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Sitting in the hallway of Froth's Elementary, right outside Maddison's classroom door, Lillian couldn't help but realize just how long it'd been since she'd actually set foot inside of a school. She didn't feel old, but somehow she'd become an adult seemingly overnight, and now here she was, helping a kid when she still felt very much like a kid herself. She looked at the girl sitting beside her and sighed. The girl, a few years younger than her and Japanese/American, smiled at her.


"This is awkward, right?" Lillian asked, and the girl shrugged.


"It is what it is," she replied, "The thing about caring for kids is you'll do anything for them, even stupid awkward things. Learned that after being a babysitter for a long time."


"I never liked talking in class when I was in class," Lillian said, exhaling, making the babysitter, Rina, laugh.


"I was the same way. Model student, except when it came to participating with other students," Rina said, just as the door opened and Maddison popped her head out, looking at them, grinning.


"It's time! Come on!" she said, signaling to Lillian, who merely exhaled, looked at Rina, then stood up and followed Maddy into the classroom.


                                                                             ***


"Do you guys ever come up with backstories?" Vera asked, sitting in the booth at the diner beside Tyler, Lillian across from them in the usual order.


"What do you mean?" Lillian asked, sipping her coffee.


"I mean what I asked. Do you ever come up with backstories for the characters you play at parties and events?" she repeated, "Like, Ty, do you ever think about what it is your sheriff has been through and does that differ depending on what type of situation you go into that day?"


"He's a lone wolf, a rebel, but he has a heart of gold," Tyler said, cutting his sandwich in half, making Lillian chuckle as he continued, "He wants to make kids feel better because his own children died so violently, thanks to a ruthless gunslinger named Rusty Spurs. Rusty was the meanest, cruelest man in the west, often traveling from town to town and shooting horses in the forehead just to see what would happen-"


"Okay, forget I asked," Vera said, smirking as Tyler laughed and bit into his sandwich; Vera looked at Lillian, nodding, and asked, "What about you?"


"I don't know. I'm not really acting, you know? I'm just...there. It's not like a play or a movie or something. I mean, sure, believeability is nice and all, but...you think it really matters?"


"I'm sure it does," Vera said, "I read a report recently from the company that said the more in depth and real the character seems, the more immersive the experience, the more satisfied the child is. They want to truly believe they've met a princess, or a cowboy-"


"Or a pirate?" someone asked, sitting beside Lillian and pulling up their eyepatch, rubbing their eye beneath it.


"Or a pirate, yes," Vera said.


"Hey Alex," Tyler said, swallowing his bite, "You work today?"


"I just got off, but I have another party this evening," Alex said, pulling the pirate hat off her head and setting it on her lap, revealing a large amount of bushy black hair, "So we talkin' backstories, I guess? I sometimes try and come up with something. Gives it a bit more pizzazz, but really it depends on what kind of kid I'm being hired for. Some kids don't give a crap and some kids are really into the whole make believe thing."


"I just never saw this as anything other than a job," Lillian said, shrugging, "Like, I'm no different than a clown or something."


"Like Stinko?" Vera asked, confusing Tyler and Alex, who looked at Lillian, who now appeared irritated.


"What? Who's Stinko?" Tyler asked, half laughing.


"Nobody. I don't wanna talk about him," Lillian said, deflecting and adding, "A magician is hired to do a job, so am I, so there. End of story."


Lillian's watched beeped, and she made Alex get up so she could slide out of the booth and pull her coat on over her costume.


"Now, if you'll excuse me," she continued, "I have a prior engagement to attend to."


As they watched her leave, Alex pulled some leftover fries from Tyler's plate and dipped them into Lillian's still warm coffee mug, eating them.


"She's weird," Alex said.


"Yeah, she's weird," Tyler remarked, rolling his eyes, making Vera chuckle.


                                                                               ***


When Lillian pulled up to the house, she was surprised to see someone was already there. Not Maddison's parents, no, but another car was parked in the driveway. Lillian stepped out of her vehicle and crossed the street, now wearing her regular civilian clothes. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets, her teeth chatting from the crisp breeze, as she headed up the walkway and knocked on the door. It opened, and a young woman, not much younger than herself, stood there. She was wearing jeans, a striped t-shirt and a green jacket. She had long black hair pulled back a bit, and looked to be a mixture of Japanese and American.


"Can I help you?" she asked.


"Uh, hiiii....my name is Lillian, I'm here to see Maddison, she invited me," Lillian said.


"...okay, come on in," the woman said, stepping aside, "I'm Rina, her babysitter. You know, most people probably wouldn't let their kid be friends with random adults."


"Oh, well, I'm not a random...I mean...my friend worked her birthday party, and when I heard about, you know, what happened, I guess I just sort of made it my mission to check up on her, make sure she was okay."


"...that's very sweet, actually," Rina said.


"You're here!" Maddison said, running down the hall and hugging Lillian around the waist.


"Indeed I am, yes!" she said, laughing nervously, "You didn't tell me you had company."


"She didn't tell me someone was coming, so I guess we're both allowed to be weirded out here," Rina said, sitting at the kitchen table and biting into a cracker.


"Lillian, come with me, I wanna show you something!" Maddison said, sounding excited in a way only a child could; she dragged Lillian by the arm through the hallway, towards, presumably, her bedroom. Upon entering the room, Lillian discovered she was right in assuming it was her bedroom, thanks to the litany of kids clothes strewn across the floor and books and toys all over the place. Lillian sat down on the bed while Maddison rushed to the dresser and grabbed something, then brought it over to the bed.


"My grandma got me this," Maddison said, lifting the lid of the box and showing her essentially a music box featuring a princess spinning round and round to the tune; she went on, saying, "See, she's a princess just like you. I took this into school for show and tell, but they said it wasn't a real princess, and they're not wrong cause she's small and made of glass, but you're a real person."


"...I mean, I think I am anyway," Lillian said, hearing Rina laugh snarkily at her response from the doorway.


"That made me think that maybe I could bring you in for show and tell tomorrow! You're an actual princess, and they'd have to respect that," Maddison said.


"You know I'm not-" Lillian started, but then sighed, nodding, "...okay, I'll come."


                                                                              ***


Alex was sitting outside on the porch of a house, smoking a cigarette, when Lillian pulled up and parked. She got out and walked up to the porch, seating herself. Alex offered her some of her cigarette, but Lillian politely declined.


"How'd you even know where I was?" Alex asked.


"Vera," Lillian said, "She has all our schedules."


"Stalker."


"...I need your help," Lillian said, "You're a writer, right?"


"I dabble," Alex said, putting her cigarette out and pushing it into her shirt pocket, "Why?"


"I need you to help me come up with a backstory," Lillian said, "That thing Vera asked earlier, it really bothered me, because it made me feel like maybe I don't do enough for the kids I am hired to entertain, and maybe I should take more pride in what I do. What's your backstory?"


Alex leaned back, exhaling smoke into the air and clearing her throat, tapping her nails on the cement step.


"I'm an exiled Pirate Queen, always looking to get revenge on the bloodthirsty SOBS who stole my ship, my treasure and left me to rot on a cannibal island," Alex said, "I will not rest until I finally have my revenge, and see my thieving backstabbing shipmates heads impaled upon pikes."


"...that's a little dark," Lillian whispered.


"Kids are sick fucks," Alex said, shrugging, "They love violence, and hey, everyone loves an underdog. Did you have anything in mind for your own backstory? Even something basic we can mesh into something somewhat original or interesting."


Lillian sat and thought for a moment, then nodded.


"Yeah, I was thinking that perhaps I'm imprisoned by a queen of great beauty, one who demands too much of me, who plans to use my rightful rule to the throne for her own nefarious purposes," Lillian said, as Alex watched closely, listening. After a moment, Lillian added, choking back a few tears, "...I hate my mother."


"That's why moms are usually evil in fairytales," Alex said, patting Lillian's back, "Wait for me to finish this job, and we'll head to the diner and work on something, okay?"


Lillian nodded and watched as Alexis headed back inside. As she sat there and watched the world go by, she couldn't help but feel like so much of her life these days was spent waiting for other people, instead of doing anything for herself. Perhaps her therapist was right. Perhaps she was too much of a people pleaser.


                                                                              ***


When Lillian showed up at the school the following morning, she couldn't help but feel anxious.


She'd washed her dress that night, added lots of glitter to it and even shined her tiara. Still...she couldn't escape feeling odd and out of place. She parked in the visitors lot and headed inside, where she immediately spotted Rina pushing in a large cart. Lillian jogged up and helped her get the cart over the first few steps and into the school foyer proper.


"Thanks," Rina said, looking her up and down, "Wow, that's some outfit."


"What are you doing here? Do you babysit all these kids too?" Lillian asked, making Rina chuckle.


"I'm a helper for the cafeteria," Rina said, "I guess you need help finding Maddison's classroom? They're already all in class, but I can take you there anyway."


Lillian nodded, appreciating her help and following Rina down the hall. This school was not the elementary school Lillian herself had attended, and yet it had an odd air of familiarity to it, a stench of disgusting similarity. Did all elementary schools seem the same? Were they made that way to ease the transition of children who had to transfer one to another, so they didn't get too overwhelmed by a new location and new students?


"I feel so stupid," Lillian said.


"Naw, I think what you're doing is cool," Rina said, "Honestly, what you do in general is cool. You make kids days better. That's something a lot of these teachers never manage to accomplish, and that's something they'd be jealous of."


They arrived outside the classroom, and Rina let the cart come to a full stop. She took a seat on a plastic chair outside the door, with Lillian doing the same. Lillian removed her tiara and looked at in in her hands; so shiny, so sparkly, covered in faux jewels and yet still alluring. Reminded her of all the crowns she'd won as a child. She quickly shook that thought from her mind and exhaled, looking around the hallway.


Sitting in the hallway of Froth's Elementary, right outside Maddison's classroom door, Lillian couldn't help but realize just how long it'd been since she'd actually set foot inside of a school. She didn't feel old, but somehow she'd become an adult seemingly overnight, and now here she was, helping a kid when she still felt very much like a kid herself. She looked at Rina, who just smiled at her.


"This is awkward, right?" Lillian asked, and Rina shrugged.


"It is what it is," she replied, "The thing about caring for kids is you'll do anything for them, even stupid awkward things. Learned that after being a babysitter for a long time."


"I never liked talking in class when I was in class," Lillian said, exhaling, making Rina laugh.


"I was the same way. Model student, except when it came to participating with other students," Rina said, just as the door opened and Maddison popped her head out, looking at them, grinning.


"It's time! Come on!" she said, signaling to Lillian, who merely exhaled, looked at Rina, then stood up and followed Maddy into the classroom.


The classroom immediately made Lillian's head become flooded with memories of her own adolescence. Lots of students arts and crafts stapled to the walls, a color sheet on the wall to help kids express their emotions throughout the day, an alphabet chart above the board with a cursive one right beneath it. Lillian took some kind of pride in the fact that this didn't look too different from the way classrooms looked when she was a kid. Made her feel like, perhaps, not much time had actually passed after all. Maddison tugged on her dress, pulling her to the front of the class, in front of everyone.


"This is my friend Princess Lillian!" Maddison said, "She's what I brought for show and tell today. Lillian, tell them about yourself!"


"Uh, hello, my name is Lillian, and I'm..." she looked down at Maddison, and felt a pang of her past, always playing someone she wasn't, but she quickly shook it away, plastered on a smile and looked back at the kids, "My name is Princess Lillian, and I come from the Kingdom of Stromburg! I escaped the clutches of my evil mother today just to come to this show and tell, which wasn't easy, because she's particularly clever. See, she uses my beauty to put the citizens into a trance and do all her bidding! This is why I agreed to come to this little 'show and tell' you all have, was to see if you all could help spread my story and help me free my people from her awful clutches!"


Rina, standing outside the door and looking in, smiled as the kids started laughing and asking questions. She put her hands back on the cart and continued pushing it down the hall towards the cafeteria. She had a job to get back to. After all, they couldn't all be princesses from far off lands.


But she certainly appreciated Lillian's efforts to make the world just a bit more magical, even if only for a few minutes

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Leslie Swann was late for work.

Truth be told, she was late for work most days, but being the network head, she could get away with it. And besides, she often stayed late into the night to make up for it, so she felt nobody had any right to complain about her being late since she wound up making up the hours long after work had ended for everyone else. While they were sitting snugly at home, she was sitting in her office still, trying to find a budget that would work. But today was raining, and Leslie Swann hated rain, and it hadn't started raining until after she'd left the house, meaning she was unprepared for this type of weather because it wasn't just rain, no, it was a goddamned downpour. After spilling her coffee on her shirt, getting honked at by a dictator mom in a minivan with a cheap 4 dollar haircut and the 6 kids she was stuck with because she believed a wife couldn't say no to her husband, Leslie finally pulled up to the building, only to find someone had parked in her spot, despite there being a sign designating it hers. She wanted to scream, but she had more important things to do, and she couldn't waste the energy on that right now. So instead Leslie parked somewhere else, stepped out of the car, and - in her brand new pumps - right into an enormous puddle that went halfway up her leg.

Now she screamed.

In fact, she did more than scream. She threw a whole ass temper tantrum in the parking lot, and didn't care who saw. Her makeup was running, her hair was a mess from the rain, her coffee was staining into her nicest dress shirt and now she was soggy from a puddle. As she collapsed against the back of her car, she heard shoes approaching her, and looked up to see a woman standing in a dog covered rain slicker, holding an umbrella and smiling at her.

"Let me buy you breakfast, screw going in today," Beatrice said, and Leslie, without waiting, flung herself around her old friend and cried.

                                                                                              ***

"This is very nice of you," Leslie said, sitting at a table in a diner across from Bea as she dabbed at her work shirt to no avail. She pulled her wet hair back and sighed, adding, "I've had a bad week, Bea."

"So it isn't just today?"

"No, god...it's been an awful week all around. I was thinking today would be maybe alright, and since it's Friday I could go home and then relax and enjoy myself for a few days and then..."

"Isn't Friday casual clothes day?" Bea asked, sipping her cocoa, and Leslie sighed, leaning back into the vinyl diner booth.

"Yes, but I don't like wearing my civilian clothes to the office," she said, making Beatrice laugh.

"Your civilian clothes? Leslie, you work in public broadcasting, not the federal bureau of investigation," she said, trying not to laugh, which only made Leslie start to chuckle herself.

"I wanna set a good example, you know? I mean, I don't care if other people wear theirs on casual day, but...I feel like a leader should be well dressed, maintain order, without being a dictator, you know what I mean? How're these people gonna respect me if they see me in my Snoopy pajamas and horse slippers?"

"You have horse slippers?" Bea asked, "God, I came just at the right time."

"...why were you waiting for me?" Leslie asked, now raising an eyebrow as their waitress set down stacks of pancakes for them.

"I need your help, Leslie," Bea said, "The show's coming back, we're already well into pre-production, but...this network head, she and I don't see exactly eye to eye, and I need you to come in and back me up on some things. I wanna hire you."

"What kind of credit would it be?" Leslie asked, slicing off a hunk of pancake and dabbing it in syrup before eating it.

"Executive Producer," Bea said, "plus, the public broadcasting station will get first airing rights on the new episodes after they've been on the streaming service for a year. Not only will it boost your network, but it puts more eyes on the product."

"You sound like you've been sitting in with tech heads," Leslie said, "It's not a good sound."

"Believe me, I don't like it either," Bea said, making Leslie smile again.

                                                                                            ***

Michelle had been having that dream again.

The one where she was still 7 years old, and her mother had put her into an art class during the summer because she so badly wanted her daughter to be like her. Michelle had stayed inside during break one afternoon, to finish a drawing, and she'd started having trouble breathing. It became so bad that she started stumbling around the room, looking for the front door, and instead bumping into everything in sight. Paint cans spilled, everyones hard work ruined, and herself covered in colors. When she finally made it out, her teacher immediately called an ambulance. Her peers were even more worried about her than about their now ruined work (they were only children, after all), but her mother...

"It's okay," she'd said on the way to the hospital, "Every artist has setbacks."

Michelle woke that morning with a terrible headache. As she walked to the kitchen, she found Keagan sitting by herself at the table, reading a book and eating toast. Michelle seated herself across from her after finding some painkillers and popping them. Keagan looked up at her and smiled.

"Where's Lexi?" Michelle asked.

"At her parents," Keagan said.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, she just went to help her mom do some things," Keagan said, "...can I ask you a question, Shell?"

"Yeah, of course," Michelle said.

"...do you think Lexi and I make sense?" Keagan asked.

"I don't have a whole lot of relationship experience, so maybe I'm not exactly the best person to give advice on this sort of thing, but...she seems to really like you, and I think that's pretty important in a relationship. I don't mean just, like, enjoy being in a relationship, either. I mean she genuinely likes just being around you, and I think if you can find one person in the world who you can genuinely like being around, then...you know...yeah, I think that's good."

"She's just so prim and proper, she's from such an upper class family, she's so..."

"White?"

"Okay, sure, yeah. I didn't wanna say it."

"So what? You're not from 'the hood' or something, Keagan. And even if you were, who cares? Isn't the whole appeal of Romeo and Juliet the fact that they come from different classes of society and yet they manage to find undying love for one another?"

"Not sure 'undying' is the right word to use in this context in regards to that story, but okay," Keagan said, making Michelle snicker, "...no, you're right, and I know you're right. I guess I just let other peoples judgements make me judge us. You sound pretty knowledgeable about this sort of stuff, why haven't you been in many relationships?"

"Uh, I don't...know."

"Are you gay too?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I've found girls pretty, but I also like guys, probably moreso honestly, but...it's all aesthetics for me, you know what I mean? Like...it's all visual, and it doesn't elicit any kind of response other than awe or...or admiration. There's no...uh...I don't know how to put it."

"You don't wanna sleep with anyone?"

"I guess, yeah, I don't really feel sexual attraction," Michelle said, "I guess I've never really openly said that."

Keagan smiled and reached across the table, touching her hand, "I'm glad you did, because I think it helps us understand one another more. You know, at first I was worried living together with people I barely knew would be okay, but...I guess there's a reason we all get along after all, outside of our love for media."

Just then the phone rang, and Keagan, sitting beside the landline on the wall, reached up and picked it off the hook, putting the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, before handing the phone to Michelle, whispering, "I think it's Liam."

Michelle furrowed her brow. Why would Liam be calling her? She cautiously took the phone and put it to her ear.

"Liam?" she asked, "...oh, okay, I'll be right there."

"Something going on?" Keagan asked, and Michelle looked at her.

"Can I borrow your truck?" she asked.

                                                                                             ***

Liam had given her the address, but even when Michelle reached it, she was surprised at how out of the way and sort of dingy it was. Sure, it was a storage facility, but even then, she was surprised someone who'd worked in television would put their belongings in someplace like this. She pulled up to see Liam opening the gate from the keypad for her, and then drove through until she parked. She climbed out of the truck and rushed under the awning, Liam approaching her with a duck umbrella.

"I like you umbrella!" she stated happily, making him smile.

"It is cute, isn't it?" he asked, "Sorry to ask you to help me with this, but I couldn't get a hold of Bea. She's busy."

"It's okay, I don't mind. We're coworkers now, right?" she asked, smirking, hitting him playfully in the shoulder. Together the two of them headed inside and to the elevator, where they stepped inside. As the doors shut, Liam punched in the floor he wanted to ascend to, and then looked at his shoes.

"You can't tell Bea I brought you here, okay?"

"But...but you were gonna invite her first, so what's it matter if-"

"Because nobody besides us knows about this place," Liam said, sounding deadly serious.

Michelle kept quiet until the elevator stopped and they both stepped out. The lighting overhead was soft, pleasant, and the sound of their shoes clacking on the hard floor beneath them as they strolled down the empty hall made Michelle feel a bit calmer. After a few minutes, they finally reached a unit and Liam fished a pair of keys out of his pocket, shoving one into the lock, and the second into a second lock. He then pulled the lock off, and started to bend over to pull the door open, but quickly retracted this stance, putting his hand on his back.

"Would you?" he groaned, as Michelle nodded and bent down, pulling the door open.

What was inside was boxes, furniture, and other odds and ends. Michelle was confused. She expected something amazing, something spectacular, not something so...mundane.

"Uh, this is just stuff," Michelle said.

"It's Marvin's stuff," Liam said, entering the unit and running his hand up and down a beautiful rolled up rug, "...or, it was Marvin's stuff. It's mine now. But there's one box in here in particular that I'm looking for. It's big and dark green and plastic, it should be labeled BBC."

"British Broadcasting Corporation?" Michelle asked, making Liam laugh.

"Beatrice Beagle Costumes," he said, "How he wound up with it is beyond me, but he told me one of the last times we spoke that he had it stored in his unit, which he left me directions and the key to after he...well, you know."

"Is that it?" Michelle asked, pointing to a box in the dark corner, underneath a few other boxes. She helped Liam move the other boxes, before she bent down and pulled the other box out and together they knelt to the floor and Liam lifted the lid. Michelle couldn't believe her eyes. Inside was Marvin's costume, and costumes to numerous other human characters who showed up on the series - like Bea's veterinarian Veronica and her dog trainer Theresa - which Michelle immediately wanted to touch.

"This is amazing," Michelle whispered, making Liam smile.

"Indeed," he said, "I figured we needed to pull these out for the show when it starts shooting soon, so I wanted to ask Bea to come, but I figured...well, this wouldn't even be happening without you, so you should know where this stuff is."

"...what was Marvin like? I mean, as a person?" Michelle asked, and Liam sat down in a nearby rocking chair, running his thumb over the wooden head of his duck umbrella, smiling warmly.

"He was such a great guy. So much fun, so smart, so caring. Most of the people Bea recruited were very empathetic folks, hence doing a childrens show, and Marvin and I really understood one another...once the show ended, we were still..."

He paused and bit his lip, either trying not to cry or trying to choose his words carefully.

"...I miss him so much every day and I just wish he'd reached out to me instead of killing himself," he whispered, tears starting to roll down his face, as Michelle crawled over to him and put her arms around him, hugging him tight, and him hugging her back, somewhat surprisingly.

"...this morning, Keagan and I were talking about sexuality, and how, even though I'm not exactly queer, the fact that I differ from 'the norm' makes why we became such good friends make a lot more sense, because she's gay, and you're gay, and...I guess it's nice to find a community, even if it is one often steeped in loss," Michelle said, "...but it doesn't have to be loss, right? Because, look, he isn't gone. He's still here, in a way."

"He always will be, not just in this unit, but in my heart," Liam said, which made Michelle almost weep at how sweet this was. She might not feel sexual attraction, but she certainly understood the concept of undying love.

                                                                                                ***

Eliza was pacing nervously outside Stephanie's office door, chewing at her fingernails, as Bea and Leslie were inside, talking to Steph. Eliza had been told to wait, but she didn't understand why, and the waiting was beginning to drive her nuts.

"You're treating the show as a commodity," Leslie said, sitting across from Steph, "but the thing is, art isn't a commodity. It's a creation. To treat it as anything else is to cheapen it. There's nothing inherently wrong with making money from art, but to see it as nothing other than pure financial net gain...that's where it loses something special, and people notice."

"So you're suggesting we don't push the advertising right off the bat?" Steph asked, and Leslie shook her head.

"No, I'm suggesting you don't advertise it at all. I mean, sure, commercials, print ads, whatever is fine, but the minute you start churning out toys, dolls, etc, that's when people start to see it as not something personal or special but as just another thing to entice children. That's where you lose respect."

Steph sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She should've known Beatrice would find a way to throw a wrench in her longterm advertising plans. Suddenly, Bea stood up and walked to the door, opened it and pulled Eliza in gently by the arm.

"This is my puppet maker, Eliza. She worked with me on the original show," Bea said, "Eliza, please, show Stephanie why making money off something cheapens it."

Eliza nodded, then put a dog hand puppet on her arm before kneeling down in front of the desk, hiding herself. She popped the puppet up in front of Stephanie, and Stephanie smirked, unsure of where exactly this was going, but curious to see certainly.

"My name is Brisket!" Eliza said in a high pitched voice, "Right now I'm your friend, and that makes you feel good doesn't it?"

"I...suppose," Stephanie said, trying not to laugh.

"You need to put yourself in the mind of a child watching the show," Bea said, and Steph nodded, trying to do just that as Bea added, "Go on Brisket."

"Right now you know I'm here for you, to listen and to help, and make you not feel so alone, and that's a good feeling isn't it? Because the world is big and scary and it's easy to feel overwhelmed," Eliza continued as the puppet, "but then you see another kid, maybe even a kid who bullies you every day, with a backpack with me on it, and that makes you sad doesn't it? It makes you not trust me anymore, and then you will have a hard time trusting anyone, all because little ol' me was also friends with your bully. That doesn't feel good, does it?"

Steph's eyes widened, and she looked from the puppet back up at Bea.

"Do you get it now?" Bea asked, and Steph glanced to Leslie, who cleared her throat and patted Eliza's head, telling her she could get off the floor, as she leaned forward and crossed her legs.

"Children aren't stupid. They aren't reliable gullible consumers. They can tell when they're being sold to, likely moreso than any adult can," Leslie said, "You go down that route, you lose that connection, and soon you won't be any different from any other show. Being on a streaming service, along with the addition to be beamed into every home thanks to my public broadcasting network license, means you're gonna have more eyeballs than anyone else right off the bat, and your show will be more accessible than any other kids show. You tell a child they're special, then sell the very thing that makes them feel special to other children, all you're doing is giving them lifelong relationship issues."

Steph nodded as Eliza stood up and pushed her glasses up on her face, hugging Brisket to her chest.

"I think I get it," Steph said softly, actually meaning it.

As Eliza left the room, she bumped into Michelle, who was hauling the green plastic box down towards the costuming room. Both women immediately apologized to one another, and Michelle smiled at the puppet on Eliza's hand.

"That's cute," Michelle said, and Eliza held Brisket back up, putting the voice back on.

"Thanks! I am pretty cute!" she said, making Michelle laugh before she continued on her way.

The door opened, and Bea and Leslie stepped out into the hall. Bea put her hand on Eliza's back and rubbed it gently.

"You did great, kiddo," she said, "Go back to The Hole. I'll have your lunch delivered, okay?"

Eliza nodded and headed along her way, as Bea turned to Leslie.

"Thank you," Bea said, "I knew you could make this work."

"I'd do anything for you Bea," Leslie said, "...thanks for including me. I should probably get to the office now, though," she added, checking her watch.

Leslie and Bea hugged, then Bea stood and watched Leslie Swann walk off towards the parking lot. Bea stood there and smiled to herself, not knowing Leslie was smiling to herself. Leslie had had a bad week, but once again, all it took to make her week better was the dog. All it ever took was the dog. Mans best friend, as they said. Leslie reached her car, let herself in and started it up. Being with Bea again as a team made her feel so good inside, that now she couldn't go to work in a bad mood.

Leslie Swann was still late for work.

But this time it was worth it.
Published on

"This is weird," Tyler said, sitting in the passenger seat of Lillian's car. They'd decided to carpool to save money, and seeing as Lillian was doing better than he was these days, she was the one who offered to drive. She nodded, pulled down the rearview mirror and started applying glitter makeup to her face sparingly.


"It sure is," she said.


"I mean, I guess it's cool, like, for their parents to be this open," Tyler said, "Sure wasn't like that when we were kids, but a lot of things weren't like how they are now when we were kids."


"Progress is both wonderful to see and frustrating that you didn't get to experience it," Lillian said, starting on her eyeliner, "You're happy that so many kids don't have to go through the bullshit we did, but you're also mad that you're not one of them."


"Exactly. Why don't you do your makeup before you get here?" Tyler asked.


"Because," Lillian said, stretching her eye and drawing alone the edge, "if I do it before I come, it has the potential to get smudged, smeared or, on the chance I cry, runny. This way I walk in looking good."


Tyler opened a small container of sunflower seeds and started eating some as he waited for Lillian to finish. He watched her as she did her makeup, and he couldn't help but notice how calm and collected she was. She had this air about her of genuine ease, even if she swore she never felt any, and he was somewhat jealous. After the things he'd recently seen, he'd been anything but at ease.


"Alright," she said, finishing applying her lipstick, "Let's go."


Together they climbed out of the car and headed up the walkway towards the front door. They could hear kids screaming and shouting and hollering, having the time of their lives inside. As they reached the door, Tyler pushed the doorbell, and Lillian adjusted her bangs.


"You look pretty," Tyler said, making her smile.


"Thank you, so do you."


"Oh, you're just saying that," Tyler said, scoffing, making her laugh.


The door opened and a middle aged man with small round glasses and somewhat balding was standing there, his button down dress shirt tucked into his slacks. He looked at them, like he had forgotten they'd been called in for the day, then shook his head as if he remembered, and stepped aside, allowing them entrance into the house.


"Sorry," he said, shutting the door behind them, "Today is...weird. I'm not used to all this screaming."


"I often wear earplugs," Lillian said, "Do you want some earplugs?"


"No," the man said, chuckling, "No thank you, but thank you."


"So, where are we supposed to be?" Tyler asked.


"Well, here's the thing, we have twins, as you know, and we hired one of you for each of them. But, uh, it isn't exactly going to be what you think it is," he said, wringing his hands nervously, making Lillian and Tyler look at one another.


                                                                            ***


"Hey," the father, Clark, said as he opened the bedroom door and found his son, Chase, sitting on the floor and waving a little stick streamer around. Chase didn't look up at his father as he came in, and instead Clark let Lillian into the room to see the sight, and then pulled her back into the hallway.


"What's going on?" Lillian asked.


"Our daughter wanted the cowboy, and our son wanted you," Clark said, "And we don't have a problem with that, but...well, a lot of girls don't mind being rough and rowdy, but...no boys wanted to come to a princess themed party, so while our daughter's out in the backyard with her friends, he's in here...by himself."


"Jesus that's depressing," Lillian muttered, crossing her arms, "Well, I guess I'll stay in there then."


"Thank you," Clark whispered, before turning and heading back out towards the backyard.


Lillian entered the room and sat down on the bed, looking around the room. It was furnished fairly feminine, with a lot of pictures of famous women and girls cut out from magazines and put up on a corkboard on the wall over the desk. Lillian cleared her throat and looked down at the little boy sitting on the floor, wearing a long blonde wig and a sparkly dress, and she felt her heart caught in her throat.


"Hi," she finally said, "I'm Lillian."


"Hello," they said, not looking up at her.


"I like your dress," Lillian said, smiling warmly.


"Thank you," they whispered, almost as if scared of being complimented.


"I'm sorry nobody is here, but I'm here, so...I can be your friend. I think what you're doing is cool," Lillian said, "I mean, it's cool that you do whatever you want and that your parents are letting you do it. I think the fact that nobody came is something you should be proud of, like, you're too cool for them. They're embarrassed cause they aren't as cool as you are."


Chase looked up at Lillian, seated on the bed, and the two locked eyes momentarily.


"It's my birthday, and I'm gonna have a cake, and I don't wanna make a wish cause it never comes true," they said softly, "mom and dad make us say prayers every night but nothing ever comes true, and Santa never gives me what I want, so I don't wanna make a wish on a candle. It isn't fair. Your hair is real, mine is a wig."


"Lots of people wear wigs," Lillian said, shrugging, "Nothing wrong with that."


"I just wanna look like you," they whispered, starting to cry.


Lillian climbed down to the floor and sat beside them, taking off her tiara and looking at it in her hands.


"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I wish I could say something that would make you feel better, but...there's nothing I can really say that would truly help. This is something you're going to have to deal with as you get older, and it seems like your parents are okay with it, so it shouldn't be a big deal. I don't think it's fair, you're right, that nobody would come to your party but people came to your sisters. I don't think it's fair that girls get to like boy stuff and boys don't get to like girl stuff. I know things are changing, but the stigmas are still there. It's going to take a long time before those preconceptions really break down and everything is truly for everyone. But...do you wanna wear my tiara?"


Chase looked at the tiara in her hands, and nodded, wiping their arm on their sleeve. Lillian smiled and plopped the tiara down on their wig, removing the paper crown they'd had on before. She rubbed Chase's back and sat beside them.


"For what it's worth, I think you look very pretty," she said, "And I hope this makes up for having an otherwise lousy birthday."


Just then the door opened, and Tyler was standing there. Lillian looked up at him as he walked into the room and looked down at the two of them on the floor. He looked at Chase, in their little gown, wearing Lillian's tiara, and tipped his hat at them.


"Ladies," he said, making them chuckle, "Uh, your majesty, if I may...now I may just be a simple cowboy and I may not understand your customs and your culture, but if there's one thing I understand it is that family is important, and your sister is requesting your presence."


"She wants me to come out there?" Chase asked.


"Absolutely. She doesn't care what her friends think, she just wants her sibling with her. It's your birthdays, it should be spent together," Tyler said, "She told me she always plays dress up with you, and that's really no more different than this, right?"


"...but they'll laugh at me," Chase said.


"If they laugh at you, then I'll put 'em in the pokey, how about that?" Tyler asked, making Chase laugh and stand up as Tyler added, "Now you run along outside lil' miss, and we'll be right behind y'all."


As Chase exited the room, Tyler held his hand out to Lillian and she took it. He helped her back up and dusted off her dress. She looked at him and smiled warmly.


"That was really sweet, Ty," she said.


"Well," he replied, "it was the least I could do. She told me she wasn't having any fun without her sibling, so I figured I could maybe get them out there together. You should see it, it's quite a sight, a buncha little girls all dressed up in western garb, it's great. Who's to say a princess has no place among them? Besides, after not being able to do anything at the last party...I felt I should do something here."


"...I think I take for granted what I have," Lillian said, "It's so easy to whine and complain and feel sad about what I'm lacking - funds or a real career path or whatever - and I never really think about the fact that just who I am, the way I was born, is something so many people would die to have. The basic essence that is me, my body, is enough to be jealous of, and I think I take my femininity for granted a lot."


"That's understandable," Tyler said, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the room and down the hall towards the backyard. They stopped and watched the kids, Chase included, all running around and playing together. Each smiled, each for their own reasons.


"It ends so quickly. You think it won't, but before you know it it's over, and you're left wondering where it went," Lillian said.


"It doesn't have to though," Tyler said, "That's the thing. So many people see growing up as an unavoidable thing, but really, who says you can't be the same kid you always were just because you're an adult now? It's mentality, more than anything else. What you were saying in the car, about kids having it better and feeling jealous, sure, talk about a fucked up form of hero worship, but...it's for the best. Yes, we could've been happier children, but we're also who we are because of when and how we grew up, and I think you're perfect and I think I'm pretty okay."


Lillian blushed and looked at her glittery shoes, trying not to let him see her tearing up.


"Yeah," she finally said, "It's for the best, you're right. We might not have gotten what they have, but we can enhance what they get, and I think that's pretty important."


"Righty o," Tyler said, sticking his toothpick back in his mouth and winking, "Now how's about we go out there and wrassle us up some grub, lass?"


"You're such a dork," she whispered, laughing, as she linked arms with him and walked out together.


                                                                           ***


Driving Tyler back home that night, Lillian had a million things she wanted to say, but for some reason, the only thing that really kept running through her head was about the kid who'd died at the previous party. The kid they'd watched from across the street. She cleared her throat and looked over at him as he fidgeted with getting his pin on badge off his vest.


"You remember that girl, you know...the party where-"


"Yeah, I try not to think about that," Tyler said.


"Sure, fair, I just...I can't stop thinking about that poor kid," Lillian said, the car slowing to a crawl as she pulled up to Tyler's apartment. He sighed and undid his seatbelt before looking at Lillian, nodding.


"I know, I can't either, and I was the one who was there," he said, "but you can't let it run your life. If you let it overtake you, it'll eat you alive inside. Thanks for driving me."


"Anytime," Lillian said, watching him get out and head on into the apartment. She gripped the steering wheel, then pulled away from the curb and started to head back to the house they'd been to before.


                                                                              ***


She didn't mean to fall asleep there, but when the sun woke her up the next morning, she was surprised that she'd allowed herself to sleep in her car. Drool running down her lip, she groaned and shifted, realizing she was still dressed like a princess. Then she heard the tapping on the window, and screamed. As Lillian looked over, she saw the little girl from the lawn staring inwards at her.


"...are you gonna kidnap me?" she asked.


"Uh, no?" Lillian replied groggily.


The passenger door opened and the little girl climbed inside, shutting it behind her. Lillian looked her up and down, and noticed she was wearing a girlscout uniform.


"...what time is it?" Lillian asked, and the girl checked her watch.


"It is 2pm," she said, her braids bouncing as she looked back to Lillian from the watch, "I noticed your car here this morning, and it was still here when I got back from scouts. My mom told me not to get into cars with strangers, but you don't look dangerous."


"...thanks?" Lillian asked, as she pulled her rearview mirror down and started wiping off her makeup with a box of tissues she had in the backseat, "ugh, I'm sorry, I...my friend worked your party, and he was there when..."


"Yeah."


"Yeah. I guess I was just worried how it might have effected you. I know it's weird, we don't even know one another, and I'm not a mom or anything, but-"


"You're a princess," the girl said, "If you were a mom, you'd be a queen."


Lillian chuckled at this, then looked at the girl, and held her hand out.


"I'm Lillian."


"I'm Maddison," she said, shaking her hand firmly.


This little girl was very mature for her age, and this took Lillian by surprise.


"Aren't your parents worried you-"


"They aren't home. They don't get home until really late on weekends," Maddison said.


"...I need coffee," Lillian said.


"And donuts!" Maddison said, grinning.


"Right, and donuts, can't have one without the other," Lillian said, turning the car on and taking off down the street as Maddison buckled her seatbelt; Lillian glanced at Maddison, who was looking at her badges on her sash, and asked, "so, you're in girlscouts?"


"Mhm," Maddison nodded, "were you ever in the girlscouts?"


"Nah, I was in ballet classes and stuff," Lillian said.


"That's neat," Maddison said, "And now you're a princess?"


"Only for birthday parties," Lillian said quietly.


"...you can't be a princess every day?"


This was something Lillian had never really questioned, but it made her uneasy to think about. To be a princess every day would be like giving into her mothers idea of perfection, especially in regards to beauty. She'd had enough of that while growing up, and she felt gross enough projecting that kind of beauty to children as it was.


"Do you want some donuts?" Lillian asked.


"I like bear claws," Maddison said.


"And coffee?"


"My mom won't let me drink coffee," Maddison said.


"Probably for the best. What about cocoa?"


"I like cocoa!"


Lillian smiled and nodded.


"Cocoa it is," she said.


She suddenly didn't understand why she had been so worried. This child was more than well adjusted.


So what did that say about her then?

Published on
Her name was Eliza Tartt, but the crew just called her The Puppet Master.

She had brown, frizzy hair and large, thick round glasses. She stayed away from most of the cast and crew interaction, except to ask specific questions in regards to what they wanted from their puppets, otherwise she simply stayed in what the others referred to as "The Hole". It was her own private work station, far removed from the rest of the work stations, where she simply created puppets day in, day out, for the show. Once the series ended, except for Liam and Bea, everyone else stayed in contact with one another, except for The Puppet Master. Nobody heard from her again.

Which is why, when Beatrice showed up at her home, she was stunned. Even though it'd been so long, she looked exactly the same, almost as if she were somehow frozen in time. Same buck front teeth, same frizzy hair, just now wearing loose fitting clothes since she wasn't working in a studio. Eliza hadn't answered the door, however, that had been her father.

"Would you like to come inside? She'll be down in a minute," he said, leading Bea inside and towards the kitchen, where he offered her a cup of coffee, which she happily accepted as she seated herself at the kitchen table.

"You have a lovely home," Bea said as he filled up her mug and handed it to her, watching as she sipped it cautiously.

"Thank you! I've always enjoyed decorating," Don said, "My wife was an interior decorate for a long time before she retired, and she often employed my help," he added, chuckling. Just then, Eliza stepped in the doorframe that opened into the kitchen, and that was when Bea was struck by her immortal appearance.

"Hiya," Bea said, waving slowly, as Eliza stood, braiding some of her hair, her eyes looking everywhere else besides at Beatrice.

"I'll leave you ladies to discuss business, and please, have as much coffee as you want," Don said, leaving with his own mug.

"Do you wanna sit down?" Bea asked, "This could take a while."

"Could it?" Eliza asked, her speech fast and shaky, "Okay. I'll sit."

"You look great," Beatrice said.

"Do I? Do people change the way they look? I just always assumed people look the same forever, but then again I can't tell one persons face from another, so. You look the same. Just...older, sorry, that's rude. You should never tell a woman she looks old."

"No," Beatrice laughed, "No, I appreciate it. Wiser is better than naive. How've things been?"

"They've been," Eliza said, still refusing to look at her, "Um...why are you talking to me?"

"I've been given an incredible opportunity," Beatrice said, "and I want you to come with me. We're bringing the show back, and this time it's my creative control. No outside advertising, no blatant pandering. Now is the time for creator owned content to shine. Liam and I got a deal at a streaming network for a new batch of episodes, and I can't imagine doing this without my shining star."

"...you haven't talked to me in forever," Eliza muttered, "did I do something wrong?"

This question punched Beatrice in the gut.

"No, god no, I...Eliza, after what happened I just...vanished. I couldn't deal with anyone. I'm sorry I didn't stay in contact with you, but it wasn't like I forgot about you. Whenever people might find me, and if they were in the market for making their own things, I always directed them to you because I knew your work was so good. I don't know how much work that actually wound up netting you, but-"

"I don't make puppets anymore," Eliza said.

"Eliza-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to go," she said, getting up suddenly and running back up the staircase to her bedroom. As Bea sat and watched in stunned silence, Don re-entered the kitchen, sipping from his mug and eating a shortbread cookie, one of which he offered to Bea, and she graciously accepted.

"What the fuck happened to her?" Bea asked softly, "I mean, she was always eccentric, that was why I liked her, but...what happened to her?"

"...I guess things stopped being alright when her mom died," Don said.

"I get that loss has an irreversible effect on people at times, lord knows I myself have experienced that first hand, but...but how could it-"

"Because she thinks she killed her, Bea," Don said, sighing, "She thinks she killed her mother. And no matter what I say to her, she'll never believe otherwise."

Beatrice went from looking at Don to looking back up the staircase, just wishing she could know what had destroyed her star.

                                                                                               ***

"You're playing with fire," Liam said, "You do realize that?"

Stephanie sighed and sat back down at her desk, twisting open the lid on her bottle of water and taking a long sip.

"Yeah, I do, but we have our set contracts, and we can't just back outright of them. We have people we hire to do this sort of work."

"She won't work with anyone she doesn't trust," Liam said, "and frankly, I don't think I would either at this point."

Stephanie, arms folded now, glanced from Liam to Michelle, seated beside him.

"What about you? You know her too, what do you think? Could I sell her on this idea?" Stephanie asked.

"I...I don't think it's a good idea. She already vanished for almost 20 years just thanks to another studio hurting her and trying to make her work into something it wasn't, and here she thinks she's safe, because you've told her as much. I think you need to honor that. She can't be hurt again, she can't..." Michelle said, sighing before saying, "...she can't lose Beatrice again."

"How about this? How about half and half? She gets to hire the most important folks. The costume designer, prop maker, stuff like that. We choose the more film ground crew; editors, sound designers, stuff like that. That sound like a fair mix? This isn't us trying to hurt her, for what it's worth-"

"We understand that," Liam said.

"-it's about us having to honor pre-existing contracts we have with our workers," Stephanie said, "we're already doing a risky thing bringing back a kids show basically nobody ever heard of. In this day and age, when nostalgia sells like nothing else, to back something unheard of instead of a well known IP is kind of a shaky move, but we believe enough in the product and in your guys efforts to warrant the decision. That being said, Bea does not have the same clout as other successful saturday morning kids shows from the 90s."

"Fair, and totally right," Liam said, "Alright, I'll talk to her about it, but she might not be happy."

"We wanna keep her happy," Stephanie said, "But we also are legally obligated to keep everyone we work with happy, so."

After the meeting ended, Liam and Michelle were heading down the hall and towards the parking lot, when Liam stopped and pumped a dollar bill into a vending machine for a snack pack of chips. Michelle took a puff from her inhaler and exhaled deeply.

"This is beginning to feel like a mistake," Michelle said softly.

"I'm annoyed too, but this is business, this is what it is. It isn't all about making dreams come true," Liam said, popping open the bag and eating a few chips as they continued walking, adding as he chewed, "and besides, I think what she offered was a fair enough deal; so long as Bea gets to pick the most crucial people, I think she'll continue to feel safe."

"The thing I've learned in the past year, Liam, is that...the people you think are the most crucial are rarely the ones that actually are," Michelle said.

                                                                                           ***

"Eliza's always had...I don't wanna say 'problems', but, she's always been different," Don said, "When she was a little girl, she fell off a piece of playground equipment and hurt herself on the way down, hitting her head on a big piece of metal. As a result, she's...she's never really been the same. Not that she was exactly 'normal' before that. She was diagnosed with ADHD and a slew of other things but...that fall really did more than anything else did."

"I never knew about this."

"She doesn't talk about it, she's not embarrassed but...she doesn't think others should have to know," Don said, "and for the most part, I think she's right. Her mother took her to weekly therapy sessions for physical and mental therapy, because Eliza never learned to drive. One day they were on their way home after a particularly stressful session, and Eliza was just inconsolable about her lack of progress or what she perceived as lack of progress."

"I don't like where this is going," Bea mumbled.

"We've all heard the same story a million times, because it happens so often. It's a cliche for a reason, because it continues to occur. Rainy roads, loss of control, an accident, and eventually a death. My wife was my best friend, but losing her hurt Eliza more than it hurt me, and even I can openly acknowledge that. After that she stopped working on puppets entirely, and now she doesn't do much except play with her model trains."

"...I just always thought she was weird, in a good way, not...I don't know."

"Damaged?"

"I don't think damaged is the right word, because that insinuates there's something wrong with her, and there's not, she's just different," Beatrice said, making Don smile wide.

"You really are good at boosting a kids self esteem," he said, making Bea chuckle.

"I should get going," Bea said, "If she changes her mind, please let me know."

"Will do."

Bea got up, pulled her coat back on, threw her scarf around her neck and headed out the front door, Don leaning in the doorframe as he watched her descend down his porch. After a moment, she stopped and turned back to face him.

"You know," Bea said, "When we were in studio back in the day, I sectioned off an area specifically for her to work in, called The Hole. Nobody else ever went there, and she had the entire place to herself, far removed from everyone else. I just assumed she was a weird hermit, a sort of creative savant, and I respected her for that. I haven't lost that respect upon learning this, but...it makes a lot of things a lot more clear in regards to her behavior. I guess I felt protective of her, because I felt like I could relate to her. Just two weird girls making weird shit. I hope she comes around. You have my number."

"I do," Don said, smiling, "And thanks for everything you've done."

With that, he shut the door, watching Beatrice get into her car and drive away. After he saw her car turn the corner, he headed up the stairs and opened the door to Eliza's bedroom; it was filled with puppets she'd made over the years, and of course, model train tracks and small towns made of miniatures. She didn't even look up from him as he sat on her bed, and instead she continued to paint a small tree she was planning on inserting on a hillside.

"I know that might have been stressful, and I apologize for that," Don said, "Um...are you okay?"

"Okay," Eliza said flatly.

"There's something I think you should know," Don said, "...Bea paid for everything after the show ended. She continually sent money to help you stay afloat. Most of your therapy was paid for by her, even if she didn't know that was what the money was being spent on. Now I'm not saying this so you'll feel guilty and work for her again, but I want you to know that, yes, the world is cruel a lot of the time, especially to vulnerable people like you...but there's also those elite few who really do care, Eliza. Beatrice loves you. She loves your work. Just like you mom and I do."

Eliza stopped and looked at her dad.

"...I don't know that I know how to make," Eliza said, stuttering, "I...I'm scared I won't be good anymore. What if she isn't happy with me? Most people aren't happy with me."

"She came to get you specifically because she believes in your work," Don said, smiling, adding, "You're just as capable as you ever were. She told me she's best friends with a young woman who has breathing problems and often uses oxygen tanks. She works with people the rest of society considers broken because she sees that just because they have cracks doesn't mean they're broken. It means they're strong. To be that supposedly damaged and still going? That's power to her. Whatever you wanna do is fine by me, but I...I just don't want to see you give up a chance to do something great because you don't believe you're capable of it, when I know fully well you are more than capable of it."

Don stood up, kissed his daughter on the head and left the room. Eliza looked around the room at all the puppets, sighing, still braiding her hair as she usually did when nervous.

What would mom do?

                                                                                                ***

Beatrice was sitting in her apartment that evening, eating a sandwich as she listened to old jazz records and read a big book of paintings and their meanings. She'd always looked art books. She always found things in these deep dives to apply to her own work ethic, and she appreciated that. As she chewed, there was a knock on her door, and she stood up. It was probably Michelle, as she had said she'd stop by to discuss the meeting with Stephanie, but when Bea finally opened the door, she was surprised to find Eliza standing there.

"Oh!" Bea said, taken aback, "...Hi! Do you wanna come in?"

Eliza nodded, and Bea stepped aside, allowing her to enter.

"I'm sorry," Eliza said, "Um, I'm afraid of disappointing you. I don't wanna disappoint you. I always wanted you to be proud of me."

"I was always proud of you. You made me realize how important it was to connect with people the rest of society has thrown away and ignored. The sick, the ill, the damaged. Eliza, I don't wanna pressure you into this job, I just-"

"I wanna do it," Eliza said, "but, I'm not...mmm..."

She paced before sitting on the couch, leaving Bea standing and staring at her.

"Can I tell you a story?" Bea asked, and Eliza nodded as Bea finally sat down beside her; she continued, "a little over a year and a half ago, I met a young woman named Michelle. At first, I considered her to just be another overly enthusiastic fan, but...I quickly saw the value of what she saw value in, and I saw that because I saw that same enthusiasm in you and what you do. Michelle remade the set to the show in her basement. That level of commitment...I'd only ever seen it from one other person, and that person was you, Eliza. You won't be alone. Michelle will really like you, just like I do, and Liam does."

"...dad told me you paid for everything," she said.

"I did. I knew whatever the money from the network would be wouldn't be much, and I...I just felt like you deserved to be more well taken care of. Your passion for what you do reminded me so much of myself, so yeah, I sent monthly checks to your family. I didn't know until today that they were likely paying for medical expenses and whatnot, but..."

She paused and sighed.

"...it doesn't matter what they were used for. The point is the money was for you, and it went to helping you. I would do anything for the people who matter to me. Michelle knows this too. Vulnerable, different women in society are so often taken advantage of, and if all my work in life has been for nothing else than to show that they deserve better, than that's been worth the effort alone. Sure, a dog is mans best friend, but Beatrice Beagle is womens best friend."

Eliza smiled, and threw her arms around Bea, squeezing her tightly.

"I missed you," she whispered, crying against her shoulder. Bea stroked her back and sighed.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Bea said, "I'm sorry I wasn't more involved. I promise, I won't ever leave you again. I'm nothing if not loyal."

                                                                                         ***

Michelle and Liam were standing in the parking lot of the streaming studio, eating breakfast together, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Liam bit into a breakfast biscuit from a nearby fast food place and moaned deeply.

"You don't have to sound like you're having sex with it," Michelle said, making him almost choke from laughing.

"I just really enjoy it! I never eat garbage like this, so it's nice sometimes to remind myself how bad it is for me while enjoying how good it tastes," Liam said.

Suddenly a car pulled up and parked. The door opened and Eliza stepped out, her hair fully done up in braids. She was wearing overalls and big clunky shoes. Beatrice got out of the drivers side and walked around between Eliza and the other two.

"Eliza, this is Michelle, and you remember Liam," she said.

"It's nice to meet you," Eliza said, holding out her hand so Michelle could shake it, which she happily did.

"You too, I like your braids!"

"Beatrice did them this morning," Eliza said, giggling, before glancing at Liam and adding, "It's nice to see you again."

"It's great to see you Eliza."

"So, let's get to work guys, we got a show to write," Bea said, clapping her hands together as she lead the group inside the studio, all cracking jokes together on the way in, knowing this would be a wonderful work environment.

                                                                                              ***

"This is it," Bea said, opening the door to area, "The Hole."

Eliza, young and bright eyed, walked inside, carrying some of her equipment.

"It's big!" she said.

"It is big, yes," Beatrice said, "This is your space, and nobody else's. Feel free to decorate it, and just generally do whatever the hell you want. Passion projects? Go for it. Just be sure to get your work for the show done too."

"Absolutely!" Eliza said, her buck teeth lisping her speech a little, "Thank you Beatrice!"

Bea smiled and left the room, leaving Eliza to make The Hole her own little home, and she did. She made it her own space, and she loved it. Years later, upon tearing it all down, it felt like she was breaking herself down as well, and she never really recovered from that. The last time she saw The Hole was the saddest moment of her life, and she cried for days. She thought nothing would ever top this grief, until her mother died, and she realized the difference between creation and loss.

One you chose, and one you didn't.

And after her discussion with her father and Bea, she knew which was the one she wanted to fight for.
Published on

"It creeps me out when they ask me to keep the crown on," Lillian said, thinking back to the endless sea of single men she'd hooked up with at countless kids birthday parties, "They wanna call me stuff like their little princess and there's just something slightly unnerving about the whole thing. Not unnerving enough to keep me from orgasming, of course, but still."


She sighed, crossed her legs and looked towards the painting on the wall. A field of sunflowers. Beautiful. Calming. Meant to evoke happiness.


"And I used to find all of this so fun. I used to find joy in childrens joy, but after a few years of dressing up in the same outfit regularly like some cartoon character, now I find their joy grating, which sucks. A childs joy should never be grating. There are some perks. Sometimes a kid will give you a piece of candy, or a hug, and that always does melt my heart, because I'm not a monster, but overall..."


She glanced at the man sitting across from her jotting something down in his notepad as she sighed deeply and shook her head.


"Every little girl wants to be a princess, but...man...some dreams just shouldn't come true," she said quietly.


                                                                         ***


Lillian picked up the salt and pepper shakers and began daintily dashing them over her plate of scrambled eggs before mixing it all together and taking a bite. She leaned on the diner table and scoffed.


"It's like...imagine being the ruler of a beloved kingdom, but the kingdom is full of subjects you'd rather not rule and don't really care about, and they all look up to you so you can't disappoint them even though you've already thoroughly disappointed yourself time and time again. That's what it's like, honestly. Every single day is the same thing. Every single day, I put on the crown, I step out onto the balcony and I deliver a message of hope and togetherness when really it's a complete and utter lie."


She looked at her friend, Vera, sitting across from her. Vera, a light skinned young black woman - her short salmon colored nails tapping nervously against the coffee mug between her hands - furrowed her brow and grimaced.


"There's a balcony? Boy, these kids parents go all out," she said.


"It's a metaphorical balcony, genius," Lillian said, chuckling as she took another bite of eggs.


"I don't get it, how is what you're doing lying? You're just an entertainer playing pretend."


"That's lying! That's, like, the definition of lying!" Lillian replied, laughing now.


As the girls continued to laugh and eat their breakfast for dinner, a young man dressed as a cowboy walked slowly up to the table, scooted into the booth and took his hat off, plopping it on Vera's head, making her smile. He sighed and ran his hands through his scruffy short brown hair.


"Hard day down at the rodeo, tex?" Lillian asked.


"A kid died today," Tyler said softly, surprising both girls.


"One of the kids at this party I was at today grabbed a bunch of candy when the pinata broke, and I guess he just, he didn't know there was peanuts in one, and he just ate it, and he fuckin', like..." Tyler said, clearly trying not to break into tears; he waited a moment and held back his tears as Vera rubbed his back, before he continued, "he just died, man. He's dead."


"Are you kidding?" Lillian asked quietly.


"Yeah, this is my idea of a good time joke, dead children," Tyler said sternly, making Lillian hold back a smirk as he continued, "it was mayhem, just absolute chaos. Parents are screaming, kids are running around thinking the candy is poisoned, and this little dude's just lying on the grass as his throat closes and his little eyes are buggin' out-"


"I'm tryin' to eat here!" Lillian said.


"And I'm standing there, and I'm watching this, and I'm thinking to myself...I'm supposed to be a hero. I'm the sheriff. I'm supposed to keep people safe and maintain order in the face of abject evil, and be this grandiose fucking champion of the wild wild west and protector of the innocent, and I can't do anything to stop this. I just...fucking stood there...and...watched him die."


Vera put her forehead against his shoulder, still rubbing his back, trying to keep him calm as Lillian scooted her plate of eggs away from herself.


"I don't really have an appetite anymore," she muttered.


                                                                          ***


"His name was Thomas Middleditch, he was 7 years old," Lillian said softly, sitting across from her therapist, "I saw it on the news that night. A brief 45 second stint of recognition followed by the weather. That's it. Seven years of life summed up in a segment shorter than a commercial, and immediately followed with 'there's wind, Jill!'. Just bummed me the hell out, man."


"Are you still bummed out?" her therapist asked, and she shrugged.


"I don't know. My moods don't last more than a few minutes it feels like, so who knows," Lillian said as she slouched on the sofa and blew her bangs out of her face, adding, "it just feels really unfair. That sort of thing has never happened to any of us, and for it to happen to Tyler of all people, man...it really bothered me. He's a really fragile person. He didn't deserve that."


"Think about the kid whose birthday it was," her therapist said offhandedly, making Lillian raise an eyebrow and perk up a bit.


"What?"


"Sorry," her therapist said, chuckling a little, "I have a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself now and then. I was just thinking about the child whose birthday party it was. Someone their age, maybe even a friend, died at their party. That's gotta be traumatizing."


"I...I hadn't even really considered that," Lillian said.


"So tell me, how's your week been otherwise?"


But Lillian was now off on another tangent in her head, and there was no stopping what was coming from it.


                                                                          ***


Tyler was seated at a small, plastic, multicolored lunch table in the backyard, scooping a piece of cake up with a fork, when he looked up and saw Lillian sit down across from him. He furrowed his brow at her as he slid the cake bite into his mouth.


"What are you doing here?" he asked.


"I need to ask you a question," she said.


"How...how did you even know I was working here?" he asked, looking around.


"Vera told me. Anyway, I have to ask you a question...who's party was it where that kid died?" Lillian asked, and Tyler stared at her, deadeyed now, his fork dropping onto the paper plate.


"...why?" he asked solemnly.


"Because I wanna know how they're doing. Think about it, dude, some kid died at their party. That has to be traumatizing. I wanna see that they're okay," Lillian said, "So just tell me the name of the family and what street it was on and I'll leave, okay?"


Tyler sighed, setting his plate down as he scratched at his forehead. He cupped his hands together on the table and shook his head slightly.


"...if you're absolutely determined to do this, then we go together," he said, "I'll be done in an hour."


Lillian spent the remainder of the time at the party sitting in the living room, thumbing through an old book about birds and various diseases they contract (she presumed this kids parents were veterinarians), anxiously awaiting Tyler's job to finish. She thought about what would happen when they saw this kid. What could they even do if they were traumatized by it? It's not like they were child psychologists, or worse, the kids parents. After what felt like an eternity, Tyler walked into the living room, hat under his arm.


"You ready to mosey on over?" Lillian asked, smirking.


"You really need to stop with all the cowboy lingo," Tyler replied.


"No can do, pardner," she said, making him chuckle.


The two headed outside and into Tyler's car. He said he'd drive Lillian back to get her car afterwards. As she buckled her seatbelt, she looked over at him. Poor Tyler. He came from a broken home, and he was doing all this to help his mother pay bills, and he never even got to attend college. He was handsome, but in an approachable way, not a 'so handsome you can't take him seriously' leading man kind of way, and he was extremely nice. Always helpful, always considerate. If they each didn't have the baggage they had, Lillian had often considered asking him out.


The party in question had taken place over on Briscane, only a few blocks away, oddly enough, from todays job. Tyler didn't say a thing the entire way over, instead leaving Lillian to make awkward small talk for the both of them as she fiddled with his air conditioner.


"What would you be doing if you weren't doing this?" she asked.


"Going home."


"No, I mean, this job, in general. What did you wanna do instead?" she asked.


"Oh," he said, "Uh...I don't know. Something useful. I like the idea of being a firefighter, but fire scares me, so. Plus I'm not very strong. You need to have a lot of upper body strength for that sort of work."


"Well, yeah, how else are they gonna move those shirtless charity calendars?" Lillian replied, making him chuckle.


"I like this job cause it lets me work with kids when they're at their happiest, and I think that's what screwed me up about this incident because the happiest day of the year for this kid and now another child has died near them. Just felt sick. I always wanted to work with kids, but after..." he stopped suddenly, clearly choosing his words carefully, "uh, anyway, I didn't wanna do sad kid work, so this let me work with happy children, but of course, sadness exists everywhere. There's no escaping it."


"Have you ever considered seeing a therapist?"


"Like I could afford to."


"I was just asking."


Tyler pulled up to the curb and stopped the car, pointing across the street at a small, yellow house with white wooden window trim shades and beautiful rose bushes out front, where a little girl was sitting on the lawn, reading a picture book. Lillian felt her heart sink as she slid down in her chair. For some reason she'd expected this boy to have died at another boys party, she hadn't expected to see a small girl. That threw her for quite a loop.


"She seems rather indifferent," Tyler said quietly, "but perhaps I would be too."


"This is bumming me out."


"You asked to come here."


"...I wanna talk to her, I wanna...I wanna see that she's okay," Lillian said, exhaling deeply.


As she put her hand on the door handle to exit, Tyler stopped her, as the front door to the house opened and a man stepped outside, walking towards the little girl, patting her on the head and making conversation with her.


"...that's her dad," Tyler said, "he wasn't at the party, he was running late."


"She seems to listless," Lillian said, "So totally morose."


"Nice observation Professor Synonym," Tyler said, making her smile as he added, "...she didn't really respond to what happened. She just sort of hid away when everything was going down. Maybe she feels responsible, I don't know, but it struck me as odd either way."


"...I feel terrible," Lillian whispered, "I feel like we should be able to hide kids from stuff like that, especially on their birthday of all days, but it still happened. Look at her. She's got no bounce. She's got no glee. She's just...cold. No child should be cold. You shouldn't be cold until you reach at least 15 years old."


"And even then it's a mild cold, not the bitter cold you attain once you're in your twenties," Tyler said.


"Let's get outta here," Lillian said softly. Tyler nodded, starting the car back up and pulling away. Lillian could see the little girl on the lawn in the rearview mirror, but she quickly adjusted it, turning it away so she didn't see her anymore. It was simply too painful to watch.


                                                                            ***


"When I was a kid," Lillian said, chewing on her nails as her therapist listened, "I went to Disneyland. The happiest place on earth, right? I had so much fun, running around, riding the rides, meeting walk around characters and getting pictures and signatures and all sorts of good stuff. And then, on the last day there, we were waiting for Big Thunder Mountain, you know that train ride? It was about to start again, and out of the corner of my eye I saw this woman who was a walkaround for Cinderella, and she was standing nearby. I watched her closely, and as one of the other trains started to speed by, not yet done with its run, she just hopped the fence and let it hit her. There she is, Cinderella, smeared across a railroad track right in front of me."


"Holy shit," her therapist said softly as he started writing something down, "and this had an adverse effect on you?"


"Ya know, I don't think it had any effect on me, except to learn that there's no such thing as the happiest place on earth, because apparently even someones paradise can be someone else trap," Lillian said, running her hands through her long brown hair, "...did you ever have people come to your birthday? Not like a clown or something, but like what I do."


"No, but my child has," her therapist, Greg, said, continuing "they asked for a princess to come to their 6th birthday party. My wife and I are open minded people, so we were totally fine with them wanting a princess party. We got them a dress and everything."


"...why would you need to be open minded for that?"


"They were our son at the time," Greg said, "that party answered a lot of questions, heh. Now they wear dresses all the time and go by a girl name and we're just happy they're happy. By allowing them to explore that part of themselves via a birthday party, they were more at ease with who they were, and are happier now. They weren't happy before. We could always tell something felt off. So see, what you do is important. You help people."


Lillian smiled. She wanted to appreciate this. She wanted to feel like what she did did in fact matter. And yet she couldn't shake this horrid feeling that not only was she wasting her own life, but she wasn't really able to help anyone with what she was doing.


"I'll see you next Thursday, same time okay?" Greg asked, checking his watch.


"Am I...sick?" Lillian asked suddenly, jarring him from the unusual question.


"Uh...what do you mean?"


"I don't...I don't feel like I respond to things the way a person should. I feel like I either care too deeply or too little. Am I just a sociopath?"


"Yes, you're a sociopathic princess," Greg said, laughing, "No, Lily, I don't think you're sick. I think, like a lot of people your age, you're stuck because the world is burning down and nothing works, and you don't know how to get better. You don't know how to get unstuck. And I can't help you with that, sad to say. I can maybe make you feel slightly better about it, but I'm not going to be able to fix all your problems. No matter what I do, the world's still gonna suck and you're still gonna be stuck, and I think this job might be the only thing keeping you going."


"...well now I'm depressed, thanks," she said with a smirk.


"Hey, don't mention it," Greg remarked, laughing with her.


As she stood up and headed for the door, he stopped at the door behind her. She turned and looked at him for a moment, with a quizzical look on her face.


"Did you ever have a character at your party?" Greg asked.


"Yeah, once, when I was 9," Lillian said, "I asked my parents if I could have a clown. They got me a clown. But jesus was he a mess. After that I stopped having birthday parties altogether. Nobody really showed up anyway, so it was just me and Stinko all day long. That was perhaps the weirdest day I've ever had in my life."


"Stinko? Really? Stinko The Clown?" Greg asked, chuckling.


"Hey," Lillian said, shrugging, "It's a living. See you next Thursday, doc."


And with that she left, putting her tiara on her head as she walked out to her car. She had a job to get to.

Published on
"I have to admit, this is sort of exciting, I've never been in an actual production studio before," Michelle said as she, Keagan and Beatrice walked through the back halls of the lot where the show was to be produced.

"It gets less exciting, trust me," Beatrice said, "Not to sound jaded or anything, but...once you see where the magic comes from, that same magic stops being magic. That's why a magician never reveals his secrets, because he knows the value of a mystery."

"I disagree," Keagan said, "I find the creation aspect fascinating. I mean, here's an entire group of people working together to bring one idea to life. If government worked even half as well as the entertainment industry, the public would be ecstatic."

Beatrice couldn't resist chuckling at this sentiment, as she did have a point. The girls approached a room with an open door and peered inside, only to see a young woman finishing makeup on an older womans face. She looked up as they entered, and she smiled.

"Sorry, didn't know something was going on in here," Keagan said.

"No, it's fine, come on in," the young woman said as she turned away from her client, "We're done anyway."

The older woman stood up, checked herself in the mirror and thanked the younger woman before taking her leave. The three entered the room fully now as she the makeup artist wiped her forehead with a rag and exhaled loudly.

"They workin' you hard?" Keagan asked, arms folded, smirking.

"No," the makeup artist responded, laughing, "no, the air conditioner has been broken in this back area for weeks. You'd think that a streaming service could put up money into this part of their business, but apparently not. It's fine, I have my desk fan. Just can't have it on while doing someones makeup cause it blows everything around."

She clicked the desk fan on, then sat in her makeup chair and looked at the women again.

"Are we going to be working together?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm the only one who's going to be on camera, and even then I'll be wearing a mask, so likely not," Beatrice said, holding her hand out to be shaken, "I'm Beatrice."

"Clara," the makeup artist responded, shaking her hand firmly, "Well, someone in your cast is going to be utilizing me, so just send them my way when you know who."

Just then the little beeper on her hip sounded, and she groaned, excusing herself into a smaller, separate room from them. The women stood there momentarily, until they realized she wouldn't be coming back, and then turned to leave. As they crowded back into the hall, Beatrice shook her head.

"I've been out of the business for so long, and it hasn't changed at all. Sad," she whispered.

                                                                                              ***

Liam was sitting in a booth at a diner near the production studio lot when he heard the bell over the door ring, and quickly found Beatrice sliding in across the table from him. He sighed, put down his fork and looked at her as she skimmed through the menu.

"I take it it didn't go well," he said.

"Actually it went fine. The girls were far more enamored than I was, obviously, but nobody was rude or demanding or anything. We just took in the studio site, all that, and we gave the photos of Michelle's basement to the set designer, considering her mockup was the best photographic evidence we have of the set we used to own."

"They couldn't just use the tapes for that?"

"Please. Don't get me wrong, Keagan did a wonderful job cleaning them up, but the image quality is still so old that it wouldn't work," Beatrice said, "You are reprising your role, right? I wouldn't be doing this without you by my side."

"Yeah," Liam replied, smiling a little at her insistence, "Yeah I'm reprising my role, don't worry."

"Good. They want us to do 20 shows this year, each airing a week apart. Sounds brutal, but really it's the same as the old schedule."

"A week apart? Isn't the whole point of streaming to drop giant batches of content at once?" Liam asked, scratching his head.

"Yes, but that doesn't work with childrens programming. Children have school, homework, social duties. I don't want to overload them with things they won't have the time to watch, and then feel bad if they aren't as up to date as their friends are. That's why I fought for the weekly drop. I want it to be something special, something that feels like it happens only once a week and only for them."

Liam smiled. He'd forgotten just how endearing Beatrice could be. Sure, she'd done nice things like this on the previous show; birthday shoutouts and the like, but she was always genuinely nurturing little children in many ways they couldn't even comprehend, and he found that extremely kind. He was starting to feel grateful to work with her again.

"You have the puppet, right?" she asked.

"Yep," Liam said, "In my apartment, fit as a fiddle."

"Good," Bea said, sighing as she set down her menu and looked around, "...you know, if you'd told me when the original show ended that we'd be doing it all over again, I would've not only laughed at you but I might've beaten you to death too."

"Understandable."

"But the more I think about it, the more I wonder how lucky we really are. I mean, how many people are lucky enough to get to do what they want once, let alone twice? How many people make something that touches that many people that they want it to come back? That's...I don't know. I guess I feel special that Beatrice touched that many lives."

"You should," Liam said, itching his mustache, "I mean, you're going to be the bright light for a whole new generation of kids, and that's....that's simply not a thing everyone gets to do. To help mold a child, even if only through a TV show? That's a unique attribute that only a few people, and dogs, have."

"Though I gotta tell ya, I don't really enjoy the idea of being inside that wretched costume for hours on end again. Don't get me wrong, I love Bea, but that thing is brutal to be inside of."

"Yeah well, we all suffer for our art," Liam said with a chuckle, making her laugh.

                                                                                            ***

"I hate the idea of working with others," Keagan said as she put her laundry away into the closet.

Lexi, pulling her earrings from her ear and setting them on the vanity table before brushing through her long golden hair, simply nodded in response to this. When Keagan went off on something, she knew it was best to just let her blow off the steam as much as she could without interrupting or countering.

"I mean, I don't mind working with Michelle, because that's a real friendship, but...I don't know. These other people, like the makeup artist...it's weird. I guess I always feel like I have to prove myself around white people more than anyone else. Like...like if I don't, then they'll just immediately associate me with all the racial biases they already have or something."

"Well," Lexi said, turning on her stool, setting her hairbrush in her hands, "You didn't have to prove anything to Michelle, and you certainly didn't have to prove anything to me."

Keagan blushed. She knew Lexi was right. Both she and Michelle had liked her right from the offset, but still...she couldn't help but feel nervous going to work in a predominantly white studio. She'd always hated being the 'token black girl' no matter where she was, but especially at work, where she felt she had to show her worth far more than any white folks had to, as if to say she was worthy of being there whether her skin color was different or not.

"I'm just nervous, I guess," Keagan said, sitting on the end of the bed, "...like, all my life I wanted to work in media of some kind, and when I found out about lost media, I got so excited because here was a field that there was a lot of room for success in. I wanna be of help to Bea, and Michelle, but I just don't know that I know enough about actual media to really justify whatever credit it is they decide to stick me with. And with the makeup artist...it feels like I'm always wearing makeup, no matter what I'm doing or where I am. I'm always pretending to be someone else. Someone society will respect. I guess I understand why Bea hid behind a mask, because whether you're black or a woman - or in my case both - society is going to judge you doubly hard. But at least under piles of makeup, or behind a mask, it makes their judgement a bit tougher to make."

Lexi, using her toes, pulled her stool towards the bed and ran her hands into Keagan's bushy hair, smiling as she leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Your skin color is your personhood, not a tool to be used for the debating of your skills," Lexi said, snuggling up to her, making Keagan want to cry. How did she get so lucky to have someone so loving in her life? Sometimes, admittedly, she missed having her solitude just like Michelle did, but a lot of times, also admittedly, she couldn't deny being so thankful to have such caring people around her all the time.

This was one of those times.

                                                                                            ***

Michelle scooted another set of hangers further down the rack, pulled a few back, then sighed and kept looking. Delores stood off to the side, sitting on a small bench, as she watched. After a little bit, Michelle stopped and turned towards her, looking dejected.

"I don't know what looks good on me," she said.

"Well, kiddo, nobody does except models," Delores said, "but if you pick something that isn't perfectly fitted, we can always have it tailored more to your measurements. Unless you feel uncomfortable in form fitting clothing, I don't know."

"Are suits supposed to be form fitting?"

"Everything is supposed to be form fitting on a woman," Delores said, sounding annoyed which made Michelle laugh; Delores chuckled a little and continued, "but yes, they're supposed to, generally, accentuate your best features. Same with dresses. Even for men, suits are meant to make them look good. But are you sure you even really need a suit for a job like this?"

"I wanna be professional," Michelle said, seating herself on the bench beside Delores, tucking some of her hair back behind her ear, "...I've never gotten the chance to be professional, and I want to make Beatrice proud."

"I think you've already done that," Delores said, rubbing her back gently, "after all, you got her show back on the air after how many years?"

"Yeah, but...I want her to see that I'm more than just some media obsessed weirdo," Michelle said.

"Why? That's obviously what she likes about you," Delores said, "Why rock the boat?"

"I...I don't know. I guess cause I could never prove it to my mom," Michelle said quietly and Delores exhaled deeply, straightening up and adjusting her sleeves.

"You know, when I was your age, I wanted to prove to my mother that I was professional too. I so badly wanted to show her that I could handle life in the work force, so I volunteered everywhere I could. I saved up my money, I bought myself some cheap second hand suits from thrift stores, and I volunteered anywhere that would have me. I did gofer jobs mostly, but it didn't really matter what the job was exactly, I was determined to show her that I could handle it because she thought I couldn't."

"Why'd she think you couldn't?" Michelle asked, and Delores sighed, shaking her head, her curly brown hair bobbing as she did so.

"Never really knew why, she'd never tell me and I rarely asked. I guess some parents just don't have very high opinions of their own children," she said, shrugging, "but I soon realized the one I was proving right was myself, not her, and that was far more valuable honestly. I proved that I didn't need her approval, because my approval of a job well done was worth far more."

Michelle smiled at this story as she looked at her shoes.

"I guess my mom thinks because I'm sick that I'm just not capable of doing much," she muttered, "is that what the whole world thinks of sick people? Why do people like myself have to prove our worth to a world that doesn't respect us to begin with?"

"You're a disabled woman," Delores said, "you're still capable of doing anything anyone else is, but so many are going to not see that or agree with it. Trust me though, kiddo, in the end, the only one worth proving anything to is yourself. Do things for you, not for them."

"...I like the color grey, I think I'll get a grey suit," Michelle said, standing back up and heading back to the rack; she glanced over her shoulder and smiled, adding "thanks for coming with me to do this, Delores."

"Anytime," Delores replied.

                                                                                                ***

Women, especially women who don't fit into the general "normative" culture as society sees it, often have to fight harder to be seen, recognized and even respected. Women like Beatrice, who share too much of themselves too easily, or women like Keagan, whose only real difference was something beyond her control, or women like Michelle, who just had trouble breathing a little more than most women do. None of these women had anything wrong with them. They were simply different, and it was those very differences that made them equal, not better.

This was something that Clara, as she was coming into her small apartment late that night, was coming to realize. She'd fought so hard her whole life to not judge, and to not feel superior to others, and the only way she could find herself feeling less superior was to ruin herself so she could have something to point to to say "look, I'm worse than you, see!"

As she unplugged the cork from the bottle of wine and sat on her couch, pulling the little baggie from her coat pocket and putting the coke into lines on the coffee table, she realized how ridiculous it was. Self sabotage only because society hadn't given her something to hate about herself. It saw her as a heteronormative, cisgendered woman - which she was - with no real ailments of any kind, so instead she created some of her own, simply so she could claim she wasn't as "perfect" as society seemed to claim she was.

Lying back into the couch after doing two bumps, she sipped her wine and exhaled.

"We all wear makeup," she'd told a friend in the business one day, "just that some of us wear it all the time."
Published on
"You...you're offering me how much?" Beatrice asked, sitting beside Liam and Michelle in Stephanie Mirk's office.

Stephanie smiled sweetly and cupped her hands together on her desk as she leaned forward, her voice buttery yet professional.

"It'd be exclusive only to our service. We pride ourselves on making content specifically for children, and family, and after the viral success your tapes had, we can see there's a market for such a show. We're prepared to offer you a million an episode, and full creative control so long as you don't include any adult material or offensive content."

Bea looked at Liam, who shrugged and smirked. Bea nodded, then looked back at Stephanie as she exhaled.

"We have a deal, but only if you include my friend here," Bea said, putting her hand on Michelle's shoulder, adding, "After all, I wouldn't have viral success without her efforts. If she isn't included, then I walk."

Stephanie chewed her lip for a moment, then reached across the table and held out her hand.

"Deal," she said, as Bea shook it, adding, "And Michelle, welcome to show business."

                                                                                              ***

                                                                                 3 WEEKS EARLIER

"You do know your calendar is out of date, right? It's from 4 years ago," Bea said, knocking on it with her knuckles as she turned to see Michelle adjusting the knob on her oxygen tank before plugging the cannula into her nose. Michelle nodded as she seated herself back on her bed.

"I like the pictures," she said, making Bea smile.

"You're like a child, it's cute," Bea said, taking a seat in Michelle's desk chair across from the bed; she exhaled and looked at her, asking, "You sure you're doing okay? You don't need any help? You know you can ask me for anything."

"I'm okay," Michelle said, "I've had a hard time adjusting to living with people, admittedly, but it's somewhat easier seeing as they're friends of mine and not strangers. Still, I miss my solitude...and my basement."

"I'm sorry," Bea said quietly, "I know how that feels."

Bea had spent so long missing the set, that she knew how deeply it must hurt Michelle to miss the set she'd recreated in her basement. Somehow bother women had fallen in love with the same imaginary place built in two entirely different areas. Bea shook her head, then remembered and clapped her hands together.

"I forgot to tell you, I got a phone call the other day!" she said happily.

"Did you not own a phone before, or?"

"No," Bea said, laughing, "No, I mean someone from a streaming service called me and said that they wanted to meet with Liam and I about the show. They said they'd seen the viral success of the episodes you and Keagan had recut, cleaned up and uploaded to the site and they wanted to talk to us about doing something together."

"That's awesome," Michelle said.

"And I want you to come with me," Bea said, surprising her.

"You want what now?"

                                                                                                ***

Liam couldn't believe his ears. Standing in his apartment as he watered his plants, he mulled over what Beatrice and Michelle had just told him. He finally put his small brown watering can back down on a bookshelf and, using his cane, turned towards the women.

"Are you telling me you're actually considering going back to the business?" Liam asked, "Because I find that hard to believe after what happened. I find it even harder to believe that you want me to be a part of it, considering what happened."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to be a more forgiving person these days," Bea said, shrugging as she leaned against the armchair and watched Liam waddle his way back towards his kitchen to make some more coffee.

"And you want her to come with us?" he asked, pointing at Michelle with his cane as he filled the pot with water from the sink.

"Yes," Bea said, "If it weren't for her and Keagans efforts, I'd still be a hermit and you'd likely be dead, so, I think we owe quite a bit to them. I want Michelle to be considered a co-creator and Keagan a consultant or executive producer."

"But neither one has any experience in the industry."

"Exactly, they aren't tainted by its ills."

Liam smirked. Bea always knew just what to say to counteract his points. He sighed as he waited for his coffee to brew, and looked at the two women in his apartment. He knew he didn't have a choice. Instead he just sighed and nodded.

"Then I guess we're doing this. I'll have to dig out some of my nicer clothes," Liam said.

                                                                                             ***

Keagan was upset, but she didn't want to say it.

As she watched Lexi cut a sandwich into pieces, Keagan wanted so badly to just stand upright from the table she was seated at and shout that she was angry, but her reasoning for being angry was so stupid, she thought, that she couldn't fathom actually doing such a thing. Lexi turned from the counter and brought the finger sandwiches back to the table, setting them down in the middle before bringing them each a glass of carrot juice to go with it.

"I think I eat a lot healthier with you around, that's for sure," Keagan said, "Doesn't help that I'm too broke to pay for fast food though."

"It's good to eat well. Gives you more energy," Lexi said, seating herself and taking a sandwich, "besides," she added, "I like cooking. I always wanted to maybe be a chef of some kind of something. It was a hobby I always really enjoyed, and I especially like it when others appreciate what I've made."

"Well, I certainly appreciate you making food, because I suck at it," Keagan said, "I could burn water."

Lexi laughed loudly as she popped her sandwich into her mouth and chewed. Keagan liked making her laugh, that she couldn't deny. As she watched Lexi lift up the newspaper and read, Keagan started to feel a bit better. She had to admit, domesticity was nice, and certainly far better than the loneliness she had experienced beforehand. Lexi also would agree; no longer living with her mother and sister, she was thrilled to be living with someone she felt truly enjoyed her company.

"I think...I have to say-" Keagan started, but Michelle walked in through the side door of the kitchen, smiling at them.

"I've had an interesting day," she said, putting her canister and cannula in the corner before looking at Keagan and saying with a grin, "How'd you like to work in television?"

                                                                                              ***

Sitting in the pizzeria after the meeting, Bea, Michelle, Liam and Keagan were enjoying a pizza pie and soda. Laughing and eating, it was like having a real family, Michelle thought. Liam sipped his soda and smacked his lips, exhaling.

"God, I'm so glad I stopped drinking," Liam said, "I mean, sure, it makes eating out kind of bland, but I recognize it's better for my health."

"So what is it like, working in show business?" Michelle asked.

"Well, you'll both get regular paychecks, for starters," Bea said, "Much higher than whatever you're making now is, I guarantee that much. Plus, Michelle, health insurance. That alone should cut your living costs drastically, not to mention make you even less reliant on your mother for financial support."

Michelle's lip quivered, she wanted to cry, but she held it back and waited for Bea to finish.

"And Keagan, this will help get your foot in the door to do more work on this type. I know you've always been fascinated by lost media and whatnot, and this could easily get you access to vaults worth of forgotten content to discover."

"That sounds amazing," Keagan said.

"Who knows, if things go well enough, perhaps you'll even be given the chance to do your own show all about lost media," Bea said, "Lord knows upping the intelligence of the public in regards to the arts is certainly a worthy and valiant effort."

"I'm scared I won't know what to do," Michelle said, finishing her slice and wiping her mouth on her napkin.

"Just stick with Liam and I and we'll navigate you through all of this, okay?" Bea asked, rubbing her back and smiling, "Don't worry, we won't let you get lost in the shuffle. You're the heart of this thing. If people see you're passionate about something, it gives them the illusion that it matters, and they become passionate too. You're passionate about the show. About the dog. Others have been proven to follow that lead already."

Michelle nodded and smiled. She loved Bea so deeply, but she was also afraid to attach herself to something so iconic, of getting too close and witnessing the evils it could produce. After all, if things had gone wrong once...

...who's to say they couldn't go wrong again?

                                                                                                 ***

Sitting in her hospital bed as a little girl, staring up at the TV screen and watching Bea sing a song, Michelle had forgotten all about the fact that her mother hadn't come to see her in days. Secretly she wished Beatrice Beagle could be her mother, and when she napped, she often had dreams about such a thing. Being with Beatrice, even just on the television, made Michelle feel as though she were cared for after all, and that she should get better because Bea would be proud of her for doing so.

When she came home, she continued to watch the show every day. Sitting on the floor in front of the television in their living room, often while her parents yelled at one another in their bedroom at the back of the house, Michelle was capable of tuning all the negativity out and focusing instead of this dog who told her that she was important, and she did matter. Only when Beatrice went away did Michelle start to have problems believing such things, but only from time to time. Deep down she internalized the things Bea had taught her on the show, and felt she deserved better. Felt she deserved more.

When she finally moved out - albeit into a home rented by her mother - she thought "Wow, if only Beatrice Beagle could see me now!"

Sometimes all we need in life is one person, imaginary or otherwise, to help us help ourselves.

                                                                                                   ***

"I can't believe you're doing this," Lawrence said, sitting in his office chair as Stephanie made herself a drink and then came and sat beside him; he stirred the ice in his cup and shook his head, chuckling, "Like, you realize often internet numbers don't match up with traditional media, right? Sure, people clamor online for something, and sometimes they even get something to come back in a reboot or an uncancellation, but rarely do those very same people follow through on the promise of actually supporting it once it's back on air."

"I know, but I think this is different. This is something children can connect with," Stephanie said, "Children are online more than adults, especially younger children. Parents don't wanna take care of their kids, they use devices to do the babysitting for them, and the tablet is the television. Everyday I see articles about how much screentime kids spend on sites like Youtube, just watching, aimlessly, for hours, in a trance. I think, with a built in recognition factor, we could have that very same audience. Think about it...we craft it as a forgotten icon, someone who was hurt by traditional media, someone who - like most of the young people today - was against capitalism and thus capitalism was used against her. They'll relate to that. They'll find her persistence admirable."

"I think I see where you're going with this."

"Right," Stephanie said, taking a sip, "so we build on that. 'Hey, we're the new way to engage in content, and we won't hurt them this time!' and people will believe it. Streaming services are said to be the new frontier, which we all know is bullshit. I mean, we have no advertisers, and our competitors pale in comparison when faced with our original output. We're the folks who say 'yeah, forget traditional television, come to us! We'll let you do whatever!' but it's a ruse, because we'll only do that for as long as it's profitable to our brand, same as anyone else, but because we can just make something and put it out there with no bullshit behind it, that entices people into thinking we're the good guys."

"You're so negative towards your own work," Lawrence said, laughing as Stephanie pulled a grape off the small silver plate on his desk and ate it. She shrugged.

"Listen," she said, chewing, "I grew up watching traditional television. Weekly appointment water cooler TV, okay? That's why I know streaming is no different. Does it have pros? Certainly, but its cons are just as bad as traditional television and far outweigh the few pros it has over its aged out predecessor. Once it's a success - and it will be because parents follow their childrens interests - then we start producing merchandising and once that takes off, the show is secondary to the brand."

"I see how you got to be where you are today," Lawrence said, "You're smart as hell."

"You don't watch a lot of TV and not come away with something," Stephanie said, the two of them raising their glasses in toast to one another; "To Beatrice Beagle," she said.

"To Beatrice Beagle," Lawrence replied, and they drank.

                                                                                                 ***

When Michelle and Keagan got home that evening, Michelle soon found herself alone, thanks to Lexi's insistence that she and Keagan also go out to celebrate this new job offer. Michelle didn't mind, though, she was more than happy to be home alone. Lying on her bed, looking at the glow in the dark stars she'd stuck to the ceiling, she couldn't believe what had happened. How had she gone from being just a sick child in the hospital looking to a fursuited woman for guidance to now working with that very same woman?

Beatrice Beagle was going to get another chance to shine, another chance to be adored by kids all over, and Michelle was so proud to be able to say she was a big part of that chance. She smiled to herself as she pulled her blankets up to her neck and shut her eyes. Everything Bea had taught her as a kid had in fact paid off. She'd believed in herself and look at where she'd gotten. She was no longer just some poor sick kid, no, she was going to be someone in the entertainment industry, guided by the very woman whom she'd once shared an intimate hospital room with.

And Beatrice, after arriving home that night, immediately pulled out the suit.

She set it on the floor and looked at it. It would need some minor adjustments, a bit of maintenance, but overall it was still in tip top shape, she was proud to say. She took good care of the thing, even if it had been stored in her closet for all these years. Bea ran her hands along the head and felt the fur on the ears. God, she was going to have to spend hours in this stuffy costume yet again, but this time...this time she thought it'd be worth it. Unlike the first outing, this one was paved with good intentions, at least from her and Michelle's point of view, and she wouldn't let the same thing happen this time around that had happened to her and Liam the first time.

But most importantly, she thought about Beatrice, the actual dog, and how much she wanted the world to recognize how special she was.

And now maybe they would.
Published on
The theatre was quiet, aside from a bit of shuffling and some folks clearing their throats or rustling their pamphlets. Natasha was seated on a couch on the stage, but the lights were off, and nobody could see anything. She took a long, deep breath, then pressed a button on the earpiece attached to her head and whispered, "Let's go."

The lights blasted on, and suddenly she was bathed in warm light, now clearly visible to everyone in the theatre, as they all began to clap. Natasha smiled softly and waited a moment, before cupping her hands and looking out directly at everyone.

"Thank you for coming," she said into the headset mic, "I'm Natasha Simple, and welcome to my first live show. If you're here, it's likely because you're lost, confused or in need of help, but let me assure you that you're doing better than me, and I get paid for this schlock. Either way, like me, you're likely dissatisfied with your life and I can understand why. Life is, as a concept, extremely dissatisfying. I mean, let's face it, most of us, myself included, are never going to be wealthy, or fulfilled or even what society often considers 'happy', but I think that's the biggest lesson I've had to learn since my husband left...is that it's perfectly fine to not be those things, and it's sick to think it's wrong to think that way."

A smattering of applause made Natasha smile as she stood up and started pacing.

"I mean," she continued, "I'm supposed to see my divorce as a 'fresh start' or some shit, but it's not, it's an ending, and that's okay. It's okay to see things as endings, not new beginnings. Why do so many self help books praise the concept of closure, yet are afraid to see things as endings? You can't have it both ways. Either be afraid, or lie, but don't try and have your cake and eat it too. You just wind up with cake everywhere, making a mess, and life is messy enough, isn't it? So let's try to conquer the mess, shall we? Tonight, you and me. Together, we could maybe make something out of nothing."

Some more light applause, as up in the booth where Corrine was doing her job with the lights and sounds, Jay smirked. He sipped his hot coffee and sat down on a stool beside Corrine, crossing his legs.

"It's so good to see her be so headstrong," Jay said, "this has been such a weird year, and it's nice to see she hasn't lost any of her step."

"She's a rock, yes," Corrine said.

The door opened, and Sharla entered, eating out of a bag of banana chips. She nodded at Jay, who raised his coffee cup at her, as she sat herself on the couch in the back and stretched out, groaning.

"I just came from the gym, sorry I wasn't here sooner," she said.

"It's fine," Jay said, "She just started a few minutes ago, you haven't missed much."

"Where's her kid?" Sharla asked, and Jay turned to look at her.

"She's on her way with her aunt," Jay said, checking his watch, "and honestly they're later than you are, so don't feel bad."

                                                                                                 ***

Sitting in traffic, Noreen tapping her nails against her steering wheel, she couldn't help but think they should've left sooner. Violet, sitting in the passenger seat, wasn't saying anything but was instead chewing on her hair absentmindedly, with Courtney in the backseat, reading a book she'd brought with her to ease the awkward quiet. Finally, Noreen sighed and glanced at her niece.

"Well, I hope your mom doesn't hold it, you know, too harshly against us for being late," she said.

"She won't. She never holds, um, anything against me," Violet said, "She'd have to, like, pay attention to me before she did that."

This admittance surprised Courtney, who glanced up from her book, but didn't say anything.

"Why do you say that? You know she loves you," Noreen said.

"I know, and uh, and I...I love, um, her too, but, like...like she's so focused on fixing everyone elses problems, and never, um, ours, if that makes sense? I feel like, uh, like everyone else's problems are more important, or something, like, I don't know," Violet said, her voice trailing off to a whisper as she finished.

"Well, you should tell her that," Noreen said, "I'm sure she'd listen. She adores you. I know she's busy trying to help literally everyone, and that, ya know, it has to be, uh, frustrating, but still. You're her daughter. You'll always come first. That's what my parents taught me."

This made Courtney smile, but also feel bad. She didn't have a mom to help her feel good. She had her father, and he did his best, and they were best friends, but it wasn't the same. She was, honestly, jealous of the relationship Violet had with her mother.

"I couldn't ever say, like, anything mean to her," Violet said, "That'd make me mean, and I don't wanna, ya know, be, uh, be mean."

Courtney sighed and went back to reading, not having said a thing, but having taken it all in nonetheless.

                                                                                           ***

"You're all here because, like me, you've been forgotten in one manner or another," Nat said, "Whether it's by your family, your friends, or even yourself...you've gotten lost, somehow, in the mix and you don't know how to get back to the trail, but luckily for you, I'm a Forest Ranger, and together we can weather the wildness of the wilderness together to find our way back to camp. Was that a ridiculous thing to say? You betcha!"

Laughter rose from the crowd, making Nat chuckle herself as she adjusted her earpiece and continued.

"But, that being said, I do firmly believe in my ability to not just help you, but help you help yourself, and help myself in the process. That's the thing my husband didn't understand. So many people think you have to do everything by yourself, and, sure, a lot of things you do have to do by yourself. I won't deny that. But one of those things isn't suffering. You do NOT have to suffer alone. That's why I'm here. I am here to tell you that you are not alone in how you feel, and that I completely understand, because I suffer too. We all do. Really, our suffering is the one thing that binds us all completely together."

Nat crossed the stage and nervously fidgeted with the buttons on her shirt before exhaling and facing the crowd once again.

"We're all going to be left. We're all going to be left in one manner or another, whether our romantic partner leaves us or our parents eventually die, one way or another, we're going to be left. And that loss hurts tremendously, but it also brings us all so much closer, because we know we aren't alone in experiencing it."

The doors to the theatre opened, and Natasha saw Violet, Courtney and Noreen enter and silently take seats in the back. Nat smiled and felt her eyes tear up.

"My daughter is the single strongest person I know, and I draw all my strength from her. I never tell her this, much as I might want to, but I can easily tell a crowd full of strangers because I don't have to worry what you'll think about me. I don't know you guys. So let me tell you that our children, these people...these are the ones that help us through the most. I wouldn't be here today if it hadn't been for her. Her birth made me realize that I was capable of loving someone - selflessly and unabashedly - other than myself, more than myself. She's developmentally challenged, and yet she's the smartest person I know, and every day I feel like I don't even remotely match up to how much smarter she actually is than me, than all of us. To have to navigate a world not designed for you...that takes brains. Courage. Strength. And she has far more of all of those things than all of us combined."

Noreen and Courtney glanced at Violet who was trying not to smile, clearly feeling simultaneously embarrassed but also loved at that exact moment.

"I know it's cliche to say your child gives you purpose, but before her I was aimless. I didn't know what I wanted to do for a living," Natasha said, "and now I've spent the past decade trying to help all of you, because of her. You're all here to see me, you're all fans of me, but I'm her biggest fan. Don't take your strength from me, or what I say or think, take it from her. She's a better person than I could ever be, and she makes me strive every single day to be better, so I can help all of you. In hindsight, my husband leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me, because it forced me to realize what I was truly appreciative of....my daughter, and I couldn't have gotten here today without her."

Violet got up and ran out of the theatre, trying to hide her face, and neither Noreen or Courtney followed her. Jay, from up in the booth, saw this and quickly exited to catch her in the main foyer of the building. He found Violet pacing in the main hall, where she was both crying and laughing.

"Vi?" he asked, cautiously approaching her, touching her on the shoulder gently.

"Jay?" she asked, turning to see him.

"You okay? I'm sorry if that was embarrassing, but-"

Without warning, Violet threw herself into Jay, hugging him tight, surprising him completely. Violet rarely even gave hugs to her mother, but she really needed it he figured, so he hugged her back and let her cry against him.

"It's so much responsibility," she whined, "I love her, but, uh....but I feel, like, you know...so....um...responsible for her well being, and that's tiring."

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart," Jay said, stroking her hair, "but-"

"and," she continued, interrupting him, "I wanna make her proud, and I'm glad she finds strength in me, because I sure don't find strength in me."

Jay knew Violet suffered from self esteem issues, but it had never remotely occurred to him just how big those issues might just be until this very moment. It now dawned on him just how little she actually thought of herself. He knew that finding Noreen had made her a lot happier, finding some reasoning for being the way she was and not feeling as alone now, but even still...Jay sighed and walked with Violet to the velvet covered staircase, sitting down together. He pulled his cap off and ran his hands through his hair, exhaling deeply, shaking his head.

"...I love your mother," he said, "more than others do. I know there's, um, kind of an age gap but it isn't huge by any means. Either way, what I'm saying is that I've known you basically your whole life, and...and she isn't wrong. I know you still find it hard to accept being who you are, but you know, you aren't alone. I had a lot of trouble in school myself, and I know how you feel about not feeling as smart as the stock you came from, as smart as the peers around you. It can feel crushing."

"Dad just left," Violet said, no longer stammering, "he just left, and I'm supposed to be there for my mom when I'm barely able to be there for myself? I love her, and I'm glad she pulls strength from me, but I'm a kid! Dad never cared. He claims he did, but he didn't. He didn't care. If he'd cared, he would've stayed for me at least, or he would've seen me sooner, but he didn't."

"Well, I know I'm not your father, but I care," Jay said, making Violet look at him as he added, "and I know it'll never be the same, but-"

"You've been around more than my dad has. That makes you the better man and I'm glad you're in my moms life," Violet said.

Jay smiled, knowing he didn't have to say more. The silence between them said it all. They waited for the show to finish, and waited for Nat to join them, but eventually, as everyone filed out, Violet grew frustrated. She wanted to storm back into the auditorium and see what was taking her so long, but Jay just grabbed her arm and kept her there. Violet got it then. Her mother was once again doing something for someone. Someone other than her. And she would just have to get comfortable with sharing her mother with the world.

                                                                                              ***

Corrine was packing her backpack, wrapping up her headphones and other equipment to take back to her dorm, when the door opened and Natasha entered. Corrine turned and smiled at her, as Nat pulled the earpiece off and handed it to her. The women stood there, looking at one another, until Corrine finally nodded and pulled her backpack on over her shoulders and headed towards the door.

"Thank you," Nat said, "Seriously, I couldn't have done the show or this live event without your expertise. Thank you, Corrine."

"Don't mention it," Corrine said, "I'll see you next week."

"Wait," Nat said, sitting down and pulling out a bundle of paper from a briefcase, "sit down."

Corrine did as she was told, and the two women sat there on the couch together.

"What's going on?" Corrine asked.

"I pooled all the money we made from this event, and a lot of the money we made from subscriptions, merchandise and donations through the site this past year, and...and I put it all in one collected bank account. In your name."

Corrine just stared at her.

"What?" she asked.

"All the money, it's...it's for you. After that discussion we had, you know, about your parents...it didn't feel right to just not do anything about it, so I took all the money I made from my job this year and I put it into this account. Sharla and Jay agreed to give up their shares for this year, since we're all still doing somewhat okay, so we could give all this to you, and keep you afloat financially. I'm taking a break from the show for a bit to spend the summer with my daughter. That being said, I won't have any need for your services until we return, so I got you a plane ticket and a nice hotel room on the islands, so you can go be with her, and you won't have to worry about your folks paying for your dorm because now you have more than enough money to pay for your schooling for a while."

Corrine couldn't believe her ears.

"What are you saying?" Corrine asked quietly.

"You're going to Hawaii for the summer, to be with your girl," Nat said, "Staying in a luxury suite, and you don't have to worry about affording your schooling when you get back. You said you were a fan of me, well I'm a fan of you, Corrine. What you've been put through, and yet you're still going, and that's so admirable. You wanted a parent, let me be that parent."

She handed Corrine the papers, and watched as Corrine sifted through them bit by bit, her eyes growing ever wider every few seconds. After she finished, she shut the envelope and looked at Natasha, then threw herself into her, hugging you tightly.

"Thank you," she cried, and Nat patted her back.

"It's no big thing," Nat said, laughing.

                                                                                           ***

Natasha got herself, Violet and Courtney fried chicken from a fast food place for dinner, and the three of them sat in the living room watching TV and eating, having a nice girls night in. After a while, the girls excused themselves to Violet's bedroom, leaving Nat all alone to watch TV and eat dessert by her lonesome, not that she minded. She wanted some alone time after that day. When Nat finally went to her bedroom around 11pm, she found Courtney staring in the hall bathroom mirror, trying to fix her hair, and Nat stopped and watched until Courtney noticed her.

"Oh, hi," Courtney said, "Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"It's no problem. Is Violet asleep?" Nat asked, and Courtney nodded.

"Yeah, she fell asleep pretty quickly after we went upstairs," Courtney said, "Your show was really good, Miss Simple."

"Courtney, can I talk to you?" Natasha asked, nodding down the hall, "in my bedroom?"

Courtney followed her, shutting the bathroom light off, and when they arrived in Nat's room, she shut the door and sat down on the bed. Courtney was afraid she'd done something wrong, and felt nervous. Natasha exhaled, and looked at her feet.

"...your father came to me a while ago," Nat said, "said business wasn't as great as it once was, that things were getting tighter money wise, and uh, and of course I know all about your mom. I mean, in the sense that she's not here anymore. Then Violet told me about, you know...you, and what you've been going through, becoming who you are, and I just thought to myself 'wow, women have it hard enough already, but this girl's gotta be having the worst time of any of us' because, it's bad enough to be a woman and get shit solely for that, but to be in your situation, that has to attract a lot of unwanted attention and that...I'm just in awe, honestly, and I'm so glad you're my daughters friend because...because it's good for her to have role models to show that other young women like herself, who fall outside the societal category of 'normal' or whatever, are honestly the strongest women there are."

Courtney wanted to cry. She sat down in a chair and watched as Natasha reached behind her on the bed and pulled a suitcase to her lap, opening it.

"I gave most of the money from this year to my editor, but since your father and I ran into eachother, I've been saving up, and hopefully after this next year, if things continue to go as well for me, between the two of us, we can afford to get you what you want. I think if we pool our funds together, we could afford the surgeries."

Courtney went white as a sheet.

"you...you'd do that for me?" she asked quietly, trying not to cry.

"Yeah, of course. Absolutely. Every women, regardless of their sexuality or their gender or their intellectual capacity, deserves to be happy and respected," Natasha said, "...so yeah, of course I would. I know you lost your mom, and I can't imagine what that's like, but I'm always here, if you need a motherly figure. We'll get you what you want, okay? I promise."

Courtney stood up and hugged Natasha, sobbing against her. Natasha smiled and stroked Courtney's long blonde hair, feeling like maybe now Courtney wouldn't feel so alone, just like Corrine. Courtney eventually pulled herself away and sat down beside Nat, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"...I miss her so much," Courtney said, "and...thank you. Thank you for being there."

"Of course," Nat said, "I know what it's like to be left."

                                                                                               ***

The bell above the door rang, and Noreen looked around to spot Natasha coming in and seating herself at the small round table in the corner. Noreen had already ordered coffee for them both, and was eating from a box of donuts.

"Thanks for inviting me," Natasha said.

"I figured it was important for us to get to know one another," Noreen said, "So, did you do what you wanted? Did it go over well?"

"It went over great, actually," Nat said, picking a donut out for herself and sipping her coffee, "I figured everyone else in my life deserved to get a gift, since I got one."

Noreen raised an eyebrow.

"You got a gift?"

"I got a sister," Natasha said, making Noreen laugh.

And for the first time in over two years....things really were simple again.
Published on

The alarm went off and Zoe groaned. She rolled over and put her hand on it, turning it off again before rolling back over and sighing. She felt an arm slump around her and pull her close, and she smiled. She could smell Effie's shampoo, and it made her feel safe. It was quiet outside, and Zoe felt like she could stay in this bed the whole day, until she realized this was it, this was the anniversary of The Forgotten Tomb. God, had it really been a whole month already? Where had the time gone?


                                                                         ***


   30 DAYS PRIOR


Allie was sitting at a slot on the main floor of the Card Shark, putting coin after coin into it, when she felt a stool being dragged up beside her. She turned and looked to her side, surprised to see Molly of all people sitting down beside her, eating a churro.


"What are you doing here?" Allie asked.


"Getting my nerves up for the opening," Molly mumbled, "I just...I'm terrified. What if something goes wrong?"


"What could possibly go wrong at this point? It's already built. It isn't like someone's going to die during construction," Allie said.


"Well what if one of the wings hovering over the road collapses because it was rushed and not properly attached and it falls on a busload of special ed children on their way to visit an orphanage?" Molly asked, making Allie look at her with a smirk on her face.


"Wow," Allie said, "you're really good at coming up with absolutely bullshit scenarios."


"It could happen!" Molly said, taking a bite from her churro.


"When has that ever happened, except for that one time at The Prospector?" Allie asked, making Molly look at her in shock; Allie continued, "oh yeah, you never heard about that? That exact thing happened, verbatim, and it was horrible. The parents of all the kids killed themselves, and then the orphanage caught on fire thanks to an arsonist who lost their child in the bus and blamed the orphanage for their loss."


Allie looked back at Molly, who was staring at her in annoyance now, and Allie began to laugh.


"You're meeeean," Molly whined and Allie patted her on the shoulder.


"Come on, you're a professional, you didn't do a slipshod job, alright? It's fine, everything's going to be fine," Allie said, "Now, take this glass of coins and keep piling them into this machine, cause I'm going to order a thing of nachos from the bar."


Allie scooted her stool out and walked to the bar, only to find Zoe already there, drinking a soda. Allie seated herself beside Zoe and sighed.


"Well, we have a few hours before we have to get ready," Allie said, "How you feeling?"


"I'm feeling....nervous, but, ya know, that's probably normal. I just want it to be over," Zoe said, taking a sip, "...is the stuff already there?"


"Yeah. I took it all over there last night and put it in my presentation area. The tomb is sealed tight, remember? Nobody can open that son of a bitch if they tried," Allie said, "so there's no real worry about someone discovering it beforehand. Plus we packed the inside with preservatives so it's not like, you know, any smell is going to be noticeable."


"...I can't believe we're going to get away with this," Zoe whispered, "it feels so wrong."


"I know, I know it does, but hey, like I've said, we didn't have a choice," Allie said, "Sunny was a bad man, perhaps not the worst guy in the world, but he kept me hooked far longer than I should've been just because he made the drugs so easily accessible that it felt like an effort to actually quit."


"You're going to your meetings, right?" Zoe asked.


"Yep," Allie said, "Haven't had a drink or a pill in weeks. It's...been tough, hah, not gonna lie, but I'm doing it."


"I'm proud of you," Zoe said, smiling, surprising Allie.


"Th...thanks, I'm proud of you too," Allie said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need some lunch. Gonna get me some nachos."


                                                                           ***


Allie and Zoe drove over to the new Card Shark later that afternoon. Allie was planning to meet Nick there, seeing as he'd agreed to bring over the fireworks for the ending of the show. In the car, Zoe was nervous, pulling on her hair a little, while Allie chewed on gum.


"You want some gum?" Allie asked, "it always helps me when I feel antsy. Gives me something to do."


"No thanks," Zoe said, "I don't like gum. Too much effort for something that isn't actually edible."


"Fair enough."


They pulled to a red light, only a few minutes away from the casino. Allie turned the radio down and lit up a cigarette, rolling down her window so she could blow the smoke out and not bother Zoe, not that Zoe had ever made a fuss about it before, but Allie was being polite nonetheless. Sitting there, Zoe felt a knot in her stomach, and she looked at her fingernails, painted salmon.


"I have to tell you something," Zoe said, "if we're going to be partners, and friends, and criminals together-"


This made Allie chuckle.


"-then you should know that I...I started seeing someone," Zoe said, "...romantically."


"Oh yeah?"


"It's Effie," Zoe said.


"Really? Wow. I wouldn't have pegged you for a lesbian," Allie said, "but hey, that's cool, I'm happy for you! So long as she treats you nice and you're enjoying yourself, then more power to you. I'm certainly not one to judge anyone for who they love. In fact, I'm the last person in the world who should be judgemental, really."


Zoe looked down at her nails again and smiled. She could never tell her parents that she was in a same sex relationship, but she felt glad to be able to tell Allie. She knew Allie would never judge her for something so normal. As they pulled up to the back of the casino, they saw Nick leaning against his car in a leather jacket and jeans, with a button down collared shirt, smoking his own cigarette. Allie parked and climbed out of her car and looked at him.


"Hey look Zoe," she said, "it's The Fonz."


Nick smiled and tossed his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out before approaching her.


"You got our stuff, right?" she asked.


"Yeah, it's in my trunk. Really small but really powerful explosives," Nick said.


"Thank you," Allie said, walking over to the trunk and lifting it open, asking "So, how're things?"


"They're alright. Just trying to get by day by day. You sound good. You don't smell like alcohol, which I have to admit, is oddly confusing to miss," Nick said, making Allie laugh.


"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you get sober I guess. You and Jenny doing okay?"


"Jenny? Why would we-"


"I heard her on the phone with you," Allie said, turning from the trunk to face him.


"Yeah, we were trying to get you a pass to see Domino," Nick said, "Believe me, Jenny isn't interested in me. Nor am I in here. I mean, she's cute, but. She's..."


Allie and Nick looked at one another, until Nick looked at the ground and scratched the back of his head.


"...she's not you," Nick said softly, making Allie's eyes tear up. She approached him and took his hands in hers, kissing them and pushing her face against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and could hear his voice crack when he spoke again, saying, "...it's been so hard without you. It's been calm, but...boring."


"I've missed you so much," Allie whispered, "All I wanted to hear for the last few months was that you still loved me."


"Of course I do," Nick whispered back, "I'm happy to hear you're getting help. If there's anyway I can help in that-"


Allie leaned up and kissed him, to which he didn't resist one bit. Watching as she unloaded the fireworks, Zoe couldn't help but smile. Seems like everything had come full circle. Like everything had worked out in the end after all. They'd hide their crime, Allie and Nick would get back together, and everyone would be successful at what they did career wise. Nothing could stop them now. By the time the show rolled around that night, and the girls were ready to perform, Zoe no longer felt nervous. She felt...excited. Even though she knew, in the back of her mind, that this trick was partially to hide a murder committed seemingly in her name, she was overjoyed to finally be doing a real big show with her hero, her partner, her best friend.


And as she watched the fake tomb be lowered into the base of the building, to be sealed away and never seen again, Zoe couldn't help but smile. All Allie had needed in the end was a friend, someone willing to go that extra mile to help her, and she'd gotten it and Zoe, in return, had gotten someone who finally had her best interests at heart. As the fireworks exploded above the stage, and Allie appeared out of the other tomb - the one the audience thought was the one she'd been lowered in - and cheers erupted, Zoe finally felt like she'd achieved her lifes goal.


All she'd ever wanted was to do magic by the side of Allie Meers.


Turns out it was worth it after all.


                                                                         ***


             30 DAYS LATER


"What, you're not coming tonight?" Allie asked on the phone.


"I can't," Molly said, "I have book club, sorry. Hopefully that doesn't throw your plans off."


"Naw, I'll still have Nick and Zoe and Effie, it's fine. Just wanted to see you," Allie said as she stirred her straw in her drink in the kitchenette of her new suite while Nick finished making a snack platter behind her on the counter; she finished with, "I guess I'll see you sometime this week for bowling."


"Absolutely!" Molly said.


Allie and Molly said their goodbyes and respectively hung up, leaving Allie to turn around and look at Nick, who smiled at her as he cut some cheese and placed them on crackers with slivers of fish.


"Awww, look at my little house husband," she said.


"Shut up," he muttered, chuckling as she walked to him and kissed his cheek; after the kiss broke he asked, "When's Zoe and Effie getting here?"


"Should be here anytime now," Allie said, checking her watch, "Probably making out in the parking lot."


"Nice," Nick said, making Allie laugh.


When Zoe and Effie finally did arrive - and subsequently admit that, yes, they were in fact making out in the parking lot - everyone gathered to give a toast to everyones varied success, and all were drinking non alcoholic drinks to support Allie's sobriety. Nick cooked them dinner, a ham and a duck, along with mashed potatoes and asparagus, and as the girls seated themselves, Allie couldn't help but feel at peace.


"It's been a long weird year," Allie mumbled as Zoe nodded.


"Indeed it has, but it paid off, we're in the new casino, we're a big draw, you're doing better numbers than you've done in ages, partially thanks to my excellence-" Zoe said, making Allie chuckle as she finished with, "-but all in all it was worth it. All that turmoil, tribulation, all that trouble...it was really hard but it was worth it in the end, and I think that's a pretty positive way to look at life right now."


"I'm doing so many shows a week it's unbelievable. I guess Tony really did figure out the best possible spot for a more upperclass casino," Effie said as Nick cut some duck off for her and scooted it onto her plate; she added, "and that girl he got to design the place, wow, she did an excellent job."


"Molly? Yeah, she's awesome," Allie said, "She called and apologized for not being able to be here."


"That's a shame," Nick said, "I wanted to talk to her about renovating my grandparents home."


"I'm sure she'd be interested in doing something less commercial for a change," Allie said.


Nick seated himself after serving everyone else, and together they all got ready to eat, but Zoe interrupted them and stood up, holding up a glass of sparkling apple cider. She looked around and cleared her throat.


"I just wanna say that I am so grateful to be here," she said, "Almost a year ago I was...I was nobody. I was terrified I wouldn't find a place where I would fit in, or make any friends, and then I was assigned to work with Allie, and while it was touch and go at first, uh, it has ultimately proven to be worthwhile. She's the best friend, and mentor, I ever could've asked for, and she allowed me to work at the casino where I was able to meet someone who really showed me I was worth loving."


She glanced down at Effie, who blushed and covered her face, making Allie and Nick laugh. Zoe continued.


"All I ever wanted to do was magic, I was obsessed with magic, and my parents hated me for it. But it's all Allie ever wanted to do too, and I think we understand that about one another, and I think that's why we work so well together is our commitment to such an underrated and often written off field of entertainment and artistry. Magic isn't just a bunch of card tricks or something, it's also a way to create the illusion of something out of nothing, and that's what it's done for my life. I had nothing, and now I have something. So thank you, Allie Meers, for letting me be your friend, and your partner."


Allie nodded, and hugged Zoe.


"Thank you for sticking by me," Allie whispered into her ear, "Nobody ever did."


"Don't you worry, I'm not going anywhere," Zoe whispered back, "Besides, we have it all now. What could possibly change things?"


Little did they know that, while they ate and celebrated, deep down in the base of the casino, under the concrete and the dirt and the metal, where The Forgotten Tomb was lying, a cell phone was beginning to ring. It rang and rang, because nobody could answer it, and when it finally stopped ringing, the man on the other end of the line was frustrated.


He sighed and hung up his office phone, turning around in his chair and looking out the large window as the door opened behind him and a woman entered.


"Mr Sykes?" she asked, "Sir? Were you able to get a hold of him?"


"No. I'm starting to get worried. We've lost contact before, usually when he goes on benders, but never for this long. Elizabeth, I want you to draft up a public response, a uh...a sort of Missing Persons report, if you will, and in a while, if things don't get better, I'll go public with my plea to get help to find him. He's a drug addict, but he's my son, and I love him. I need to know he's okay."


"Yes sir Mr. Sykes," his secretary said, as she started to exit the room, before stopping and adding, "Oh, and there's another phone call on the line for you."


"Thank you Liz," he said, waiting for her to leave the room before picking it up, "Hello? Hi honey. No I just tried again, but still no answer. It's ringing though, so that's hopeful. If it were going straight to voice mail, I'd be more worried. Don't fret, we'll find him, we always do. Besides, I have a lot of power to use if I want to put that much effort behind this. I am a senator for the state, after all."

Published on
How had they gotten here?

Sitting at this table across from her once beloved husband, Natasha couldn't believe she was about to nullify their marriage. Stephen was staring at the table, and wouldn't even look up at her, which made Nat all the more angry. Their lawyers weren't in the room - they said they'd give the couple a bit to say whatever they had to - and would reenter once they were ready to sign the papers. Natasha exhaled and leaned back, crossing her arms and tossing her bangs from her eyes.

"I just need to know why," Nat said, "That's it. I'll sign it, I don't care to salvage something like this, but before I allow us to get on with our lives, I need to know why. And don't tell me there's no reason, there's always a reason."

"I...I mean, yeah, there's a reason," Stephen said, "but you probably don't want to hear it."

"It's that bad?" Nat asked, whispering as she leaned over the table a bit.

"I wouldn't call it bad, but you would," Stephen said, "I don't know, maybe you wouldn't. You only ever see the good in people."

"That's not at all true, trust me," Nat replied, "It can't be worse than anything I've done or felt this past year."

Stephen sighed and stood up, running his hands through his hair as he began pacing in the room. Nat leaned back in her chair, putting her feet up on the table, crossing her arms again as she watched and waited for whatever it was Stephen was trying to find the right words to say.

"I don't...I don't know how to say this without sounding selfish," he finally said, "because, like, I wanted you to be successful, and I supported what you did, and I could see all the good it brought people and brought even to yourself. And yet, I felt like you ignored me. I know that's not the most original reason but, you went out to help everyone else, but you never thought about helping me. We were supposed to be a team, but I didn't fit into your world anymore, and it made me feel lost and confused."

"...that's...fair, yeah," Natasha said, "I mean, you're absolutely right to feel that way. I did get really invested in it, and ignored you, yeah. I won't deny that. But maybe if you had told me that instead of letting it fester inside you-"

"I did tell you that," Stephen said, surprising her.

"What? Wh-when?"

"At Violet's birthday, the year before I left," Stephen said, "I told you while we were in the kitchen, alone, and sure, it probably wasn't the right time, but I couldn't deal with it anymore, and so I told you and you said we would deal with it, and work at it, and then nothing ever came of it. Your sister found me crying in the backyard after that, and we started talking, and I realized she...she was far more open than you ever said you were. I think, after a point, being open to you became more of a character trait then an actual personality trait. You became the Nat you played on television, not the Nat I knew, and the Nat you played on television had no hang ups, had no family, all she had was good intentions, and Violet and myself suddenly were dead weight."

"That isn't true at all! I loved Violet, I love Violet, she's my entire world!" Nat said, standing up now herself and glaring at Stephen as she continued, "and sure, maybe I let what I was doing get in the way of my home life, but...but..."

Stephen stared at her, and realized tears were forming in her eyes.

"...I don't think we were ever supposed to be together," Nat said, surprising him.

"What?" he asked, half laughing in shock.

"I think...I think we married way too young, and...and then with Violet, it was like, well, this is what you do, you make a family, and sure we had things in common, but certainly not our aspirations for what we wanted out of life in the long run. And maybe all of this could've been easier to accept had it not been my own sister you shacked up with."

"Yeah, that...that probably sucked," Stephen said, leaning against the wall, sighing, "I'm really sorry, Nat, about everything happening the way it did. I should've just told you I was tired and wanted out, but even then it would've been painful."

"Not half as painful as what you did, I'll tell you that right now," Nat said, seating herself again, adding, "okay, I'm willing to take a good portion of the blame. Sure. My attention was divided, unfairly so, and I didn't listen enough to the people I should've...my family. But I need you to admit something to me before I sign this."

"What is that?"

"I need you to tell me you love me," Nat said, sniffling, "I know it sounds stupid, and I know we're not getting back together, and I know that it probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense after everything that's happened, but I really need to hear you say it."

Stephen smiled and approached the table, sitting down again and reaching across, taking Nat's hands in his own.

"I'm always going to love you, Natty," Stephen said, "even after everything, I'm never not going to love you, even if we're not together. You're the mother of my child, and even if we hadn't had a baby, I....I don't think I could ever not love you. You're such a good person, and I admire you so deeply for that. So yes, I will always love you, in some way or another."

Nat smiled as Stephen reached up and wiped the tears away from her face. Her fingers fumbled with the pen on the table as she picked it back up and pressed it to the paper.

"I'm sorry," Stephen whispered, "I really am."

"I am too," Nat said, as she signed her name, and then slid the paper to Stephen and handed him the pen, watching as he signed his own name. After they finished they sat there staring at one another, until the door opened and their respective lawyers reentered the room. After everything had been taken care of, Stephen and Natasha walked outside the room and stopped in the hall of the courthouse, staring at one another; Stephen's hands in his coat pockets, Nat's hands under her coat slung on her arms.

"Well," she finally said, "I guess I should get on my way. I'm setting up for my live show. You gonna come?"

"Would you want me to? Wouldn't it be awkward?" Stephen asked.

"Naw, it's fine," Nat said, waving her hand at him, "it'll be fine. Besides, I likely won't even see you in the crowd, so who cares. Besides, Violet's gonna be there, so she'll probably appreciate seeing you."

"She hasn't really seemed to enjoy the time we've spent together, so I don't know how true that would be," Stephen said, "but sure, I'll drop by. We'll drop by."

Nat wrapped her arms around Stephen and held him close, as he did with her. He smelled her hair, and remembered a time when he could get lost in her fragrance, a time that was all but lost to him now. She still smelled nice, but it didn't ignite anything in him now like it once had. After the hug broke, each one departed for their car in the parking lot. After watching Stephen drive away, Natasha turned her car on and sat there for a brief moment, trying not to cry. It was official. She was divorced. After all this time, she was finally separated from that part of her life, and she could begin to make a new part of her life. A better part. A part with less pain. A part with a real future, a real show, a real family. With Violet, with her friends...with Jay.

And suddenly things didn't seem so scary after all.

                                                                                              ***

Corrine was seated at the sound board table in the upper area of the arena, fiddling with settings, when the door opened and Nat entered. Corrine pulled her headphones down around her neck and looked up, surprised to see her. Corrine checked her watch.

"I...I thought you weren't coming until later," she said, sounding flustered.

"Well, it didn't take as long as I had thought it would," Nat said, "What are you doing here? I thought you were still working on-"

"I finished," Corrine said, "After our little spat, I finished quite easily, so I decided to come right over here and start getting things set up for the live show this weekend."

"Oh, well okay, cool, thanks," Natasha said as she took her coat off and collapsed onto the couch. Corrine turned around in her rolling chair, looking at Nat.

"Um, are you okay? I've never been married, so I've never been divorced so I...I don't really have any, uh, you know, experience in dealing with this sort of stuff and besides I've only really had one relationship and it wasn't even really a real relationship so I don't know that that counts but-"

"Corrine," Nat asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah?"

"...thanks for believing in me," Natasha said, "...thanks for being one of those people who just blindly believed in what I wanted to do and was willing to help me do it. I don't think I could've pulled this whole thing off without your input. Your expertise as an editor. And, uh, I'm sorry about that fight. I shouldn't have questioned you. You were right. I hired you to do the best job, and I shouldn't have gotten in the way."

This surprised Corrine, as she hadn't expected someone so attached to their project to admit they were wrong.

"It...it's okay, it's okay, really, um, I understand," Corrine said.

"I guess, when you annul your marriage, you sort of realize you can't be right all the time, even if you've made a career out of giving people what you assume to be solid advice," Natasha said, finally sitting upright on the sofa, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her chin on them, saying, "...you've never had a relationship?"

"Well, I mean, kind of, it's complicated," Corrine said, blushing, "I...I don't really wanna, ya know, bore you with it or anything."

"You won't."

"...it was someone I grew up knowing, and...and we don't know eachother anymore. They moved away. I...I was gonna...they asked me to move with them, but my parents said I wouldn't be able to finish school if I did."

"Why? Couldn't you just transfer your courses?"

"Uh, yeah, but they wouldn't pay for it if I went with this person," Corrine said, looking embarrassed.

"...oh, I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No, it's...it's fine. We all lose the people we think we're supposed to be with, but I guess we wind up with other people we're supposed to be with, right? You lost your husband, I lost my....person....but here we are, making something together."

Natasha stood up and walked over to the chair, kneeling in front of it and looking at her.

"...why would they not want you to-"

"I don't...really wanna talk about it, okay?"

"Okay, I'm...I'm sorry. I just...as a parent, I can't imagine telling my child they couldn't be with someone they love, I mean, unless they were a predator or something," Nat said, "but it's okay, we don't have to talk about it. I'm going to run down to the snack machine and get some bags of chips and cookies and whatnot, maybe some sodas, you want anything?"

Corrine shook her head. Natasha stood up, wiped her pants off and headed to the door, opening it before hearing Corrine's chair squeaking as it turned to face the door. Nat stopped and looked back.

"You're a good mom," Corrine said, "...Violet is lucky, because...we don't all get good moms. I didn't...their name was Katherine. She gave me that glass turtle, remember? The one you saw in my dorm? We...we were friends growing up, and..."

"Oh," Nat said, everything suddenly clicking in her head, "oh god, I'm so sorry. Your parents shouldn't-"

"It doesn't matter," Corrine said, rubbing her nose on her sweater sleeve, "they already did, and it's over. It's easier to just stay hidden than lose everything."

"No, no Corrine, that's...you want a mom who will accept you? I can be that mom," Nat said, "I mean, that motherly figure, and you don't have to live under their thumb anymore. Don't do what I did. Don't make the mistake of doing something just because it's what others expect you to do. Don't get me wrong, I loved Stephen, but we probably wouldn't have stayed together if we hadn't...anyway, you don't have to stay hidden."

"I need to get back to work," Corrine said, spinning her chair back around, facing the monitors and sound board once again, as Nat stood up and exited the room. As she wandered into the hallway, she stumbled into Jay, coming in with a cardboard thing full of coffee cups.

"Hey!" he said, leaning in and kissing her cheek, "I'm surprised you're here! I ran out to get us all coffee, but I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so."

"...I need your help," Nat said.

"With what?"

Natasha just smiled.
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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.