Casey didn't know if she belonged here.
She had been assigned as Michelle's assistant, which meant helping Michelle sculpt, paint and create new set pieces for the show, or doing upkeep on the set pieces they already had. But standing here, trying to coat Beatrice's doghouse in a new sheen of red, she had to wonder if this was really what she wanted to be doing. She thought, with her artistic skill, that she would be doing something more worthwhile for her time. The doors to the area where they worked opened and Liam walked inside with Leslie beside him. Leslie was drinking from a styrofoam cup of coffee, while Liam was carrying more coffee towards the stage where Michelle was. "All I'm saying is that you're spending more money buying coffee than just making your own," Leslie said in between sips. "That's hypocritical, you can't criticize the very thing you're partaking in," Liam said. "Oh to the contrary, watch me," Leslie said, "I'm a television executive, I can make all sorts of bad decisions." Liam laughed as they reached the stage and Michelle scooted herself to the edge, setting her sculpting tools down and reaching out as Liam handed her a cup. He then looked behind her towards Casey, who just hid her face even more from view. Liam shrugged and put the carry container on the stage, pulling his own cup from it. "Michelle, you don't think I'm just a complainer do you?" Leslie asked. "What are you bitching about now?" Michelle asked, making Liam laugh again. "You know, artistic immunity doesn't mean you don't have to respect your superior," Leslie said, smirking. "And how exactly are you superior to me?" Michelle asked, and Leslie opened her mouth to reply, then shrugged and shut her mouth; Michelle nodded, adding, "Exactly." "How're things going?" Liam asked, nodding towards Casey. Michelle glanced back over her shoulder and sighed, then looked back at Liam and Leslie. "It's going," she said, shrugging, "what's with all the coffee lately? You've been on some kind of kick." "Coffee's good, also it's supposed to help reduce the risk of cancer," Liam said, "what, you don't like coffee?" "I don't know that I ever really drank it much before I met you guys," Michelle said. "Look at us," Leslie said, "We're such good influences." Casey would be lying if she said she didn't want to participate, but truth be told, she'd never learned how to make friends and she sure didn't know where to start now. She knew she wanted to know these people, the people Beatrice was apparently so very close to, but she didn't know how to do that. How does one become friends? Do you just walk up, introduce yourself and invite yourself in? That seemed...rude. So instead, Casey did what she'd been doing ever since she was a little girl. Hiding in the shadows. Pretending she couldn't be seen. Hiding had long since become a defense mechanism for her, and she wasn't about to give that up just yet. *** Eliza pushed her glasses up on her face with the bottom of her palm and then stuck her needle between her lips and pushed the puppet under the sewing machine, starting to stitch it at a faster rate. Keagan was sitting in a chair a bit aways from the desk, enjoying the sounds of the machine whirring. "There's something oddly comforting about the noise of a sewing machine," Keagan said, "My grandmother sewed a ton, and I remember her sewing machine was right in the living room, and when I'd sleep over when my mom worked late, I'd fall asleep to the sound of her sewing and humming to herself." Eliza smiled. "That's a nice memory," Eliza said, and Keagan sighed. "Do you ever miss stuff like that? Really little seemingly inconsequential things that you can't get back? I mean, I know you lost your mom, so that's why I figure you of all people would understand what I mean," Keagan said, and Eliza sighed as she stopped sewing and turned to face Keagan in her chair. "I don't know," Eliza said, "I guess I think of it more like...I never leave those moments. I am always in them. That way I can't miss anything. I know that's probably not considered 'healthy' but what is? I prefer to just stay in those moments because, no matter how good my present or my future might become, they'll never top the awesome power of childhood wonderment." Keagan smirked, nodding in agreement. Everyone always talked about Eliza being mentally disabled, but the more time Keagan spent with her, the more she didn't see what they meant. Course, she also knew there was a spectrum of disability, and clearly Eliza was capable of speech and thought on an adult manner when she wanted to be. Keagan finally got up from her seat and stretched for a minute, before heading to the table where Eliza was working and looked over her work. "You think it's about finished?" she asked. "You tell me, it's your puppet," Eliza said, "if there's anything you want added, just let me know." Keagan picked up the puppet, and looked it in the face. In a weird way, she felt incredibly attached to this puppet, as if it were truly an extension of herself. She felt a pang of love in her chest, and she hugged the puppet to her chest, almost feeling as if she were going to start crying. Eliza watched, smiling weakly, as Keagan just appreciated the moment. "You know," Eliza finally said, "people don't respect puppetry anymore. Not in this age of CGI and other visual effects. Practical effects have taken a big hit, but puppetry especially. And it's weird, because as children, we saw puppets as just another living thing. We learned from them. We empathized with them. And then, at some point, we just...lose that ability. We forget the things they thought us as children, and instead become the worst versions of ourselves. Puppets are capable of doing so much for us, but we've turned out back on them. As someone who's had way too many backs turned on her...I guess I refuse to do that to something that's helped me so much." Keagan looked up from hugging the puppet, Serena, and looked at Eliza who was now looking down at her drafting table again. Eliza sighed and pushed her glasses up again, before adjusting the bow keeping her bushy hair in a bun. "I think you're the most human person on this show," Keagan said. "I'd rather be a puppet," Eliza said, smirking a little. Keagan walked up to Eliza's chair and, reaching out, engulfed her in a hug as well. "I hope Michelle knows how lucky she is, having you," Keagan said, "and I hope she never takes you for granted." "She doesn't, and she knows," Eliza said, "...I like hugs." Keagan laughed a little and hugged a bit tighter. Eliza hadn't had a lot of hugs in the last few years, until she met these people and started working for Beatrice again, and now she was being smothered in affection, and she wouldn't have it any other way. *** Michelle and Casey were sitting on the stage, unpacking their lunches. Or, rather, Michelle was unpacking the lunch Delores always made for her, while Casey was having a lunch provided by the studio because she couldn't afford food on her own. As Casey unfolded the sandwich they'd given her, and untwisted the cap on her glass soda, Michelle wiped her mouth on her sleeve and pulled open a bag of chips, then holding it out towards Casey to share, which made Casey smile weakly as she reached within it and grasped a small handful. "Thank you," Casey said softly. "You're pretty handy with these tools, I'm impressed," Michelle said. "Well," Casey said, "um, I'm good with my hands in general. That's why I draw, do art." "That's cool," Michelle said, smiling kindly as she picked up the peach Delores had packed and bit into it, speaking as she chewed, "it was nice of Bea to give you a job, especially cause I really needed help around here." "Maybe she did it more for your sake than mine," Casey said flatly. "Nah, Bea doesn't just do things for me. She only gives jobs to those she sees purpose in, and I think she saw herself in you," Michelle said, "that's why she hired me. Cause of my resiliance in getting the show back out in public consciousness and stuff. But I'm glad you're here, cause I really did need help, cause I can only do so much sculpting and painting and stuff on my own. Plus you deserve it." "Nobody's ever been glad I've ever been anywhere, so...thanks, I guess," Casey said, and Michelle looked at her with those wide, comforting eyes; Casey swallowed her sandwich bite, sighed and then said, "I mean, you heard what I told that woman we met with, what was her name? Anyway. My mom was awful. That's why I spent so much of my time watching TV, and Beatrice always felt so...comforting. Like she was a mom from another place." "She did," Michelle said, nodding in agreement as she took another bite of her peach. "That's why I started drawing, cause she said art was a way to escape and understand pain," Casey said, "so I did just that. I found ways to escape what she was doing to me, or letting others do to me." "Everyone needs an outlet," Michelle said. "I can't help but feel like I don't fit in though, but that's not surprising, I've never felt like I fit in anywhere, so why should it be any different here? Even working for Beatrice, I still feel like an outsider. You all have so much history, chemistry, and I'll never reach that level no matter how long I'm here for," Casey said, "I'll always be the outsider." Casey lifted her drink to her lips and took a very long drink, as Michelle sighed and pulled her hair back in a bushy ponytail. "Let me tell you a story," Michelle said, "I never fit in anywhere either. Even coming here, I still felt that way. I was always a weird, introverted person who couldn't do a lot cause of my medical issues. I mean, I did what I could, I didn't let that define me, but...no matter how much you try not to let something define you, it still does. If something restricts you that much, it defines you. But there's no shame in that. So I accepted I was sick, and instead turned my focus on doing my work here until my health concerns became so great they couldn't be ignored. That's what you need to do. Give all that energy, whether positive or negative, to the art. Ignore the rest." Casey nodded slowly, listening, taking it all in. She looked at her chipped nails in her lap and shut her eyes. "Do you wanna see my sketches?" Casey asked. "Absolutely!" Casey smiled and reached to her backpack, tugging it towards her. It was covered in pins and patches, for alternative bands and various underground horror movies. Casey pulled a large black sketchbook from her bag and handed it to Michelle, who took it and opened it to gruesome drawings of monsters and creatures. She was, disgusted sure, but also impressed. Casey had real talent, especially in terms of design if not handwork. Michelle flipped through it for a bit, and then handed it back to Casey. "You're exceedingly talented," Michelle said. "Each monster is designed after a person who hurt me," Casey said as she tried to stuff the book back in her backpack, only for a kids storybook with a golden spine to slide out as well. Michelle reached forward and picked it up, looking at it, before Casey snatched it away. Their eyes locked, as Casey put the book back in her backpack, and Michelle just continued smiling at her. "I think that's a very therapeutic way to handle it," Michelle said, "What's that book from?" "...I had a babysitter," Casey said, "she used to read it to me, so now I read it when I get overwhelmed. It helps keep me calm. I have really nasty panic attacks a lot of times, and...and it helps. It helps ground me. I know that's so stupid, so childish, but it works. She was the only good part of my childhood." "There's nothing stupid about that," Michelle said, "we all cling to what keeps us safe." Casey nodded, understanding but not agreeing. No matter what nice things Michelle or Bea would ever say to her, she would never believe any of it herself. She knew she was total trash, and would only hurt them somehow. She excused herself, headed to the bathroom in the hall and, after locking herself in a stall, reached into her romper pocket and pulled out a bag of pills. She knelt in front of the toilet, smashed them as best as she could and snorted them, then leaned back on the floor against the stall door and started crying. Beatrice Beagle was a place designed for safety. And Casey was anything but safe to be around. *** Lexi was standing in the kitchen over the stove, stirring some noodles, reheating Chow Mein they'd ordered in the previous night, when she felt something on her shoulder. She smiled and turned, expecting to see Keagan but instead seeing a puppet face and she screamed, half laughing as she put a hand to her chest while Keagan cracked up and sat down at the kitchen table. "That was terrifying, my god," Lexi said, "that was the start to about 18 horror movies." "Isn't Serena great?" Keagan asked, plopping the puppet on her lap as Lexi turned to face her and looked. "She's beautiful," Lexi said, smiling warmly, "Eliza did a great job. Why the name Serena?" Keagan sighed and looked at the puppet, stroking its hair as if it were a cat in her lap. "When I was in middle school," Keagan said, "there was this girl in my math class. She was a math wizard, she always helped me with my homework and stuff, and we weren't really 'friends' but we were friendly to one another. You know, that kind of friendship you can only have while being in school, in its own twisted little ecosystem. Anyway, she was way cool, way smart, real pretty. I kind of had a big crush on her. But then again, I had a crush on a ton of people cause, ya know, hormones. Boys, girls, teachers, didn't matter. Anyway, one day she doesn't come to school, and then for the next few days she doesn't come to school either so I just sorta assume she's sick or something." "Was she?" Lexi asked, turning back to tend to her noodles in the pan. "No," Keagan said, "she'd been killed by her dad. He was a nice guy, until he suddenly wasn't. It just came out of nowhere, a complete psychotic snap, and he lost it. From what I heard, when he finally realized what he'd done to her, her sister and her mother, he felt intense remorse, but I guess the weight of life got to him and he cracked. But the damage was done, and they were gone. All except her mom, who had survived and had to learn to live with half a face." "Jeez," Lexi said, whispering in shock as she turned to look back at Keagan. "Anyway," Keagan continued, "we used to talk about how there were, like, absolutely no good books or movies for young black girls featuring young black girls. Particularly ones who were smart like us. Sure we always got these ghetto girls, or the ones who were streetsmart, and there's nothing inherently bad about those portrayals exactly, but...but we wanted to see girls who were like us. Good with books. Good with sciences and arts. We never saw those. I figured this would be a nice way to make that happen, while immortalizing her." Lexi walked up to Keagan as Keagan put Serena down on the table behind her and hugged Lexi around the waist. Lexi gently stroked her hair and held her. "That's a really beautiful way to ensure horror doesn't define her," Lexi said, and Keagan nodded, crying a little as Lexi added, "and I'm sure she'd appreciate it." Keagan hadn't thought about Serena in forever, but when she was asked to help create a puppet to represent her ethnicity, that was who she immediately thought of. She just hoped that, wherever it was people wound up when they died, Serena could see what Keagan and Eliza had created, and did like it. There was only so much Keagan could realistically do, but damned if she wasn't going to try her hardest to do it. *** There was a little place near Delores's called Chick's, where they sold hot snacks and desserts and drinks. It was an outdoor eating area, and the only people allowed inside were the people working there. Michelle and Eliza had been coming here about twice a week or so, just to get ice cream cones and then sit together outside and eat and talk, almost as if impromptu dates with simplicity. Licking her plain vanilla cone with cookie bits in it, Eliza looked around at all the other people who were here as Michelle stared dead ahead at her own cone and bit into it. "Today was weird," Michelle said. "Every day isn't?" Eliza asked. "I don't know," Michelle said, "that girl, Casey, I wanna help her but I don't know if she can be helped or would even let me." "Not every person is your responsibility," Eliza said, "sometimes, um, the best thing you can do is simply be there for them when they finally ask for help." "And what if it's too late by then?" Michelle asked, and Eliza shrugged, continuing to lick. "...you don't like her the way you like me, do you?" Eliza asked, before quickly apologizing, "sorry, sorry, that was, ugh...that was so dumb." "You never have to worry about that," Michelle said, smiling and reaching across the table, touching her cheek, "nobody is ever gonna take your place. You're the only girl I wanna have ice cream dates with." Eliza blushed, and they both started laughing. There was a certain sense of finality between them. That this was how it was going to be for the foreseeable future, and that fact alone gave them both a sense of security and safety. That, no matter what else came along, they would always have this. Always have eachother. And in an industry where you were never sure if your show was going to be cancelled the next week or not, that level of continuity was something they needed. That...and ice cream. Because ice cream fixes everything.
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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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