like Michelle, who just had trouble breathing a little more than most women do. None of these women had anything wrong with them. They were simply different, and it was those very differences that made them equal, not better. This was something that Clara, as she was coming into her small apartment late that night, was coming to realize. She'd fought so hard her whole life to not judge, and to not feel superior to others, and the only way she could find herself feeling less superior was to ruin herself so she could have something to point to to say "look, I'm worse than you, see!" As she unplugged the cork from the bottle of wine and sat on her couch, pulling the little baggie from her coat pocket and putting the coke into lines on the coffee table, she realized how ridiculous it was. Self sabotage only because society hadn't given her something to hate about herself. It saw her as a heteronormative, cisgendered woman - which she was - with no real ailments of any kind, so instead she created some of her own, simply so she could claim she wasn't as "perfect" as society seemed to claim she was. Lying back into the couch after doing two bumps, she sipped her wine and exhaled. "We all wear makeup," she'd told a friend in the business one day, "just that some of us wear it all the time." "You...you're offering me how much?" Beatrice asked, sitting beside Liam and Michelle in Stephanie Mirk's office.
Stephanie smiled sweetly and cupped her hands together on her desk as she leaned forward, her voice buttery yet professional. "It'd be exclusive only to our service. We pride ourselves on making content specifically for children, and family, and after the viral success your tapes had, we can see there's a market for such a show. We're prepared to offer you a million an episode, and full creative control so long as you don't include any adult material or offensive content." Bea looked at Liam, who shrugged and smirked. Bea nodded, then looked back at Stephanie as she exhaled. "We have a deal, but only if you include my friend here," Bea said, putting her hand on Michelle's shoulder, adding, "After all, I wouldn't have viral success without her efforts. If she isn't included, then I walk." Stephanie chewed her lip for a moment, then reached across the table and held out her hand. "Deal," she said, as Bea shook it, adding, "And Michelle, welcome to show business." *** 3 WEEKS EARLIER "You do know your calendar is out of date, right? It's from 4 years ago," Bea said, knocking on it with her knuckles as she turned to see Michelle adjusting the knob on her oxygen tank before plugging the cannula into her nose. Michelle nodded as she seated herself back on her bed. "I like the pictures," she said, making Bea smile. "You're like a child, it's cute," Bea said, taking a seat in Michelle's desk chair across from the bed; she exhaled and looked at her, asking, "You sure you're doing okay? You don't need any help? You know you can ask me for anything." "I'm okay," Michelle said, "I've had a hard time adjusting to living with people, admittedly, but it's somewhat easier seeing as they're friends of mine and not strangers. Still, I miss my solitude...and my basement." "I'm sorry," Bea said quietly, "I know how that feels." Bea had spent so long missing the set, that she knew how deeply it must hurt Michelle to miss the set she'd recreated in her basement. Somehow bother women had fallen in love with the same imaginary place built in two entirely different areas. Bea shook her head, then remembered and clapped her hands together. "I forgot to tell you, I got a phone call the other day!" she said happily. "Did you not own a phone before, or?" "No," Bea said, laughing, "No, I mean someone from a streaming service called me and said that they wanted to meet with Liam and I about the show. They said they'd seen the viral success of the episodes you and Keagan had recut, cleaned up and uploaded to the site and they wanted to talk to us about doing something together." "That's awesome," Michelle said. "And I want you to come with me," Bea said, surprising her. "You want what now?" *** Liam couldn't believe his ears. Standing in his apartment as he watered his plants, he mulled over what Beatrice and Michelle had just told him. He finally put his small brown watering can back down on a bookshelf and, using his cane, turned towards the women. "Are you telling me you're actually considering going back to the business?" Liam asked, "Because I find that hard to believe after what happened. I find it even harder to believe that you want me to be a part of it, considering what happened." "Yeah, well, I'm trying to be a more forgiving person these days," Bea said, shrugging as she leaned against the armchair and watched Liam waddle his way back towards his kitchen to make some more coffee. "And you want her to come with us?" he asked, pointing at Michelle with his cane as he filled the pot with water from the sink. "Yes," Bea said, "If it weren't for her and Keagans efforts, I'd still be a hermit and you'd likely be dead, so, I think we owe quite a bit to them. I want Michelle to be considered a co-creator and Keagan a consultant or executive producer." "But neither one has any experience in the industry." "Exactly, they aren't tainted by its ills." Liam smirked. Bea always knew just what to say to counteract his points. He sighed as he waited for his coffee to brew, and looked at the two women in his apartment. He knew he didn't have a choice. Instead he just sighed and nodded. "Then I guess we're doing this. I'll have to dig out some of my nicer clothes," Liam said. *** Keagan was upset, but she didn't want to say it. As she watched Lexi cut a sandwich into pieces, Keagan wanted so badly to just stand upright from the table she was seated at and shout that she was angry, but her reasoning for being angry was so stupid, she thought, that she couldn't fathom actually doing such a thing. Lexi turned from the counter and brought the finger sandwiches back to the table, setting them down in the middle before bringing them each a glass of carrot juice to go with it. "I think I eat a lot healthier with you around, that's for sure," Keagan said, "Doesn't help that I'm too broke to pay for fast food though." "It's good to eat well. Gives you more energy," Lexi said, seating herself and taking a sandwich, "besides," she added, "I like cooking. I always wanted to maybe be a chef of some kind of something. It was a hobby I always really enjoyed, and I especially like it when others appreciate what I've made." "Well, I certainly appreciate you making food, because I suck at it," Keagan said, "I could burn water." Lexi laughed loudly as she popped her sandwich into her mouth and chewed. Keagan liked making her laugh, that she couldn't deny. As she watched Lexi lift up the newspaper and read, Keagan started to feel a bit better. She had to admit, domesticity was nice, and certainly far better than the loneliness she had experienced beforehand. Lexi also would agree; no longer living with her mother and sister, she was thrilled to be living with someone she felt truly enjoyed her company. "I think...I have to say-" Keagan started, but Michelle walked in through the side door of the kitchen, smiling at them. "I've had an interesting day," she said, putting her canister and cannula in the corner before looking at Keagan and saying with a grin, "How'd you like to work in television?" *** Sitting in the pizzeria after the meeting, Bea, Michelle, Liam and Keagan were enjoying a pizza pie and soda. Laughing and eating, it was like having a real family, Michelle thought. Liam sipped his soda and smacked his lips, exhaling. "God, I'm so glad I stopped drinking," Liam said, "I mean, sure, it makes eating out kind of bland, but I recognize it's better for my health." "So what is it like, working in show business?" Michelle asked. "Well, you'll both get regular paychecks, for starters," Bea said, "Much higher than whatever you're making now is, I guarantee that much. Plus, Michelle, health insurance. That alone should cut your living costs drastically, not to mention make you even less reliant on your mother for financial support." Michelle's lip quivered, she wanted to cry, but she held it back and waited for Bea to finish. "And Keagan, this will help get your foot in the door to do more work on this type. I know you've always been fascinated by lost media and whatnot, and this could easily get you access to vaults worth of forgotten content to discover." "That sounds amazing," Keagan said. "Who knows, if things go well enough, perhaps you'll even be given the chance to do your own show all about lost media," Bea said, "Lord knows upping the intelligence of the public in regards to the arts is certainly a worthy and valiant effort." "I'm scared I won't know what to do," Michelle said, finishing her slice and wiping her mouth on her napkin. "Just stick with Liam and I and we'll navigate you through all of this, okay?" Bea asked, rubbing her back and smiling, "Don't worry, we won't let you get lost in the shuffle. You're the heart of this thing. If people see you're passionate about something, it gives them the illusion that it matters, and they become passionate too. You're passionate about the show. About the dog. Others have been proven to follow that lead already." Michelle nodded and smiled. She loved Bea so deeply, but she was also afraid to attach herself to something so iconic, of getting too close and witnessing the evils it could produce. After all, if things had gone wrong once... ...who's to say they couldn't go wrong again? *** Sitting in her hospital bed as a little girl, staring up at the TV screen and watching Bea sing a song, Michelle had forgotten all about the fact that her mother hadn't come to see her in days. Secretly she wished Beatrice Beagle could be her mother, and when she napped, she often had dreams about such a thing. Being with Beatrice, even just on the television, made Michelle feel as though she were cared for after all, and that she should get better because Bea would be proud of her for doing so. When she came home, she continued to watch the show every day. Sitting on the floor in front of the television in their living room, often while her parents yelled at one another in their bedroom at the back of the house, Michelle was capable of tuning all the negativity out and focusing instead of this dog who told her that she was important, and she did matter. Only when Beatrice went away did Michelle start to have problems believing such things, but only from time to time. Deep down she internalized the things Bea had taught her on the show, and felt she deserved better. Felt she deserved more. When she finally moved out - albeit into a home rented by her mother - she thought "Wow, if only Beatrice Beagle could see me now!" Sometimes all we need in life is one person, imaginary or otherwise, to help us help ourselves. *** "I can't believe you're doing this," Lawrence said, sitting in his office chair as Stephanie made herself a drink and then came and sat beside him; he stirred the ice in his cup and shook his head, chuckling, "Like, you realize often internet numbers don't match up with traditional media, right? Sure, people clamor online for something, and sometimes they even get something to come back in a reboot or an uncancellation, but rarely do those very same people follow through on the promise of actually supporting it once it's back on air." "I know, but I think this is different. This is something children can connect with," Stephanie said, "Children are online more than adults, especially younger children. Parents don't wanna take care of their kids, they use devices to do the babysitting for them, and the tablet is the television. Everyday I see articles about how much screentime kids spend on sites like Youtube, just watching, aimlessly, for hours, in a trance. I think, with a built in recognition factor, we could have that very same audience. Think about it...we craft it as a forgotten icon, someone who was hurt by traditional media, someone who - like most of the young people today - was against capitalism and thus capitalism was used against her. They'll relate to that. They'll find her persistence admirable." "I think I see where you're going with this." "Right," Stephanie said, taking a sip, "so we build on that. 'Hey, we're the new way to engage in content, and we won't hurt them this time!' and people will believe it. Streaming services are said to be the new frontier, which we all know is bullshit. I mean, we have no advertisers, and our competitors pale in comparison when faced with our original output. We're the folks who say 'yeah, forget traditional television, come to us! We'll let you do whatever!' but it's a ruse, because we'll only do that for as long as it's profitable to our brand, same as anyone else, but because we can just make something and put it out there with no bullshit behind it, that entices people into thinking we're the good guys." "You're so negative towards your own work," Lawrence said, laughing as Stephanie pulled a grape off the small silver plate on his desk and ate it. She shrugged. "Listen," she said, chewing, "I grew up watching traditional television. Weekly appointment water cooler TV, okay? That's why I know streaming is no different. Does it have pros? Certainly, but its cons are just as bad as traditional television and far outweigh the few pros it has over its aged out predecessor. Once it's a success - and it will be because parents follow their childrens interests - then we start producing merchandising and once that takes off, the show is secondary to the brand." "I see how you got to be where you are today," Lawrence said, "You're smart as hell." "You don't watch a lot of TV and not come away with something," Stephanie said, the two of them raising their glasses in toast to one another; "To Beatrice Beagle," she said. "To Beatrice Beagle," Lawrence replied, and they drank. *** When Michelle and Keagan got home that evening, Michelle soon found herself alone, thanks to Lexi's insistence that she and Keagan also go out to celebrate this new job offer. Michelle didn't mind, though, she was more than happy to be home alone. Lying on her bed, looking at the glow in the dark stars she'd stuck to the ceiling, she couldn't believe what had happened. How had she gone from being just a sick child in the hospital looking to a fursuited woman for guidance to now working with that very same woman? Beatrice Beagle was going to get another chance to shine, another chance to be adored by kids all over, and Michelle was so proud to be able to say she was a big part of that chance. She smiled to herself as she pulled her blankets up to her neck and shut her eyes. Everything Bea had taught her as a kid had in fact paid off. She'd believed in herself and look at where she'd gotten. She was no longer just some poor sick kid, no, she was going to be someone in the entertainment industry, guided by the very woman whom she'd once shared an intimate hospital room with. And Beatrice, after arriving home that night, immediately pulled out the suit. She set it on the floor and looked at it. It would need some minor adjustments, a bit of maintenance, but overall it was still in tip top shape, she was proud to say. She took good care of the thing, even if it had been stored in her closet for all these years. Bea ran her hands along the head and felt the fur on the ears. God, she was going to have to spend hours in this stuffy costume yet again, but this time...this time she thought it'd be worth it. Unlike the first outing, this one was paved with good intentions, at least from her and Michelle's point of view, and she wouldn't let the same thing happen this time around that had happened to her and Liam the first time. But most importantly, she thought about Beatrice, the actual dog, and how much she wanted the world to recognize how special she was. And now maybe they would. |
About
Beatrice Beagle follows a young woman obsessed with a defunct pizzeria and kids show featuring a dog mascot. As she uncovers more about its mysterious past, she becomes sucked into the life of the woman who played the mascot, they both discover just how much they need eachother. Archives
April 2024
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