When she was a little girl, Amelia Burden used to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on television every year, mostly because of the balloons. Those great gas giants, hoisted high above the crowd, representing the most beloved childrens media that the country had to offer. She could remember sitting in front of the television with Beatrice by her side, scratching her gently behind the ear, her eyes wide in awe at the spectacle unfolding before her.
The thing was, she didn't make any proclamation of fame or state any big dreams she hoped to one day achieve, she didn't say, in a hushed voice, the kind of sentence that whispers and origin story destined to become reality where she claimed, only loud enough for the dog to hear, that she would one day have a balloon in this very parade, because, well, until things went belly up in her life, Amelia didn't really have much interest in the performing arts. She liked writing plays, stories, sure. But it wasn't until college, until Beatrice passed away, that she felt this innate drive to create something, and really, it was for her own grief, but under the guise of helping children, not that she'd ever openly admit to that.
Now, as an adult, standing in the large hanger where the Beatrice Beagle balloon was being prepared for its debut in the parade that early evening, Bea couldn't help but feel something else...a sense of disconnect between herself and this character she'd long since crafted and held dear. Leslie was beside her, smoking a joint, as they watched the balloons preparation.. After a few minutes, Bea, who'd been chewing on her lip up to now, hands shoved deep in her coat pockets, sighed.
"I think the issue is that she's me," she said.
"...okay, I know I'm smoking weed, but even I'm not stoned enough yet to understand the existentialism of that statement. Care to elaborate?" Leslie asked, causing Bea to chuckle.
"Liam used to tell me that I was too protective of her, and that was why I had such a hard time letting her go, letting her be the publics, and not mine. But I don't think it's because of what she meant to me, I think it's because she WAS me. I took her on as a second identity. In a way, it felt like the public was claiming ownership of me, not the character."
"And what, do you think, is the solution to that?" Leslie asked.
"...I think I wanna go back to my name," Bea said, "I think I've run from my identity for so long, that I've forgotten who I used to be, and actually am. I'm not Beatrice Beagle. She's a character based on a dog I had when I was a child. I'm Amelia Burden. Maybe it's time to embrace that."
Leslie smiled warmly and clung to Bea's arm, hugging tightly.
"You do whatever you think is best, and I'm behind you one hundred percent," Leslie said.
It had been two weeks since Liam had died, and Michelle had found Bea in that destroyed apartment, and since then, she'd been making the concerted effort to be better, more stable. But it was hard. She missed Liam more than anyone could ever know or imagine. The phone he'd left her had filled her with so much doubt about her life choices, with regret, even though he'd obviously intended it as some sort of sweet send-off. Bea now was simply keeping everything internalized instead of expressing things to anyone, at least when it came to emotional stuff like that. She did, however, really feel the need to revisit her actual identity.
"And just remember," Leslie said, kissing Bea on the cheek, "no matter who you are, I'll love you all the same."
Bea blushed and kissed Leslie back on the forehead, the two of them cuddling as they looked up at the balloon. It had been a hard year, but it was now the holidays, and if Bea could just get through her Thanksgiving speech, she would be in the clear until the next season started.
***
"Yes, hello, I'm trying to reach the offices of Beatrice Beagle," the woman said, "it's very important that I speak with her. If you could just put me through, I would be so grateful, or if you have a personal number I could reach her at, that would be even better, because if I get lumped in with work calls and such, I don't know how long it'll take for her to get back to me. Please reach me at this number once you get this message, thank you."
She sighed and hung up the phone, then walked over to a large corkboard she had posted on her bedroom wall, removed a few index cards with numbers and info that had gone nowhere, and tossed them into the garbage. She then pulled the one with the number she'd just dialed down to the forefront, hoping this would be the one to get her what she wanted. She stood back and sighed, hands on her hips. She was so close.
So very, very close.
***
"We've opened up the phone lines for the first time broadcast of the radio program, Keagan is in the box right now preparing to take calls," Stephanie said, "are you ready?"
Bea shrugged as she sipped her cocoa, sitting in Liam's old office, her legs up on his desk as Stephanie paced in front of it.
"I know it's been hard, it's...it's weird not having him here," Stephanie said, "and if we can just make it through tonight, through this speech and parade, we'll all have time to properly grieve and mourn and work through it, alone and together. I miss him too, Bea. I really do. He was kind of a force to be reckoned with, especially in the business world, because he was cutthroat even if he didn't seem like. Always willing to go to bat for those he believed in, knowing they deserved better."
"Speech is ready, I'm ready, what more do you want from me?" Bea asked flatly, staring at Stephanie as she poured in more tiny marshmallows into her mug and stirred, adding, "there's only so much assurance of stability that I can promise you, really."
"Bea," Stephanie said, sitting on the desk now, "let me send you and Leslie somewhere after this. I'll pay for your vacation, okay? You guys deserve some time outside of this environment, outside the city in general. Go have some fun together somewhere, alright? It's...it's been a lot this year, between Casey and then Liam and...you just...I think you need time to recuperate."
Bea nodded slowly, acknowledging that Stephanie wasn't wrong, honestly. A break would be really nice, in fact. She checked her wristwatch and sighed.
"Where the hell is Michelle?" she muttered.
Little did she know that Michelle was, in fact, on company property. She just happened to be in The Hole. As she entered, she found Eliza standing underneath a ceiling covered in puppets and marionettes, looking up at them like one looks up at a star filled sky. Michelle approached slowly, so as not to startle her, and when she got close enough, Eliza finally realized she wasn't alone and she looked down at Michelle, who smiled, pulled her in and kissed her briefly before looking back up above with her.
"What are you doing in here?" Michelle asked.
"I'm thinking about all the puppets I've made," Eliza said, "I've spent more time with felt than with people. Does that make me weird?"
"Trust me, that isn't the thing that makes you weird," Michelle said, making Eliza blush as Michelle giggled and kissed her on the cheek, adding, "you're passionate, and that's admirable. I'm passionate too. That's why Bea brought us in. She gathers up people that have the same drive and ambition creatively that she has, so that can never be a negative thing, trust me."
Eliza rested her head on Michelle's shoulder as Michelle ran her long fingers up into Eliza's hair, playing with it.
"People say 'art is dead' because all they see is commodification," Eliza said, surprising Michelle, as she added, "they rarely see people using art as ways to express their pain, their anguish, their joy anymore, and instead it's all about making a franchise, creating a long-lasting IP, and so they say that art is dead. They're just not looking in the right places, is the thing. They only see those things because the mainstream media has so co-opted entertainment and shut out the little productions that it becomes hard to see the genuine stuff that gets made. The stuff with heart in it. Art isn't dead, and working on this show proves that. I put my heart into every single one of these puppets-"
"Creepy, like a satanic ritual," Michelle said, making Eliza laugh; she continued.
"-so I know firsthand that they mean something because I put meaning into them. Like that puppet Keagan and I made together. That was for a specific cause, it had a very real reason to exist, and it's only done good for people since it was introduced. The people who say art is dead are the people who didn't understand art in the first place."
Michelle couldn't be more proud of Eliza. She was starting to sound like Beatrice, and that was not a negative. Michelle pressed her face into Eliza's hair and breathed her in, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly, slowly swaying back and forth in silence for a few minutes as they both looked upward at the marionette chandelier overhead.
"Are you ready to see Bea's speech, the parade?" Michelle asked, and Eliza nodded. Eliza then pulled away and turned around, facing Michelle, looking her dead in the eyes, before taking Michelle's face between her hands and pressing her lips to her own.
"We can go in a few minutes," Eliza whispered, "I wanna stay here and kiss you first."
"That's good enough for me," Michelle replied, giggling more, happily kissing her back.
***
Keagan took a deep breath as she tugged her headphones fully over her ears, looking back towards Stephanie. She exhaled as Steph gave her a thumbs up and a nod, grinning, before Keagan lit up the switchboard and went live. She breathed for a moment, and then she spoke.
"Hello and welcome to the show, my name is Keagan Stills, and this is our very first episode, so please bear with us as we try to get things under way," she said, "this radio program is produced as a means to take calls, field questions, speak to the wonderful young audience we have that support us, as well as any creative person who might want to discuss the ins and outs of production. You may recognize my voice, that's because I play Serena on the show. In fact, I not only play Serena, I was integral to her creation, being asked firsthand to help bring her to life with the help, of course, of our amazing puppet master Eliza Tartt. With that in mind, I'm your host, and let's get things underway with our very first caller," Keagan said, before hearing Steph snap her fingers at her, causing her to look back; Steph was holding a sign that simply read 'SPEECH' and Keagan nodded, adding, "right, and I've just been reminded of course that Beatrice is giving a speech at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade tonight, so be sure to either tune into that or, if you're able, see her life in person. We're now opening the lines up for calls."
Steph smiled, nodding as she leaned back against the wall and watched. She knew Keagan would be perfect. Not enough people gave Keagan credit around her, she'd sort of fallen into the background rotation of crew, despite being a literal integral part of why this show existed to begin with, and Steph really felt like it was time for her to be recognized for her abilities. She wanted to uplift her best she could, because she saw a lot of herself in Keagan. Ambitious, driven, business savy. She knew what she was capable of, and she was more than willing to give her the chance to exercise those abilities to their fullest. Thing is...it hadn't been her idea.
"We have multiple sound stages, sound booths, and this space is basically being wasted," Liam had said to her just weeks prior, "we could produce something here. Extra content means extra eyes. Extra attention on the product. We produce a radio show, a storytelling show. Once a week a different story, generally featuring a different character, will be told through this show, and then every fifth episode we can have maybe interviews, behind the scenes stuff, and at the end of every episode we have calls from kids. We need to connect directly with the audience without a screen or a force field of some kind in front of us."
"I love the way your brain works, man," Stephanie said, shaking her head in awe, "and, you're right, we have the resources. I can gather up some potential applicants, we can run through them together, see who fits best, and-"
"No," Liam said, coughing as he waved his hand at her, "no, it's Keagan. I want Keagan."
This, Steph admitted, surprised her. Liam continued.
"Let me explain," he said, his voice sounding froggish, as he added, "Michelle and Bea are close. It's understandable. They're very alike, they're both very passionate about the show, about what they enjoy and do, and their hearts are set in the same place. Their connection makes sense. But this whole thing...this whole endeavor, wouldn't even exist if it weren't for Keagan, and it's goddamned high time she got recognition for it. She's the one who wrote about Marvin's death, not Michelle. She's the one who tracked me down, not Michelle. Together, the two formed and unstoppable force dedicated to bringing us back, but it all started at Keagan. It has to be her. She can't just be relegated to a voice for a puppet and menial task work. She deserves more."
Stephanie felt like crying. This man...this man had gone out of his way time and time again to defend Beatrice, to help Michelle, to bring so many womens dreams to fruition. All he cared about, it seemed, was helping prop women up in a position of power. Steph wiped at her eyes and nodded.
"Yeah, okay sure, yes, it can be Keagan," Steph said, "let me do some budgeting, stuff like that, and I will approach her."
Steph, now back from her memory, looked at the spot beside her where, just weeks earlier, Liam had stood, and they'd had this conversation. She then exited, quietly, swiftly, out into the hall as Keagan broadcasted, and cried into her hands. She hadn't really mourned Liam's death just yet, and now, seeing this dream of his come true, she couldn't help but finally lose it. The man had been a force of nature, of business savy, and now he was gone. But, she thought, though he may be gone, his ideas would continue. His influence would be felt. She wouldn't tell anyone this, but on the night Liam died, when she'd heard, she snuck into The Hole and she took one of his characters puppets to take home with her, that adorable little Cactus he'd voiced for years. Stephanie's home was full of plants.
What did one more hurt.
***
Beatrice, Michelle, Eliza and Leslie were standing on a balcony overlooking the parade. Beatrice hated crowds, and so the idea of speaking to one right now made her overly anxious. She lit another cigarette and exhaled smoke into the air as Leslie ran her fingertips down her spine, trying to calm her down. Michelle downed her drink, then looked at Bea.
"You gonna be okay, chief?" she asked.
"I'll manage, I'm nothing if not experienced at this point," Bea said, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I've got the jitters, but it'll be okay."
"I am going to go in search of snacks," Leslie said, "Eliza, care to join me?"
"I could snack," Eliza said, the two of them heading away from the balcony and exiting the room into the hallway of the hotel, leaving Bea and Michelle alone together. Michelle rested her head on Beatrice's shoulder and Bea smiled, resting her head against Michelle's.
"I wish Liam was here," Michelle whispered.
"I know, sweetheart, I do too," Bea said softly, "I miss him more than anything. He was my best friend. He knew me in ways nobody else ever has, and probably never will. Michelle, there's something I want to give you. I know the holidays aren't for another month, but I'll be on vacation, so I want to give this to you now."
Bea walked back into the room, retrieved something, then came back out onto the balcony. She opened a small jewelry box and pulled out a little bracelet with gemstones on it. Michelle held out her wrist and Bea slipped it on carefully.
"This," Bea said, "was something from my mother. She had as long as I could remember, and when I started succeeding in the arts, she gave it to me. I'm giving it now to you. Losing Liam has made me really think about the people in my life who mean the world to me, who I would do anything for, and there's nobody closer to the top of that list than you are."
Michelle wanted to cry as she looked up from her wrist to Bea, their eyes meeting. Bea reached out and carefully pushed some of her hair back behind her ear, smiling warmly.
"I fucked up," Bea continued, "I wasn't there for Casey the way I had been there for you, or Eliza, or other young women when they needed someone. I failed her. I will never forgive myself for that. But...I can do better for the ones I still have. None of you really have moms, and if you do, like you do, they aren't worth having. The age I am now, I'm not going to have kids, that opportunity has passed me by, but that doesn't mean I don't see you as my daughter. For god sakes, Michelle, you have part of my organs inside of you, hah, so I think it's clear we are connected at this point. I wanted to give you this because my mom gave it to me, and now I am a mother to you, even if not by blood."
They stared at one another again, before Bea grabbed Michelle by the shoulders and very gently pulled her in for a hug, the both of them crying happily.
"I love you, Michelle, happy holidays," Bea whispered.
"I love you too," Michelle replied, squeezing tighter and tighter. After the hug, Bea pulled away and exhaled, then wiped her face down and smiled.
"Well," Bea said, "Guess I got a speech to make."
Michelle watched Bea leave the room, and watched her re-emergence outside below the balcony. She stepped up onto the makeshift stage they'd created, as the parade continued around them, and the crowd clapped at seeing her. Michelle smiled so big, she couldn't have asked for a better outcome in life than to be here with not only her hero, but now her surrogate mother. Bea cleared her throat and tapped on the microphone a little, before sighing. The crowd deafened, waiting to hear her speak.
"Hello," she said, "my name is Beatrice. Actually, my name is Amelia Burden. I just go by Beatrice. Most of you, especially the children, know me as Beatrice Beagle. In fact, that's my balloon, right there. Course children aren't stupid, they're often smarter than the adults around them, more perceptive, so you all know I'm not actually a dog. You know I'm a woman in a dog suit. But...the reason I'm telling you my name is because, for far too long, I have run away from who I am, and that's not a message I want to send to kids. If there's one lesson I want to impart to children, it's to be yourself, no matter what anyone thinks or tells you. I love you, Beatrice loves you, because you're you. And you'll be happier in the end if you don't hide who you are from the world, but instead allow the world to love you as you are."
Across town, Lexi, who had graduated and was waiting for her father, was annoyed. He'd promised he'd be here. He said he was getting out early enough to come see her graduate. How could he just lie to her face like that? She was, honestly, livid. Pacing back and forth, clutching her framed diploma and degree to her chest, she was so frustrated. They'd put in the work to be better, why wouldn't he...and then she saw it. A woman in a suit coming her way, with two cops. Her breath stopped in her chest. As they got closer, she had a sinking feeling something was wrong.
"Sometimes," Bea continued, "we don't understand that. We get rejected by people we so desperately want to love us, that we think that's a comment on us, not on them. But it isn't. The people who love us will come through, no matter what, unless life doesn't allow them to. The ones who love us...they're there, and even when they aren't, we feel them. I lost my mother a while back, and I miss her every single day, but I know she isn't gone, because I remember her. If you can remember someone, the love they felt for you, that never goes away. And they loved you for who you were, not who you pretended to be or thought you had to be to please someone else."
Lexi dropped to her knees slowly, the women kneeling with her, hand on her shoulder, apologizing. He wasn't coming. Not because he didn't want to, but because, as he left the prison and headed down the city block, he'd been pulled into a nearby alley and stabbed multiple times by men who had been hired by the people he'd fingered in court to gain early release. He wasn't here because he didn't want to be. He was here because he was dead. This was supposed to be a hugely happy day in her life, but all Lexi could feel was devestation.
"And if, for some reason, the people who should love you no matter what, like your parents, don't...then know that I do. You have, in me, a mother. You have, in Beatrice, a friend, and you are never alone. We will weather these storms together, and we will come out stronger, and healthier, as a result of it. They say the children are our future, but that future only is worthwhile if we raise you right. If we raise you to love not only yourselves but those around you. If we fail to do that, then we've failed not only the future, but also you, and I am so sorry for the parents who failed you, or are failing you. A good friend of mine, her parents failed her, and it cost her her life. She deserved a better life. You all deserve a better life. A life full of love, and learning, and if your folks won't do it, then I will. I will burn myself at both ends until I am nothing but ash to save you from the forces that try to break you."
Michelle smiled, crying, as Eliza and Leslie returned and Eliza kissed Michelle on the head, the two of them nuzzling on the balcony as they continued watching.
"If the most I can be is a mother to you, the I will be that mother," Bea said, "you are not alone. The world is big, and scary, but it can be managed, and I will help you manage it. I may live in a doghouse on TV, but that doghouse is a home to any child who needs the shelter, and you're always welcome to it. So even if you get nothing else out of the holidays this year, know this...you got me. I love you. And I always will. Thank you."
Bea stepped away, to thunderous applause, and walked back down the stairs. Michelle couldn't be more proud. Meanwhile, across town, as the show was winding down for the night, Keagan was ready to get home and finally get some rest. It'd been a long night, and she was pleased with how it had gone but she also was ready to relax, kick back, and take in the holiday season at a slow and comfortable pace. She clicked the switchboard off, stood up, pulled her coat on, and headed to the door. As she tugged the broadcast room door open, the phone rang. Keagan stopped and looked back at it. There was an answering machine. It would pick up. It kept ringng though. Keagan finally sighed, came back in and answered the phone, lifting it to her face.
"Hello?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
"Hello, thank you," a voice came through the receiver, "hello, yes, I am so glad I caught you. I heard this on the radio, I tried to get through but it was always so busy."
"Yeah, first night show, lots of callers, understandable. Feel free to call back next week though, okay? We're always-"
"I NEED to speak to Beatrice," the voice said, sounding urgent, causing Keagan concern.
"Uh, well, she isn't here, unfortunately, but I can take a message for you, if you'd like," Keagan said, gathering a pen and some scraps of paper, "what is this regarding?"
"It's regarding her daughter," the voice said, catching Keagan off guard, her eyebrows arching.
A moment passed. Keagan stood up straight and anxiously bit on the pen cap.
"Who is this?" Keagan asked.
Another pause.
"My name is Claire, and she's my mom."
The thing was, she didn't make any proclamation of fame or state any big dreams she hoped to one day achieve, she didn't say, in a hushed voice, the kind of sentence that whispers and origin story destined to become reality where she claimed, only loud enough for the dog to hear, that she would one day have a balloon in this very parade, because, well, until things went belly up in her life, Amelia didn't really have much interest in the performing arts. She liked writing plays, stories, sure. But it wasn't until college, until Beatrice passed away, that she felt this innate drive to create something, and really, it was for her own grief, but under the guise of helping children, not that she'd ever openly admit to that.
Now, as an adult, standing in the large hanger where the Beatrice Beagle balloon was being prepared for its debut in the parade that early evening, Bea couldn't help but feel something else...a sense of disconnect between herself and this character she'd long since crafted and held dear. Leslie was beside her, smoking a joint, as they watched the balloons preparation.. After a few minutes, Bea, who'd been chewing on her lip up to now, hands shoved deep in her coat pockets, sighed.
"I think the issue is that she's me," she said.
"...okay, I know I'm smoking weed, but even I'm not stoned enough yet to understand the existentialism of that statement. Care to elaborate?" Leslie asked, causing Bea to chuckle.
"Liam used to tell me that I was too protective of her, and that was why I had such a hard time letting her go, letting her be the publics, and not mine. But I don't think it's because of what she meant to me, I think it's because she WAS me. I took her on as a second identity. In a way, it felt like the public was claiming ownership of me, not the character."
"And what, do you think, is the solution to that?" Leslie asked.
"...I think I wanna go back to my name," Bea said, "I think I've run from my identity for so long, that I've forgotten who I used to be, and actually am. I'm not Beatrice Beagle. She's a character based on a dog I had when I was a child. I'm Amelia Burden. Maybe it's time to embrace that."
Leslie smiled warmly and clung to Bea's arm, hugging tightly.
"You do whatever you think is best, and I'm behind you one hundred percent," Leslie said.
It had been two weeks since Liam had died, and Michelle had found Bea in that destroyed apartment, and since then, she'd been making the concerted effort to be better, more stable. But it was hard. She missed Liam more than anyone could ever know or imagine. The phone he'd left her had filled her with so much doubt about her life choices, with regret, even though he'd obviously intended it as some sort of sweet send-off. Bea now was simply keeping everything internalized instead of expressing things to anyone, at least when it came to emotional stuff like that. She did, however, really feel the need to revisit her actual identity.
"And just remember," Leslie said, kissing Bea on the cheek, "no matter who you are, I'll love you all the same."
Bea blushed and kissed Leslie back on the forehead, the two of them cuddling as they looked up at the balloon. It had been a hard year, but it was now the holidays, and if Bea could just get through her Thanksgiving speech, she would be in the clear until the next season started.
***
"Yes, hello, I'm trying to reach the offices of Beatrice Beagle," the woman said, "it's very important that I speak with her. If you could just put me through, I would be so grateful, or if you have a personal number I could reach her at, that would be even better, because if I get lumped in with work calls and such, I don't know how long it'll take for her to get back to me. Please reach me at this number once you get this message, thank you."
She sighed and hung up the phone, then walked over to a large corkboard she had posted on her bedroom wall, removed a few index cards with numbers and info that had gone nowhere, and tossed them into the garbage. She then pulled the one with the number she'd just dialed down to the forefront, hoping this would be the one to get her what she wanted. She stood back and sighed, hands on her hips. She was so close.
So very, very close.
***
"We've opened up the phone lines for the first time broadcast of the radio program, Keagan is in the box right now preparing to take calls," Stephanie said, "are you ready?"
Bea shrugged as she sipped her cocoa, sitting in Liam's old office, her legs up on his desk as Stephanie paced in front of it.
"I know it's been hard, it's...it's weird not having him here," Stephanie said, "and if we can just make it through tonight, through this speech and parade, we'll all have time to properly grieve and mourn and work through it, alone and together. I miss him too, Bea. I really do. He was kind of a force to be reckoned with, especially in the business world, because he was cutthroat even if he didn't seem like. Always willing to go to bat for those he believed in, knowing they deserved better."
"Speech is ready, I'm ready, what more do you want from me?" Bea asked flatly, staring at Stephanie as she poured in more tiny marshmallows into her mug and stirred, adding, "there's only so much assurance of stability that I can promise you, really."
"Bea," Stephanie said, sitting on the desk now, "let me send you and Leslie somewhere after this. I'll pay for your vacation, okay? You guys deserve some time outside of this environment, outside the city in general. Go have some fun together somewhere, alright? It's...it's been a lot this year, between Casey and then Liam and...you just...I think you need time to recuperate."
Bea nodded slowly, acknowledging that Stephanie wasn't wrong, honestly. A break would be really nice, in fact. She checked her wristwatch and sighed.
"Where the hell is Michelle?" she muttered.
Little did she know that Michelle was, in fact, on company property. She just happened to be in The Hole. As she entered, she found Eliza standing underneath a ceiling covered in puppets and marionettes, looking up at them like one looks up at a star filled sky. Michelle approached slowly, so as not to startle her, and when she got close enough, Eliza finally realized she wasn't alone and she looked down at Michelle, who smiled, pulled her in and kissed her briefly before looking back up above with her.
"What are you doing in here?" Michelle asked.
"I'm thinking about all the puppets I've made," Eliza said, "I've spent more time with felt than with people. Does that make me weird?"
"Trust me, that isn't the thing that makes you weird," Michelle said, making Eliza blush as Michelle giggled and kissed her on the cheek, adding, "you're passionate, and that's admirable. I'm passionate too. That's why Bea brought us in. She gathers up people that have the same drive and ambition creatively that she has, so that can never be a negative thing, trust me."
Eliza rested her head on Michelle's shoulder as Michelle ran her long fingers up into Eliza's hair, playing with it.
"People say 'art is dead' because all they see is commodification," Eliza said, surprising Michelle, as she added, "they rarely see people using art as ways to express their pain, their anguish, their joy anymore, and instead it's all about making a franchise, creating a long-lasting IP, and so they say that art is dead. They're just not looking in the right places, is the thing. They only see those things because the mainstream media has so co-opted entertainment and shut out the little productions that it becomes hard to see the genuine stuff that gets made. The stuff with heart in it. Art isn't dead, and working on this show proves that. I put my heart into every single one of these puppets-"
"Creepy, like a satanic ritual," Michelle said, making Eliza laugh; she continued.
"-so I know firsthand that they mean something because I put meaning into them. Like that puppet Keagan and I made together. That was for a specific cause, it had a very real reason to exist, and it's only done good for people since it was introduced. The people who say art is dead are the people who didn't understand art in the first place."
Michelle couldn't be more proud of Eliza. She was starting to sound like Beatrice, and that was not a negative. Michelle pressed her face into Eliza's hair and breathed her in, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly, slowly swaying back and forth in silence for a few minutes as they both looked upward at the marionette chandelier overhead.
"Are you ready to see Bea's speech, the parade?" Michelle asked, and Eliza nodded. Eliza then pulled away and turned around, facing Michelle, looking her dead in the eyes, before taking Michelle's face between her hands and pressing her lips to her own.
"We can go in a few minutes," Eliza whispered, "I wanna stay here and kiss you first."
"That's good enough for me," Michelle replied, giggling more, happily kissing her back.
***
Keagan took a deep breath as she tugged her headphones fully over her ears, looking back towards Stephanie. She exhaled as Steph gave her a thumbs up and a nod, grinning, before Keagan lit up the switchboard and went live. She breathed for a moment, and then she spoke.
"Hello and welcome to the show, my name is Keagan Stills, and this is our very first episode, so please bear with us as we try to get things under way," she said, "this radio program is produced as a means to take calls, field questions, speak to the wonderful young audience we have that support us, as well as any creative person who might want to discuss the ins and outs of production. You may recognize my voice, that's because I play Serena on the show. In fact, I not only play Serena, I was integral to her creation, being asked firsthand to help bring her to life with the help, of course, of our amazing puppet master Eliza Tartt. With that in mind, I'm your host, and let's get things underway with our very first caller," Keagan said, before hearing Steph snap her fingers at her, causing her to look back; Steph was holding a sign that simply read 'SPEECH' and Keagan nodded, adding, "right, and I've just been reminded of course that Beatrice is giving a speech at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade tonight, so be sure to either tune into that or, if you're able, see her life in person. We're now opening the lines up for calls."
Steph smiled, nodding as she leaned back against the wall and watched. She knew Keagan would be perfect. Not enough people gave Keagan credit around her, she'd sort of fallen into the background rotation of crew, despite being a literal integral part of why this show existed to begin with, and Steph really felt like it was time for her to be recognized for her abilities. She wanted to uplift her best she could, because she saw a lot of herself in Keagan. Ambitious, driven, business savy. She knew what she was capable of, and she was more than willing to give her the chance to exercise those abilities to their fullest. Thing is...it hadn't been her idea.
"We have multiple sound stages, sound booths, and this space is basically being wasted," Liam had said to her just weeks prior, "we could produce something here. Extra content means extra eyes. Extra attention on the product. We produce a radio show, a storytelling show. Once a week a different story, generally featuring a different character, will be told through this show, and then every fifth episode we can have maybe interviews, behind the scenes stuff, and at the end of every episode we have calls from kids. We need to connect directly with the audience without a screen or a force field of some kind in front of us."
"I love the way your brain works, man," Stephanie said, shaking her head in awe, "and, you're right, we have the resources. I can gather up some potential applicants, we can run through them together, see who fits best, and-"
"No," Liam said, coughing as he waved his hand at her, "no, it's Keagan. I want Keagan."
This, Steph admitted, surprised her. Liam continued.
"Let me explain," he said, his voice sounding froggish, as he added, "Michelle and Bea are close. It's understandable. They're very alike, they're both very passionate about the show, about what they enjoy and do, and their hearts are set in the same place. Their connection makes sense. But this whole thing...this whole endeavor, wouldn't even exist if it weren't for Keagan, and it's goddamned high time she got recognition for it. She's the one who wrote about Marvin's death, not Michelle. She's the one who tracked me down, not Michelle. Together, the two formed and unstoppable force dedicated to bringing us back, but it all started at Keagan. It has to be her. She can't just be relegated to a voice for a puppet and menial task work. She deserves more."
Stephanie felt like crying. This man...this man had gone out of his way time and time again to defend Beatrice, to help Michelle, to bring so many womens dreams to fruition. All he cared about, it seemed, was helping prop women up in a position of power. Steph wiped at her eyes and nodded.
"Yeah, okay sure, yes, it can be Keagan," Steph said, "let me do some budgeting, stuff like that, and I will approach her."
Steph, now back from her memory, looked at the spot beside her where, just weeks earlier, Liam had stood, and they'd had this conversation. She then exited, quietly, swiftly, out into the hall as Keagan broadcasted, and cried into her hands. She hadn't really mourned Liam's death just yet, and now, seeing this dream of his come true, she couldn't help but finally lose it. The man had been a force of nature, of business savy, and now he was gone. But, she thought, though he may be gone, his ideas would continue. His influence would be felt. She wouldn't tell anyone this, but on the night Liam died, when she'd heard, she snuck into The Hole and she took one of his characters puppets to take home with her, that adorable little Cactus he'd voiced for years. Stephanie's home was full of plants.
What did one more hurt.
***
Beatrice, Michelle, Eliza and Leslie were standing on a balcony overlooking the parade. Beatrice hated crowds, and so the idea of speaking to one right now made her overly anxious. She lit another cigarette and exhaled smoke into the air as Leslie ran her fingertips down her spine, trying to calm her down. Michelle downed her drink, then looked at Bea.
"You gonna be okay, chief?" she asked.
"I'll manage, I'm nothing if not experienced at this point," Bea said, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I've got the jitters, but it'll be okay."
"I am going to go in search of snacks," Leslie said, "Eliza, care to join me?"
"I could snack," Eliza said, the two of them heading away from the balcony and exiting the room into the hallway of the hotel, leaving Bea and Michelle alone together. Michelle rested her head on Beatrice's shoulder and Bea smiled, resting her head against Michelle's.
"I wish Liam was here," Michelle whispered.
"I know, sweetheart, I do too," Bea said softly, "I miss him more than anything. He was my best friend. He knew me in ways nobody else ever has, and probably never will. Michelle, there's something I want to give you. I know the holidays aren't for another month, but I'll be on vacation, so I want to give this to you now."
Bea walked back into the room, retrieved something, then came back out onto the balcony. She opened a small jewelry box and pulled out a little bracelet with gemstones on it. Michelle held out her wrist and Bea slipped it on carefully.
"This," Bea said, "was something from my mother. She had as long as I could remember, and when I started succeeding in the arts, she gave it to me. I'm giving it now to you. Losing Liam has made me really think about the people in my life who mean the world to me, who I would do anything for, and there's nobody closer to the top of that list than you are."
Michelle wanted to cry as she looked up from her wrist to Bea, their eyes meeting. Bea reached out and carefully pushed some of her hair back behind her ear, smiling warmly.
"I fucked up," Bea continued, "I wasn't there for Casey the way I had been there for you, or Eliza, or other young women when they needed someone. I failed her. I will never forgive myself for that. But...I can do better for the ones I still have. None of you really have moms, and if you do, like you do, they aren't worth having. The age I am now, I'm not going to have kids, that opportunity has passed me by, but that doesn't mean I don't see you as my daughter. For god sakes, Michelle, you have part of my organs inside of you, hah, so I think it's clear we are connected at this point. I wanted to give you this because my mom gave it to me, and now I am a mother to you, even if not by blood."
They stared at one another again, before Bea grabbed Michelle by the shoulders and very gently pulled her in for a hug, the both of them crying happily.
"I love you, Michelle, happy holidays," Bea whispered.
"I love you too," Michelle replied, squeezing tighter and tighter. After the hug, Bea pulled away and exhaled, then wiped her face down and smiled.
"Well," Bea said, "Guess I got a speech to make."
Michelle watched Bea leave the room, and watched her re-emergence outside below the balcony. She stepped up onto the makeshift stage they'd created, as the parade continued around them, and the crowd clapped at seeing her. Michelle smiled so big, she couldn't have asked for a better outcome in life than to be here with not only her hero, but now her surrogate mother. Bea cleared her throat and tapped on the microphone a little, before sighing. The crowd deafened, waiting to hear her speak.
"Hello," she said, "my name is Beatrice. Actually, my name is Amelia Burden. I just go by Beatrice. Most of you, especially the children, know me as Beatrice Beagle. In fact, that's my balloon, right there. Course children aren't stupid, they're often smarter than the adults around them, more perceptive, so you all know I'm not actually a dog. You know I'm a woman in a dog suit. But...the reason I'm telling you my name is because, for far too long, I have run away from who I am, and that's not a message I want to send to kids. If there's one lesson I want to impart to children, it's to be yourself, no matter what anyone thinks or tells you. I love you, Beatrice loves you, because you're you. And you'll be happier in the end if you don't hide who you are from the world, but instead allow the world to love you as you are."
Across town, Lexi, who had graduated and was waiting for her father, was annoyed. He'd promised he'd be here. He said he was getting out early enough to come see her graduate. How could he just lie to her face like that? She was, honestly, livid. Pacing back and forth, clutching her framed diploma and degree to her chest, she was so frustrated. They'd put in the work to be better, why wouldn't he...and then she saw it. A woman in a suit coming her way, with two cops. Her breath stopped in her chest. As they got closer, she had a sinking feeling something was wrong.
"Sometimes," Bea continued, "we don't understand that. We get rejected by people we so desperately want to love us, that we think that's a comment on us, not on them. But it isn't. The people who love us will come through, no matter what, unless life doesn't allow them to. The ones who love us...they're there, and even when they aren't, we feel them. I lost my mother a while back, and I miss her every single day, but I know she isn't gone, because I remember her. If you can remember someone, the love they felt for you, that never goes away. And they loved you for who you were, not who you pretended to be or thought you had to be to please someone else."
Lexi dropped to her knees slowly, the women kneeling with her, hand on her shoulder, apologizing. He wasn't coming. Not because he didn't want to, but because, as he left the prison and headed down the city block, he'd been pulled into a nearby alley and stabbed multiple times by men who had been hired by the people he'd fingered in court to gain early release. He wasn't here because he didn't want to be. He was here because he was dead. This was supposed to be a hugely happy day in her life, but all Lexi could feel was devestation.
"And if, for some reason, the people who should love you no matter what, like your parents, don't...then know that I do. You have, in me, a mother. You have, in Beatrice, a friend, and you are never alone. We will weather these storms together, and we will come out stronger, and healthier, as a result of it. They say the children are our future, but that future only is worthwhile if we raise you right. If we raise you to love not only yourselves but those around you. If we fail to do that, then we've failed not only the future, but also you, and I am so sorry for the parents who failed you, or are failing you. A good friend of mine, her parents failed her, and it cost her her life. She deserved a better life. You all deserve a better life. A life full of love, and learning, and if your folks won't do it, then I will. I will burn myself at both ends until I am nothing but ash to save you from the forces that try to break you."
Michelle smiled, crying, as Eliza and Leslie returned and Eliza kissed Michelle on the head, the two of them nuzzling on the balcony as they continued watching.
"If the most I can be is a mother to you, the I will be that mother," Bea said, "you are not alone. The world is big, and scary, but it can be managed, and I will help you manage it. I may live in a doghouse on TV, but that doghouse is a home to any child who needs the shelter, and you're always welcome to it. So even if you get nothing else out of the holidays this year, know this...you got me. I love you. And I always will. Thank you."
Bea stepped away, to thunderous applause, and walked back down the stairs. Michelle couldn't be more proud. Meanwhile, across town, as the show was winding down for the night, Keagan was ready to get home and finally get some rest. It'd been a long night, and she was pleased with how it had gone but she also was ready to relax, kick back, and take in the holiday season at a slow and comfortable pace. She clicked the switchboard off, stood up, pulled her coat on, and headed to the door. As she tugged the broadcast room door open, the phone rang. Keagan stopped and looked back at it. There was an answering machine. It would pick up. It kept ringng though. Keagan finally sighed, came back in and answered the phone, lifting it to her face.
"Hello?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
"Hello, thank you," a voice came through the receiver, "hello, yes, I am so glad I caught you. I heard this on the radio, I tried to get through but it was always so busy."
"Yeah, first night show, lots of callers, understandable. Feel free to call back next week though, okay? We're always-"
"I NEED to speak to Beatrice," the voice said, sounding urgent, causing Keagan concern.
"Uh, well, she isn't here, unfortunately, but I can take a message for you, if you'd like," Keagan said, gathering a pen and some scraps of paper, "what is this regarding?"
"It's regarding her daughter," the voice said, catching Keagan off guard, her eyebrows arching.
A moment passed. Keagan stood up straight and anxiously bit on the pen cap.
"Who is this?" Keagan asked.
Another pause.
"My name is Claire, and she's my mom."