The sun peaked through the slit blinds of Leslie Swann's bedroom, splashing onto her face, making her skin warm ever so slightly. She rolled over, stretching and yawning, half her face hidden by her long bouncy hair, until she smiled, seeing Beatrice lying in bed beside her. Bea smiled back at her, reaching out and pushing Leslie's hair back behind her ear.
"When my husband and I split, after the miscarriage, I never thought I'd feel this safe in a bedroom again," Leslie said, speaking softly, "...amazing how things can change if you give them the chance." "I'm not used to being with others," Bea said, "I'm...it makes me almost...scared." "You don't have to be scared," Leslie said, "I know it's scary, but you never have to be scared with me. I always admired you. I was so touched when you asked if I would come on board, I couldn't believe it. And then that night..." Bea smiled again as Leslie wiggled closer and kissed her. After it broke, Leslie rolled back over and sighed. "People were right," Beatrice said, "It IS easy to bed women when you're famous." Leslie couldn't help it, she broke out in contagious laughter, making Bea laugh too. It was a good morning. *** Eliza spun around in her chair, holding up a small train, making Michelle smile. "Do you wanna do the honors?" Eliza asked, and Michelle nodded, getting up from the chair and walking to the table where Eliza attached the train to the rest of the line and then stepped back, pointing at the table, adding, "on the side there, you'll see a switch, just flick it and the whole thing will turn on." "Okay," Michelle said, fiddling around with her fingers until she finally found the switch and flicked it, the whole table coming to life; the streetlamps flickering on, the train beginning to whistle as it took off around the track that surrounded the cute little town Eliza had built. Michelle stepped back beside Eliza and admired it, hands on her hips. "This is what God must feel like," Michelle said, making Eliza scoff. "God doesn't see the beauty in what's made, to him creation is nothing more than an assembly line, churning out things quick and cheaply, hoping nobody will notice the shoddy craftsmanship," Eliza said, "...I'm way more invested than God in what I bring to life." Michelle laughed, just as Eliza's father opened the bedroom door and looked inside. "Uh, girls, you have a phone call," he said, "They're asking to talk to either one of you." Eliza and Michelle glanced at one another, then Eliza shrugged and went back to the table, leaving Michelle to take the cordless phone Don handed her. Michelle graciously took it from him, mouthing 'thank you' as he smiled at her and exited. She lifted the phone to ear. "Hello?" she asked, "Hi Bea. Yeah, I'm with Eliza right now." Eliza stopped looking at her train set and looked back at Michelle, one eyebrow raised now. "Okay, we'll be there shortly," Michelle said, before hanging up and looking at Eliza, adding, "That was Beatrice. She wants us to meet here somewhere." *** The show had been airing for a few weeks now, and the reviews were absolutely spectacular. Beatrice herself was called a "savant" by many, and one very kind write up even went so far as to state that she truly understood the child mindset, making her a remarkable asset to their developmental abilities. These reviews certainly made Beatrice feel good, better than she had in months actually, but she still preferred to stay out of the limelight and let Liam deal anything press wise. Liam, however, also didn't seem to enjoy his newfound responsibility to talk to the press, but he did it out of respect for Bea. Sitting in his office at the network, typing away something on his keyboard, he heard a knock on the door and looked up, only to see Stephanie standing there, grinning at him as he looked up at her and adjusted his oval glasses. "Hi," she said, "Am I interrupting?" "I fuckin' wish," Liam said, making her chuckle as she cautiously entered the room, clearly somewhat nervous about something. She folded her arms as she began to pace in his office. "Um...so," Stephanie said, "The show is a wild success, as we all know now. So we should talk about our next move. Obviously we still have a handful of episodes left to air this season, but we should talk about next season, and even potentially additional seasons beyond that, and also merchandising." "Bea's not gonna go for merchandising," Liam said. "I'm aware of that, which is partially why I'm here," Stephanie said, "You're her best friend, her closest creative ally, and I think you-" "No," Liam said sternly, "I already screwed up my friendship with her once, and nearly lost her for good. I...I was responsible for her losing faith in the creative industry and essentially shuttering herself away from the world for like 20 years. I can't...no, Stephanie, I can't be responsible for that again, I refuse." "We just need to have the conversation. It doesn't have to go anywhere. The higherups are pushing me to at least talk with her about this," Stephanie said. "The higherups? You run this place!" Liam said. "I have bosses, everyone has a boss," Stephanie said, "I just...please, talk to her." "I...if I do, you have to promise it can't go anywhere," Liam said, "As you said, we'll simply have the conversation, and leave it at a mutual disagreement, unable to meet a ground where everyone is happy. Stephanie, I understand where you're coming from, I do. I handled all the business stuff in the past for her, and she's essentially saddling me with it again this round, but I..." Liam leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his thinning hair, sighing deeply. "...Bea and I go back a long way, and we have a very...complex and strange and often times strained relationship, and I will never do anything to remotely jeopardize that again. We're already getting inundated with offers from toy companies and such that I have to sift through and either outright deny or potentially approve, and only once I run the potential approvals by her. A few weeks ago, she drove me out to her parents house, and after seeing what I saw there, I simply cannot morally allow any further bastardization of something so deeply personal and important to her." This remark piqued Stephanie's curiosity, as she seated herself on the edge of Liam's desk. "What do you mean?" she asked. "It's not really my place to expand upon it, honestly," Liam said, "maybe she'll tell you someday. All I'll say is this...if you try and make something out of Beatrice Beagle beyond her comfort zone, you'll be actively attacking a part of herself. This dog...is not just a character to Bea." Stephanie left Liam's office shortly after this discussion, all the more curious about Bea's past. She figured she'd approach Bea about it next time she saw her, and until then, well, she'd just let sleeping dogs lay. *** Michelle, driving with Eliza in the passenger seat, was curious why Bea wanted to meet with them. Eliza adjusted the air conditioner to blow directly on her face, and shut her eyes, enjoying it as her hair blew back. Michelle couldn't help but smile at appreciating such simplicity. After a few moments, Eliza looked at Michelle and adjusted her big glasses. "Um," Eliza said, "...can I ask you a question?" "Of course," Michelle said happily. "Beatrice is sort of like...a parent to you, in some way, right?" Eliza asked. "Beatrice isn't like a parent, she's...it's hard to explain. She's kind of like...my conscience, in a way," Michelle said, "Beatrice Beagle, the character, showed me how to like myself and how to be happy when I was a sick little girl. She often felt like the only friend I had. I understand parasocial relationships aren't healthy, but at the same time, what kind of relationship is? I mean they're all variations, right? No relationship is 100% healthy." "This isn't parasocial," Eliza said, chewing on her necklace, "You actually know Beatrice." "I do, but...at the same time, it's a very broad generalized knowing, you know what I mean? I do know her, but not in the same way that Liam, or even you, knows her. You know her extremely well," Michelle said, "and over time we will get to know one another better and better, but, right now..." Eliza nodded, looking at her glittery nails and sighing. "Can I tell you a secret?" Eliza asked. "Always." "After my mom died, I used to pretend Bea was my mom. In my head, I mean. I would, uh, go into these maladaptive daydreams and fantasize about what it'd be like if Bea was my mom. Beatrice was always so comforting, and so trusting, and she always believed in me and my skills. My mom loved me, I can't deny that, but she did sometimes make remarks that I could've done more. My mom wanted me to reach for something I couldn't grab, but Bea was just happy with what I was able to hold at all." Michelle smiled, tears swelling in her eyes. "I don't know. That level of acceptance is, to me, far better," Eliza said, "No expectations, just joyous respect." As the car pulled up to a stop at a storage unit, they saw Leslie standing outside, waving at them. They hadn't expected to see her here, but Eliza rolled down her window as they approached so Leslie could bend over and tell them to pull into the lot and then follow her, which they did. After parking and getting out, they followed Leslie into another area of the unit, until they finally saw Beatrice leaning against the wall, spinning a keyring around her index finger. "They're here," Leslie said. "Thank you," Bea said politely, "You guys, all of you, need to follow me please." The three women followed Bea to a staircase, and up it to the second, then the third and finally the fourth floor. By the time they reached the floor, Michelle was leaning against a wall, panting, as she pulled her inhaler out of her pocket and took a few puffs. Eliza stopped and walked back to her, kneeling down, touching her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Yeah," Michelle said, "Just...wish this place had an elevator." Eliza helped Michelle back up and together they caught back up with Bea and Leslie, who had by this point stopped at a unit near the end of the floor. Bea was pushing a key into the lock attached to the unit and clicking it open, removing the lock. She then turned and looked at the three women, smiling at each of them as their eyes made contact. "I asked you three to come here because...outside of Liam, you guys are my best friends, and...and you're who I trust to open myself up to the most," Bea said, "that's why I need help cleaning this out." All Michelle could think about was the unit Liam had taken her to months previously, and now here she was, back at another storage unit. How many buried secrets did this people have? Bea reached to the handle and lifted the door up, then reached inside and pulled the string on the light hanging from the ceiling, blasting the unit with blinding brightness. After the woman were finished shielding their eyes momentarily, they each stared ahead at the interior, each unsure of how to react. Inside the unit sat a plethora of things, ranging from photo albums of Beatrice and her family to boxes of rejected various merchandise to, of all things, suit prototypes. As they each entered the unit, Bea stepped back, folding her arms and clearing her throat. "Up until now, even with knowing each of you for various lengths of time, I've remained kind of a mystery, and for this to work, I can't be an island anymore. I want you to look through these things, ask me questions, and then help me move it out of here. It's time to stop living in the past." Eliza asked Bea about her parents, while Michelle asked Bea about the stuff from the show, while Leslie just sat in silence, smiling, enjoying seeing Bea finally open up to people. She had a feeling this was going to be a wonderful partnership. Lying in bed that morning, Bea had talked about how secrets were the one thing holding her back from those she wanted to connect with most, and how she was finally ready to be free of them. How her parents had never lied to her, how her parents had taught her to be an honest person, and show business was what had driven her to create fabrications, how grief had managed to manifest untruths in order to cope. But she was ready to move past all of that now, and she made a promise to never lie to those she loved. If only she knew the irony. *** It was dark, and Amelia Burden was standing in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. She was 11 years old, and she was in her pajamas, ready to get into bed. The only issue was that Beatrice wouldn't come inside. It was getting dark, and Bea was outside barking her head off, despite how many times Amelia had called for her to come in. Gordon, standing, watching his daughter brush her teeth, kissed the top of her head as she passed him on the way exiting the bathroom. "I can't sleep without her," Amelia said. "I'll get her in, you just get in bed and she'll join you. She's a dog, sweetheart, she needs to bark," Gordon said, smiling as he led his daughter to her bedroom. Amelia climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. Gordon tucked her in, kissed her nose and knelt by her bedside. "I love you, and I hope you have sweet dreams," Gordon said, "I'll go get Bea, okay? When you wake up, she'll be right here with you as always, I promise." Amelia smiled and nodded, yawning. She was sleepy, actually. With that promise, she felt like she could actually go to sleep comfortable with the knowledge that her dog would be with her the following morning. Gordon headed back downstairs, made himself a bowl of ice cream and then sat in his recliner to finish reading the chapter of the book he was currently engrossed in. He'd go get Bea after he finished this. A few minutes later, he heard the backdoor open swiftly and his wives shoes tapping on the floor as she rushed to the living room. Gordon turned to look at her; her hair a mess, her eye makeup running, she was covered in dirt and blood. "...what the hell?" he muttered. "gordon," she whispered, "you need to come." Gordon immediately got up and, after pulling on his jacket and grabbing a flashlight, followed his wife outside, the two speaking in hushed voices as they walked briskly across the field, towards the road. "Jesus it's cold tonight," Gordon said, "What's happened?" "it's terrible, and i don't...i don't know what to do, and..." Gloria muttered, "i needed you." "Well I'm here, I'll fix it, whatever it is." "no..." Gloria said, stopping and looking at him, "...you can't fix this." A few moments later they reached the road, and Gordon immediately knew she was right. His stomach dropped, the wind knocked out of him. Lying there, dragged to the side of the road - presumably by Gloria, noting the blood on her clothes now - was Beatrice's body. Gordon approached the dog cautiously, and then knelt down, running his hand over her soft fur. He shook his head, his eyes shutting tightly, tears rolling down his face. It was over. She was already dead. After a few moments, he stood up and approached Gloria, putting the flashlight in her hands and then putting his hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, okay?" he asked, seeing her nod as he continued, "you're going to take Bea back to the house, and you're going to bury her. Do it deep. Use the good shovel from the shed, okay? Then wash your clothes, take a shower, and go to bed. Do not let Amelia wake up, okay? I'm going to go into town." "What are you going to do?" Gloria asked. "I'm going to find a new dog," Gordon said. He'd made a promise, and god dammit he was going to keep it. Gloria did as she was told. She went back, got a wheelbarrow, managed to hoist Beatrice's body into it and then take it back as quietly as she could. Once back at the house, she found the shovel and quickly dug a deep hole. As she looked at Bea's body in the wheelbarrow, she wanted to throw up. She reached down and kissed the dogs soft head, trying not to weep loudly. She told the dog that she was loved, and that she was sorry this had happened. She promised they'd find whoever had hit her. They never would. Then she lifted Bea's body out of the wheelbarrow and plopped it into the grave, quickly burying it and making it look natural. Then she went inside and she took a shower, washed her clothes, and went to bed. Gordon had read an ad in the paper recently about someone close by who had a dog they were trying to get rid of because it was too much work for them as they got up there in age, and he drove there immediately. He explained the situation, realized the dog looked nearly identical to Beatrice, and he paid cash. Sitting in the truck on the way back to the house, he glanced over occasionally at this imposter Bea and shook his head. "She can never know," he said, as if the dog would respond somehow, "okay? She can never find out about this." He was surprised when the dog nuzzled his arm and licked his hand. He took that as an oath of trust. When he got home, he put Bea's collar around the new dogs neck, carried it up the stairs, carefully opened Amelia's bedroom door and put the dog on the bed before retreating. He went back downstairs, took a shower, did his own laundry, and afterwards, in his pajamas, found his bowl of ice cream now melted. He wasn't even mad about the waste. He could let some ice cream go to waste. He couldn't let his daughters faith go to waste. He washed his bowl, and he went to bed. The following morning, when Amelia awoke, she was none the wiser. She and Beatrice were tight as ever, and she never learned of the extremes her parents had gone to keep this horrible tragedy hidden from her. Years later, when Amelia put Beatrice to sleep after she'd been riddled with cancerous tumors, it was a loss brought on by her own accord, not a loss life handed to her. It was natural, not cruel. After Bea was put down, when Amelia had gone back to college, her parents sat at their dinner table, each sipping a mug of coffee. "...we did the right thing," Gordon said, "she didn't have to say goodbye twice." "She didn't, but we did," Gloria said, making Gordon grimace. "That dog made this family," Gordon said, "I wasn't about to let that dogs absence tear us apart." "We're good parents, right?" Gloria asked, and Gordon, reaching across the table and holding his wifes hand gently, smiled at her. "She's never hated us yet," Gordon said, "and that counts for something." Oh yes, if only she knew the irony.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
About
Beatrice Beagle follows a young woman obsessed with a defunct pizzeria and kids show featuring a dog mascot. As she uncovers more about its mysterious past, she becomes sucked into the life of the woman who played the mascot, they both discover just how much they need eachother. Archives
April 2024
Categories |