Disclaimer - I don't own Hey Arnold
Ever stayed up at 3 am wondering why in god's green earth is the reason you're still awake this late despite knowing full well the responsibility you're supposed to fulfill for the coming morning?
That's what's happening to young, blonde Arnold over here.
I don't know why I'm talking to myself in third person.
Here I am, standing in the middle of the my living room, 3 am, in the dark like a creep. And no, I am not alone. Sleeping on the sofa of the living room is one of my friend and his girlfriend crashing the night. Luckily, not doing anything indecent other than being asleep. But me being here, standing in the dark, being a creep, will probably change that. Man, that sounds weird. Not like I expect them to wake up and then suggest we get funky for no apparent reason.
Need to go outside, clear my head a bit.
Well, I'll try to sneak my way out of here, but they'll notice.
Quietly, with key in hand, I made my way out of the living room, gently unlocking the gate and trying my damnest to be very ninja about the whole thing. God, why is everything loud when you're sneaking?
The creaking of the gate as it slides just sounds like medieval bridges lowering down to me. I could hear them stir a bit, but not too much. Not sure if I did wake them up, but if so, they chose the right decision for ignoring this fool.
Walking down the hallway to the elevator, the only sound I could hear was the soft echoes of my footsteps and on occasion the sound of cars passing through.
I made my way down and as I stood inside the elevator, I suddenly felt like I was standing inside a confession booth, except there's no small window to talk to the pastor, only the mirrored reflection of my anxious face staring back at me.
The move felt like a mistake.
Maybe I shouldn't have left Hillwood.
Maybe I shouldn't have gone here.
As the thoughts start gathering, it cleared up when I heard the ding as I reached my floor.
I need to be outside
Need to clear my mind.
I made my way out of the apartment complex and was greeted by the brisk, night air. I take it in, slowly clearing my thoughts and feeling less stressed with my decision on being here.
Where is here exactly?
I'll give you a hint, it's not America.
Albeit, not a great hint, but it tells you one thing. I am indeed far, far away from my life in Hillwood. All my friends, family, anything that which is familiar to me, I chose to go to a place completely beyond anyone's expectation for my college years.
I'm in Malaysia. Specifically, in the city of Kuala Lumpur, at the edge of Selangor state. Although, I get confused every time I asked my classmate regarding the geography of this place.
Now, why would dear old Arnold Shortman, the proclaimed golden boy of the town, decide to pack his bags and go off to the other side of the world?
Well, dear folks, he too does not have a clue why.
It just so happens that I wanted to go someplace else. Like really go where everyone doesn't know my name.
Grandparents were worried. All the tenants were worried. All my friends were worried. Everyone thought my choice, as Gerald would put it, was a bold move.
But then my parents, sweet, weird, supportive parents knew the feeling of wanderlust. Even after coming back to my life years ago, having to tie up their loose ends and wanting to spend every waking moment together with me. They told me there will be times when I have an urge to go somewhere far. To be somewhere unfamiliar. It's apparently a Shortman thing to do when one reached a certain age, but I just thought I was...stagnant at where I was.
Does that even make sense?
Anyway,
With my parents' connection, and my scholarship, I took the...what was it...20 hour flight to Kuala Lumpur. Touchdown at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport, meet with my parent's connection, a Chinese man who has a son around my age going to the same college as me, and head off to the apartment I currently lived now.
It has been 4 months since the move, and so far, classes have been alright. But there will be bouts like this, times when I really doubt my reasoning for being in a country literally on the other side of home.
Mindly monologuing to myself, I walked to one of the only opened restaurant around. An Arabic place run up a portly-looking man, which sounds like a stereotype I know, who greeted me with a confused, but genuine smile.
"ARNOLD! Why in god's green earth are you alive, friend?" I'm pretty sure he meant awake, but that too is a valid question.
"I'm just walking about, for now, Mr. Sa'ad." I eyed the big shishkebab looking stick, "One shwarma, please."
"Of course." He readied his knife and tool and had gotten to work on the meat.
A moment passed and I gave him 6 bucks for the shwarma. Something about eating food outside during the wee hours just feels peaceful at times.
It's like life hasn't started yet, no buzzing noises of cars or people chattering. No hustle and/or bustle of, I guess, humans.
Jesus, I sound so alien.
Deciding that just standing still wasn't enough, I decided to walk around the neighborhood, just far enough so I don't need to worry about getting mugged.
I let the breeze passed through me, getting myself lost in the moment, only to be interrupted by a string of very colorful word choices which I can honestly say I wish I had recorded in case of a meltdown.
I walked toward the sound of where the noises were. There, I found a lone woman, her hands waving around with vigor as she continued her rant.
The woman wore a pink dress which the local called Baju Kebaya, a type of form fitted dress. The top of the dress was long sleeved reaching all the way to her wrists, and stopping around her thighs. Her skirt stopped shy above the ground covering almost everything except two sandals poking out. Always wondered how'd anybody walk in those without tripping. I can see blonde poking out from her matching pink shawl, similar to mine.
She doesn't look like she's from around here, I thought. But I could be wrong, considering how fluent she's saying some of the swears I was taught by some of my classmates.
And then she turned towards my direction.
Her tantrum stopped when she noticed she had an audience, and I can finally see her face. At least to an extent in this darkness.
She had straw-blonde hair, which curled slightly to the side. Freckles dusted across her face. Her lips pink, but one can the tinge of red from lipstick wiped away. All this and her most defining feature was her eyes, a sharp shade of blue that is very foreign in this part of the world. Then again she could have been wearing contact lenses.
"Jesus, were you there the whole time!?" The woman started, startled by my presence. Her tone was harsh but oddly familiar. The kind of familiar like an itch at the back of my skull. She placed her hand on her hips, "Did you enjoy that? Because I might have to charge you a pretty penny, white boy."
"I'm sorry, white boy!?"
"Yeah, not a great first impression, but that flew out of the window when all you did was gawk at me during my eloquent recital, so I chose racist remarks to go about with this. It is the backbone of human history to do so."
Oddly enough, she made a point.
Pinky, or as I opted to call her that for now, suddenly had a change of stance. At first defensive, now she looked at me as if she realized something about me.
"You're know, I have this odd sensation I know you from somewhere." she said, "I don't happen to owe you money or anything like that?"
"I sure hope not," I answered, "Unless you're planning to give away free money, I can't really complain about that."
"Ha! You're cute, you know that, American? And yes, I know you're from the states. I would know my own peeps, unfortunately."
Being called cute had made me blushed a bit. Not exactly the type of feeling one should have when they are confronted by a stranger at these hours.
"No... I do know you... "She narrowed her eyes more, focused on studying the features of my face. It then shot up open and wide.
"Shit, Arnold!?"
That surprised me too much. "W-what!? How did you know my name?"
"Un-freaking-believable! What are the odds?" She laughed like she won a lottery, but wasn't pleased with the prize. Pinky shook her head at the disbelief.
"You don't recognize me, do you?" She phrased it as a matter of fact tone. I could hear a tinge of loneliness from how she says it, but I could be over-analyzing it.
"I'm sorry, you're going to have to give me something to go on."
"Jeez, football head. I've only been gone for 8 years."
Football Head.
No.
Can't be.
"Helga?"
I see her smile graced her face and she took down her shawl, "Bingo-bongo, Arnoldo."
"Shit."
"I know, right?"
Too many questions filled my mind. Too many emotions as well. This girl was my childhood bully, the person whom, to be frank, harassed most of the 4th graders back then. But oddly enough she was particularly harsh on me.
I should be angry or something, but when it was time for her to leave Hillwood behind, she confessed. Apologized.
"I was being unfair," she said to me then, "I... I have some problems that need sorting out, and you just happened to be the easiest target. I'm sorry and goodbye." Helga gave me a kiss on the cheek and then she left. I didn't remember where exactly she went off to, and in a very uncharacteristic manner from me, I guess I didn't really care to ask. I could have asked Phoebe about it since she and Gerald had hooked up. And seeing as I am Gerald's best friend, I should have been aware of the whereabouts of His girlfriend's best friend.
Now, 8 years later, she stood before me, so much different, yet I should have known it was her. Pink had always been her color, but... Well, I'll be honest, she has grown... Like a lot
I was probably staring too long because Helga snapped her finger.
"Are you checking me out?"
Yup, definitely stared too long. I could feel my face turn red.
"Hey, don't be embarrassed, Head boy. I'm actually quite flattered. Any other person, I might deck them." She mused.
"That's good to know."
I wasn't sure how to continue from there. We haven't seen each other since we were 10. So many things have changed. The different life and experiences we went through, and yet.
Yet it feels like she hasn't changed that much at all. I've always known Helga was sarcastic, witty, enough to change anyone's mood with her words.
"What are you doing here anyway, Arnold?" She asked curiously
I pointed to the apartment building behind me, "I live here. Been staying in Malaysia for 4 months now."
Wait, maybe she's asking me I'm outside at so late at night?
"And I just felt a bit restless, so I thought about taking a late night stroll."
Cool, now I've covered my basis.
"I'd like to ask the same question to you. What are you doing out so late?"
"Let's just say today has been, unkind to me in a sense." She said with melancholy, "Had a fight with a friend of mine, if I can call him that anymore. I ended up storming out of his car and was just left here."
"I had planned to call one of my friend who was staying in this neighborhood, but I really had to vent. And that's when you came." Helga finished talking and silence envelope between us. It was almost deafening, the silence.
"I know this reunion is very unexpected," She started, "And don't get me wrong, I'm actually super glad it's you I'm meeting at this time. Lord knows what'll happen if I met some creep at this time of night." Hearing the word creep sort of hurt me considering my earlier thoughts. "Like seriously, what are the freaking chances, right? God damn universe shit going on! But, it is the dead of night, and I need a place to crash."
O-oh...
Although I am definitely not mentally functioning properly, I can't just leave her alone. I nodded.
"Thanks, Arnold. I owe you."
"Whatever you say, Helga... That sounded better in my head."
"Honestly, I never thought I'd miss hearing that," Helga said with a smile.
The universe is a funny thing, I'd hear Helga comment often. A vast, open realm of infinite possibilities where anything can and will happen, changing the very fabric of our existence and the pathway we take in the future. And yet, despite the multiple realities we could have lived if we chose a different path, the universe, or fate for me, will always dealt the cards you least expected, either because you need it, or on a whim. There is no constant with Fate except for itself. A paradox, a contradiction. Even when I'm far from home, Fate dealt a card that reminds me that home isn't that far off.
A/N - Here with another story.
Honestly, this story had been on my mind since '13, Being in a similar situation as Arnold over here, minus the universe's manipulation in my life. Based on where I lived around college, I decided to do something different. Slice of Life, mayhaps. Who knows.
Enjoy and review, peeps~
Qirtz, signing off~