Disclaimer: I don't own HA! or any other title.
AN: This was my last tweak. Thank you for reading.
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"Stupid freakin' heat!" Helga Pataki vented malicious animosity toward the azure sky, sweat trickling down her back, permeating the skin beneath her prismatic striped blouse. She grew weary of the five mile walk to and from work, but driving still remained out of the question. Her suspended license forbade her climb into the driver seat of any vehicle, nor was it her intention attending court or acquiring a lawyer as her representative yet again. No way! This was her day off and she needed to replenish her food supply, however the unusually thin straps on Mr. Green's heavy grocery bags cut into her shoulders mercilessly. "How the hell am I gonna carry all this crap home? I bought way more than I can handle. Shoulda brought a cart."
Peering over her shoulder, she sensed an uneasy presence behind her. Helga's first instinct meant reprimanding a love struck Brainy, but to her horror, an older man donning a warped grin planted his feet to the concrete a few feet away, noticeably snapping pictures of a young unsuspecting female with his cellphone. Helga remembered sitting behind this guy in the library the day she needed to do some work related research after her laptop crashed. Elevating her head for a well deserved break, she espied him skimming through countless photos of girls young enough to be his daughter. Whether it was the sweat cooling her off or the intensity of the creep factor doing a photo shoot in the background, chills wriggled up her spine.
"That's it! I'm outta here!" She'd rely on her physical endurance to manage the weight of these bags!
Perseverance to the rescue!
Helga, experiencing a bout of nausea, slipped out of Green's Butcher and Produce shop(Mr. Green and his son reconciled, emerging their individual businesses into a single establishment). Struggling to lift one foot in front of the other, dizziness overcame her.
Keep going! Keep going! You can make it home!
Or so she thought.
"Hey, got a light?" a gangly man somewhere in his mid-twenties clothed in wrinkled T-shirt and frayed blue jeans asked as she wandered aimlessly down the pavement.
"No, I don't have a light. No, I don't have a cigarette and if you're going to ask me for bus money, don't you think I'd have already left on it by now?!" Helga's hostile disposition hadn't released itself in years, but she realized her Vistaril and Paxil remained standing unopened on the bathroom counter.
How stupid was that? Oh well. I can't do anything about it now.
"Fine! Sheesh!" the young man mumbled under his breath, dishing out the evil eye as he walked off. "Stupid bitch!"
"Whatever, I'm too tired to deal with that garbage."
Yeah, keep walking you stupid moron. Ever heard of at least trying to find a job? Then again, who am I to be so mean? Maybe this guy's trying and all he did was ask me for was a light.
Attempting a safe trek along the crosswalk after the signal changed, she suddenly delayed her course of action due to the nerve of a careless driver pulling a left right in front of her.
"HELLO! THE LIGHT'S GREEN!"
"HELLO! YOU SEE THE CROSSING SIGNAL?!" She bellowed back, pointing to the little white stick figure on display.
Now I'm kinda wishing I didn't forget my meds.
After surviving her toilsome venture on the avenue, Hegla collapsed, barely missing a collision with the sidewalk by clutching onto Third and Vine's sign post. Closing her eyes, she pinched her brow together, waiting until the dizzy spell subsided. Upon reopening them, a sheer, bright orange prophylactic fell into her line of view.
"GO GET A ROOM INSTEAD OF THROWING YOUR USED SHIT ALL OVER THE ROAD!" she screamed through her teeth, fists clenched while kneeling on the the ground.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" a gang of teenage boys loitering around the corner ridiculed her impetuous outburst. "Crazy lady at the intersection of Third and Vine!"
"Ha! Ha! Ha! What is she? Senile?! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"HEY! YOU BOYS BETTER GET OUTTA HERE BEFORE I EMPLOY A HARD LESSON ON THE LOT OF YA!" she threatened by way of childhood standard, Old Betsy. "AND I'M NOT THAT OLD!"
"Come on! Let's go!" one of the boys motioned his peers through the alleyway. "Yeah, you never know when the cops are gonna show up!"
What is wrong with me? I haven't been like this in forever, even without medication, and I've been taking way too long to get home. Glen and Marie are gonna be so worried about me. What is that? Help wanted, part time, call for appointment. That number sounds so familiar...that number...THAT NUMBER! Arnold...I can't deny it, I'm shaking all over.
"Hey!" a pleasant voice called out unexpectedly from his partially opened passenger's side window. "Need a ride?"
"Arnold?!" Helga hadn't seen or heard from this man in at least seven or eight years, not since that horrible day she ripped his feelings to shreds, albeit accidentally. "Thanks, but I'm all right. I'll be fine!"
"Helga, you're exhausted and I can easily recognize when someone's about to pass out. Come on, let me give you a ride home," he insisted persuasively.
"Forget it! I'm not gonna impose!"
How can I possibly accept a ride from you?! I don't deserve it!
Before she knew it, the heavy burden saddling her shoulders removed itself placidly.
"Who's imposing?" Arnold returned, throwing Helga's cumbersome bags into the back seat of his grandpa's old military green Packard. "I'm the one who asked you."
Arnold opened the passenger side door, assisting Helga gently onto the car seat. She could not believe he still held such an altruistic demeanor, especially concerning her. Observing him closely, she acknowledged he'd added a fair amount of muscle to his physique, but it suited him nicely, maybe better than his former, lanky self. With his jawline relatively chiseled, he appeared even more handsome than she remembered. However, she'd always feel the same way about him no matter what he looked like. Her heart generated a rhythmic throb.
Wait. What?! What am I thinking?! I'm a happily married woman and Arnold's a happily married man! But..I'm not really imagining Arnold in that respect, am I? No, I'm not. It's definitely not the same. Somehow, this is...different.
"Here, I'm pretty sure you might need this," he handed her a bottle of ice cold water, his lucid green eyes focusing sincerely on her own. "You look a little dehydrated."
Oh, those beautiful, brilliant green eyes induce a rush of blood from my heart into my brain, mesmerizing my soul. But...if this isn't love, then...what is it? I'm sure, deep down, I understand undoubtedly. I just haven't figured it out yet.
"So, how's Glen?" Arnold initiated a conversation Helga seemed unprepared to discuss.
"Oh, uh, he's doing well," she answered quickly, hoping she didn't sound too abrupt. "You know, he used to walk faster than me, but I outpace him by about a few feet now."
"I can see that. You walk pretty fast. I usually see you passing all the young kids on the sidewalk." His expression swiftly transformed into one of concern. "Is Glen okay?"
"He's fine! He's in good health. I think age is catching up with him is all. And those kids can walk faster than I can. They're just too busy texting their friends."
"Heh! Heh! Yeah, none of us are as young as we used to be, are we?" he chuckled to himself. "How's Marie?"
"Stubborn as ever, and how is your...um..."
"Huh?"
No! No! I cannot ask him about his...no. That would dredge up a chaotic mess of emotions and I'm not ready to relive that agonizing experience again. I'll have to consider another topic, pronto!
"So, why are you hiring part time help? Doesn't the company you work for promote from within?" This was a tricky question and she had to inquire of it properly.
"My boss says it's good advertisement for people interested in our business, and it gives college kids a little extra spending money in their pockets. The only drawback is I manage all incoming calls since our lines can't be tied up," he sighed, keeping his right hand on the steering wheel, his eyes concentrating on the road.
"So, that means your personal phone stays pretty busy, right?"
"Yep," Arnold flashed a vibrating cell phone in Helga's eyes, swapping his right hand for his left to guide the vehicle.
Man! I feel for him! I know I couldn't handle that many calls!
"You think it might be those two gentlemen over there calling you?" she pointed out what looked like a pair of college age boys she'd detected strolling over the sidewalk earlier.
"Could be," Arnold shrugged, leaving his device to bounce around freely over the car seat. "But I doubt it. They seem preoccupied with other things. I'll call back later."
The taller, and probably older of the two young men seemed absorbed in a converation with his own device, the younger boy distracted by a psychedelic painting on display in the art museum's window. It suddenly dawned on Helga these two college kids reminded her of a duo she'd encountered long ago.
Helga reflected on a memorable night visiting a specific beach the month she and Phoebe Heyerdahl entered their college freshman year. She recalled feeling a little blue that evening since Arnold already departed for an out of state university, so Phoebe suggested they drive out to the waterfront to have some, as she called it, delectable entertainment. Upon arrival, she and her best friend cruised around what the locals back in those days called 'the strip' to meet new and exciting people. Later circling around the allotted area numerous times, a baratone voice belonging to a handsome young man with crisp black hair beckoned them, asking the two girls if they'd be interested in joining him and his brother in light conversation. Phoebe, entering 'enamored girl' mode, accepted his invitation eagerly. Eventually locating a proper parking space, the inseperable combo moseyed their way into a lime colored building the boys proposed they meet.
This is crazy!
At least at that nostalgic moment in time, Helga considered Phoebe's highly questionable objective insane, yet went along with it anyway. She seriously contemplated what her extraordinarily intelligent companion was thinking, after all, hadn't she always been interested in Gerald Johanssen? Then again, there was a point back in elementary school in which pop singer Ronnie Matthews completely enthralled the girl. Maybe this was one of those cases. Perhaps she'd engage in conversation with either of the guys, discover he wasn't who she thought he was, and then it'd all be over. Thinking on it, Helga figured a chat with one of the two boys might be beneficial. It was time she quit pining over Arnold since there was no chance of developing a relationship with him in the long run. Approaching each gentleman in the breezeway, she'd come to a conclusive decision.
This is it. Time to take a risk.
Helga understood the elder sibling clearly desired a consultation with Phoebe, advancing toward her enthusiasticly. Of course he would, she was the more attractive of the two comrades. That meant introducing herself to...him...the younger brother.
I'm not opposed to hanging out with interesting people, but I don't even know what topic I should bring up to this guy!
Luckily, the young man introduced himself first, stating his name as either Fred or Craig, she couldn't remember. She then surrendered her own name and the conversation set itself in motion. While he continued to talk about himself and how he hated his occupation, Helga scrutinized his appearance. His broad shoulders didn't quite match his relatively short stature, but boy did he have a brazen attitude! The one aspect she recalled about him most was his outrageous hairstyle. His somewhat blond hair remained cropped close to his head in geometrically shaped patterns and it seemed obvious he'd been swimming in a chlorinated pool for at least a month or two since it gave off a subtle hint of green.
"What the hell did you do to your hair?" she demanded in her usual abrasive manner.
He responded by explaining he'd styled it as a tribute to either a person or other he admired. Again, her memory failed her. Then he asked her a strange question, confirming his outright eccentricity.
"Do you like cartoons?"
Do I like cartoons? What the hell kind of question is that?
Little did she realize later on she'd become reacquainted with those cartoons after an out of town friend presented a red headed animated female residing beneath the ocean. But that boy's eyes looking into hers, seemed genuinely serious, and actually kind of pretty. They were nowhere near as gorgeous as Arnold's vivid pools of emerald green, but the moss aquamarine color stood out significantly, so she couldn't help uttering an actual compliment.
"Your eyes are really pretty."
Man, why did I even say that?! This guy must think I'm a total moron!
But he didn't think that at all. He actually thanked her, producing a pair of thick black rimmed glasses from his pocket, placing them over the bridge of his nose. She couldn't help almost bursting out in a fit of laughter he looked so ridiculous, but he actually also looked kind of cute. Thankfully, her smile slightly concealed her conspicuous mirth, although he seemed like the type who didn't care much about other's opinions. He handed the frames over to her.
"Try them on," he offered, those pretty eyes observing her with utmost sincerity. To his delight, she humored him by positioning the lenses over her own eyes.
Whoa! These are covered in lint! Well, at least they're not Curly's. Trying those on...BIG MISTAKE!
"Uh, when's the last time you cleaned these things anyway?"
Exhibiting a sheepish grin, he mentioned only wearing them when absolutely necessary. Helga also revealed her dislike of corrective lenses upon inheriting Miriam's poor eyesight at the age of thirteen. After she handed his unusual, pilot styled glasses back to him, he pushed them into his face posing one last time.
"You know, when you put those on, you kinda remind me of the driver from that old anime, what was it called...Speed Racer?"
"Really?!" This subject sparked his interest, causing him to go into a spiel about how much he loved anime, hated dubs, and only listened to subs. He explained Speed Racer was old school anime. Most of those dubs' timing needed improvement, which was why he disliked them.
Maybe I should hand this guy over to Phoebe. He's really weird...but he's a cool kind of weird.
Eventually, she disclosed her ignorance regarding said material, so he veered into a more serious area...bullying.
Apparently, he'd been a victim of childhood persecution which she'd never have guessed had he not told her a slight bit from his past. He allowed her listen to his awful tale involving a balancing act on the elementary school's playground equipment to avoid a daily ritual beating. This action earned him a dreadful nickname from his culprits he told her he planned on using to his advantage when the time was right. She could only imagine how traumatizing that was, empathizing with his plight after having gone through the vicious cycle of being harassed in preschool, to becoming the bully in elementary school, back to the harassed in junior high school. Wolfgang and Ludwig proved ruthless in those years, often leaving her nurse a black eye, bloody nose, or bruised arm. Worst of all, the psychological scars she suffered from their horrific namecalling caused her to occasionally lash out at people whose only intent was to give her an honest compliment. Enduring an hour long session with Dr. Bliss, she vowed never to use a derogatory word toward another person again. Helga related to this boy on a level beyond anyone else in her life, but decided the sour subject matter needed a change. Music introduced itself as a refreshing departure from her troubled youth, sheltering her from fallow demons she readily possessed. Surprisingly, they had similar tastes in artists, analyzing each in a long drawn out discussion until the elder brother interrupted tersely.
"Hey! I need you to switch girls with me now!"
Her newly established acquaintance, addled by his brother's unanticipated command, lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. Speculating poor judgement on his part, Helga grasped why the boy might exchange partners with his younger sibling. Phoebe's 18th birthday resided in the month of December, six weeks from the current date.
"Switch with me, please?" he pleaded his case in a more subdued tone.
The peculiar young man with the intense hairdo shrugged his shoulders, repeating the gesture of gazing into Helga's eyes, inviting them in for deep analysis. He definitely meant something on a higher plane.
Remember that song we talked about. I don't care if you forget me or my name, just remember the song, okay?" This seemed a bit like a lecture.
Accept me as I am. That's what I think he's implying. Of course.
"I'll see what I can do."
Helga spent the remnant of the evening with the more reserved elder brother, whom she also shared similar interests with, such as writing. She later granted him permission to read an original poem she'd worked on diligently, grateful it contained no trace of Arnold since most of them occupied that category. His opinion, it was well written, but needed some minor adjustments. When she requested a sample from one of his compositions he declined, hesitant to enter the house and sift through loud, crackling papers since it might possibly wake his parents. It wasn't worth the risk. A few hours past their rendezvous on the beach, the gang played a short round of basketball before the older pairing found themselves in the front seat of Helga's hand me down '84 Plymouth elaborating yet one more time on her new companion's younger brother. His descriptive analysis of the boy invoked a passion within herself relating to her new friend all the more. The discussion concluded and the fine young man launched another gentle kiss behind tinted windows. He kissed her once earlier at the beach that night and, at one point, caused her to feel uncomfortable. To her relief, he ceased, well aware Phoebe'd seated herself beneath the basketball hoop for at least fifteen or twenty minutes.
"I think it's time you take your friend home, but I'll call you." He exposed a torn square of paper with her number on it between two fingers.
"Where's your brother?" The boy seemed to have disappeared.
"He's probably inside watching television."
He ditched Phoebe for t.v.?! How rude! Maybe he had a good reason, but I'll have to get back with her on the matter.
"He has a good reason." That sort of answered her question.
Bidding her new companion farewell, she started her car, preparing for the journey home. On the drive back to Phoebe's house, she made certain her best friend enjoyed their outing, demanding she spill any details if the younger pairing forged a special connection. Her answer, no, the two of them only exchanged views among numerous topics, but he did tell her something she refused to proclaim. Helga figured his older brother already clarified this something with herself earlier and opened her mouth to say so, but Phoebe pledged to keep mum, earning her the girl's utmost respect and admiration for such integrity. The one thing the two girls agreed upon was both boys emitted a natural pleasantness and neither would mind sharing an additional evening with either, though receiving a phone call remained doubtful.
That doubt vanished after Helga heard the older brother's voice through her receiver the following day. He asked her if she'd like to drop by his house that afternoon. His parents weren't home. A red flag signaled in her head instantly, causing her conjure up a conceivable excuse to avoid undesirable consequences. Her attempt in convincing him it might be awkward if his brother were home never fazed him. Notifying her the younger sibling already closed himself up in his room to watch television or do whatever else he did all day, he reassured her there'd be no problem. She finally concocted a feeble lie, letting him presume she had a prior engagement during the day, but would try to pay a visit that afternoon. He reminded her it was the green house on the corner with the for sale sign on the front lawn. Guilt dwelt inside her as she hung up the phone, but this was an activity in which she desisted. Besides, even if it was innocent, her undying love for Arnold put her at a disadvantage and this would most likely lead to regret in the end.
One or two years later, Helga, Phoebe and Gerald(Phoebe finally landed him as a boyfriend) reappeared on a specific beach for a fun filled evening. Helga claimed no partner to share her love, so this particular weekend was for her, once again, to meet new and exciting people. She was ready to leave when who else should they chance upon but that bizarre younger brother whom she failed to recognize he'd changed so dramatically.
"Hey, guys!" a relatively short man with blue hair flowing past his shoulders addressed them happily.
"Hey!" Phoebe identified the boy immediately, embracing him affectionately. Gerald's expression displayed one of noticeable discontent, but was kind enough to allow the gesture. "You remember our friend, right, Helga?"
Those eyes! Those pretty green aquamarine eyes!
"Yeah!" She felt so ashamed she hadn't recognized him nor did she recall the song he so adamantly asked her to remember.
Phoebe conversed with him for about a minute, but she and Gerald decided he spend time with Helga since she'd come without a date. He embraced her warmly, announcing he'd left his former occupation for a new profession he thoroughly enjoyed. She noticed he'd added a slight amount of weight to his frame, admitting to him he looked pretty good. In truth, the fact he was a nice guy held so much more importance. Thanking her graciously, he pointed out the establishment he'd frequented where a special someone he planned on asking out later in the evening stood socializing amongst friends. Glancing upward, his pretty eyes invited her analyze his year or two old expression. She felt confused as to whether he longed for her approval or if he'd been scrutinizing her relentlessly. The one thing she did feel was, though she barely knew him, if she wasn't such a screwed up person, he could possibly become as close a friend as Phoebe. This thought shook her to her core, but her anxiety diminished after he invited her to come visit him and his friends at the bar. This gesture brought much needed comfort until he offered her to hang out with his friends and have a drink while he performed his duties. Explaining to him she'd be driving herself home, he insisted a couple of his friends were designated drivers, so he'd introduce them to her. In reality, Olga was home from Alaska for the weekend and would freak out if she arrived home in the wee hours of the morning, but she wasn't about to tell him that. At length, he confided he'd escaped his friends for a moment of solitude and to say hello to her and Phoebe, but now needed to get back to them. She wished him the best of luck in his new career, telling him to say hi to his brother for her. Answering her he would, he still insisted she stop by later, then twirled around disappearing into a generous crowd of people shouting out his name.
No matter the years that pass, no matter if you forget me or my name, I'll forever accept you as you are because I adore you.
"And I still adore you," she professed to herself with a smile, wiping a single tear away from her lashes.
"Helga, is everything all right?" Arnold asked, bringing her back to the present day.
"Oh! Yeah. Sorry, Arnold. I was just thinking about something is all. I didn't mean to freak you out." She'd never admit to him she'd been waxing nostalgic.
"Um, I've been trying to figure out what to say to you this entire trip, and I think I now know how to approach it. Look, I'm fully aware of your attempt to ask me how I was doing earlier and I just want to let you know I'm fine, so there's no need for you to worry...hey, are you okay?"
No. No, I'm not okay.
A rush of immense heat encompassed Helga's entire body, inflicting her mind with an onset of overwhelming delirium. Persperasion oozed onto the old auto's nylon upholstery, deepening its fair cream color into a medium shade of beige, soaking the seat of her dampened blue jeans. This lead into a surge of involuntary quivering.
Not this again! Why now? Why do numbers and letters trigger such distinct memories my mind refuses to forget? I cannot seem to let go of that horrific day I hurt Arnold so badly. My heart can't take it! Please, I'm begging you, erase this awful picture from my head!
But Helga continued recapturing the shameful photo from the past she so dreaded. In her youth, she'd tormented the majority of her peers without remorse, never realizing deep within her lay an ache so powerful, it overshadowed her potential essence. Dr. Bliss helped her touch the surface behind part of that ache. Even in junior high and high school, having transitioned from tormentor to tormented, she concealed her considerate demeanor behind a cold, quiet atmosphere, especially after graduatiing high school. While meeting that unusual boy on the beach so many years ago, she learned to slowly open up to other people, but due to her distrustful nature, kept her relationships to a select few. Earning her college degree, she met a kindhearted man whom she subsequently married and though she cherished him dearly, her affection toward him wasn't nearly as passionate as the love she held for Arnold. Glen treated her like a princess, yet also conducted himself as a father figure she subconsciously despised. Maybe this characteristic was what drew her to him in the first place, in other words, he filled the responsibilities her own father so dutifully neglected, but she stood by her decision nurturing their wonderful daughter, Marie. She felt the need to take on a second job to provide the family with some extra income and so this is where fresh turmoil buried itself in unforeseen places.
One night in particular, Helga's dour mood heightened her nonchalant attitude heading into work. Her husband's health presented itself as a challenge to any respected cardiologist. The first hospital visit ended in five stents expanding his clogged arteries(they deemed him too young for quadruple bypass surgery). On the second visit within the last year, the surgeon announced two of those stents needed to be replaced with a single bypass, and three months prior from the current date, he'd gone to the emergency room complaining of severe chest pain. Thankfully the cause of that reaction dismissed itself from the cardiovascular system. It didn't help her worries were disregarded by her coworkers whose only interest was to mock her assigned duty as beauty consultant, whispering among themselves how a woman so ugly could benefit consumers with their cosmetic routine. Yes, she was the spitting image of her dad, but cleaned up nicely if she applied her makeup accordingly. Despite their painful words, she denied them the satisfaction of a passive aggressive reaction.
Running through the store's front entrance, waving past Paul texting his boyfriend(as usual) she moved into her designated department consulting with the day shift's Janette and Dan. Unable to listen intently, she confirmed aloud she'd rather be doing something useful with her degree than work at this awful job. Dan widened his eyes in feigned surprise, asking Helga if she really did have a degree. Slightly irritated, but keeping her pitch at an even level, she answered yes. Janette, also feigned astonishment, appearing rather foolish, assuming she hadn't picked up on the fact the couple was making fun of her.
Has the behavior of college age kids regressed since I attended university? These two act like they're in elementary school. If I actually told them my opinion, I'd probably get fired, but do I really care? No, but it's not worth breaking my promise to never emotionally damage another human being again over something so trivial. However, if I say their mental attacks don't bother me, I'd be lying.
Returning home from her brief work period, she contemplated whether keeping her extra means of income was worth dealing with the aggravation fueled by her childish coworkers. A boy she shared numerous shifts with depicting her as horse faced determined her decision regarding the job. Conversing with Phoebe over the phone, she sat on her bed staring blankly at the laptop's monitor, trying to figure out what sort of sadistic pleasure others got out of debasing another person's humanity. Of course her faithful friend suggested the underlying reason might lie in the fact some folks displayed this type of behavior to mask their own insecurities. Helga debated the issue by emphasizing while this held true for individuals such as her childhood self and Harold Berman, some tended to thrive on cruelty for their own self gratification. She truly wished to believe most people bore a generous heart, but after all she'd been through, found trouble accepting it. The one person she felt grateful to(besides Arnold) was Phoebe who'd remained by her side all these years no matter the situation. Thanking her passionately, she informed the girl she needed to sign off. An incoming call was ringing through and it could be Glen with another emergency. She couldn't afford to take a chance on a call ignored. Sure enough it was Glen, letting her know he'd be leaving work in half an hour. Alleviated from her concerns, she returned to the computer monitor, a request from the instant messenger catching her eye.
"JAZ43...who the hell is JAZ43 and why do they want to talk with me at this hour? Ah, well, I guess I'll accept since I can't sleep anyway."
'HEY! WHAT'S UP?' the screen announced loudly.
"What the hell? Why is this moron shouting at me?"
'Who is this?'
'It's me, Arnold.' Was this really Arnold? She hadn't associated with him on a regular basis in quite a few years.
'How do I know you're the real Arnold?' she typed her reply.
"My computer's been hacked three times already and I have no desire to view pop up porn while reading important email!" She was already in a bad mood. She didn't need this to exacerbate it.
'Phoebe Heyerdahl is your best friend. Now do you believe it's me?'
You're going to have to do better than that answer.
'Everyone know's Phoebe's my best friend. What makes you think I'd be so gullable to fall for that trick?
Whoever's behind the keyboard can't be Arnold. He'd come up with a more clever response.
She wondered if this person thought she was an idiot.
'Come on, we went to the movies the day before I left for college.'
'Even though it was years ago, everyone knows that too! Got anything else to prove to me you are who you say you are?'
'Here's the link to the boarding house's website.'
'No way! I'm not clicking on any link! This is a new computer and I'm not in the mood to see another porn advertisement ever again!'
'I promise, I'm not going to hack you. Just click on the link.'
That's what they all say.
'No!'
'Again, I promise, you're not going to get a virus.'
'I'm sorry, I won't click the link.'
'Look, I had a heart attack.'
Did he seriously just say that? Arnold's always been in good health. Now I know it's not him!
"All right! You just crossed the line, pal! When I go to work tomorrow, I'm gonna kill Janette and Dan for playing such a diabolical prank!"
'Are you for real? If this is a joke, it's not funny.'
'FUCK YOU! No it's not.'
What the heck? Who is this person?
Helga, in attempt to type a response explaining her husband's condition, found herself blocked by the user known as JAZ43.
"Well, fuck you too, whoever you are! Asshole! I'm going to bed."
Questioning Paul the following night at work if he ever familiarized himself with the name behind the user JAZ43, he contorted his face in confusion, staring at Helga as if she'd beamed down from a remote, uncivilized planet. The other employees also focused on their assignments attentively, so there were no indsidous smiles rendered behind her back which seemed rather odd. Maybe she'd possibly been mistaken as to who'd actually preoccupied himself in an exchange with the likes of herself. Trying not to dwell on the issue, she decided she'd call Phoebe after she got home, breezing through her shift.
"Hey, Phoebes, got a minute? Do you know anyone who goes by the name JAZ43?" She sought a solution in the most resourceful person she knew.
"You mean, you don't know? I can't believe you wouldn't know Arnold's user name," an astounded Phoebe declared.
"Huh, so that really was Arnold last night," Helga's conscience drowned in a river of uneasiness after hearing Phoebe reveal the identity behind her so called perpetrator.
"Is something wrong, Helga?"
"You might say that," she returned nervously, recollecting the previous night's events.
"Oh my gosh!" Phoebe cried out. "You mean Arnold never called you about what happened?!"
"How could he? I replaced my cell phone about a month ago and the last time I talked with him was probably five years ago. And what happened?"
"He had a heart attack, Helga," she confirmed solomnly, "about three weeks ago."
"You're kidding." Her own heart descended into her stomach and she felt the need to vomit.
"No."
-What have I done?!
"Please! Please! I'm begging you, Phoebe, tell him I am so sorry! I honestly thought it was my coworkers messing with me about Glen. I'd never ever hurt that man intentionally!"
I want to crawl in a hole. I want to bury myself in that hole never to see the light of day again.
"I know that," Phoebe sighed, fully aware of her best friend's tendency to act irrationally, "but why don't you apologize to him yourself?"
"I can't." Helga detested herself more and more by the minute. "I don't have his number and he blocked me on his messenger system.
"Really? Hmm. I'll see if I can get a hold of him right now. That way we can resolve this unnecessary tension at once. Allow me about five or ten minutes, please."
The sound of keys clacking away at Phoebe's computer caused Helga to bite her nails incessantly. She was so disgusted with herself for evolving into such a bullheaded, paranoid freak! Tears welled up in her eyes.
All because of those stupid jerks at work! No, I can't really assign blame to them. It goes so much further back than that. I have to take responsibility for my own actions.
"Helga, are you still there?" Phoebe whispered through the receiver.
"Yeah, what is it? What did he say?' She wasn't so sure she wanted to hear his opinion of her right now.
"Well, it isn't as if he hates you...I don't think...but you caused him quite a bit of emotional pain. To put it bluntly, you really hurt him."
"No...no...I...can you at least ask Arnold if I can talk to him please?" Those words pierced through her heart like an arrow.
"I have him on call waiting, so I'll go ahead and ask him. Be right back." A soft click sounded through the line and several minutes later Phoebe's timid voice returned to her ears. "I'm really sorry, but he says he doesn't want to talk to you right now. Helga, I'm pretty sure I heard the man crying."
"What? No way!" She sucked in a deep breath so as not to hyperventilate. "No...I can't..."
"Listen," her most valued friend tried calming her, "I'm surrendering Arnold's number, but you must not tell him I was the rapscallion behind the deed. You should also let him have some time to cool off, all right?"
"All right. Thanks, Phoebe."
"Anytime, Helga."
Agony coiled itself around Helga's emotions, choking her heart as she once again reentered the present day, recognizing the fact she'd been sitting next to the very man she emotionally wounded several years ago. An onslaught of violent convulsions ravaged her body as she'd finally come to the realization of what she'd felt all along over the course of her incidental excursion. Her love for Arnold transcended beyond any ordinary marital love. Only he satisfied the profound need she failed to comprehend until now. She ultimately conceded that this man, whom she so highly respected and admired, proved a soulmate she'd probably lost forever. On account of her rash actions, she'd severed the extraordinary friendship the two shared, resulting in that need going unfulfilled. She wanted to cry.
I can't breathe! And I can't take this anymore! Please end this nightmare and just let me die! Let me die right now!
"Hey, are you okay?" Helga opened her eyes to middle aged man with a guitar strapped to his back, a genuine look of concern on his face as he extended a hand out to her.
"Huh?" Helga twisted her head around to find herself back at the corner of Third and Vine, still kneeling on the burning concrete. "I'm a little confused right now, so can you fill me in on what happened?"
"I only arrived here myself about five minutes ago, but from the looks of it, you must have passed out. Now I'll ask you again, are you okay?"
He was a small man considerably short in stature who wore his chestnut colored hair down to his shoulders. His sage green eyes with their light brown bands enclosing his pupils melted her frigid exterior and she felt as if she could trust him.
So, this was all a figment of my imagination. Wishful thinking. A pipe dream.
"No, I'm not okay." She lifted her head, focusing in on those unique eyes, tears cascading down her cheeks.
"Come on, let me help you up and we'll find a place where you can recover quietly. Tina Park sound good?"
Helga nodded silently as he grasped her hand, lifting her off the sidewalk and handing her a bottled water. He took her bags and introduced himself as Brad, then scolded her for not keeping hydrated while walking in unbearable heat. At the park the two sat face to face on opposite benches, her heart pouring itself out to a man she barely knew. With his left heel placed over his right knee and his arms resting on his guitar, he listened intently. After her story concluded, he sat with his thumb and forefinger under his chin, processing what he'd just heard.
"Can I ask you a question?" he finally spoke, setting his left foot on the grass. "As harsh as this might sound, is this really the most horrible thing you've done in your life?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Okay, now that we've established that, let's move on."
Who does this guy think he is?
"So, both of you assumed the other was inappropriately poking fun at a serious situation?" Brad shook his head, his hair falling forward. "You do realize what happens when you assume? You separate the three-"
"Yeah, yeah! Shut up!" Helga continued sobbing.
"Hey! Hey! Calm down," he wrapped his fingers around her forearms gently. "We all have bad days, including myself. I'm gonna let you in on something, and then I'm going to give you my personal opinion, okay?"
"Okay," She wondered what kind of bull he'd load into her brain.
"When I was younger," he clasped his hands together thoughtfully, "I got in an altercation with a person I cared for deeply. This person also happened to be a hoarder, and I was so angry at the time, I told said person I hoped they died in their own pile of crap. Yes, we made up. Yes we forgave each other, but even so, years later the very thing I said actually came to pass. I can never take that back."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You had nothing to do with it and believe me, that's not the worst thing I've done in my life," Brad lectured her sternly. Leaning over his guitar, he searched her eyes directly. "My point is, we all say and do things we regret, but I'm still here. I lived through many crises and I'm sure you'll survive your own ordeal. And the first thing you need to do is apologize to your friend. After all, you are at fault since you never took his feelings into consideration."
"I know, but," Helga started," it's been so many years and I forgot-"
"You didn't forget it. You repressed it," he pointed out. "Take it from someone who knows."
"But what if I apologize and he still wants nothing to do with me?" Insecurities resurfaced throughout her mind.
"How will you ever know if you never call him?" Brad asked, resting both hands under his chin. "Besides, if that's the outcome, is his friendship truly worthwhile? Though I don't know you well, you seem like a fascinating person to me."
"I suppose I could call him."
"Then why not call him now?" he suggested.
"Right now? I don't have his num-wait a minute. Yes, I do." She pulled out a strip of paper she'd torn off from the help wanted advertisement. "But my husband and daughter are probably worried sick about me by now."
He reassured her he'd take care of it, pulling out his cell phone, calling the number she related to him. Assuming the role of her new psychologist, he informed Glen Helga's session was running late, but she'd give him a ring as soon as she got out. Once Brad ended his call, Helga arose from her bench and hugged him enthusiasticly. Although he seemed somewhat taken aback, he returned her affection, then encouraged her it was time she phoned Arnold. Fear swept over her as she punched in each number and after a few seconds, her new friend tilted his head in question. Relief overwhelmed him as she soon rendered a soft smile.
"It's ringing."
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AN: Yes, I'm considering this for a two shot. Constructive criticism is always welcome.