If there was one thing Eliza Tartt was familiar with, it was hospitals.
That was perhaps the one similarity she and Michelle shared more than anything else, not that Michelle was very well aware of this. The reality of this made Eliza feel sick, ironically, and the last place she ever wanted to be again was a hospital, even if it wasn't for her. After the accident, when her mother died, Eliza simultaneously couldn't wait to leave the hospital, and yet she never wanted to leave. On one hand, leaving meant her life would never be the same again. Staying, however, meant she was closer to the event. Closer to her mother. Like, if she just tried hard enough, she could somehow get back to that moment and maybe change it. In the years since her mother died, Eliza had recognized this was a ridiculous thing to wish. But now, seeing Michelle regularly going to the hospital, it made her nervous. How many more people was she going to have to lose? First her mother, now her best friend? Where would it end? She set her scissors down on her drafting table and sat back in her chair as she heard the door to The Hole opening behind her. She didn't even turn to see who it was. She didn't care. It wasn't like anyone respected her privacy as it was, so why fight it. When she looked to her side a minute later, she realized it was Liam, of all people. "You never come out here," she said quietly. "I know, and I probably should," he replied, biting into the already half eaten apple in his hand and chewing, "it's nice out there. Quiet. Away from everyone. You hermits sure know how to live." Eliza smirked and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "You okay, kiddo?" Liam asked, and she shrugged. "Is anyone?" she asked, "I don't know that I've ever been okay, honestly. I'm not sure I even know what okay feels like." "God," Liam said, "Remind me not to come hang out with you again, you enormous bummer." He smiled at her, to let her know he was kidding, then he pulled over one of the stools and seated himself on it, looking at the puppet she was making on the table. He picked up a few loose sheets of paper with designs on them, measurements and material options, and read through them before setting them back down, sighing and looking at her. "Eliza, I promise you that Beatrice is going to do whatever it takes to make sure Michelle will be okay, alright?" Liam asked, "I know she's your best friend, but you have to have some faith, okay? I promise, she's gonna be fine." "But what if she isn't?" Eliza whispered, and Liam couldn't even answer that. *** "It's so nice to have someone else in the house," Delores said, standing at her stove, making a pot of soup while Michelle sat at the table. Since her health had worsened, she'd taken up to living with Delores - not just to give Keagan and Lexi some space, but also for some help from someone who spent their life helping others - and it was...comforting. Michelle's mother had never been the most loving or affectionate, so to have a woman about the same age as her mother give her that kind of motherly love...it was nice. Michelle coughed and laid her head down on her folded sweatshirt on the table; her voice was weak lately from all the coughing. "What do you think I should do?" Michelle asked, almost wheezing, "there's things they could do, but...what do you think I should do?" "Personally," Delores said, sipping from her stirring spoon, "I would want you to do whatever you can to get better. You need to take some time off from work, first and foremost. I know Beatrice and the show is important to you, and that you're a crucial part of it, but you simply cannot go on doing things the way you're doing them right now in the condition that you're currently in. You'll only worsen yourself, okay?" Michelle nodded, smiling. She shut her eyes, and simply listened to the sound of Delores humming and cooking. It felt so safe being here, and Michelle was so grateful to have such a caring social worker. After a few minutes, she heard a chair scraping on the floor, and opened her eyes to see Delores seating herself at the table across from her, and looking at Michelle seriously. "W...what?" Michelle asked, coughing. "You need to stay here," she said, "it's okay, I have plenty of room, but you need someone to take care of you during this. You need to not feel in the way. I'm more than happy to welcome you into my home. But you also have to do something for me, and that's to continue fighting to get better, no matter what it takes, okay? Cause no kid of mine gives up without a fight." Michelle blushed, and nodded. "Okay, I'll keep fighting," she said weakly. "Now take a nap. I'll wake you up when the soup is done," Delores said. *** Leslie was sitting in her office when the door opened and Beatrice came in, slamming the door behind her, surprising Leslie, who yelped at the loud noise. She put her pen down and looked at Bea, who was now pacing nervously back and forth, chewing on her nails. "Problem?" Leslie asked. "Too many," Bea replied. "Well, let's look at some of them," Leslie said. "Where to even start? I've been outed, my biggest creative partner is in extremely poor health, the show and its merchandise is doing so well that it terrifies me, and I don't know what to worry about first. That's how many problems I have, I can't even figure out which one to focus on." Leslie laughed a little. She always appreciated seeing Beatrice anxious, because she so rarely did, and it reminded her that she was, in fact, a human being. Beatrice tried so hard to be anything other than that, to be perfect and all knowing, and to see her actually full of doubt made her all the more endearing to Leslie. Leslie leaned back in her chair and put her legs up on her desk. "Are you wearing cowboy boots?" Beatrice asked, stopping and looking at her shoes. "I can wear whatever footwear I want," Leslie remarked. "Why do you feel the need to dress up as a mythological figure?" Bea asked. "Asks the woman who wears a dog suit for a living," Leslie replied, cackling, "look, my choice of shoes isn't the issue here, alright? You need to calm down, okay? Just chill out for a second and let's approach these issues one at a time, and we'll make some kind of progress or-" "I can't just slow down!" Beatrice shouted, surprising Leslie. Leslie liked seeing her nervy, but she didn't like seeing her scared, Leslie got up from her desk chair and went around, putting her hands on Bea's shoulders and stopping her from pacing. She made her face her, and looked in her eyes. Beatrice stood and stared Leslie down, her eyes wet with tears. Then, without even realizing she was doing it, Leslie hugged her. They'd tried not to be openly affectionate in public since the incident, but hell, they were at work in an office, and she needed something right now. It was more than worth the risk. As she stroked Bea's hair, she could hear softly crying into her blouse. "...what do i do if she can't get better?" Bea whispered, "...i don't think i can do the show without her." "She's not even IN it," Leslie said, confused. "But she's why it's back at all," Bea added, "she's why it exists at all right now. If she...god, I can't even say it." "She's not going to, alright? She's just having a health scare," Leslie said, "but she'll be fine, trust me. Even if she can't come into the office for a bit, we'll find a way to include her in some capacity. Get her a work station for home or something. She's clearly willing and capable, she built a set in her goddamned basement after all." Beatrice smiled, nodding. Leslie was right. She just had to relax. Michelle was tough. She'd survived childhood with this illness, surely she could survive adulthood. Especially now that, this time, she had such a strong support system surrounding her. All she had to do, for once, is simply not worry. Something Beatrice was, sadly, almost incapable of doing. *** Lexi was sitting in the living room of the apartment when Keagan got home. Shutting the door behind her and tossing her bag on the floor by the door, she sighed loudly before noticing Lexi was sitting on the couch, cross legged, in the dark. Keagan furrowed her brow, but didn't turn the lights on. Instead, she walked around to the front of the couch and climbed onto it beside her. "You okay?" Keagan asked, tracing her fingertips up and down Lexi's arms. "...i can save her," Lexi whispered. "What?" "Michelle, I can save her," Lexi said, turning her head to look at Keagan; her eyes were red, like she'd been crying hard for hours, but she was smiling regardless as she added, "I can do it. I have the money. If there's a treatment that can save her, that can help her, I can pay for it. What good is getting this money if I don't do good with it? My dad was greedy, he went to jail because of money, but now I can take that very same money and put it towards helping rather than hurting." Keagan was stunned. Lexi, since obtaining the money, had seemed like she was focused on shallow, almost superficial things. A better place to live, buying a nicer car, so to hear her state that she could do something for someone else...it threw her. She honestly didn't know how to respond. She was touched, to say the least, but her shock was currently overwhelming any other emotions she could possibly convey. Lexi smiled and looked down at the drink in her hand. "...I have to do it," she said softly, "Michelle's determination to get Beatrice to come back not only got you a career, but it allowed me to take the chance and be with you, bravery via admiration is still bravery regardless of its source. Everything she has ever done has been for the good of others. It's time someone did something for the good of her." "Well, if you think you-" "It's not about what I think. It's the right thing to do. If there's one life lesson to be learned from Beatrice Beagle, it's to help your friends," Lexi said, chuckling, "look at us, adults taking lessons from a kids show." "There's a reason they're popular," Keagan replied, shrugging, the girls laughing. *** Michelle had eaten what Delores had cooked, then had - at Delores's insistence - taken a bath with the lights off, before taking a nap afterwards. When she woke up, she pulled on the robe Delores had given her and stumbled out into the kitchen, surprised to find Delores sitting at the table, eating an enormous slice of cake, her hair in rollers. Delores merely smiled at Michelle as she entered. "Everything okay?" Delores asked. "I wanted some water," Michelle said weakly, "...where did you get cake?" "Secret hiding spot," Delores replied, getting up and getting Michelle a glass of water as Michelle seated herself at the table. "You hid an entire cake?" "You'd be surprised the enormous things women can hide," Delores said, handing the glass to Michelle before adding, "...that might not have come out right, but you know what I mean." Michelle giggled as she sipped her water. Delores sat back down and, fork back in hand, continued digging into her cake. Michelle sat back in her chair and drank her water, trying to wake up as she watched Delores eat the biggest slice of cake she'd ever seen in her life. "I feel so pathetic," Michelle said, "I feel like I don't deserve any of the help I'm getting. I know that's just my moms hatred of my illness speaking, but still. People have so many things to worry about in their lives without having to worry about me on top of it. I know you're a social worker, you're, like, pre-programmed to care, but still." Delores laughed as she wiped her mouth and set her fork down, looking at Michelle. "Here's the situation kid," Delores said, clearing her throat, "you're sick. You're sick with a lifelong illness, and you were given shitty parents. In fact, the only saving grace in your life is that you somehow weaseled your way into the life of a woman who vanished some fifteen plus years ago, and has only returned as a result of your determination. Your life is not the same as others, which means the circumstances aren't going to be the same either. But you know what? That's good. That's means it's entirely unpredictable, and you get the things, and people, you never expected." Delores reached forward and put her hand on Michelle's arm, smiling. "The people you never expected," she continued, "people who love you, and care about you, and want to help you. I won't tell you that you should be happy, because you have every right to feel however you want. The situation sucks, and far be it from me to try and tell you to hold your head up and smile. Cry all you goddamn want, sweetheart, you're in an unfair situation, and you deserve to grieve over a seemingly 'normal' life. But you should recognize, while acknowledging your emotional autonomy, that you are lucky. We love you. All of us. And we're gonna do whatever it takes to help you. After her plane crash, my daughter didn't want my help. She pulled away from me, and that killed me, because all I ever knew was to help my children. Let me help you." Michelle nodded, crying silently. She wiped her eyes on her robe sleeve as Delores got up and kissed the top of her head as she took her plate to the sink, then exhaled. "I'm off to bed kiddo," she said, "by the way, a package came for you while you were napping. It's on the coffee table in the living room. See you in the morning." With that, Delores spirited herself away upstairs to her bedroom. Michelle got up and, cinching the belt around her robe, headed into the living room. She sat down on the couch and saw a small, brown package sitting on the coffee table. She recognized the handwriting on it right away as Eliza's, and she furrowed her brow, unsure of what to expect. She picked up a small pair of scissors from the table and started opening the package, only to gasp. She reached inside and pulled out a handmade Beatrice doll. Attached to it was a small note, which Michelle quickly detached and read to herself "Michelle, I made this for you. It's special. It's not like the ones you can get in the stores, and it's the only one like it to exist. Now you can have her with you whenever you feel scared. I'm not good at explaining my feelings, and especially bad at explaining my feelings about others to them, but...you're very important to me, like Beatrice is to you, and I want you to feel safe and comfortable during this terrifying time. I hope to see you again soon, either at work or elsewhere. I hope you're feeling better, and if not, I hope this makes you feel better. Your very best friend, Eliza Tartt. PS: squeeze her paw." On the verge of full on ugly crying, Michelle gathered herself best she could and looked at the doll, her hand slowly gripping the paws and squeezing. Eliza hadn't clarified which, so she tried one, and when that didn't work, she tried the other. When she did, the small voicebox inside just barked at her, and Michelle started laughing and crying simultaneously. She vowed she'd get better, if for nothing else than for Eliza. She'd suffered enough loss. Michelle held the doll to her chest tightly and cried in the darkness of the living room. Eliza, lying in her bed at home and staring at a photo of herself, Bea and Michelle in The Hole sometime during production last year, was crying too, but for an entirely different reason. She was hopelessly, helplessly in love, and didn't know how to show it, so she just did what she did best. She made a doll.
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There was nothing Michelle liked better than going for a ride.
Even as a little girl, her only really good memories of being with her mother were on car rides. Especially car rides late at night, when the dashboard was lit up while the rest of the world was asleep, with only the passing overhead streetlamps to light the way, and the air conditioner blowing on her face, the whole sensation lulled Michelle into a sense of security that she rarely got otherwise. For just a brief moment, she felt like she could ignore the world outside her car, and simply enjoy being alive. And she really liked it when she didn't have to drive, and thankfully, she didn't right now. Beatrice was in fact the one behind the wheel, but mostly because it was Beatrice who had any idea of their destination. Michelle pulled open her small package of peanuts and started eating them slowly, one by one, sucking the salt from them in her mouth before chewing the remains, all while Beatrice drove in silence. The radio wasn't on. They hadn't spoken since they left a half hour ago. All in all, the mood was what Michelle might consider 'offputting'. Finally, Michelle took a deep breath from the mask strapped around her neck and then exhaled before continuing to eat her peanuts. "Sorry to demand this little road trip," Beatrice said, "I know it's probably not what you want to do right after being in the hospital, but I wanted to spend some time alone with you." "It's fine," Michelle replied, shrugging, "if nothing else, it's nice to be able to go somewhere without having to put any effort into it firsthand. I'm glad you're the one driving." "It's weird, isn't it?" Beatrice asked, heading down the long empty straightaway in the middle of nowhere, "just how much we take existence itself for granted. We just...we push aside any thoughts of dying, of non existence, because not only is it too scary to think about but also because hey, if we've made it thirty years, why wouldn't we make it another thirty years? But time is finite. Existence is fragile. I was so scared you might die." "I get that," Michelle said, "when I was a little girl and in and out of the hospital all the time, I think I was scared too. Then, when nothing fatal ever happened, I sort of just assumed I was in the clear. Like you said, I just pushed it all to the back of my head. Told myself I was fine. When I collapsed at the event, I had this moment where the last thought to run through my head was 'it took a while'. Imagine that being the last thing you think." Beatrice smirked and clicked her turn signal on, despite there being no cars around for miles. "I guess the benefit of youth is the outright denial of death, not even denial, the abject inability to even comprehend such a thing," Beatrice said, "I never thought about how short life was when I was 10, because I was 10, and it didn't occur to me that life ends. Even when someone finally did die, someone in the family or something, it still never really got through to me that it would eventually happen to me one day. People talk about the loss of innocence of childhood as we get older, but what we really lose is that sense of immortality. That's what we lose, and as a result, we're terrified to do anything new, because, hey, it could kill us." Michelle chuckled and nodded, popping more peanuts into her hand and then tossing them into her mouth as Bea continued. "Your mom came by," she whispered. "Really? To the hospital?" "Only to cause a scene," Beatrice said. "Yeah that's kind of her thing," Michelle replied. "People who don't put in the time to love you don't deserve the chance to grieve you," Beatrice said flatly, "everyone else who was there that day...everyone was devastated. Your social worker, Keagan, even Eliza...we were all so worried to death, and then she comes strolling in like this is just something she was expected to show up to, like an appointment of some kind. She doesn't deserve to worry, if she never cared to love you to begin with." "I think she does love me, that's the problem," Michelle said, "she just...loves herself more. It's always been more about her. But I think she loves me in the sense that I give her an excuse for her failure at life. I'm the scapegoat. Sure, that's not the kind of unconditional parental love one craves, nor should it be acceptable, but it's love, I guess." "My parents bent over backwards for me," Beatrice said, "if anything made me upset, they'd find a way to make me feel better. Nowadays, people act like loving your child too much is somehow a negative thing. Now far too many parents leave their children in the hands of society, in the hands of media, which is why I decided the media they consume has to make up for their parents inability to love and nurture them. If they weren't up for the job, then god dammit I would be." "You ever think about having kids?" Michelle asked, and after a brief pause, Beatrice shrugged. "At this stage in my life it would be weird," she said, "but I see everyone as my child now, not in a creepy Jesus kind of way, but, you know what I mean." Michelle, laughing, nodded. The sound of her laughter filled Beatrice with happiness, and she was so glad to see Michelle feel good enough to laugh again. Michelle finished her peanuts pouch and crumbled up the bag, stuffing it into her denim jacket, before pulling her hair up into a messy bun and clipping it there. She grabbed the mask and put it over her face, taking another long breath, before setting it back in her lap and then biting her lip, trying not to cry. "What's wrong?" Bea asked, concerned by her sniffling. "...i wish she loved me," Michelle whispered, "I know, I know that's, like, so cliche, but...god I wish I had family. I wish I had a mother. I know I shouldn't want her acceptance, her love, after how she's treated me, but I do." "It's only natural," Beatrice said, her voice low but caring, "we all want our parents to love us, especially those of us who don't get that. And the world doesn't feel fair, by comparison, because so many other people have loving parents, why don't we? I feel so guilty for coming from such a warm and loving family, because it makes my art feel invalidating. The kind of pain I feel should only come from deep sadness, but I'm not a sad person, really. I'm actually a pretty happy person. I'm jaded, cynical, but I'm overall satisfied with my life, especially with all of you in it." Michelle smiled, blushing, as she wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeves and exhaled. "I hate myself for wanting her to love me," Michelle said, "it makes me so mad that I want her acceptance, but I do. I can't help it. I want her to love me the way she loves herself and her art." "That's the thing about art, it isn't borne primarily from pain like so many people think," Beatrice said, "it can come from people who are perfectly content, like myself, or from people who are incredibly self indulgent, like her. She loves herself, she thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread, so she creates art to convince everyone else of that very same worldview. She can't fathom a life where she isn't the best and the brightest. She needs that acceptance, just like you want hers." Michelle nodded, understanding what she meant. Michelle smiled meekly. "I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but...when I was in the hospital, sometimes I would sneak to the nurses station and steal cards meant for other kids, and I'd read them, pretending they were for me. Pretending that my parents loved me enough to send me something. It's sick, but I guess we do what we have to to get by or whatever." "That's not sick, Michelle, it's sad as fuck but it's not sick," Bea said, the both of them chuckling as she continued, "you have to create these false realities when reality doesn't give you what you need. Why do you think I created what I created. Why do you think you remade the set in your basement? We create the realities we need, because the realities we need don't exist. I'm sorry they didn't love you." "It's fine," Michelle said, "I've gotten used to it." "But that's the thing," Bea said, "nobody should have to 'get used to it'. You should have to get used to a romantic relationship ending, or someone dying, but not the people who should love you not loving you. Nobody should have to get used to their family not wanting them. That's just wrong." "Nothing that can be done about it now," Michelle said, shrugging. "That's where you're wrong," Beatrice said, "there is something you can do about it. You wanna see?" This piqued Michelle's interest, as she had no idea what Bea meant with this cryptic statement. Bea turned down a long dirt road, surrounded by absolutely nothing for miles - not a building or person as far as the eye could see - and continued driving until finally something came into view in the distance. It got bigger and bigger, until finally Michelle could see what it was. A doghouse. Why was there a doghouse out here? And why would Beatrice bring her to it? Finally, as they got close enough, Bea slowed the car down, then came to a full stop. Bea shut the car off, opened the drivers door and climbed out, before heading around to the passenger side and helping Michelle from the car, dragging her oxygen tank behind her, mask fully on her face now. "What...Bea...what is this?" Michelle asked, as they approached. "When I was a little girl, Michelle, I had a dog. A beagle. She was my best friend in the whole world," Bea said, "I didn't really like other kids, and living more out in the country, I wasn't around kids much besides school, so she was the most companionship I had, aside from my folks of course. She died when I was in college, and it...it broke me. Something inside of me died that day, and it never recovered. Much like our own perceived immortality when we're young, we also rarely think about the fact that our pets will eventually go too. It's just, I don't know, too sad a thought I guess to really comprehend. But...she died, as every dog before her and after her has done or will do. After college, I came home for a bit before going to the city and...I moved her doghouse out here." "Why?" Michelle asked. "I just...I needed a place in the world just for us. Where I could come and pretend like nothing had changed. Like I was still that little girl in the country with a dog for a best friend," Bea said, "this is why it's been so hard this year, merchandising, because she isn't just a character, she's real. She's me. A part of me, anyway. I took her name, I made her a character, I wanted the world to love her the way I do. But...the closer that comes to being a reality, the more it scares me. It feels like she's no longer just for me. Now I have to share her. I wanted that, but when you get what you wanted, you start to wonder why you wanted it in the first place. I guess I wanted her to be shared and loved by everyone because of all the happiness she brought me. I wanted others to have that. You had it." Michelle stood there, unable to come up with anything to say. "In the hospital, watching the original show, you had it. You found a joy in her that I had found years before. I didn't know it at the time, but I had accomplished my goal a long time ago. You needed someone, and she was there. I was there," Beatrice said, "and I'm here for you now. She's here for you now." Beatrice approached Michelle and put her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "...you're the only one who needed her," Bea whispered, "the world doesn't, you did. The doll, the show, everything...it was all for you, I guess. Unlike your mother, my art wasn't made for my sake, but for yours. Not intentionally, obviously, not at first anyway, I didn't even know you, but looking back on it now...it's hard to deny. There's so few things in this world that matter to me the way Beatrice did, but you're one of them." Bea wrapped her arms around Michelle and squeezed her tightly, both women crying now as they hugged in front of the doghouse. Never in her life, especially not as a child, could Michelle have expected that one day, the very thing that got her through her sickness, would give her this level of love. She was so grateful, and she couldn't believe her luck. "You know," Michelle said, half laughing half crying, "they say not to meet your heroes, but I think those people just have shitty heroes." Bea laughed loudly, squeezing her tighter. Beatrice had never brought anyone else to the doghouse. It was a sacred space, meant only for herself, but she realized Michelle was the only other person in the world to understand that level of love, and how important it was to have. Michelle had to see it, because seeing it meant knowing who Beatrice was fully, and she needed that level of connection with an older adult. "I know I'm not your mom," Bea whispered, "but I sure I hope I've somewhat made up for her failures." "More than you'll ever know," Michelle whispered back, "more than you will ever, ever know." *** Sitting on the roof of the doghouse, Beatrice looked up at the night sky, taking a long drink from the beer can she had brought with her. She'd only finished building it a few days ago, and she would go back to school in a few weeks time, but for right now, she had this. She had this moment of solitude, this place where she could just be sad, and open, and alone. But she wasn't alone, and she knew that. She knew she wasn't alone. Beatrice was here. It was in that moment, that Amelia Burden decided to take Beatrice's name for her own, and leave her old identity behind. Soon enough she'd graduate college, and she'd be out in the city trying to make art, make a name for herself, and what she needed was an identity she could hide behind, to give her strength. And what's stronger than the love of a dog? Absolutely nothing, that's what. |
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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