JUNE, FOUR MONTHS EARLIER

"I wouldn't worry, baby sister-"

"That's good," I deadpanned while continuing to read my book, "because I'm not worried at all."

I could see her twist to face me with that doe-eyed expression she uses on Miriam and Bob when she needs another ego-boost. "You-you aren't?"

"Nope," I said with a pop of my 'p' while finishing the page I was on and finally turning it to the next. "In fact, it's the furthest thing from my mind seeing as I have this here book I'm reading." I stopped where I was on the page and set the book down open-faced onto my lap.

Olga watched me for a moment; her eyes never straying from mine despite my countless gestures to my book which I was eager to get back to reading.

Eager because it was a good book.

Also eager because if I could just get BACK to reading it, Olga would go away and leave me be in peace with my solitude.

Her expression changed; her lips raising to a weak smile and she nodded her head. "Al-alright, Helga," Olga said softly before standing up and leaning over to kiss the top of my head (much against my will). "I'm sorry I bothered you."

And with that, she made her way out of my room and softly shut the door behind her.

Peace and quiet.


SEPTEMBER, ONE WEEK AFTER THE FUNERAL

If I had to eat ONE MORE finger sandwich the Wellington Lloyds had SO THOUGHTFULLY brought us a nearly WEEK ago, I was going to tear my tongue out and switch to a liquid diet.

Seriously.

The house was so full of bars and cakes and danishes of all varieties that the only food you could eat without getting gut-rot were those damned sandwiches.

And since nobody ELSE in this funeral-parlor-of-a-house was eating, I had consumed nearly two of the four trays of those tiny triangle-shaped turkey demons and my tastebuds could just take NO MORE.

Standing up from my bed I reached down to stretch my hands to my wiggling toes. I'd painted them with Olga while she was still in the hospital, though time was beginning the chip the pink lacquer covering each nail.

Once all the blood had rushed to my head, I closed my eyes and stood there hunched over until I couldn't take it anymore. Within seconds I shot myself back up to let the blood drain from my skull so it could race it's way back down to the rest of my body. My head spun and I kept my eyes closed as I swayed to and fro from the sensation of it all.

Flickering my eyes open, the world around me blurred until my eyes adjusted and I was at last back to normal.

Mostly normal.

At least as normal as Helga G. Pataki CAN be, I guess.

I reached my arms up to the ceiling then; my body elongating itself to as tall as it could go. Tilting my head back, I looked up to my hands which where reaching desperately for the drywall above. A tingling sensation trickled through my arms as I pushed myself higher until dropping them completely; my body feeling awake and rejuvenated from my sixth nap of the day.

I did this every time- it was something Olga had taught me when I was younger and didn't spend most of my time resenting her existence. In her goody-two-shoes-wisdom, 'it's important to wake the body up after you've woken up so your body and your brain can work as one.'

Criminy, no WONDER she was always so bright and cheery all the time, I thought to myself as I approached my bedroom door and slowly reached for the handle.

I didn't want to see what was out there. Last time I left my room (which was two days ago might I add) I found a candlelight vigil in the front room with at LEAST fourteen people I'd never seen before- Big Bob leading them all in a tearful rendition of 'Amazing Grace' which he kept getting choked up during.

The whole thing was just... a little MUCH for me.

Although, not as much as it apparently was for Miriam.

Miriam, had checked herself in.

That's right.

She sent herself to some 'Home for Moms with Lost Children' or something. It sounded mostly like a rehab since the whole Olga-dying-thing had put Mom right back on the path of Alcoholism; a habit she had quit nearly a year ago thanks to Olga herself.

So nowadays, the house was mostly just me and Bob and whoever ELSE decided to stop by and gush about how much they missed Olga and blah blah blah.

It was JUST. TOO. MUCH.

Opening the door, I tiptoed out of my room and into the hallway. It was dark- no lights were on even though it was nearly seven o'clock. My guess was that Bob had fallen asleep on the couch with that framed picture of Olga he was always carrying around.

Slowly, I crept along the hallway in pursuit of getting downstairs; my feet instinctively stopping at the closed door closest to the steps.

Olga's room.

I stared at the door; the letters of Olga's name remaining where they had always been- on a plaque that was nailed to the middle of the door itself. I smirked as I inspected each letter that had faded through the years making the plaque look (in my opinion) tacky and childish. But that was Olga- always hopelessly sentimental and blindly stubborn any time someone went to take it down.

Now nobody ever would, that's for sure.

The house had become a tomb. Pictures of Olga's smiling face lined the walls that made up the hallway. As I walked, my eyes gravitated to each picture residing there, some familiar and some from things I hardly remembered; memories that weren't even mine. Before Miriam left for rehab, she'd spent HOURS one night redecorating the hallway and this was one of two times I'd really seen the work she'd done.

I only remember her doing this because she had kept me up ALL NIGHT with her drunken banging of nails into the walls and nonstop sobbing for which Miriam had become known for since Olga's death. She spent that night replacing EVERY picture and painting with Olga's smiling face as a constant reminder that she had once been alive.

Looking at the pictures now, they were only a constant reminder that she wasn't... at least not anymore.

Tearing myself from the pictures, I pushed myself on to walk down the stairs and swing around using the railing to look inside the living room.

Empty.

I shrugged and wandered to the kitchen; my stomach growling in the demand for some REAL food- something I probably couldn't give it given our inventory of junk food and triangles of bread and turkey.

It was there that I found him- Bob -sitting on the kitchen chair and leaning over to rest his head on the table; Olga's picture just beside him still gripped in his hand. It was a sight to see; the ONLY sight I'd seen for months although it HAD gotten worse since she was actually gone this time.

At least when she was in the hospital they could see her.

Now all he had were pictures and memories.

Oh, and trophies which he spent most nights mindlessly polishing and talking to.

And as much as I don't CARE for my dad or his annoying admiration for my sister, I DID feel bad for the guy. He'd lost the one thing he cared most for and everything that surrounded him were only shells of what once was and never would be again.

I walked over to where he was conked out and tapped on his shoulder. "Dad?" I asked quietly, his groans making him turn his head to the other side.

"O-Olga?" he mumbled and I sighed while dropping my hand from him to rest at my side.

"No dad, it's Helga," I corrected him though he didn't seem to care. Deciding to continue instead of give up like I usually did, I tried again. "You uh... you wanna eat something? Or something?"

"Hmm?" He moaned; his eyes still shut where he half-lay on the kitchen table.

"We could go out... just you and me." I reached up to scratch at my head and cleared my throat. "We could get ribs? Or..." his eyelids flickered open to reveal bloodshot eyes looking lazily up at me as I continued to talk mindlessly. "We could get take-out. I know we don't have coupons or anything..."

He sat up and swallowed while staring down at the picture he was holding. "You...you want food?" He asked me through a gruff voice.

I shrugged. "Yeah. I mean- I guess."

"We have food here, little lady," he said a little harsher this time though still keeping his eyes locked on Olga's permanent smiling face behind the glass of the frame.

"You can only survive on finger sandwiches and junk food for so long, dad. We BOTH could use-"

"You know what I could use?" He suddenly shouted while turning around to look at me where I stood dumbfounded. "I could use my DAUGHTER back- your sister, OLGA," he hollered while holding the picture up to me as if I'd completely forgotten who she was. "REMEMBER HER?"

Realizing this was a lost cause, I reached up to cross my arms over my chest and sighed. "Of course I remember her, DAD, you've never once let me forget who she was."

"What's THAT supposed to mean? You disrespecting your SISTER?! Your DEAD sister!" He was irate now and he forced himself up from the table to loom over me where I stood looking up at him blankly.

"Not at all Bob," I said calmly before breaking our eye contact to turn around and head for the front door.

I heard him take steps after me only to stop where the kitchen ended, "And just where do you think YOU're going?" He demanded as I opened the door and prepared to leave.

Just as I was almost gone, I stuck my head back in the doorway to look at him once more, "Away from this TOMB you've buried yourself in. Olga may be dead, but I'M not." I shook my head angrily before huffing out a breath and muttering to myself as I shut the door, "I'm going to go get a burger or something..."


Slausen's was pretty empty given that it was a Friday night, which I didn't mind. There was something about the ambiance of being the only person in a dive-y burger joint that made me feel safe- safer than I felt at home anyways. The buzzing of the neon signs in the window meshed with the quiet music of the radio playing from the overhead speakers. Plates clanked in the back from being washed and put away and the smell of bleach wafted through the restaurant as the nightly cleaning began for the store's closers.

Closing time was definitely near but, thankfully for me, they weren't closed YET. Slausen's was the only sit-down restaurant open passed seven in this God-forsaken town and I intended to remain here until they kicked my sorry butt out.

I'd come here for that ambiance, the ambiance of a day almost through.

Well, THAT and their award winning burgers and malts.

But once the food was devoured and my stomach was satisfied yet again, and THIS time from something other than fancy-pants appetizers, I was left alone with thoughts and memories I'd been avoiding all day; all WEEK even.

Olga was gone.

ComPLETEly gone.

Not on vacation, not to Alaska to teach little Inuit children, not to anywhere.

Gone.

It was a strange sensation. All my life I'd wished just THAT, for Olga to disappear from my life for good and never bother me again. Yet, now that that wish had come true, I wasn't sure it was one I really should have made in the first place.

Olga was making my life more miserable than she ever had.

By her not being in the picture, my parents were even WORSE parents than they ever were. Miriam wasn't even AROUND anymore and Bob... Bob had become the new Miriam.

And me?

The memory of Olga was too much to handle. I was conflicted with guilt and shame and hurt and...other...feelings... that I didn't even know who I was anymore.

If I wasn't Olga's 'dear little baby sister'... then who WAS I?

RINGALINGALING, the bell atop Slausen's front door sang in it's high-pitched ring. Instinctively I turned to look and see who had entered only to frown at the realization of who it was.

Phoebe.

She'd found me.

Dammit...

"I thought I might find you here," she squeaked while heading to the booth I had hidden myself in and soon sitting down in front of me. "I've been trying to contact you all day, Helga."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said with slight annoyance as I played with a stub of a fry and some excess ketchup.

"I'm surprised you've remained at home after...everything." She murmured; her eyes glancing down as I continued to paint my plate with the ketchup and fry as my tools.

"It's not like I have much else I can do."

"You could come stay with me... at my apartment." She offered though I was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"Not if Gerald is there."

"But Helga-" She tried and I cut her off immediately.

"Phoebe, I don't need him and his attitude right now. I don't need a normal life because it isn't like I've even ever HAD one, okay? I'm..." I struggled to find the word, "I'm..."

Phoebe let out a breath and reached over to touch my hand as it stabbed the stubby fry into the plate. "You're mourning, Helga. Whether you like to admit it or not, it is a natural process of losing a loved one."

Keeping my eyes away from hers, I shrugged and quietly said, "I'm not mourning, Pheebs,"

"You can deny it all you wish," she countered, her eyes hot on me as I stared downward, "but you need somewhere to stay and given the circumstances-"

"WHAT circumstances?" I snapped while looking up at her though she only continued.

"-you really should distance yourself from such painful memories at this time." Phoebe finished before patting my hand twice and returning hers to her lap.

"Painful? Pssh," I faked while wiping my hand on my napkin. "The only thing PAINFUL about that house is my dad and HIS mourning. Pheebs- it's worse than it EVER was, I'm telling you."

A small half-smile tugged on Phoebe's lips and she shrugged her small shoulders. "All the more reason to take some time to yourself until everyone has mourned properly and in their own, valid ways."

I watched her for a moment; my eyes inspecting every detail that made up her facial expression before me.

"And if I DID come to stay with you?" I asked hesitantly with a slight tip of my head.

Her smile widened and she leaned in towards me, "I'd help you to the best of my ability in whatever you need."

I nodded my head a few times while considering her offer. "Alright... alright, Pheebs. I'll bite. But on ONE condition."

She raised her brow, "What's that?"

I reached over for my napkin and brought it up to wipe my face before gingerly setting it down beside me and then crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "I don't want to see Arnold. Not once."


This story, i will say, is a very different kind of story than I have ever written. It is going to delve deep into the character that is Helga G. Pataki and the relationship she had/has with her sister, Olga. Other characters will also come in to play as the chapters move on.

Stay tuned- i promise you this will be one of the best fics i have ever written.

-Polka