Helga studied her reflection in the hall mirror. New hairstyle for a new life, she thought as she brushed. Yesterday she had gone to the beauty parlor and got it cut into a layered shag style that framed her face. Not that anyone in this house noticed…
She scowled in the direction of the living room. Big Bob was planted in his armchair, sinking into the permanent cushion dents made over the years by his weight. His eyes were focused on the large TV screen, which was preoccupied at the moment with football commentary. Criminy, all he's been doing this week is watching the Boob Tube. Hello! I'm leaving for college tomorrow! The least you could do is pay attention to me for once in my life!
On the table in front of the mirror was a college catalog that Helga had carried with her downstairs. She picked it up and looked the cover: Happy smiling students painting, sculpting, and whatever else it was that people did at an art college.
In his chair, Bob sighed. "I liked it better when Pat was on."
Helga had come into the room and now approached the giant chair, her catalog clutched in her hands. "Hey Dad, look at the classes I picked out!" He didn't look at her. "I'm going to take a pottery class! I don't really need it but I thought it looked fun…"
"Fun?" Bob scoffed. "College ain't supposed to fun, Kid. You go to a 'fun' college, you spent the rest of your life making fries and fishing kids out of the ball pit."
Helga growled through her teeth like an angry bear. "Fine! Thanks for nothing, Bob! Have fun with John Madden!" She threw the magazine over her shoulder as she stalked out of the living room. "Lousy, stinking…"
As her feet trampled up the steps, Bob hoisted himself out of the chair. Bending down with a pained expression (His knees had had arthritis for two years), he picked up the catalog. He looked upward to where Helga's bedroom would be. In moment her door slammed and he sighed.
There was a pink canvas covered suitcase on Helga's bed and, without bothering to fold them, she began to throw clothes inside. "Stupid Bob! Stupid bloated blowhard!"
She was about to let out a fresh load of curses (A habit she had picked up in high school) when she heard a car door slam. Racing to the bedroom window (and nearly tripping as she did so), she could see a blue sedan in front of the apartment.
"Arnold!" In her excitement she turned to run to the door. This time she did trip, face first in the carpet. Picking herself up, she crawled to the door and pulled herself up by the knob. "Oh my love is here!" Helga sang as she bounced down the stairs. "My Shining Prince of the Stars, the only light in my Heavens that…" She stopped on the last step.
"No! None of that!" She reprimanded herself. "You're not a kid anymore. No more random soliloquies, no bursting into poetry, I just gotta stay cool. After all," She said as she opened the door. "Arnold and I are friends now. It's not like we're still nine…"
Arnold was opening the trunk of his car. He poked his head out and waved.
Helga gave a dreamy giggle, then slapped herself. "Hey Arnold!" She called. "Want some pizza before we start packing?"
Arnold had started to walk up the stoop but stopped short as though he'd hit an invisible brick wall. His cheeks turned red as he stared. "You…got your hair cut."
Helga put her hands over it protectively. "So?"
Arnold quickly looked away. "It looks nice." He mumbled.
Now Helga understood. Nine years ago she would've given her spleen for Arnold to find her attractive. "Oh really?" She teased, patting her hair. "You really, really like it?"
"Uh huh…" Without looking her in the eye, Arnold joined her at the top of the stoop. "So…you said pizza?"
Helga pulled the pizza from the oven. It was one of the frozen kinds from the grocery store and Helga had bought it especially for the occasion.
Our last meal together, she thought sadly as she stared at a gooey piece of cheese hanging over the side of the pizza and onto the tray. Soon I'll be in California and he'll still be here in…
"OW!" She cried, dropping the pizza on top of the table. She had been so distracted by her thoughts she had unwittingly grabbed the tray with her un-mitted hand.
Arnold stood up from the table. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, Football Head." Helga rubbed the burnt spot. "Just me being stupid and not paying attention."
"Did you get a second degree burn?"
"It's too soon to tell," she answered.
Coming over, Arnold grasped her hand. "Let me see."
"Look, I'm fine…"
"It looks really red. You should run it under cool water." Suddenly realizing what he was doing, Arnold's football face flushed. "It should be ok then."
Helga remembered a Valentine's Day years ago where he had kissed her hand and suddenly wished that he would do it again. With Arnold's final return to the city from Europe less than a year ago, the two old classmates had spent their senior year getting to know each other once more. There had been no real dating, no kisses save for one on the cheek at the end of prom. For the first time in her life, it was simply enough for Helga to be near Arnold as just a friend, even though she had never lost those feelings of love. But she found that shrines and spitballs were no longer a necessary means of expressing affection.
"Ah good, pizza." Big Bob entered the kitchen and to her disappointment, Arnold dropped Helga's hand. The Beeper King pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbing a steaming piece.
"No Bob, I don't mind!" said Helga sarcastically. "I made that pizza for Arnold, but if you want a slice go ahead!"
"That's great. Get me a Yahoo, will ya?" Bob said absently as he took a bite.
Helga stomped to the fridge and opened the door roughly. Grabbing the soda, she slammed it closed and stalked to the table. Callously, she dropped the bottle in front of him.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Bob barked. "Careful! I don't want that exploding all over my new shirt when it opens!"
"Well golly gee whiz!" Helga said coldly. "Looks like Big Bob Pataki cares about something besides beepers after all!"
Bob looked at her. "What crawled up your girdle?"
Helga turned red with embarrassment. "I do not wear a girdle!" She shouted.
"Calm down, Girly! It's just a phrase! Criminy!"
Helga snatched a paper plate and dumped a slice of pizza on it. "Come on, Arnold!" She ordered. "Just grab your pizza! We'll eat upstairs as we pack!"
Near the door Arnold grabbed her arm. "Wait Helga! You're leaving for California tomorrow!"
"Yeah so?"
"You won't see your Dad again until Thanksgiving! I don't think you should let things go like this!"
"Oh come on Arnoldo!" Helga cried. "This is Bob! He wouldn't notice if I didn't come home until the Apocalypse!"
"But he's your father."
"You know I can still hear you kids!" Bob called.
"All my life he's ignored me! He's pushed me aside and never given me the slightest thought! He doesn't even care that I'm going to college!"
"Of course I care!" Big Bob said as he stood up. "I've been trying not to think about it all week!"
"See?"
"I mean…" Bob looked flustered. "What I meant…" Helga looked at him sourly and he sighed. "You're going to college and you'll be gone and…and I just don't want to think about it. About you being gone."
Helga's icy face melted. "You mean…you actually do care?"
"Care?" Bob thundered. "I'm darn proud of ya! You're going to one of the best schools in the country! I never even got to go to the school I wanted! You should've heard my old man! 'Scholarship Smholarship!' He said! 'No son of mine is going to Juilliard to play the harp! People'll think you're a fruit!' Sent me to business school instead." He looked down dejectedly. "The truth is…I've always been proud of ya. You never had the trophies or the awards like your sister, but I've always been proud of ya."
For a moment Helga felt like she was about to cry, but she sucked it up. "Aw, jeez Dad…"
Bob walked over and patted her on the shoulder. "You're a good egg, Kid. You turned out all right." Helga smiled. And so did Arnold.
In her room, Arnold frowned at the messy suitcase on Helga's bed. "You won't be able to close that with all the clothes sticking out."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Helga said as she went to the closet and started pulling things off hangers. As she tossed them onto the bed, Arnold picked them up and folded them neatly.
"It seems like just yesterday we were in Pre-K," he said, folding a black button up blouse. "Naptime and stories…"
"Snack time…" Helga added with a smile.
"Yeah…" Arnold looked over his shoulder. "Have you really liked me ever since then?"
Helga blushed and didn't look at him directly. "You shared your umbrella with me…" She mumbled.
"I did?" She nodded. "Wow, who knew one act of kindness could make someone love you all your life?"
"Sometimes that's all it takes."
She tossed a V-necked t shirt on the bed. As Arnold picked it up, he took note of the low cut collar. I wonder how she'd look in this…He looked over at Helga and tried to imagine the shirt on her.
His cheeks became enflamed at the mental picture in his mind. It's not that low cut! Get a grip Arnold!
"Hey Arnold!" Helga was holding a pink and white jumper in front of her. "Think this'll still fit?"
Arnold smiled. "I can't believe you've kept that outfit after all these years!"
Helga cradled the dress. "Well I had some pretty good times in it."
Arnold's attention had been diverted. "Is that what I think it is?"
Helga looked. "Sure is, Football Head."
On a shelf near Helga's bookcase was a picture frame. Inside was a photo, taken by Phil, of Helga and Arnold in their junior year of high school, when Helga had flown to France for a Christmas visit. It was snowing in the picture, and Arnold was offering Helga, both wrapped in heavy jackets, scarves, and gloves, a cup of hot chocolate. It was night time, and the Eiffel Tower could be seen in the background, alight with gold. However, Arnold was looking to the side of the frame.
"My hat?" He walked around the bed and took it off the shelf. "I haven't seen this in years!" He placed it on his head and gave a goofy smile.
Helga laughed. "Not the same without the bald spot is it?"
Arnold took off the hat and handed it to her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pink bow. This time Helga couldn't stop the tears.
"Oh Arnold!" She rushed into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet.
"Whoa!"
"We're never going to see each other again are we?" She said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
"What? Of course we will!"
"No! I'll come home for the holidays, and we might drop in on each other for a few minutes, but you'll be busy with your schoolwork and I'll be busy with mine…"
"Don't say that!" Arnold's eyes were feeling tingly. "Don't ever say that!"
Helga looked at him with wet eyes. "I don't wanna go! I'm going to stay here! I'll find a job and we can see each other every day!"
"Don't be silly! Cal Arts is a great school! It's going to open so many doors for you as a writer! You can't give this up!"
"Oh yes I can…"
"But Helga…"
"I don't wanna go!" She burst out. Turning, she fled from the room, tears streaming down her face.
"Helga!" Arnold's heart plummeted to his sneakers and he sank down on the bed. There was no way Helga could give up California. Not for him. Not for anything. "What can I do?" He said to himself.
Well, if there was something he could do, it was straighten up a little. Helga had been cleaning out the closet and papers were strewn everywhere. "Sheesh," he said as he knelt down, pushing papers into a stack. "Look at all this stuff!"
There were photos and old notes and homework. He smiled as he picked up an old class photo from fourth grade. Faces that he knew well but hadn't seen in years…well, some of them. Gerald was still his close friend and he emailed Phoebe, but many of his old pals had merely become contacts online. Mr. Simmons wasn't even in the country anymore. He had taken a "spiritual pilgrimage" to Tibet, without phone or email.
What else could be in here? He wondered, sifting through the piles. The poster from his magic show, "The Great Arnoldini", an empty gold vial that had once held what, to him, smelled like grape soda, an old tape that must've come from an answering machine (It reminded him of something but he couldn't think of what), and a little pink book.
So it was her book after all, he thought with a smile as he thumbed through it. That explains a lot. He frowned as he came to the last page. Helga had torn it out in a panic and used it as a saliva covered projectile. Sure wish I could've finished that poem.
Arnold set the book down with a sigh. He stared into the vast darkness of the closet. How many hours did she spend in here thinking about me? There were still pictures of him taped inside. Was I really that important? I always thought I was just another average kid, but she must've seen something in me. Something…
Something white caught Arnold's eye. It was a piece of paper, half hidden underneath a pile of shoes. As he pulled it out, he ran his hand over the top of it, trying to smooth out the creases. Looks like a list...Some of the items were crossed out, he noticed. Watch, necklace, sweater, hat…
Arnold frowned. There was something about this piece of paper. Something he just couldn't put his finger on.
Purse, fire engine…What is this? The nagging feeling inside, that he had seen this list somewhere before, wasn't just gnawing at him, it was chewing. I think I've seen this…No, I know I've seen this before. But where? And why would Helga keep an old list like this? She is kind of a packrat, but even so…
Arnold's eyes drifted down to the last item. Startled, he dropped the paper. With shaking hands, he picked it back up. "'Official Nancy Spumoni Snow boots.'" He read out loud. "Oh my…" Jumping to his feet, Arnold bolted for the bedroom door. "Helga!"
Downstairs, Helga had left the door open as she sat on the stoop. She had her head tilted down. Well, this is it Helga Old Girl. I guess you and Arnold weren't really meant to be together after all. After everything, it's all over. I'll get over him…I guess. I mean, I've worshipped the guy for like fifteen years, but I can get beyond it. Just let it go. Maybe it's better for both of us this way.
"Helga!"
She could hear running in the house behind her and she twisted around to get a look. "Arnold?" She stood up. "What's the matter?"
Arnold stopped in the doorframe, leaning against as he panted. "You're my angel!"
"Huh?"
Arnold finally caught his breath. Without a warning, he put his hand on the back of Helga's head and pushed it down toward his until their lips were touching.
Helga's eyes were wide with shock as her knees buckled under her. Arnold stopped and caught her before she hit the ground. "Are you ok?"
Helga had a dazed look and a happy goofy smile as she proclaimed, "Oh Arnold, Beloved Eros to my Tortured Psyche, how my heart burns with the white hot fervor that sparks whenever you are near!" Realizing what she had just said, Helga broke away from Arnold, her cheeks dark red with embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Lost control."
Arnold smiled. "That's the Helga I love. The passionate, fiery girl who loves with everything she's made of. Who gives everything in her heart."
Helga looked like she was dancing on stars. "Y-you really love me?"
"I think I always have," Arnold answered before taking her again. "Go to California, Helga. And don't worry. I'll never let you go. We're meant to be together."
Helga smiled as she placed her head on his shoulder. "Well, Doy…"