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Michelle wasn't a writer, nor was Eliza. In fact, the only person in this room who was a writer, in all technicality, was Beatrice. Yet, she'd pulled Michelle and Eliza into the writers room with her, then locked the door. She'd ordered pizza, gotten drinks, and told them they wouldn't be leaving until they helped her write this episode. Sitting at the large table while Beatrice paced, eating a slice of pizza, Michelle couldn't help but glance over at Eliza, who looked as uncomfortable as she ever had seen her look.

"I wanna present this in as straight forward a manner as possible," Bea finally said, finishing her slice, crust and all, and wiping her hands on a napkin sitting on the table; she continued, "That's the whole idea of childrens entertainment, simplistic but not insulting. Talking to them at their level, not under their level, insinuating they can't understand complex concepts simply because they're younger. Children are far more intuitive than we give them credit for being."

"That's all very true," Michelle said, "but I don't...I don't know what to really say that hasn't already been said by a million other childrens shows."

"That's the challenge, though," Bea said, "is to come up with saying something that's been said but in a new way. A way that hasn't been approached yet. Because, let's face it, everyone has told kids that their loved ones are somewhere in the sky, watching over them. That they still exist in some way or another. But you don't wanna be the show that outright tells them that's bullshit. You don't want to diminish a childs hope. But to sugarcoat it with such fairytale bullshit...that's almost as bad."

Eliza groaned, chewing on her nails. This was something she did when she was particularly anxious, a habit Michelle had become all but far too familiar with.

"To be perfectly honest," Michelle said, "I don't know what it is I'm doing in here other than providing emotional support. I just hate my mom, she's not dead. Dead to me, maybe, but not actually dead."

"That's what gives us perspective," Bea said, pacing around the table, "we can't just be coming from the place of having dead mothers. We need variation."

"Oh, well, let me just go call her and ask when she plans on dropping dead," Michelle said, rather angrily. Bea stopped walking and looked at Michelle, but not angrily, more like with sorrow on her face. Michelle felt bad. She whispered 'sorry' before looking down at her feet. Beatrice just exhaled and shook her head before looking at Eliza.

"What did you think, when your mom died?" Bea asked.

"That it was my fault," Eliza said, "but that guilt isn't really something that I, ya know, wanna pass onto others. That's not healthy."

"I meant more like...do you believe in Heaven or anything?" Bea asked, picking up another slice.

"I guess I..." Eliza started, trailing off, thinking, before continuing, "I guess I don't really believe in Heaven, exactly, but...like...energy. You know how even after someone leaves a room, goes back home or whatever, you can still kinda sense them? Their presence was so strong that it left a mark? That's kinda what I believe in. The energy of the person is still here."

"That's really beautiful," Bea said, "but I'm not sure it's comforting, exactly. Also kids don't really get metaphysical stuff like that."

"You just said not to talk down to them," Michelle interrupted.

"I know, I know, but I do have to be aware of their level of perception," Bea remarked, "Something like what Eliza said is beautiful, don't get me wrong - and let's face it, likely the most scientifically accurate as well - but it's just not something that children the age of our viewership would really be able to grasp. We need something a bit easier for them to understand."

Michelle groaned, threw her head back and stood up. She excused herself, saying she was going to the bathroom, when in reality, as soon as she got outside the room, she headed straight for the smoking porch out back. Not because she smoked, she didn't, but because she knew it was the last place anyone would think to look for her. Once outside, she sighed and shut her eyes, leaning against the wall.

"Rough day?" Casey asked, surprising her.

"God, don't do that," Michelle replied, hand to her chest, catching her breath. Casey laughed and stubbed out the end of her cigarette.

"You alright?" Casey asked, sitting down on a table nearby.

"I...don't know," Michelle said, "...you hate your mom, right?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Do you wish she were dead?"

"....yeah, I do," Casey said, "I know that's harsh, but when someone who's supposed to love and protect you does the exact opposite - puts you in harms way, especially for monetary gain - then they're no longer viable for remorse. So yeah I wish she were dead. It would make my life, and possible recovery, all the easier. Why?"

Michelle walked to the table and seated herself as well, looking at her nails.

"Let's pretend we both had good relationships with our moms," Michelle said, "what would feel if she died? What do you believe in? What happens, where she goes, whatever. All that nonsense."

Casey had never really considered a situation wherein she and her mother liked one another, nor had she really considered her personal religious beliefs, particularly because she didn't really have any. Her family had never gone to church, and she'd never felt one ounce of pull towards a religion of any kind. In all honesty, she'd just kinda ignored the concept altogether. But now, being asked to confront both, in one theoretical happening, it made her wonder what she would feel or think.

"I guess," Casey said, "if my mom and I had a good relationship, and she died, I would probably just...accept the fact that she loved me while she was here, and the fact that she isn't here now can never take that away. Love is an idea, right? It's a concept. A person might go away, but their ideas never do. They're spread to others. Things like racism and homophobia are taught. Things like love are taught. If she loved me while she was here, that's what I would focus on. She would, in essence, become that love, whether she was here physically or not anymore."

Michelle nodded slowly, feeling her eyes tear up. That was...surprisingly beautiful, and certainly not the kind of thing she'd expected from someone like Casey, who didn't exactly strike her as the deep, emotional kind.

"I like that," Michelle said, nodding slowly, "I do. That's...very simple, very easy to understand, very pretty. I like that a lot."

Michelle stood up and began to head back inside, before turning and looking back at Casey. She wanted to invite her in, get her input heard, but she knew that wasn't really her decision. This was Beatrice's moment. Working through her grief, her loss, and she wanted only Michelle and Eliza there with her. She sighed, continued back inside and headed back to the office. When she re-entered the room, she found Beatrice laying on her back on the table by the pizza box, with Eliza sitting in her chair, her knees pulled to her chest.

"Did I miss something?" Michelle asked.

"What's the point," Bea said, "why even try to make sense of it, when it doesn't make sense to begin with. The big questions about things like death...eventually you run out of answers. A child keeps asking 'why' and you stop having things to respond with, because we don't know why. We don't know anything or everything. So why even bother trying to make sense of it, explain it, when it's so clearly unexplainable?"

"The pain isn't though, and that's what should be focused on," Michelle said, standing behind Eliza, massaging her shoulders, relaxing her, feeling her anxiety melt away with each touch, "that's what children need help with. They understand loss. That makes sense. What was here isn't here now. Very simple. What isn't simple is trying to figure out how to feel about it. Some kids might feel too much and be punished for it, others might not feel a thing and be punished for it. But there's no wrong way to grieve, and no right way either. They need to be told that however they feel is normal, because it's what they're feeling."

Beatrice sat up and looked at Michelle, furrowing her brow.

"...holy shit you're right," Bea said, "...you're absolutely right. The concept of loss isn't new to them. That's inherent. That's what object permanance is all about. It's something they learn from the moment they're born. They act badly and a favorite toy gets taken away. They understand loss. They don't understand that there are multiple appropriate ways to respond to it."

Bea climbed down from the table and let her hair down, looking at Eliza.

"You felt guilty, right? Even though you knew it wasn't your fault," Bea said, "and even if it isn't your fault, you have every right to feel guilty because it's how you felt. You can't change the things you feel. The ways you react to things. How do you feel now, though, Eliza? With a little bit of time and distance between the incident and this moment?"

Eliza looked away from Bea and up at Michelle, who just smiled and patted her on the head.

"I...I guess," Eliza said, "I guess now I just feel glad she was my mom to begin with. Even if we were different, even if we had arguments and disagreements and...and even if we didn't get along all the time, I know she wanted me to be my best, and to be okay, and to be happy. I'm glad she was here, and that she was mine."

Beatrice grinned and looked at Michelle.

"Love," Michelle said, echoing Casey's sentiment, "is the one thing loss can't take away from us. The person might be gone, but the way they felt about us never is, and that's what we can hold fast to in the toughest moments. That's the lesson to be taught here. That's the sentiment you need to push."

Beatrice nodded, then hugged Eliza, and then hugged Michelle. She then exited the room, without saying a word. Michelle sat back down in the chair across from Eliza, and scooted towards her. She reached out, and Eliza gave her her hands. Michelle took them gingerly, and kissed them, making Eliza blush.

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked, "This was...kind of intense, I'm not gonna lie."

"...it's okay to feel nothing?" Eliza asked, and Michelle nodded.

"Of course it is! Why?"

"Because that's how I feel a lot of the time," Eliza said, "I mean, not just about my mom, but about everything. The only time I ever feel anything else is when I'm with you. You make me feel happy. Or, whatever happiness feels like, I guess. When I was growing up, I had this special teacher who taught me emotions on a chart, like, what peoples faces look like when they feel certain ways. I still look to it from time to time to make sense of the people around me. But with you...I always know how you're feeling, and that makes me feel good. To understand another person enough to not need the chart, makes me feel special."

"You are special, sweetheart," Michelle whispered, kissing Eliza's hands again, making her blush.

"I guess...and I hope you don't take this weird," Eliza said, "in some kind of way, this relationship is almost maternal. Does that make sense? I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."

"I'm happy to be useful in whatever capacity you need in that moment," Michelle replied, "if that's sometimes romantic and sometimes maternal, that's perfectly fine. I love you. I just wanna keep you happy and comfortable."

Eliza slid off her own chair and climbed into Michelle's, cozying up on her lap best she could given the space provided, making Michelle laugh. Neither one had ever had a relationship before this, and yet they both knew they didn't want a relationship after. All they wanted was each other.

Beatrice would go to her office for the day, and she would write the script. She would take everything that Michelle and Eliza, and unknowingly Casey, had offered and she would turn it into a heartfelt confession about emotions and love that any child could easily comprehend and learn from. And when she was done with it, she would drop it off with Liam for him to check over, and then she would go home. When she arrived, she would find Leslie already making dinner. Beatrice would say hello to her, give her a hug and then adjourn to her home office. Once inside, she would lock the door, and she would sit in the center of the room on the floor.

The entire day, ever since her mother had passed only 48 hours prior actually, all she'd managed to think about was how to present this through her work. That was how she processed things. She did it through the puppetry that was Beatrice Beagle. But now...now she was home again. Now she didn't have to work. Now Beatrice, the facade, could melt away and she could be Amelia once more. And it was in that moment that she finally let herself fall apart. She fell onto her side on the floor, hugged herself and sobbed. Even though she wrote this script, she didn't believe any of it. How could she? She'd never been one to cope with loss well. First her dog, then Claire, then her mother. She didn't know how to manage. The fact that she somehow hadn't lost Michelle during her recent health scare was a shocker, and she wa grateful for not having to work through that as well.

A few hours later, when she would join Leslie in the living room as she watched game shows at half attention, Bea would nuzzle up against her on the couch without saying a word. Leslie would wrap her arms around her and pull her close, stroking her hair.

"How was your day?" Leslie asked as she raised her drink to her lips with her free hand and sipped.

"Fine," Bea would reply, before burying her face against Leslie's sweater and speak, muffled, "my mom is dead."

"I know," Leslie replied quietly, still petting her head, "I know. That's the one bad thing about moms. They die."

Beatrice never allowed herself to grieve her dog. She'd never allowed herself to grieve Claire. Instead she'd always soldiered onwards. But this time, after she'd done her usual coping process of getting her thoughts out via her work, she finally allowed herself to grieve for her mother, because she knew it wasn't healthy to not do so. Seemed like just a week ago she was a little girl, going to the library with her mom, learning and playing and discovering. And now her mom was dead. And no amount of childrens show saccharine could take away the ugliness of the reality of the world. The world didn't care that these people were our mothers. They died anyway. And one day Bea would die too. Perhaps that's what she was really mourning. Her own mortality. With her mother gone, it pushed her closer to the top of the list, and that scared her. She still had so much to do.

But she'd do it tomorrow.

Tonight...

...tonight she grieved her mother.
Published on

Here's the thing about Jane Phillips...she never really intended to be a mom.


That wasn't to say that, when the time came she didn't fully embrace and appreciate it, she did the absolute best she could, but it had never exactly been a goal for her. Jane had never been exactly...steady....mentally enough to have a child, but once Lilian arrived, she didn't try and weasel out of the responsibility. If anything, she did the opposite. She enrolled Lilian - with the financial help of her own parents - into the best preschool they had around, and then to a private elementary school. She made sure Lilian knew how to read, teaching her herself, getting books from the library out together and reading them in bed at night. She never scolded, she never threatened, she never talked down to. Sure, sometimes they had arguments, but she never said anything hateful or hurtful or damaging. Standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of juice and waiting for her pancakes to bubble, she saw the car pull up out front and quickly abandoned all other things to attend to the fact that her daughter had just pulled up to her house.


Here's the thing about Jane Phillips...she never really intended to be a mom. But once she was, she made sure to try and be the best damn mom she could.


                                                                              ***


"That's heavy, man," Alexis said, and Maddie nodded.


Alex, Lilian, Rina and Maddie were seated in the diner, in a booth, having breakfast. Lilian had just gone to pick Maddie up from her fathers, and after Maddie told her what her mother had told her father, and what her father had, in turn, told her, Lilian knew she needed other people to hear it. Alexis picked up her toast and took a bite out of it. This was one of her free days - she got a few every month to try to acclimate herself back into society - so she was able to get out of the hospital that morning when Lilian came to pick her up as well. Rina just stared dead eyed at Maddie while mindlessly sipping her coffee.


"She never came off as right in the head," Rina said, "no offense."


"Please, I have no interest in defending her," Maddie replied.


"So all those hunches, about your father being poisoned, I mean obviously we knew it was true but now it's like undeniable, right?" Alexis asked, "cause she just flat out admitted to attempted murder of her own spouse."


"Are there any adults you can trust?" Maddie asked glumly.


"You trust us, right?" Alexis asked, "well, the others. I'm not so much an adult, but you know what I mean."


This made Maddie laugh a little, and that felt good. She hadn't laughed in what felt like ages. Lilian stood up, excusing herself from the table before heading to the hall where the bathrooms were. She stopped in the hallway and pulled some change from her pocket, pumping coins into the payphone and making a call. A call she didn't really want to make. A call to her mother. The phone rang a few times, and finally Jane answered, sounding out of breath.


"Hello?" she asked.


"Mom? Are you okay?" Lilian asked.


"I was in the garage and came running when the phone rang, I'm just out of breath...and also out of shape," Jane said, making Lilian smile.


"Mom, I have a favor to ask..." she said.


Meanwhile, back at the table, Alexis finished her toast and sipped her coffee, sighing as she set the mug back down.


"Look, my parents were awful, ARE awful," Alex said, "like...they didn't give a shit whether me or my siblings lived or died, except maybe my sister Geena. But they certainly didn't give a flat fart about me, that's for damn sure. I once almost drowned at the beach and they just went along with their day, business as usual. Parents are a crapshoot, often because birth is like the genetic lottery. You just are brought into this world, against your will, and then whoever it turns out you're assigned to can range from amazing to outright shitbag. You're lucky in that at least your father is pretty good. You could've had it worse. You could've had my parents. Granted they never tried to kill eachother, but still. Purposeful negligence is almost as bad as malicious intent."


Maddie nodded, listening, but not looking up from the table. Alexis had a point, she couldn't deny it. She had always thought that she had a good family, maybe not a great family exactly, but a decent enough one. But now she could see it for what it was, an out and out lie. Just a performance. But she did have her father, and he clearly loved her to death. He was trying so hard to be the best dad he could be for her. Just then Lilian came back to the table, grabbed her coat and took Maddie by the wrist, tugging her from the booth.


"We have to go do something," Lilian said, "See y'all later."


As they exited hastily, Alexis looked at Rina, who raised an eyebrow in confusion.


"Did she just say 'y'all'?" Rina asked.


"She's been spending too much time around Tyler," Alex replied.


                                                                          ***


"Wow, that's...that's a lot," Jane said softly.


She was seated on the end of her bed as Lilian paced in front of her, Maddie waiting in the living room.


"I just...I thought maybe she would feel better to talk to a mom who...who...didn't try to kill her family members," Lilian said, "I don't exactly know what to say or do to help her, and you're the only person I could think of that might. She needs an adult, a real honest to god adult, not just someone like me or my friends who are still on the cusp of burdgeoning responsibility. She needs someone with life experience. She needs....you, mom. We need you."


"Well, you know I've always offered to help if I can," Jane said, "let's go out there, sit with her, chat and see what we can come away with, alright? The worst that can come from it is that she doesn't feel better, but she could never feel worse, so that's good."


With that, Jane stood up, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and, with Lilian, headed out of the bedroom, down the hall and to the living room where they found Maddie sitting on the couch, looking at a book she'd pulled off a nearby shelf. As they entered, she turned her head and glanced at them.


"You sure have a lot of books about the arts," Maddie said, "especially ballet."


"I love dance," Jane replied, "I wanted to be a dancer when I was a little girl, but my parents wouldn't spring for lessons. They thought the arts were frivilous indulgements, but that didn't kill my interest. I read all I could, practiced when I had the chance. Never got to actually get around to doing anything with it, but it's still a passion of mine. Do you have anything in particular that you believe in, love to do, more than anything else in the world?"


Maddie thought about this for a few moments, then shook her head.


"I don't...I don't think I ever really...got the chance to find anything," she said quietly, "my whole life was just school and being at home with my parents. I used to be in girl scouts, but that didn't last, and I never really had any friends, but not because nobody wanted to be but because I thought my parents were enough for me. Then I met Lily, and...I guess I realized that you don't have friends just because you want them, but you become friends with the people that really understand and accept you. Which, until then, was nobody."


Jane glanced at Lilian, who was seated in a chair across from the couch, and smiled at her. Lilian just shrugged.


"I like what we do together, the whole party thing," Maddie said, "but I can't say it's exactly what I wanna do my whole life, no offense."


"None taken, I'm with you on that," Lilian said.


"But, I'm still not sure what I would do if I had a choice," Maddie said, "I feel like I don't really know who I am. I think I spent so much time just seeing myself as my parents kid, that I never thought to, you know...be a person. Is that weird?"


"Not at all," Jane said, putting a hand on Maddie's shoulder, "and we'll gladly help you."


Lilian smiled warmly. She had had her doubts, as her relationship with her mother had always been somewhat rocky and shifting, but she knew that deep down she did care about others, and Lilian. That she really did like to help when and if she could. It was nice to see her try and do the right thing, even if she felt a bit jealous that she hadn't listened to Lilian herself this way when she had been a child.


                                                                             ***


Alexis was walking down the hall of the hospital, heading to her room, when she heard shoes coming up behind her and was happy to see Rick walking alongside her now. She smiled and handed the open container from the diner to him. He gladly accepted, taking half of the sandwich she had in there and biting into it as they kept walking.


"Where you been?" Rick asked.


"I had a free day, so I went out with a friend for breakfast," Alexis said, "why, you miss me?"


"God, am I that transparent?" Rick asked, making her blush; he continued eating the sandwich as she looked at her shoes while they went down the hall together.


"Next time I have a free day, or you do, or whatever, maybe..." Alexis said, trailing off. She'd never once in her life struggled to talk to someone like this, and she wasn't used to it, nor did she like it, but finally she managed to continue, "...maybe we could go do something together. Kind of, like...a date, I guess. I mean, if you wanna do that, date me, or, fuck. I don't even know what it is I'm saying. I've never dealt with these kinds of feelings before."


"I wanna show you something," Rick said, taking her by the wrist and leading her to his room. Once inside he locked the door, then instructed her to sit down in a chair, which she did. He then approached a covered up easel, and, grabbing at the end of the sheet over it, tugged it off and revealed a painting. A painting of her. A painting that looked like it'd been done by a professional with years of experience.


"Did...did you pay someone to do this?" Alexis asked.


"No! I did this!" Rick said, laughing, "when my sister and I were growing up, our folks threw a lot of money at us, hobby wise, so we both got really into painting, sculpting, whatever. That's part of why she's a baker now. Cause that was one of the ones that clicked for her most. I always liked painting though. Did it for years. I always...I always found it was a good alternative to keep myself off drugs. Even though I, ya know, always wound up back on drugs."


"It's beautiful," Alexis whispered.


"Well, that's cause you're beautiful," Rick said, approaching her, kneeling in front of the chair and taking her hands in his own, adding, "I would absolutely love to go out with you the next time we both have a free day, yes. I'll ask my sister for some money, so I can take you somewhere nice and-"


"We don't need to go anywhere nice, I'm a pretty easy going lady," Alexis said, snickering, "believe me, I won't say no to fast food."


"Yeah, sure, neither would I, but I feel like you've never been treated to something, and you deserve to be," Rick said, surprising her; he finally looked up from their hands at her face and smiled, "you really deserve to be. I wanna do that for you, please."


Alexis nodded, then looked over her shoulder at the door.


"That locked well?" she asked.


"Yeah, why?"


"Cause I wanna make out, and I don't wanna be interrupted," she said, making Rick laugh.


                                                                                ***


"The kid'll be okay," Jane said.


She and Lilian were standing in the kitchen, washing a few dishes while Maddie sat outside on a tree swing. Lilian wiped off a mug and handed it to her mother, clearing her throat as she gripped yet another mug and started the cycle over again.


"How come you never did that for me?" Lilian asked, "talked that openly, encouraged me to do pursue my own interests?"


"I did the best I could, Lily," Jane said, turning to face her, "I...I didn't expect to be a mom. It wasn't on my itinerary, believe me. And my own folks were...well, let's just say I didn't have much experience to pull from, example wise. I screwed up, I know that, but I tried. I tried so hard. I hope you believe me. All I wanted was for you to feel special, like you were the best, and for everyone else to see it too."


Lilian handed her mom this new mug and she put it aside with the other clean dishes. Lilian then sighed, set her washclothe down on the countertop and turned to look at her mother, who turned back to look at her. Neither woman said anything, but Lilian wanted to. She had so many things she wanted to say.


"I'm an adult and I don't know what I want to do," Lilian said, on the verge of tears, "I...I like what I do, but it isn't something I wanna do forever. But I also don't know what else I want to do. Like Maddie, I don't really know who I am or what I'm really interested in. It's like I grew up into a blank template of a person. Like I'm an uncolored page from a coloring book. All the pieces are there, but nothing is filled in. It...it's hard to know what...who...I am."


"You're my daughter," Jane said, "but that's an identifier, not an identity. It's just a place to start, to grow from. You might be my child, but you're your own adult. Start with that."


Jane put her hand son Lilian's arms, then pulled her in for a hug.


"I really did try my best," she whispered.


"I know mom," Lilian replied, "we all did."


By the time Lilian and Maddie were leaving, it had started raining lightly. Jane sent them home with some food, and even gave Maddie a few books of her choosing on subjects she was possibly interested in. As Lilian drove, she couldn't help but think that this was the single most productive instance of interacting with her mother in maybe her entire life, and it all came thanks to Maddie. She pulled up to a red light and stopped the car, the windshield wipers squeaking gently. She glanced over at Maddie, looking out the window.


"You okay?" Lilian asked.


"She killed a child. A child my age. She meant to kill my father. She might've even tried to kill me if she'd succeeded. She told me she never really wanted to have me. My mother kills people. But, if today taught me anything, it's that I might not know what I wanna be, but I do know what I don't wanna be," Maddie said.


"And what's that?"


"My mother."


"Well," Lilian said, "that's certainly a start."Here's the thing about Jane Phillips...she never really intended to be a mom.


That wasn't to say that, when the time came she didn't fully embrace and appreciate it, she did the absolute best she could, but it had never exactly been a goal for her. Jane had never been exactly...steady....mentally enough to have a child, but once Lilian arrived, she didn't try and weasel out of the responsibility. If anything, she did the opposite. She enrolled Lilian - with the financial help of her own parents - into the best preschool they had around, and then to a private elementary school. She made sure Lilian knew how to read, teaching her herself, getting books from the library out together and reading them in bed at night. She never scolded, she never threatened, she never talked down to. Sure, sometimes they had arguments, but she never said anything hateful or hurtful or damaging. Standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of juice and waiting for her pancakes to bubble, she saw the car pull up out front and quickly abandoned all other things to attend to the fact that her daughter had just pulled up to her house.


Here's the thing about Jane Phillips...she never really intended to be a mom. But once she was, she made sure to try and be the best damn mom she could.


                                                                                ***


"That's heavy, man," Alexis said, and Maddie nodded.


Alex, Lilian, Rina and Maddie were seated in the diner, in a booth, having breakfast. Lilian had just gone to pick Maddie up from her fathers, and after Maddie told her what her mother had told her father, and what her father had, in turn, told her, Lilian knew she needed other people to hear it. Alexis picked up her toast and took a bite out of it. This was one of her free days - she got a few every month to try to acclimate herself back into society - so she was able to get out of the hospital that morning when Lilian came to pick her up as well. Rina just stared dead eyed at Maddie while mindlessly sipping her coffee.


"She never came off as right in the head," Rina said, "no offense."


"Please, I have no interest in defending her," Maddie replied.


"So all those hunches, about your father being poisoned, I mean obviously we knew it was true but now it's like undeniable, right?" Alexis asked, "cause she just flat out admitted to attempted murder of her own spouse."


"Are there any adults you can trust?" Maddie asked glumly.


"You trust us, right?" Alexis asked, "well, the others. I'm not so much an adult, but you know what I mean."


This made Maddie laugh a little, and that felt good. She hadn't laughed in what felt like ages. Lilian stood up, excusing herself from the table before heading to the hall where the bathrooms were. She stopped in the hallway and pulled some change from her pocket, pumping coins into the payphone and making a call. A call she didn't really want to make. A call to her mother. The phone rang a few times, and finally Jane answered, sounding out of breath.


"Hello?" she asked.


"Mom? Are you okay?" Lilian asked.


"I was in the garage and came running when the phone rang, I'm just out of breath...and also out of shape," Jane said, making Lilian smile.


"Mom, I have a favor to ask..." she said.


Meanwhile, back at the table, Alexis finished her toast and sipped her coffee, sighing as she set the mug back down.


"Look, my parents were awful, ARE awful," Alex said, "like...they didn't give a shit whether me or my siblings lived or died, except maybe my sister Geena. But they certainly didn't give a flat fart about me, that's for damn sure. I once almost drowned at the beach and they just went along with their day, business as usual. Parents are a crapshoot, often because birth is like the genetic lottery. You just are brought into this world, against your will, and then whoever it turns out you're assigned to can range from amazing to outright shitbag. You're lucky in that at least your father is pretty good. You could've had it worse. You could've had my parents. Granted they never tried to kill eachother, but still. Purposeful negligence is almost as bad as malicious intent."


Maddie nodded, listening, but not looking up from the table. Alexis had a point, she couldn't deny it. She had always thought that she had a good family, maybe not a great family exactly, but a decent enough one. But now she could see it for what it was, an out and out lie. Just a performance. But she did have her father, and he clearly loved her to death. He was trying so hard to be the best dad he could be for her. Just then Lilian came back to the table, grabbed her coat and took Maddie by the wrist, tugging her from the booth.


"We have to go do something," Lilian said, "See y'all later."


As they exited hastily, Alexis looked at Rina, who raised an eyebrow in confusion.


"Did she just say 'y'all'?" Rina asked.


"She's been spending too much time around Tyler," Alex replied.


                                                                            ***


"Wow, that's...that's a lot," Jane said softly.


She was seated on the end of her bed as Lilian paced in front of her, Maddie waiting in the living room.


"I just...I thought maybe she would feel better to talk to a mom who...who...didn't try to kill her family members," Lilian said, "I don't exactly know what to say or do to help her, and you're the only person I could think of that might. She needs an adult, a real honest to god adult, not just someone like me or my friends who are still on the cusp of burdgeoning responsibility. She needs someone with life experience. She needs....you, mom. We need you."


"Well, you know I've always offered to help if I can," Jane said, "let's go out there, sit with her, chat and see what we can come away with, alright? The worst that can come from it is that she doesn't feel better, but she could never feel worse, so that's good."


With that, Jane stood up, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and, with Lilian, headed out of the bedroom, down the hall and to the living room where they found Maddie sitting on the couch, looking at a book she'd pulled off a nearby shelf. As they entered, she turned her head and glanced at them.


"You sure have a lot of books about the arts," Maddie said, "especially ballet."


"I love dance," Jane replied, "I wanted to be a dancer when I was a little girl, but my parents wouldn't spring for lessons. They thought the arts were frivilous indulgements, but that didn't kill my interest. I read all I could, practiced when I had the chance. Never got to actually get around to doing anything with it, but it's still a passion of mine. Do you have anything in particular that you believe in, love to do, more than anything else in the world?"


Maddie thought about this for a few moments, then shook her head.


"I don't...I don't think I ever really...got the chance to find anything," she said quietly, "my whole life was just school and being at home with my parents. I used to be in girl scouts, but that didn't last, and I never really had any friends, but not because nobody wanted to be but because I thought my parents were enough for me. Then I met Lily, and...I guess I realized that you don't have friends just because you want them, but you become friends with the people that really understand and accept you. Which, until then, was nobody."


Jane glanced at Lilian, who was seated in a chair across from the couch, and smiled at her. Lilian just shrugged.


"I like what we do together, the whole party thing," Maddie said, "but I can't say it's exactly what I wanna do my whole life, no offense."


"None taken, I'm with you on that," Lilian said.


"But, I'm still not sure what I would do if I had a choice," Maddie said, "I feel like I don't really know who I am. I think I spent so much time just seeing myself as my parents kid, that I never thought to, you know...be a person. Is that weird?"


"Not at all," Jane said, putting a hand on Maddie's shoulder, "and we'll gladly help you."


Lilian smiled warmly. She had had her doubts, as her relationship with her mother had always been somewhat rocky and shifting, but she knew that deep down she did care about others, and Lilian. That she really did like to help when and if she could. It was nice to see her try and do the right thing, even if she felt a bit jealous that she hadn't listened to Lilian herself this way when she had been a child.


                                                                                ***


Alexis was walking down the hall of the hospital, heading to her room, when she heard shoes coming up behind her and was happy to see Rick walking alongside her now. She smiled and handed the open container from the diner to him. He gladly accepted, taking half of the sandwich she had in there and biting into it as they kept walking.


"Where you been?" Rick asked.


"I had a free day, so I went out with a friend for breakfast," Alexis said, "why, you miss me?"


"God, am I that transparent?" Rick asked, making her blush; he continued eating the sandwich as she looked at her shoes while they went down the hall together.


"Next time I have a free day, or you do, or whatever, maybe..." Alexis said, trailing off. She'd never once in her life struggled to talk to someone like this, and she wasn't used to it, nor did she like it, but finally she managed to continue, "...maybe we could go do something together. Kind of, like...a date, I guess. I mean, if you wanna do that, date me, or, fuck. I don't even know what it is I'm saying. I've never dealt with these kinds of feelings before."


"I wanna show you something," Rick said, taking her by the wrist and leading her to his room. Once inside he locked the door, then instructed her to sit down in a chair, which she did. He then approached a covered up easel, and, grabbing at the end of the sheet over it, tugged it off and revealed a painting. A painting of her. A painting that looked like it'd been done by a professional with years of experience.


"Did...did you pay someone to do this?" Alexis asked.


"No! I did this!" Rick said, laughing, "when my sister and I were growing up, our folks threw a lot of money at us, hobby wise, so we both got really into painting, sculpting, whatever. That's part of why she's a baker now. Cause that was one of the ones that clicked for her most. I always liked painting though. Did it for years. I always...I always found it was a good alternative to keep myself off drugs. Even though I, ya know, always wound up back on drugs."


"It's beautiful," Alexis whispered.


"Well, that's cause you're beautiful," Rick said, approaching her, kneeling in front of the chair and taking her hands in his own, adding, "I would absolutely love to go out with you the next time we both have a free day, yes. I'll ask my sister for some money, so I can take you somewhere nice and-"


"We don't need to go anywhere nice, I'm a pretty easy going lady," Alexis said, snickering, "believe me, I won't say no to fast food."


"Yeah, sure, neither would I, but I feel like you've never been treated to something, and you deserve to be," Rick said, surprising her; he finally looked up from their hands at her face and smiled, "you really deserve to be. I wanna do that for you, please."


Alexis nodded, then looked over her shoulder at the door.


"That locked well?" she asked.


"Yeah, why?"


"Cause I wanna make out, and I don't wanna be interrupted," she said, making Rick laugh.


                                                                               ***


"The kid'll be okay," Jane said.


She and Lilian were standing in the kitchen, washing a few dishes while Maddie sat outside on a tree swing. Lilian wiped off a mug and handed it to her mother, clearing her throat as she gripped yet another mug and started the cycle over again.


"How come you never did that for me?" Lilian asked, "talked that openly, encouraged me to do pursue my own interests?"


"I did the best I could, Lily," Jane said, turning to face her, "I...I didn't expect to be a mom. It wasn't on my itinerary, believe me. And my own folks were...well, let's just say I didn't have much experience to pull from, example wise. I screwed up, I know that, but I tried. I tried so hard. I hope you believe me. All I wanted was for you to feel special, like you were the best, and for everyone else to see it too."


Lilian handed her mom this new mug and she put it aside with the other clean dishes. Lilian then sighed, set her washclothe down on the countertop and turned to look at her mother, who turned back to look at her. Neither woman said anything, but Lilian wanted to. She had so many things she wanted to say.


"I'm an adult and I don't know what I want to do," Lilian said, on the verge of tears, "I...I like what I do, but it isn't something I wanna do forever. But I also don't know what else I want to do. Like Maddie, I don't really know who I am or what I'm really interested in. It's like I grew up into a blank template of a person. Like I'm an uncolored page from a coloring book. All the pieces are there, but nothing is filled in. It...it's hard to know what...who...I am."


"You're my daughter," Jane said, "but that's an identifier, not an identity. It's just a place to start, to grow from. You might be my child, but you're your own adult. Start with that."


Jane put her hand son Lilian's arms, then pulled her in for a hug.


"I really did try my best," she whispered.


"I know mom," Lilian replied, "we all did."


By the time Lilian and Maddie were leaving, it had started raining lightly. Jane sent them home with some food, and even gave Maddie a few books of her choosing on subjects she was possibly interested in. As Lilian drove, she couldn't help but think that this was the single most productive instance of interacting with her mother in maybe her entire life, and it all came thanks to Maddie. She pulled up to a red light and stopped the car, the windshield wipers squeaking gently. She glanced over at Maddie, looking out the window.


"You okay?" Lilian asked.


"She killed a child. A child my age. She meant to kill my father. She might've even tried to kill me if she'd succeeded. She told me she never really wanted to have me. My mother kills people. But, if today taught me anything, it's that I might not know what I wanna be, but I do know what I don't wanna be," Maddie said.


"And what's that?"


"My mother."


"Well," Lilian said, "that's certainly a start."

Published on
The field was an absolute mess of a sight.

Men and women in various uniforms - firefighters, cops, medical workers - surveying the damage. Gathering bodies and putting them into body bags, then putting them into one of the numerous ambulances that were stationed there, ready to help any survivors they found, but...as of yet...they hadn't found a single one. A cough. Sheer back breaking pain. Eyes full of dust and smoke. What was even happening? What was the last thing they remembered? The plane. The plane going down, screaming, alarms. Suddenly they felt someone kneel beside them and as they rolled their half closed eyes to look up at the woman in the firefighter suit beside them, she looked ecstatic. She reached out and took their hand.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, and they nodded; she grinned even more, "okay, listen to me, you need to stay still, you've likely broken something, or everything, I don't know, I'm not a doctor. Either way, I'm going to get some help for you, we're gonna get you to a hospital, okay?"

They nodded again. The woman smiled sweetly, patted their hand and turned around, yelling over her shoulder.

"I need some help over here! I've got a survivor!" she shouted, "I need medical staff now!" she then turned back to them and asked, "Sweetheart, what's your name? Can you remember your name?"

"My name is Kelly," she whispered, "I'm Kelly."

"Is there someone we should call for you Kelly?" the firefighter asked, and Kelly nodded, coughing.

"Wyatt Bloom," she managed to say.

                                                                                                         ***

Wyatt was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his upstairs bathroom when he heard the door creak open, and looked up to see Rachel slowly slink into the room. He sighed and slid back into the tub actual, his legs hanging over the lip. Rachel carefully climbed in and positioned herself in the same manner, but neither one spoke. Wyatt chewed on his lip as he listened to Rachel pop the can of soda she'd brought in with her and start to drink it.

"She sounded so scared," he whispered, "she sounded...terrified."

"Well, I don't blame her," Rachel said, "I mean, she was on a plane going down. God knows nobody except perhaps the terminally suicidal are excited at that prospect."

"Fuck...this isn't Calvin's fault. It's mine. That's the worst part. I tried so hard to blame him, but-"

"Don't even," Rachel said, putting her drink down and grabbing Wyatt's hands, "don't you ever give him that freedom from the consequences of his actions, dude. He did this all on his own. He decided the Evergreens were a problem, he decided his teacher needed to go, and that's all there is to it."

"They're gonna trace it all back to him," Wyatt said, "you kill one man, okay fine, you might get away with that, but you down an entire airplane? There's no excuse for that. And I guarantee you he didn't know how to build a different kind of bomb. I guarantee that he made the exact same kind, and once that gets out, they'll trace it right back to the bomb that killed Grudin."

"Then let him take the fall," Rachel whispered, and this surprised Wyatt, who, up to this point, had been under the impression that Rachel was far more protective of people than he was; she shook her head and wiped her eyes, "she was my best friend, even after we fell out I still cared about her, and...and reconnecting with her was wonderful. And he took that away from me. So fuck Calvin. Let him go down in flames. If they need a scapegoat, let them scape him."

Wyatt nodded slowly as Rachel handed him her soda and he smiled, taking a long drink before Celia entered as well.

"Uh..." she said, "there's a hospital on the phone for you, Wyatt."

Wyatt and Rachel exchanged a look, and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"...it's Kelly," Celia said, "...she's alive."

                                                                                                       ***

When Angie Dickenson had been a little girl, she went to church every single Sunday, but this wasn't the typical church. Her parents were part of a group that didn't exactly worship the usual god, but instead a man who promised them eternal salvation. A man who went by the name Art Johnson. So every Sunday, they would get dressed up and they would drive down to the church he owned, and they would listen to him preach. And despite the fact that they were no longer associated with what was essentially a cult, Angie couldn't help but feel the need, the desire, to worship someone. She thought she found that someone in Oliver Brighton, but now...now she found that she far preferred to worship Wyatt Bloom.

She was sitting on her bed, cross legged and scrolling on her laptop while wearing track shorts and a tank top, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She hadn't showered since the news of the crash broke. It'd been a whole day, and she was still completely obsessed with looking up information of Wyatt - not hard to obtain when one was an active member of their local community, business owner and former star of the high school baseball team - and printing it all out, creating a bible of sorts. The door to her bedroom opened, and her mother popped in. Angie looked up from her screen, black licorice hanging from her lips.

"We're going to have dinner soon," her mother said, "Are you hungry?"

Angie nodded, not speaking.

"Did you take your medication?" her mother asked, and Angie nodded; her mother smiled, "okay, good, dinner will be ready in about ten. Wash up before you come down."

But Angie hadn't taken it. She hadn't taken it since leaving the Evergreens, tired of being under the control of chemicals and instead opting to be under the control of another outside source. A man she deemed to be worthy of worship. A man who had somehow foreseen the plane crash and warned her not to join them on it. Wyatt didn't know it of course, but his one act of decency would only become an enormous problem soon on down the road.

                                                                                                       ***

Calvin had left Wyatt's after their scuffle, and was now hiding in his shed.

He was sitting in total silence, no music, no television, nothing but the sound of air itself surrounding him. He looked to the lockbox sitting on a nearby upper shelf, and he slid off the stool and walked towards it. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around the edges, pulling it down from its not so hiding spot, and placed it on the workshop table, pulled the key from a drawer of a nearby table and unlocked the box, pulling out a small, black revolver. When he'd first thought about killing Grudin, he'd thought about shooting him, and purchased this pistol, but in the end he figured that was far too easy, and Grudin deserved worse. So he'd kept the gun, but never had a purpose for it, until now. Calvin reached into the box and gripped the pistol by the handle, lifting it and admiring it.

Calvin seated himself back on the stool and looked at the pistol gleaming under the sheds soft flourescent lights. His breathing got heavier, as he thought about his wife...his daughter....Kelly. He couldn't stand all this grief, especially the grief he himself had played a part in. Calvin lifted the gun to the side of his head and placed his finger on the trigger. He shut his eyes, feeling tears roll down his  face, and exhaled. All it would take was one simple gesture. A singular motion and it'd all be over. He'd be with his wife, his daughter, he'd exit this entire mess known as existence. He bit his lip and shook his head slowly. Everyone would be grateful. This was what Wyatt wanted anyway, he knew it. Suddenly his phone rang, and his eyes opened. He reached for the phone on the table and picked up.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Calvin, it's Rachel," Rachel said, "...we're at the hospital. Don't know if you should come, but I figured someone should at least tell you that Kelly is alive."

Calvin felt the air punched from him. Had he really heard what he'd thought he'd heard? Kelly had lived? Impossible. How could that even happen? Calvin set the gun down on the table, thanked Rachel for the information and then hung up the phone, placing it beside the gun before exhaling deeply a few times. Maybe...just maybe...it wasn't time to leave just yet.

                                                                                                        ***

Wyatt, Celia and Rachel were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, none of them seemingly able to process the fact that Kelly had, somehow against all odds, survived a plane crash caused by a bomb. After a bit of pacing, Rachel put her hands on her hips and looked at Celia and Wyatt sitting on the chairs near the large window.

"I'm gonna go get some food, does anyone want anything?" she asked.

"Cafeteria food or something edible?" Wyatt asked.

"Is now really the time you want to get semantic about quality?" Rachel asked, and Wyatt shrugged; she smirked and continued, "I was gonna go to the deli down the street. I'll bring back whatever, just...tell me what you guys want."

"I want a sandwich, something...italian, with cheese and salami and...whatever," Wyatt said, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet, sliding a credit card from it and handing it to Rachel, adding, "use my credit card, don't spend your own money, I got this. I got everything okay? And bring back coffee. Lots of coffee. Hard coffee."

"Will do," Rachel said, before turning and exiting, leaving them alone. Wyatt leaned back in the chair and exhaled, looking up at the ceiling as Celia crossed her legs and shook her head.

"You know," Celia said, "if you'd told me almost 6 months ago when we met at the reunion that we'd be sitting here, waiting to know the condition of someone we didn't even know then, I wouldn't have believed it. Everything since then has felt so unreal. It's almost been half a year, and...and I just...none of it feels real, Wyatt. Does it feel real to you?"

A long pause, as Wyatt thought, licking his lips.

"...for as long as I can remember, being out of high school hasn't felt real. Graduation just felt like a celebration, but a momentary one, you know? Like a birthday or a holiday or something. Not something that would signify the eternal shift into another moment of life altogether. You go to school for 18 years, and that's not counting college which can add on significantly to that timespan, and then suddenly...you just aren't doing that anymore. I worry about Mona. About whether she'll manage to make the adjustment to adulthood or not, because sure, I managed it, but I don't enjoy it. I wish it hadn't happened. Going to that reunion...it was...it was like going back in time, and it was the first time in years I'd felt like I was actually alive again."

Celia nodded solemnly, listening. She could understand this line of thinking, honestly. While she'd managed to make the transition easier than others, she still yearned for the time of her youth.

"Wyatt," Celia said, putting a hand on his knee, "you know this isn't your fault, right? You didn't cause this. Calvin did this all on his own. Grudin? Yeah, you might be able  to be held at least semi accountable for that, but this? This was all on him. He's dangerous, and...and we need to come up with a plan for the inevitable, because if he's capable of this, I fear he might be capable of anything."

Wyatt nodded in agreement. Celia had brought this up before, and Wyatt wasn't one to argue, especially at this point. Calvin had proven himself entirely unhinged, and willing to do awful things because to him the ends justify the means. Rachel returned a bit after this with food and coffee for everyone, and they waited, chatting, Rachel sharing a lot of stories about her and Kelly in school together to lighten the mood. After a bit, Celia left to go home for her son, Rachel dipped in order to get home to Sun Rai, and that left Wyatt all alone. When Wyatt was finally woken up, being shaken gently on the shoulder by a nurse, his blurry eyes immediately glanced at the watch on his wrist. 4am. He groaned and sat up, wiping the sleep from his face.

"Your friend is awake, and wants to see you," the nurse said, smiling at him, "if you'll follow me."

Wyatt immediately jumped up, best he could, and followed the nurse down a long hall, into an elevator and up three floors. Once there, she led him to a room, opened the door and let him enter. Wyatt walked in cautiously, unsure of what he was about to walk into, but when he saw Kelly, in all her rather undamaged glory, lying in the hospital bed, he felt all the anxiety and fear from the last 48 hours leave his chest. He smiled and sat down in a green metal chair beside the bed as Kelly rolled her head to look at him.

"You look alright," Wyatt said.

"What did you expect me to look like?" Kelly asked, half laughing, half wheezing.

"I don't know, deformed or something, you were in a plane crash for fucks sake," Wyatt replied, "who knows what kind of monstrous Mr. Potato Head deal they'd have to create to salvage your looks."

Kelly laughed, which hurt her chest, but it felt good to laugh again.

"Why me?" Wyatt asked.

"Why you what?"

"Why am I your emergency contact?" Wyatt asked, and Kelly sighed.

"...it was Rachel," Kelly said, "but I changed it after we started being friends, because she and I were still on such shaky ground. I didn't want to list my parents, cause they'd just freak out about it. But you're reserved, you keep a cool head, you're a smart man, and you care. I guess cause I trust you. I also didn't know anyone else to add. I don't really have many friends outside of you guys."

"That's hard to imagine, with how likeable and charismatic you are," Wyatt said, smirking, making her laugh again.

Wyatt wouldn't admit it, but he was so beyond relieved. Since meeting Kelly, he'd really come to genuinely appreciate her friendship, her insight, her enthusiasm. She was infectious in all the best, most non lethal ways, and he would've hated to have lost that just when he was getting used to it. But of course he didn't tell her who put the bomb in her bag, or that Calvin was involved at all. He kept her shielded from all that, because the less she knew the better. He'd already gotten so many other women involved in such sketchy activity, he didn't want to bring Kelly down to that level too. He was tired of hurting women, even unintentionally. He wasn't his father.

                                                                                                      ***

When Wyatt got home that morning, he found that Scarlett and the kids were still gone.

He showered, he ate breakfast, then got dressed to go to work. As he exited the house, briefcase in hand, he had no idea that right across the street, parked on the opposite side, was Angie Dickenson. She jotted down something in her small, black notebook and then watched him pull out of his driveway and head down the road to work. Once his car was well out of sight, Angie climbed out from her own car and headed across the street to the driveway, staring up at his house. So this was where a man of his stature, his importance, lived. She pulled her phone from her pocket and took a few quick shots of it, smiling to herself the whole time.

Some men or worship have churches. Wyatt had a two story suburban home.
Published on
Beatrice woke up, rolling over to find the other side of the bed empty. This was unusual. Usually she was up before Leslie, unless Leslie had meetings. She stretched, slid to the side of the bed and sat upright, pushing her feet into her slippers on the floor beside the bed. Bea stood up, walked to the dresser and grabbed her robe, pulling it around her before heading out of the bedroom. She headed down the hall, and could smell something coming from the kitchen. Leslie never made breakfast. Sometimes she made coffee (which she could also smell), but breakfast? Unless it was Bea's birthday and she'd somehow forgotten her own birthday. As she entered the living room, she found Leslie sitting on the couch, staring into the mug cupped between her palms. Beatrice stopped and looked at her, and Leslie finally looked up, but didn't say anything.

"...this is uncomfortable," Bea finally said, "this is the sort of tension one only encounters when they're about to be dumped. You're not dumping me are you?"

"No," Leslie said, laughing a little, shaking her head, "no, but I do need to talk to you about something."

Bea walked towards the kitchenette, grabbed her mug and filled it with coffee before looking back at Leslie.

"Um," Leslie said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, as if she'd been crying and trying to hide the evidence, "your father called."

That made Bea's stomach drop.

                                                                                                             ***

Delores opened the front door to find Justine standing there. Neither one spoke, but finally Delores threw her arms around her and invited her inside. Justine stepped inside and shivered. She hadn't been in her mothers house since...well...since before the accident. It felt like walking back into a previous life of sorts. Delores shut the door and turned to watch her daughter stop and look at the photos hung on the wall.

"God," Justine said, "I was such a dweeb."

"You were not!" Delores said, laughing, "you were a normal kid with normal interests!"

"There's nothing normal about being obsessed with art supplies," Justine said, "look at me, having an art themed birthday party. The only reason anyone even showed up was because their parents made them come. Absurd. I should've been cooler."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you were plenty cool," Delores said.

"You have to say that, you're my mom," Justine replied, smiling.

"Believe me, after some of the moms I've met lately, no, being your mom is not simply a prerequisite for appreciating you or being kind," Delores said, the both of them laughing as they entered the kitchen. Michelle was at work, so they had the house to themselves for the majority of the afternoon. Justine sat down at the table while Delores got them some sodas from the fridge, recalling her daughters proclivity for caffeine, and then seated herself as well. Justine's bag was on the table, and Delores's eyes were immediately drawn to it, wondering what could be inside.

"What have you been working on?" Delores asked.

"I've been doing watercolor illustrations for a new kids book that's coming out next fall," Justine said, "and that's been pretty entertaining. They really didn't have a specific set stylization in mind so it's really my own kind of look, and I always like when I get those projects. Other than that, nothing much. How's work?"

"Same old, same old. Case workers only do so much that it doesn't offer much variety," Delores said, "but it's nice to help others find stability or a road they can go down, you know? That gives me a sense of usefulness in the world."

"You have someone living here now? A girl named Michelle?"

"She's living here at the moment yes," Delores said, "comes from a really bad family, works for a film studio making props. I took her in mostly because she had a very scary medical emergency and..."

Delores looked down at the table.

"...she reminded me of you," she whispered, "and I missed having you around, so I guess, in some way, having Michelle around was like having you around again."

She wouldn't admit it, but that broke Justine's heart a little.

                                                                                                          ***

Michelle dropped her pair of pliars and collapsed on her butt on the stage. She wiped her brow with her sleeved arm and exhaled deeply. She heard the door to the studio open and spotted Liam walking in. She smiled as she scooted towards the edge of the stage while he approached, reaching out and handing her coffee and a gas station sandwich. She took both, setting the seran wrapped sandwich in her lap as she lifted the coffee to her lips and took a long sip.

"This is nice," she said, "it's like having my own secretary."

"Alright, well, you sure know how to kill kindness," Liam remarked, making her laugh as he looked around, adjusting his glasses and adding, "Where's Casey? She's not here?"

"She said she was running late, feeling sick," Michelle replied, shrugging, "whatever. I got this stuff done before without her, I can manage."

"Nobody's questioning your abilities. You've more than proven yourself. My concern lies more within the realm of Beatrice giving her a job she isn't even showing up to do," Liam said, leaning against the stage and unwrapping a candy bar.

"She's here on time most of the time, so what if she runs late now and then, not everyone can be perfect," Michelle said, and Liam sighed.

"You're right, not everyone can be like me," he said, the both of them smirking.

The more Beatrice had removed herself from hanging around production, the more Liam had taken her place, and frankly, Michelle liked this. When she was a little girl, her favorite character - aside from Bea, of course - was Liam's, and so to get to hang out with the man behind the cactus...it really brought her a sense of comfort and peace. Now here he was, bringing her coffee and snacks on the regular. This future was certainly something young, sick Michelle never could've foreseen.

"Well," Liam said, finishing his candy bar and wiping his hands on a hankerchief, "if she comes in, maybe have a talk with her about her scheduling."

"You're not a middle school principal," Michelle said.

"Don't crush my dreams," Liam said as he began to exit, making Michelle cackle. Michelle finished her coffee, ate half her sandwich and then went back to sculpting a new prop. After a little bit, the doors to the studio opened and Casey stumbled in, her eyes red and her hair a mess. Michelle didn't judge her by appearance though, lord knows she herself was usually a mess, so. Casey climbed onto the stage and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Hello," Michelle said, "you feeling okay?"

"...not particularly," Casey said, "...I saw my mom this morning."

"Oof. How was that?" Michelle asked as she set down her knife and picking up her pliars again.

"...I'm a bad person," Casey whispered.

                                                                                                        ***

"For a while it was hard, you know, to accept being so limited," Justine said, "I was always so active, so agile, even if I didn't play sports or whatever. I liked going for runs, I liked exercising, I loved riding my bike. To suddenly be stuck the way I was...it was scary. I guess I just felt...pathetic. To know this Michelle girl had it so much worse makes me feel even dumber about my issues regarding my mild time based disabilities."

"They're not comparative. You were in an accident. She was born with her problems. But you both overcame them, and even if you hadn't, think of all the things you managed to both accomplish while having those issues. You didn't let that stop you. I saw how often you worked. I saw all the books you did artwork for during that time. Michelle built an entire TV set in her rental home basement. Being disabled - whether chronically or for a brief time - doesn't mean you can't do something," Delores said, and Justine nodded.

"No, I...I know that. I get that. I'm not saying it would stop anyone," Justine said, picking out a cookie from the tin on the table, "I just...I don't know. It's hard to explain the terror that courses through you when you think your time has come."

A moment passed as they sat and drank soda and ate cookies. After a few minutes, Justine smiled.

"You always had cookies and sweets around," Justine said, "it's wild how I didn't grow up with more cavities."

"Because I made you brush your teeth," Delores replied, the both of them laughing.

The thing was...before the accident, Delores and Justine had the kind of relationship other mothers would kill to have with their child, regardless of gender, and after the accident, Delores never understood why Justine stopped talking to her, but she was far too scared to ask now. Really, she was just so very happy to have her back in her home right now. And, despite the break in communication, it really felt like nothing had happened between them, and they'd just fallen right back into that very same pattern they'd always had.

"For what it's worth," Justine said, "Michelle is very persuasive."

"What do you mean?" Delores asked, and Justine took a bite into the cookie in her hand.

"She tracked down my address and came to see me with some friends of hers," Justine said, shrugging, "she just said she felt compelled to help you re-establish communication for some reason she wouldn't explain. But whatever her reason was, it was...it was nice. She's a determined, kind person, and frankly...if you had to attach yourself to someone to replace me momentarily...I'm glad you picked someone who cares so much for you, mom."

Delores wanted to cry. She'd have to thank Michelle for her help when she got home that night. Maybe she'd buy a cake. She loved keeping sweets around for the sweet folks in her life, after all.

                                                                                                        ***

"You're not a bad person," Michelle replied, chuckling, "I think we're all in agreement that your mom was the bad person. Just because she makes you feel like shit during your brief and rare interactions doesn't mean she's right. You need to remember that her opinion is just that, her opinion, and not objective fact."

"She is right though," Casey said, still laying on her back, "I'm not defending her in any other instance, like...she's shit, you're not wrong, and you of all people would know what it's like to have a shit mom from what you've told me, but...but that doesn't mean what she thinks doesn't have validity or hold water in some instances. She's right. I'm a disgustingly bad person."

Casey finally rolled over and looked at Michelle, who was now moving onto painting this current prop, a berry bush that was to be planted right beside Bea's doghouse.

"Well," Michelle said, pulling her palette towards her and squeezing some different colors onto it, "for what it's worth, what we do in order to cope might be unhealthy, but it's how we get by and there's no shame in that. I didn't have a good home growing up, so instead I built a whole set in my basement, because the Beatrice Beagle set was the only place that ever felt like home. Is that normal or healthy? Absolutely fucking not."

Casey and Michelle laughed a little, as Michelle cleared her throat, dipped her brush into the water can and then applied some paint.

"But," she continued, "it's what kept me going completely bonkers. Between her and my health, I had to have something, you know?"

"I need help," Casey whispered.

"What kind of help?" Michelle asked, "Cause you've got health insurance now through this job, so you could easily get medication or some form of therapy or-"

"I need help," Casey repeated, and Michelle nodded, setting her brush down and, sitting cross legged, turned to face her.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

"....I need to go to rehab," Casey whispered, almost embarrassed.

"Then that's what we'll do," Michelle said, smiling warmly.

Whatever Casey had done to suddenly be immersed in such positive genuine caring, she wasn't sure, but she sure appreciated it. Maybe the universe was finally giving her a chance to turn around. She and Michelle came from sort of the same situation, were sort of alternate ends of the spectrum of eachother, and it was nice to know that she had a friend who understood her without judgement. That was, as she knew all too well, very hard to come by. She was going to take whatever help was offered.

                                                                                                           ***

Justine held her bag in front of her as she stood by the front door, waiting for her mother to come back from the kitchen. When she finally did, she pushed an entire enormous tupperware into her hands filled to the brim with home baked sweets. Justine just laughed as she clutched it, then let Delores hug her.

"This was so nice," Delores said, "please come by again soon."

"I wanna give you something, mom," Justine said, putting the tupperware down and opening her bag, pulling out a rectangularly shaped wrapped gift and handing it to her mother; Justine added, as she zipped her bag back up and picked up the tupperware once more, "...I made this for you. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?"

"I get off work at 7," Delores said.

They hugged once more, and then Justine exited the house. Delores stood on the porch, hugging the gift to her chest and waving, and didn't go back inside until Justine's car was fully out of sight. Once she was no longer visible, Delores headed back indoors and seated herself on the couch. She slowly unwrapped the gift, and then stared at the cover; a beautiful hand painted water color and pastel colored image of a woman, who looked suspiciously similar to Delores, and a little girl who looked almost identical to Justine as a child. The title, shimmering in its glittery font, was thusly "Worlds Greatest Mom". Delores wanted to cry. She couldn't stop smiling. She began to slowly open the book, and flip through the pages, reading the story. Justine had written and illustrated and published this book specifically for her mother, and it told the true tale of a wonderful mother, and her devout dedication to her daughter.

Children really were the gift that kept on giving.

                                                                                                            ***

Eliza was sitting at her train set up in her bedroom when someone knocked on her door. She figured it was her father, coming to either ask her what she wanted for dinner, or tell her dinner was ready, so she pulled her noise cancelling headphones off and looked towards the door, saying they could come in. But as the door slowly opened, instead she was surprised to see, of all people, Beatrice standing there. Eliza raised her eyebrows in curiosity, as Bea entered and shut the door behind her.

"Um...is there somewhere I can sit?" Bea asked, her voice sounding hoarse and strained, like she'd been yelling all day.

"There's a stool over there at my desk," Eliza said, pointing across the room. Beatrice walked across the room and pulled the stool towards the tiny town table set up. She sat down on it and watched as the train headed through the town, then up into a small forest and continued round in circles like that for a bit.

"You know," Bea finally said, "when I was a child-"

"You don't have to talk," Eliza said, "you sound like you gargled rocks."

Bea just smirked and continued, "-I used to live out in the country, and for fun, my parents would take us to a nearby train station."

"Us?" Eliza asked.

"My dog and I," Bea said, "I didn't have any friends growing up, just my dog. Anyway, we used to go to this small train station, and watch it come in and leave. Rarely did anybody board, it wasn't very exciting, but there was a small, sort of quiet comfort to seeing something just doing its job. I think that's where I got the notion that just doing your job was enough. That if you dedicated your time and effort to something important enough to you, then your time spent on this world was enough, regardless of what anyone else might think. You have your puppets, Michelle has her props, you all know what I mean."

Eliza nodded as the train came around a small mountain pass. Silence filled the room as Bea sniffled and wiped her eyes on her palm before continuing.

"...but now, I don't know. Maybe it isn't enough. Maybe there's more to it. Sure, having people you love work with you is nice. Having both important things rolled up into one thing, that's a beautiful gift not everyone gets. Most people don't get. Most people don't form close, life long bonds with their coworkers. What we do, Eliza, is very special and beautiful, and I'm so grateful for you and Michelle and Liam and everyone else I get to work with on a day to day basis."

"Well, thank you, we love you too," Eliza said.

More silence. Bea watched the train as it stopped a station and waited there for a bit, smoke coming from its stack.

"My mother died this morning," she finally said, ending the silence, surprising Eliza.

"Did...did you come to me cause my mom is dead too?" Eliza asked, and Beatrice finally broke, starting to cry. Eliza scooted her seat over towards Bea's and put her arms around her, hugging her tightly as Bea sobbed. The train started again and continued along its predetermined path. Eliza watched it move, and then shut her eyes, just listening to the sound of its wheels on the track. Eliza rested her head on top of Bea's and continued to stroke her back.

It was true, though Bea wouldn't openly admit it, that she'd come to Eliza for that exact reason, but also because Eliza was bar none the most comforting person she knew. More than Michelle, more than Leslie, more than anyone else, she knew that Eliza would know, especially in this particular situation, how to help. Eliza felt like she'd inadvertantly killed her own mother, while Beatrice knew her mothers death was sudden and without warning. And yet, that one thing Beatrice couldn't shake was that feeling...the feeling she had when she awoke that morning.

"It's weird," Bea said, wiping her eyes on her arm, "it's so weird, the...the tonal shift in the world around you that you can sense when something has either happened or is about to happen. Maybe it's something only really empathetic people are aware of, but...this morning, before I even knew...I knew. I could tell something was off. The air felt stale, the world was quiet. There was just a sense of...emptiness."

"That's how that day with my mom felt," Eliza said, "something about the whole day felt off, and then after it happened, it sort of made sense why. So yeah, I get that."

"They always say you never expect it, that it...it just happens, these moments of loss, but I disagree," Bea said, "It's like people who say they saw the person they wanted to marry and knew that was who they were meant to be with, you know? Whether you're aware or not of the life changing event, you know it when it happens. You always know it when it happens."

Eliza nodded, and the two sat silently, watching the train make another complete round and coming to another stop.

"My mom's dead," Beatrice whispered.

"Mine too," Eliza replied.

And no more needed to be said. Acknowledgement was hard enough.
Published on

Brian had to almost wonder if he'd just hallucinated what he'd heard. His eyes wide, his mouth slackjawed, he couldn't even fathom what his soon to be ex-wife Jessie had said. He just stared dead ahead at her, unsure of how to even parse the information. After a few minutes, he started looking absentmindedly around at everything alse nearby and then finally his eyesight landed back on hers, and she just looked away.


"Come again?" he finally asked.


"I said it was meant for you," Jessie said quietly.


"That's what I thought you said," Brian said.


An impasse. How does one even go forward from an admission of that caliber? He shook his head slowly, running his hands through his hair as Jessie crossed her legs. Brian finally looked back at her, chewing on his nails anxiously. He couldn't believe it. After all the years they'd been together, having a child together, a seemingly okay marriage, and now this? He didn't even know how to respond or react. Part of him wanted to storm out. Part of him wanted to shriek and scream. Part of him wanted to just simply break down and cry uncontrollably, because...because how does one react when they learn their spouse had tried to kill them?


No, not the poisoning. He'd suspected that. But this was an admission of attempted murder long before that. Back during Maddie's birthday party. He finally looked back at her, and still couldn't find the words. Would he ever? That would remain to be seen, but he'd try. After all, he only had so much time for visitation.


                                                                                ***


"Okay, now you go," Rick said, handing Alexis his glass soda bottle. She took a long swig, wiped her mouth on her arm and then nodded, watching and waiting.


"I spy, with my little eye, someone with a very clear meth addiction," Alexis said, and Rick cackled as he started to scope out the potential candidate. Alexis had to admit, ever since meeting Rick, her enjoyment in rehab had certainly improved threefold. At first she felt so alone, so ignored or misunderstood, but now she had someone on her side - other than John, of course - and that helped so much.


"That lady right there," Rick said, pointing towards a young woman pulling her hair ends into her mouth and chewing on them. Alex nodded, and they both started laughing. She handed him back his soda and he took a long drink, then burped, which made Alex laugh more.


Was it morally correct to make fun of others here, who maybe weren't doing as well as they seemed to be? No, not really, but they didn't care. Whatever helped them get through the day. Besides, it wasn't like they weren't self degrading enough as it was to make up the difference.


"So, you got any plans for when you get out?" Rick asked, and Alexis laughed.


"I don't know, man, the world might've changed so much during my time on the inside, I might not manage to get accustomed to it," she remarked, making him cackle again; she loved making him laugh, but she did answer his question, saying, "Actually, I'll probably just go back to work, honestly. I love my coworkers and what I do."


"And what is it you do?" Rick asked.


"I dress up as a pirate for themed parties," Alexis said, "it's a pretty good job, honestly."


"You've got total pirate vibes, I could see it," Rick said, making Alexis blush as she looked down at her shoes. Rick put his hand on hers on the cement ledge of the flower planter they were sitting on, and she blushed even harder. Part of her hated herself, she had never let a guy get to her like this before, but Rick was not the ordinary guy she ran into. Not some creep or weirdo. He was...just a mess like her, and not shy about it. And he was here, clearly trying to get better. She admired that. With her free hand, she pushed her hair back behind her ear and looked over at him, noticing he was looking at her.


"What?" she asked.


"Nothing," he said, "nothing just...sitting here in front of the flowers, it doesn't seem very fair, you know? Forcing them to compete with you."


Alexis giggled like an idiot and looked away again, which made him grin. He then squeezed her hand and she squeezed back happily. Turned out rehab had become the best thing to happen to her, and not even for the reasons one would expect.


                                                                                 ***


"How about this?" Rina asked, holding up a long, sleek black dress with wispy tears at the bottom and at the ends of the sleeves. Lilian chewed on her lip, admiring it for a moment, before shaking her head. Rina looked at it and then looked back at Lilian and asked, "why not? What's wrong with it?"


"It's too....college girl trying to be a slutty witch for Halloween sort of thing. Which, I mean, good for her, she should own her sexuality, but it wouldn't fit for what you're trying to do," Lilian said, "we're doing parties for kids mostly, not trying to get laid at a mixer like Janet."


"Janet?"


"She's the slutty witch at college," Lilian said.


"Do you just always make up people for your explanations?" Rina asked, chuckling as she slid the dress back on a hanger and placed it back on the rack, searching for another.


"Sad thing is," Lilian said, "she's not even the biggest problem in their house. I mean, don't get me wrong, her parents are exactly comfortable with her flaunting her newfound sexual freedom or anything, but it's the 21st century. They're used to liberated, independent women. They're far more concerned with her little brother, who's a cheerleader with murderous interests."


"What is wrong with you?" Rina asked, the both of them cracking up; she then made a squealing noise as she yanked another dress from the rack and showing it to Lilian. This was was a little more shapeless, but still hugged the hips to keep it on her, and had a v-neck but wasn't a plunging neckline. Rina shook her head, almost in a "do you accept it?" sort of manner.


"That's...not bad, actually," Lilian said, "But we need to find a hat to go with it. Let's go see if we could find a hat."


Together, Lilian and Rina headed off to the hat department of the costume shop, dress hung over Rina's arm as they walked.


"How did you find your costume?" Rina asked, and Lilian sighed.


"Actually," she said, "my main one, my favorite one, was hand stitched by my grandmother for my mothers high school prom. But she made it too elegant, too much like a princess dress, and my mother refused to wear it. When I told my grandma about what I wanted to do for work, she dug it out of the attic and gave it to me, happy to see it being useful after all."


"That's a nice story," Rina said, smiling, reaching out and grabbing a witch hat, plopping it on her head and asking, "What about this?"


"That's the kind of hat Janet would wear, come on," Lilian said.


"I think Janet has good taste then!" Rina remarked, the both of them cracking up.


Lilian had always liked Rina, and likewise the other way around, but aside from their tenuous attachement to Maddie at best, they'd never really had a reason to hang out. Rina was honestly, frustrating as it might be, happy about her money troubles if only because it meant now she got the chance to really get to know Lilian as a friend, and that's something she'd always really wanted. Lilian had just accepted Rina at face value, and not based on her parents wealth, or her race, or anything else. She just took her as she was, and that was something Rina wasn't often given, so when she was, she was appreciative of it. And she also liked how well Lilian treated Maddie, and now, seeing them live together the way they were, she really was happy their paths had all crossed the way they had.


"Well, I think I need a broom," Rina said, "It'll help actually cause it won't be just a prop but after the party I can help clean up and maybe get a bigger tip."


"That's...not a bad idea, actually," Lilian said, "Let's go find a broom. Just...try not to be all Janet about it."


"Is Janet based on a real person?" Rina asked, "because this all oddly extremely specific."


                                                                                   ***


"It wasn't meant to get mixed in," Jessie said, sitting in the awkward, uncomfortable silence of their conjugal meeting room; she wiped at her red eyes and continued, her voice shaky, "uh...that was an accident. I kept it separate because I wanted to give it to you specifically, a sort of 'hey, I know you like these' kind of thing, but then one of the other women at the house that day thought it had just been left behind so she put it into the pinata."


"Why didn't the coroner notice it was poisoned?" Brian asked, "I mean, wouldn't that have shown up on bloodwork results during an autosopy?"


"I was as surprised as you are about that, actually, but I think because the kid had a peanut allergy, and it did happen to have peanuts in it, they took that as fact," Jessie said, "Honestly, I was shocked. I was sure they would find that. But I guess it was just overlooked."


Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.


"Why would you wanna kill me, Jess? What did I do to you?"


"It isn't...it isn't about what you did to me," Jessie replied, "um...I just didn't see another way out. A divorce would be a longed, dragged out process that would scar Maddie for life-"


"And her father dying wouldn't?" he asked snappily.


"-and you made more money than me, let's be honest, and I wouldn't have been given custody, not that I would've wanted it anyway," Jess said, "I didn't want a child. You did. I only gave into it because...because I thought if I didn't, you wouldn't want to stay married to me. But then she comes along, and you give her all your spare attention, and...I don't know. Maybe I'm just really sick in the head."


"That's a factor, certainly," Brian said, "but it's just that, a factor, not a full on explanation. You don't get to get off that easily after doing something so monstrous. You say you didn't wanna scar Maddison, then you, inadvertantly, kill a kid at her birthday party and then poison her father after he has a heart attack. I mean, if you didn't want her, what would you have done once I was gone? Dumped her on a relative or something?"


Jessie shrugged and looked away again. She couldn't look Brian in the eye.


"...you could've just wanted to leave," Brian continued, "I would've let you. If you were that unhappy, I would've given you a substantial amount to survive on til you got on your feet, you wouldn't have had to take Maddie with you, none of this would've happened. You could've just left, Jess. But I'm glad you didn't."


"You are?"


"Yeah, I'm glad you did what you did, cause now the whole fuckin' world knows what kind of desperate person you are, and the lengths you'll go to get what you want. You're self obsessed, and nobody with that amount of ego should be able to walk freely among others. You're a risk to the public. I don't know what happened to the woman I met, the woman I loved, but you aren't her."


A long pause, and Jessie sighed, nodding.


"You're right, I'm not," she said.


And that was the moment they acknowledge their marriage was truly over.


                                                                           ***


Alexis and Rick were still outside, now sitting on a bench. Well, Rick was sitting on the bench, Alex was laying on it with her head in his lap. The sun was starting to go down, and they'd have to head back inside anytime now, but for the moment, this was a small creature comfort they could enjoy together.


"...I hate sunsets," Alexis said, making Rick almost spit out his drink in laughter.


"God, you're like an anti romantic!" he said, making her chuckle.


"I just...I don't like knowing that another day is coming, you know? When you live with depression, especially depression as serious as I have, it's hard to wanna continue to see another day. You fight just to get through every 24 hour period as it is, and...and when you finally get through it, you're like, well, here comes another one, oh boy. Don't get me wrong, they're beautiful, but they're representative of the future. A future that, frankly, I'm not sure that I want."


"What kind of future do you want?" Rick asked, "like, if you could do anything after you get out of here, I mean I know you said you love your job and all but, what kind of future would you like to have?"


Alexis thought about this for a moment as she continued to pull the petals off a flower in her hands.


"I don't know. Something where I get to go home at the end of the day and...and I feel safe and seen and understood. Where I'm not judged for my actions, but accepted in spite of them. Something where I look forward to the sun rising, not feel sad because it's setting," Alexis said, "I want to want to live."


Rick nodded, listening. He looked down at her, and she looked up at him, her hands, flower between them, resting on her chest. A few people walked by, and he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She was expecting it, yet still surprised somehow. She let go of the flower and took his face between her hands, kissing him back. After their lips parted, their foreheads still together, he smirked at her, and she blushed.


"That does sound like a nice future," he said, "I want you to want to live too."


Alexis had never had much experience, and even less success, in the romance department. For a long time, she questioned what she even preferred, because she'd never really been with anyone in any kind of way that was meaningful. But here, now, being kissed during a sunset while holding a flower, she realized what she was was actually a hopeless romantic, and she knew now that the thing she wanted more than getting sober, was the hope of having someone be sober with her.


"I'm gonna kiss you again," Rick whispered.


"You damn well better," she replied softly, the both of them laughing lightly as he did.


                                                                             ***


Lilian and Rina, having found the right costume for her witch persona, were now sitting at a noodle shop, eating two different kinds of soups. Seated in the booth as it had started to rain a little outside, neither one said a word, and it was a comfortable kind of silence they both appreciated being able to have between them. Lilian always felt like she had to fill every moment with someone else with dialogue of some sort, but with Rina, she could just exist, and that was nice.


"Did you bring me here just cause I'm Chinese?" Rina asked, and Lilian laughed.


"Look, if you were Mexican I still would've come here, it's cheap and it's nearby," Lilian said, "I swear I'm not a racist on purpose."


Rina laughed as she lifted her bowl to her lips and drank some of the broth. After she finished she set the bowl back down and sighed, looking around at the other people in the restaurant. She then turned her gaze back on Lilian, who was slurping a few thick noodles and a piece of beef in between her teeth.


"How is Maddie doing?" Rina asked.


"She's...having a bit of a hard time right now," Lilian said, "she started her period, so that was fun, and then she went to have a visit with her mother. Been a rough few weeks. But she's doing as well as one could expect a kid her age to be doing. Little fucker's resiliant."


"Indeed she is!" Rina agreed, laughing, "that's good though, I'm glad she feels comfortable with you guys. I'm glad she had somewhere safe to go. If given the option, I wouldn't have been able to house her, just because I'm still in school and stuff and live with my folks. So I'm glad she had somewhere, someone, to turn to in her time of need. Believe me, if things were different and I was capable of doing so, I would've in a heartbeat. Love that kid."


"She's lucky," Lilian said, setting her spoon in her bowl and wiping her mouth on her napkin, "like...when we were kids, granted there's a bit of an age difference between you and I but not much, we didn't have a whole support system, you know? We had our parents, and maybe a cool aunt or uncle, but on the whole, we didn't have an entire village helping to raise us. Maddie has so many adults who care about her, and that's...that's really cool. I'm happy to be a part of that."


"I think people realized at a certain point that a child shouldn't be solely dependent on their parents, you know, especially for emotional needs," Rina said, "parents can suck."


"Indeed," Lilian said, nodding in agreement, thinking of her own mother, "but sometimes they try, they just don't know how to do it very well, and that's worth recognizing too. Her father is like that. He can't be worse than her mom, after all."


                                                                            ***


Maddie, much like her father, didn't know how to react or respond to the information she'd just had laid bare before her.


Maddie was spending the night with her father and his home nurse, and after Brian had come home, and told her exactly what her mother had told him, her whole worldview changed within a minute. She just couldn't fathom that someone who claimed they loved someone, had married them as a way to express that love, had a child with them as a way to further that proof of love...would want to then kill said person. It just didn't compute for her.


Maddie was now lying in her old bedroom on the floor, staring at the ceiling and her glow in the dark stars, and she wanted to just scream and swear, denounce her mother, but she'd already said what she needed to to her, nothing more really had to be done or could be done that would further prove her disinterest in their dissolved parent/child relationship. All she could think of was her classmates face during those final moments, and how it had been meant for her father.


And if her mother was capable of doing that to him...to someone that she she had once loved...


...what might she have done to Maddie if given the chance? To someone she'd openly admitted to never having wanted?

Published on
Casey didn't know if she belonged here.

She had been assigned as Michelle's assistant, which meant helping Michelle sculpt, paint and create new set pieces for the show, or doing upkeep on the set pieces they already had. But standing here, trying to coat Beatrice's doghouse in a new sheen of red, she had to wonder if this was really what she wanted to be doing. She thought, with her artistic skill, that she would be doing something more worthwhile for her time. The doors to the area where they worked opened and Liam walked inside with Leslie beside him. Leslie was drinking from a styrofoam cup of coffee, while Liam was carrying more coffee towards the stage where Michelle was.

"All I'm saying is that you're spending more money buying coffee than just making your own," Leslie said in between sips.

"That's hypocritical, you can't criticize the very thing you're partaking in," Liam said.

"Oh to the contrary, watch me," Leslie said, "I'm a television executive, I can make all sorts of bad decisions."

Liam laughed as they reached the stage and Michelle scooted herself to the edge, setting her sculpting tools down and reaching out as Liam handed her a cup. He then looked behind her towards Casey, who just hid her face even more from view. Liam shrugged and put the carry container on the stage, pulling his own cup from it.

"Michelle, you don't think I'm just a complainer do you?" Leslie asked.

"What are you bitching about now?" Michelle asked, making Liam laugh again.

"You know, artistic immunity doesn't mean you don't have to respect your superior," Leslie said, smirking.

"And how exactly are you superior to me?" Michelle asked, and Leslie opened her mouth to reply, then shrugged and shut her mouth; Michelle nodded, adding, "Exactly."

"How're things going?" Liam asked, nodding towards Casey. Michelle glanced back over her shoulder and sighed, then looked back at Liam and Leslie.

"It's going," she said, shrugging, "what's with all the coffee lately? You've been on some kind of kick."

"Coffee's good, also it's supposed to help reduce the risk of cancer," Liam said, "what, you don't like coffee?"

"I don't know that I ever really drank it much before I met you guys," Michelle said.

"Look at us," Leslie said, "We're such good influences."

Casey would be lying if she said she didn't want to participate, but truth be told, she'd never learned how to make friends and she sure didn't know where to start now. She knew she wanted to know these people, the people Beatrice was apparently so very close to, but she didn't know how to do that. How does one become friends? Do you just walk up, introduce yourself and invite yourself in? That seemed...rude. So instead, Casey did what she'd been doing ever since she was a little girl. Hiding in the shadows. Pretending she couldn't be seen. Hiding had long since become a defense mechanism for her, and she wasn't about to give that up just yet.

                                                                                                       ***

Eliza pushed her glasses up on her face with the bottom of her palm and then stuck her needle between her lips and pushed the puppet under the sewing machine, starting to stitch it at a faster rate. Keagan was sitting in a chair a bit aways from  the desk, enjoying the sounds of the machine whirring.

"There's something oddly comforting about the noise of a sewing machine," Keagan said, "My grandmother sewed a ton, and I remember her sewing machine was right in the living room, and when I'd sleep over when my mom worked late, I'd fall asleep to the sound of her sewing and humming to herself."

Eliza smiled.

"That's a nice memory," Eliza said, and Keagan sighed.

"Do you ever miss stuff like that? Really little seemingly inconsequential things that you can't get back? I mean, I know you lost your mom, so that's why I figure you of all people would understand what I mean," Keagan said, and Eliza sighed as she stopped sewing and turned to face Keagan in her chair.

"I don't know," Eliza said, "I guess I think of it more like...I never leave those moments. I am always in them. That way I can't miss anything. I know that's probably not considered 'healthy' but what is? I prefer to just stay in those moments because, no matter how good my present or my future might become, they'll never top the awesome power of childhood wonderment."

Keagan smirked, nodding in agreement. Everyone always talked about Eliza being mentally disabled, but the more time Keagan spent with her, the more she didn't see what they meant. Course, she also knew there was a spectrum of disability, and clearly Eliza was capable of speech and thought on an adult manner when she wanted to be. Keagan finally got up from her seat and stretched for a minute, before heading to the table where Eliza was working and looked over her work.

"You think it's about finished?" she asked.

"You tell me, it's your puppet," Eliza said, "if there's anything you want added, just let me know."

Keagan picked up the puppet, and looked it in the face. In a weird way, she felt incredibly attached to this puppet, as if it were truly an extension of herself. She felt a pang of love in her chest, and she hugged the puppet to her chest, almost feeling as if she were going to start crying. Eliza watched, smiling weakly, as Keagan just appreciated the moment.

"You know," Eliza finally said, "people don't respect puppetry anymore. Not in this age of CGI and other visual effects. Practical effects have taken a big hit, but puppetry especially. And it's weird, because as children, we saw puppets as just another living thing. We learned from them. We empathized with them. And then, at some point, we just...lose that ability. We forget the things they thought us as children, and instead become the worst versions of ourselves. Puppets are capable of doing so much for us, but we've turned out back on them. As someone who's had way too many backs turned on her...I guess I refuse to do that to something that's helped me so much."

Keagan looked up from hugging the puppet, Serena, and looked at Eliza who was now looking down at her drafting table again. Eliza sighed and pushed her glasses up again, before adjusting the bow keeping her bushy hair in a bun.

"I think you're the most human person on this show," Keagan said.

"I'd rather be a puppet," Eliza said, smirking a little.

Keagan walked up to Eliza's chair and, reaching out, engulfed her in a hug as well.

"I hope Michelle knows how lucky she is, having you," Keagan said, "and I hope she never takes you for granted."

"She doesn't, and she knows," Eliza said, "...I like hugs."

Keagan laughed a little and hugged a bit tighter. Eliza hadn't had a lot of hugs in the last few years, until she met these people and started working for Beatrice again, and now she was being smothered in affection, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

                                                                                                    ***

Michelle and Casey were sitting on the stage, unpacking their lunches. Or, rather, Michelle was unpacking the lunch Delores always made for her, while Casey was having a lunch provided by the studio because she couldn't afford food on her own. As Casey unfolded the sandwich they'd given her, and untwisted the cap on her glass soda, Michelle wiped her mouth on her sleeve and pulled open a bag of chips, then holding it out towards Casey to share, which made Casey smile weakly as she reached within it and grasped a small handful.

"Thank you," Casey said softly.

"You're pretty handy with these tools, I'm impressed," Michelle said.

"Well," Casey said, "um, I'm good with my hands in general. That's why I draw, do art."

"That's cool," Michelle said, smiling kindly as she picked up the peach Delores had packed and bit into it, speaking as she chewed, "it was nice of Bea to give you a job, especially cause I really needed help around here."

"Maybe she did it more for your sake than mine," Casey said flatly.

"Nah, Bea doesn't just do things for me. She only gives jobs to those she sees purpose in, and I think she saw herself in you," Michelle said, "that's why she hired me. Cause of my resiliance in getting the show back out in public consciousness and stuff. But I'm glad you're here, cause I really did need help, cause I can only do so much sculpting and painting and stuff on my own. Plus you deserve it."

"Nobody's ever been glad I've ever been anywhere, so...thanks, I guess," Casey said, and Michelle looked at her with those wide, comforting eyes; Casey swallowed her sandwich bite, sighed and then said, "I mean, you heard what I told that woman we met with, what was her name? Anyway. My mom was awful. That's why I spent so much of my time watching TV, and Beatrice always felt so...comforting. Like she was a mom from another place."

"She did," Michelle said, nodding in agreement as she took another bite of her peach.

"That's why I started drawing, cause she said art was a way to escape and understand pain," Casey said, "so I did just that. I found ways to escape what she was doing to me, or letting others do to me."

"Everyone needs an outlet," Michelle said.

"I can't help but feel like I don't fit in though, but that's not surprising, I've never felt like I fit in anywhere, so why should it be any different here? Even working for Beatrice, I still feel like an outsider. You all have so much history, chemistry, and I'll never reach that level no matter how long I'm here for," Casey said, "I'll always be the outsider."

Casey lifted her drink to her lips and took a very long drink, as Michelle sighed and pulled her hair back in a bushy ponytail.

"Let me tell you a story," Michelle said, "I never fit in anywhere either. Even coming here, I still felt that way. I was always a weird, introverted person who couldn't do a lot cause of my medical issues. I mean, I did what I could, I didn't let that define me, but...no matter how much you try not to let something define you, it still does. If something restricts you that much, it defines you. But there's no shame in that. So I accepted I was sick, and instead turned my focus on doing my work here until my health concerns became so great they couldn't be ignored. That's what you need to do. Give all that energy, whether positive or negative, to the art. Ignore the rest."

Casey nodded slowly, listening, taking it all in. She looked at her chipped nails in her lap and shut her eyes.

"Do you wanna see my sketches?" Casey asked.

"Absolutely!"

Casey smiled and reached to her backpack, tugging it towards her. It was covered in pins and patches, for alternative bands and various underground horror movies. Casey pulled a large black sketchbook from her bag and handed it to Michelle, who took it and opened it to gruesome drawings of monsters and creatures. She was, disgusted sure, but also impressed. Casey had real talent, especially in terms of design if not handwork. Michelle flipped through it for a bit, and then handed it back to Casey.

"You're exceedingly talented," Michelle said.

"Each monster is designed after a person who hurt me," Casey said as she tried to stuff the book back in her backpack, only for a kids storybook with a golden spine to slide out as well. Michelle reached forward and picked it up, looking at it, before Casey snatched it away. Their eyes locked, as Casey put the book back in her backpack, and Michelle just continued smiling at her.

"I think that's a very therapeutic way to handle it," Michelle said, "What's that book from?"

"...I had a babysitter," Casey said, "she used to read it to me, so now I read it when I get overwhelmed. It helps keep me calm. I have really nasty panic attacks a lot of times, and...and it helps. It helps ground me. I know that's so stupid, so childish, but it works. She was the only good part of my childhood."

"There's nothing stupid about that," Michelle said, "we all cling to what keeps us safe."

Casey nodded, understanding but not agreeing. No matter what nice things Michelle or Bea would ever say to her, she would never believe any of it herself. She knew she was total trash, and would only hurt them somehow. She excused herself, headed to the bathroom in the hall and, after locking herself in a stall, reached into her romper pocket and pulled out a bag of pills. She knelt in front of the toilet, smashed them as best as she could and snorted them, then leaned back on the floor against the stall door and started crying. Beatrice Beagle was a place designed for safety.

And Casey was anything but safe to be around.

                                                                                                        ***

Lexi was standing in the kitchen over the stove, stirring some noodles, reheating Chow Mein they'd ordered in the previous night, when she felt something on her shoulder. She smiled and turned, expecting to see Keagan but instead seeing a puppet face and she screamed, half laughing as she put a hand to her chest while Keagan cracked up and sat down at the kitchen table.

"That was terrifying, my god," Lexi said, "that was the start to about 18 horror movies."

"Isn't Serena great?" Keagan asked, plopping the puppet on her lap as Lexi turned to face her and looked.

"She's beautiful," Lexi said, smiling warmly, "Eliza did a great job. Why the name Serena?"

Keagan sighed and looked at the puppet, stroking its hair as if it were a cat in her lap.

"When I was in middle school," Keagan said, "there was this girl in my math class. She was a math wizard, she always helped me with my homework and stuff, and we weren't really 'friends' but we were friendly to one another. You know, that kind of friendship you can only have while being in school, in its own twisted little ecosystem. Anyway, she was way cool, way smart, real pretty. I kind of had a big crush on her. But then again, I had a crush on a ton of people cause, ya know, hormones. Boys, girls, teachers, didn't matter. Anyway, one day she doesn't come to school, and then for the next few days she doesn't come to school either so I just sorta assume she's sick or something."

"Was she?" Lexi asked, turning back to tend to her noodles in the pan.

"No," Keagan said, "she'd been killed by her dad. He was a nice guy, until he suddenly wasn't. It just came out of nowhere, a complete psychotic snap, and he lost it. From what I heard, when he finally realized what he'd done to her, her sister and her mother, he felt intense remorse, but I guess the weight of life got to him and he cracked. But the damage was done, and they were gone. All except her mom, who had survived and had to learn to live with half a face."

"Jeez," Lexi said, whispering in shock as she turned to look back at Keagan.

"Anyway," Keagan continued, "we used to talk about how there were, like, absolutely no good books or movies for young black girls featuring young black girls. Particularly ones who were smart like us. Sure we always got these ghetto girls, or the ones who were streetsmart, and there's nothing inherently bad about those portrayals exactly, but...but we wanted to see girls who were like us. Good with books. Good with sciences and arts. We never saw those. I figured this would be a nice way to make that happen, while immortalizing her."

Lexi walked up to Keagan as Keagan put Serena down on the table behind her and hugged Lexi around the waist. Lexi gently stroked her hair and held her.

"That's a really beautiful way to ensure horror doesn't define her," Lexi said, and Keagan nodded, crying a little as Lexi added, "and I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

Keagan hadn't thought about Serena in forever, but when she was asked to help create a puppet to represent her ethnicity, that was who she immediately thought of. She just hoped that, wherever it was people wound up when they died, Serena could see what Keagan and Eliza had created, and did like it. There was only so much Keagan could realistically do, but damned if she wasn't going to try her hardest to do it.

                                                                                                      ***

There was a little place near Delores's called Chick's, where they sold hot snacks and desserts and drinks. It was an outdoor eating area, and the only people allowed inside were the people working there. Michelle and Eliza had been coming here about twice a week or so, just to get ice cream cones and then sit together outside and eat and talk, almost as if impromptu dates with simplicity. Licking her plain vanilla cone with cookie bits in it, Eliza looked around at all the other people who were here as Michelle stared dead ahead at her own cone and bit into it.

"Today was weird," Michelle said.

"Every day isn't?" Eliza asked.

"I don't know," Michelle said, "that girl, Casey, I wanna help her but I don't know if she can be helped or would even let me."

"Not every person is your responsibility," Eliza said, "sometimes, um, the best thing you can do is simply be there for them when they finally ask for help."

"And what if it's too late by then?" Michelle asked, and Eliza shrugged, continuing to lick.

"...you don't like her the way you like me, do you?" Eliza asked, before quickly apologizing, "sorry, sorry, that was, ugh...that was so dumb."

"You never have to worry about that," Michelle said, smiling and reaching across the table, touching her cheek, "nobody is ever gonna take your place. You're the only girl I wanna have ice cream dates with."

Eliza blushed, and they both started laughing.

There was a certain sense of finality between them. That this was how it was going to be for the foreseeable future, and that fact alone gave them both a sense of security and safety. That, no matter what else came along, they would always have this. Always have eachother. And in an industry where you were never sure if your show was going to be cancelled the next week or not, that level of continuity was something they needed.

That...and ice cream. Because ice cream fixes everything.
Published on

Lilian was seated at the breakfast table, waiting for Miranda to finish cooking. She sipped from her coffee mug - Maddie was still asleep, but only because she had a full day ahead - until Miranda came and stopped at the table, putting a plate of bacon down before picking one up and biting into it herself. Lilian smiled, took a piece for herself and together they stayed there in silence, eating their respective bacon. Miranda ran her fingers through Lilian's hair and Lilian shut her eyes, enjoying the sensation. These early mornings where they got time to be alone were so special to her, and she wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Miranda sat down while the pancakes behind her bubbled.


"I think the thing I like the most about being in a relationship," Miranda said, "is that it allows me to cook for others more often than I normally would."


"That's certainly a good reason," Lilian replied, nodding.


"That and I've doubled my wardrobe considering we're about the same size," Miranda added, smirking.


"You steal so much of my clothes," Lilian remarked, laughing.


As Miranda and Lillian kissed a little and continued to eat, a knock came at the front door, and both looked in the direction of the door, then at one another. Lilian got up and headed to the door, wiping her hands on her pajama pants. Pulling the door open, however, left her surprised even more, because not only was it unusual to get a visitor at this time in the morning, but that visitor happened to be, of all people, Rina.


"Oh!" Lilian said, happy to see her, "Hey! It's been a while."


"Can I come in?...do I smell breakfast?" Rina asked.


"Well, it is breakfast time," Lilian replied, "but sure, come on in. Is everything okay? Are you here to see Maddie?"


"Actually no, I'm here to see you," Rina said, "...I need a job."


                                                                               ***


Alexis had never gone to a "meeting" before. Least, not for anything outside of work. But especially not one meant to help her with her issues. Standing in the room in the hospital, eating cookies from the snack table, she scanned the room, watching for anything or anyone interesting and, much to her disappointment but not surprisingly, she saw nothing that piqued her interest. It was another hour until they had their lunch break and John would be here with their subs, but until then she would just suck it up. Course, she probably shouldn't fill up on cookies if she was planning on having lunch.


"You like 'em?" a voice standing beside her suddenly asked, spooking her.


"Jesus, don't sneak up on people like that," Alexis said, turning her head to see a man about her age with scruffy brown hair and wearing jeans and a long sleeved baseball tee standing beside her.


"Sorry, didn't mean to give you a heart attack. Just was curious if you liked the cookies. My sister made 'em for me, but I figured I'd share with the group," he said.


"How very kind of you," Alexis said, "yeah, they're good, peanut butter is the best cookie. Tell your sister she's good at baking."


"Oh she knows, she owns a bakery," the man said.


Alexis smirked as she picked up another cookie and bit into it.


"I'm Rick," the man said, "what are you in for?"


"Alexis," Alex replied, "I almost OD'd, but...not on purpose."


"Fair enough," Rick said, "I did the same."


"Yeah?" Alexis asked, now having her attention caught, seeing as this was someone who potentially actually understood her ordeals.


"Yeah," Rick said, "yeah, uh, I was using and I...I just was sloppy. My sister found me using and having a seizure, and took me to the hospital and then said if she paid for it, I could come here to try and get better, so here I am. Been here...oof...6 months now? 7? It's hard. Especially because, personally, I don't have any interest in being sober."


"Why's that?" Alex asked.


"Cause why should I? The world is shit enough without having to be sober in it," Rick said, shrugging and Alex nodded. She understood that...and that scared her. She didn't want to let John down, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the feeling. Miss the idea of just letting herself go and forget about all her problems for a little bit. Now, instead, she lived with her issues every single day and that was far more painful.


"Well," Alexis said, "at least we have cookies."


"Yeah, I'll tell my sister we'll just OD on cookies now," Rick said, the both of them chuckling. For the first time since being in the hospital, Alexis was finally starting to feel like maybe it wasn't so hopeless and empty after all. Maybe there was something special to be found here.


                                                                                ***


"You scared?" Miranda asked as she parked the car and Maddie exhaled, nodding a little; Miranda smiled softly and kissed the side of Maddie's head, adding, "hey, if it gets to be too much, you can just come right back out here and we'll go get something for lunch, okay? You don't have to stay here. You're doing her a favor, don't forget that, you're the one with power in this situation, alright?"


"Thanks," Maddie said, also smiling now, appreciative of Miranda's comfort and advice. She opened the door and climbed out of the car, heading towards the prison. Miranda watched as she approached the doors, spoke with a guard, only to be turned away. Maddie came back to the car, as Miranda rolled down her window and Maddie said, "they won't let me in without an adult."


"Well we should probably go find one then," Miranda said, the both of them laughing as she climbed out of the car and took Maddie's hand, the both of them heading back to the prison doors, only to be let in this time. Once inside, they immediately felt uncomfortable. It was a perfect temperature inside the building, and the facility was clean as clean could be, but just knowing people were living their entire lives here...it unnerved them both. Miranda had only been to a prison once, to see an uncle for Christmas one year, and after that she refused to ever go back. But she couldn't let Maddie go through with this alone.


After a bit of walk, they finally reached the visitation spaces. Miranda seated herself on a small couch a ways away to give Maddie privacy, and Maddie sat down on one side of the glass that separated herself from her mother. Jessie smiled seeing her daughter, but Maddie didn't smile back.


"You look good," Jessie said, "I'm so glad we finally get to see eachother."


"...I only came cause I wanted to tell you something I didn't get to the night they arrested you," Maddie said, and Jessie's eyebrows raised and in suspense. Maddie cleared her throat and exhaled, as she added, "you deserved this. You're a bad person."


"There's a lot you don't know about," Jessie said, "about marriage in particular, and...and how difficult it is to get out of marriage in a way that benefits you. Men have all the power, I would've lost-"


"Shut up mom," Maddie said, surprising not only herself but also Miranda and Jessie as she continued with, "nothing is worth killing someone for, unless maybe they're trying to kill you first. You hurt dad so bad he's still trying to recover. You ruined my whole childhood. I am so mad at myself that I believed you for so long and let you continue to hurt dad and-"


"I actually needed to speak to you because I need you to ask your father to come see me," Jessie said, interrupting, "there's things he and I have to discuss, and I know he won't come if I just ask, but he will if you do."


"So even now you're just using me? You didn't care to see me at all?" Maddie asked, on the verge of tears, "...you're a bad mom."


Jessie sighed and nodded. She knew she was a bad mom. Truth be told, she'd never wanted to be a mom in the first place, but she'd never tell Maddie that at least. She looked down at her hands before looking back up at Maddie and their eyes locked.


"I'm sorry," Jessie whispered and Maddie shook her head in disgust.


"I'll ask dad to come," she said, "but I never want to speak to you again. This is where you belong. Where you can't hurt anyone else while pretending to love them."


With that, Maddie pulled away from the glass pane and stood back up, heading back to Miranda. Jessie watched as this unknown woman took her daughter by the hand and walked out of the prison with her. And the worst part was...she couldn't even defend or justify her actions reliably, nor defend the truths her own daughter has just dropped on her. She was, in fact, a bad mom. A bad person. She did deserve to be in here. But if only Maddie knew. If only Maddie knew the truth. Would it help? Probably not. But context is important.


                                                                             ***


Lilian and Rina were seated in the living room, eating from a big bowl of chips as Lilian, pad in hand, asked Rina questions. Rina posted her legs up on the coffee table and sighed, shrugging as Lilian asked again.


"You really don't have any affinity towards any particular caricature?" she asked, and Rina shook her head.


"Not really," she said, "I mean, what've you got already? A clown, a princess, a pirate, a mermaid and a cowboy? What mythological figure is left?"


"Okay first of all, cowboys aren't mythological figures," Lilian said, the both of them laughing as she continued, saying, "and second, more importantly, it doesn't have to be something amazing or unique. Hell, I'm a princess. I'm the most cliche choice imaginable! You never had a, like, fairytale character that you identified with?"


Rina thought, chewing on her lip. When she was a little girl, she had read a TON, and a lot of those stories were, admittedly, fantasy based. Yet, she felt weird choosing something like an elf, that just seemed so boring and ordinary and overdone. Then, Rina sat upright and grinned wide as she looked at Lilian, who cocked her head in suspense, waiting to see what Rina had thought of.


"A witch," Rina said, and Lilian raised an eyebrow.


"Really?" she asked, "a witch? Well, that's definitely not one we have yet, that's for sure. We actually don't have any kind of horror based characters, so you're in uncharted territory with this one. That's pretty cool."


"You don't think it'd scare kids?" Rina asked.


"Nah, adults forget that, as kids, we loved being scared. Spooky shit was taboo and a lot of fun," Lilian said, "obviously I can't speak for all kids, some are just out and out scaredy cats, but whatever. You'll find an audience. Now, you'll need a costume, so we can go to the nice costume place downtown in the next few days and I'll call Vera about getting you on payroll."


Lilian finally put the pad and pen down and looked at Rina.


"What made you wanna do this?" Lilian asked, "I'm just curious."


"...well...it all comes down to the fact that I need extra money, and I already know you guys. But...I don't know, I've just been trying desperately, and failing, at finding something to do that isn't just babysitting. This seems like a cooler form of babysitting. Plus you all seem like really good friends, and...I could use some friends, frankly," Rina said, looking down at her hands in her lap, admiring her nails.


"Hey, whatever the reason is, we can make it work," Lilian replied, "everyone is welcome here. That's obvious."


Rina and Lilian looked at one another and smiled. They'd only met a handful of times, admittedly, but they'd always gotten along, and it seemed now like Rina was reaching out for companionship, and Lilian was more than in a stable place to provide it for her. Hell, Maddie was already entrenched in her life, why not her former babysitter as well? For the next little bit, Rina and Lilian went over potential costume ideas, ranging from classic Halloween art witches to gothic witches to stereotypical green witches to anything and everything they could think of, all the while laughing and having a good time.


The irony of Rina's choice couldn't be dismissed, however.


In far too many fairytales that Lilian had read growing up, witches were the ones more often than not to curse princesses in one form or another. So the fact that a witch and a princess would be willingly working together, being close friends, it was sort of beautiful to break that preconceived notion of what two fictional archetypes might usually be like when paired up. And if Lilian was all about anything these days, it was about breaking through societies perceived barriers of identity.


                                                                            ***


Alexis and Rick were walking through the garden, heading to the cafeteria after the meeting. Alexis hated how much she already enjoyed his company, because she hated admitting to herself that she enjoyed anyones company outside of Lilian and John, but Rick had a self assured sense of sureness about himself that she couldn't help but find admirable, especially because she herself felt so uncertain about who she was most of the time.


"I worked with her for a little while, at the bakery," Rick said, "but eventually the load became too much to handle and, if we're being honest, I'm not a baker by any means. I can't do math to save my life, and baking is all about measurements."


"Then what do you do if you don't bake for a living?" Alex asked.


"I'm a magician," Rick said, "for parties and stuff, nothing serious. But it's enjoyable, and I'm good at it and I make good money."


"That's so cool," Alex replied, "I always liked magic."


As she looked away momentarily, thinking she'd spotted John, Rick pulled a handful of flowers off a nearby bush and presented them to her, which made her laugh.


"You didn't make those spontaneously appear," she said, "you just stole them."


"And you say that like crime isn't magical," Rick replied, the both of them laughing as he handed them to her, and she graciously accepted, smelling them. That was the moment it hit her. She'd never once smelt a flower, let alone a flower given to her by someone...let alone been given flowers by someone. No, she knew what this feeling was, and that scared her. But she'd always had a type, and Rick definitely fit that. She blushed a little and looked away, which made him laugh all the more.


"Are you just gonna go back to magic once you're out of here?" Alexis asked as they continued walking and he shrugged.


"Eh, probably, but like I said, it's not really my lifelong career. Not sure what it is I'd like to really do, but magic ain't it," Rick said, "though it does make me pretty popular with the ladies."


"Wow, a magician who knows women? You're a real rarity in your field," Alexis remarked, making him smirk.


"Well, I know you don't I? And look at how well we've gotten along just in the short time we've been talking. You could almost say I've made your insecurities..." Rick said, waving his hands in front of her, "...disappear."


"Wow, you're a DORK," Alexis said, the both of them cackling. Rick's watched suddenly beeped, and he sighed.


"I gotta go, I have a one on one therapy appointment, but if you're not busy later, and let's face it who in rehab is, come seek me out, I'll teach you some card tricks," Rick said, and Alexis nodded meekly. As she watched him walk off, she hated herself for acting so stereotypically girly. She'd never been like this before, not even with other guys she'd liked, but here she was, playing the role of the weak willed femme easily wiled by a handsome mans hand tricks. She heard footsteps approach and the sound of a paper bag rustling, and turned to see John coming up to her.


"Where'd you get flowers from?" John asked.


"From over there," she said, pointing back to where Rick had taken them.


"I brought lunch," John said, holding up the bag.


"Thank god, all I've eaten were cookies," Alex said as they started to head in the direction of the cafeteria again.


"God, you're like a child," John replied.


                                                                              ***


Maddie's father Brian was laying in his bed, reading a book. His home hospice nurse opened the door, came in, set down a tray with some snacks and water and then left as the phone began to ring. He picked up the glass and took a long sip before noticing she was returning, handing the phone to him. He furrowed his brow, confused as to who would be calling him. It wasn't like his married life had allowed him any friends. He took the phone and put it to his face, speaking weakly.


"Hello?"


"Daddy, it's me," Maddie said, and his face lit up.


"Hi sweetheart! How are you?" he asked.


"I'm...okay," Maddie said, "um...mommy wants you to meet with her."


And whatever joy he'd just been given he lost just as quickly.

Published on
Michelle was in the car, waiting for Eliza. Eliza was still in her bedroom, getting a few things for the little road trip they were about to embark on, and Michelle didn't mind waiting one bit. She tuned the radio, playing around ping ponging from station to station until she landed on a station of nothing but classical music, and she liked that. Nice background noise. Finally the door opened, and Michelle glanced up, spying Eliza hugging her father before heading out, little backpack in hand. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, as Michelle started the car and then leaned towards her, putting her hands on Eliza's face and kissing her, making her laugh.

"Good morning," Michelle said, and Eliza giggled more.

"Good morning!" she chirped back happily, "You're in a happy mood."

"I am in a mood, certainly," Michelle said, as she started to back out of the driveway and head down the street, "whether it's happy remains to be seen depending on how the day unfolds. We need to stop at the studio real quick though, I need to pick something up."

"Okie dokie," Eliza replied, putting one wireless earphone on and listening to her own music to keep calm. Even with Michelle, someone who clearly adored her, she needed to be calm. The companionship was nice, but Eliza constantly had bad thoughts running through her head, and she needed to distract herself no matter what, in whatever way she could. The drive to the studio was short and silent, and when they arrived, Michelle only needed to run inside because she was getting the address from her office, which she'd written down and then forgot there. As she was exiting, she bumped into Bea, and a woman standing beside her.

"Oh, hi!" Michelle said, "I didn't know you'd be here on an off day."

"I won't be," Beatrice replied, "I'm having a meeting, but I need you to do something for me."

"Well, I...I'm having a meeting too, so I can't exactly-"

"Just take Casey with you," Bea said, gesturing to the girl standing beside her, "Casey this is Michelle, Michelle this is Casey. Casey's going to be working here but until we can reconvene later today she doesn't have anything to do and anywhere to go, so I need her to tag along with you, yeah?"

Michelle sighed and nodded, feeling a bit worn down, but willing to do what Bea asked. Bea hugged her, thanked her, and then looked at her watch, as if she were waiting for someone. Michelle and Casey walked back to the car and Casey climbed into the back as Michelle seated herself behind the wheel once more. Eliza pulled one earphone off and looked back at Casey, who smiled politely.

"...are we dealing in human trafficking now?" she asked, and Michelle laughed as she pulled out and headed back down the road. Meanwhile, Bea stood outside the studio, smoking, tapping her foot. Today was always hard. Maybe this year, though, it'd be easier. Finally Liam's car pulled up and she stubbed out her cigarette and climbed into the passenger seat, oohing as she sat.

"Wow, seat warmers," she said, "how fancy."

"Look you can't be dismissive and appreciative at the same time," Liam replied.

"Oh, to the contrary, watch me," Bea remarked, making him smirk as they, too, pulled away.

                                                                                                          ***

Justine was sitting in home office, sipping coffee, staring at her fishtank. The bubbles were hynoptic, and the sound of the water moving ever so slightly, circulating round the tank, brought her an odd sense of calm. She leaned back in her chair and then looked down at her drafting table, where she was currently doing watercolor pages for an upcoming childrens book about a swan. She sighed, took another sip of coffee, and then finally stood up.

She placed the mug on the small table beside the drafting desk and grabbed the container of fish flakes, shaking it over the aquarium top so they could feed. As she knelt down and smiled, watching them eat, all she could think about was the crash. How she'd only survived really because the plane had landed in water, and because it had landed tail first, meaning the cabin was pointed up (and the fact that it was a two person biplane), she had plenty of time to scramble out of it and swim to shore with the last of her strength before collapsing.

How she managed to do that, especially with her legs as damaged as they were, always remained a mystery, but she was grateful for being alive. Especially in times like this, where she could sit and do the kind of work she loved, watching animals she liked, yes, she really understood the appreciation of life itself now. She sat back down and turned her attention back to her work. A story about a swan. Somehow she was always dragged back to the water.

                                                                                                           ***

"So where are we going?" Casey asked, leaning up between the front seats.

"I'm going to meet a woman that's the daughter of my social worker," Michelle said.

"Is she really even your social worker anymore?" Eliza asked, "I mean...you have a job, you live with her, isn't she just kind of your friend now?"

Michelle hadn't even considered this somehow. After all the years of knowing Delores, it was a bit hard to not think of her as being her social worker. Maybe Eliza was right. Maybe it was time to stop thinking of her as her social worker, and instead just think of her as her friend. Hell, she'd been more of a mother to her than her own mother had been, just in the short time she'd lived with her. They came to a red light and Casey opened up some gum and popped it in her mouth, chewing.

"...are you scared?" Eliza asked.

"I'm...anxious," Michelle responded, "I'm anxious. Not scared. I just worry that she's going to be mad at me for lying, for convincing her to meet with me, because what if she wants nothing to do with Delores? I mean, the fact that they've not spoken in so long kind of insinuates that she wants nothing to do with her."

"But you're curious why, right?" Eliza asked, and Michelle nodded as the light changed to green and she kept driving.

"Extremely," she replied, "I just feel like...for all Delores has done for me, I have to do something in return."

"That's what makes you a good person," Eliza said, smiling, as she put her hand on Michelle's thigh. Regardless of how things spun out today, Michelle was happy to have Eliza by her side. Never before in her life had she had a relationship, and she certainly hadn't expected her first one to really be as strong and honest and supportive as it was. Though...she was a bit annoyed at Beatrice dumping Casey on her.

"Does anyone want gum?" Casey asked.

"What kind? It smells like cinnamon," Eliza said.

"You have a good nose," Casey remarked, and handed her a piece, making Eliza excited, which made Michelle smile.

Maybe Casey's presence wouldn't be so detrimental after all.

                                                                                                         ***

"Been a while since we've been to a really nice place like this," Liam said, he and Bea seated in a lovely dimly lit steakhouse in a booth. Beatrice was looking through the menu while Liam picked up his water glass and took a long sip. He finally sighed and looked at her, then asked, "do you wanna talk about it?"

"We don't do enough together," Bea said flatly, "for all the history we have, and the relationship we've got, we don't do enough together."

"I mean, I agree, and I'd like to do more like this," Liam said, "doesn't have to be a strictly yearly thing."

"It does, actually, because if it were more often, I'd have to think about it more," Beatrice said, "I don't mind being your friend, I don't mind having you in my life, I don't mind working with you, but to have anything more social outside of that, it...it takes me back to all that. Back to that...that moment. I found her file."

Liam's eyes widened a bit and he leaned back in his side of the booth, folding his arms after adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," Bea replied, "it was just in my closet with some other things. A whole life boiled down to just a few scraps of paper and a photo. Seems weird, right? Like there should be more. But that's all we get in the end, in this situation. I wanted to cry, but I just...I labeled it, hid it and went back to my day."

A moment passed as a waitress took an order from a nearby booth, then passed them.

"Do you ever think about it?" Bea asked quietly, looking down at her lap.

"...sometimes," Liam said softly, "but...and I say this with no judgement in regards to your own way of processing things...I can't let myself regret it. If I start down that path, then I'll start opening up every decision I ever made in my life and how I, in turn, made the wrong one. I just can't do that. What's done is done. It's over."

Bea nodded as a waitress finally came to their table and Liam ordered for the both of them. Sitting there, watching him, Beatrice couldn't help but feel like maybe he was right. For so long she'd mourned their life in show business, and all the things that that entailed, Claire included, but Claire was gone. There was nothing they could do to change that, so why dwell on it, especially twenty something years later? Just enjoy the now. Maybe Liam was right about them meeting more often. An anniversary just drags you back to that moment, why not create new reasons to be sociable together? She picked up her water glass and took a long drink.

"So I see you hired that girl from the pizzeria," Liam said and Bea nodded.

"Indeed," she replied, "I intend to take every broken young lady that I find under my wing."

"...is that because you couldn't keep Claire around?" Liam asked, and Bea looked at him, blinking.

She'd never even considered that, in all honesty, but he was probably right. It was probably related to that loss. Loss, after all, makes you do wacky things. But instead of recognizing that openly, and discussing it with the only person who could understand her reasoning for having been there the moment it happened, instead she just shrugged and waited for her appetizer. She hadn't had cheese sticks in a while.

                                                                                                            ***

Michelle, Eliza and Casey were all standing on the large roofed porch of Justine's home, waiting anxiously. Michelle wanted to knock, but she was scared to do so, even with the cover story she'd given for her reason for showing up. She knew that the instant that cover story fell away, and Delores was brought up, that things would change drastically. Eliza held her hand, and Michelle felt her nerves melt a bit, so she nodded, shut her eyes for a moment and knocked on the door. After a few moments, it finally opened, and Justine peeked out.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi," Michelle said, smiling brightly, "My name is Michelle, I called about meeting you for a job."

"Right! Come in, please," Justine said, moving aside and allowing the girls entrance. As all three passed her, she shut the door and, half chuckling, added, "I didn't realize you were going to bring an entire committee. Please, have a seat. I have some tea, if anyone is thirsty."

"Tea would be nice, thank you," Eliza said, and so Justine headed to the kitchen to get some while the girls sat down. Michelle couldn't deny...this wasn't what she was expecting. This house was so...normal. She'd expected someone who'd survived a plane crash to be exciting and adventurous, not recede further into general blandness. But it did. It reeked of the mundane. Lots of seafaring art hanging from the walls - ranging from metal crab sculptures to paintings of seagulls resting on ship sails - and the most boring rugs one could conjure up in their minds. This was the daughter of Delores? Really? The two didn't seem similar at all. Justine finally returned with multiple cups on a tray and set the tray on the coffee table between them, along with a plate of cookies.

"You sure know how to entertain guests," Casey said, picking up her mug of tea and, after nesting it between her thighs momentarily, reached into her coat and pulled out a flask. She unscrewed it, poured some into the tea and then started to drink.

"You can drink on the job?" Justine asked.

"Can I? Probably not. Will I? Definitely," Casey remarked.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," Eliza said politely, and Michelle felt humbled by having such a nice girlfriend.

"So what is this book about?" Justine asked, "I always like to get to know the ins and outs of what it is I'm potentially doing artwork for before actually committing to it, if you understand. It helps me paint, not to be cute, a broader picture, a more wide scope, of what it is I'm getting involved in."

"Actually, that's the thing," Michelle said, "um...we're not...we're not really with a publishing house. I lied. My name is Michelle, yes, but...but I work for a streaming network that produces mainly childrens content, and...and I was hoping you'd like to talk about the fact that I've been living with your mother now for months. I had major surgery a while back, and your mother took me in to help give me a safe place to heal and recoup, and escape my own mother who's a vile disgusting person, and once she told me she had a daughter, I just...I became curious about why you two never spoke. She told me about the accident, and-"

"Why wouldn't she, she tells everyone," Justine said, interrupting, catching Michelle off guard; she sipped her tea and added, "it's her own personal sob story she can relay around to those who might give her sympathy. I didn't even WANT to visit for that holiday, but she insisted, as she does, and so her insistance put me on that plane, and put me on the brink of death."

"Hardcore," Casey said.

"So forgive me if I'm not immediately interested in rekindling a relationship that burned out ages ago," Justine concluded.

"Listen, I know what it's like to hate your mom, I do," Michelle said, "my mother blamed me for all my health problems, told me constantly that my medical debt kept her from truly pursuing a life in the arts. I get it. I really, really get it. And I know that simply being a house guest as opposed to actually being related isn't the same, and obviously you know Delores far better than I do, but...but I think that absence has done her good. She seems...humble. I walked into the kitchen the other night and she was crying, looking at a photo album. She isn't interested in reconciling for the sake of saving face. She genuinely misses you."

Justine chewed her lip and thought about this. After a moment, she shook her head.

"Yeah, well," she said, taking a cookie from the plate, "either way she's sending lackies out to do her work, when I won't answer her calls, so-"

"She didn't send anyone," Michelle said, "she doesn't know I'm here."

That, she had to admit, threw her for a loop. Justine hadn't been expecting that one. She put her mug down on the table and looked at Michelle with earnest eyes, her hands now cupped in her lap.

"So you just...took it upon yourself to find me of your own volition?" Justine asked.

"I have an abusive mother, Eliza's mother died in an accident, and..." Michelle glanced at Casey, who just looked away; Michelle shrugged and continued, "I just...I feel like we can relate and-"

"My mother," Casey said, interrupting, clearing her throat, "she...she used to sell me to her male friends when I was growing up. We were poor, and we didn't have a whole lot of money so my mother used to sell me to men for their...interests in me. So, I think, if anyone has any reason to hate their mother here, it's me. I'm curious to know what made you so angry at your mother, because more often than not, it's small and irrelevent. Angry words said at inopportune times, often in the heat of the moment and not said with sincerity. You don't hate your mother. You hate the moment. And it's hard to separate the moment from the mother, and look past that. But I guarantee my mother doesn't look at photo albums of me and cry. If anything, she's just mad she can't use me to make her money anymore."

The room filled with an uncomfortable quiet, and Michelle felt her eyes wet with tears, but she didn't want to cry. Eliza sniffled and wiped her nose on her sweater sleeve, and then they all heard Justine start to cry. Justine stood up, walked around the coffee table and pulled Casey's head against her, holding her, petting her.

"I'm so sorry," Justine said through tears, "that's so sick. You shouldn't...fuck....you're right and I'm so sorry."

And after that, everything was smooth sailing. Fittingly so, considering all the seafaring related stuff in the house.

                                                                                                             ***

Bea and Liam, after lunch, now found themselves sitting at the bar of the steakhouse, sipping on their respective alcoholic beverages but not saying a word. Liam continued deshelling pistachios and eating them as they sat and in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Seemed that not having to interact with one another much recently had killed their ability to hold a conversation, but there was something Bea did want to ask...though she was scared of how Liam would react.

"...could we have made it work?" Bea asked, and Liam glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as she continued to elaborate on her vagueness, adding, "like, realistically, do you think we could've made it work?"

"Who knows," Liam said, "I'd like to have the confidence to say yes, but realistically speaking...I don't know. I think there would've been issues standing in the way of accomplishing that. I like to think that Claire would be proud of what we've managed to accomplish though, coming from that situation and feeling so hopeless and helpless."

Beatrice nodded, sniffling, looking at her drink.

"I think I need to be on anti-depressants," she said quietly, and Liam smiled.

"Yeah?"

"I worry far too much, think far too much," Bea said, "it isn't healthy to be this sad all the time. I need to do something about it before it truly incapacitates me in some manner or another. I need to start taking responsibility for my health."

"I'm proud of you for that acknowledgment," Liam said, patting her on the back.

"Here's to the 24th anniversary," Bea said, "wish she could be here."

"Here here," Liam replied, both raising their glasses and clinking them before drinking.

                                                                                                           ***

After getting back to the studio, Eliza headed to The Hole to work more on Keagan's puppet, while Michelle stayed in the props department with Casey - keeping her busy until Bea returned like she'd promised to - while they worked on building new pieces for upcoming episodes. Casey stopped painting for a moment and looked at Michelle, who looked up at her from her knelt position.

"Everything okay?" Michelle asked, "that was...some heavy stuff."

"I just figured it was a good way to shift perspective," Casey said, "not to disparage anything she went through, because, hell, surviving a plane crash regardless of her relaitonship with her mother is rough enough to live with. But I just figured maybe she should see what a truly despicable parent is like."

"I'm really sorry that happened to you, for what it's worth," Michelle said.

"It's just life," Casey said, shrugging, "it happened. Nothing I can do about it. And I'm sure I deserved it for some reason."

Michelle shook her head as she dragged her paint brush down the fence post, wishing she knew what to say. She'd never once dealt with someone with a history of CSA. Still, she felt like maybe just giving Casey a safe space to work in and feel comfortable in was help enough.

"Are you and that girl Eliza a couple?" Casey asked, and Michelle nodded, smiling.

"Yes we are," she said, "we're looking to adopt a dog."

"That's really cute," Casey remarked, putting down her paintbrush into a nearby can of thinner, "does a broken heart good to be around so much love."

Michelle smiled more. She was right. It WAS good for a broken heart to be around so much love. That was the one thing Bea had given them all over their time together, and would now give to Casey, and all of them had healed and grown so much from that simple act of kindness. And the saddest part was that, even if Bea recognized this - which she did - she would never be able to grant herself a job well done for it, all because she hadn't been able to give Claire that very same thing.

Bea never showed back up at the studio that night, instead opting to go home and be with Leslie for the evening. But she called, she left a message about what Casey could get to work on in her absence, and that they'd find something more permanent at a later date. This anniversary with Liam always messed her up, always made her aware of her failings instead of her success, and maybe he was right to suggest finally putting it to bed. And yet...and yet she couldn't even entertain that idea, because the anniversary was all that they had left of Claire. They'd already lost her. They couldn't lose that too.

Yes. One day she would have to face down the past with Claire head on. But today was not that day.

Maybe next year.
Published on

Miranda and Lilian hadn't had a proper date night in ages, it felt like, and she was excited to do just that. Standing in front of the vanity mirror of their bedroom, Miranda finished applying her eye makeup before turning her attention to her lipstick, and then began brushing her hair. Lilian got out from the bathroom in the hall and entered the bedroom, leaning down behind Miranda and pressing her lips against her neck and making her blush and laugh. Lilian then went to get dressed herself, as Miranda finished up. They had called Vera and asked if she wouldn't mind babysitting, and she said she'd be more than happy to, so Maddie was packing an overnight bag in her bedroom as the girls prepared for their night out.


Before they knew it, they were already at Vera's. Miranda waited in the car, while Lilian took Maddie inside and up to Vera's comfortable loft apartment. However, when the door was opened, she was surprised to, instead of Vera, find Tyler there. He smiled at them and invited them in, which they graciously accepted.


"Didn't know you were gonna be here," Lilian said.


"Almost always am these days. Getting to the point where I'm wondering why I'm even renting my own place anymore," Tyler said, heading back into the kitchen as Vera came out from the hallway and smiled.


"Hi guys!" she said cheerfully.


This was the happiest Lilian had seen Vera in....months? Years? Hell, it was hard to know. Ever since taking over the company it seemed like Vera's attitude had taken a perpetual plunge into uncertainty most days. But regardless, it was nice seeing her smiling again. Maddie approached Vera, putting her overnight bag down and hugging her, Vera patting her back.


"Thanks so much for doing this," Lilian said.


"John not available?" Vera asked.


"Actually he was who I called first," Lilian said, "but no, he said he already had plans. Anyway we both really appreciate it. I'll be by sometime in the early afternoon to pick her up."


"Take your time," Vera said, as Maddie headed into the kitchen to see what Tyler was doing; Vera approached Lilian and lowered her voice, taking Lilian a bit away from the living room area and said, "actually, I'm glad we were the ones able to do this, because...well..."


Vera glanced back at Tyler and sighed.


"...we've talked about having a family," Vera said.


"You're not even married," Lilian replied.


"Gee, look at Miss Tradition over here," Vera remarked, making Lilian laugh as she continued, adding, "no, we know that and we don't have real interest in getting married honestly. It's just...it's not for us. But we have talked at length about having a family, and this will be a good instance for us to see how we'd handle that sort of lifestyle."


"Well then, I'm glad to be of service," Lilian said, before giving Vera a little hug and saying goodbye to all three before heading back to the car. As she climbed in and shut the door, she suddenly felt Miranda grabbing her and turning her to face her, pressing her lips against Lilians, making Lilian laugh as they kissed. This was going to be a good night for a change, which was something they all really needed.


                                                                           ***


John, as it turned out, actually did had plans. That wasn't just an excuse.


A few times a month, he was able to take Star to his place for a few days for some private bonding time, and the date that night just so happened to coincide with that current visit. At that moment, John was preparing dinner as Star sat on the floor, cross legged, watching a TV show clearly aimed at preschoolers. As he heard her laugh joyfully, he looked up and smiled. He was just happy to have her in his presence, even if she wasn't on the same intellectual level as he was. He didn't care. Star was his daughter, and he loved her to hell and back. A knock came at the door, and for a brief moment, he considered the fact that it might be someone from the trailer park looking to converse, but upon pulling the door open, instead he was greeted by another face on the opposite side of the screen. Geena, Alexis's sister.


"Oh," he said, "hey, hi, uh...do you...do you wanna come in, or?"


"No, that's okay, if you have company," Geena said, waving her hand.


"It's just my daughter, please, come in, she's watching TV, she won't bother us," John said, stepping aside as Geena pulled the screen door towards her, smiling and heading into the trailer. She saw immediately the grown woman John had referred to as his daughter, and got curious, but figured she'd better save her inquisition for later on. She followed him back to the kitchen area.


"What are you making?"


"I am cooking steaks," John said, "what are you even doin' here? How'd you even find me?"


"Yeah, no, that's a fair question," Geena said, chuckling, "um, it's because the hospital has you listed as Alexis's primary caregiver. That includes your address."


"And they just give that information out to people?" John asked, sounding incredulous, "that's absurd."


"Well, you know, I'm actually her sister, so," Geena replied, "anyway I'm not mad, I just wanted to talk to you about her."


"Is everything okay?" John asked as he flipped the steaks over in the pan and looked at Geena.


"Well, I just...I guess I don't understand, and I'd like to understand," Geena said, "and please don't take this as me not being appreciative of what you've done, and been doing, because I really genuinely am, as I'm sure she is as well, but I guess I just need clarification and context and...some other synonym that starts with a C. Because, near as I can figure, you're taking care of her for the sake of taking care of her and that...that's just....decency I'm unfamiliar with."


At this John finally cracked up, which made Geena feel embarrassed. He put his utensils on the counter and approached her.


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't mean to, uh, make fun of you or anything, that really isn't my intent," he said, "please um, you're just so forward. No, you're not wrong, I am just doing it because it's the right thing to do. My family was torn apart by addiction, and so I...I know what it's like to come out the other side of that. After hearing about her own adolescence, I guess it's just hard for me to reconcile with the fact that your parents just don't give a shit about her."


"To be fair, they don't really give a shit about anybody," Geena said, "they're pretty self absorbed."


"Right," John replied, nodding, leaning on the countertop across from Geena, scratching the back of his head and adding, "and I don't think that's okay. I think...I think everyone needs a parental figure in their life, of one variety or another. Found family, blood family, whatever it is...you need that. Mentor. Etc. The world shouldn't feel so small and scary to people trying to navigate it for the first time, regardless of age. So I took it upon myself to be that for your sister, partially because I've been where she's been on both ends. I had addictions, and I lost people to addictions. It's...it's just the right thing to do. Do you want a steak?"


Geena smiled, and nodded slowly. Why not have a little dinner? She'd made the trip here.


                                                                          ***


Bernard's, a lovely bistro in the heart of downtown, was where Lilian had set her eyes for their date that night, and it was easy for Miranda to understand why once they were there. The place was quiet, with dim lighting and soft music. The exact kind of place one would expect a romantic evening to unfurl. Sitting at their table, looking around at the paintings and photos on the surrounding walls, Miranda couldn't help but feel like a very lucky lady.


"It's weird when they name a restaurant after a person," Lilian finally said, interrupting Miranda's thought process, and making her chuckle as well.


"It is, I agree," Miranda replied, "like, is Bernard cooking the food, or are we eating Bernard? Which one is it?"


"I bet Bernard is chewy," Lilian said, "though, perhaps dinner isn't the best place to discuss the ins and outs of a topic such as cannibalism."


"When would be?" Miranda remarked, the both of them laughing.


"You look beautiful," Lilian said, taking Miranda by surprise, making her blush; Lilian continued, "like, I don't think I compliment you often enough, and I feel like I should do it more, because you really do look beautiful. I know it's a lot of effort, moreso in your case obviously, but...it's paid off. You've changed so much since we met, and...and I just...you're beautiful."


Miranda blushed deeper, averting her eyes, feeling like she was going to start crying if she continued to look at Lilian's face. Lilian reached across the table and touched her face gently with her knuckles, making Miranda sniffle.


"This used to be my fantasy, you know?" Miranda said quietly, almost a whisper, "like...how boring, right? Just being a girl, being out with a girl, being in love with said girl as a girl. It's...sad, really. To have such mundane fantasies. But I used to just lay in bed after lights out as a kid and think about this sort of thing. I didn't even want the exciting romantic stuff, like, where you come to terms with your feelings for one another or maybe a love triangle, no I just...I just wanted the already committed relationship."


"Well then," Lilian said, "I'm glad I can give that to you. Everyone deserves to have at least one dream come true."


Lilian then leaned forward and pressed her lips against Miranda's, and after the kiss ended, both felt giddy. Each, for whatever varying reasons, had never really had much lucky with romance, so it was nice to find that comfort with one another. They just needed to make sure they had more regularly scheduled date nights from now on. Much as each enjoyed playing parenthood, it was important for them to have nights to themselves as well.


Which was funny, because that was the exact opposite thing Vera was discovering that night.


                                                                               ***


Vera and Maddie were seated at the kitchen table, as Tyler finished cooking and set their plates in front of them before going back for his own. Maddie picked up her fork and dug in, as Vera started pouring herself a glass of wine. As she did, she watched Maddie, looking to see if she could spot any kind of uncomfort or anything in her. After a few minutes, Tyler finally returned to the table and sat down as well.


"Do you think you could teach me how to cook?" Maddie asked, looking at Tyler.


"Yeah! For sure," Tyler replied, "absolutely, if you wanna come on over like once a week for lessons, I'd be more than happy to help you with that!"


"Does Lilian not cook?" Vera asked, taking a sip from her wine glass.


"Eh, Miranda does, but I don't think she's as good at it as you are," Maddie said, and Tyler laughed.


"Well thank you, I appreciate that," Tyler said, "and my mother told me home ec wasn't for boys, take that mom."


All three of them laughed, as they continued to eat in silence. It was weird, for as much as Maddie loved Lilian and Miranda, and wouldn't change anything about her life right now, this was the sort of thing they didn't do. Dinner was often a solitary experience in that household, and she missed having dinner with people. Then again, it wasn't like her own parents had ever done it either, not in this sense. They'd done it, but it was always awkward and stiff and uncomfortable. This...this felt natural. This was the sort of family dinner Maddie had always wished she could have.


And Vera? Vera was so happy. All she wanted anymore was a family. She was so sick of leading the company, and the bullshit that that entailed, and all she really wanted was to raise a family and be with Tyler. So cliche, she knew. She felt kind of like a sellout of her gender for her generation, wanting something so traditional, but Tyler had reassured her numerous times that it was okay that she wanted that. She wasn't by any means expected to live by the same morals or ethics others her age demanded she live by. She wanted to be a mom, and she was sick of hiding that and feeling ashamed of it. And all Tyler really wanted was much the same, but to see Vera be happy in the process.


While Vera and Tyler discussed things regarding the company, and then a bit about the apartment - whether Tyler should move in or they should get a new place all their own - Maddie just ate in silence and watched, listening, smiling. It was nice to be around adults for a change and not be expected to be one as well. Bit by bit, she was eeking back her adolescence.


                                                                            ***


"Oh, thank you," Geena said as John handed her a drink as they sat outside in lawn chairs, watching Star catch fireflies in the early evening sunset.


"You told me Alexis almost drowned when you were kids, you remember that? Told me that that day in the hospital when we met," John said, sitting down and sipping his own drink before adding, "you told me that you watched a teenage lifeguard give her mouth to mouth, bring her in from the waves and save her life."


"Mhm," Geena replied, nodding as she sipped her own drink, "yep, and that was a very formative thing for both of us."


"So why do you care about her when it seems the rest of your family doesn't? Trying to earn some brownie points with the big man upstairs or just trying to make yourself look better or trying to maybe gain a sense of moral superiority or what? None of these are what I think of you, for the record, they're just reasons people do these kinds of things more often than not. I'm just curious where your thoughts lie."


Geena smirked. She liked John's sense of earnest bluntness.


"Well," she said, clearing her throat and stirring her drink with a straw, "it's a double edged sword, really, isn't it? Cause you live in a world of what if's, you know? What would it have been like had she died, would our parents have cared? They didn't seem all that plussed that she was still around after the fact, to be honest. I think it fucked her up though, more than she's willing to admit. I care because..."


A pause, as John watched her, sipping from his straw, an eyebrow raised.


"Fuck," she whispered, "someone has to, right?"


Now THAT was an answer John wasn't expecting.


"I mean, that's kind of my viewpoint, yeah," John said, as they both turned their gaze towards Star, "the world is full of people who don't care. About themselves, about one another, about anything. Even the ones who swear up and dow have only so much to give in the end, and don't care as much as they thought they did. People will abandon you in a heartbeat, use you for validation, hurt you without thinking twice. I guess I just prefer to be the exception rather than the rule."


Geena smiled again, nodding slowly. She could see why Alexis had attached so hard to John, and their relationship as a whole was starting to make sense again now. Geena stirred her drink with her straw again and exhaled.


"I bought a boat," she said.


"Yeah?" John asked, sounding surprised, looking back at her, "you lose a bet or something?"


"No," Geena replied, chuckling, "no, I...I..."


Geena and John locked eyes and she sighed again.


"I wanna take her out on a boat, and I need your help," she said.


                                                                        b     ***


Miranda was lying on the couch back at the apartment, Lilian atop her, kissing up and down her neck, making her squirm. Miranda smiled and blushed, feeling Lilian kiss down her tummy and stop at her thighs, pushing her dress up. Miranda giggled.


"I have to say," Miranda said quietly, "and this isn't saying women can't be the dominant one but...my whole life, being in bed with someone, I always felt so performative and hated being expected to be the one to make any moves. I always wanted it to be the other way around. So having you here, on top of me, doing all the work....selfish, maybe, but I like it."


Lilian laughed and kissed back up, putting her hands on Miranda's shoulders and mounting her.


"You have the right to be selfish after what you've lived through," Lilian said, "you've earned it, and I'm more than happy to be in charge. Honestly, I'm the opposite. The men I used to hook up with at parties while in costume always wanted me to be sweet and submissive, so actually being with not just a woman but a woman who doesn't mind if I take the lead...yeah...it's kind of perfect."


Miranda held onto Lilian's hips as she started to grind on her, both girls panting, breathing hard.


"I think I fell in love with you the minute you walked into my hospital room." Miranda said.


"Yeah?" Lilian asked.


"Yeah," Miranda replied, "I...I just saw you, and it was like I could instantly see the future. I'd always had trouble seeing a future of any kind for myself until that point. Part of that could be attributed to not having lived authentically until now but...but with you, it was all so clear."


"That's, like, the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," Lilian said, the both of them laughing as she leaned down and kissed Miranda, breathing into her mouth.


"Do you wanna be my wife?" Miranda asked, and Lilian opened her eyes, staring at her.


"What?"


"I'm sorry, shit, that...that was way too forward and way too soon and I..."


"...why don't we talk about it more, tomorrow, and tonight we just...enjoy what we have," Lilian said, making Miranda blush as she added, softly, "now turn off that lamp."


Miranda reached behind her, to the lamp on the table by the couch, and did as she was told. She could wait a while for an answer. After all, she'd already waited her whole life to be herself.


Miranda had gotten really good at waiting.

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Michelle came down the stairs, one hand clenching at the collar of her robe while the other rubbed her eyes. It was almost 5am, and she had woken up with an upset stomach, so she went in search of some crackers and water. However, as she neared the landing, she could hear the soft gentle crying of Delores in the kitchen. She approached cautiously and peered inside, only to see Delores sitting at the table, looking at a small photo album. Michelle entered and cleared her throat, giving Delores ample time to wipe her face on her robe sleeves and try to catch her breath.

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked, her voice raspy from sleep.

"I'm....having a moment," Delores replied, half laughing, "are you?"

"I don't feel great, I needed a snack," Michelle said, sitting down at the table, "but...if you wanna talk about it, we can-"

"There's nothing to discuss, no, it's okay," Delores said, "I was just...I was thinking about my daughter was all. Some nights it gets to be too hard to ignore. There's some tea on the stove, if you're thirsty. I'm gonna try to go back to sleep, I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

With that, Delores stood up and, taking the photo album with her, she kissed Michelle's forehead before yawning and heading back up the stairs, mug in her other hand. Michelle looked around the kitchen and sighed. She knew Delores saw her as a surrogate daughter of sorts, as she was a mother stand in to Michelle, but this incident made Michelle want to give something more to Delores than she could. She wanted to give her her family back. But how could she possibly do that? She knew next to nothing about her daughter, and wasn't sure where to begin to look.

Another night of uncertainty.

                                                                                                            ***

Justine didn't remember anything about the crash except for hearing her boyfriends screams. It was strange, she was so eerily calm in the face of possible eternal nothingness, and yet her boyfriend was the one screaming like a little girl. His screams, and the difference between the two of them, was the only thing she could recall. The next thing she knew, she was laying in a hospital bed and could barely move. In fact it even hurt to breath. She looked to her side and saw a glass of water, so she reached over, grasping it best she could, and pulled it to her lips where she took long, steady gulps. Once it was empty, she set it back down and coughed a little, before noticing that also on the bedside table where the glass had been was a card.

She once again reached for it, struggling to do so, and after getting it in her bandaged hands, she opened it slowly - too much movement hurt - and read the inscription on the inside. It was from her mother, Delores, and it was a whole two paragraphs long. After scanning it, she felt herself tear up and put the card back on the table, face down, and promised herself she'd never speak to her mother again. And she hadn't since that day. She made a lot of promises that afternoon in that hospital bed: get back to good health, never fly again and cut her mother off, and since then...well...

...she was proud to admit she'd stuck true to all of them thus far.

                                                                                                            ***

"I can find her, don't worry," Liam said, and Michelle looked at him with casual uncertainty. She heard Eliza set down a pair of scissors on the table in The Hole and looked behind her momentarily before resetting her gaze on Liam once again.

"You can?"

"I can find anybody," Liam said, "Michelle, you of all people should know how easy it is to actually track someone down, given what you and Keagan managed to accomplish. Just give me a few days and I can definitely get the information you need."

Liam sipped from his coffee cup as he and Michelle went back to watching, from afar, Eliza create a new prop for the show. The Hole had quickly become the hide out for Eliza's immediate friend circle, and she wasn't at all bothered by this. Liam was a close friend, Bea was like a secondary mother, and Michelle was her girlfriend. Her workspace was their safe space. Michelle sighed and tossed her hair.

"What if she doesn't want to be found? What if I'm...what if I'm making a huuuuuuge mistake by doing this? For all I know she and Delores hate eachother. I mean, when Delores first told me about her, she said Justine specifically cut ties, and didn't want her help or company any longer. What if I'm fucking that up by reaching out?" Michelle asked, chewing anxiously on her nails.

"Your justifications are sound, regardless of the outcome. Besides, as someone who hates their mother, I think perhaps it's imperative that you two speak," Liam replied, "maybe you could both give one another some much needed insight."

Michelle nodded, taking in Liam's opinion to heart. Michelle hadn't even heard so much as a peep from her mother since Beatrice confronted her in the hospital hallway. Not that she minded, the less interaction between the two of them the better, she felt. They both went back to watching Eliza as she turned on her sewing machine and began to stitch. Michelle smiled a little. At least, in the moments of sheer uncertainty, she was confident that she had someone in her life who loved her the way she needed to be loved, and she knew she was lucky in that regard. Not everyone had that.

"Let me know when and if you find anything," Michelle said, and Liam nodded.

"Yeah, of course, you'll be the first to hear about it, besides me obviously," Liam replied, the both of them chuckling. Michelle walked towards the table to talk to Eliza and, watching them converse, Liam thought back to his own family. He'd met Bea's parents now, he'd seen where she'd come from, but Michelle was still such an enigma to him. His own family hadn't been much better though, to be fair. He wasn't nearly as estranged from them as, say, Michelle was, but he did try to keep contact rather to a minimum. He thought back to Justine, and Michelle's inquiries about her whereabouts, and he realized he was somewhat of a hypocrite. How could he justify finding someone who so clearly didn't want to be found?

But that's what he did. That's what he had. Found family. What better reason was there, really?

                                                                                                           ***

Justine laid on her couch and exhaled deeply. It had been a long day.

She'd done a ton of watercolors, sketches, charcoal drawings, and more for the current kids book in production, and her hands hurt and the last thing she wanted to do was more work. Right now she wanted to rest, relax, maybe watch some sort of history show where she could shut her brain halfway off. She turned the TV on, put the volume to a low rumble, and pulled a pillow over her face. But the rest didn't last long, because only a few minutes later did her landline ring. She groaned, annoyed, and rolled over, reached across the armrest of the couch and gripped the phone from its base on the table beside her and pulled it to her face.

"Hello?" she asked, but nobody spoke. She sighed and spoke again, "helllloooo? Is anyone there?"

This had been happening for weeks now, on and off. She waited for a few moments, and then hung up. It rang again a few minutes later, only for the same thing to occur. She was beginning to get very frustrated with this, and had even considered outright canceling her phone service or even changing her number, but she knew that wasn't logical. Justine laid there on the couch and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what she should do that evening. She didn't want to work anymore, so maybe she should go out and get something to eat. Peter had always liked going to...

...and that's when the despair set in.

As soon as Peter was invited into her mind, everything else went out the door. She felt like she was being dragged down into a tar pit from which, no matter the amount she struggled to do so, she could not break free. He was gone. He had been here. He had been her best friend, her lover, possibly her future husband (they had discussed marriage on a number of occasions in fact, and neither felt remotely opposed to the idea). They'd lived together for a number of years, and to lose him, especially in the way that she had...she often wished she'd just died as well. What was the point of survival, she questioned, if it meant surviving on your own? She knew people hated the whole 'don't let someone else be half of your whole' belief of romance, but that's what they had been. Two halves of a whole. Now here she was, merely a half, and most days she barely felt like that even.

She'd started writing a novel in her spare time when she wasn't working on childrens books, but she'd only gotten maybe 15k words deep, and was struggling to get further, not because it was challenging -  she was nothing if incredibly artistically inclined - but because it just hurt so deeply to write about things she no longer could experience. Justine rolled onto her side, tugging the pillow into her chest, her face now touching its nose to the back cushions of the couch and she started to cry. Everything had lost its luster. Even the mundane things, like grocery shopping, were now even somehow more dull than they had been with him. Maybe she just wouldn't eat dinner tonight. She hadn't been eating as much since the accident. She was losing weight fast. But, like with everything else, she just didn't care.

The next early afternoon, the phone rang again, jolting her awake on the couch, and again, when she answered, there was nobody. She knew there were a few possibilities: either her mother, Delores, calling and then hanging up out of fear, a wrong number, a faulty connection, a prank. But despite all these being such obvious reasons, the one she clung to was the hope, however bleak and ridiculous as it might've seemed, was that it was Peter trying to call her, tell her he was in fact okay wherever it was he had ended up.

But she knew that was stupid.

It was raining. She made some cocoa and went back to sleep.

                                                                                                         ***

Casey Kochawski was sitting in the backroom of the pizzeria, alone, smoking a joint. The costumes head was sitting on the couch beside her, as she blew smoke into the air, and then waved it away with her pawed hand, dispersing it. The doorknob twisted, and Casey worried, trying to figure out what to do with the joint, but when the door opened, it was Beatrice coming in. She smiled at seeing Casey smoking, and pulled a chair over towards the couch, seating herself and watching Casey watching her nervously.

"Uh...I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I shouldn't be-" Casey said, clearly anxious.

"Nah, you're good," Bea said, "smoke 'em if you got 'em. I just wanted to come by and thank you for the piece of art you gave me the other week."

"Oh!" Casey said, now smiling, "Yeah, yes! Of course! You're...you're so welcome! I'm so glad you liked it."

"How did you even become a fan?" Bea asked, as Casey held the joint out to her and she hesitantly took it, taking a long puff as Casey adjusted herself on the couch.

"This costume is so bulky," she muttered under her breath, making Bea chuckle as she added, "um...actually, I watched it when it was originally on too. I grew up poor, so...so we didn't get a lot of TV channels, cause we couldn't get cable or whatever, so I just watched whatever was available, and the channel I watched the most, our local channel, got your show. But I never...I never looked into it or anything, like that girl did, I never recorded and digitized it. I just...remembered it."

Bea nodded, listening, waiting for Casey to go on. After a moment, Casey exhaled and continued.

"Uh...and...uh...my house was always filled with yelling. My parents hated one another," Casey said, "I was practically ignored, like...like to the point where child services were often involved cause I didn't...I'd go to school without shoes because my shoes would wear out and nobody would get me new shoes and stuff like that. Whenever I did ask for help, my parents would just yell at me, before yelling at one another again. So having your show, someone so gentle, talk to me reassuringly...I don't know. It really helped."

Bea wanted to cry. She handed the joint back to Casey and put a hand over her mouth, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Casey turned the joint around in her hand and looked at it for a long minute before continuing to smoke.

"I guess, I don't know, I just wanted you to know how much good you did, even if you thought you didn't do any," Casey said, "cause I know the feeling of feeling like nothing I'm doing matters. I mean, here I am, no high school diploma, dropped out in 8th grade, and I'm working here, pretending to be you. But that's kinda exactly what I always wanted. Was to be you, you know? It's like this weird middle path between ashamed and proud."

Bea nodded, as Justine took another long drag. Bea finally reached across and put her hand on Casey's knee, the both of them looking into one anothers eyes.

"...do you want a job?" Bea asked.

"I have a job," Casey said, laughing.

"Come work with me," Bea said.

"You mean for you?"

"No," Bea said, shaking her head, "I mean with me."

Casey smiled, and wanted to cry. Even now, as an adult, here was the dog, always looking out for her.

                                                                                                          ***

"Tada," Liam said, leaning over Michelle's current prop in the making - a new rose bush made from plastic - holding out a piece of paper towards her. Michelle got up from her knees and cautiously took it, looking at him as he stayed leaning there.

"Okay first of all, you can only say that if you're a magician," Michelle replied, "secondly that's wet paint."

"Ah!" Liam shouted, recoiling, now noticing the wet paint on his coats elbows, "god, you couldn't have told me that sooner?!"

Michelle cracked up and unfolded the paper, looking at it, before looking back at Liam.

"Seriously? That fast?" she asked.

"Now I gotta get this dry cleaned, you know you're paying for this right?" Liam asked.

"Yeah yeah, sure, whatever, seriously though? It's been like two days, how did you-"

"Because, Michelle, I'm good at what I do," Liam said, "dammit, this was my favorite jacket!"

Michelle thanked him again and turned to exit. She entered the hall, headed for Bea's office and the landline within it. As she walked past a vending machine, Eliza rose up from her kneeling position, bag of cookies in her hand and started following her. Once within the room, Michelle told Eliza to shut the door, and she did just that. Michelle grabbed the phone from the base, then dialed the number on the paper as Eliza stood and watched, eating from her bag of cookies. A few rings, and then finally an answer.

"Hello?" Michelle asked, the excitement in her voice incapable of being masked, a grin spreading across her face, "Hello , my name is Michelle. I'm calling for Justine Stiltskon? Yes, okay hi! Hello Justine. I'm from..."

Michelle glanced around and looked at Michelle, who just held up her cookie bag.

"...Famous Amos Publishing," Michelle said, both of them trying to stifle their laughter as she continued, "I want to speak to you about a possible illustration job for an upcoming...yes...Yes! Okay, well when do you think we could meet? I would gladly come to your home."

Michelle scrambled for a pen and a piece of paper, tucking the phone under her chin as she jotted it down.

"Okay, thank you so much, I'll see you then," Michelle said, hanging up and looking at Eliza.

Michelle was about to attempt to do something, and she was just hoping she wouldn't regret it.
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About

So Happy Together is a dramedy about couple Aubrey & Brent. After Aubrey plays an April Fools joke on Brent that she's pregnant, Brent confesses out of panic that he actually has a secret daughter with an ex wife, and everything changes overnight.

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