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.
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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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