story_robrta_1_1

Here we are, Miss Baker. My condolences.

May I see her?

Of course.

She looks peaceful... like she wasn't in too much pain.

She was in the final stages of her disease, and she insisted further treatment was pointless. Most of the plans the doctors came up with were palliative, and so...

So they gave her a lot of suppressants.

(Wipes tears from eyes)

A while ago, she wrote me a letter to tell me she was sick. I was gonna head back as soon as I could to pay her a visit, but I couldn't take time off work.

When I finally got a few days off and made it to the hospital, her bed was already empty. I asked the nurse, and she gave me this address.

It's a good thing you came today... If you were just a day later, I'm afraid you wouldn't have been able to see her. According to the schedule, she's going to be cremated tonight.

Right. So I came just in time.

Sorry, I didn't mean it like that...

No, I'm not trying to blame you. I'm just lamenting.

Are you okay? I can bring you a chair, if you need it.

No thanks... Did she leave any personal effects?

Um... We found lots of cosmetics in the apartment she rented. There was also glue, clay, oil paintings, wigs, and some really scary-looking props.

I guess the room probably looked like a serial killer's hideout.

Right, we cleared out six cans of fake blood from that room... not to mention the fake limbs and eyeballs.

Was there anything else?

Oh, she was holding a notebook when she died.

Can I see it?

Give me a minute. I'll get it for you.

Here. To tell the truth, as someone who works in a morgue, I can say for certain that this is the scariest thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

(Flips through the pages) ...

I didn't expect her to hold onto my pictures.

This scary old woman here... Is that you?

Yeah, we used to practice on each other. The monster with the pustules all over is her.

Hm? Is that a letter?

'For Baker.'

<i>Roberta Baker:</i>

<i>You awful bitch. It's been ages since I sent you that video tape. The least you could've done is write back, whether you've watched it or not. Mario and I knew </i>The Living Dead on the Frontier<i> was going to bomb in the theaters.</i>

<i>We had a tight deadline and a tight budget. By the time we were in post, both of us were stretched thin. The only thing that wasn't tight was our pants, with our waistlines shrinking by the day, starved as we were. Mario's still going to get his next picture financed, but most of the producers know his reputation. No one is giving him any money.</i>

<i>I was thinking of helping out after I got discharged, but the doctors all had such long faces. They insisted on me staying in the hospital. The days here are boring, and that got me reminiscing about the old days. That room in the basement we spent all that time in, the ice cold beers with white foam, and the movies we never got tired of...</i>

<i>I'm really scared. I'm scared I'll die alone. If you get the time, could you come visit me?</i>

<i>I really miss you.</i>

<i>Cynthia Edith</i>

I'm really sorry. We were too careless and didn't notice the letter. If we'd found it, we would've contacted you immediately.

It's okay. The stuff drawn on here is scary. I get how hard it'd be to look over everything.

Still, it's an oversight on our part.

Even if you managed to get in touch with me, it wouldn't have changed anything. I just would've found out she died sooner.

*sigh*... Once they're dead, they're gone forever. Miss Baker, at the end of the day, you're here. She'll have someone to send her off as she departs on her final journey.

Is there anything I can do?

Nothing. I cleaned her body yesterday, got her out of her hospital gown, and changed her into some proper clothes.

Thanks for that.

I was just doing my job. In a minute, I'll put on some makeup. She'll look much better.

Makeup? Is that something you usually do?

Oh, it's just some broad strokes. There's really nothing that special to it.

Is it okay... if I do it?

Well... Are you sure about that? Knowing who you are...

I don't mind, and I just so happen to have all the tools I need on me.

But...

Let me do her makeup one last time, like the old days.

Yeah... I guess I couldn't do it as good as you.

Now that's not true. You're the expert here when it comes to embalming. I'm sure I'll have questions for you later.

Not at all...

(Wipes the deceased's face)

Do you know... how she died?

Chronic poisoning. The doctors think it's because of long-term exposure to cheap, low quality paint. The staff who handled her belongings also complained about how pungent those things all were.

You don't seem surprised.

When a low budget production finally gets funded, who'd spend the money on a makeup artist instead of a couple more hot actresses? Of course they'd just keep pinching pennies on every opportunity they got.

And I warned her about this a long time ago...

(Looks up and blinks)

Never mind. It's all in the past now.

(Picks up the brush)

Why did you stop?

I've never done makeup on the dead. She's here, but she can't say a single word to me. I really don't know how she wanted herself to look in the end.

Actually, when we apply makeup to the dead, we don't always do it the way they'd want. Sometimes, we do it the way their family wants them to look.

Just make her look the way you'd want.

The way I'd want...?

That's right. The most beautiful she ever looked in your memories.

The most beautiful she's looked...

Hey, Baker! Baker! Something on your mind?

Cynthia! I've waited for you for a whole hour! You know that?!

Sorry, this meal's on me, okay?

Where have you been?

I ran into Mario around the corner, so I talked to him for the better part of the day. I got no idea who he ripped off this time, but he came up with the money to start shooting his next picture.

He never knows when to give up, huh?

You know, I'm not one to give up, either!

I know, but the last couple times you two worked together... really bombed. You know what the stuck-up critics call him? 'Box Office Poison,' 'Wrankwood's Tumor.'

Hmph, the same people called him 'Father of the Slasher' and 'Master of Horror' fifteen years ago.

Cynthia, it's time for us both to admit that slasher flicks are out. Mario's time has come and gone.

Do you remember that time we got together in the basement and watched <i>The Vault of Gore</i> together. It's what inspired us to become makeup artists.

The bizarre, horrifyingly lifelike looks scared us shitless. It wasn't until later we learned it was just latex and oil paint.

You kept freaking out on the way back home. It was so annoying.

Look who's talking. You were so freaked out, you couldn't say a single word. You ignored me the whole trip.

Hahahahaha!

Haha... *cough*...

(Quickly gives her a cup of water)

Are you okay, Cynthia?

*gulp* *gulp*... I'm fine. So anyway, why did you ask me here today, Baker?

A crew working on a historical drama came looking for me. They need a makeup artist to help them do up a whole gaggle of Victorian noblewomen. I'm thinking you might be the right girl for the job.

A Victorian period piece... We're talking elegant eyebrows and extravagant hairstyles? <i>Interesting.</i>

It's funded by the Victorian government, so the budget's solid. The cast, director, and everyone's the best of the best in the industry. You'll make all kinds of connections.

They'll see what you can do. And after this job, you won't ever have to worry about getting work again.

Nah... Maybe next time. I already told Mario I'd do his movie.

Please, Cynthia. Turn Mario down. This is the better opportunity.

Say what you want, disgusting, extreme, but those bloody scenes inspire me.

You know you sound like a serial killer?

Good idea. Sounds like a fine career.

I'm not kidding. You need to think about your future.

I know the B-movies I work on have stupid plots full of holes and crude cinematography. I know they're so weird and out-there that audiences ignore them and the critics razz them.

But I don't care. I think there's nothing more awesome! My movies are brave enough to actually do stuff the mainstream films shy away from. The cookie-cutter blockbusters don't dare to imagine what the B-movies do.

They're eccentric, weird, absurd, and over-the-top. And that's what freedom means to me, it's what I've always dreamed of.

But how are we supposed to chase our dreams with no food on the table?

Life is short, Baker. The more you want, the less you actually get. Sometimes, we have to focus on the things that we really want, instead of everything.

Tell me. Do you really like those pictures you work on? Is that 'refined taste' really worth pouring all your energy and effort into?

I... I don't know. It's all just work to me. I just do my job.

What about all the stuff that you've shelved? When will you go back to that?

When I get the chance... I... I'll revisit them.

I can't wait, though!

I'll never stop or compromise. I'm gonna do what I love every day, as long as I live, even if it only brings me pain.

Did you come up with something?

I just remembered a conversation we had. She said she was going to do what she liked.

It was a cloudy day. The guy who owned the restaurant was so stingy that he didn't want to turn on a few more lights. It was completely dark, so I shouldn't have been able to see her face all that clearly...

But I still vividly remember her smile.

The face before her, white as a sheet of paper, overlaps with the face full of resolve and hope in Roberta's memories. She picks up her brush and starts painting the lifeless face.

As her brush applies the makeup foundation stroke after stroke, the face starts to become more vibrant, its dried out cheeks looking plump once more.

(Sets down the brush)

Are you finished?

Yeah, I'm done.

It's like she's only sleeping. You know your stuff.

You think so?

I've known her since I started in this industry.

Back then, I didn't have a penny to my name, and I couldn't find a place to stay. She took me into her little basement.

After that, the two of us hopped from production to production, looking for work that could earn us a living.

She was a first-class makeup artist. She could turn a face into something totally different.

From the sound of it, she could've made a lot of money in Wrankwood.

You need more than talent to make it big in Wrankwood. Her luck was rotten to begin with, but she was stubborn, too. She skipped every opportunity that came her way.

Seven years. We knew each other seven years. I remember how much energy she had when she got here, how she slaved away at night working on her projects, how excited she was when she got her first credit, and now...

Now she's lying here in the morgue.

Ice cold, pale, and lifeless.

But she looks much better after the makeup you did on her?

No, this isn't what I wanted...

Huh... Is it not good enough?

What do you think...? If really did it right...

Then why isn't she opening her eyes? Why isn't her heart beating? Why are her lips shut tight...?

Why is she just lying there... in silence?

Well... because she's dead.

Right... She's dead... Gone forever.

A sense of perplexity spreads from Roberta's face. At a loss, she simply looks at the tall, lifeless body.

With her guard down, the pain in her heart takes its chance to strike. The sharp sensation spreads out to every corner of her body.

At last, she finds herself unable to stand. She squats down into a ball, buries her face into her knees, and cries uncontrollably.

If I was... just a little determined, just a little stubborn, would things have turned out different for her?

What makes you say that?

In Wrankwood, two things top the big studios' wishlists. First and foremost, they want people who follow orders. Next, they want technique. Your dreams and interests don't matter.

I know that better than anybody, but I gave up on pushing her. I couldn't do it.

Because... there was a voice in my heart that told me she was right.

But I decided to ignore it. I couldn't keep going, like she did.

I made it all the way to today. I bowed my head to put food on the table.

I gave up and sacrificed a lot to stay commercial. And so my work became more and more successful.

At the same time, my stuff got less interesting. I'm sure, one day, I'll be completely sick of it.

But the excitement and joy she had never died down from the day she started in the business.

I think... with nothing else, that could've pushed her to make a name for herself.

I've always held out hope that her luck would turn around, that she'd be the exception to prove the rule. I really hoped for her... but I was wrong.

Sorry... I'm sorry, Cynthia.

Miss Baker. How... how is any of that your fault?

(Cries uncontrollably)

Sorry, I lost my cool.

Don't worry about it. People break down in here all the time. You actually kept it together pretty well.

Honestly... The moment you sent her into the cremator, the thought of wiping all the makeup off crossed my mind.

Why?

I was thinking, how could I let a peaceful sleeping face define her whole life?

I covered up all her life experience with makeup and forced a peaceful expression onto her... How is that any different from everything I gave up?

But you didn't... Why?

At the very moment... all of a sudden, I didn't wanna be a makeup artist anymore. I told myself, for just a second, I would become an embalmer who's committed to her work.

I wanted to let her leave this world happy, even if it's all fake.