Dog Days
a Hey Arnold! Fanfiction
by
KG
Home is hardly a word...
Main Street glimmered through the haze, a sweltering mirage in the ninety-degree heat. The evening wind was humid and sticky. Streetlights swam and flickered, letting out a luminous and uncomfortable radiance. Sidewalks bustled thickly with the night time crowd. People, mostly made up of university students, had flocked out from their dorms and apartments to draped themselves on the cool metal chairs of bar patios, conversing loudly over cheap beer and bowls of complimentary peanuts. Up and down the street, shops showed no signs of closing, despite the clock tower downtown striking twelve.
Helga Pataki stubbed out her cigarette against a concrete wall. She had walked the excruciating uphill walk from the central bus station to her old neighbourhood. A lot has changed, that was a given. For instance, there were more coffee shops that lit the streetcorners, more chain restaurant diners posing as mom-and-pop establishments. She was surprised at how little it actually affected her. But then again, few things do.
So it also surprised her how she felt a hot, uncomfortable swoop when she saw that Slaussen's Ice Cream Shop was still there. Only that it was now called Slaussen's Bar and Grill, with tinted brown windows and what Helga could only surmise from across the street, ambient lighting and classy seating. She suppressed a smirk, wondering if old Mr. Slaussen, who hated interior decorations of any sort but his own, had been prevailed upon to make renovations.
I wonder if they still serve ice cream, Helga thought. She swung the door open to a blast of air-conditioned air and a crowd cheering a basketball game on a huge widescreen television.
Helga was about to retreat to the humid outdoors when her eyes were immediately drawn to the island bar at the centre of the room. The glimmering tower of liquor bottles and glasses beckoned to her. She hadn't had a drink since she left South Dakota. She shuffled to the bar and perched herself on a red upholstered stool, catching her reflection on the shiny counter, amazed to see how tired-looking she was.
"And what will you have?" A smooth, low voice snapped her out of her reverie. She looked up and felt another hot, uncomfortable swoop dive into her stomach.
"Holy shitting crap."
"Uh, we don't serve that here," The man behind the counter smirked. Helga bit her lip.
"Hah. Sorry. Hey, Football Head."
Arnold grinned. "Fancy seeing you around here."
Helga shifted in her seat. "I know, isn't this super awkward?"
"Not really." He was still smiling. "You look great."
"Psh. Whatever. Just gimme a goddamn gin and tonic."
Arnold poured her a glass with a flourish and set the drink down before her. Helga tried to focus on the glass, its sparkly prisms of ice, the fresh smell of lime. Her throat welcomed her first sip. She sighed.
"That's better."
"So," Arnold began, pouring himself a gin and tonic.
"So what? You want to know why I'm here in Hillwood, of all places?" Helga took another healthy sip, racking her brain for the excuses she made up on the bus, which now seemed to fade away from her grasp.
"I'm curious. But I can tell you don't want to talk about it right now." Arnold downed his drink in three gulps. "But it is weird to see you again. It's been what, five years?"
"I know. I'm actually shocked at how calm we are about this. Hit me with another one, why don't you."
Arnold mixed another drink and set it down in front of her. "Hey look, my shift ends at one-thirty. Want to come over to my place?"
Helga scoffed. "What, so we can catch up? No, thanks."
Arnold's smile remained unperturbed. "Come on. Where are you staying anyway?"
"Nowhere."
"Is that for real, or you just don't want to tell me?" Arnold shrugged, beginning to wipe glasses.
Helga wondered at her irritation. Five years have come and gone, years that seemed like aeons, but she still couldn't talk to Arnold without being combative. Way to be mature, Helga, she thought.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm tired. The truth is, I just arrived. I have no idea where to spend the night, apart from my old fire escape."
"Big Bob has no idea you're here, huh?"
"Nope."
Arnold got out his phone. "You know what? We have a spare room at the boarding house at the moment. You could stay there a few nights until you find a place."
"I couldn't."
"It's better than Big Bob finding you on your fire escape."
Helga sighed. There was no way she could risk being found out. And a warm bed sounded horribly appealing right about now.
"Okay, fine. Thank you."
Arnold dialled, and put the phone near his ear. "Let me call Grandma. Meanwhile, is there anything you want to eat?" he asked, pointing at the menu overhead.
"Do you have free peanut bowls?"
At two o'clock in the morning, Main Street patios have lost most of their customers to 24-hour diners serving refillable coffee, where the fluorescent lights were sterile and glaring, where hangovers didn't seem to last. Arnold and Helga walked past one particularly bright and full of drunk hipsters draped on the booths.
"There goes the neighbourhood," Helga quipped, rolling her eyes, taking another drag of her cigarette.
Arnold smiled. "Since when did you start smoking?"
"Since when did you care?" Helga snapped, blew her smoke away from Arnold. "Sorry. That just came out. Uh, some time ago in South Dakota. Maybe two years. Who cares."
"I guess despite that, you're still the same."
"Maybe. Maybe not. What about you, Arnoldo? Still the freaking golden boy?"
Arnold frowned. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."
"Sorry. Forget it." Helga threw her cigarette on the floor, stamped on the embers. "Here you are paying for my drinks and offering me a place to stay and I act like a lousy ass."
"You're just tired."
"Yes. And you're just too soft." Helga smiled. "But thanks, really."
They walked up the block in silence to Sunset Arms. Seeing the old building still looking the same as it was made Helga feel more at ease. She was expecting complicated, nostalgic emotions to rise up, but so far, nothing.
"Wow. It still looks the same."
"There's been a lot of work done on it. Though it doesn't look like it from here."
"Are there a lot of college kids living here now?"
"Not really. Grandma's become surprisingly picky about who gets to rent here since Grandpa died."
"Oh, crap. I'm so sorry, Arnold."
"It's okay."Arnold put his keys to the lock and threw the door open. Helga was disappointed to see that no cats and dogs came rushing out. They stepped into the dark hallway lit by a single pin light.
"Careful now," Arnold said absently as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. In the dark, Helga could see the faint outlines of new floral wallpaper adorning the halls, its quaintness contrasting a pair of sleek black cordless phones charged on their racks at each end of the corridor. Arnold opened the door to what used to be Suzie and Mr. Kokoshka's room.
"Here you go," he said, stepping into a room with drab olive paint. An old Japanese paper divider shielded the twin bed from the kitchenette. A tall lamp next to the bed had water stains on the shade. And there was dust everywhere. The smell of it clung to the walls, permeated the air. Arnold plugged the lamp in, switched it on. In the poor lighting, Helga could see the lines on his face, how tired he looked, for the first time.
"Sorry it's not much. We threw out all of Mr. Kokoschka's stuff when he moved out. It smelled like rancid beans."
Helga set down her backpack on the bed and sat down. The springs groaned. "This is great, really. Anything that isn't my fire escape is. If there's anything I could do to pay you back, you know, run it by me."
Arnold wiped a finger on the dusty wall.
"I don't know, how about a hug?"
His eyes searched and locked on Helga's gaze. Helga could feel his gaze making her tired grin drop. She managed to hitch up a smirk.
"Well, why not?" She said, standing up, feeling her heart jumping, beating hard in her chest. How silly that she would be so nervous. Arnold lifted his arms slightly and she could see how uncertain he was of her. Helga solemnly pressed herself against him, surprised how cold his body was.
"We need to catch up." Arnold said in that sweet, low voice that Helga had been steeling herself against. What the fuck, Arnold, she thought, I don't need this right now. She slid out of his arms and sighed.
"I'm tired, Arnold. Let's talk more tomorrow." Helga tried to avoid his sad-eyed gaze as she removed her worn sneakers, removed her socks. "But thanks again, I really appreciate this."
"Sure. Good night." Arnold said, closing the door behind him. As soon it closed, Helga tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against it. She could hear footsteps, some keys rattling, squeaking, then silence. For a long time Helga listened to the sounds of the boarding house. Then she climbed into bed, pulled the dusty sheets over her, and slept.
Author's Notes and Disclaimer:
Wow. I am so rusty at fanfictioning. Hello everyone.
I don't own Hey! Arnold. It belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickolodeon.