Bea was at a park, relaxing on a blanket in the sun. She was wearing a cute dress and a big floppy sunhat, with large sunglasses. The camera was fixated on her, and she hadn't noticed until just now. The scene then cut to a shot of Bea, still at the park, playing with Claire, who couldn't have been older than 4. The two were blowing bubbles, and looking like they were having the time of their life together. At one point, Bea would blow more bubbles, and Claire would excitedly attempt to pop them with her tiny hands, causing them both to laugh. The scene then cut to Bea driving, presumably heading home, while Claire was filmed asleep in the backseat. The camera panned back to Bea, who glanced over at it and smiled, then stuck her tongue out playfully before she and Liam, the one holding the camera, laughed. The scene then went dark, and Bea found herself staring back at a blackened phone screen.
When had he done this? When had he had all of these transferred? Some of these were so old. He'd kept all this film all these years, without even telling her? They'd agreed to relinquish anything remotely related to her. Then again, it wasn't like she'd abided by that rule herself, so how could she seriously admonish him for doing the same, really.
She sighed, scrolled through and picked another, lost in the memories of a life she'd loved.
***
"Tell me when too much is too much," Bea said as she spread chunky peanut butter on some bread, Claire sitting on a bar stool across from her at the counter. She was 6 years old. After a moment, Claire finally nodded, and Bea stopped, dropping the knife back on a paper towel on the countertop and screwing the lid back onto the jar before handing the sandwich over to Claire, who happily took it and started eating.
This wasn't the life Bea had expected to have. Not at all. Not by a longshot. The door opened and Liam came in, walking right by the kitchen and heading towards the back bedroom down the hall. Bea, concerned, walked past Claire and told her to keep eating whle she went to check on him. Once inside the room, which was still dark as he hadn't turned on any lights, she shut the door behind her and leaned back against it.
"....are you okay?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," Liam said, "I don't...I don't know."
"What's going on? What happened? I thought you were having a meeting with someone from-"
"I was, I was at the meeting," Liam said, "and...and I was sitting there, and I was listening to this man talk. Just the two of us, you know, just...just him and me. I was taking notes, and I was polite and...and the whole time I couldn't help but think, 'oh, this guy is handsome, I wish I looked like him, he has such nice hair', but the thing is, Bea, I don't think it's admiration for who I want to be, I think it's lust for who I want to have."
Bea nodded, sitting on the bed beside him, reaching out and putting a hand on his back.
"We can't keep playing house like this," Liam whispered, "at least I can't. I can't go on anymore pretending to be someone I'm not. She needs a family. We're not a family. She can't stay here. It isn't fair to anyone."
"What about to me?" Bea asked, "It isn't fair to me?"
"You're perfectly content just...hiding who you are from the world so you can continue doing what you do?" Liam asked, "really? Pretending to be someone you're not for the sake of the public eye? Because I'm sure as shit not, and you shouldn't be either."
"This wasn't a choice we made but it was a choice we were given, and I'm not about to fuck that up," Bea said sternly, surprising Liam with her brash language as she often didn't swear; she cleared her throat and continued, "and yes, I'm happy ignoring who I am. You might be comfortable with yourself, but I never will be. There's absolutely no way I could ever be okay with that. You can't be...that way, and work in childrens media. Considering the show and what I bring to kids lives is so important to me, yes, I'm fully willing to ignore that part of myself forever."
With that, she stood back up, smoothed her dress and walked back to the door, gripping the knob.
"But that doesn't mean you have to be," Bea said, "you're more than free to explore yourself, to be who you are, I would never deny you that, but don't deny me what I want either."
And she exited the room. Liam sat in the darkness, the silence, confused as to how to progress without blowing everything up. He sighed and flopped onto his back, laying there for a bit until the door opened back up and, he assumed it being Bea, he glanced at the door only to see Claire climbing onto the bed beside him. She curled up by him and rested her head on him, so he ran his fingers gently through her hair.
"Are you okay?" she asked and he smiled, nodding. Because, yes, in this very moment, he was, in fact, okay.
***
Beatrice was in the grocery store.
She wasn't really thinking of buying anything in particular, as much as she was staring at objects on the shelf. After a moment, she reached out and grabbed a box of pasta, then turned it over to read the back.
"It's good to read the classics," a voice said beside her, surprising her; she turned and saw a woman about her age standing there, basket on her arm full of items, smirking as she added, "me, personally, I love the story of Rigatoni more than that of Ravioli, I think it has better character development."
Bea snickered and put the box back on the shelf.
"Frankly, I'm partial to the storytelling in Gnocchi myself," she replied, "I think it relies far less on tropes."
The woman cackled, and her laughter made Bea's heart swim. But she quickly pushed that feeling back down, went back to ignoring it, and continued shopping, occasionally side eyeing the woman. She was about the same age, dressed in a button down blouse and tight jeans, with a cardigan. She had her hair up in a braided bun of sorts, her makeup perfect like she'd had it professionally done. Everything about her looked...pristine. Beatrice liked order. The woman sighed as she grabbed a few other boxes off the shelf and plopped them into the basket.
"Gotta have easy to make food cause I don't feel like cooking most of the time," she said, "the last thing I want to do when I get home from work is then work some more in a different way. I just want to eat, for god sakes, not be forced to be a five star chef."
"What do you do for a living?" Bea asked, giving into temptation.
"I'm a five star chef," the woman responded, the both of them laughing; she continued, "I work downtown in an upscale restaurant, I'm the head chef there, so, as I said, last thing I wanna do is take my work home with me. For all the spices and seasonings and different ways to cook, in the end, I'd prefer simplicity for myself. Maybe it's so I can give others my all in the kitchen, I don't know, but that's just how it goes."
"I wish I could be like that," Bea mumbled, picking a jar of pasta sauce off the shelf, "I feel like what I do is all encompassing, and there's no escape from it. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want my life to be anything but, but some days it would be nice to forget who I am and what it is I do, and just...exist. You know?"
And that admission was all it took, really.
Soon, Bea and this woman, Pauline, were spending so much time together. Bea would always be going to her place for dinner, they would go out and do fun activities together, and they loved listening to one another talk. At some point, Bea realized now what Liam had been talking about. How he couldn't hide anymore. She was now face to face with that herself, and she didn't want to ever go back. But that meant dropping the facade. Letting it all fall away and giving into selfishness. And what kind of a child could be happy surrounded by people who constantly lied to pretend to be okay around her? She thought about Claire. She thought about the kind of message that would send, to keep hiding, to never truly be your authentic self. And what was the alternative?
Laying in Pauline's bed one late evening, as Pauline smoked beside her while Bea stared up at the ceiling, one forearm resting on her head, she couldn't come to any conclusion where there was a good outcome for all involved. She'd run away from this aspect of herself for so long, her whole life, really, and now here she was, faced with it. In a way, though she'd never admit it, she hated Liam for this more for far longer than she hated him for giving into the industry. She'd crafted this carefully curated facade, a mask that she could wear to exist in society, and now it had slipped and broken into a million pieces on the floor, and it was all his goddamn fault for questioning in the first place. She knew, as an adult later on, that he was right to do so. Nobody should have to live a life of quiet desperation, but still. Pauline stubbed her cigarette out, then rolled onto her side and kissed Bea's bare shoulder, resting her head on her.
"When can I see you again?" Pauline asked, and Bea wanted to cry. She wanted the answer to be 'every day'. She wanted this life. With this woman. A woman. She was, like Liam, tired of playing house. Not for Claire's sake, she loved that little girl to the ends of the earth and back, but because society saw it as she was a straight woman with a straight man when that couldn't be further from the truth.
"I'll call you," Bea said, as she climbed out of bed, got dressed and left. That age old excuse. A blowoff technique. You're never going to call them. And it hurt. It burned her up inside to say that to a woman she genuinely liked and wanted to pursue romantically, but she just couldn't allow herself. Not if she wanted to keep working in the industry of childrens media. Not if she wanted to keep what she had.So instead she went home, she went back to being there for Claire, to pretending to be happy with Liam, all the while feeling her repressed sexuality clawing at her rib cage like an enraged animal eager to escape.She would lay in bed at night beside Liam, and she would think about Pauline. She would think about how, if she could just have this life she had right now, but with her, with a woman in general, how normal that would feel.
She'd never openly admit it, but Liam had ruined her life. In both the best and the worst kinds of ways.
***
Another video, this one showcasing Claire learning to ride a bike. Training wheels, of course, but still. Bea was walking down the city street, hand placed on her back to help steady her, as Liam filmed from behind. Another video. A birthday. Claire had just turned 6. Presents and cake and joy. Another video, this time presenting Bea with a trip they'd all taken to the zoo together. Memories from a whole other life, long since disavowed. Buried as far back in the closet as she herself had once been. Bea lowered the phone between her knees and hung her head, sobbing silently. Why had he given her this? Why had this been what he left for her? Did he think this would make her happy? This felt like cruelty, not love.
The night the truth finally came out, the night they finally had to discuss it. God. The aching inside them both they felt. She could remember it so clearly, even without the visual aide of it being filmed, which, thank god, it hadn't been. They were sitting in Claire's bedroom, she had gone to a friends house from school for a sleepover. It was only 7 months after ending things with Pauline. Claire was still 6. Sitting on the floor of her bedroom together, Beatrice couldn't help but feel like each already knew it was over. Liam leaned back against the wall from the floor and ran his hands up through his hair, as he had a tendency to do when anxious.
"Funny how one room can be so full of love and the rest of the house can be so devoid of it," Bea muttered.
"That's because we love her. We don't love ourselves, because we aren't ourselves," Liam replied.
Bea nodded, understanding, agreeing. Liam exhaled.
"On paper it makes total sense," Bea said, "you and I. It made sense in the moment, because neither of us really knew. But...it doesn't really make sense, does it? As creative partners, sure, but not romantic partners. At least, not to us. Maybe to those outside looking in. But not to us. The ones involved."
"What about Claire?" Liam asked, his voice low, like he was scared to even asked.
"She'll be okay," Bea said, stiffling her own sobs, "she'll be fine. We'll find people. She's 6. She's young. She'll barely remember. We'll find people who can give her more than we ever could've. We didn't plan on this anyway. She deserves better. All I know, Liam, is that...is that you and I...we found one another, and...and we changed one another in ways we never could've expected. I am who I am because you embraced who you are. Without eachother, we might've gone on throughout our lives denying ourselves our personhood. I love Claire so much, but...but this is the best way forward."
Liam looked at Bea, who was looking at the floor, sitting cross legged on the carpet, her fingers playing with the pieces of a large puzzle portraying various dogs.
"We're beards, Liam," Bea said, before whispering, breaking into tears, "and I don't know about you, but I'm tired of not shaving."
Liam nodded, then crawled across the floor and held her, the both of them sobbing. Bea clicked through to another video, the last one on the phone. She'd gone through them all now, and had finally reached the end. This was when Liam had first gotten the camera, just in time for the momentous occasion. This was back when fathers were allowed in the delivery room. Back when they could film births. He was watching Beatrice on the hospital bed, screaming in agony as a doctor and some nurses surrounded her, trying to help ease the process.
"You're doin' great, just think of all the ice cream you're gonna get after this!" Liam said, and Bea glared at him.
"As soon as I'm off this bed I'm going to strangle you!" she shouted, and he laughed, as did she. Even in her supposed angriest, she couldn't help but be kidding with him. The whole thing was filmed, from entering the hospital to the birth itself, and, at the end, Beatrice was holding this newborn girl in her arms in the bed as Liam kept filming, occasionally reaching into frame to touch them both gently. After a little bit, Bea looked towards the camera and smiled warmly.
"What do you think?" Liam asked.
"I think even a mistake has benefits," Bea said, chuckling, "...what do you think of the name Claire?"
"I love it," he replied, leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, the camera cutting off, presumably running out of battery. And now Bea was alone again. Without her daughter. Without the man who'd given her to her. Without anything. Face staring back at her in the blackened phone screen once more. She no longer had a connection to that life.
And everything was worse now.
***
Laying against the bookshelf, the apartment a mess, the phone still in one hand as Bea stared at the ceiling above her, she didn't know how to go on. The sound of the quiet, empty apartment complex surrounded her, suffocating her in slence. Just like Claire, he'd been here, and now he was gone. She was completely alone now. That entire life was gone. Nothing left to give her the sense of connection now. All that was left was this phone, with these videos. She smirked at the irony. After Marvin had died, Bea had done the same, given Liam an unlisted video wishing him well, so it was beautifully circular for him to have done the same. She exhaled and shut her eyes, feeling herself shut down. How could she possibly go on after this? He was her other half. The show, as it was, didn't exist without him, so how could it exist if he didn't? The front door opened, and Bea was surprised, she thought she'd locked it. Standing there was Michelle.
Michelle looked at the apartment, then looked down at Bea. The two locked eyes but neither said a word. After a few minutes, Michelle entered the apartment, picked up best she could, and managed to get things into a somewhat presentable manner again, for when Leslie gets back. When she felt she was finished, she opened her coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope, plopping it onto the coffee table, causing Bea to raise an eyebrow in confusion as Michelle turned to her and said, "tickets, for the Thanksgiving Day Parade. They want you to give a speech." Bea nodded in acknowledgement. Michelle then walked over to where Bea was, slumped on the floor against the bookshelf and reached out with one hand.
"Now get up," Michelle said, "you have work to do."
When had he done this? When had he had all of these transferred? Some of these were so old. He'd kept all this film all these years, without even telling her? They'd agreed to relinquish anything remotely related to her. Then again, it wasn't like she'd abided by that rule herself, so how could she seriously admonish him for doing the same, really.
She sighed, scrolled through and picked another, lost in the memories of a life she'd loved.
***
"Tell me when too much is too much," Bea said as she spread chunky peanut butter on some bread, Claire sitting on a bar stool across from her at the counter. She was 6 years old. After a moment, Claire finally nodded, and Bea stopped, dropping the knife back on a paper towel on the countertop and screwing the lid back onto the jar before handing the sandwich over to Claire, who happily took it and started eating.
This wasn't the life Bea had expected to have. Not at all. Not by a longshot. The door opened and Liam came in, walking right by the kitchen and heading towards the back bedroom down the hall. Bea, concerned, walked past Claire and told her to keep eating whle she went to check on him. Once inside the room, which was still dark as he hadn't turned on any lights, she shut the door behind her and leaned back against it.
"....are you okay?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," Liam said, "I don't...I don't know."
"What's going on? What happened? I thought you were having a meeting with someone from-"
"I was, I was at the meeting," Liam said, "and...and I was sitting there, and I was listening to this man talk. Just the two of us, you know, just...just him and me. I was taking notes, and I was polite and...and the whole time I couldn't help but think, 'oh, this guy is handsome, I wish I looked like him, he has such nice hair', but the thing is, Bea, I don't think it's admiration for who I want to be, I think it's lust for who I want to have."
Bea nodded, sitting on the bed beside him, reaching out and putting a hand on his back.
"We can't keep playing house like this," Liam whispered, "at least I can't. I can't go on anymore pretending to be someone I'm not. She needs a family. We're not a family. She can't stay here. It isn't fair to anyone."
"What about to me?" Bea asked, "It isn't fair to me?"
"You're perfectly content just...hiding who you are from the world so you can continue doing what you do?" Liam asked, "really? Pretending to be someone you're not for the sake of the public eye? Because I'm sure as shit not, and you shouldn't be either."
"This wasn't a choice we made but it was a choice we were given, and I'm not about to fuck that up," Bea said sternly, surprising Liam with her brash language as she often didn't swear; she cleared her throat and continued, "and yes, I'm happy ignoring who I am. You might be comfortable with yourself, but I never will be. There's absolutely no way I could ever be okay with that. You can't be...that way, and work in childrens media. Considering the show and what I bring to kids lives is so important to me, yes, I'm fully willing to ignore that part of myself forever."
With that, she stood back up, smoothed her dress and walked back to the door, gripping the knob.
"But that doesn't mean you have to be," Bea said, "you're more than free to explore yourself, to be who you are, I would never deny you that, but don't deny me what I want either."
And she exited the room. Liam sat in the darkness, the silence, confused as to how to progress without blowing everything up. He sighed and flopped onto his back, laying there for a bit until the door opened back up and, he assumed it being Bea, he glanced at the door only to see Claire climbing onto the bed beside him. She curled up by him and rested her head on him, so he ran his fingers gently through her hair.
"Are you okay?" she asked and he smiled, nodding. Because, yes, in this very moment, he was, in fact, okay.
***
Beatrice was in the grocery store.
She wasn't really thinking of buying anything in particular, as much as she was staring at objects on the shelf. After a moment, she reached out and grabbed a box of pasta, then turned it over to read the back.
"It's good to read the classics," a voice said beside her, surprising her; she turned and saw a woman about her age standing there, basket on her arm full of items, smirking as she added, "me, personally, I love the story of Rigatoni more than that of Ravioli, I think it has better character development."
Bea snickered and put the box back on the shelf.
"Frankly, I'm partial to the storytelling in Gnocchi myself," she replied, "I think it relies far less on tropes."
The woman cackled, and her laughter made Bea's heart swim. But she quickly pushed that feeling back down, went back to ignoring it, and continued shopping, occasionally side eyeing the woman. She was about the same age, dressed in a button down blouse and tight jeans, with a cardigan. She had her hair up in a braided bun of sorts, her makeup perfect like she'd had it professionally done. Everything about her looked...pristine. Beatrice liked order. The woman sighed as she grabbed a few other boxes off the shelf and plopped them into the basket.
"Gotta have easy to make food cause I don't feel like cooking most of the time," she said, "the last thing I want to do when I get home from work is then work some more in a different way. I just want to eat, for god sakes, not be forced to be a five star chef."
"What do you do for a living?" Bea asked, giving into temptation.
"I'm a five star chef," the woman responded, the both of them laughing; she continued, "I work downtown in an upscale restaurant, I'm the head chef there, so, as I said, last thing I wanna do is take my work home with me. For all the spices and seasonings and different ways to cook, in the end, I'd prefer simplicity for myself. Maybe it's so I can give others my all in the kitchen, I don't know, but that's just how it goes."
"I wish I could be like that," Bea mumbled, picking a jar of pasta sauce off the shelf, "I feel like what I do is all encompassing, and there's no escape from it. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want my life to be anything but, but some days it would be nice to forget who I am and what it is I do, and just...exist. You know?"
And that admission was all it took, really.
Soon, Bea and this woman, Pauline, were spending so much time together. Bea would always be going to her place for dinner, they would go out and do fun activities together, and they loved listening to one another talk. At some point, Bea realized now what Liam had been talking about. How he couldn't hide anymore. She was now face to face with that herself, and she didn't want to ever go back. But that meant dropping the facade. Letting it all fall away and giving into selfishness. And what kind of a child could be happy surrounded by people who constantly lied to pretend to be okay around her? She thought about Claire. She thought about the kind of message that would send, to keep hiding, to never truly be your authentic self. And what was the alternative?
Laying in Pauline's bed one late evening, as Pauline smoked beside her while Bea stared up at the ceiling, one forearm resting on her head, she couldn't come to any conclusion where there was a good outcome for all involved. She'd run away from this aspect of herself for so long, her whole life, really, and now here she was, faced with it. In a way, though she'd never admit it, she hated Liam for this more for far longer than she hated him for giving into the industry. She'd crafted this carefully curated facade, a mask that she could wear to exist in society, and now it had slipped and broken into a million pieces on the floor, and it was all his goddamn fault for questioning in the first place. She knew, as an adult later on, that he was right to do so. Nobody should have to live a life of quiet desperation, but still. Pauline stubbed her cigarette out, then rolled onto her side and kissed Bea's bare shoulder, resting her head on her.
"When can I see you again?" Pauline asked, and Bea wanted to cry. She wanted the answer to be 'every day'. She wanted this life. With this woman. A woman. She was, like Liam, tired of playing house. Not for Claire's sake, she loved that little girl to the ends of the earth and back, but because society saw it as she was a straight woman with a straight man when that couldn't be further from the truth.
"I'll call you," Bea said, as she climbed out of bed, got dressed and left. That age old excuse. A blowoff technique. You're never going to call them. And it hurt. It burned her up inside to say that to a woman she genuinely liked and wanted to pursue romantically, but she just couldn't allow herself. Not if she wanted to keep working in the industry of childrens media. Not if she wanted to keep what she had.So instead she went home, she went back to being there for Claire, to pretending to be happy with Liam, all the while feeling her repressed sexuality clawing at her rib cage like an enraged animal eager to escape.She would lay in bed at night beside Liam, and she would think about Pauline. She would think about how, if she could just have this life she had right now, but with her, with a woman in general, how normal that would feel.
She'd never openly admit it, but Liam had ruined her life. In both the best and the worst kinds of ways.
***
Another video, this one showcasing Claire learning to ride a bike. Training wheels, of course, but still. Bea was walking down the city street, hand placed on her back to help steady her, as Liam filmed from behind. Another video. A birthday. Claire had just turned 6. Presents and cake and joy. Another video, this time presenting Bea with a trip they'd all taken to the zoo together. Memories from a whole other life, long since disavowed. Buried as far back in the closet as she herself had once been. Bea lowered the phone between her knees and hung her head, sobbing silently. Why had he given her this? Why had this been what he left for her? Did he think this would make her happy? This felt like cruelty, not love.
The night the truth finally came out, the night they finally had to discuss it. God. The aching inside them both they felt. She could remember it so clearly, even without the visual aide of it being filmed, which, thank god, it hadn't been. They were sitting in Claire's bedroom, she had gone to a friends house from school for a sleepover. It was only 7 months after ending things with Pauline. Claire was still 6. Sitting on the floor of her bedroom together, Beatrice couldn't help but feel like each already knew it was over. Liam leaned back against the wall from the floor and ran his hands up through his hair, as he had a tendency to do when anxious.
"Funny how one room can be so full of love and the rest of the house can be so devoid of it," Bea muttered.
"That's because we love her. We don't love ourselves, because we aren't ourselves," Liam replied.
Bea nodded, understanding, agreeing. Liam exhaled.
"On paper it makes total sense," Bea said, "you and I. It made sense in the moment, because neither of us really knew. But...it doesn't really make sense, does it? As creative partners, sure, but not romantic partners. At least, not to us. Maybe to those outside looking in. But not to us. The ones involved."
"What about Claire?" Liam asked, his voice low, like he was scared to even asked.
"She'll be okay," Bea said, stiffling her own sobs, "she'll be fine. We'll find people. She's 6. She's young. She'll barely remember. We'll find people who can give her more than we ever could've. We didn't plan on this anyway. She deserves better. All I know, Liam, is that...is that you and I...we found one another, and...and we changed one another in ways we never could've expected. I am who I am because you embraced who you are. Without eachother, we might've gone on throughout our lives denying ourselves our personhood. I love Claire so much, but...but this is the best way forward."
Liam looked at Bea, who was looking at the floor, sitting cross legged on the carpet, her fingers playing with the pieces of a large puzzle portraying various dogs.
"We're beards, Liam," Bea said, before whispering, breaking into tears, "and I don't know about you, but I'm tired of not shaving."
Liam nodded, then crawled across the floor and held her, the both of them sobbing. Bea clicked through to another video, the last one on the phone. She'd gone through them all now, and had finally reached the end. This was when Liam had first gotten the camera, just in time for the momentous occasion. This was back when fathers were allowed in the delivery room. Back when they could film births. He was watching Beatrice on the hospital bed, screaming in agony as a doctor and some nurses surrounded her, trying to help ease the process.
"You're doin' great, just think of all the ice cream you're gonna get after this!" Liam said, and Bea glared at him.
"As soon as I'm off this bed I'm going to strangle you!" she shouted, and he laughed, as did she. Even in her supposed angriest, she couldn't help but be kidding with him. The whole thing was filmed, from entering the hospital to the birth itself, and, at the end, Beatrice was holding this newborn girl in her arms in the bed as Liam kept filming, occasionally reaching into frame to touch them both gently. After a little bit, Bea looked towards the camera and smiled warmly.
"What do you think?" Liam asked.
"I think even a mistake has benefits," Bea said, chuckling, "...what do you think of the name Claire?"
"I love it," he replied, leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, the camera cutting off, presumably running out of battery. And now Bea was alone again. Without her daughter. Without the man who'd given her to her. Without anything. Face staring back at her in the blackened phone screen once more. She no longer had a connection to that life.
And everything was worse now.
***
Laying against the bookshelf, the apartment a mess, the phone still in one hand as Bea stared at the ceiling above her, she didn't know how to go on. The sound of the quiet, empty apartment complex surrounded her, suffocating her in slence. Just like Claire, he'd been here, and now he was gone. She was completely alone now. That entire life was gone. Nothing left to give her the sense of connection now. All that was left was this phone, with these videos. She smirked at the irony. After Marvin had died, Bea had done the same, given Liam an unlisted video wishing him well, so it was beautifully circular for him to have done the same. She exhaled and shut her eyes, feeling herself shut down. How could she possibly go on after this? He was her other half. The show, as it was, didn't exist without him, so how could it exist if he didn't? The front door opened, and Bea was surprised, she thought she'd locked it. Standing there was Michelle.
Michelle looked at the apartment, then looked down at Bea. The two locked eyes but neither said a word. After a few minutes, Michelle entered the apartment, picked up best she could, and managed to get things into a somewhat presentable manner again, for when Leslie gets back. When she felt she was finished, she opened her coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope, plopping it onto the coffee table, causing Bea to raise an eyebrow in confusion as Michelle turned to her and said, "tickets, for the Thanksgiving Day Parade. They want you to give a speech." Bea nodded in acknowledgement. Michelle then walked over to where Bea was, slumped on the floor against the bookshelf and reached out with one hand.
"Now get up," Michelle said, "you have work to do."