It was Michelle Helm's birthday.
A day she dreaded, quite frankly, and rarely celebrated these days. As she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, she couldn't help but not want to get out of bed today of all days, but she knew she had to call her mother. Even with that bugging her in the back of her head all morning, Michelle tried to go as long as possible to postpone the inevitable. She took a while to figure out her outfit, to make breakfast, to do her breathing exercises and much more before finally exhaling and picking up the phone to dial her number.It rang a few times before she finally heard her mother pick up the other end. "Hello?" she asked. "Mom, it's me," Michelle said. "I was wondering when I'd hear from you. It's almost 3pm you know," her mother said, and Michelle groaned internally. She knew that would be the first thing her mother said to her. Michelle rubbed her forehead with her fingers and shut her eyes tight, already annoyed. "I know," she said, "I didn't wake up until late, and took a slow start to the morning. Sorry I didn't call you back the other night, I was very tired." "That's okay," her mother said, "Can I come over and take you out for lunch?" "Okay," Michelle said, "A little late for lunch, but okay." "Well, whose fault is that?" her mother asked, laughing so it didn't come off as accusatory, a tactic she'd always used to sneakily judge Michelle without being called on her questionably behavior. After they discussed where to go to eat, the conversation ended, and Michelle mentally prepared herself for the fact that she'd soon be dealing with her mother in person, something that usually left her with a migraine, and this year, sadly, she'd discover it'd be no different. *** The door opened, and Lia - understandably - raised an eyebrow and stepped cautiously back as he looked at Beatrice standing in her regular clothes but with the dog head on her shoulders. He hesitated before smirking as she pulled the head off and held it under her arm. "That's unsettling," he said, "Do you answer the door like that all the time?" "Only for you," she said, "It's still in excellent shape." "I can see that," Liam said, as Bea stepped aside so he could, cane in one hand, hobble his way into her loft. He glanced around, taking it all in, as he'd never seen this particular living situation before and was obviously curious how she was living these days. Bea shut the door behind him and followed him into the living room. "So," he said, turning and looked back at her, "You look nice." "Thank you, I'm seeing someone later," she said, "That's actually partly why I was hoping you'd meet with me this afternoon. Would you mind helping me do something?" "You do realize I'm not in top physical condition right now, right?" Liam asked, somewhat shaking his cane at her, and she laughed. "You don't need to move anything," she said, "I hired people for that. No. I want you to do something else for me. Something very important; this cannot be done without you, in fact." This piqued Liam's interest, as he cocked his head to the side and raised a brow. "Okay..." he said, "What are we doing, Bea?" "We're giving someone a gift." *** Celia Helms, a woman who looked like she hadn't aged a day past her college self, as an "artist", and one that neither Michelle nor her father ever particularly understood. This was, honestly, a big reason why they fought a lot, to hear Celia tell it anyway, though Michelle knew she could never trust what came out of her mouth to be the absolute truth. She'd learned that the hard way unfortunately, over the years. Celia looked a lot like her daughter, except was shorter than her, and had a semi unearthly quality about her, almost like a wood elf from some fantasy novel. She dressed in a white lacey top and soft black jeans, her bangs clipped to the side behind her ear so as to keep them out of the way of her giant spectacle clad eyes as she perused the menu. "I've always wished I could've taken you to Paris," Celia lamented, "But after the hospital bills nearly wiped out our savings, not to mention the payments on tanks and miscellaneous equipment, it just was never financially viable. Sadly, you've had to make due with faux French food from the city." "Yeah," Michelle said blandly, "A real shame." "I hope this is okay," Celia said, in a tone that Michelle had come to learn meant 'I'm going to pretend to ask your permission, but I don't want you to tell me I did wrong'; she added, "After all, I chose this place because this is something I've always wanted to give you. Food from another culture." "It's fine, mom," Michelle said, her own eyes glued to the menu, trying to find something - anything - that wouldn't make her sick later as she said, "How have you been?" "Exhausted," Celia said, "You wouldn't believe the amount of work I've had to do lately. I've been trying to open a new exhibition hall, but everywhere wants too much, especially in the downtown district. Rest assured, I won't stop until I achieve my goal. You know I'm no quitter." "Lord do I know," Michelle said. Celia put her menu down, seemingly having decided on her order, and as they waited for someone to come ask what they wanted, she looked across the table at Michelle. Celia cupped her hands on the table and smiled. Michelle noticed her nails were light pink, manicured, and french tipped. She was jealous her mother got the chance to do nice things like that for herself, when she so often could barely go out for a single day without feeling winded or exhausted. "Michelle," Celia said, "I'm afraid I have to admit that I found myself struggling to figure out what to get you for your birthday until I stumbled upon something I thought you might like." With that said, Celia reached to the side of her booth seat and pulled up a box, well wrapped with ribbons, and passed it across the table to Michelle, who graciously took it, a smile on her face, never one to rock the boat when it came to her mother. She just did as she was told, because - as her father had once said - it's just easier. Michelle pulled the bow and the whole thing unraveled, then she carefully undid the tape on the sides and finally unleashed the lid from the top of the box. Staring down inside the box, lid still in her hands, she couldn't feel herself breathing. "The fuck is this?" Michelle finally blurted out. "Language! This is a nice restaurant," Celia said, sounding genuinely shocked at her own daughters supposedly 'abhorrent' vocabulary. "Mom, is this...is this a...fucking ONSIE?" Michelle asked, refusing to even touch it as she glared up from the box to her mother, "Is this a onsie for a baby?? Does this imply what I think it implies?" "Has to happen eventually," Celia said, "I was just hoping maybe I could jumpstart you into-" "How dare you," Michelle said under her breath, her ire burning a hole through her heart, "how dare you even suggest that I, someone who can barely manage to keep her own life together on a day to day basis, take care of a fucking baby." "Okay, I'm sorry, calm down, I just-" "Do you even understand how hard it is to take care of myself?" Michelle asked, "Not just disability wise, either. I'm an incredibly capable person, but no, just in general. All the little things it takes to make it through a single 24 hour period intact? And now you want me to give you grandchildren? Are you senile?!" This abrupt change in behavior surprised Celia, and she stopped talking, the look of a scolded child now dancing across her face. Michelle knew this tactic well enough; it was to make her, and any onlookers, think that Celia was in fact the victim, but Michelle knew not to fall for it and she was old enough to not give a shit what onlookers might think anymore. "God you are so incredibly selfish!" Michelle said, standing up and tugging her tank behind her, "I should've known better than to trust you to, just once, just one time in my entire life, get me a normal birthday present! I don't think, in all the years I've had a birthday, that I've ever been given something meant for me that I enjoyed. You're never going to change." Michelle stormed out, best as she could, leaving her mother to sit and stew by her lonesome, surely approached by nearby mothers who told her she was in fact in the right and that children 'just never appreciate what we do for them'. Bullshit. Michelle knew it was all bullshit, and yet...and yet she couldn't help but feel the tears stinging in her eyes as she tried to escape and ignore the pain that was breaking through her heart. Every single time she thought that maybe, finally, her mother would know her she would always be wildly disappointed and underwhelmed. It wasn't even worth trying anymore, she had to remember that. She needed to afford a place on her own, because she could no longer risk being financially independent on her mother. It just wasn't worth it. And she knew just who she could ask. *** "I like the taste of squid," Lexi said, popping a piece of butter baked and breaded Calamari in her mouth,"I know it's chewy, but I love the taste, I can't get enough of it." "It's not bad," Keagan said, "I'm glad you suggested this." "It's the best Italian place I know of, and they make the best Calamari," Lexi said, sitting on the counter of Keagan's apartment and licking the butter taste from her fingers as Keagan smile, watching her. Since their evening together, the two had been fairly inseparable, and neither one questioned it. Keagan was, if nothing else, a bit surprised, but happy to have the company and the newfound love. She picked up a piece and walked across the small kitchen and, leaning on her toes, pushed the piece to Lexi's mouth, which she happily ate. After she swallowed it, she put her hands on Keagan's face and, pulling her closer, leaned down and kissed her. As the kiss broke, and their smiles widened to a giggling fit, they heard a knock on the door. Keagan wasn't expecting guests, so she cautiously headed to the door and waited. "Who is it?" she asked, but no response. Finally she just shrugged and pulled the door open to see Michelle standing there, in the pouring rain, her hair ratty and her clothes soaked to the bone. Keagan stood there, surprised by her appearance, and unsure what to say, and just when she thought she'd found the words, Michelle surprised her yet again by simply hugging her. After Michelle had showered and was sitting in a fluffy robe on the floor by the heater, eating some of their take out, she relayed the whole situation to them, and both girls were also disgusted by Celia's behavior. "I just...I keep thinking maybe she'll finally decide to learn about me, but she refuses to do that," Michelle said, "She's like a stubborn child. It's so frustrating." "Sounds like it," Keagan said. "You know," Lexi said, crossing her legs on the couch and pushed her hair back into a messy bun, "I know how you feel. My parents are so caught up in their own drama they don't have any time to appreciate me and all the things I do for them, for myself. It's like, after a certain age they just stop learning new things about you, even obvious things, and just decide that how you were at eleven years old? That's how you'll always be." "Exactly!" Michelle said, putting her mask over her face and breathing in, "I'm so tired of dealing with her. I was kind of hoping, maybe...I could stay with you until I could save money to afford my own new place? Otherwise I'll have to put up with her shit since she pays for my rental home." "Oh, uh, yeah, I mean, okay," Keagan said, "That shouldn't be a problem. I...I don't have much room, but you could totally-" "We could all get a place together," Lexi said, surprising both of them. "What?" Keagan and Michelle both replied, in differing tones. "I mean, if we all pooled our money together, we could just afford our own place. I know I don't like living with my mom or sister, I would certainly appreciate having a quieter place to study, and Keagan you could totally try and do your web work fulltime, and you probably get disability, right?" she asked, looking at Michelle, who nodded; she continued, "Exactly. Between that, part time jobs, odds and ends sales online, we could totally make it work." "I...I don't, uh, know how viable that is," Keagan said, "I mean, you and Michelle basically don't know one another, would you even be comfortable with that?" she asked, glancing at Michelle, who merely shrugged. "Better than living under my mothers thumb," she said softly, and Keagan understood. But, and Keagan wouldn't admit this, it wasn't Michelle she was worried about. She was just surprised at quickly Lexi had jumped in to suggest the idea of living together. They'd only spent one evening together, and now suddenly the discussion of living together was coming up? And, sure, it was probably more to help Michelle out of a jam, but Keagan was unsure whether or not she was ready for this level of commitment. It frightened her, she couldn't deny. "Okay," Keagan finally said quietly, continuing to eat dinner. Lexi made the plans; the three of them would start looking the coming week, and until then Michelle could room with Keagan, she'd just have to go home and get some things first. But that could wait until the next day. Tonight? It was all about destressing, and celebrating what was left of Michelle's birthday, which she greatly appreciated. And it was funny...as soon as her mother was removed from the situation, she felt as though she could breath just a little bit easier. *** As Michelle packed her bags the following day, she couldn't help but feel lighter than she had in ages. She'd need some shirts, jeans, dresses, and of course her medical supplies, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that things were finally going to be better, and that alone made it easy to deal with. Change was usually frightening, but this change? This was glorious, unabashed joy. As she stuffed a few of her favorite books into a bag, she heard a knock at the front door and thought it was either her mother coming to harass her more, or it was Keagan, early to pick her up. Michelle stood up and, heading down the hall, heard the knock on the door again. She opened the door to her surprise...Leslie. "Oh," Michelle said, "...what are you doing here? How did you even know my address?" "You know, there's a lot of information that can be easily accessed if you just know the right people," Leslie said, "I need you to come with me. Something's come up." "What's happened?" Michelle asked. "Just get in my car," Leslie said, clearly suppressing a smirk. Michelle did as she was told, and got into the car. Leslie got into the drivers seat, pulled away and started driving down the road. Michelle looked behind them to make sure they weren't being followed or something else strange, and then, lowering her voice and chewing on her lip said, "I have to be back shortly, I'm moving in with a friend and they're coming to-" "This shouldn't take long, don't worry," Leslie said, taking a few turns. After a good twenty minutes driving, what Michelle assumed, was rather aimlessly, she began to get irritated but didn't say anything. She knew Leslie wouldn't just screw with her, she barely knew her. So Michelle kept her mouth shut, until suddenly, Leslie pulled over and pulled out a bandana and looked at Michelle. "You need to wear this," she said, and Michelle scoffed. "I do?" she asked. "You really do, trust me," Leslie said, and Michelle - against all better judgement - took the bandana and wrapped it around her eyes, tying it in the back to blind herself. She huffed, crossed her arms and felt the car lurch forward again as Leslie continued toward the still obscured destination. After another few minutes, she felt the car park again and, as she reached up to pull the bandana off, felt Leslie lightly slap her fingers. "Ow!" "Do you want to spoil the surprise?" Leslie asked, "Just open the door, I'll come around and guide you." Michelle opened the car door and waited for Leslie to take her hand, leading her out of the car and across what sounded like a parking lot full of gravel. "This is ridiculous," Michelle said, half laughing out of nervousness, "Do you work for the mob or something?" "Public television can certainly feel that way sometimes," Leslie murmured, making them both chuckle. Michelle heard a door open, and they stepped inside what felt like somewhere air conditioned. Michelle could hear the sound of electronics buzzing around her, and generic upbeat music playing over speakers. Michelle sighed and felt a hand on the back of the blindfold, tugging it off. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust, and when she had blinked a few times, the first thing she saw in front of her was a woman wearing a postal uniform and carrying a mailbag. "Uh," Michelle said, as she approached Michelle and handed her a letter. "Telegram!" she said, "You've been invited to a birthday party!" "...you're...Postal Patty," Michelle said, suddenly recognizing her from the show. "Well, kind of a mean thing to call me these days, given the level of my many medications, but yes,"Postal Patty said, "Come with me, you don't want to be late, you're the guest of honor!" So Michelle, buying into the rouse, followed Postal Patty throughout the venue, until they reached a back room, completely black, with only a singular table with red silk tablecloth over it for her to sit at. Michelle, Leslie and Postal Patty all took their seats and and waited. Michelle wanted to ask what this was all about, but she decided against it; after all, Leslie was right...why ruin the surprise? After what felt like an eternity, the stage lights blasted on, and suddenly Michelle knew exactly where she was. One of the defunct pizzerias. And on stage was a doghouse, and Beatrice, in full costume. Sitting atop the doghouse was a small potted plush cactus, with blackness surrounding them, obscuring Liam who was obviously performing as the cactus. "You know, it's been a while since we've celebrated anything, hasn't it, Liam?" Bea asked, and the cactus nodded. "It feels like it's been decades!" he said, eliciting quiet laughter from the three women watching. "But today is different, today we're celebrating! It's a birthday, did you know that? The birthday of a very important, very special young woman," Bea said, "Do you know who I'm talking about?" "My mom?" Liam asked, and Bea chuckled. "No! Our friend Michelle!" Bea said, and then, turning and walking off the stage as the room lit up more, the old animatronics now working on stage, Beatrice strolled up to Michelle and looked down at her, asking, "Today IS your birthday isn't it?" "Actually, it was yesterday," Michelle said, and Bea shook her head. "A dog never knows what day it is! After all, we think one year is seven years!" Beatrice said, making them laugh again as she added, "You just can't trust us to gauge time correctly! So, Michelle, what's the one thing you want this birthday more than anything else?" Everyone looked at Michelle, who had tears rolling down her face, and smiled. "I already have it now," she said, half laughing. "Good answer!" Beatrice said, "Friendship IS the best gift!" And so Michelle spent her birthday with the cast and crew of Beatrice Beagle - which ones they could easily track down on such short notice anyway - and played arcade games with them, and ate cake with them, and it was like, if for just a single day, she was a little girl again. A little girl who's best friend was the woman in the dog costume who didn't even know she was making a difference in her life, only now she did know, and was thrilled to have a purpose again. And after all that had happened, Michelle knew none of it would've been possible if not for the single actions of one man, one person, who couldn't be there that day, and as Michelle shoveled pizza in her mouth and laughed at Beatrice and Liam's tales from the set, she could think only one thing... "Thank you Marvin Burgis." Thus proving that even suicide isn't in vain.
0 Comments
These images that flashed before her in the dark on the small television screen were things she hadn't seen in years. Sitting there on the end of her bed, looking into this television screen - the television that had the built in VCR, the only one capable of playing these tapes anymore, lest they be forever locked away - Beatrice couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse for those days gone by. Those days with the people she'd once considered her friends and coworkers, her co-conspirators in creativity. And what should've made her feel better, only made her feel more uneasy, because now, a young woman - a young woman she didn't know except via the osmosis of the television screen from years prior - had rebuilt her shows entire set in her basement, and for some reason...this made Beatrice Burden extremely sad.
*** "I really wish you'd reconsider," Leslie said as she sat back down at her desk, handing an envelope to Bea, who was seated across from her as she continued, "we'd love to have you back. We'd give you a budget you'd be comfortable with and you would have complete creative control. Corporate sponsorship is the way of the past, gone like the dinosaurs, and even publicly funded groups like ours that provide free entertainment to the lowest of income families can manage to make productions of grandeur out of seemingly very little." "I appreciate the sentiment, you've always been extremely kind to me," Bea said, smiling as she used one of her nails to undo the envelope, "But I'm fairly comfortable in semi self imposed exile." She opened the envelope and slid out a card, which she smiled at briefly before opening it to wide eyed surprise. "Happy?" Leslie asked, smirking as she leaned back in her comfy leather desk chair, arms behind her head. "Uh...this is extremely generous," Bea said, "I...I don't know that I can accept this." "Think of it as back payment, for all the money stolen from you in years prior," Leslie said, "I'm doing my best to make things right between you and this station. Now that Nassar is no longer in charge, and we're all doing things my way, I've been doing my best to make amends between everyone he wronged. Turns out it was a lot of people." "You say that as if it's uncommon for a businessman," Bea said, making Leslie chuckle. "Well, be that as it may, I hope you like what I've tried to do for you," Leslie said, "And, like I said, if you ever want to come back, you have my number and the station would welcome you with open arms. Most people here thought you get a bad rap. You're a childhood icon, please don't forget that." Much as she'd like to, even if she wouldn't admit it, she couldn't forget it even if she tried. *** Beatrice paced her lofts living room, chewing nervously on her nails. She had been waiting for a phone call for a few weeks from an event organizer getting together people from public access kids shows, and they'd been trying to get Beatrice on the phone for ages. Eventually she realized she couldn't just ignore them, and so she promised to speak to them tonight. This organizer, her name was Diana, was attempting to make a small convention of sorts, but needless to say, Beatrice wanted nothing to do with it, and ignoring someone was considered rude so she decided she'd just politely decline. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the phone rang and Bea quickly answered it, hoping to get this awkward conversation over with as quickly as possible. "Hello?" Diana asked, "Miss Beagle?" "This is Bea," Beatrice said, "How can I help you?" "I'm so glad we finally get to talk! I've been dying to speak with you for weeks now, and you just seem so unavailable! My name is Diana Riggs, and I am-" "Miss Riggs, I don't mean to be rude, but I am not interested in whatever it is you're trying to do. I'm sure your intentions are good and that you mean well, but honestly, I just want to be left alone. I hope you understand" Beatrice said, blurting it out, not even letting her finish. When she finally spoke again, the disappointment in her voice was clear as day, even as she tried to hide it. "I...I understand," Diana said, "I just had to ask, you know how it is. Thank you for at least speaking to me." "Of course, and thank you for the invitation," Bea said. "If you change your mind you have my number, and the convention is a week from tomorrow," Diana said, "Everyone would love to see you there, we're all big admirers of you. You're such an icon." After Bea had hung up, she stood there staring at the phone, tapping her foot on the floor as she chewed on her lip. How could she be an icon, especially when compared to so many others that were still so fondly remembered? It just didn't make sense to her, and the label never really sat well. *** Why? Why was Michelle the one who had remembered it as well as she had, and why had she clung to it so desperately for so many years? It just didn't make sense. But after seeing the set remade in the basement, Beatrice couldn't help but feel grateful for her lifelong admiration, because there was one thing Michelle never called her...and that was an 'icon'. Oh sure, she'd said the character of Beatrice had been inspirational, but the word 'icon' had never left her lips, near as she could remember. But what was she honestly supposed to make of the basement set? Was it just the strange project of a strange lonely young woman with a breathing disorder? Or was there something deeper here that she was missing? Something Michelle had intended to jump out at her? Sure, she appreciated the effort to hell and back, but for some reason, other than Michelle's general love for her work, it didn't make sense to Beatrice why she'd done this. Maybe the best course of action would be to simply ask her. After all, time and time again Bea had found that had she just talked to someone things would've turned out a lot better. Communication is kind of strange like that. *** "Am I an icon?" This sudden question surprised Liam, who jumped a little and dropped his magazine on his lap in the hospital bed. He looked at Beatrice standing in the doorway, before she stepped into the room and took a seat on the chair beside the bed reserved for 'guests', of which she'd been the only one. Liam shook his head and shrugged. "A simple 'hello' would've sufficed," he said, "Maybe a 'how are you doing? any better?', but I guess not." "Hello, how are you doing? Any better? Also am I an icon?" Beatrice asked, making Liam laugh and, thusly, wheeze a little. She set her purse on her lap and watched him as he set his magazine down completely now and looked at her, cupping his hands in his lap. "Yes, but not to the kids like the other shows...Those shows are icons because the kids grow up to remember them fondly, and thus they retain some semblance of relevancy in todays world. But you're not that kind if icon, Bea...you're an icon to the people in the industry," Liam said, shifting and sitting up better, "You're an icon to the creative people who want to do their things on their terms, and damn what 'the suits' might say, or anyone for that matter." "That's...definitely an answer I didn't expect," Beatrice said, fingering her jangling charm bracelet on her wrist, "but...but what kind of legacy is that to leave?" "You goin' somewhere?" Liam asked, making her chuckle. "No," Beatrice replied, shaking her head, "Just thinking about the future. Is that really what I want to go down as? A creative person who inspired other creative people but became a self imposed hermit and burnt her only true venture to the ground for the sake of fighting back against a rabid capitalistic consumer driven culture that only demanded new content as soon as the old got boring?" "Beatrice," Liam said, grunting a bit as he struggled to sit up straight and glanced at her, "Listen to me, okay? You accomplished something that most people in the entertainment industry never do, no matter how long they work for or how much success they achieve. You created something that people, especially other creative people, really connected with, and then - as if that wasn't enough - you ended it on your own terms because you weren't happy with the outcomes. You publicly fought against the way it was viewed and mishandled, and a lot of that was my fault and I have been so sorry you have no idea, but do you know how many other creative people would kill for the kind of guts you just seem to brazenly have?" Beatrice smiled and pulled her hair back, tying it up in a messy bun as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, folding her arms. "I want you to know that I'll forgive you one of these days," she said, "And that I'm very happy you didn't die." "Which will come first? Your forgiveness or my untimely demise?" "That remains to be seen," Bea said, making them both laugh. An icon? Yes. This was something she might be able to work with after all, and she knew just the person to work on it with. *** Michelle was standing in her kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal as she stared at the calendar tacked to the fridge. She couldn't help but notice a particular day coming up, one circled in red, October 17th. A day that she hated had to happen yearly. As she groaned and chewed, she heard a knock at the front door. Michelle set her cereal bowl down and pulled her mask back on over her face, tugging her oxygen tank along behind her as she headed to answer whoever it was knocking. She pulled the front door open to reveal Beatrice, standing on her porch. This, she had to admit, was a surprise. Michelle stepped aside to let Bea enter, which she did, almost happily so. As she got into the living room, she turned quick on her heel and looked at Michelle. "Having trouble today?" she asked, motioning towards the tank. "Yeah, some days it's really bad," Michelle said, sounding out of breath. "Well, that's good because now what I have to say can't take your breath away," Beatrice said, and then after realizing Michelle wasn't laughing, shrugged and added, "Sorry, that was likely in bad taste." "What are you doing here?" Michelle asked, still somewhat starstruck by her sudden appearance. "I realized the other day that...the thing I was running from all along wasn't my shame or my fear or my anger, but was my appreciation. I was mad that people appreciated me and what I'd done because I couldn't, so I figured if I wasn't capable of it, then nobody else should be allowed to either. I know it's ridiculous and unfair, and I put myself under my own scrutiny more than anyone else ever put me under, but it's the gods honest truth. Ever since the show went off the air and the whole thing went kaput, I've been told, repeatedly, that I am an icon. I hate that label." "That must be frustrating, yeah, especially if you don't hold yourself in high esteem," Michelle said, making Bea snap her fingers and point at her. "Bingo, see, you get it. You...you seem capable of appreciating the Beagle the same way I did," Beatrice said, "...she was my best friend in the whole world, and I simply wanted to share the love and comfort that she gave me with everyone else who never got to experience it, because I didn't want them missing out on her gifts." Michelle couldn't believe this, Beatrice was spilling her guts to her. This was like a dream come true. "Then what are you doing here?" Michelle asked. "You're the only one who didn't call me an icon. I appreciate that. It made your admiration more...real, more believable. Like...like you didn't like what I had done, you liked me specifically. Aside from my parents, maybe Liam, I've rarely felt liked in the world." "I know what that feels like." "I'm sure you do, that's why we understand one another," Beatrice said, "Michelle, I want to do something for you. Something I've never thought about asking another person to do. I want to give you all my tapes, and I want you to digitize them so we can release them online for free. I want you to help me create an archive for something we both love. Will you help me?" Michelle was speechless. She never in a million years could've expected this. "Can I have a drink of water?" Bea asked, "I'm so thirsty." "Yeah, there's a dispenser built into the fridge," Michelle said. Beatrice excused herself and stood up, heading to the kitchen. She found the glasses in the cabinet, pulled a mug and filled it up. As she drank, she tapped at the calendar and looked back into the living room over the couch at Michelle. "Why's this circled?" "...it's my birthday," Michelle said. "Not too happy about it?" Bea asked, walking back to the living room now. "How...how would this work?" Michelle asked, as Beatrice once again seated herself. "Well, I'd bring them over to you and we could sit together and watch them, take notes on things I'd like cut out, make some small edits here and there. But you're the only person I'd trust with this kind of project, despite barely knowing you. I just...I can sense you appreciate me, and because of that, I appreciate you. I'd happily pay you, of course, if that's what you're asking." "That...that wasn't what I was asking, but I can't really turn it down. I am in need of employment..." Michelle said, sounding embarrassed. "You know, when I was your age, I couldn't see myself doing anything else other than what I wound up doing. Can you honestly say you don't feel the same? Can you see yourself wasting away in some dreadful little office for the next 30 years, toiling away for someone who doesn't give a shit about you while your actual talents go to waste?" Michelle chewed her lip and shook her head. "Every job I've tried just...doesn't feel right. I've...I've never really known where it is I should be or what it is I should be doing, but I know it isn't any of the things I've tried, that's for sure," Michelle said, and Bea smiled, leaning forward. "Because guess what, knowing what you don't want to do is more important than knowing what you want to do, and it's not an insight everyone gets, unfortunately," Bea said, "Help me help you. I know this is weird, I know it's out of the blue, I know we barely know one another but I see potential in you that I saw in myself, and I would never forgive myself if I didn't try and bring it out of you." Michelle smiled, and tried not to cry. Her idol, a woman she'd long admired her entire life, was sitting in her living room and telling her she believed in her. How things had come to this she couldn't really understand, but they had, and she never felt more thankful. "I have to go, I have some other errands to run," Beatrice said, standing up and pulling her purse back up over her shoulder as she headed for the door, "But please think about my offer. Interviewers, convention organizers, even Leslie herself - god love her - wanted to heap praise onto me for the things I made, not for the person I was so I can't help but appreciate that you tracked me down for a very personal reason. You liked the things I was saying, not the things I was selling. That means a lot to me." As she stood in the door, about to exit to the porch, she pulled something out of her purse, along with a pen. She flipped open the little booklet and began scribbling in it before finishing with a flourish and tearing the paper out, handing it to Michelle. "...this...this is three thousand dollars," Michelle said, staring at the paper, her eyes wide. "Yes it is," Beatrice said, stuffing her things back into her purse, "Get yourself some new equipment, a new apparatus, something to make life easier. The people who've been abandoned by everyone have to look out for one another." And then, without even asking, Beatrice leaned in and hugged her. Michelle couldn't breath - even more than she already couldn't - because these were things she never in a million years could've imagined happening. After the hug broke, Michelle watched Beatrice walk to her car, a tiny little hatchback, got in and honked goodbye as she pulled away. Michelle walked back around to her couch and plopped back down, her eyes glued to the check in her hands. After everything in her life, it wasn't her parents that came through for her. It was a long forgotten childrens public television host. And she could appreciate the humor in that. Everything hurt, his limbs felt heavy and his eyesight was blurred, but Liam knew he was alive. He could tell from the pain that he wasn't dead, because if he were dead, he wouldn't be in pain. He couldn't really move much, but he was able to look to his side and see, sitting in a chair by his bed, a woman reading a book. He coughed a little, and she lowered the book, revealing herself to be Beatrice, who then smiled at him.
"What...are you doing here?" he asked. "I'm your emergency contact," Bea said, "I guess you never changed that." "I...I guess not. Sorry to drag you out of your lair," Liam said, groaning as he adjusted himself and felt his body ache. "Try not to move much, you really did yourself some damage," Bea said, touching his arm and then bringing the blanket up over him more, tucking him in a bit before sitting back and sighing, asking, "...why did you do this? I mean, I figured you missed him, but-" "This doesn't have much to do with him, as it has to do with you," Liam said, surprising her as he added, "I broke you as a person, and I don't deserve to live if I'm going through life damaging others." "Liam that's ridiculous," Bea said, "Don't believe-" "Just...don't," Liam said, "I'll make sure to take you off my emergency contact." And with that, Liam rolled over and went to sleep, leaving Beatrice there to watch and wait. She couldn't help but feel like maybe she wasn't the only one who'd gotten hurt by the fallout of the shows end, and perhaps she'd been focusing on herself a bit too much. Sure, Liam had been the thing that brought it all crashing down in a way, but it also never would've been without him, and she often forgot that. *** Michelle set her hammer down and stood up, stretching, taking a puff from her inhaler as she stepped back and admired her work. She smiled, feeling good about her progress, and knew that she was, for the most part, done at this point. As she headed up the stairs and into the bathroom to wash her hands and face off, brushing the sawdust off her clothes, she heard a knock at her front door, and went to answer. As she pulled the door open, she saw Delores standing there. "Oh, hi," Michelle said, "What are you doing here?" "Can I come in? I have some things to run by you," Delores asked, and Michelle stepped aside, letting Delores in. Delores set her coat and briefcase down before turning around and adjusting her rings on her hand, smiling the whole time. "What's up?" Michelle asked, grinning nervously. "So," Delores started, "how has working for David been going?" "It's been, not very challenging, thankfully," Michelle said, "I mostly copy things for him, or do course work correction. He's been very accommodating." "He's been a friend for many years, so I'm glad to hear he hasn't become a worse person," Delores said, "His cousin was very ill for a long time, so I figured he'd know how to work with someone who was also somewhat disabled." "Thank you, Delores, I really appreciate it," Michelle said. "Are you taking any courses outside of that, like we talked about?" "Um, not currently, no, I've...I've been kind of busy with a personal project," Michelle said, rubbing her arm nervously as she walked around the couch and sat down in the loveseat. Delores shrugged and sat down on the couch, setting her briefcase on her lap and popping the lid open. "Well, I'm here for a very specific reason," Delores said, "I want you to know that I've found something a bit more interesting than just being David's gofer. There's a startup company interested in original streaming content for families and children. You said you wanted to work in entertainment, didn't you?" "I...did, yes," Michelle said, surprised Delores remembered this. "Well," Delores said, pulling a manila folder out and unclasping it, sliding out some papers and handing them across to Michelle, adding, "these are their applications, and with my help, they'll absolutely take you. All we have to do is make sure we get it in before they open up to a more public crowd." "How did you find out about this?" Michelle asked, taking the papers and flipping through them. "A friend I know who works in entertainment is part of it, her mother is anyway, and she's helping her mother get it off the ground seeing as she's the more tech savvy of the two. When she told me about it, I immediately knew it'd be perfect for you." Michelle was surprised at Delores's kindness. She'd always been helpful, but between David's part time assistant gig and now this, she was going somewhat above and beyond as an unemployment social worked, for some reason Michelle couldn't even begin to fathom. Sitting there flipping through the papers, she couldn't help but take note of the letterhead at the top, noting the company name: CLEAN. This name struck her as somewhat...straight forward, but Delores had said they were invested in bringing family entertainment and content to children, so it did make some sense. "Delores, this is...this is a bit overwhelming, but I'm definitely interested," Michelle said, "Could we maybe meet at your office this-" "Forget my office, meet me at Gayle's, you know that small coffee shop near the office, and we'll plow through these together this weekend, okay? But no later, because as soon as this offer opens up to a more public job searching group, you're not going to have time." "I understand," Michelle said, smiling, "Thanks, Delores." "You feeling okay, sweetheart?" Delores asked as she packed her things back up and, clicking the locks back shut on her briefcase, looked at Michelle concernedly, adding, "How's your breathing?" "I'm okay, Delores, it's just been a...a very strange week, hah. I just need some time to recuperate and relax," Michelle said, "My breathing's been fine. I've just been finishing a personal project and it's taken a lot out of me, physically. I just...I'm not mentally there enough right now to focus on this." "Completely understandable," Delores said, standing up and heading to the door, putting her hand on Michelle's shoulder, smiling as she said, "...you take care of yourself Puffin, we'll get this done this weekend." Michelle rose from the couch and followed Delores to the front door, an eyebrow arched, a smirk playing on her lips. "Puffin?" she asked, "That's an odd term of endearment." "It's because your hair is so black but the rest of you is so pale, except your eyes. So vibrant, so full of life. You really smash the ridiculous idea that sick people aren't capable of anything," Delores said, standing on the porch and looking at her address plates, picking at them, "These should be replaced, you really shouldn't let them get so worn out." "Okay, I'll make sure to put it on the list," Michelle said. The women hugged, and Michelle watched Delores head to her car. As she watched her drive away, Michelle couldn't help but feel like she had an adult in her life who really genuinely cared about her, and now it was time to show an adult she really cared about them. It was time to show Beatrice the basement. *** "You sure you don't want to do something?" Lexi asked, pulling her backpack straps up around her shoulders as she and Keagan stood out in the back of the restaurant while Keagan smoked a joint, but Keagan just shook her head. "Nah, I'll be okay, I have to run some errands anyway," Keagan said, walking Lexi to her car. Lexi pushed her long, perfectly bleach blonde hair back behind her ear and smiling as she looked at the ground in front of them as they walked. "You know," Lexi said, "You could come over after your errands. Lord knows I got nothing but time." "Shouldn't you be studying?" Keagan asked, and Lexi shrugged. "Eh, I'll do it on the weekend," Lexi said, stopping at her car, hand on the roof, her piercing green eyes looking at Keagan, "Come over. I'll order something totally awful in to eat and we'll just hang out. It'll be nice." "Aren't your mom and sister-" "She took my sister to another town for the weekend for a Lacrosse game, she's going to root from the stands, which will surely embarrass my sister which is great, because frankly she could stand being taken down a peg," Lexi said, making Keagan laugh. "So I see, you're all alone and you're creeped out, so you don't want to be alone?" Keagan asked, squeezing the tip of the joint to save it for later before stuffing it in her back pocket of her jeans. "Puh-lease, I don't get scared. I watch horror movies for fun," Lexi said, "I just thought it'd be cool to do something." Keagan was rarely invited places by other girls she had been friends with, and to be friends with Lexi often surprised others when they found out that the rather perfect aryan girl with her beautiful alabaster skin and her perfect bright eyes and her perfect blonde hair was friends with the frizzy haired black girl, but Lexi was nothing if not racist. Lexi opened her car door and tossed her backpack on the passenger seat, then leaned on the door, her arms crossed on the top as she rested her chin on her arms and smiled. "I guess I could come over," Keagan said, "I just need to run a few errands first." "Great!" Lexi said, "I'll see you soon!" Lexi got in her car and backed out of the lot, pulling away and honking at Keagan, who headed back inside to clear out her timecard, lock the place up and head to do her errands before going to Lexi's. Keagan first stopped at a drug store and picked up some toothpaste and mouthwash, along with a few packs of tooth whitening gum before heading to a bookstore to return something. She then finally headed to Lexi's. Having never seen the place before, she was humbled by the quaint apartment complex Lexi and her family had been made to move into after losing all their assets, and she parked in the guest parking before heading to the apartment she knew was Lexi's. As she knocked, she could hear Lexi tell her to come in, so she did, only to find the place completely dimmed and only lit by candles. Keagan stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind her, confused. Was the power out? Nah, couldn't be, because she'd seen the lights on in neighboring apartments. Could they not afford their power bill? As she put her bookbag down and looked around, she couldn't help but feel confused, until she noticed a fire was lit in the faux fireplace, and then Lexi stepped out from the kitchen in a silk bathrobe. Keagan stopped and looked at her, still confused. "What's going on?" Keagan asked, "Are we gonna hold a satanic ritual?" "God, if only," Lexi said, approaching Keagan, "No, I just wanted things to be perfect." "What?" Keagan asked, backing up until Lexi had her pinned against a wall, smiling at her. Lexi reached up and touched Keagan's face, then ran her soft fingers down to her chin and lifted her face gently, before pressing her own lips against Keagan's, taking her completely by surprise. Keagan didn't fight it, she was much too shocked to fight it, but after the kiss ended, she was still standing there in complete shock. "Uh..." Keagan said, "Um, what...what is this?" "What does it seem like?" Lexi asked. "Seriously?" Keagan asked. "Are you not-" "No, I mean, I don't know," Keagan said, "I never...I never really thought about it, I guess, but I...uh..." "I'm sorry, I just assumed that..." An awkward quiet fell over the room, and both girls looked at the floor, avoiding shame. Lexi finally walked around to the couch and buried her face in her hands, crying. Keagan finally stirred enough to follow her and sit beside her. "God, I always do this," Lexi said, "I always meet someone, and then I just...I assume they're like me, and they never are and then I never hear from them again. I've had to change jobs so many times since dad went under because of making this mistake. Heterosexual people, they never have to assume, they just usually ARE correct in their assumptions. But me? God forbid I think someone might be like me." "I...I didn't even know you were-" "What? A lesbian?" Lexi asked. "I just...you're so...perfect, I just assumed you were straight." "Yeah, you'd be surprised how many guys say the same thing. That's the problem with being a femme queer; they think to be a woman who likes women you have to be this...this weird butch woman who wears combat boots and looks like she lost a fight to a pair of scissors." Keagan chuckled, which made Lexi smile a little, as she sniffled and wiped her nose on the arm of her silk robe. "Please don't cry," Keagan said, "I don't want your eye makeup to run, it's not a great look." "How can I not cry? Look at my life, Keagan, look at the mess that it is," Lexi said. "I...I know, but I just...your life isn't the only one that's a mess. You should see this friend of mine I'm working on something with," Keagan said, "She's not much better. Nobody our age is doing much better, to be quite honest. Besides, I never said...I wasn't..." Lexi looked at Keagan, who looked at her hands in her lap. "I just...I guess I never really thought about it, honestly," Keagan said, "And, like, especially with you, because you're so pretty, how could you like me of all people." "Don't say that about yourself," Lexi said, "You're the one who's beautiful." Keagan smiled and looked at Lexi, who reached forward and pushed some of Keagan's hair back, running her hands through it. Keagan shut her eyes and enjoyed this feeling, sighing softly. Lexi edged closer and took Keagan's hand in her free hand, gripping it softly before pressing her lips against Keagan's neck, making Keagan gasp a little. "Stay here," Lexi whispered, "Just stay with me." "Well how can I say no really," Keagan said, falling back on the couch as Lexi crawled over her and pinned her wrists over her head to the arms of the couch, chuckling, "Just...don't take it personally if I freeze up, I'm kind of new to this." "I understand," Lexi said, "Just let me take care of you." And she did, and she didn't regret it. *** Beatrice was exiting her apartment complex, heading out to her car when she heard a car door shut and looked up to see Michelle crossing the street, dragging her wheeling oxygen tank behind her, the tubes from it attached to a mask around her face. Bea stopped and looked at her as she struggled to pull the oxygen tank up onto the curb. "Miss Burden," Michelle said, "I hope this isn't weird." "Not any weirder than showing up before," Bea said, smiling slightly, "What can I do for your Miss Helm?" "I really need to show you something," Michelle said, "Please come with me to see my basement." "Hah! Uh, forgive me if I'm a tad hesitant to take a near total stranger up on that offer," Bea said, opening her car door before turning back to look at Michelle again, "...Miss Helm, I have some things to do today, would this take long?" "No, I promise it'll only take a few minutes, but I've spent the last year working on it, and I need to show you," Michelle said. This piqued Bea's interest. A half hour drive later they were heading inside Michelle's rented house, with Bea helping her get her oxygen tank up over the porch and over the door threshold, back into the house. From there she followed Michelle to the basement door, which Michelle opened and, after disconnecting the tank and taking a few puffs from her inhaler, began heading down. Beatrice exhaled, shook her head and followed her, unsure what it was exactly she was walking into. As she descended into the dark basement, she could hear Michelle moving, but she couldn't see a blessed thing. Only after Michelle turned the lights on, and her eyes finally adjusted, did Bea raise her hands to her face in shock at what she was looking at. "Oh my...god," Beatrice said, stepping off the last few steps and further into the basement, "You...built this?" Michelle nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Beatrice was staring at what boiled down to essentially the main set of her show, recreated in perfect replication down to the very last detail. She walked past all the things Michelle had built, like the small gazebo and the fake plants she'd bought and installed, running her hands over the wooden textures. "This is..." Beatrice started, then finished, "...insane." "Wh...what?" Michelle asked, her smile faltering. "This is insane," Beatrice said, turning back to face her, "Why would you do this?" "Be...because, because growing up this was the place that felt the most like home to me," Michelle said, "Aside from the hospital, which no child should feel is a home, and my home certainly wasn't a home, but your show...your world, your home...that's the place that gave me that feeling of warmth that a home should give a child. I know it was just a set, but it...it felt real to me." "...I just...I can't..." Bea said, struggling to find words as her head whipped around at this fever dream of a creation, "...why did you bring me here?" "Because...because people took it away from you, and I wanted to give it back," Michelle said, "because you, of all people, didn't deserve to have your home ripped from you the way it was. I know it isn't exact, I know it isn't the same, but I did my best to make it like it was, and...and after finding you, I just wanted to show you what you really meant to the world." Bea looked around again, her breath caught in her chest until she finally looked back at Michelle and started weeping, falling to her knees. This surprised Michelle, who knelt and put her arms around Bea, who pushed her head against Michelle and sobbed. "Thank you," Bea said, "Thank you, thank you." "Of course," Michelle replied, "Thank you for giving it to us in the first place. I see now what kind of beauty can come from a place built by multiple people. That's what a real home should be. Nobody should ever feel they don't have a home. Especially a dog." She wasn't sure how long they stayed there like that, but Michelle was willing to give Beatrice all the time she needed to accept this act of kindness. After all she'd given Michelle - even without knowing it - Michelle had finally repaid the debt. And she was right, after all. No dog should be homeless. The doorbell rang, and Bea sighed, pulling her soaped up arms out of her sink. She wiped them off on the hand towel hanging off the stove and then walked across the loft to the door to answer it. As she tugged the door open, time seemed to slow down, but not for Beatrice, only for the people on the other side of it. This was a moment they'd been dreaming of, and now here it was. Bea smiled at them politely and looked between the two young women.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice high, feminine and somewhat nasally. "My name is Michelle," Michelle said, "and this is Keagan. We're your biggest fans." This was not the way Beatrice wanted to end her day. *** "Hello, please, do come in!" Leslie said, ushering Michelle and Keagan into her office before heading around to the back of her desk and seating herself again. She waited for the girls to sit down before speaking again, polite as she'd always been in her career. She had to be, this was public access after all, and she needed the community to like her, and thusly, like her network. After they'd sat down, she smiled and pushed a bowl on her desk towards them, asking, "Candy?" "No thank you, I'm diabetic," Keagan said, and Michelle looked at her. "You never told me that," she said. "It never came up," Keagan replied, shrugging. "No bother, just an offer," Leslie said, pulling the bowl back, "So...I guess I should state the obvious right away...you're looking for Beatrice, right?" "Yes," Michelle said, "I've been searching for her, or anything related to her for years. She has virtually no web presence." "Not surprising. She paid some people to wipe most of everything they could from the internet about her," Leslie said, surprising them; she leaned back and propped her feet up on the desk, feeling comfortable with these young women before continuing, adding, "You're not the first ones to come looking for her, obviously. A few stragglers have come in over the years, but once they hit so many dead ends, they knew to give it up. It isn't even that she would've been hard to find, it's more that she didn't want to be found, and actively worked towards erasing any trace of herself - and thusly the show - from every plane of existence." "Why did she-" Keagan started, but Leslie shook her head. "I really have no concrete reason. I know the business with the pizzeria didn't make her happy, and I know that she really disliked the man who ran the place when that deal was put into place. She blamed Liam for all of that, and the two drifted apart as he took over the more business aspect of the whole thing. She saw him as grifting her creativity, shilling out her pain for cash." "That had to hurt," Michelle said. "It hurt her tremendously," Leslie said, "and once the whole shebang fell apart, Bea did her best to erase the entirety of it. She pulled all the tapes so it couldn't be rerun, she bought out all remaining merchandise - including the stuff from the pizzeria - so it couldn't circulate and she packed everything away in a storage unit. She cut ties with everyone, except me, which she sends me holiday cards and came to my baby shower." "That's nice of her to stay in touch," Michelle said and Leslie nodded, smiling sweetly. "I think she saw how much I respected her love of the work itself, far more than her love of the money it brought her," Leslie said, "I admired her morals on the capitalistic bullshit that came with selling your art, especially when your art is so deeply entwined with your personal feelings and isn't just something you're trying to deliberately make money off of. She appreciated that." "She sounds so...very disciplined," Keagan said. "She is, which is why it isn't unusual for people to come in searching for her," Leslie said, "She inspired a lot of young artists with her beliefs once they found out about them, and that's why they want to seek her out. I just assumed that's why you two are here." "We're not artists," Keagan said, "I'm just interested in lost media." "Ah, and you?" Leslie asked, turning to Michelle. A hush fell over the room as Michelle debated opening up, and really explaining her complex emotions tied to Beatrice, a woman she's never met, and the beagle she represented. She took a few deep breaths, batted her eyes a few times, pulled her inhaler out and took a few puffs before exhaling again and began speaking, her nails tapping on the old oak arm of the chair. "I almost died as a little girl," Michelle said, "I was in and out of the hospital a lot, and my parents...they fought a lot, and I fell by the wayside. They just...they didn't have the time or energy to expend on me when they could barely deal with their own problems. Because of this, I spent most of my time awake in the hospital, attached to various breathing apparatuses, watching TV, and mostly Beatrice Beagle. She gave me hope, she was always so sunny and bright and...and she made me not feel alone. She made me feel like I was cared for, even if it was by a stranger in a dog costume." Nobody spoke, but Leslie opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small packet of kleenex, tearing it open and dabbing at her eyes. "When the show ended, I felt like I lost my only friend in the world. I was so alone. But...but she inspired me to not give up and to always have hope and to always keep going no matter how bad things got. I'm not looking for her for any other reason than to thank her for what she gave me. A will to live." "I'm going to write something down on this piece of paper," Leslie said, after wiping the tears from her face and composing herself once again, "you aren't going to say how you got it, and you aren't to ask me for anything else. I have never, in all my years of meeting people trying to find her, given anybody this information, but after what you've told me, I don't know how I can't help you." She finished writing, capped her pen, folded the paper neatly and slid it across the desk. Keagan picked it up and looked at without unfolding it, her lip quivering. "What...is it?" she asked. "It's Beatrices address," Leslie said, "and if you see her, if you actually speak to her, please be as candid with her as you were with me. It'll benefit you." "Why are you giving us this? Doesn't this invade her privacy?" Keagan asked and Leslie leaned back in her chair and smiled, pushing some hair from her eyes. "Because someone has to tell that woman how wonderful she is," Leslie said, "So maybe she'll finally start believing it." *** "...how...how did you find me?" Beatrice asked, still standing tucked halfway behind the opened door, as if she expected them to hurt her in some way for some reason. "Got lucky," Michelle said, not at all eager to sell Leslie up the creak, "can we come in?" "...I...I'm not interested in visitors. If you're seeking autographs or something of that nature, I don't-" "Miss Beagle, please, just let me speak to you," Michelle said as Bea started to shut the door, "You saved my life." The door stopped closing, and she opened it back up cautiously, peering at the two young, clearly trustworthy women, and then sighed, shook her head and opened the door. "Come in," she said, "But don't expect much." The inside of her apartment loft surprised them. Elegant, chic, and yet somehow stuck in the 40s. Soft jazz played from the old record players horn and the artwork on the walls were mostly paintings, though none they recognized whatsoever. She had bookshelves filled to the brim with books on any and everything you could imagine, and her lampshades were beautiful and looked hand crafted. As the girls took a seat on the couch, Bea looked at them, hands on her hips and chewed her lip. "I suppose I should offer you something to drink," she said. "You don't have to," Keagan said, "We're okay." "You have to excuse me, I...I rarely have visitors, especially ones I'm not expecting," Bea said, "In fact I spent a good few years ensuring that would never happen, and yet every once in a while someone still manages to find me. Seems, in this day and age, one can't disappear completely. Anonymity is dead, long live omnipresence." "Miss..." Michelle started, and Bea smiled as she seated herself across from them on an old stool. "Burden," she said, "My last name is Burden, but call me Beagle if you so wish." This made the girls giggle. "Miss Burden, you're...you're what kept me going. When I was a little girl, I was in the hospital, I suffer from severe bronchitis and COPD, or Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. I spent a lot of time attached to breathing apparatuses of one kind or another, and today I still use inhalers and oxygen tanks regularly. But the one thing I did like having in the hospital was you. You were on the TV almost every day, reruns, and then your regular new shows when those aired. My parents didn't visit a lot, and I didn't really have any friends, so you were pretty much all I had, and you kept my spirits up and made me not as scared as I probably would've been." They watched for any sign in Beatrice's face of how she felt, but nothing came. She was stone faced. This made them feel somewhat uncomfortable, and Keagan and Michelle exchanged a brief nervous glance before Michelle started again. "When the show ended, I...I felt like I'd lost the only person to ever guide me and teach me anything. I've spent my life following your ideals, your beliefs, or I guess, those of Beatrice Beagles, I guess I should say, because-" "No, they're my ideals and beliefs. I am Beatrice. We are one. Please do not separate us," Bea said, surprising them as she crossed her legs, "Please, go on." "I...I mean there's not much else to tell. That was it. I have some old episodes still taped that I've digitized, but I didn't know you worked so hard to erase it all. If I'd known that, I would've done the same, if that's what you wanted," Michelle said, "I didn't know how badly you wanted to vanish." "I didn't want to vanish," Bea said, surprising them yet again, "The world wanted me to vanish, because I refused to play their game. Liam and his...his stunt with the pizzeria chain, that was a hump we never got over. As time wore on, I didn't feel as much like a person as I did a mascot. I knew, deep down, that to the network, I was there to get kids to ask their parents to take them to the pizzeria, not because I was imparting wisdom to young children who needed to be guided. They robbed me of my integrity by co-opting the most important personality I had and bastardizing it to be nothing more than another corporate excuse for creativity." "I'm so sorry that happened," Michelle said quietly, pulling her handkerchief from her coat pocket and putting it to her mouth, coughing violently into it. "So I figured if the world didn't want me the way I was, then I didn't want them to have any part of me," Bea said, continuing, looking her nails, her voice wavering a little, "they don't deserve people who care about their work if they don't respect the work itself. If they didn't want Beatrice Beagle for who she was, she didn't want them either. I try to refrain from using bad language, but really, what the fuck does a dog have to do with pizza anyway? Nobody was ever capable of explaining that to me." The girls laughed and nodded, which made Beatrice smirk as she continued. "I have to say, I'm not happy to have visitors, but it is refreshing for it to be for a good reason for once, because it means at least I made it through to one person for what I said, not what I sold," Bea said, "that almost makes it all worthwhile." Just then she heard the oven beep and excused herself to get up and head into the kitchenette. As they waited, Michelle using her inhaler again, Keagan looked to the side table by the couch they were seated on and noticed the picture of Bea as a young girl and her dog, sharing an ice cream cone. She picked it up tenderly, her mouth slightly agape. "Look at this," she whispered, pushing it into Michelle's lap, adding, "The dog. That's her. That's the beagle. She made the character after her dog. No wonder it was so personal to her." "Would you care for some food?" Beatrice asked, coming back in with an oven mitt on one hand, "I made some chicken, if you're interested." "Was this your dog?" Keagan asked, and Bea didn't respond, but she took the photo and looked at it for a few moments before exhaling and sitting back down. "That was Beatrice," she said, "Beatrice wasn't my real name. I adopted it as a moniker once she was gone. A testament to the long lasting love a friend such as a dog can give you. I molded and crafted the suit after her, with the help of a friend. It was in memory of her, to keep her spirit alive. That's all I wanted. I'd known her, nobody else had, but everyone deserved to have the same happiness she gave me. That's why I brought her to the world, only to have the world not appreciate her for anything other than her child friendly appearance and ability to market to the young audience." "I bet there's others out there who appreciated her the way we did," Keagan said. "Perhaps," Bea said, "But I don't do it anymore. The costume is put away for good. Beatrice is retired. Put down a second time. Do you have any idea what it's like to lose your best friend twice in a lifetime? It destroys a person." Michelle started crying, not even afraid of what Bea would think. "...thank you for proving to me that what I did had a purpose, made a difference," Bea said, "because by the end, it really felt like it hadn't." The girls stayed and had a bite to eat, discussed the legacy of the show a bit more and, when the time to leave came, Beatrice was seemingly enjoying their company and somewhat sad to see them off. As Keagan stood in the hall, pulling her jacket on and Michelle wheezed her way through her handkerchief, Beatrice excused herself momentarily. When she came back to the door, she had a tape in her hand. "I want you to have this," Bea said, "You need it more than me." She pushed the tape into Michelle's hands and smiled at them, before saying goodbye and shutting her door. Despite her kindness, and surprising openness, they couldn't help but notice she locked the door once it was shut. Likely force of habit more than anything else, but they couldn't ignore it either way. Keagan dropped Michelle off and then headed to work, leaving Michelle to watch the tape by herself. As she settled into her living room, she popped the tape into the VCR and sat back to see what she'd been given. After a bit of static, and then a title screen with production codes - clearly cut from broadcast but used for the networks cataloguing - passed by, the title screen for the show came on and the intro jingle started. She watched throughout the entire show, a rather mundane episode about not much in particular, but come the end of the episode, Beatrice did her usual farewell before saying she had some birthdays to read off from children who'd written in. As she read the names and gave sweet little birthday wishes to each and every one, Michelle finally realized why she'd given her this tape in particular. "And this letter comes from Michelle Helm, and it's her 9th birthday," Beatrice said, "She's written in to say that it would mean the world to her if I would visit her for her birthday, but seeing as I cannot do that, I figure the best I can do is say Happy Birthday, Michelle. You are a beautiful, intelligent young lady and I am happy you exist. I hope you have the best birthday you can have, and realize that every day you're here is a special day." This finally broke Michelle, and she started crying, but for the first time in a long time, they were tears of joy. Michelle stood up, clutching her Bea doll to her chest, and walked over to the basement door. She opened it, headed down the stairs and pulled the light string, brightening the room. She smiled at her work and knew she was on the right path. It was a good day. She'd have to remember to send Leslie Swann a gift basket. |
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
Categories |