Disclaimer: I do not own HA! or any other title.
AN: Finally finished the second half. No, it's not nearly as extensive as the first, but it should suffice. Enjoy.
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"It's ringing," Helga shivered, goosebumps compelling each individual hair she possessed to stand upright. The surreal sensation exhilerated her until a surly voice roared through the receiver.
"Hillwood Career Center, how may I direct your call?"
I can't believe I'm actually calling Arnold's work! I must be insane! That is...if this actually is where Arnold works. Maybe he owns the place. Who knows?
"Hello? This is Hillwood Career Center, how may I direct your call?" the ungracious voice repeated.
"Uh...oh! Yeah!" Deductive reasoning aided her in requesting the correct branch. She inhaled deeply, continuing her pursuit. "Employment department, please."
This wasn't the first time Helga experienced an accelerated heart rate pulsating throughout the ends of her fingertips and it most likely wouldn't be the last. Brad eyeing her intently hindered her successive efforts to quit quivering uncontrollably as she stood before him with her cell phone squeezed into her cheek. Although she remained grateful he'd rescued her from her embarrassing scenario on the corner of Third and Vine, her endeavor to make amends was her obstacle alone to overcome. She knew he was fair in asking her if Arnold's friendship proved worthwhile if he chose to deny her, but he couldn't possibly conceive the heartache she'd endure if such and outcome actually occured nor could he ever realize, no matter the brand, the love she felt for this man she felt from the core of her soul.
Anyone can tell me whether Arnold's friendship is worthy or not, but no one can tell me or change how I feel.
"Welcome to Hillwood Employment. For available opportunities, press one, to reach one of our counselors, press two, to talk to an operator, please pre-"
"All right! All right!" Helga set her cell phone opposite her face, hollering into the mouthpiece. "Stupid automated system! First I get a disrespectful receptionist and now this?! Guess I'll just press one."
Brad, who remained seated with his arms folded over his guitar, shook his head while exhibiting a row of glistening teeth. She presumed he considered her ordeal a comedic standup performance in a sleazy night club, but she paid him no concern.
"Hillwood Employment, would you like to schedule an interview for one of our career counseling positions?" a honey tongued voice offered.
"Actually, I don't know if this is the right department, but I need to speak with Ar-" the sweet voice cut Helga's demand short, spouting a list of standard requirements needed for the aforementioned profession. "...and you'll need to bring your resume along with a valid I.D. and social sec-"
"Look, lady, I don't care about all that!" she tapped her right foot on the grass impatiently, rolling her eyes toward Brad, "I just wanna-"
"You'd like to schedule an interview? Great! First and last name, please."
"Ugh!" Helga tugged her hair in frustration, but decided adhering to the receptionist's commands might be beneficial. "Helga Pataki."
"Helga Pataki. Let's see...we have an afternoon opening on Tuesday, so I'll put you down for 2:30 pm on Tuesday with Dr. Shortman. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Did she say Dr. Shortman? Man, I hope this is a job he does on the side.
"Um, no." She let her cell phone fall to her hip.
"Have a pleasant day!"
"Uh...what the hell just happened?" Helga stared at her new companion who shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
Why do I feel like I just made a doctor's appointment? That's it. I'm totally insane.
"Seems you're going through an awful lot of trouble to get a hold of this Arnold guy." Brad stretched both arms over his shoulders seemingly bored, allowing his guitar case to slip past his thighs and hang along the edge of his knees.
"Hey! You're the one who told me to call him!" she pointed an incriminating finger into his nose.
"I never told you to call him," he countered, elevating those same knees, letting his guitar fall back into his lap, "I merely suggested you call him, and I have a couple more questions for you. First question, why didn't you just ask the initial receptionist for Arnold instead of going through all that interview scheduling mess?"
Stupid smart ass! Whoa, that was an oxymoron, but he does have a point.
"Well, it's like this," she began pacing franticly, "I need time to mentally prep for a situation such as this one."
Helga unraveled her childhood tale of parental neglect and how Arnold filled that unnecessary void in her life by actually acknowledging she existed. From that day forward, her heart's unquestionable affection for the boy kept growing until it evolved into an unhealthy desire beyond her control. She explained to Brad, although she outgrew this obsession later in life, no other man would ever replace the unrivaled love her soul held for this man. Yes, she remained happily married, but still undoubtedly believed Arnold to be her true soulmate. She dared anyone convince her otherwise.
"All right," Brad lifted an eyebrow, deliberating thoughtfully with a fist under his chin, "now I have more questions, but I'm going to ask you this one next. I realize you're happily married, have a daughter, etc. and I understand your relationship with Arnold, but how come you never hooked up with that blue haired dude you mentiioned earlier. You seemed rather fond of him."
"That guy?! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!" Helga slapped her hands on her knees, breaking into a fit of hysterical laughter. "Oh, man! You're killing me, Brad!"
Was I so delusional after I regained consciousness I spilled random bits from my past to him?! How embarrassing!
"What?" he rendered a look resulting in her irrational fear he might fetch a straight jacket from his guitar case. "Are you finished?"
"No. HA! HA! HA! HA! All right, now I'm finished," she returned, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. "As much as I adore that guy, I don't think so!"
"Why not?"
Helga suspected Brad concentrated halfheartedly on that particular section of her 'tell all' life story, so she marched swiftly to his bench, straddled his legs, set her elbows onto his guitar case and peered directly into his eyes. She then proceeded to brush her lengthened index fingers against one another softly. Executing a visual demonstration proved necessary since he failed to pay attention earlier. He backed away slightly, his expression invoking the straight jacket fear oncce again, but he removed her arms from his intrument case, situating them along each side of her body gently. Arising into a standing position, she waited patiently for a response.
"Sorry, I didn't know," he resumed cradling his chin with the palm of his hand, "but you could have just told me instead of throwing out an animated gesture. At least you're laughing and smiling now. I didn't like seeing you so depressed."
"Heh, heh. Yeah," she agreed, smiling a lopsided half smile. "I can't explain it, but thinking about him always lifts my spirits. He's kinda like a feel good memory for me. I imagine he doesn't have long blue hair anymore and I'd like to think he's engaged or married to his significant other by now, but don't quote me on that. The truth of the matter is, that was so many years ago, he probably doesn't even remember me. However, I never felt the same way about him as I do Arnold. He's kinda like the friend I never had. Arnold, on the other hand, embraces the pit of my existence, like a soulmate. You understand, right?"
"Yes," Brad extended his neck forward, giving her his undivided attention, "which brings me to my third question. Do you actually recognize which definition of soulmate you mean when referring to Arnold? There are several, you know."
"Transcendental? I think?"
Helga defined her relationship with Arnold as one she, herself, deemed truly essential. He'd always been her friend, confidant, teacher, guide, mentor, and so much more throughout the years she naturally felt at ease around him. Though Phoebe Heyerdahl fit this exact description, it was Arnold whom she felt her heart would never abandon.
Brad must think I'm still totally obsessed with Arnold, but it's not like that. I just want to make things right, and I really want to see him again...even if that means it's the last time I see him.
"With that answer," he replied, "I have one final question. Say everything goes smoothly. You apologize, he forgives you, and you finally get the closure you've so desperately sought. Arnold, your so called soulmate, who's finally fulfilled your need, is free. What will you do? Will you, yourself, then and only then, be willing to let go?"
"I never really thought about it like that." Worry infiltrated Helga's mind. "I honestly don't know."
"It'll be all right," he reassured her as he jumped up from his bench, strapping his guitar case back over his shoulder, "I know you'll figure it out once you talk to him. Now, if you'll please forgive me, I have to go. It's almost time for my lesson, and you should be getting back to your family."
"It was nice meeting you," Helga embraced him unexpectedly a second time, "and thank you for everything."
"Hey, I didn't do anything special," he denied, "I'm just glad I was able to help. Oh, one last thing before I leave. Don't back out on me."
"Don't worry. I won't," she affirmed while seeing him off to the park's front entrance. Once they reached the gate, he issued her a single wave goodbye and departed down the sidewalk.
Don't worry, Brad. I've never backed out on Arnold, even when my actions were irresponsible, and I won't back out on him now.
Tuesday afternoon arrived finding Helga dressed in what she considered appropriate interview attire. The navy blue skirt and jacket paired along with a white button up blouse didn't suit her style, but if this was her one chance to see Arnold, she might as well look professional. She stared at the immense brick red building, observing a large populace entering and exiting through a pair of glass doors that read Hillwood Career Center. A digruntled yong man around college age lamented how much he detested community service as he ran down a small flight of steps leading to the entrance. He then went on to say the place needed a more organized staff, brushing past her rather quickly. It appeared to Helga, if Arnold actually owned the career center(it used to be his number after all) someone else must be running the establishment. As long as she'd known him, he'd always kept whatever project or dispute he was working on operating smoothly.
"Good luck, lady," the young gentleman shouted at her, "you're gonna need it!"
"Thanks!" she shouted back, opening the glass door on her right with severe apprehension.
Inside the entrance, Helga's tension eased off a bit, but she knew this feeling was only temprorary. To her left, a dark haired, female receptionist sat at her desk conversing pleasantly with a client. On her right, a windowed room occupied itself with cubicles full of employees either hacking away at their computers, communicating through a headset, or partaking in both. Directly in front of her, a steel door marked 'counseling room' caught her attention. She figured it might be a lecture hall providing enough space for group meetings, especially if this specific center participated in community service. If this center did indeed belong to Arnold, then he still embodied his true noble self.
"Oh, hello, dear," the dark haired recptionist at the desk addressed her accordingly, allowing her client enough time to leave the vicinity. "You must be the the 2:30 interview. Dr. Shortman apologizes in advance, but he's running a little late today. He told me he won't be too long, so you can wait in his office. Follow me. My name's Sally, bye the way."
Sally led Helga down a dimly lit corridor, reminding her fluorescent bulbs sometimes refused to stablilize. The continuous series of doors on either side brought distant memories of herself as a pigtailed youngster wandering through the halls of P.S. 118 Elementary School. In some respects, those faded pictures chilled her spirit, so she concentrated on Sally's bright pink skirt, almost hurtling into her after they'd arrived at Arnold's office. She apologized repeatedly, but the surprisingly pleasant receptionist brushed it off.
"No worries, dear, it is I who should be apologizing to you," she admitted, unlocking the freshly painted yellow door. "I'm notorious for making abrupt stops. Heh, heh. Here we are. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. Dr. Shortman should be with you shortly."
Helga inspected her surroundings, taking in all the personal effects exclusively belonging to Arnold. The potato clock he used to use as an alarm rested on a large shelf side by side with his junior chemistry set along with a few other knicknacks he'd proudly displayed in the boarding house's attic. In Gerald Johanssen's words, the man never ceased to amaze her, especially since this antiquated device currently presented the correct time, but what peaked her curioustity most was the ornate picture frame standing precisely in front of her on top of Arnold's desk. She whirled it around, revealing a handsome family of three. His wife never lived in Hillwood as a child, which meant Helga never acquainted herself thoroughly with the woman, but she seemed nice upon being intorduced to her. That was the only occasion she'd engaaged in conversation with Mrs. Shortman, but she distinctly recalled Marie coming home from P.S. 118 Middle Schoool with frazzled hair and a soot covered face due to their daughter Angel's enthusiastic interest in her father's occupation. She also remembered the teenager's striking resemblence to Arnold if he might have been a girl at that age. Laughing aloud, she reminisced about all the wild shenanigans she used to drag poor Phoebe into just to spend time with the man she would soon encounter. Her laughter subsided once she heard the sound of keys unlatching the deadbolt. Even if she felt a strong desire to rush madly out the door, she acknowledged the fact it was too late to back out of the plan now.
"Good afternoon," a blurred lab coat duplicating Arnold's voice greeted her politely, "I'm really sorry for being late to your interview. Traffic is really bad at this hour, particularly on days I'm coming from Hillwood National Laboratory. Please allow me to put a few of my things away and then we'll get started."
I'm scared! I'm scared! I'm scared! I'm so scared I think my heart just took an acid trip into my stomach! This is it...my one chance to set things right. Freaking out is not an option and I promised myself I'd see this through no matter what.
"Now all that's taken care of," Arnold continued, turning around slowly to take a seat in his chair, "let's begin. What interested you in wanting to become a career counselor, Ms...Mrs...holy shi-Helga Pataki?! No, Pataki's your maiden name. So, why do you want to work for Hillwood Career Center?"
Helga sucked in her breath, absorbing every detailed feature carved into the man's face. Although he'd aged somewhat he still echoed the same Arnold from ten or more years ago. If she were to glance at his tall lean frame from behind, with the exception of his notable football head, she might mistake him for his dad or his grandpa. The developing crow's feet and dark circles under his eyes only emphasized the aging process, but oh, those beautiful, bright green eyes! She could lose herself in those eyes, even today, but his poker face expression told her otherwise.
"I use my given name for the most part," she answered shakily, but continued her resolve, "and I don't. Can I ask you a couple of questions?"
"Go ahead," he fed her an emotionless response.
"Do you own this building and what department do you work in at the National Laboratory?"
"No. I leased this building because I wanted to help people who are either in between jobs, struggling to find employment, or just starting out," he explained, tapping his pencil on his desk. "We also offer community service progams for our P.S. 118 High students and as you might have noticed, we're transitioning to an automated answering system."
"Oh, so that's why your phone operator was so rude." Helga struggled to refrain from drumming her fingers on her lap. "He's losing his job."
"No, all our phone operators are keeping their jobs," Arnold corrected. "They'll just be working in a different department, and to answer your other question, I work in biological research down at the lab."
"Huh," she raised her eyebrows in surprise, "I would've pegged you for a chemist."
"That would be my daughter."
"Angel? Oh yeah! I'll bet the aspriring chemist is well on her way to becoming a real one now heh, heh, heh!"
He at first seemed startled by her casual outburst, but then started chuckling himself, probably remembering the day Angel returned home with the same frazzled hair and soot covered face as Marie.
"Look, I didn't really come here for an interview," she ultimately admitted to him. "Can we talk? You and me? One on one?"
"How about I write this interview off as a counseling session?" he proposed, leaning back in his desk chair with a slight grin on his face.
Stand up. Push your chair in. Now take a deep breath, Helga and let go.
"What I really came here to tell you...is that I'm sorry..."
Helga learned from uttering these two words, she'd subsequently conquered her greatest personal hardship, and regardless of it's outcome, she now welcomed any new challenge life delivered.
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AN: Constructive criticism always welcome. Thank you so much for reading.