Beatrice and Michelle were standing in front of a small window, peering out at the room of women preparing to perform for them. Beatrice sipped her tea as Michelle ate a cinnamon roll, neither one saying a word. Bea lowered the mug from her lips and clasped it between both hands, sighing heavily. Michelle glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow. Bea felt like she'd been here before, but for a different reason. Back when she and Liam had made the deal with the pizza place, she had to watch other women don shoddy Beatrice costumes that they could use in store for birthdays, meet and greets and more. And now, here she was again, doing it once more. Ya know, she thought to herself, for all that Liam tells me it's different, it really isn't all that different. She turned to Michelle.
"Last night," Beatrice said, "when we were laying in bed, and I was talking Leslie's ear off about doing this today, I realized that all I ever do is complain."
"God, I know, you're exhausting," Michelle replied, the both of them giggling.
"I want to like what I do enough, trust enough in the process, to not have to complain about it all the time. I'm trying to let her go. I'm trying to let others have her. But it's hard. These women...I'm sure they're all talented, wonderful people, but they don't know who Beatrice was. Is. They can't carry themselves the way I do, speak with the same cadence. It isn't the same dog."
Michelle nodded, listening. Beatrice raised her mug back to her lips and sipped again, then smacked her lips and sighed.
"I guess," she continued, "all I can do is continue trying. I was lucky enough to make it in the entertainment industry. People try and tell you it's about talent but it's only maybe 30% talent, and it's 70% luck. You can be the most talented person on the planet and still not catch a break. So many people go unrecognized, unappreciated. Why do you think paintings triple in value once the artist is dead? Because nobody knew or liked them when they were alive. So I got lucky. Now is the time to raise up others, give them the chances I was given. You're not meant to act as a barrier once you've achieved your goals, you know? You're meant to act as a ladder, to help others achieve them to, or reach even greater heights. Art is...is about boosting others, not tearing them down."
Michelle smiled big. She loved how Bea spoke about art, almost as if it were a religion, and to Beatrice it was. She loved art almost more than anything else in the world, and it made the most sense to her of all the subjects. When she was a little girl, she used to ride her bike down to the library, with Bea by her side, and they would get so many books on art out and take them home where she would spend hours reading up on them. Mediums she wasn't even really interested in, she would read about. Paintings, sewing, glass blowing. Anything she could find. Because to bring something of beauty into a world that wasn't beautiful, to grant it that serenity even only momentarily...that was something Beatrice could understand.
"Well," Michelle said, "Better not keep 'em waiting."
Bea nodded, as she and Michelle headed through the door, clipboards in hand.
***
Liam opened his front door to find Eliza standing on his porch. Surprised, certainly, but more surprised by her forcing her way into his home. He shut the door after she'd barged in, and watched her walk in circles, clearly exasperated. Eliza looked like a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her clothing was wrinkled, she looked like she'd barely been sleeping. Finally she stopped pacing and turned to face him.
"Why did you have to tell me that!?" she shouted.
"I'm sorry," Liam said, knowing immediately what she meant, "I had to tell someone, and I couldn't tell Bea, not just yet. Eliza, it's a sign of trust, you know? It's...you go so far back with us, I can't help but feel safe telling you."
"Yeah but what am I supposed to do with that?!" Eliza shouted, "I mean...you...you know what loss does to me! You know how it affects me! Don't act like this is somehow the noble thing to do, cause now all I do is worry and freak out and...and I can't sleep and I've just been crying nonstop and-"
Liam approached Eliza and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. Eliza fought it for a moment before giving in and sighing. She shut her eyes and hugged him back.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be, perfectly natural reaction," Liam said, "I'm the one who should be sorry, having to die, dropping it on you."
"You can't help dying, everyone dies," Eliza replied.
Eliza stayed there in his arms for a bit and thought back to when she'd first been hired. She thought back to when she first met Liam and Bea and had been brought on to make the puppets and other props. How she felt like, in them, she'd found a mother and father figure who would love her no matter her limited mental capacities and her other countless issues, issues that, to people who truly loved and appreciated her, wouldn't seem like issues. Would seem miniscule or nonexistent in scope.
"I was baking some brownies, do you want a brownie?" Liam asked, and Eliza nodded, squeezing tighter; Liam smirked and patted her on the back, "that's my girl. Let's have a tea party."
***
"You have an impressive resume," Bea said, "multiple theme park character experience, theatre work, honestly, I won't lie, you seem ideal."
The woman in front of them smiled politely and crossed her legs. Michelle rolled her eyes and looked away. They'd been doing this all day and she'd seen so many actresses now that she knew when they were acting even when they insisted they weren't. The thing about acting, she'd come to realize, is how fake a person can be outside of the job. Never fully trustworthy, everything about their personality coming down to a perfectly curated performance. Michelle stood up and excused herself, heading out of the room and down the hall to get a drink from a vending machine. Standing there, she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and removed a dollar bill, smoothing it out on her leg and then pushing it into the machine.
"Where is everyone?" Casey asked, scaring Michelle. Michelle grabbed her drink once it dropped and turned to face her.
"You look like shit," Michelle said, "are you okay?"
"Where's Bea?" Casey asked as Michelle unscrewed the lid to her drink and had some before offering it to Casey, who shook her head; Casey continued, "Liam isn't in his office, Eliza isn't in The Hole, where is everyone?"
"Calm down, I don't know where Liam is, and as for Eliza I assume she's at home. I'm her girlfriend, not her ankle monitor. Bea's in the room down the hall, we're interviewing people. Are you okay?"
Casey looked towards the door and glared.
"Interviewing people for what?" she asked.
"Well," Michelle started as they began heading down the hall back towards the room, "we need people for public performances. Meet and greets, stuff like that, so we brought in a lot of actresses to see how well they'd do. I was just in there with her a minute ago, we can-"
Casey walked faster, pushing her way into the room. The woman Bea had been speaking to had since left, leaving just Bea alone now in the room. Bea turned and looked at them as they entered, smiling, happy to see them.
"Hello!" Bea said.
"Why are you interviewing people?" Casey asked sternly, "You already know me! What about me?!"
Bea looked past her at Michelle, who had now entered the room behind her, both confused. Bea thought about what Casey meant by this, but couldn't place it. She shook her head, and Casey, clearly exasperated, started pacing back and forth, grabbing at her hair. She looked like she hadn't slept, she looked like she hadn't showered, she looked messy and as if she'd been up doing drugs all night. She stammered, tripped a little, then turned back to facing Bea.
"When we met, this is exactly what I was doing!" Casey said, "remember? At the pizza place?! I was playing you! But now when it comes to finding people you go outside, you source new people, you don't even consider me?! Why am I never fucking good enough for anyone?!"
"Casey, calm down," Bea said, approaching her, "what...what is..."
"You're just like the rest of them," Casey said, thinking back to her parents, back to the interaction she'd had the other day with her former babysitter, "you pretend like you care but you don't, you just want to find people to do things for you without ever giving them anything back in return, you're a fucking liar, and then people have the audacity to call ME a user!"
Michelle finally walked past her, standing between the two and facing Casey.
"You're gonna have to stop right now," Michelle said coldly, "I will not let you stand here and speak to her this way, this is not acceptable, nor appropriate workplace behavior. If you won't control yourself, I will have to have you removed until you can be calmed down."
"Fuck you!" Casey screamed, then looking past her at Bea added, "fuck both of you! Fuck everyone! I'm perfect for this! This is what I did! You don't care! You never fucking cared! Nobody ever did!"
"Casey, calm down, okay?" Bea said softly, "we can find something for you if you'd like to do this too, it didn't even occur to me that you might, I figured you'd be too uncomfortable with public-"
"It never does occur to anyone does it!?" Casey screamed, crying hard, "I don't want to be an afterthought, I should've been the first choice, but I'm never anyones first choice! I'm always the leftover! Just once, just one goddamned time, I want people to think of me! I'll make everyone think of me!"
Casey turned and ran out of the room,leaving a bewildered Bea and a stunned Michelle in her wake. Bea plopped herself back down onto the chair as Michelle sat down slowly in the chair beside her. Bea stared at the floor as Michelle ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She didn't know what the hell just happened. She could chase her. But she figured Casey was irrational right now, that she needed space. Michelle glanced at Bea, whose wide eyes said all that needed to be said.
"You're not like that you know," Michelle said, "what she said about you, I mean. You don't just use people."
"...she hates me," Bea whispered, and Michelle didn't know to respond to that. She just reached out, instead, and held her hand.
***
"I remember back during original production," Liam said, the two of them now sitting in the kitchen as he had served them brownies and tea, "you were almost never insecure of your talents, and for someone your age back then that was refreshing. We had to do so much work with other people on the show, trying to get them to believe in themselves, but you just...did."
"I have always known what I'm capable of, even if others have doubts about my intellectual capacity," Eliza said, sipping her tea and then picking up the remainder of her brownie, biting into and chewing as she spoke, "besides, I had support, I had my parents. They may not have really understood it, but they told me how talented I was, so."
Liam smiled and looked around his kitchen, his eyes landing on his cane as he sighed.
"You know what I'm gonna miss most?" he asked, Eliza shaking her head as he continued, "so many people say they'll miss their friends, their families, their lovers, all valid things to be fair. Others try and be more intellectual about it, say they'll miss the small, easily ignorable things like the sunshine or the birdsong. But me? I'm gonna miss me. I know it sounds selfish, self absorbed, but I spent so many years cultivating who I am as a person, and I'm gonna miss that person. A lot of time and effort went into making me who I am, and it hurts to know that I'll be gone, and I won't get to learn about new things I would enjoy or have new experiences I can remember fondly."
"I don't think that's selfish at all, in fact...I think that's very down to earth," Eliza said, "I think more people should think that way but, well...a lot of people hate themselves."
Liam chuckled, making Eliza smile weakly. She stared at his face, as if trying to burn it into her memory. This man. This man she'd known for over twenty years. He was going to be gone. How could she go on with that being the case? And what about the show? Liam had played such a pivotal role for so long - both behind the scenes, creatively and business wise as well as literally being a starring voice - that for them to lose him was almost...almost inconceivable to her. How would they go on?
"I'm not sure what to tell Bea, to be perfectly frank with you," Liam said.
"Well I think she's gonna find out sooner or later, once you die," Eliza replied, making Liam laugh.
"I just mean," he added, wiping his mouth on a napkin before setting it back down on the table, "it's going to be very hard on her. We've had a somewhat tumultous relationship, but we've been best friends for almost thirty years. I don't know how she's going to handle this. Hell, I don't know if she's going to handle this. She's already suffered so much loss..."
While Eliza continued to eat her brownie, Liam thought back to all the things Bea had lost. Her dog. Her mother. Claire. Goddamn Claire. Now he would be added to the list, nothing but a fond memory of something she loved with her whole heart that also had the gall to leave her behind, albeit unintentionally. He hoped, however, that she understood none of these were her fault, even Claire. They did what they had to do. Liam bit his lip and shook his head.
"When do we tell her?" Eliza asked, breaking his concentration, causing him to glance back in her direction.
"I don't know yet, but I'm sure the opportunity will present itself soon enough," he replied, shrugging.
Oh how right he would be.
***
Justine was standing in her home, laughing and talking with a small group of friends. She had a weekly meetup with a group of women, all of whom were childrens book authors or illustrators, and it was the one thing she looked forward to the most every week. Standing there in her white pencil skirt and her dark blue long sleeved blouse, her hair up, her makeup just right, she kept picking at the snacks she and others had laid out on the table for the get together as she listened to her friends stories and anecdotes and opinions on the industry and their lives in general. A knock at the door caught her attention though, and she went to answer it, only to find Casey standing on the porch, looking disheveled, her eyes darting everywhere.
"Hi," Justine said, as she glanced over her shoulder, then exited to the porch, closing the door behind her, "are you okay?"
"I just need someone to be nice to me for like five minutes, okay?" Casey asked. Justine nodded, and the two went to the porch swing, seating themselves side by side. Casey rubbed her blood red eyes and sniffled.
"What's going on?" Justine asked.
"I'm so tired," Casey mumbled, "I'm so tired."
"Get some sleep, go home and try to rest, cause you don't seem-"
"Not actually tired," Casey said, "tired of everything. Tired of existence. Being lied to, being used, being taken advantage of. Never being good enough."
"Who said you weren't good enough?" Justine asked, sounding upset.
"A lot of times there's no words, and it's the actions that prove it," Casey said, "never actually being a part of something, even when asked to be. Never being fully included or involved the way others are. I'm not even good enough to be working with you, let's be honest. My skill level compared to yours is garbage."
Justine reached out and put a hand on Casey's arm, then looked back at the door to her home, where her friends were still having fun together. Justine thought about asking Casey to join them, she was an artist after all, but she was unsure if this was the right decision; after all, she was the only one actually familiar with Casey and her work, her abilities. It might be awkward for everyone involved. Justine sighed and looked back at Casey.
"Can we maybe meet tomorrow?" Justine asked, "I'm currently doing something, and I do really want to talk to you, help if I can, but I'm literally right in the middle of this and-"
Casey lost it. She got up and she ran down the porch, stumbling as she slipped on the grass, then getting back up and heading across the street as a car nearly hit her. She screamed at them, kicked the grille of their car and then got back into her car and took off. Justine stayed on the porch, watching in shock. She felt awful. She shook her head and invited her in, or talked more to her, but she needed this meeting today for her own sanity. It's one of the few times she gets to feel okay about herself and her own life. Justine walked back to the door, opened it and stepped back inside, back to the serenity of her joy.
Meanwhile, as Michelle and Bea were heading to the parking lot, to their respective cars to head home, Bea couldn't shake the incident from earlier.
"You know," Bea said as they walked down the hall, sharing a small bag of chips, "I feel terrible. I feel like I should do something for Casey, make her feel more welcome and needed."
"I hate to say this, especially given all you've done for me, but...not everyone is your responsibility," Michelle said, chewing, stuffing chips in her mouth, "you can't save everyone, Bea, nor is it your duty to do so. I understand that you see yourself in me, in Eliza, in Casey, in Keagan...we're all artists and stuff. But, ya know, some people can't be saved or helped, especially if they won't let themselves be. I tried to get Casey into a drug program, but it didn't really take, and I tried to include her more in what I did, but she still felt like an outsider. She's a nice person but she's this...this self defeating, self fulfilling prophecy, and until she learns she can break free of it, nothing anyone does will ever really help her. She needs to WANT to be helped first. I know that's so tropey to say, but fuck it."
Bea nodded, listening. Bea thought about Claire. She thought about telling Michelle about Claire. It would help her understand so much more, but...but it also might complicate things. Raise more questions than provide context. Best to leave the past in the past, she figured. They exited and hit the parking lot, the evening starting to set in. Michelle and Bea had parked side by side, as they always had, and each reached out, opening their respective car doors before stopping and facing eachother once more.
"You know," Bea said, "I always put others ahead of myself, and maybe it's...maybe it's okay to do the opposite for once. Maybe you're right. Thank you, Michelle."
"Of course," Michelle replied, as they hugged one another, got into their cars and headed their opposite ways towards home. When Bea arrived, she found Leslie in the kitchen, already preparing dinner. Bea walked in and hugged her from behind, and felt such a sense of peace come over her, all her fears and doubts and anxieties melted away right then and there, that it was hard not to admit that nobody but herself was her responsibility and Michelle had been right after all. And Michelle, when she got home, she found Eliza sitting cross legged on the couch reading, and when she walked in, Eliza quickly scrambled off the couch and threw her arms around Michelle, surprising her as she kissed her face everywhere. Michelle giggled and returned the affection happily, before the two of them sat back down and talked about their day.
Casey, though, Casey pulled up and parked alongside the rail. She reached up, turned the little overhead light on and then retrieved a pen and paper from the glovebox of her car, uncapping the pen and scribbling something on it. She then stuck it into the windshield of her car from the inside and climbed out. Casey headed across the road from where she'd parked, to the opposite side, and looked over the edge. She was on an enormous bridge, the wind blowing her hair into her face, and she took a deep sigh.
It would be so easy. It would all be so easy. And what would she really be missing, after all? She just needed to be brave enough to do it.
But people often misunderstood the definition of bravery.
"Last night," Beatrice said, "when we were laying in bed, and I was talking Leslie's ear off about doing this today, I realized that all I ever do is complain."
"God, I know, you're exhausting," Michelle replied, the both of them giggling.
"I want to like what I do enough, trust enough in the process, to not have to complain about it all the time. I'm trying to let her go. I'm trying to let others have her. But it's hard. These women...I'm sure they're all talented, wonderful people, but they don't know who Beatrice was. Is. They can't carry themselves the way I do, speak with the same cadence. It isn't the same dog."
Michelle nodded, listening. Beatrice raised her mug back to her lips and sipped again, then smacked her lips and sighed.
"I guess," she continued, "all I can do is continue trying. I was lucky enough to make it in the entertainment industry. People try and tell you it's about talent but it's only maybe 30% talent, and it's 70% luck. You can be the most talented person on the planet and still not catch a break. So many people go unrecognized, unappreciated. Why do you think paintings triple in value once the artist is dead? Because nobody knew or liked them when they were alive. So I got lucky. Now is the time to raise up others, give them the chances I was given. You're not meant to act as a barrier once you've achieved your goals, you know? You're meant to act as a ladder, to help others achieve them to, or reach even greater heights. Art is...is about boosting others, not tearing them down."
Michelle smiled big. She loved how Bea spoke about art, almost as if it were a religion, and to Beatrice it was. She loved art almost more than anything else in the world, and it made the most sense to her of all the subjects. When she was a little girl, she used to ride her bike down to the library, with Bea by her side, and they would get so many books on art out and take them home where she would spend hours reading up on them. Mediums she wasn't even really interested in, she would read about. Paintings, sewing, glass blowing. Anything she could find. Because to bring something of beauty into a world that wasn't beautiful, to grant it that serenity even only momentarily...that was something Beatrice could understand.
"Well," Michelle said, "Better not keep 'em waiting."
Bea nodded, as she and Michelle headed through the door, clipboards in hand.
***
Liam opened his front door to find Eliza standing on his porch. Surprised, certainly, but more surprised by her forcing her way into his home. He shut the door after she'd barged in, and watched her walk in circles, clearly exasperated. Eliza looked like a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her clothing was wrinkled, she looked like she'd barely been sleeping. Finally she stopped pacing and turned to face him.
"Why did you have to tell me that!?" she shouted.
"I'm sorry," Liam said, knowing immediately what she meant, "I had to tell someone, and I couldn't tell Bea, not just yet. Eliza, it's a sign of trust, you know? It's...you go so far back with us, I can't help but feel safe telling you."
"Yeah but what am I supposed to do with that?!" Eliza shouted, "I mean...you...you know what loss does to me! You know how it affects me! Don't act like this is somehow the noble thing to do, cause now all I do is worry and freak out and...and I can't sleep and I've just been crying nonstop and-"
Liam approached Eliza and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. Eliza fought it for a moment before giving in and sighing. She shut her eyes and hugged him back.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be, perfectly natural reaction," Liam said, "I'm the one who should be sorry, having to die, dropping it on you."
"You can't help dying, everyone dies," Eliza replied.
Eliza stayed there in his arms for a bit and thought back to when she'd first been hired. She thought back to when she first met Liam and Bea and had been brought on to make the puppets and other props. How she felt like, in them, she'd found a mother and father figure who would love her no matter her limited mental capacities and her other countless issues, issues that, to people who truly loved and appreciated her, wouldn't seem like issues. Would seem miniscule or nonexistent in scope.
"I was baking some brownies, do you want a brownie?" Liam asked, and Eliza nodded, squeezing tighter; Liam smirked and patted her on the back, "that's my girl. Let's have a tea party."
***
"You have an impressive resume," Bea said, "multiple theme park character experience, theatre work, honestly, I won't lie, you seem ideal."
The woman in front of them smiled politely and crossed her legs. Michelle rolled her eyes and looked away. They'd been doing this all day and she'd seen so many actresses now that she knew when they were acting even when they insisted they weren't. The thing about acting, she'd come to realize, is how fake a person can be outside of the job. Never fully trustworthy, everything about their personality coming down to a perfectly curated performance. Michelle stood up and excused herself, heading out of the room and down the hall to get a drink from a vending machine. Standing there, she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and removed a dollar bill, smoothing it out on her leg and then pushing it into the machine.
"Where is everyone?" Casey asked, scaring Michelle. Michelle grabbed her drink once it dropped and turned to face her.
"You look like shit," Michelle said, "are you okay?"
"Where's Bea?" Casey asked as Michelle unscrewed the lid to her drink and had some before offering it to Casey, who shook her head; Casey continued, "Liam isn't in his office, Eliza isn't in The Hole, where is everyone?"
"Calm down, I don't know where Liam is, and as for Eliza I assume she's at home. I'm her girlfriend, not her ankle monitor. Bea's in the room down the hall, we're interviewing people. Are you okay?"
Casey looked towards the door and glared.
"Interviewing people for what?" she asked.
"Well," Michelle started as they began heading down the hall back towards the room, "we need people for public performances. Meet and greets, stuff like that, so we brought in a lot of actresses to see how well they'd do. I was just in there with her a minute ago, we can-"
Casey walked faster, pushing her way into the room. The woman Bea had been speaking to had since left, leaving just Bea alone now in the room. Bea turned and looked at them as they entered, smiling, happy to see them.
"Hello!" Bea said.
"Why are you interviewing people?" Casey asked sternly, "You already know me! What about me?!"
Bea looked past her at Michelle, who had now entered the room behind her, both confused. Bea thought about what Casey meant by this, but couldn't place it. She shook her head, and Casey, clearly exasperated, started pacing back and forth, grabbing at her hair. She looked like she hadn't slept, she looked like she hadn't showered, she looked messy and as if she'd been up doing drugs all night. She stammered, tripped a little, then turned back to facing Bea.
"When we met, this is exactly what I was doing!" Casey said, "remember? At the pizza place?! I was playing you! But now when it comes to finding people you go outside, you source new people, you don't even consider me?! Why am I never fucking good enough for anyone?!"
"Casey, calm down," Bea said, approaching her, "what...what is..."
"You're just like the rest of them," Casey said, thinking back to her parents, back to the interaction she'd had the other day with her former babysitter, "you pretend like you care but you don't, you just want to find people to do things for you without ever giving them anything back in return, you're a fucking liar, and then people have the audacity to call ME a user!"
Michelle finally walked past her, standing between the two and facing Casey.
"You're gonna have to stop right now," Michelle said coldly, "I will not let you stand here and speak to her this way, this is not acceptable, nor appropriate workplace behavior. If you won't control yourself, I will have to have you removed until you can be calmed down."
"Fuck you!" Casey screamed, then looking past her at Bea added, "fuck both of you! Fuck everyone! I'm perfect for this! This is what I did! You don't care! You never fucking cared! Nobody ever did!"
"Casey, calm down, okay?" Bea said softly, "we can find something for you if you'd like to do this too, it didn't even occur to me that you might, I figured you'd be too uncomfortable with public-"
"It never does occur to anyone does it!?" Casey screamed, crying hard, "I don't want to be an afterthought, I should've been the first choice, but I'm never anyones first choice! I'm always the leftover! Just once, just one goddamned time, I want people to think of me! I'll make everyone think of me!"
Casey turned and ran out of the room,leaving a bewildered Bea and a stunned Michelle in her wake. Bea plopped herself back down onto the chair as Michelle sat down slowly in the chair beside her. Bea stared at the floor as Michelle ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She didn't know what the hell just happened. She could chase her. But she figured Casey was irrational right now, that she needed space. Michelle glanced at Bea, whose wide eyes said all that needed to be said.
"You're not like that you know," Michelle said, "what she said about you, I mean. You don't just use people."
"...she hates me," Bea whispered, and Michelle didn't know to respond to that. She just reached out, instead, and held her hand.
***
"I remember back during original production," Liam said, the two of them now sitting in the kitchen as he had served them brownies and tea, "you were almost never insecure of your talents, and for someone your age back then that was refreshing. We had to do so much work with other people on the show, trying to get them to believe in themselves, but you just...did."
"I have always known what I'm capable of, even if others have doubts about my intellectual capacity," Eliza said, sipping her tea and then picking up the remainder of her brownie, biting into and chewing as she spoke, "besides, I had support, I had my parents. They may not have really understood it, but they told me how talented I was, so."
Liam smiled and looked around his kitchen, his eyes landing on his cane as he sighed.
"You know what I'm gonna miss most?" he asked, Eliza shaking her head as he continued, "so many people say they'll miss their friends, their families, their lovers, all valid things to be fair. Others try and be more intellectual about it, say they'll miss the small, easily ignorable things like the sunshine or the birdsong. But me? I'm gonna miss me. I know it sounds selfish, self absorbed, but I spent so many years cultivating who I am as a person, and I'm gonna miss that person. A lot of time and effort went into making me who I am, and it hurts to know that I'll be gone, and I won't get to learn about new things I would enjoy or have new experiences I can remember fondly."
"I don't think that's selfish at all, in fact...I think that's very down to earth," Eliza said, "I think more people should think that way but, well...a lot of people hate themselves."
Liam chuckled, making Eliza smile weakly. She stared at his face, as if trying to burn it into her memory. This man. This man she'd known for over twenty years. He was going to be gone. How could she go on with that being the case? And what about the show? Liam had played such a pivotal role for so long - both behind the scenes, creatively and business wise as well as literally being a starring voice - that for them to lose him was almost...almost inconceivable to her. How would they go on?
"I'm not sure what to tell Bea, to be perfectly frank with you," Liam said.
"Well I think she's gonna find out sooner or later, once you die," Eliza replied, making Liam laugh.
"I just mean," he added, wiping his mouth on a napkin before setting it back down on the table, "it's going to be very hard on her. We've had a somewhat tumultous relationship, but we've been best friends for almost thirty years. I don't know how she's going to handle this. Hell, I don't know if she's going to handle this. She's already suffered so much loss..."
While Eliza continued to eat her brownie, Liam thought back to all the things Bea had lost. Her dog. Her mother. Claire. Goddamn Claire. Now he would be added to the list, nothing but a fond memory of something she loved with her whole heart that also had the gall to leave her behind, albeit unintentionally. He hoped, however, that she understood none of these were her fault, even Claire. They did what they had to do. Liam bit his lip and shook his head.
"When do we tell her?" Eliza asked, breaking his concentration, causing him to glance back in her direction.
"I don't know yet, but I'm sure the opportunity will present itself soon enough," he replied, shrugging.
Oh how right he would be.
***
Justine was standing in her home, laughing and talking with a small group of friends. She had a weekly meetup with a group of women, all of whom were childrens book authors or illustrators, and it was the one thing she looked forward to the most every week. Standing there in her white pencil skirt and her dark blue long sleeved blouse, her hair up, her makeup just right, she kept picking at the snacks she and others had laid out on the table for the get together as she listened to her friends stories and anecdotes and opinions on the industry and their lives in general. A knock at the door caught her attention though, and she went to answer it, only to find Casey standing on the porch, looking disheveled, her eyes darting everywhere.
"Hi," Justine said, as she glanced over her shoulder, then exited to the porch, closing the door behind her, "are you okay?"
"I just need someone to be nice to me for like five minutes, okay?" Casey asked. Justine nodded, and the two went to the porch swing, seating themselves side by side. Casey rubbed her blood red eyes and sniffled.
"What's going on?" Justine asked.
"I'm so tired," Casey mumbled, "I'm so tired."
"Get some sleep, go home and try to rest, cause you don't seem-"
"Not actually tired," Casey said, "tired of everything. Tired of existence. Being lied to, being used, being taken advantage of. Never being good enough."
"Who said you weren't good enough?" Justine asked, sounding upset.
"A lot of times there's no words, and it's the actions that prove it," Casey said, "never actually being a part of something, even when asked to be. Never being fully included or involved the way others are. I'm not even good enough to be working with you, let's be honest. My skill level compared to yours is garbage."
Justine reached out and put a hand on Casey's arm, then looked back at the door to her home, where her friends were still having fun together. Justine thought about asking Casey to join them, she was an artist after all, but she was unsure if this was the right decision; after all, she was the only one actually familiar with Casey and her work, her abilities. It might be awkward for everyone involved. Justine sighed and looked back at Casey.
"Can we maybe meet tomorrow?" Justine asked, "I'm currently doing something, and I do really want to talk to you, help if I can, but I'm literally right in the middle of this and-"
Casey lost it. She got up and she ran down the porch, stumbling as she slipped on the grass, then getting back up and heading across the street as a car nearly hit her. She screamed at them, kicked the grille of their car and then got back into her car and took off. Justine stayed on the porch, watching in shock. She felt awful. She shook her head and invited her in, or talked more to her, but she needed this meeting today for her own sanity. It's one of the few times she gets to feel okay about herself and her own life. Justine walked back to the door, opened it and stepped back inside, back to the serenity of her joy.
Meanwhile, as Michelle and Bea were heading to the parking lot, to their respective cars to head home, Bea couldn't shake the incident from earlier.
"You know," Bea said as they walked down the hall, sharing a small bag of chips, "I feel terrible. I feel like I should do something for Casey, make her feel more welcome and needed."
"I hate to say this, especially given all you've done for me, but...not everyone is your responsibility," Michelle said, chewing, stuffing chips in her mouth, "you can't save everyone, Bea, nor is it your duty to do so. I understand that you see yourself in me, in Eliza, in Casey, in Keagan...we're all artists and stuff. But, ya know, some people can't be saved or helped, especially if they won't let themselves be. I tried to get Casey into a drug program, but it didn't really take, and I tried to include her more in what I did, but she still felt like an outsider. She's a nice person but she's this...this self defeating, self fulfilling prophecy, and until she learns she can break free of it, nothing anyone does will ever really help her. She needs to WANT to be helped first. I know that's so tropey to say, but fuck it."
Bea nodded, listening. Bea thought about Claire. She thought about telling Michelle about Claire. It would help her understand so much more, but...but it also might complicate things. Raise more questions than provide context. Best to leave the past in the past, she figured. They exited and hit the parking lot, the evening starting to set in. Michelle and Bea had parked side by side, as they always had, and each reached out, opening their respective car doors before stopping and facing eachother once more.
"You know," Bea said, "I always put others ahead of myself, and maybe it's...maybe it's okay to do the opposite for once. Maybe you're right. Thank you, Michelle."
"Of course," Michelle replied, as they hugged one another, got into their cars and headed their opposite ways towards home. When Bea arrived, she found Leslie in the kitchen, already preparing dinner. Bea walked in and hugged her from behind, and felt such a sense of peace come over her, all her fears and doubts and anxieties melted away right then and there, that it was hard not to admit that nobody but herself was her responsibility and Michelle had been right after all. And Michelle, when she got home, she found Eliza sitting cross legged on the couch reading, and when she walked in, Eliza quickly scrambled off the couch and threw her arms around Michelle, surprising her as she kissed her face everywhere. Michelle giggled and returned the affection happily, before the two of them sat back down and talked about their day.
Casey, though, Casey pulled up and parked alongside the rail. She reached up, turned the little overhead light on and then retrieved a pen and paper from the glovebox of her car, uncapping the pen and scribbling something on it. She then stuck it into the windshield of her car from the inside and climbed out. Casey headed across the road from where she'd parked, to the opposite side, and looked over the edge. She was on an enormous bridge, the wind blowing her hair into her face, and she took a deep sigh.
It would be so easy. It would all be so easy. And what would she really be missing, after all? She just needed to be brave enough to do it.
But people often misunderstood the definition of bravery.