There was nothing Michelle liked better than going for a ride.
Even as a little girl, her only really good memories of being with her mother were on car rides. Especially car rides late at night, when the dashboard was lit up while the rest of the world was asleep, with only the passing overhead streetlamps to light the way, and the air conditioner blowing on her face, the whole sensation lulled Michelle into a sense of security that she rarely got otherwise. For just a brief moment, she felt like she could ignore the world outside her car, and simply enjoy being alive. And she really liked it when she didn't have to drive, and thankfully, she didn't right now. Beatrice was in fact the one behind the wheel, but mostly because it was Beatrice who had any idea of their destination.
Michelle pulled open her small package of peanuts and started eating them slowly, one by one, sucking the salt from them in her mouth before chewing the remains, all while Beatrice drove in silence. The radio wasn't on. They hadn't spoken since they left a half hour ago. All in all, the mood was what Michelle might consider 'offputting'. Finally, Michelle took a deep breath from the mask strapped around her neck and then exhaled before continuing to eat her peanuts.
"Sorry to demand this little road trip," Beatrice said, "I know it's probably not what you want to do right after being in the hospital, but I wanted to spend some time alone with you."
"It's fine," Michelle replied, shrugging, "if nothing else, it's nice to be able to go somewhere without having to put any effort into it firsthand. I'm glad you're the one driving."
"It's weird, isn't it?" Beatrice asked, heading down the long empty straightaway in the middle of nowhere, "just how much we take existence itself for granted. We just...we push aside any thoughts of dying, of non existence, because not only is it too scary to think about but also because hey, if we've made it thirty years, why wouldn't we make it another thirty years? But time is finite. Existence is fragile. I was so scared you might die."
"I get that," Michelle said, "when I was a little girl and in and out of the hospital all the time, I think I was scared too. Then, when nothing fatal ever happened, I sort of just assumed I was in the clear. Like you said, I just pushed it all to the back of my head. Told myself I was fine. When I collapsed at the event, I had this moment where the last thought to run through my head was 'it took a while'. Imagine that being the last thing you think."
Beatrice smirked and clicked her turn signal on, despite there being no cars around for miles.
"I guess the benefit of youth is the outright denial of death, not even denial, the abject inability to even comprehend such a thing," Beatrice said, "I never thought about how short life was when I was 10, because I was 10, and it didn't occur to me that life ends. Even when someone finally did die, someone in the family or something, it still never really got through to me that it would eventually happen to me one day. People talk about the loss of innocence of childhood as we get older, but what we really lose is that sense of immortality. That's what we lose, and as a result, we're terrified to do anything new, because, hey, it could kill us."
Michelle chuckled and nodded, popping more peanuts into her hand and then tossing them into her mouth as Bea continued.
"Your mom came by," she whispered.
"Really? To the hospital?"
"Only to cause a scene," Beatrice said.
"Yeah that's kind of her thing," Michelle replied.
"People who don't put in the time to love you don't deserve the chance to grieve you," Beatrice said flatly, "everyone else who was there that day...everyone was devastated. Your social worker, Keagan, even Eliza...we were all so worried to death, and then she comes strolling in like this is just something she was expected to show up to, like an appointment of some kind. She doesn't deserve to worry, if she never cared to love you to begin with."
"I think she does love me, that's the problem," Michelle said, "she just...loves herself more. It's always been more about her. But I think she loves me in the sense that I give her an excuse for her failure at life. I'm the scapegoat. Sure, that's not the kind of unconditional parental love one craves, nor should it be acceptable, but it's love, I guess."
"My parents bent over backwards for me," Beatrice said, "if anything made me upset, they'd find a way to make me feel better. Nowadays, people act like loving your child too much is somehow a negative thing. Now far too many parents leave their children in the hands of society, in the hands of media, which is why I decided the media they consume has to make up for their parents inability to love and nurture them. If they weren't up for the job, then god dammit I would be."
"You ever think about having kids?" Michelle asked, and after a brief pause, Beatrice shrugged.
"At this stage in my life it would be weird," she said, "but I see everyone as my child now, not in a creepy Jesus kind of way, but, you know what I mean."
Michelle, laughing, nodded. The sound of her laughter filled Beatrice with happiness, and she was so glad to see Michelle feel good enough to laugh again. Michelle finished her peanuts pouch and crumbled up the bag, stuffing it into her denim jacket, before pulling her hair up into a messy bun and clipping it there. She grabbed the mask and put it over her face, taking another long breath, before setting it back in her lap and then biting her lip, trying not to cry.
"What's wrong?" Bea asked, concerned by her sniffling.
"...i wish she loved me," Michelle whispered, "I know, I know that's, like, so cliche, but...god I wish I had family. I wish I had a mother. I know I shouldn't want her acceptance, her love, after how she's treated me, but I do."
"It's only natural," Beatrice said, her voice low but caring, "we all want our parents to love us, especially those of us who don't get that. And the world doesn't feel fair, by comparison, because so many other people have loving parents, why don't we? I feel so guilty for coming from such a warm and loving family, because it makes my art feel invalidating. The kind of pain I feel should only come from deep sadness, but I'm not a sad person, really. I'm actually a pretty happy person. I'm jaded, cynical, but I'm overall satisfied with my life, especially with all of you in it."
Michelle smiled, blushing, as she wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeves and exhaled.
"I hate myself for wanting her to love me," Michelle said, "it makes me so mad that I want her acceptance, but I do. I can't help it. I want her to love me the way she loves herself and her art."
"That's the thing about art, it isn't borne primarily from pain like so many people think," Beatrice said, "it can come from people who are perfectly content, like myself, or from people who are incredibly self indulgent, like her. She loves herself, she thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread, so she creates art to convince everyone else of that very same worldview. She can't fathom a life where she isn't the best and the brightest. She needs that acceptance, just like you want hers."
Michelle nodded, understanding what she meant. Michelle smiled meekly.
"I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but...when I was in the hospital, sometimes I would sneak to the nurses station and steal cards meant for other kids, and I'd read them, pretending they were for me. Pretending that my parents loved me enough to send me something. It's sick, but I guess we do what we have to to get by or whatever."
"That's not sick, Michelle, it's sad as fuck but it's not sick," Bea said, the both of them chuckling as she continued, "you have to create these false realities when reality doesn't give you what you need. Why do you think I created what I created. Why do you think you remade the set in your basement? We create the realities we need, because the realities we need don't exist. I'm sorry they didn't love you."
"It's fine," Michelle said, "I've gotten used to it."
"But that's the thing," Bea said, "nobody should have to 'get used to it'. You should have to get used to a romantic relationship ending, or someone dying, but not the people who should love you not loving you. Nobody should have to get used to their family not wanting them. That's just wrong."
"Nothing that can be done about it now," Michelle said, shrugging.
"That's where you're wrong," Beatrice said, "there is something you can do about it. You wanna see?"
This piqued Michelle's interest, as she had no idea what Bea meant with this cryptic statement. Bea turned down a long dirt road, surrounded by absolutely nothing for miles - not a building or person as far as the eye could see - and continued driving until finally something came into view in the distance. It got bigger and bigger, until finally Michelle could see what it was. A doghouse. Why was there a doghouse out here? And why would Beatrice bring her to it? Finally, as they got close enough, Bea slowed the car down, then came to a full stop. Bea shut the car off, opened the drivers door and climbed out, before heading around to the passenger side and helping Michelle from the car, dragging her oxygen tank behind her, mask fully on her face now.
"What...Bea...what is this?" Michelle asked, as they approached.
"When I was a little girl, Michelle, I had a dog. A beagle. She was my best friend in the whole world," Bea said, "I didn't really like other kids, and living more out in the country, I wasn't around kids much besides school, so she was the most companionship I had, aside from my folks of course. She died when I was in college, and it...it broke me. Something inside of me died that day, and it never recovered. Much like our own perceived immortality when we're young, we also rarely think about the fact that our pets will eventually go too. It's just, I don't know, too sad a thought I guess to really comprehend. But...she died, as every dog before her and after her has done or will do. After college, I came home for a bit before going to the city and...I moved her doghouse out here."
"Why?" Michelle asked.
"I just...I needed a place in the world just for us. Where I could come and pretend like nothing had changed. Like I was still that little girl in the country with a dog for a best friend," Bea said, "this is why it's been so hard this year, merchandising, because she isn't just a character, she's real. She's me. A part of me, anyway. I took her name, I made her a character, I wanted the world to love her the way I do. But...the closer that comes to being a reality, the more it scares me. It feels like she's no longer just for me. Now I have to share her. I wanted that, but when you get what you wanted, you start to wonder why you wanted it in the first place. I guess I wanted her to be shared and loved by everyone because of all the happiness she brought me. I wanted others to have that. You had it."
Michelle stood there, unable to come up with anything to say.
"In the hospital, watching the original show, you had it. You found a joy in her that I had found years before. I didn't know it at the time, but I had accomplished my goal a long time ago. You needed someone, and she was there. I was there," Beatrice said, "and I'm here for you now. She's here for you now."
Beatrice approached Michelle and put her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes.
"...you're the only one who needed her," Bea whispered, "the world doesn't, you did. The doll, the show, everything...it was all for you, I guess. Unlike your mother, my art wasn't made for my sake, but for yours. Not intentionally, obviously, not at first anyway, I didn't even know you, but looking back on it now...it's hard to deny. There's so few things in this world that matter to me the way Beatrice did, but you're one of them."
Bea wrapped her arms around Michelle and squeezed her tightly, both women crying now as they hugged in front of the doghouse. Never in her life, especially not as a child, could Michelle have expected that one day, the very thing that got her through her sickness, would give her this level of love. She was so grateful, and she couldn't believe her luck.
"You know," Michelle said, half laughing half crying, "they say not to meet your heroes, but I think those people just have shitty heroes."
Bea laughed loudly, squeezing her tighter. Beatrice had never brought anyone else to the doghouse. It was a sacred space, meant only for herself, but she realized Michelle was the only other person in the world to understand that level of love, and how important it was to have. Michelle had to see it, because seeing it meant knowing who Beatrice was fully, and she needed that level of connection with an older adult.
"I know I'm not your mom," Bea whispered, "but I sure I hope I've somewhat made up for her failures."
"More than you'll ever know," Michelle whispered back, "more than you will ever, ever know."
***
Sitting on the roof of the doghouse, Beatrice looked up at the night sky, taking a long drink from the beer can she had brought with her. She'd only finished building it a few days ago, and she would go back to school in a few weeks time, but for right now, she had this. She had this moment of solitude, this place where she could just be sad, and open, and alone. But she wasn't alone, and she knew that. She knew she wasn't alone. Beatrice was here. It was in that moment, that Amelia Burden decided to take Beatrice's name for her own, and leave her old identity behind. Soon enough she'd graduate college, and she'd be out in the city trying to make art, make a name for herself, and what she needed was an identity she could hide behind, to give her strength.
And what's stronger than the love of a dog?
Absolutely nothing, that's what.
Even as a little girl, her only really good memories of being with her mother were on car rides. Especially car rides late at night, when the dashboard was lit up while the rest of the world was asleep, with only the passing overhead streetlamps to light the way, and the air conditioner blowing on her face, the whole sensation lulled Michelle into a sense of security that she rarely got otherwise. For just a brief moment, she felt like she could ignore the world outside her car, and simply enjoy being alive. And she really liked it when she didn't have to drive, and thankfully, she didn't right now. Beatrice was in fact the one behind the wheel, but mostly because it was Beatrice who had any idea of their destination.
Michelle pulled open her small package of peanuts and started eating them slowly, one by one, sucking the salt from them in her mouth before chewing the remains, all while Beatrice drove in silence. The radio wasn't on. They hadn't spoken since they left a half hour ago. All in all, the mood was what Michelle might consider 'offputting'. Finally, Michelle took a deep breath from the mask strapped around her neck and then exhaled before continuing to eat her peanuts.
"Sorry to demand this little road trip," Beatrice said, "I know it's probably not what you want to do right after being in the hospital, but I wanted to spend some time alone with you."
"It's fine," Michelle replied, shrugging, "if nothing else, it's nice to be able to go somewhere without having to put any effort into it firsthand. I'm glad you're the one driving."
"It's weird, isn't it?" Beatrice asked, heading down the long empty straightaway in the middle of nowhere, "just how much we take existence itself for granted. We just...we push aside any thoughts of dying, of non existence, because not only is it too scary to think about but also because hey, if we've made it thirty years, why wouldn't we make it another thirty years? But time is finite. Existence is fragile. I was so scared you might die."
"I get that," Michelle said, "when I was a little girl and in and out of the hospital all the time, I think I was scared too. Then, when nothing fatal ever happened, I sort of just assumed I was in the clear. Like you said, I just pushed it all to the back of my head. Told myself I was fine. When I collapsed at the event, I had this moment where the last thought to run through my head was 'it took a while'. Imagine that being the last thing you think."
Beatrice smirked and clicked her turn signal on, despite there being no cars around for miles.
"I guess the benefit of youth is the outright denial of death, not even denial, the abject inability to even comprehend such a thing," Beatrice said, "I never thought about how short life was when I was 10, because I was 10, and it didn't occur to me that life ends. Even when someone finally did die, someone in the family or something, it still never really got through to me that it would eventually happen to me one day. People talk about the loss of innocence of childhood as we get older, but what we really lose is that sense of immortality. That's what we lose, and as a result, we're terrified to do anything new, because, hey, it could kill us."
Michelle chuckled and nodded, popping more peanuts into her hand and then tossing them into her mouth as Bea continued.
"Your mom came by," she whispered.
"Really? To the hospital?"
"Only to cause a scene," Beatrice said.
"Yeah that's kind of her thing," Michelle replied.
"People who don't put in the time to love you don't deserve the chance to grieve you," Beatrice said flatly, "everyone else who was there that day...everyone was devastated. Your social worker, Keagan, even Eliza...we were all so worried to death, and then she comes strolling in like this is just something she was expected to show up to, like an appointment of some kind. She doesn't deserve to worry, if she never cared to love you to begin with."
"I think she does love me, that's the problem," Michelle said, "she just...loves herself more. It's always been more about her. But I think she loves me in the sense that I give her an excuse for her failure at life. I'm the scapegoat. Sure, that's not the kind of unconditional parental love one craves, nor should it be acceptable, but it's love, I guess."
"My parents bent over backwards for me," Beatrice said, "if anything made me upset, they'd find a way to make me feel better. Nowadays, people act like loving your child too much is somehow a negative thing. Now far too many parents leave their children in the hands of society, in the hands of media, which is why I decided the media they consume has to make up for their parents inability to love and nurture them. If they weren't up for the job, then god dammit I would be."
"You ever think about having kids?" Michelle asked, and after a brief pause, Beatrice shrugged.
"At this stage in my life it would be weird," she said, "but I see everyone as my child now, not in a creepy Jesus kind of way, but, you know what I mean."
Michelle, laughing, nodded. The sound of her laughter filled Beatrice with happiness, and she was so glad to see Michelle feel good enough to laugh again. Michelle finished her peanuts pouch and crumbled up the bag, stuffing it into her denim jacket, before pulling her hair up into a messy bun and clipping it there. She grabbed the mask and put it over her face, taking another long breath, before setting it back in her lap and then biting her lip, trying not to cry.
"What's wrong?" Bea asked, concerned by her sniffling.
"...i wish she loved me," Michelle whispered, "I know, I know that's, like, so cliche, but...god I wish I had family. I wish I had a mother. I know I shouldn't want her acceptance, her love, after how she's treated me, but I do."
"It's only natural," Beatrice said, her voice low but caring, "we all want our parents to love us, especially those of us who don't get that. And the world doesn't feel fair, by comparison, because so many other people have loving parents, why don't we? I feel so guilty for coming from such a warm and loving family, because it makes my art feel invalidating. The kind of pain I feel should only come from deep sadness, but I'm not a sad person, really. I'm actually a pretty happy person. I'm jaded, cynical, but I'm overall satisfied with my life, especially with all of you in it."
Michelle smiled, blushing, as she wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeves and exhaled.
"I hate myself for wanting her to love me," Michelle said, "it makes me so mad that I want her acceptance, but I do. I can't help it. I want her to love me the way she loves herself and her art."
"That's the thing about art, it isn't borne primarily from pain like so many people think," Beatrice said, "it can come from people who are perfectly content, like myself, or from people who are incredibly self indulgent, like her. She loves herself, she thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread, so she creates art to convince everyone else of that very same worldview. She can't fathom a life where she isn't the best and the brightest. She needs that acceptance, just like you want hers."
Michelle nodded, understanding what she meant. Michelle smiled meekly.
"I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but...when I was in the hospital, sometimes I would sneak to the nurses station and steal cards meant for other kids, and I'd read them, pretending they were for me. Pretending that my parents loved me enough to send me something. It's sick, but I guess we do what we have to to get by or whatever."
"That's not sick, Michelle, it's sad as fuck but it's not sick," Bea said, the both of them chuckling as she continued, "you have to create these false realities when reality doesn't give you what you need. Why do you think I created what I created. Why do you think you remade the set in your basement? We create the realities we need, because the realities we need don't exist. I'm sorry they didn't love you."
"It's fine," Michelle said, "I've gotten used to it."
"But that's the thing," Bea said, "nobody should have to 'get used to it'. You should have to get used to a romantic relationship ending, or someone dying, but not the people who should love you not loving you. Nobody should have to get used to their family not wanting them. That's just wrong."
"Nothing that can be done about it now," Michelle said, shrugging.
"That's where you're wrong," Beatrice said, "there is something you can do about it. You wanna see?"
This piqued Michelle's interest, as she had no idea what Bea meant with this cryptic statement. Bea turned down a long dirt road, surrounded by absolutely nothing for miles - not a building or person as far as the eye could see - and continued driving until finally something came into view in the distance. It got bigger and bigger, until finally Michelle could see what it was. A doghouse. Why was there a doghouse out here? And why would Beatrice bring her to it? Finally, as they got close enough, Bea slowed the car down, then came to a full stop. Bea shut the car off, opened the drivers door and climbed out, before heading around to the passenger side and helping Michelle from the car, dragging her oxygen tank behind her, mask fully on her face now.
"What...Bea...what is this?" Michelle asked, as they approached.
"When I was a little girl, Michelle, I had a dog. A beagle. She was my best friend in the whole world," Bea said, "I didn't really like other kids, and living more out in the country, I wasn't around kids much besides school, so she was the most companionship I had, aside from my folks of course. She died when I was in college, and it...it broke me. Something inside of me died that day, and it never recovered. Much like our own perceived immortality when we're young, we also rarely think about the fact that our pets will eventually go too. It's just, I don't know, too sad a thought I guess to really comprehend. But...she died, as every dog before her and after her has done or will do. After college, I came home for a bit before going to the city and...I moved her doghouse out here."
"Why?" Michelle asked.
"I just...I needed a place in the world just for us. Where I could come and pretend like nothing had changed. Like I was still that little girl in the country with a dog for a best friend," Bea said, "this is why it's been so hard this year, merchandising, because she isn't just a character, she's real. She's me. A part of me, anyway. I took her name, I made her a character, I wanted the world to love her the way I do. But...the closer that comes to being a reality, the more it scares me. It feels like she's no longer just for me. Now I have to share her. I wanted that, but when you get what you wanted, you start to wonder why you wanted it in the first place. I guess I wanted her to be shared and loved by everyone because of all the happiness she brought me. I wanted others to have that. You had it."
Michelle stood there, unable to come up with anything to say.
"In the hospital, watching the original show, you had it. You found a joy in her that I had found years before. I didn't know it at the time, but I had accomplished my goal a long time ago. You needed someone, and she was there. I was there," Beatrice said, "and I'm here for you now. She's here for you now."
Beatrice approached Michelle and put her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes.
"...you're the only one who needed her," Bea whispered, "the world doesn't, you did. The doll, the show, everything...it was all for you, I guess. Unlike your mother, my art wasn't made for my sake, but for yours. Not intentionally, obviously, not at first anyway, I didn't even know you, but looking back on it now...it's hard to deny. There's so few things in this world that matter to me the way Beatrice did, but you're one of them."
Bea wrapped her arms around Michelle and squeezed her tightly, both women crying now as they hugged in front of the doghouse. Never in her life, especially not as a child, could Michelle have expected that one day, the very thing that got her through her sickness, would give her this level of love. She was so grateful, and she couldn't believe her luck.
"You know," Michelle said, half laughing half crying, "they say not to meet your heroes, but I think those people just have shitty heroes."
Bea laughed loudly, squeezing her tighter. Beatrice had never brought anyone else to the doghouse. It was a sacred space, meant only for herself, but she realized Michelle was the only other person in the world to understand that level of love, and how important it was to have. Michelle had to see it, because seeing it meant knowing who Beatrice was fully, and she needed that level of connection with an older adult.
"I know I'm not your mom," Bea whispered, "but I sure I hope I've somewhat made up for her failures."
"More than you'll ever know," Michelle whispered back, "more than you will ever, ever know."
***
Sitting on the roof of the doghouse, Beatrice looked up at the night sky, taking a long drink from the beer can she had brought with her. She'd only finished building it a few days ago, and she would go back to school in a few weeks time, but for right now, she had this. She had this moment of solitude, this place where she could just be sad, and open, and alone. But she wasn't alone, and she knew that. She knew she wasn't alone. Beatrice was here. It was in that moment, that Amelia Burden decided to take Beatrice's name for her own, and leave her old identity behind. Soon enough she'd graduate college, and she'd be out in the city trying to make art, make a name for herself, and what she needed was an identity she could hide behind, to give her strength.
And what's stronger than the love of a dog?
Absolutely nothing, that's what.