Chapter Four

Beatrice:

I'm walking down a dim-lit hallway.

The sources of light are coming from the flames that are burning on torches and giant candles.

The walls are made with stone but the floor that I'm walking on is made out of marble.

I must be walking down this hallway for a reason.

I don't know what my reason is but I'm still going to walk down the hallway until I figure out my reason and find a way to get out.

Now I'm beginning to notice something about the candles and torches that are behind me.

The flames are going out by themselves.

That's really odd.

There are no windows in this hallway and so far, I haven't seen any air-conditioning vents and that tells me that something else is making those flames go out by themselves.

I have a feeling that somebody is responsible for making me think that the flames are going out by themselves.

Could it be a security guard? A ninja? How about—?

Now, I'm hearing…music.

Slow guitar music.

It sounds like…an instrumental version of…Julie London's Cry Me A River.

I think that's right but I'm not entirely sure.

Now the flames are glowing a brighter glow…and I can see a semi-circular wooden door with giant rustic door knockers.

The hallway behind me is now really dark and I can't see thing in the pitch black abyss.

That's not the only problem.

There are three candles and two torches left and it's getting a little hard for me to see.

Okay, something is telling me to walk to the door…and I'm doing that right now.

As I walked closer and closer to the door, the music grew louder and louder.

I'm tempted to turn around and go back to where I started.

I know that I can't enter a room if there's a stranger in there.

If I walk into a room and there's a stranger, then I'm asking for trouble and consequences.

Unfortunately, since I've walked too far from where I started, the hallway's too dark for me to see and there's probably no way that the other candles and torches are going to light up again to guide me back to my starting point.

I sighed.

"Maybe the only way for the candles and torches to light up again is open up the door, walk into the room, find out what's in the room, and leave." I said to myself. "Yeah, that might work."

As soon as I approached the door, I reached for the door knocker, grabbed it, and pulled it upward a little bit.

Then, I carefully knocked on the door with the door knocker.

A few seconds later, a voice from behind the door said,

"Come in."

I blinked twice in confusion.

That voice sounded familiar.

Could it be…?

Might as well find out right now.

I pulled on the door knocker and the door opened up with a gentle smooth swing.

A gust of cold escaped from behind the door and it blew out the fire from the remaining candles and torches.

Thankfully, there was light in the room that was hidden behind the door.

I took a deep breath and walked into the room as I closed the door behind me.

My eyes widened in awe and curiosity.

The room that I just walked in to had walls that were grayish-blue color and the ceiling was white.

The floor was made of black shiny marble and it was so shiny that I can kind of see my reflection.

"Whoa." I whispered.

As I looked at the several pictures and objects that were scattered around the room and either in glass display boxes or lying on the floor, my eyes widened in recognition after realizing that the pictures and objects were parts of my past.

What kind of pictures?

Well, the pictures that I'm seeing right now are pictures of me when I was a little kid, vacation days with Dad and Tommy, and days when I had to dance after dance practice.

What kind of objects?

Overalls that I wore when I was six, shoes that I've worn in the past, my grandfather's mayonnaise jar full of pennies and quarters, and New York souvenir spoon that Tommy gave me when he went to New York for a school trip.

Could this room that I'm in be room of my memories?

It's a possibility.

But I heard a voice telling me to come in to this room a couple of minutes ago…and that tells me that I'm not the only one in here.

I'm going to look for that person—

...

I slowly came to my senses when I heard—

"Beatrice. Beatrice. Wake up, dormilón."

—Greasy.

Even with my eyes closed, I blinked.

As I did that, I groaned in exhaustion.

"What time is it?" I asked sleepily.

"It's a little after eleven o'clock." Greasy replied.

"Eleven o'clock? Wow, I must be really tired."

"And you slept through the whole movie."

"I did?"

Greasy nodded.

"Nah, I don't have to worry about that." I shrugged. "I've seen the movie several times…so I don't have to worry about the parts that I've missed."

"That's good." Greasy said.

My attention was caught by something green covering my body like a blanket.

It's Greasy's coat.

And I specifically remember resting my chin on my hand, not lying down on Cressida's couch with Greasy's coat covering my body.

"It was getting really cold in this room." Greasy explained. "I didn't want you to get cold so I thought of letting you borrow my coat for a little bit."

"You didn't have to do that but…thank you." I replied as I sat up and handed Greasy his coat.

After Greasy grabbed his coat, I rubbed my eyes and looked around the living room.

It's practically empty.

Psycho, Stupid, Wheezy, Smarty, Tommy, Cressida, and Penny were in this room and…now it's just me and Greasy.

"Where did everybody go?" I asked.

"Wheezy, Stupid, Psycho, and Smarty left," Greasy replied. "Penny's sleeping in her bedroom, Tommy's going to the bathroom, and Cressida is putting the movie away."

I nodded.

"How did you like the movie?" I asked.

"Sinceramente, it was amazing and unusual." Greasy said as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out…a container of hair grease and a comb. "I liked the part when the guy with the scissor hands was sculpting that ice statue and the girl was dancing under the flakes of ice."

"That's a really famous scene."

"There was one part that I didn't understand."

"What was it?"

As Greasy started to add a lot of hair grease on his hair, he explained,

"There was this part when an old man was about to give the guy with scissor hands regular human hands and as he let the scissor hands guy look at the regular hands, the old man just collapsed and never got back on his feet. What happened to the old man? He didn't look sick or anything."

"The old man, also known as 'The Inventor', had passed away." I replied as Greasy rubbed the hair grease in his hair and started combing it, "According to a person who wrote a review about the movie, The Inventor died because he was really old, had a heart attack and he didn't get any help, mainly because Edward, the guy with the scissor hands, didn't know what was going on and had no idea how to help a heart attack victim."

"That makes sense."

"And what I'm about to say next may sound but I'm going to say it anyway. Do you realize how much grease that you're putting in your hair? You just added a lot of grease in your hair."

Greasy chuckled.

"They don't call me 'Greasy' for nothing, cariño." He replied. "I'm called 'Greasy' for a reason and maybe one reason only. You weren't being rude and you're not the only person telling me about how much grease I put in my hair."

'A reason and maybe one reason only'? I thought. I'm getting really curious at the 'maybe' part and when Greasy says that I'm not the only person making a statement about the excess amount of grease in his hair.

Then, I heard somebody walk into the living room.

Oh, it's Tommy.

"Oh, you're awake." Tommy said.

"Well, sort of." I replied as I stretched a little bit. "I feel like I'm going to fall right back asleep."

"Try to stay awake for a few more minutes, Beatrice. We have to walk back home in a couple of minutes."

I yawned.

"I'll try." I said.

…..

*TIME SKIP*

"Good night, Daddy." I said after kissing my dad on the cheek.

"Good night, Dad." Tommy said before walking towards our bedroom hallway.

"Good night, you two." Dad replied as he was getting off the couch. "See you in the morning."

It's so nice to have Dad here. I thought as I smiled and walked to my bedroom.

I bet you're wondering about how things are going so far now that my dad is officially staying with me and Tommy.

Well, things are going good so far.

Dad is still in the writing books business but he's on a temporary hiatus due to suffering from a case of writer's block and he's having trouble coming up with ideas.

"It's only for a little while." Dad said one day. "I need some time to be inspired."

Tommy and I have been getting letters from Mom.

What kind of letters?

Friendly and supportive letters for Tommy and very mean letters for me.

So far, from what I've heard from Tommy's letters, Mom has refused to speak to anyone about why she hates me and has been going to solitary confinement six times after unleashing a fit of violent fury and for punching a hole in a wall.

From my letters, Mom has been saying that I'm the one who's making her behave very badly and that I was going to be sorry when she comes home after being released.

Whenever I have the opportunity to write back, I would write nice things to Mom like: "I forgive you", "Don't worry, things are going to get better for you in time"…and stuff like that.

Tommy would write stuff like: "Stop blaming everything on Beatrice", "I want you to behave and accept the help that the people at the institution and rehab center are giving you"…and other stuff that I promised myself to not repeat.

So…yeah.

That's just about it.

I am now currently lying down on my bed in my dark room while staring at my spinning bedroom fan.

The fast spinning blades are hypnotizing me.

My eyelids are growing very, very, very heavy.

As the need to sleep is taking over me, questions are running around in my head.

Not questions about life.

Questions about the Toon Patrol.

Are there more reasons why Greasy's called 'Greasy'?

Did Smarty always speak with malapropisms before Tommy and I met him?

Was Stupid always stupid and did he use to play baseball?

Was Wheezy drawn with blue fur or was there another cause?

Was Psycho always hyper?

If the spirals in Psycho's eyes stopped spinning, is Psycho going to act like Smarty, Greasy, and Wheezy?

Why does Smarty not wear pants with his zoot suit?

Zzzz…

Does…Greasy have a reason why he sometimes…acts…protective and does…he really and truly love me?

Zzzz…

…..

—who allowed me to come into this room of memories.

*gasp*.

Is that…a memory of me meeting Kaitlyn for the first time?

Hi! Kindergarten-Kaitlyn exclaimed happily at Kindergarten-Me. What is your name?

Kindergarten-Me replies nervously. Beatrice Birchwood.

Kindergarten-Kaitlyn giggled.

'Beatrice', huh? Pretty name. She said.

Kindergarten-Me smiled and replies, Thank you.

Why are you sitting here by yourself, Beatrice?

The other kids don't like me.

Why?

Kindergarten-Me sighed.

They think that I'm the teacher's pet but I'm not. Kindergarten-Me said.

I don't think that you're a teacher's pet. Kindergarten-Kaitlyn replied. I think that you're nice.

Do you think so?

Yep! Do you want to play with me during recess?

Kindergarten-Me's eyes widened with surprise.

You want me to play with you? Kindergarten-Me asked.

Yeah. Kindergarten-Kaitlyn replied. My mommy says that it's not right for little girls to be lonely and I think that we're going to be great friends.

Do you really think so?

Yes, Beatrice. Come play hopscotch with me during recess.

Okay. I will.

My eyes are tearing up right now.

Seeing that—

Oh, the music just changed.

I'm now hearing another instrumental version of a song that I happen to know.

It's an instrumental version of Butterflies and it's by Michael Jackson.

Where is this music coming from?

Do I happen to have a radio in this room of memories or am I reading my own thoughts about the songs that I like to listen to?

"Psst!"

I gasped in surprise and suddenly start to look around for the person who just grabbed my attention.

"Hey, you just passed me." The voice said.

Now I know who is talking to me!

"Greasy, is that you?" I called out in my normal volume.

"Step back five steps and look to your left." I heard Greasy replying to me.

"Ooookay."

Stepping back one…two…three…four…and five.

I look to my left.

I see somebody sitting in front of a 1980s-style jukebox and on a red loveseat sofa while flipping through some things in a cardboard box.

Could that be Greasy?

I need a better look.

Even though I'm wearing my glasses, I see the stranger as a blurry being like I don't have my glasses on right now.

"I see you but I can't tell if you're a friend of mine or not." I said the person as I walked towards him. "Can you tell me who you are please?"

The being looked up and aimed his attention at me.

"No te preocupes, cariño."The being replied. "I'm Greasy. I'm not a stranger and I can assure you that I mean no harm."

I immediately stop walking and stare at 'Greasy' in suspiciously and hesitantly.

Even though the being told me that he's Greasy, I'm not going to make an immediate confirmation that he's telling the truth.

"Come over here and sit down next to me." 'Greasy' said.

"Okay." I replied with reluctance in my voice.

I walked towards the loveseat sofa as I stared to have a better view of 'Greasy' (who is now flipping through the things that are in the cardboard box).

The being has Greasy's green zoot suit coat, green baggy pants, black and white spectator shoes, white shirt, pink tie, green zoot hat with a black strap around it, and hands.

But the being doesn't have Greasy's hair.

Plus, I can't see his face.

Why is 'Greasy' hiding his face? I thought as I sat down on the left side of the loveseat sofa. What if I'm not talking to Greasy? What if I'm talking to an imposter?

'Greasy' glanced at my legs after I thought of the last question and he looked at me.

My eyes widen in shock.

The face…is a mask.