Endgame
At twenty seven, beautiful and successful one could easily say that Helga Pataki was on top of the world. During her first year of High School her English teacher had pulled her to one side and spoken to her quite seriously for several minutes about utilising her talent for writing. Helga had considered it briefly then within minutes of entering the lunch room and finding her best friend waiting for her had completely forgotten about it.
It was two weeks before the same teacher had presented her with the past five issues of the Hillwood Confidential and requested she join the newspaper to bring some life back to journalism. That night wrapped up in a duvet and sipping hot chocolate she had read some very good articles and some very bad articles and found that the one thing they had in common was they lacked oomph.
Oomph, a word she would never use academically but rather enjoyed the feel of it on her tongue, it was a meaty word with power and purpose and that was exactly what was missing from the newspaper.
The next day she presented the editor of the newspaper, a freckled brunette named Alison an article on how the current health care system was affecting college and university students. Ten minutes later she was being introduced as the newest edition to the Confidential team and was told to write a farewell article on the soon to be retired Mr Morrison, an art teacher.
By the time she was a senior Helga was the editor of the Confidential and had won three young journalism awards as well as a place at her school of choice Columbia.
Needless to say nobody was surprised when she graduated top of her class and went on to work with the New York Times.
Six years of working for the New York Times had found Helga sitting pride of place behind the editor's desk of the Chicago Tribune, a feat even she found to be rather unbelievable and when nobody was looking she pinched herself several times in order to prove she wasn't dreaming.
So that was it that was why Helga G Pataki was thought to be on top of the world.
If she had anybody to talk to she would have told them it was a lie, she was as far from on top of the world as she could be. But then again that was part of the problem; she didn't have anybody to talk to.
She rang her best friend Phoebe once a week to catch up with the gossip, living in one of Chicago's suburbs Hillwood Phoebe wasn't that far away that she couldn't see her more often. Unfortunately for Helga though Phoebe had married the man of her dreams and gone to medical school to become a doctor, between working all the hours under the sun and keeping her marriage a happy one she didn't have the time to devote to Helga's amusement. But that was right and fair and Helga didn't expect her to drop everything to cater to her every whim, they were adults now and dammit if they weren't going to act like adults.
Arnold Shortman was a photographer and a pretty good one if he did say so himself. His interest in technology had spread to cameras during Junior High but it was only when he had spent several summers in South America searching for his parents that he truly began to adore taking photos. Capturing images of the plane wedged firmly in the branches of a giant tree, huts that could only have been used by his parents and proof they were alive and finally the green eyed people who recognised Arnold for his parents and informed him that Miles and Stella were alive.
Meeting his parents after such a long time apart had been both joyous and bittersweet. Reunited with his family filled him with such incredible love and excitement but each hug each kiss each exclamation of happiness was tinged with anger, hurt and a barrage of questions. Why didn't they try to get back? Why did they stay? Didn't they love him anymore? Why no word, no letter, no call? Nothing! Sixteen years and not a single damn word! Hell he was seventeen and had to find them himself and here they were not dead like he had imagined in his darkest fears but alive and happy.
There were no answers for these questions because he wouldn't ask them. Wouldn't cause a flash of hurt or guilt in their shining eyes, wouldn't ruin this moment he'd been waiting for his entire life. So he buried these feelings and concentrated on being happy and he understood when they said they couldn't live in the city anymore and they wouldn't be moving back with him. But they would call and write after they promised to move somewhere with electricity, even if the power wasn't stable and the government like its power supply. And besides he was nearly an adult and didn't need them the same way and the green eyed people did and they made a promise to help and would stand by that promise. He would visit each summer and maybe one day he could work in San Lorenzo and help the people in the same way his parents had helped.
So he went to college and studied photography in New York and won prizes for his images of South America and the contrasts between upscale New York and the poverty stricken San Lorenzo. After college he worked freelance for a year while he wondered what he was going to do with his life, finally he found his calling when he was hired by the National Geographic magazine as their photographer. Travelling the world he saw some of the most amazing views and utilised his seemingly endless supply of patience to take photographs other photographers would have given up waiting for hours before.
This free and easy life style had come to and end when he was 26 when Grandpa died at the age of 98. Gertie had died three years previously leaving Grandpa to live by himself in the Sunset Arms though he was cared for by the kindness and sweet nature of Susie Kokoshka and her husband Oscar.
By the terms and conditions of the will Arnold was now sole proprietor of the boarding house and moved back to Hillwood to run his childhood home.
Quickly realising that he couldn't run a boarding house and travel the world taking photographs Arnold thanked his lucky stars for five years of living his dreams and focused his efforts on rebuilding the now dilapidated home.
For a year Arnold focused on rebuilding his childhood home using a mixture of his savings and a few bank loans but as time went by he began to realise that he couldn't live off of his savings forever especially as much of it was tied up in renovations. With a calculator in one hand and a pencil in the other he began jotting down numbers on a legal pad and came to the realisation he could last three more months before he would absolutely have to get a job. Knowing that a photographer couldn't get work by looking in the classifieds he pulled out the ridiculously expensive mobile phone his previous girlfriend had insisted he buy and scrolled through the address book looking for a familiar name. Jeremy K was a third of the way down between Ingrid B and Jonathan R and pressing the button to dial his friend he kept his fingers crossed that it wouldn't prove a fruitless call.
"Arnie my friend, this is a pleasant surprise. What do you want?"
"What makes you think I want anything? I could just be calling to say hello and enquire after your wife and children."
"Except that you never do that." Jeremy said bluntly his English accent sounding particularly broad across the phone.
"Well you're right, I do need something."
"Of course you do now be a good boy and tell me what it is you want, I'm baking biscuits with the twins."
Smirking Arnold paused for a moment to gather his thoughts then said, "I need a job, something steady and preferably in the Chicago area."
"I don't know anything off the top of my head but I can ask around."
"Thanks Jay I owe you one, give my love to Helen and the twins." Hanging up he sighed, Jeremy would come through for him he always did; they had met at 13000 feet over the Atlantic and passed the time discussing life. That was when Arnold had discovered that Jeremy knew things; he had contacts coming out of the wazoo and could hook anybody up with anyone providing he thought you were worth it. Nothing illegal and nothing seedy he just knew who was hiring or who could help you meet your favourite author/artist/actor etc… Though he always joked that one day Arnold would have to repay the favour he had yet to actually want anything and always shrugged off Arnold's insistence that he do something, anything to pay him back.
Tidying his notes away he found himself content to just wait for Jeremy to contact him and felt that strangely enough he felt better knowing his friend was on the case. A hard working northern born bloke Jeremy wouldn't let him down, something about his Manchester sensibilities not allowing him to disappoint a mate. Then he'd usually start to rant about Alex Ferguson ruining Manchester United which was when Arnold tuned out of the conversation and was content to nod and smile.
"Arnold, the workmen have arrived." Standing up Arnold turned to face Susie Kokoshka who even in her forties looked as young and sweet as ever despite having a wastrel for a husband.
"Thanks Susie are they starting on the roof today I want to get it finished before winter hits."
"Sweetie it's November they have a full month before winter."
"What if we have storms or an early snow?"
"Arnold you really need to get out of the house, you're going to drive yourself crazy, why don't you call on a friend and relax for the day."
Slumping in his seat Arnold had to admit that she was right, he was driving himself crazy. He hadn't gotten out of the house properly in weeks and except for an occasional trip to the store to buy milk he ordered all of his food online from the local superstore. He wasn't even sure why he was making a hermit of himself, he just was. When he'd first moved back he'd promised himself he would go and call on everyone, his school friends his neighbours everyone. Then the problems with the repairs started and he'd pushed it aside as something to do later, maybe next week. Next week turned to next month and before he knew it a year had passed and he'd only seen Gerald a handful of times and had a flying visit from Harold who had seen the state of the house and declined to come in not wanting to risk knocking something over with his eternal clumsiness.
Standing he ran a hand through perpetually messy hair and stretched enjoying the feel of stiff joints popping and muscles being loosened.
"When you're right, you're right. I'll go see how Gerald is doing and take things from there."
"Call if you're not going to be back for dinner."
"Will do."
Slipping his phone into his pocket he shrugged his jacket on and exited the kitchen pausing briefly to speak to the building foreman before leaving the boarding house.
"Gerald do you want beans or carrots tonight?" Phoebe asked as she wrote out a shopping list.
Standing in front of the sink Gerald ran a sponge over a dish and said thoughtfully, "How 'bout neither."
"Gerald you know what Doctor Steiglitz said, you have to have five portions of fruit or vegetables a day to keep healthy and keep that inherited high blood pressure from giving you a stroke."
Rolling his eyes Gerald rinsed the dish and sighed, "Fine I'll have the carrots; just don't expect me to like them." Smiling sweetly Phoebe stood and moving behind her husband gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Nobody said anything about liking them baby."
Turning Gerald caught Phoebe's upper arms and kissed her softly, sensing his wife's appreciation of the kiss he began to deepen it until a knocking on the door made them jump apart.
"God damn it, it better not be Jehovah's Witnesses." He said with a chuckle as he gave Phoebe one more kiss and then moved to open the door.
"Hey Gerald."
"Do I know you?"
"Gerald it's me!"
"Well…you look like my old friend Arnold, but he never visits, he just holes himself up in his dead grandparents house and never visits his best friend and best friends gorgeous wife."
Laughing Arnold bowed his head apologetically, "I'm sorry Gerald I meant to visit I really did, but before I knew it it'd been two months."
"Yeah well get your butt in here, Pheebs will be thrilled to see your sorry ass." Grinning Arnold entered his best friend's home and moved towards the kitchen where a petite Asian woman flung herself in his direction wrapping him in a welcoming hug.
"Arnold welcome! Why didn't you visit sooner?"
"I'm sorry."
"Well you better be you're just lucky you caught us both off work."
"Busy at the hospital?"
"I'm doing a ninety hour week right now because of a flu virus that's knocked out most of the doctors, luckily they're getting their whiny asses over that and coming back to work. I got a few days off."
"You've been spending way too much time around Gerald."
Grinning Phoebe pushed him into a chair and set the kettle to boil for tea. Gerald carried on washing dishes and Arnold took a moment to survey the kitchen. Painted a terracotta colour, baked dough ornaments hung on the walls surrounded by food related artwork. On one wall three shelves were filled with pans, cook books and dried food and a large ginger cat sat on the end of the shelf staring at Arnold through sleepy eyes. "The kitchen looks great."
"I like to think so, you should see the living room it looks even better." Gerald remarked swiping at the dining table with a cloth.
"We have one of your photos framed, the image of Mount Saint Helens at dawn."
"You kept that?"
"Arnold that was one of your first big selling pieces." Phoebe said with an air of pride, smiling Arnold accepted the freshly brewed cup of tea and asked,
"So have you heard from anyone else lately?"
"Harold's doing well as Mr Green's partner, he's known around the area as the first Jewish butcher to sell pork products, even if he hates it."
"Why does he do it then?"
"Because Mr Green sold pork products and Mr Green's father sold pork products, Harold is big on tradition. Anyway, Nadine is working as a professor of entomology at the University of Illinois, no real surprise there. Lila and Stinky married but divorced a year later, rumour has it she's engaged to someone else."
"Yeah, Arnie."
"Your creepy little cousin? What on earth was she thinking?" Arnold grinned he had gotten over his crush on Lila in Middle School but had thought the same thing when they had announced their upcoming union the previous month. Phoebe opened her mouth to continue when Arnold's phone began to ring and he fumbled in his pocket to answer it. "Sorry, I'll just be a minute. Hello?"
"Arnold love this is your lucky day! I hear there's a rather large newspaper in Chicago in dire need of a good photographer, I got you an interview for next Monday at eleven, take your portfolio. Helen sends her love and says you must come round for a meal sometime." After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Jeremy Arnold hung up the phone and found Gerald and Phoebe watching him expectantly,
"I have an interview with the Chicago Tribune on Monday." Watching them exchange uneasy glances he frowned, "What, that's a good thing."
"We know it is Arnold, but do you know who is interviewing you?"
"The editor, he didn't give me the name."
Sitting down Gerald ran a hand through his dark curls and said awkwardly, "Arnold, the editor is Helga."
End part one
A/N: This is the first Hey Arnold story I've written in a long time. I enjoyed writing it.
If I've made any mistakes regarding anything to do with American life I apologise, I'm English and am only going by what I see on tv and read in books. Hopefully nothing will be too blatant.
I placed Hillwood as a suburb of Chicago because it seemed like a good idea at the time, it was just a random placement.
As for Arnold's last name I read an interview with Craig Bartlett in which he alluded that Arnold's last name was something his grandpa called him all the time, Shortman is the only thing his grandpa called him all the time. Unless his name is Arnold Never Eat Raspberries which would make a brilliant name but not very likely.
Oh and sorry for the Jehovah's Witness joke, I didn't intend to offend anyone, I have no problem with people of any religion and the jokes are not intended to be offensive.
So review and tell me what you think, constructive criticism please no flames.