Eliza was seated in her bedroom, sewing sewing sewing. Nonstop sewing. The machine never ending, the puppet taking form and shape. Emotions surged through Eliza in ways she'd never felt, and never wanted to feel again. So she sewed. She sewed each stitch, each seam, each tassle and button and bit of clothe. And when it was finally done, she stood up, and she laid down in bed with what she'd created, this soft, almost identical puppet, and she clung it to her chest as she shut her eyes, and she whispered

"I missed you."

Because that was what Eliza did. She recreated the loss in a physical form. What had been taken from her she'd clawed back to reality, and though it made her father uncomfortable, and though she knew it wasn't exactly the right thing to do, the best way to handle stuff or go about processing things...it made her happy in the interim, and that was what truly mattered. It may have been a facsimile, but it was her mother nonetheless. Long after she'd been buried, Eliza had brought her back, and she could tell her she was sorry. She was sorry the last thing they'd ever done together was argue. She was sorry she had died.

But now, sitting here in The Hole with the Liam puppet, she didn't have anything to say to it. She didn't have any real reason for him to be here. They'd been friends, associates really, but they had no unfinished business. Still, it was nice to have his familiar face. She checked her watch. Almost 3pm. She needed to go. She gathered her backpack and she grabbed Liam off the table and she put her arm in him before lifting him to her face, making him speak.

"Where exactly are we headed?" she made him ask.

"Somewhere safe," she replied, "Somewhere...that can't take you away again."

And then she headed out.

***

"Do you not have anything going on today?" Keagan asked as she grabbed her car keys from the table, "and if not, you wanna come with me to work?"

Lexi shook her head, nary a word passing her lips. Keagan sighed and sat on the arm of the couch, reaching out and touching Lexi's bare leg. She was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of gym shorts. This once well put together, ambitious, fashion forward girl she'd fallen for had devolved into somebody who didn't care about anything, much less her appearance. It hurt Keagan to watch her dwindle away like this.

"I'd like it if you came," Keagan said, "you can sit with me in the studio all day, just hang out."

"I won't be any fun," Lexi said flatly, her voice dry as desert air.

"Alright, well...I won't be home late, and we can order in okay? Whatever you want," Keagan said. Lexi shrugged, and Keagan left the house. Lexi rolled onto her side and stared at the fabric of the couch back, just breathing, existing, being. Her thoughts, once more, turned to her father. She didn't want to think about him, but he dominated her consciousness. Or, moreso, his absence did, because it was something that felt so impossible. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of....she took a nap.

When Lexi woke a few hours later, now on her back and staring upright at the overhead ceiling fan, she realized she was thirsty. Her mouth was dry. She smacked her tongue against her lips and then pulled herself up by the head of the couch, groaning as she did. To expend any kind of energy seemed to exhaust her these days, which she realized was likely a sign of severe clinical depression, but she chose to ignore it. Lemon lime soda was far more preferable right now than antidepressant treatments. Lexi walked to the kitchen and grabbed a cold can from the fridge, popped the top and guzzled it in almost one go before her doorbell started to ring. She glanced, confusingly, towards the front room, wondering who could possibly be bothering her right now. She walked, nearly empty can still in hand, to the front door and tugged it open, only to find a young woman standing there, looking disheveled, staring straight down at the porch. She appeared to be in her mid teens, wearing baggy clothes, long jet black shimmering hair covering her face.

"Uh..." Lexi started, "can I...help you, at all, or?"

"Hi," the young girl said, "my name is Amanda Briar Peterson, I'm 15 years old and I live on Northeast 81st Street, and I go to Richmond High, where I am a freshman."

Lexi continued staring, now all the more confused by this bizarre turn of events. She shook her head, finished her can and placed the empty aluminum container on the nearby table before turning her attention back to the girl.

"Okay, well, I appreciate the life story, but what can I do for-"

"I think my dad killed your dad," the girl suddenly blurted out. She still wasn't looking up, but Lexi couldn't take her eyes off the girl now. After a few moments, letting the gravity of what she'd just been told settle in, Lexi stepped aside and offered the girl entrance into the house. Amanda nodded without looking up, simply giving visual acknowledgement to Lexi's welcome, and walked past her as Lexi shut the front door.

***

Keagan opened the door to the studio and then shut it behind her, sighing as she dumped her bag onto the floor by her chair before heading to the small coffee cart Stephanie had set up for them. She made herself a coffee, then settled into the chair in front of the board to get to work preparing for radio show that evening. She raised the mug to her lips and took a long sip, closing her eyes and smiling as she did. Suddenly the door opened and Justine entered. Keagan turned in her chair and stared at her, confused as to what she was even doing here.

"How do you have access?" Keagan blurted out, "wait, that...that sounded accusatory, like I don't want to see you, and that's not the case, I'm more just curious cause-"

"Bea gave me a key card a bit ago because we're working on a book together, but that's beside the point," Justine said, approaching, dragging behind her a nearby metal chair and sitting down on it in front of Keagan, asking, "I'm actually here to talk to you specifically."

"Well that's a first," Keagan said, "what can I do for you?"

"You can help me piss of Beatrice," Justine said, "unless you like what she did to Michelle."

Keagan slowly nodded, listening. She hadn't been vocal about it, especially not outwardly so, but internally she had been fuming. After all both she and Michelle had done for Bea, she had had the gall to fire Michelle? None of this would even exist without their combined efforts, and she thought that line of action was okay? Yeah. Needless to say it didn't sit right with her. But what could she do? Endanger her own career? She cared for Michelle deeply, they were a team, but they needed the job.

"And how do you propose I do that?" Keagan asked.

"You have access to the communications stuff," Justine said, "I have a keycard so we can get on the soundstage, but we need you to be the final piece of this puzzle. All you need to do...is feed a different script into the teleprompter during the next production shoot. Think you can do that?"

Keagan crossed her legs, feeling anxious but also happy to be asked to be part of a push back. She'd always believed strongly and firmly in the concept of protesting. She ran a hand up into her bushy hair and nodded slowly, thinking about it, taking in Justine's request.

"If I can help get Michelle reinstated, show Beatrice how absolutely out of line she was, especially considering what we brought to her...yeah, I'd say that's worth doing. Why'd you come to me though?" Keagan asked.

"Well, I admit that first went to The Hole to see Eliza cause she's working with me on the book too, but she wasn't there. Left a note saying she'd be getting a slice. Not sure what the hell that meant though. Guess she went for pizza for lunch."

Keagan bit her lip.

"I need to make a phone call," she said.

Keagan took her cell and stood up, then stepped out into the hallway outside the studio, shutting the door behind her. The phone rang twice before Michelle picked up, and when Keagan told her what Justine had just told her, about Eliza not being at The Hole, or at work at all, Michelle was out the door, car keys in hand, in seconds. She'd known Eliza had been struggling, but to straight up skip out on work, that simply wasn't like her. After the call ended, Keagan stepped back inside the studio to find Justine admiring the switchboard.

"So," Keagan asked, "how do we rebel?"

***

"He was angry," Amanda said.

Amanda and Lexi were seated in the kitchen at the table, the lighting low. Lexi had gotten them each a piece of cake that she'd baked the other day, during one of her manic fits, and then made some cocoa to boot. Amanda, however, didn't really seem all that interested in the baked goods or the comfort drink.

"He kept talking about how he'd lost money and how we were going to struggle now and that the business had never seemed to be in trouble and he couldn't understand how greedy someone could be, and he blamed it all on your dad," Amanda continued, her run on sentences almost exhausting Lexi, seeing as she never once seemed to stop to take a breath.

"Well, for what it's worth, it wasn't my fathers fault," Lexi said, "he was framed."

"I know that's why it sucks so much that my dad did it, or helped do it, cause your dad wasn't even the reason, wasn't even responsible. My dad turned himself in and now we don't have him anyway and I wanted to apologize because he can't and I don't know if he would and you didn't deserve to lose your dad and I'm sorry."

Lexi bit her lip, thinking about it all. She'd had so much pain inside her since her father had been killed that she'd never really once considered what might have happened to the families of the men who'd taken his life. Now, here was that very proof. This weird, terrified teenage girl, who had sought her out as some sort of emotional payment for her soul, and the forgiveness of her fathers actions. Lexi sighed and scratched her forehead.

"You know, you don't have to apologize, you didn't do anything," Lexi said.

"But he was my dad and-"

"Yeah, and? You're not responsible for his actions," Lexi said, "you're just a kid, Amanda. I'm sorry you were put into this position."

And as the words left her lips, she realized how much she herself had needed to hear them. Lexi had, after all, been a kid technically when her father had been taken in for his supposed embezzlement charges. She had been in college. But nobody, not a single person, had ever stopped to tell her that she too hadn't been responsible for any of it nor should she have had to pick up the slack thereof as a result of the outcome. Nor had she been told she should never have been put in that position herself. It was at that moment that she felt lighter, she felt like she shouldn't be so hard on herself. What had happened had happened. It had been her fathers life, not hers, and he wouldn't want her to drag herself down as a result of what had occurred to him. She couldn't let Amanda go down the same path she was going down. She finally understood Beatrice in that split second, and why she felt so strongly about protecting, and guiding, kids. Lexi grinned, an idea popping into her head.

"Do you like puppets?" she asked.

***

She knew she'd find her here, and find her here she did.

Eliza was sitting in a booth in the dark, the Liam puppet on the table in front of her. The only lights on in the place were the ones illuminating the arcade games that littered the space, and a half empty pizza box was on the table as well. When Michelle first approached, she did so with the kind of caution one takes when going up to a wild, feral animal. Michelle then softly scooted herself into the opposite side of the booth from Eliza without saying a word. Eliza never even looked up. Michelle took a piece of pizza and started eating, occasionally glancing around as she chewed.

"I wonder who owns these places," she said, "it's amazing they're still open. Wonder how many there are."

"9."

"...you know?" Michelle asked, and Eliza nodded, causing Michelle to smile as she added, "well, guess I shouldn't be surprised, girl as beautiful and smart as you would know everything there is to know."

Her eyes moved from Eliza to the puppet.

"Looks just like him," she said softly.

"I can't let go of anyone," Eliza said.

"...who says you have to?"

"Can't be healthy to cling, right?" Eliza asked, and Michelle took a long breath through her nose.

"Eliza, look at how I clung to Bea, to the show, after all those years. I'm not one to dissuade someone from clinging to things that matter to us. You miss him. We all fucking miss him so much. Do what is necessary for you to get better. You know, when I was in the hospital, when I was a little girl and very sick, I saw this episode of Beatrice and in it she was talking to this Sunflower. I guess, I don't know, Liam wasn't available that day or something so they needed a stand in plant. Probably grabbed some woman from production. Anyway, Beatrice wasn't feeling good on the show, she was sick, and the Sunflower, of course, being the bright and cheerful entity that it was, told Bea that she just needed to take care of herself, be patient and she would get better. Told her that it was worth it to be strong and get healthy. That always stuck with me, cause I was sick, so if this Sunflower was telling Bea she too, who was sick then, could get better, and that it was worthwhile to do so...I don't know, felt kind of like it was talking directly at me. I mean, here I was, this terrified, sick little girl, and my own mother just complained endlessly about the prediciment, and not because she cared but because of what it cost her both in emotional weight as well as in her career, meanwhile my father was getting ready to take off, and it just...it felt nice. It felt nice having someone tell me it was okay to be sick, but that it would also get better."

Michelle finished her pizza slice as she shrugged and put the crust back in the box before wiping her mouth on her shirt sleeve and looked back at Eliza, who was finally making direct eye contact with her. Michelle giggled nervously.

"What?" she asked, "was that weird? I guess I do still relate too much of my life to-"

"That was me," Eliza said.

A stillness surrounded the table. Michelle felt like her brain had just been emptied.

"...what?" she whispered.

"The Sunflower, that was me," Eliza said, "they pulled me on stage. I was the Sunflower."

The women sat across from eachother, simply staring into one anothers eyes. Michelle couldn't believe what she'd been hearing. All her life...she'd gotten better because Beatrice - the dog anyway - had made her feel safe and seen, and this Sunflower had told her it was okay to be the way she was, and now...now that very Sunflower was the woman sitting across from her, the woman she'd fallen in love with, lived with? No. Had to be a mistake of some kind.

"I made that puppet, well, it was one of the first I'd made, and you're right, Liam wasn't available that day, so they needed me," Eliza said, "so they dragged me on stage and ensured I couldn't be seen and...and I...that was me. I'm the one who said that."

"It's you," Michelle whispered.

After a few moments of silence, Michelle got up from her side of the booth slowly and slid into the opposite site beside Eliza, who looked back down at the Liam puppet on the table.

"He would want me to heed my own advice, wouldn't he?" she asked, and Michelle put a hand on hers in her lap, gently rubbing it, not saying a word and instead allowing Eliza to suss out the situation for herself; she sniffled, continuing with, "I'm scared of losing you too. First Casey, then him, back to back...what if you're next. It's scary to love because it means loss is what follows eventually. I can't lose you."

"You're not gonna lose me," Michelle said softly, smiling sweetly, "I'm here, I'm healthy, healthier than I've ever been, and-"

"I can't lose you because you made me better. I made you better and you make me better and we saved eachother, and the accident made me...different, and my brain doesn't work the way it should anymore, and...and I feel so out of place around everyone, even Bea, but...not with you," Eliza continued, interrupting, catching Michelle off guard with her sincerity and the hurt in her voice; they locked eyes now, as Eliza added, "when I'm with you, I'm not out of place, I'm just...in the right place. You make it okay to be me. I don't wanna lose that. I don't wanna go back."

Michelle put her free hand gently behind Eliza's neck and leaned in, kissing her, Eliza happily kissing her back.

"Don't worry baby," Michelle whispered, resting their foreheads together, "you'll never have to."

Michelle couldn't help but remember what Delores had said to her the other day. How much of her identity was entangled with Beatrice, the show, and how she basically didn't know who she was outside of that. But she did know one thing...and that was that whoever she wound up discovering who she was, whatever it was she wound up realizing she wanted to do, Eliza would be there with her through it all. Maybe in an ironic twist, she was realizing, being fired was the greatest gift Bea could've given her after all.