It had taken a few weeks to get the live show set up. Promotion, stage rental, hiring one time performers, etc. As for staging and props, they simply utilized the stuff from the show proper, so that saved a bit of time. In between preparation for all this, the shows current season wrapped up with introducing Keagan's puppet, Serena, and the reaction was overwhelmingly positive, which only lifted Keagan's spirits more and more. Soon she was inundated with fanmail for her performance as Serena, from young black girls who couldn't believe they saw themselves on their favorite show. Everything seemed to be going just great, all except for Beatrice.
The signs of her cracking first began to show at her mothers funeral. She invited Liam, Michelle, Eliza and Leslie, if only because she needed that support. But even then, each of them could see she wasn't handling the loss well at all. Hell, the drive for the live show was a direct result of her not handling it well, so it wasn't like it wasn't obvious. But they retained hope that she would come back, stronger than ever, just in time for the show. Unfortunately, as the premiere date drew ever closer, Beatrice seemed to become more and more reserved and unhinged. She would lock herself in her office at work, even away from Liam, and she would spend a good majority of her time at home sobbing in the bedroom. Leslie did her best to comfort her, but it only went so far. Now, with opening night only 24 hours away, nobody knew how she would be when the time to perform came, and quite frankly, it scared them all deeply. Finally, that night before the premiere as they all ate dinner at the pizzeria, Bea and Leslie not attending, Liam asked the hard question. "What do we do if she can't get her shit together?" And nobody seemed to have an answer. *** "She's always been a rock," Michelle said, sitting on Eliza's bed, reading a magazine while Eliza fiddled with one of her trains; Michelle continued, "like, for any one of us, she's always been there to pick us up, so how come none of us know how to do the same for her?" "She's an enigma," Eliza said, adjusting her jewlers loupe over one eye as she carefully adjusted a small piece on the trains wheel, "I never tried to make sense of her because there's no sense to be made, frankly. To be fair, none of us make any sense, but she especially doesn't." "I take offense to that, I like to think I make plenty of sense!" Michelle said, chuckling. "Believe whatever you want, doesn't make it the truth," Eliza replied, both of them laughing. "Well, subjectivity aside," Michelle continued, "I want to do something to help her, but I just don't know what I can do." "Speaking as someone who lost their mom suddenly," Eliza replied, turning around on her stool and pulling the loupe up from her eye, "she needs to process it, even if that's in ways we don't fully understand or agree with. Everyone deals with grief differently. I know when my mom died, I did the opposite of Bea. She throws herself into her work, I pulled away from mine. None of us reacts the way others do and often do we react the way others expect us to." Michelle was impressed with Eliza's statement, the depth of its analysis, realizing she was completely right. Michelle sighed and stood up, plopping the magazine face down onto the bed and walking over to Eliza's stool, where she knelt down and, taking her face between her hands, kissed her. "I need to move props," Michelle said, "We're all meeting at the pizzeria tonight, whether Bea's there or not, so I'll come by and pick you up once I've shifted everything to the stage." "Do you want help?" Eliza asked. "Casey's helping me," Michelle said, "You take some time off, work on your trains, just relax. You deserve it, especially after all the work you put in on Keagan's puppet." Eliza blushed and nodded as Michelle kissed her on the forehead. "Love you, I'll see you later tonight," Michelle said as she headed for the door. "I love you too"! Eliza called out after her, giggling to herself like a schoolgirl with a first crush as Michelle exited. Eliza then pulled her loupe back down and, as Michelle suggested, went back to her trains. She did, in fact, deserve a break. She'd worked harder than most this year it seemed. She'd given so much of her time this year to other peoples interests, it wouldn't kill her to dedicate a day to her own for a change. *** "You ever huff glue?" Casey asked, as she helped Michelle pull Bea's doghouse set onto the dolly and strap it in. "What?" Michelle asked, laughing in response. "When you're alone, doing set building, you ever huff glue?" Casey asked. "No, never," Michelle said, "first of all, before this year I never would've been able to. I've always had bad lungs. But even now, I would't put my new good lungs in direct danger. I waited so long to breath properly, the last thing I wanna do is do potential damage to them." "...we come from very different worlds, you and I," Casey said, shaking her head as they both laughed and wheeled the dolly down the truck ramp and into the parking lot of the performance building. Once it was stopped, Casey lit up a cigarette and took a long puff, before wiping the smoke away with her hand and adding, "sorry, hope it's fine to smoke around you at least." "Oh, I don't care," Michelle said, shrugging, "do you do that regularly, huff glue, I mean?" "Eh, not so much anymore, but as a teenager definitely," Casey replied, "when you grow up with parents like mine you look for any kind of out that'll result in dissociation of one kind or another." Michelle wanted to say something supportive, something to show Casey that, even though their differences were so vast, she could relate to her issues in regards to her mother. But she just couldn't come up with the right words for the statement, so instead she just nodded in solemn understanding. They pulled out a few more set pieces and large props, and by the time they got to having most of the truck emptied, a car pulled into the lot and parked. Liam climbed out, looking somewhat haggard. "You doing okay, buddy?" Michelle asked. "I've done better," Liam said, groaning as he supported himself on his cane and hobbled towards them, "is this everything?" "Yep," Michelle said, as Casey loaded the dolly back onto the truck; Michelle ran her hands through her hair and asked, "hey, uh...have you spoken to or seen Beatrice today?" "Can't say that I have," Liam replied, holding his hand out to take Casey's cigarette as she returned, which she graciously handed him; he took a long drag, then exhaled and handed it back before adding, "but if I do, you'll be the first to know, outside of me, of course. Why? Are you worried about something?" "I'm worried about her," Michelle said, "ever since her mom died, she hasn't seemed entirely...stable." "Well, her mother did die, that changes a person," Liam said. "I know that, I'm just concerned because she's supposed to perform in a live show and interact with children and she can barely manage interacting with her own friends at the moment," Michelle said. She looked between Liam and Casey, then added, "am I the only one worried about her?" "Not at all," Liam said, "but...she's gotta do what she's gotta do. We just need to let her." With that, Liam and Casey started moving the props and sets into the building, while Michelle stood there, shaking her head. She couldn't believe that Liam, of all people, would be so non chalant about Beatrice's rapidly desolving mental health when he'd long since been her biggest supporter. Then again, he did know her the best. He was her oldest friend. Maybe he knew what he was talking about. After driving the truck back to the networks studio lot, Michelle decided she'd grab Eliza and head to the pizzeria earlier than expected, if only because she could use something to eat and normal socialization that didn't revolve around Beatrice, even if only momentarily. As Michelle and Eliza entered the pizzeria, Eliza quickly abandoned Michelle and headed for the little prize shop. Michelle, hands in her coat pockets, headed through the bright, flashing, loud games and came upon, of all people, Lex, at the skeeball. Michelle stopped and watched as Lex nailed each and every single ball. Once she was done, she pulled her tickets from the machine and winked at Michelle. "I have to admit," Michelle said, "I'm impressed." "Well, when I was little, before my dad went to prison, we used to go to this little carnival every weekend that was just outside of town and we'd always have skeeball tournaments. Guess you could say I got pretty good at it," Lex said, counting up her tickets. "Is Keagan here?" Michelle asked. "Yeah, she's over at the light gun area," Lex said, nodding in that direction, as she headed to the prize shop to join Eliza. Michelle nodded, then headed in the direction of Keagan. She found her, holding two lightguns, one in each hand, and playing some kind of alien shooter. As Michelle approached, Keagan smiled, put in more quarters for both players and handed Michelle one of the guns, which she gladly took. "You better be careful, holding a light gun while black," Michelle said. "God, I know right?" Keagan replied, "you get everything moved?" "Yep. How's answering all that fan mail going?" "Exhausting, my hand's cramping like a bitch," Keagan said, "but it's nice to get so many kind replies." "Are you seriously answering each and every one?" "Yep." "Damn, that's dedication," Michelle said. As they lost the game, they set the lightguns back in their plastic holsters and turned away from the machine. Keagan pulled her hair back into a ponytail and sighed, hands on her hips as she and Michelle looked around the pizzeria. Each wanted to ask the question, but neither seemed to want to be the one to broach the topic. Finally Keagan bit her lip, and the bullet. "Where is she?" she asked. "Beats me," Michelle said, "Even Liam said he hadn't seen her, which is...worriesome." Truth was, Beatrice had no interest in attending the gathering at the pizzeria. She was too busy hyperventilating at home, while Leslie yet again unsuccessfully attempted to bring her down. It wasn't so much the show that made her nervous, she was nothing if not a season performer at this point. It was more that she was upset that this was the first thing she was really doing without her mother being in the world. Something new, and something different, and even if her mother wasn't there to see it, she should've been around, existing at the same time as the production. After Beatrice finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Leslie sat in the living room, trying to get her wits about her. Tomorrow was going to be rough. She looked over at the Beatrice costume sitting neatly assembled in a chair, the head atop the rest of the costume, and she shook her head. She was starting to see Beatrice as anything other than a way to avoid her issues, and was starting to wonder if even Bea herself could discern the difference between the character and herself. Was it even worth it too? Was it even worth it to be Amelia Burden? Leslie leaned back agains the couch and covered her face with her hands. She thought maybe this live show would just meld the two together even further, and if Beatrice continued to use Bea as an escape, as a means to avoid her problems with the world, what would she be then? Where did Beatrice Beagle end and Beatrice the person begin? This live show worried her, but not for the reasons it worried the others. *** The place was absolutely packed to the gills. The show had sold out, and the stage was set, prepared for the show. The only thing missing was Beatrice, who was hiding out in the trailer in the parking lot, refusing the come out. Liam and Michelle were pacing back and forth backstage, while Eliza sat on a stool and made a lanyard, something she did to ease her anxiety at times such as these. They could hear the murmurings of the kids and their parents in the audience, and Liam knew people would start getting restless soon. Casey joined them, an open beer in her hand, as Liam stopped and looked at her. "You can't have an open container of alcohol in here, there's children," he said. "What, and being in the proximity of it will make them alcoholics? Get real," Casey said, taking a long sip before looking around and asking, "Wait, where's Bea?" "She won't come out of the trailer," Michelle said, shaking her head, unsure of how to approach the situation further, "...maybe we just cancel, refund, offer a public apology?" "We've put too much time and effort into putting this goddamn thing together for her to just decide she doesn't want to do her one part of the job," Liam said. "Her one part IS the job, dude," Casey said, "where's her trailer?" Michelle told her, and Casey turned and headed out of the building. As she hit the parking lot, she spotted it. Turned out she didn't even need directions, as the damn thing was impossible to miss. Casey walked up to the trailer and knocked on the door, but to no avail. Casey then reached into her hair, pulled out a hairpin and unfurled it, picking the lock and letting herself in. Inside, she found Beatrice sitting on the couch, in costume, the dog head in her lap. Casey stopped in her tracks and stared at the sight. "Not gonna lie, that's kind of a disconcerting sight," she said, "are you okay?" "Why would I be?" Bea asked, and Casey approached the couch, dropping to her knees and looking up at Bea. "...look, I probably am the last person to offer advice, especially on missing a parent who actually loved you," Casey said, "but...but you're a parent to most of those kids in there, whether you know it or not. You have a responsibility, not even to the studio but to those kids, to give them what they came here for. YOU. They came here for YOU. There are kids in there who only have one parent, or maybe they have no parents and they live with grandparents or aunts or uncles or whatever, and you're the only guiding light they have in their life. Do you wanna let them down the way all the other adults in their lives have?" Beatrice looked at Casey, then down at the head in her lap and sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Then get that fuckin head on and get in there and put on that show," Casey said, "You gave me a chance, you gave Michelle a chance, you gave everyone here a chance. We've all been through the shit, so it's time for you to get through the shit too. You think your mom would want you to sit in here and cry? Fuck no, dude. She'd want you to go in there and put on the show she knows you're capable of putting on. Do it for your mom, if you can't do it for the children." Beatrice looked at Casey again, sighing more. "It's more that..." Bea started, "doing this marks an era of my life without her." "Dude, she's dead regardless of what you do," Casey said, "If you do the show or not, your mom is still dead. This doesn't change that. You might as well keep doing what keeps yourself, and others, happy, right?" Beatrice hadn't thought it like that, she had to admit. No matter what she did, mope or perform, her mother was dead, and nothing was going to change that. Beatrice picked the head up from her lap and put it on, completing the costume. She stood up, as did Casey, and then hug her tightly, thanking her. Casey just hugged her back, best she could in that bulky costume, and told her it wasn't a problem at all. "Everyone was worried and wanted to help," Casey said, "just...nobody knew how." "How did you?" Bea asked. "Guess being so disconnected from the world helps you see it clearer," Casey said, shrugging, "I'm not gonna feed you some sugar coated bullshit about how your mom is in some great place now, because really, that's insulting. Oh, the place she went to after death is better? How? Her child isn't in it. Her husband isn't it it. Doesn't sound too great to me, frankly. Now, be a good dog, and go do your tricks." Beatrice laughed, nodded, and headed out of the trailer. Casey stood there in the doorway, finishing her beer, and smirked to herself. Of all the people to come to the rescue, they all had to admit, Casey was last on their list. Turns out everyone is good at something. *** 3 WEEKS LATER "I'm going," Michelle said, knocking on Bea's office door. Beatrice looked up from her desk and smiled, gesturing for her to come inside, which she did. As Michelle took a seat on the opposite side of the desk, she asked, "everything okay?" "More than okay," Bea said, "I mean, I'm still very sad, but I'm dealing with it. Anyway, that isn't why I wanted you to come in. I just wanted you to know that next season, production is gonna be a bit different. We're gonna hire more people, so we don't have to solely rely on you, Eliza and Casey for almost everything. You all deserve a bit of a break." "I'm fine with that," Michelle said, "anything else?" "You doing anything tonight?" Bea asked. "Eliza and I are going to dinner," Michelle said, "then we'll probably go to her dads and build some trains together. Nothing too exciting, but it's good, cause we don't really need excitement. I'll see you when I see you, Bea. Have a good weekend." With that, Michelle stood up and exited, leaving Michelle there alone. Liam was the last one to leave, and soon enough it was just Beatrice alone at the studio. She told Leslie she'd be home before 9pm, and here it was, almost 9. She figured she should call and let her know she'd be a tiny bit late. Beatrice picked up her cell phone, but it was dead. She sighed. Beatrice picked up her landline and dialed, getting the machine, so she left a message. She had told Stephanie that she'd help get these budgetary balances figured out before the weekend, and she was almost done, but her stomach was hurting. She could use a snack. Beatrice stood up, pulled her jacket on and headed out of the studio. Just outside was a small cart that was open late, so she ordered some nachos and a drink, then sat down at one of the tables on the patio where employees usually had lunch and munched on her treats. After a minute she heard the sound of a bike approaching the table, and turned to see a young girl, probably about 11, pulling her helmet off. "Hello," Bea said, "can I help you?" "H...hi," the girl said, "can I sit down?" "Of course," Bea said, patting the seat beside her. The girl set her bike against the table, placed her helmet on it and sat down. Bea pushed her thing of nachos towards her, but the girl declined. Bea shrugged and asked, "are you lost? Do you need help?" "I wanted to go to your show, but we couldn't afford it," the girl said, "so I...I looked up where you worked and thought I'd ride over here. I didn't actually think I'd find you." "Well, you did," Bea said, smiling warmly, "do you want anything? An autograph, a selfie?" The girl looked embarrassed, and glanced away. After a moment, she spoke again. "I don't wanna grow up, can you make that happen?" she asked, taking Bea by surprise; she elaborated, "I'm gonna be in all honors classes next year, I'm one of the top students at my school, and so I'll be around all these other smart kids. But they...they all dress like tiny grown ups. They read big books. I can do the same, I just don't want to. I like being a kid. You make me feel like it's okay to continue being a kid, cause you're an adult and look at what you do for a living." "It's absolutely okay to be a kid," Beatrice said, "don't ever let someone convince you otherwise. I was like you, when I was little. I was a very smart girl, and I read a lot and I spent almost all my free time with my parents cause they didn't expect me to behave the way my peers would've. You're not alone in how you feel, I promise. Are you sure you don't want a snack or a...a piece of merch or anything? An autograph?" The girl shook her head. "I already got what I wanted," she said, smiling, making Bea smile too. So Bea and the girl sat there, and they talked about her schooling and other interests and hobbies. Bea told her how she came to be the dog she knew on TV, and the girl shared with Bea her hopeful eventual career plans. In a way, Casey was right. Beatrice was a parent, whether she meant to be or not, to all those kids who needed someone but didn't either have someone or want to approach their own parents for whatever reason. And that was all Beatrice wanted, really, was for no child to feel alone. She'd never really felt alone, and she wanted every child to have that level of dedication in their adolescence from the adults around them. They deserved that much, and so much more. Every person she'd hired had, in some way, helped her learn how to be an even better person, it seemed. Michelle's illness taught her how to approach life with gusto again. Eliza's loss taught her how to cope with her own, and process it even if in albeit somewhat unhealthy ways. And Casey's outright refusal to bend to the worldviews of others taught her that sometimes you just need to do what you have to, whether you want to or not. And now this little girl, this girls disinterest in growing up taught her that it was okay to always be a child on the inside. She really knew how to pick 'em. It was funny, Bea thought, for being the one who was meant to be the teacher, she was the one being taught.
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"Imagine children getting to meet their idol," Beatrice said, "they get to talk to Bea, ask her questions, get their photo taken. That's all the after event. First we put on a show, and then we have the meet and greet. That's what I want to do. So many children never get to meet their heroes, those who push them to strive for greatness, and I think that's unfair. I don't wanna be distant. I wanna be in their lives. A force of good."
Liam, Steph, Michelle, Casey and Eliza were seated in the meeting room as Beatrice explained her plan, but none of them, truth be told, were sold on it at all. Course, nobody wanted to be the one who said that. "I realize that we're already a force of good, just by being on the air for them, but we can do more. I wanna do more," Bea continued, "because...because some children don't have parents. Some children had bad parents. Some childrens parents die. I want to create an open line of communication, and this is the first step in that direction, I think. No child should feel alone and scared and confused." "I don't disagree," Steph said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, "but I don't necessarily agree that this is the best way of going about it." "A live show is a lot of work, Bea," Liam said, "are you sure you're up for that sort of engagement? Dedication?" "When aren't I?" Bea asked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. She had a point, she was always up for whatever it took, and nobody could argue that claim no matter what they had to say in response. Bea sighed and shook her head slightly, tossing her bangs from her face, adding, "look, I know it's a lot of work, but it's...it's important to me and these sorts of things are good for what we do. Almost every popular childrens brand has, at one time or another, done a live show of some kind. I hate to use marketing terms, but it 'grows the brand', and so from your perspective, Steph, that's a good thing." "I'm not all about money, you know," Steph replied, sounding hurt, "I appreciate the artistry that goes into what you and everyone else on the network does. I don't have a money boner." "Money Boner is my favorite punk rock song," Casey interjected, making Michelle laugh, which in turn made Casey blush. "I just think there's others factors to consider here. We'd have to put the show on hold while we do this," Steph said, "unless you have that many shows in the hopper." "Our finale is coming up in a few weeks, we start preparations now, then we announce it once the finale is out, then that gives children something to look forward to in the interim while they wait for new episodes," Bea said, "it isn't rocket science, you guys, it's simple economics. We give kids what they deserve, and we continue to make money even while not producing actual content. Not that live shows aren't actual content, but you know what I mean." Once again, nobody could argue with this. Beatrice had clearly done her homework. "I'll run it up the ladder," Steph said half heartedly. "Aren't you top rung?" Casey asked, sipping on her soda. "...yes," Steph replied, before briskly gathering her things and leaving the room. "Weird lady," Casey said upon Steph's exit, shaking her head. *** Keagan was walking through the hall with Serena under her arm, heading for the set department, hoping to run into Michelle, unaware that she was in a meeting. She had already checked The Hole and, upon realizing Eliza wasn't there, figured they must be in the set department, which was why she was headed there now. As she passed by a small group of well dressed white women, she heard them lower their voices, but couldn't make out what they were saying. She figured it was best to ignore it. Keagan pushed open the doors to the set department and looked around, then sighed when it slowly dawned on her that neither Michelle nor Eliza were here. Thankfully, however, her gaze caught sight of Liam, of all people. Liam had left the meeting shortly after Steph, and decided to hang out in the set department doing behind the scenes design management. Keagan approached him and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to turn to face her and jolt back a little upon seeing Serena. "Wow," he said, "that's uncanny." "What, do all puppets look the same to you?" Keagan asked, making him chuckle; she then asked, "where's Michelle? Where's Eliza? Where is everyone?" "We had an impromptu meeting," Liam said, sipping his coffee and adjusting his glasses, "Michelle and Eliza probably went to lunch afterwards. Why?" "I just wanted Michelle to actually see the puppet Eliza and I came up with," Keagan said, sighing, leaning against the stage and looking at Serena's face, adding, "...sometimes it feels like I don't even matter. Like everyone else is so much more important to the production than I am, like I'm just here cause I helped Michelle track you guys down." "Hey," Liam said, leaning beside her and touching her shoulder, "you're important, Keagan. Don't think like that. Everyone who works here works here because Beatrice saw their importance, and you're certainly on the ground floor of that. Keep in mind we wouldn't even be here without you and Michelle. You guys are a team, even if she has Eliza these days." "I guess," Keagan said, "it's just hard to feel that way when I'm not even invited to meetings and stuff. I feel so...ancillary." "Yeah, well, that's what a lifetime with Bea is like," Liam said, which cause Keagan to raise an eyebrow. She'd rarely heard Liam speak ill of Bea, and even then, when he did, she could still feel the love behind his statement. Whatever it was he was suggesting, he didn't mean anything mean with it, she knew that much. Liam added, "listen, if I see either of them before you do, I'll let them know you're looking for them. Until then, you wanna stick around here and help me figure out some set work?" "Sure, that sounds fun," Keagan said, grinning. At least, if nothing else, Liam always had her back. *** "You don't really think it's a good idea, do you?" Michelle asked, sipping her soup across from Eliza at their usual luncheon spot. "I don't, but not for the reasons you might think," Eliza said, "cause, uh, one might assume that I'm against it because of the strenous aspects putting on such a live show would be, but that isn't the case. I think she's only doing it as a reaction to the grief of losing her mom. I know because when I lost my mom, I did a lot of stupid stuff too cause I thought they were good ideas since I was clouded with loss, blinded by grief." "Like what?" Michelle asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin and setting her spoon down in her bowl. "Well," Eliza said, clearing her throat, "for a while, and this is so dumb I know but...I used to go to loss groups, for parents who, like, had lost children, and I would pretend that each of the women speaking there were my mom, and were talking about me. I needed to put it into perspective from her side, like, what if she had survived and I hadn't. I know it's really sick, but..." "It's not sick," Michelle said, shaking her head, "you're not sick, sweetie, that's...you said it yourself, you do things that don't really make sense in hindsight after such a great loss. Bea was close with her parents, she's just going through the shit, you know? Same as you were. The difference is, you know how to better channel your emotions into your work, while Bea tries but just lets her emotions take over her work. That's the innate difference between you two." Eliza smiled, looking down at her hands. "I think," she said, "you're the first person to ever told me I'm not sick, other than Beatrice, and my dad, and my dad only said it after the accident because he didn't want me blaming myself. I don't know that I really believes he believes that. Beatrice I believe. You I really believe. Thank you." Michelle smiled back. It was weird, she thought, being in a relationship since she'd never planned on being in one. Actually taking the time to know someone, comfort them when they needed it, boost their self esteem back up. And it wasn't one sided. Anytime Michelle felt distraught and turned to Eliza for help, Eliza returned it threefold. It was a fully functioning, well oiled machine they had built, and she wouldn't give it up for anything else in the world. But it was still strange. Michelle hadn't seen her parents interact much before her father left, so she simply never had any real idea of what a healthy relationship looked like. And yet...and yet she knew she was better at it, far better at it at that, than her mother ever could be, and that was consolation enough. Michelle got out from her side of the booth and slid in beside Eliza, who looked surprised but bit her lip happily. Michelle put her hands on Eliza's face and leaned in, pressing her lips to hers and kissing her, Eliza happily kissing her back. Public displays of affection be damned, they were both just so happy to have one another after a lifetime of having virtually nobody, and they didn't care who knew it. *** Beatrice was sitting at her desk, her feet up on the desk as she tapped her pen against her leg. Her office door opened and Casey slinked inside, shutting the door behind her as she did. Bea looked up at her and smiled weakly, acknowledging her presence as Casey pulled a chair around to the front of the desk and sat down on it the opposite direction. "What are you, a hip pastoral youth counselor?" Bea asked, making Casey chuckle. "Kids, lemme tell you about my boy, JC," she replied, making Bea laugh loudly before she continued with, "actually I just wanted to talk to you about, you know, the live show and all that stuff and...and just see how you were doing. Cause, like, it seems like a lot of work, but, ya know, it's probably worth it. I'm definitely on your side. I don't know why Steph is being such a stick in the mud." "She has a budget to think about. I can't really dismiss her concerns," Beatrice said, "she has an entire streaming network at her disposal to watch over, we aren't the primary thing they produce. We're just one of the more popular ones." "And shouldn't that popularity alone warrant getting what you want? Otherwise what's the point of fame if it can't get you something?" Casey asked. Bea smirked and sat upright in her chair, tossing her pen on the desk. "I like the way you think," Bea said. "Well," Casey said, "I just...I don't see the purpose of driving up subscriber numbers for someone elses service if they won't give you what you want in return. It has to be a mutually beneficial relationship. This feels parasocial, ya know? That shit isn't right." Beatrice nodded, taking in what Casey was saying, knowing full well she was right. She was one of the leading programs on the network, she had every right to demand something now and then. "You can't...you can't bring in millions of dollars and not be compensated," Casey said, "and...and having the ability to continue to make your work isn't the compensation. It's just one part of it. They have to give you more. They have to. You're worth that. This whole fucking thing is worth that. So, if you wanna put on a live show...I wanna help. When I was in high school I roadied for my friends band, and I know a lot about that kind of stuff and I know it isn't the same but...but I wanna help." "...thank you, Casey," Beatrice said, "you're right. And I'd be so glad to have you on the team. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go have some words with Stephanie." *** Liam had left for the day, citing a doctors appointment, which meant Keagan now had no companionship in the set department if only because she didn't know anybody else on a personal level. But she simply continued doing the things that he had left her in charge to do, Serena laying on the stage beside her as she sculpted and painted and did whatever it was she could. While she was cutting something, she heard a woman approach the stage and look at Serena. Keagan's eyes turned towards her, instantly recognizing her as one of the women from the hall before. "Is this your puppet?" she asked. "Well, they asked me to help design a puppet to represent the African American community, ya know for any black kids who might be watching, so kind of?" Keagan replied, laughing weakly. "You don't think it's...too black?" the woman asked, and this caught Keagan off guard. She set down her tools. "Too black?" she asked. "You know what I mean, like, it looks like it came from the inner city," the woman replied, "I'm just, I work for the marketing department and I can tell you right now that trying to sell this character isn't going to be easy. White audiences, and let's be honest our audience is predominantly white, don't mind black characters on the condition that they seem white. That they come from well to do families. This is why shows with well off, good natured black families do so much better than ones that feature the opposite." Keagan couldn't believe what she was hearing. She turned her attention fully, now, to the woman. "Let me ask you something," Keagan said, "do you also believe one can be too white? You know, wearing polo shirts and eating at kitschy chain restaurants where they hang ridiculous bullshit on the wall, and only listening to the most musically disinteresting band one can find? Because, surely, if that exists for one group it exists for every group." "Well of course, no one's gonna argue that," the woman said, "but that doesn't matter, because white audiences don't mind that. They revel in that type of second hand self degrading caricature." "The fuck they do," Keagan replied, "they can't handle being portrayed as anything other than perfection. We don't get that option. If we're not white enough, we're too black. There's no fuckin' middle of the road for us, because almost all of our characters are created and written by white folk. You don't see the level of unfairness between those two things?" "I'm not here to argue race relations," the woman said sternly, "I'm simply telling you, from a marketing perspective, that trying to sell this puppet as a character, and any potential merchandise attached to it, will be very very difficult." "I don't exist to make the market easier for you," Keagan said, finally sliding off the stage and standing firmly before the marketing executive, adding, "and neither does this fuckin' puppet, alright? We're people, not merchandise, and that can be said for any character of any race, but especially for those who are often deemed a potential threat to your investor more than others." That's when Keagan glanced around, her eyes darting across the room, realizing everyone was watching them, almost as if they were expecting her to attack this woman like the stereotype would be expected of her. She unclenched her hands, trying to let the anger leave her, refusing to fall into their perspective trap of her people. The woman just smiled smugly, then turned to leave when suddenly she felt a fist connect with her jaw and she stumbled back against the stage, clenching her face. Standing behind her was Casey, of all people, nursing her hand, leaving Keagan in shock. The woman was helped up by a few people and left the area, leaving Keagan and Casey alone together, amidst the remaining crew. "Wow," Keagan said. "Sorry, that was real white saviory of me," Casey said. "No, no, I prefer you did it," Keagan said, "if I did that I'd be sued and fired. All you're gonna get is a mild talk from HR." Casey laughed, and Keagan laughed in response. Neither one felt like the fit in, but perhaps that's where the best friendships blossom. Keagan climbed back on stage to continue her work, and Casey offered to help. Maybe the outcasts could benefit from one anothers company. Besides, whether they were African American or a drug addict, they were each a looked down upon minority, and they weren't about to turn away potential defenders. *** Beatrice found Stephanie in her office, unsurprisingly, doing, also unsurprisingly, paperwork. As she entered, she shut the door behind her, the sound of which caused Steph to look up from her desk and sigh. She shook her head as Bea sat down on the desk and watched her work. "Rough day?" she asked. "Every day is a rough day," Steph said, "what do you want now? I have to have all this budgeting done by this weekend and I-" "I want you to acknowledge what I've given you," Bea said coldly, catching Steph off guard; she continued, "I want you to recognize the success what I created has brought to your network, and give me something in return. Let me put on this live show. It'll be good for the downtime in production, bring in so much extra money, good PR, all that crap you executives love." Steph set her pen down and folded her arms on the desk. "And if I say no?" she asked, "provided the answer is even up to me?" "If you say no then I suppose I will just have to live with that decision, but I'll also be aware of how little I'm valued, and that might change how much effort I put into what I do from hereon out," Beatrice said, making Steph smile wide. "You know what I like about you, Bea," Steph said, "you refuse to be beaten. Anytime something comes up, you rail against it until you win. Your show gets taken from you? You bring it back. You get publicly outed? You embrace it. Your friend almost dies from a medical condition? You donate an organ. That's...that's a level of commitment one has to admire. It also shows how absolutely deranged you are, but it's admirable nonetheless." Beatrice laughed at this half insult, knowing Stephanie didn't fully well mean it to be cruel. "...I have to talk to the budgeting team, the marketing team, all that stuff, but it should be manageable," Steph said, "you're right, you've given us alot and all you're doing is trying to give us, and the kids, more. That's, again, admirable. I don't wanna tell you what you can and cannot do, I don't wanna be what Liam used to be to you. My entire intention, from the very beginning, has been to help you, okay? We just...sometimes we need to find a middle ground. Compromise isn't giving up something you want, it's accepting that you can get part of what you want by not getting all of it. I'm just asking you to compromise with me, Bea." Beatrice and Steph locked eyes momentarily, and Bea nodded. "Fine," she said, "but you know what they say, a good compromise always leaves both parties mad." "Wouldn't be showbusiness if we weren't both wildly disappointed," Steph replied, shaking Bea's hand, both women chuckling. *** Delores was seeing Justine that night, so when Michelle and Eliza arrived back at the house, they knew they had the place to themselves, even if only for a bit. Both were extremely tired and so they opted, instead of doing anything else, to lay upstairs in Michelle's makeshift bedroom. Michelle was laying beside Eliza, spooning her, breathing in the scent of her hair, and thinking about the meeting. After a few minutes, she spoke softly. "I feel jealous when Beatrice gives things to others," Michelle said. "I know what you mean, our attachment feels so personal that it's hard not to," Eliza responded, not opening her eyes, "but she isn't just ours. She's everyones." "I know, that's the thing I have to remind myself of," Michelle said, "Besides, what she's already given us is so much more than whatever she could ever give to someone else." "It's true," Michelle said, as Eliza rolled over to face her; Michelle smiled and pushed Eliza's hair from her face, "she gave me you, after all." Eliza blushed as Michelle kissed her, and together they lay there, in the dark and the quiet. It was something they all, even Beatrice, eventually had to acknowledge, which was that Bea and the character of Beatrice Beagle, were not the same. And while the world got the character, they got the woman who played her, and that was worth so much more. Michelle wasn't a writer, nor was Eliza. In fact, the only person in this room who was a writer, in all technicality, was Beatrice. Yet, she'd pulled Michelle and Eliza into the writers room with her, then locked the door. She'd ordered pizza, gotten drinks, and told them they wouldn't be leaving until they helped her write this episode. Sitting at the large table while Beatrice paced, eating a slice of pizza, Michelle couldn't help but glance over at Eliza, who looked as uncomfortable as she ever had seen her look.
"I wanna present this in as straight forward a manner as possible," Bea finally said, finishing her slice, crust and all, and wiping her hands on a napkin sitting on the table; she continued, "That's the whole idea of childrens entertainment, simplistic but not insulting. Talking to them at their level, not under their level, insinuating they can't understand complex concepts simply because they're younger. Children are far more intuitive than we give them credit for being." "That's all very true," Michelle said, "but I don't...I don't know what to really say that hasn't already been said by a million other childrens shows." "That's the challenge, though," Bea said, "is to come up with saying something that's been said but in a new way. A way that hasn't been approached yet. Because, let's face it, everyone has told kids that their loved ones are somewhere in the sky, watching over them. That they still exist in some way or another. But you don't wanna be the show that outright tells them that's bullshit. You don't want to diminish a childs hope. But to sugarcoat it with such fairytale bullshit...that's almost as bad." Eliza groaned, chewing on her nails. This was something she did when she was particularly anxious, a habit Michelle had become all but far too familiar with. "To be perfectly honest," Michelle said, "I don't know what it is I'm doing in here other than providing emotional support. I just hate my mom, she's not dead. Dead to me, maybe, but not actually dead." "That's what gives us perspective," Bea said, pacing around the table, "we can't just be coming from the place of having dead mothers. We need variation." "Oh, well, let me just go call her and ask when she plans on dropping dead," Michelle said, rather angrily. Bea stopped walking and looked at Michelle, but not angrily, more like with sorrow on her face. Michelle felt bad. She whispered 'sorry' before looking down at her feet. Beatrice just exhaled and shook her head before looking at Eliza. "What did you think, when your mom died?" Bea asked. "That it was my fault," Eliza said, "but that guilt isn't really something that I, ya know, wanna pass onto others. That's not healthy." "I meant more like...do you believe in Heaven or anything?" Bea asked, picking up another slice. "I guess I..." Eliza started, trailing off, thinking, before continuing, "I guess I don't really believe in Heaven, exactly, but...like...energy. You know how even after someone leaves a room, goes back home or whatever, you can still kinda sense them? Their presence was so strong that it left a mark? That's kinda what I believe in. The energy of the person is still here." "That's really beautiful," Bea said, "but I'm not sure it's comforting, exactly. Also kids don't really get metaphysical stuff like that." "You just said not to talk down to them," Michelle interrupted. "I know, I know, but I do have to be aware of their level of perception," Bea remarked, "Something like what Eliza said is beautiful, don't get me wrong - and let's face it, likely the most scientifically accurate as well - but it's just not something that children the age of our viewership would really be able to grasp. We need something a bit easier for them to understand." Michelle groaned, threw her head back and stood up. She excused herself, saying she was going to the bathroom, when in reality, as soon as she got outside the room, she headed straight for the smoking porch out back. Not because she smoked, she didn't, but because she knew it was the last place anyone would think to look for her. Once outside, she sighed and shut her eyes, leaning against the wall. "Rough day?" Casey asked, surprising her. "God, don't do that," Michelle replied, hand to her chest, catching her breath. Casey laughed and stubbed out the end of her cigarette. "You alright?" Casey asked, sitting down on a table nearby. "I...don't know," Michelle said, "...you hate your mom, right?" "I think you know the answer to that." "Do you wish she were dead?" "....yeah, I do," Casey said, "I know that's harsh, but when someone who's supposed to love and protect you does the exact opposite - puts you in harms way, especially for monetary gain - then they're no longer viable for remorse. So yeah I wish she were dead. It would make my life, and possible recovery, all the easier. Why?" Michelle walked to the table and seated herself as well, looking at her nails. "Let's pretend we both had good relationships with our moms," Michelle said, "what would feel if she died? What do you believe in? What happens, where she goes, whatever. All that nonsense." Casey had never really considered a situation wherein she and her mother liked one another, nor had she really considered her personal religious beliefs, particularly because she didn't really have any. Her family had never gone to church, and she'd never felt one ounce of pull towards a religion of any kind. In all honesty, she'd just kinda ignored the concept altogether. But now, being asked to confront both, in one theoretical happening, it made her wonder what she would feel or think. "I guess," Casey said, "if my mom and I had a good relationship, and she died, I would probably just...accept the fact that she loved me while she was here, and the fact that she isn't here now can never take that away. Love is an idea, right? It's a concept. A person might go away, but their ideas never do. They're spread to others. Things like racism and homophobia are taught. Things like love are taught. If she loved me while she was here, that's what I would focus on. She would, in essence, become that love, whether she was here physically or not anymore." Michelle nodded slowly, feeling her eyes tear up. That was...surprisingly beautiful, and certainly not the kind of thing she'd expected from someone like Casey, who didn't exactly strike her as the deep, emotional kind. "I like that," Michelle said, nodding slowly, "I do. That's...very simple, very easy to understand, very pretty. I like that a lot." Michelle stood up and began to head back inside, before turning and looking back at Casey. She wanted to invite her in, get her input heard, but she knew that wasn't really her decision. This was Beatrice's moment. Working through her grief, her loss, and she wanted only Michelle and Eliza there with her. She sighed, continued back inside and headed back to the office. When she re-entered the room, she found Beatrice laying on her back on the table by the pizza box, with Eliza sitting in her chair, her knees pulled to her chest. "Did I miss something?" Michelle asked. "What's the point," Bea said, "why even try to make sense of it, when it doesn't make sense to begin with. The big questions about things like death...eventually you run out of answers. A child keeps asking 'why' and you stop having things to respond with, because we don't know why. We don't know anything or everything. So why even bother trying to make sense of it, explain it, when it's so clearly unexplainable?" "The pain isn't though, and that's what should be focused on," Michelle said, standing behind Eliza, massaging her shoulders, relaxing her, feeling her anxiety melt away with each touch, "that's what children need help with. They understand loss. That makes sense. What was here isn't here now. Very simple. What isn't simple is trying to figure out how to feel about it. Some kids might feel too much and be punished for it, others might not feel a thing and be punished for it. But there's no wrong way to grieve, and no right way either. They need to be told that however they feel is normal, because it's what they're feeling." Beatrice sat up and looked at Michelle, furrowing her brow. "...holy shit you're right," Bea said, "...you're absolutely right. The concept of loss isn't new to them. That's inherent. That's what object permanance is all about. It's something they learn from the moment they're born. They act badly and a favorite toy gets taken away. They understand loss. They don't understand that there are multiple appropriate ways to respond to it." Bea climbed down from the table and let her hair down, looking at Eliza. "You felt guilty, right? Even though you knew it wasn't your fault," Bea said, "and even if it isn't your fault, you have every right to feel guilty because it's how you felt. You can't change the things you feel. The ways you react to things. How do you feel now, though, Eliza? With a little bit of time and distance between the incident and this moment?" Eliza looked away from Bea and up at Michelle, who just smiled and patted her on the head. "I...I guess," Eliza said, "I guess now I just feel glad she was my mom to begin with. Even if we were different, even if we had arguments and disagreements and...and even if we didn't get along all the time, I know she wanted me to be my best, and to be okay, and to be happy. I'm glad she was here, and that she was mine." Beatrice grinned and looked at Michelle. "Love," Michelle said, echoing Casey's sentiment, "is the one thing loss can't take away from us. The person might be gone, but the way they felt about us never is, and that's what we can hold fast to in the toughest moments. That's the lesson to be taught here. That's the sentiment you need to push." Beatrice nodded, then hugged Eliza, and then hugged Michelle. She then exited the room, without saying a word. Michelle sat back down in the chair across from Eliza, and scooted towards her. She reached out, and Eliza gave her her hands. Michelle took them gingerly, and kissed them, making Eliza blush. "Are you okay?" Michelle asked, "This was...kind of intense, I'm not gonna lie." "...it's okay to feel nothing?" Eliza asked, and Michelle nodded. "Of course it is! Why?" "Because that's how I feel a lot of the time," Eliza said, "I mean, not just about my mom, but about everything. The only time I ever feel anything else is when I'm with you. You make me feel happy. Or, whatever happiness feels like, I guess. When I was growing up, I had this special teacher who taught me emotions on a chart, like, what peoples faces look like when they feel certain ways. I still look to it from time to time to make sense of the people around me. But with you...I always know how you're feeling, and that makes me feel good. To understand another person enough to not need the chart, makes me feel special." "You are special, sweetheart," Michelle whispered, kissing Eliza's hands again, making her blush. "I guess...and I hope you don't take this weird," Eliza said, "in some kind of way, this relationship is almost maternal. Does that make sense? I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable." "I'm happy to be useful in whatever capacity you need in that moment," Michelle replied, "if that's sometimes romantic and sometimes maternal, that's perfectly fine. I love you. I just wanna keep you happy and comfortable." Eliza slid off her own chair and climbed into Michelle's, cozying up on her lap best she could given the space provided, making Michelle laugh. Neither one had ever had a relationship before this, and yet they both knew they didn't want a relationship after. All they wanted was each other. Beatrice would go to her office for the day, and she would write the script. She would take everything that Michelle and Eliza, and unknowingly Casey, had offered and she would turn it into a heartfelt confession about emotions and love that any child could easily comprehend and learn from. And when she was done with it, she would drop it off with Liam for him to check over, and then she would go home. When she arrived, she would find Leslie already making dinner. Beatrice would say hello to her, give her a hug and then adjourn to her home office. Once inside, she would lock the door, and she would sit in the center of the room on the floor. The entire day, ever since her mother had passed only 48 hours prior actually, all she'd managed to think about was how to present this through her work. That was how she processed things. She did it through the puppetry that was Beatrice Beagle. But now...now she was home again. Now she didn't have to work. Now Beatrice, the facade, could melt away and she could be Amelia once more. And it was in that moment that she finally let herself fall apart. She fell onto her side on the floor, hugged herself and sobbed. Even though she wrote this script, she didn't believe any of it. How could she? She'd never been one to cope with loss well. First her dog, then Claire, then her mother. She didn't know how to manage. The fact that she somehow hadn't lost Michelle during her recent health scare was a shocker, and she wa grateful for not having to work through that as well. A few hours later, when she would join Leslie in the living room as she watched game shows at half attention, Bea would nuzzle up against her on the couch without saying a word. Leslie would wrap her arms around her and pull her close, stroking her hair. "How was your day?" Leslie asked as she raised her drink to her lips with her free hand and sipped. "Fine," Bea would reply, before burying her face against Leslie's sweater and speak, muffled, "my mom is dead." "I know," Leslie replied quietly, still petting her head, "I know. That's the one bad thing about moms. They die." Beatrice never allowed herself to grieve her dog. She'd never allowed herself to grieve Claire. Instead she'd always soldiered onwards. But this time, after she'd done her usual coping process of getting her thoughts out via her work, she finally allowed herself to grieve for her mother, because she knew it wasn't healthy to not do so. Seemed like just a week ago she was a little girl, going to the library with her mom, learning and playing and discovering. And now her mom was dead. And no amount of childrens show saccharine could take away the ugliness of the reality of the world. The world didn't care that these people were our mothers. They died anyway. And one day Bea would die too. Perhaps that's what she was really mourning. Her own mortality. With her mother gone, it pushed her closer to the top of the list, and that scared her. She still had so much to do. But she'd do it tomorrow. Tonight... ...tonight she grieved her mother. |
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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