The masks were a hobby, nothing more, at first.
Then Eleanor began to send photos of her creations to the actors who wore the originals on screen, a cross section of superstars and nobodies, career character portrayers and people who had lucked into showbiz and stumbled out quickly.
She often got no response, or a simple click of a like on social media. A few were gracious, an even rarer few were exuberant, and every once in a while someone condescendingly explained that they were not the character in the science fiction Eleanor loved so much.
When she got the snappy responses her hands hovered over the keyboard wanting to explain that she was aware, she was an artist, and she meant nothing but respect, admiration, and maybe a little jealousy that they got to cavort on distant planets, even if those planets were a soundstage in Burbank.
Making masks had become her living, somehow, and for that she was grateful. Far from wealthy, but grateful.
Eleanor pulled a Twiki mask from a hook. In her mind, one of her best. Felix Silla, who wore the original, network created version in Buck Rogers, had been very kind and complimentary. Eleanor blew a kiss to the heavens for him.
Her fingers felt heavy. Arthritis had been creeping, and now it was sprinting. She knew there would be a day…
In her studio she lifted the blue orb into place, one of the four eyes of Parcyxx.
Each eye bore a different geometric shape, a shape that looked different in different camera shots. Chuckling at her own nerdiness, Eleanor wanted to glue the eye at an angle that would let the light hit it the best, that the true fans would understand.
Six weeks and a few cortisone shots later, Parcyxx seemed perfect.
That strange extra vein on the neck, the four eyes with their odd gold shapes, the Master Regent of the Coulnoxyn Galactic Command was as good as she was going to get him.
Don Gilliber, the actor who portrayed the character on Nebula Prime, hadn’t posted on social media since 2014. It was a link to a pie recipe.
Eleanor emailed his representation.
Four days later she received a stock email saying that Mr. Gilliber was no longer a client and any inquiries could be sent to a law office in Van Nuys. She emailed the law office.
Eleanor was making an Ewok mask for her niece,took a break to pop a painkiller, checked her email.
“Correspondence for Mr. Gilliber can be sent to PO Box 49, Port Denton, Michigan.
Eleanor printed and snail mailed 6 pictures of the Parcyxx mask to Don Gilliber’s PO Box and settled back in on Maggie’s Ewok.
***
Eleanor magneted Maggie’s horribly misspelled thank you note for the Ewok on her fridge, popped a pain killer, sat down to work on a commission Cylon, and her phone rang.
“Ms. Simpkins?” a voice said.
Eleanor was not in the mood for a telemarketer. She began to say no when the voice said “Don Gilliber. I was wondering if the Parcyxx is available for purchase.”
Eleanor wobbled in her chair.
Either an imposter was pranking her, or the real Don Gilliber pronounced his own name slightly differently than she thought it was supposed to be pronounced.
But no one knew she had sent Don Gilliber photos of a mask of his character.
“No,” Eleanor said. “I mean, for you, if you’re Don Gilliber, I would, I mean…it would…”
There was a charming laugh on the other end, a man probably used to being spoken to by nervous fans.
“Did you send out a lot of photos, Ms. Simpkins ?”
“Ummm, Eleanor, and, no, no I didn’t.”
“Well, Eleanor, I’d love to purchase the Parcyxx mask if that’s possible.”
“How did you get my phone number?” Eleanor asked and immediately hated the aggression with which she asked.
“It’s on the lovely stationery that you wrote the note on. Eleanor Simpkins Speculative Species & Fine Masquerade Creations.”
Eleanor sucked air through her lower lip. Duh.
“It’s a pleasure to speak with you, Mr. Gilliber, and I would be honored to send you the mask gratis.”
“Oh, no, I would insist on paying. It’s wonderful, and touching that you remember Parcyxx. A season and a half when NBC was in the dumper, not many people…”
“Kylie Andersen still does the conventions and draws huge lines,” Eleanor blurted and regretted it. She wished she could rewind the whole conversation and start over.
“Kyle was quite a bit younger than me when the show aired, and is still a ravishing beauty, I think that may have a bit to do with-”
“I’m sorry, Don, you’re right. I’ll send the mask to your PO Box this afternoon and-”
“Not until you tell me how much I have to send you, and how,” Don Gilliber said.
“I couldn’t possibly charge you. You are Parcyxx.”
“I are not,” Don Gilliber said with a laugh. “I wish. Coulnoxyns had a lifespan of exactly 474 Earth years, and I, I’m afraid, am coming to the end of my human run. And I’d love to leave behind a beautiful Parcyxx mask for the little Port Denton Town Museum. Unfortunately for the museum, I’m the most famous resident.”
“So you want it for the museum and not yourself?” Eleanor said, more deflated than she’d care to admit.
“I plan to display it along with my other cherished possessions in my home. The experts tell me I can plan on about 8 more months. Nine if I’m lucky. Almost a reverse gestation.” The laugh again.
Eleanor tried to pull her sweater off with one arthritic hand. She was sweating.
“Anyway Eleanor, if you tell me the price of the mask plus shipping I can-”
“Port Denton is a five hour drive from my house in Ohio,” Eleanor said.
There was a pause, another laugh.
“If you’re offering to hand deliver, Ms. Simpkins, I am not about to say no. It’s certainly not necessary, but it would be lovely to meet you.”
Eleanor laughed this time, and Don Gilliber complimented her on the laugh.
They made plans for Eleanor to deliver the Parcyxx mask that weekend, and Don Gilliber insisted that when they met in person that she would accept remuneration.
When he said “remuneration,” his voice seemed to deepen and he sounded eerily like the Master Regent of the Coulnoxyn Galactic Command.
“We will discuss it, Don,” Eleanor said, and after they hung up she felt a giddiness she hadn’t felt in years.
***
After packing a simple overnight bag, her hands felt like anthropomorphic cutlery was dancing a conga line through them.
Grabbing her pills, she noticed the warnings.
Do not mix with alcohol.
Do not operate a motor vehicle.
Trembling, she pushed the pills in her purse.
Whatever Don Gilliber had, it was worse than arthritis. She could gut out a drive to Port Denton
***
Eleanor spent one night in the little bed and breakfast she had rented two miles from Don Gilliber’s house. Her stay in Port Denton lasted much longer.
Seven months to the day of their first phone call, Don Gilliber took his last human breath with Eleanor holding his hand as tightly as Don once held the bridge of his ship on a soundstage in Burbank.
When she came home after the funeral-Don insisted his home was hers now-she looked at the Parcyxx mask that Don had so graciously modeled for her at their first meeting,
The Port Denton Town Museum would get a different Parcyxx mask, one that Eleanor would make while listening to a recording she made of Don’s otherworldly laugh.
***
This story has everything. It's perfect. I love it!
Loving and so compassionate, the gift of friendship, beautiful