December 16, 2006

Arnold slammed the door shut as he made his way out into the cold frosty December morning, his breath catching in his throat as he took his first steps down the stoop of the boarding house before turning left and heading down the block. "So much for reliving happy memories", he grumbled to himself, burying his nose in his scarf as he quickened his pace.

Shoving clenched fists into his winter coat, Arnold walked south, passing P.S. 118 as he thought about that first day back. It had been clear, warm and sunny, with the children of the neighborhood chasing wildly after the Jolly Olly man or running through open fire hydrants. Okay, so maybe the day wasn't warm, and maybe it had been rather humid (though it compared nothing to the perpetually wet air of the San Lorenzo rain forest), but Arnold had been so happy since his parents had told him of their plans to return, that he hadn't noticed. It was like tunnel vision really; a tunnel that led to vivid images of childhood memories long since passed.

"Maybe that is why I didn't notice they were hiding something," he thought bitterly as he turned into Hillwood's small park. He shivered as a sudden gust of wind blew against him, forcing him to duck his head and take a step back to bear the full brunt of its force.

Much like his time since returning to Hillwood, the winter was shaping up to be harsh. The leaves had fallen quickly from the trees in early November leaving them barren by the first of the month. The temperature had not been any better. Over the past few weeks, it had more often than not, dropped below 20 degrees Fahrenheit. As a result, the park was often empty and had unconsciously become one of Arnold's favorite routes when setting out to clear his mind.

And he had a lot of things to clear from his mind. Like how his grandfather and contracted heart disease two years ago and his parents had just decided it would be a good time to return to Hillwood, when his grandfather had already started deteriorating and was just waiting for death. Why hadn't they told him sooner? Why hadn't they come back sooner?

Arnold groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes, shaking his head furiously. Those were the kind of dangerous thoughts he wanted to out of his head, not in it. It wasn't his parent's fault. They were good people and they had the best intentions.

They always had the best intentions.

Pushing past another strong gust of wind, Arnold made his way towards the center of the park, plopping down on a familiar bench. He pulled out his mp3, plugging his headphones into his ears before leaning his head back and closing his eyes to concentrate on his breath.

He was awakened from his daze by the sudden sensation of a snowflake falling on his button-nose, and all too quickly, he became aware of the numbness of his own body. He stood, and while trying to ignore the feeling of pins and needles shooting through his legs, reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone flipping it open to check the time: 6:15 pm. About two hours had passed since he'd left home and he had a total of 8 missed phone calls.

He quickly scrolled through his calls: 6 from his parents and 2 from Lila. A lopsided grin graced his boyish face when he saw that she had not only called, but sent him a message as well.

Dinner next Friday night?

'Well, at least one thing in my life seems to be going right." he thought to himself as he typed out an affirmative response. Smiling, he reread his message before clicking send, his mood improving suddenly with the knowledge that he had a date with his soul mate on Friday.

He stretched his arms above his head, rubbing at the kinks in his neck before deciding it was time to head back. Ambling his way through the park, he took in the colors of the changing sky as it danced between hues of orange and pink. It was beautiful, and it reminded him of a certain someone.

A certain someone whose long golden hair resembled that of a princess in a fairytale his grandfather once read him. Especially now, when it was being whipped about by a sudden gust of wind as she stood in the middle of the park's bridge, arms wrapped tightly around herself, head lifted towards the heavens as the soft glow of the setting sun illuminated the fresh tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

'What is she doing here?' he thought, as he suddenly froze in his tracks, struck by the sad beauty of it all.

He hesitated, lips curving into a frown as he contemplated his now distant relationship with Helga G. Pataki. She had not only actively ignored him since his return, but had time and time again shunned him with glaring eyes that showed nothing but contempt. He let his gaze fall to the ground.

Would she ignore him again? He tried to ignore the tightening of his chest and instead focused on distant memories of the two as children. His mind flashed back to the last time he had seen her on this bridge, when they were nine-years old and he was hurting. Drawing his shoulders back, he raised his head taking his first step towards her. 'She comforted me, and I should return the favor,' he thought to himself.

The next step. 'I can see her breath in the air. She shouldn't be crying here all alone, especially not in this weather.'

Another step. 'But she looks so beautiful. Why is she out here anyway?"

One more step.

Snap.

Arnold looked down at the branch he just mutilated with his foot, unsure if it was the branch or the rapid movement of her thin neck that made such a revolting sound. 'Well I guess it doesn't matter now,' he thought as he watched her cerulean eyes widen first with shock and then with something bordering on terror. He cringed, hating that he had caused that expression.

Taking a deep breath in, he took large strides forward, stopping within arms length of her body. His eyes scanned her thin frame and watched in horror as she shivered uncontrollably. How had he not realized sooner she was out without a coat?

He quickly unraveled his scarf and began to wrap it around her. Her eyes softened as she reached up to touch the forest green wool with her fingertips. "Helga." her name escaped his lips in a breathy whisper and he instantly regretted how feeble he sounded. Clearing his throat he spoke more firmly. "Your hands."

Suddenly she felt the warmth of his large calloused palms surrounding her thin fingers as he rubbed furiously to create friction. "They're so cold." He whispered to himself, raising their hands to his lips before breathing gently. His eyes lifted to meet hers as he half-heartedly began to berate her. "Geez Helga, what were you thinking? Why don't you have a coat?" Letting go of her hands, his gaze shifted downwards as he focused on unbuttoning his duffel jacket. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he began to slide an arm out of its sleeve. "What are you doing out here any ... oomph"

There was a sharp pain in his shoulder as she pushed passed him, hurrying in the direction he came. "Wait, Helga! Where are you going?" He followed after her, shouting against the wind. "Your home is the other way and it's too cold for you to be out here without a jacket. Hey Helga, HEY!" His steps quickened and his voice rose as he again reached out, this time managing to wrap a hand around her slim wrist.

"Would you just stop for a moment? I mean, jeez, what is wrong with you?" She yanked her wrist from his grasp and Arnold drew back his hand, realizing too late the mistake he had made. In trying to comfort her he had lost his temper, again. He pinched the bridge of his nose sighing in frustration. Her shoulders were shaking and he was hoping to God he hadn't made her, Helga G. Pataki, cry. "I'm sorry Helga, I didn't mean that I'm just under a lot of…"

Her cackle was loud and shrewd and when she turned to face him with piercing eyes, he felt his blood run cold. " What's wrong with me?" she spat. " You should really stop pretending like you care and just hurry up and disappear."

Stunned by her hostility and hurt by her words, Arnold was at a loss on what to do, giving Helga the opportunity to break out into a sprint, leaving him to wallow in his thoughts alone. He fumbled with the buttons of his jacket before shoving his clenched fists into his pockets, feet unconsciously moving again.

How could she think that he didn't care about her? Didn't she remember him seeking her out on the first day back at school and his attempts at cornering her for a chat for at least a month after that? And what was with that last part about disappearing. It's not like he abandoned her or anything. When he left Hillwood, she had said that she had understood why he was going and had wished him luck with his parents. Why now? Why all of a sudden, when he was back, when they could resume building their childhood friendship was she acting this way?

Before he knew it Arnold was back at the boarding house feeling just as tormented as he did when he left. 'I can't face them this way', he thought as he pulled out his key and slammed it into the lock. He twisted it violently, until it caught, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open. And all too suddenly, he was face to face with his mother.

Eyebrows furrowed and lower lip between her two front teeth, her normally soft features were twisted in concern. 'Don't be the cause of another scene' he thought to himself as he forced a smile onto his face.

"Arnold, sweetie, where have you been? We've been calling for hours."

"Sorry mom," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I was just out for a walk and forgot my cellphone. It won't happen again.

Stella took a step back, grimacing as she nodded. Clearing her throat, she forced a smile onto her own face.

"It's okay dear. I'm- I'm glad you are okay." Arnold nodded before kicking off his shoes and heading towards the staircase.

"I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Wait," Arnold paused, foot on the first step, "dinner's ready. Wouldn't you like some? Your father made your favorite, vegetarian lasagna."

"Thanks, but no. I'm tired from my walk. Good night." He called down to her, footsteps echoing in the foyer as he increased the distance between them. He heard her sigh as he reached the top, but couldn't find it in him to feel guilty for what he knew was bad behaviour.

Thud.

A sudden crash down the hallway drew his attention towards his grandfather's room. He made his way quickly to the door and was about to grab and turn the knob when he heard the loud cackles of his grandmother and the soft protestations of his grandfather.

"Pookie, are you nuts? What are you doing you crazy old coot, get down from there before you knock over something else!"

"Why General, that is no way to talk to your superior. Too the gallows with you!"

Arnold smiled to himself as he leaned against the door to rest his head on its frame.

"Will you stop with this gallows nonsense? I can't tell if we're in Revolutionary France or Revolutionary America at this point."

"Well keep up cowboy, can't leave you behind now can I?" she spoke softly. Arnold strained to hear her next words, but only caught his grandfather's timid response.

"I'm trying here Pookie. I'm trying. What's got you in a frenzy anyway?"

"Why, I was afraid you'd never ask. Eleanor stopped by again. What a pity she couldn't stay to have tea like the old times. She sends you her love. What a lovely young woman she's grown to be is. Quite a catch if I do say so myself. If only Ar-"

There was another loud crash from the room and Arnold didn't hesitate when he ripped the door open.

"Grandma, Grandpa are you okay?" His gaze quickly scanned the room. There was his grandfather, tucked neatly into his bed, sitting up and staring at his wife who was dangling from a pipe with one hand, a small pot of yellow flowers in another; beneath her, some books and an over-turned chair.

"Why lookie here General, it's Arnold. Arnold would you be a dear and place this pot over on that shelf up there."

"Sure grandma, but let's get you down first." Arnold stepped forward to wrap his arms around his grandmother's waist, easing her gently to the floor. Taking the pot from her hand, he moved dutifully towards the shelf, but hesitated as he looked up at its height. While his grandparents had seem like giants to him when he was 9, they were no longer so. Age had taken its toll as their bones shrunk into themselves.

"You sure you don't want to put it somewhere closer? Maybe we can place it on the bedside table. You know you shouldn't be climbing around anymore."

"Why Tex, I feel insulted. I'm as fit as a fiddle, I'll show you." She maneuvered her way in front of him, reaching out for the pipe again, but Arnold quickly stepped in front of her.

"It's okay grandma, I believe you, it's just-"

"Shortman, don't worry so much. It's good exercise for that crazy old coot, but if you are so intent on stopping her, why don't you come by and water them yourself." Gertie sauntered over to her husband's bedside, plopping down to sit cross-legged on it.

"Why that's a wonderful idea general," She said with a wink.

Arnold took a moment to take in the sight of his grandparents, hoping that he and Lila would one day share a love like theirs. He closed his eyes trying to imagine himself in their place, but quickly opened them again when he saw blonde instead of red. He shook his head to clear the image. 'Must be these flowers. They're so yellow, of course I'd imagine blonde' he reasoned.

"Hey grandma, these are daffodils right?"

"Yes, and they're beautiful aren't they?" Arnold nodded his agreement, blushing as he realized whom he had just associated with said beautiful flowers.

"How often do they need to be watered?" He added, trying to distract himself from the memories of their recent encounter.

"Well Tex, to be honest, they probably won't last very long. They are spring flowers you know? But it's the thought that counts." Arnold nodded his understanding, raising the plant to place it on the shelf. Noticing a small card as the plant passed his eye level, he reached out to pluck it from between the stems before walking over to his grandparents.

"You know general," Gertie continued as she took her husband's hand, "sending daffodils is the same as sending one's regards."

Arnold watched as his grandpa's lips curved into a mischievous lopsided smile. "Is that so? Well, remember to thank Eleanor for me."

"Hey grandma, grandpa, who's Eleanor?" Arnold asked as he handed over the card. He watched as his grandparents exchanged a look.

"Oh look general, a poem!"

"But grandma, you haven't even looked at it yet, how do you even know if it's a poem."

"Well Shortman, let's just say Pookie here knows Eleanor very well." Arnold's eyes furrowed. Perhaps Eleanor was one of his grandmother's many aliases. That would explain why she knew what the flowers meant and how to take care of them. But why would she send flowers that wouldn't last? Although the facts weren't really lining up clearly, who else would send his grandfather flowers? Arnold turned expectantly to the card. If it really did hold a poem, he could be more sure.

"Well general, what are you waiting for. Read it for us." Arnold and his grandmother waited enthusiastically as his grandfather cleared his throat and pulled on his reading glasses.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

"Wow grandma, did you really write that?"

"What are you talking about Kimba, of course I didn't. It was Eleanor."

"Well actually, it was William Wordsworth" his grandpa replied, holding the card up to Arnold's face so that he could see the name written below the verse. He took a look at the title of the poem beside it, making a mental note to look it up later.

"Well, it was beautiful now wasn't it Phil." His grandma interjected.

"You've got that right Pookie." Arnold smiled; enjoying the happy tears in his grandfather's eyes as his wife gently patted his thigh.

There was a soft knock as his dad made his presence known by poking his head through the doorframe. "Mom, dad, dinner's - Oh, Arnold, I thought your mom said you were going to bed early. Will you be joining us for dinner?" There was a slight twinkle of hope in Miles eyes that caused Arnold to grimace.

"I'm actually really tired dad. I just stopped by to say goodnight to grandma and grandpa."

"Nonsense Arnold, a growing boy like you needs his spinach." Arnold's eyes grew wide as the loud grumbling of his stomach responded to his grandmother's interjection.

"Well I -" Arnold shot his grandfather a panicked look.

"Don't worry Kimba, if you're too tired, I'll bring some up for you. Go and rest."

"But mom, don't you think it's better to eat as a family."

"Now Miles, sometimes people just need to rest. Right Phil?"

"Sure, I remember when you were young and needed quite some time to yourself in the bathroom."

"Dad!"

"What? That's why I always say, stay away from those raspberries. You hear that Shortman?"

"I know grandpa, and thanks for understanding. Good night everyone."

Arnold couldn't bear to look at his father as he walked passed, choosing instead to ignore his tired sigh and head straight to his room. Closing the door gently behind him, he walked over to his couch to lie down and look at the sky.

It was nothing like the sky of San Lorenzo. It lacked its brilliant stars and glowed a faint purple instead of a pitch black at night. Still, although he missed the luminous jungle stars, he preferred the steady hum of city traffic to the panoply of noises the jungle provided. There was something about city noise that lulled him, blanketed him in a sense of security. He could feel his eyes start to close when he heard a soft knock at his door.

"Arnold, it's me."

"Come in grandma." He called as he sat up on the couch.

"Well, aren't you a regular prince charming." Arnold rubbed at the back of his neck dropping his head in embarrassment.

"You're right, I should have gotten the door. Sorry grandma." She grinned at him as she placed his meal along with a small vase with one daffodil on his desk. Arnold gazed fell on the new addition to his room.

"Grandma, isn't that a gift for grandpa?" Gertie shuffled over to sit with her grandson on the couch.

"Yes it is."

"You shouldn't have picked it off for me." Gertie responded with a grin wide enough to show the gap in her otherwise perfect teeth. Leaning over she gently placed a hand on her grandson's cheek.

"Don't be so angry Kimba, we're not." Arnold sighed and reached up to place his hand on hers, leaning his cheek into her palm.

"I'm trying, but it's not easy grandma. I've just been, I just, I just don't understand. Why did they have to wait this long. I'm scared I don't have much time left with him. Aren't you?"

"Ya darn tootin I am Tex, but it's all a part of life. We may not have much time with him, but we have enough time to say goodbye. That's what's most important. He knows you love him, and as long as there are people who remember him, who think of him," her eyes wandered over to the daffodil on his desk, "he'll never be gone."

Arnold pulled his knees towards his chest pulling away from his grandmother's comforting touch to rest his chin on his knees. His eyes also wandered over to the daffodil. It reminded him a lot of a yellow chrysanthemum he received in his locker during his first day of school.

"Hey grandma, do you know what a yellow chrysanthemum means?" Eyes still focused on the flower across from him, Arnold failed to notice the sad look that passed through his grandmother's eyes.

"It means slighted love, Kimba."

"Oh. Well she probably didn't know what it meant when she gave it to me."

"When who gave it to you Kimba?"

"Lila." Gertie's wrinkles became more pronounced as she furrowed her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose.

"I see. Well Tex, this ole gal better get going. You make sure to eat your supper before heading off to bed."

"I will, and grandma, before you go, why did you give me a flower. Weren't those for grandpa?"

"Why Tex, it's to remind you that there is someone thinking of you of course." Arnold mouth grew into a wide grin as he returned his gaze to the single stem.

"Thanks grandma!"

"You're welcome, Arnold."

Author's Note: Always so slow with updates. So sorry about that. But sometimes I get inspired to write by other people's fan fiction. This time, I was inspired to write by Smarty0007's All I can do. It's really well-written and I hope I can get to that level one day. In any case, thanks for reading. I would be happy with any constructive feedback, so please do leave a review.

Poem was by William Wordsworth. It's titled ' I wandered lonely as a cloud'.