Chapter 4: The Open Skies
Arnold walked out toward the parking lot with his grandpa a few paces behind him. He shuffled over to the old beat up green Packard, double parked in the teacher's lot. He kept on waiting for Phil to say something but he never did; silence filled the air between them. Arnold opened the door and slid in the passenger's seat. The warm white leather felt good, and was quite a nice change from the scratchy stitching of the Vice Principal's chairs. Phil got in the car and started up the engine. Arnold grabbed one of the vents and blew it on his face. His head was starting to feel a little better but his stomach was still churning.
"So did you win?" Phil asked.
"I…can we just leave it grandpa?" Arnold said.
"Leave what? We haven't even started talking," Phil said.
"Please?"
"Alright fine, suit yourself," Phil said turning on Main Street headed back toward the Sunset Arms.
The car drove on for a while and Arnold kept his eyes locked outside. His eyes wanted to look at his grandpa but his head refused. His stomach was tumbling with a mix of defeat, shame, and sadness; he didn't know which one he should feel the most. It was starting to sink in just what had happened, and what he had done. He had never been to the Vice Principal's office for even something as little as ditching class, and now he was on his way home after being technically 'suspended'. The three emotions continued to churn, one not letting the other take dominance for longer than a few seconds.
"Are you mad at me?" Arnold finally asked.
He cut his eyes over to his grandpa. Phil's jaw twitched up in a small smile.
"Are you kidding? I never thought I'd have the honor of coming and getting you from the principal's office. I'd been saving up that speech for years!" Phil said triumphantly.
Arnold shifted and kept his head pressed against the window.
"So what did he do?" Phil asked.
Arnold kept quiet. His face felt like it was heating up.
"I mean, he had to have done something to get you all riled up. At least enough to fight back," Phil continued.
"He's just a jerk alright?" Arnold said softly.
"So you just go around beating up jerks? Must have been quite a jerk to break out Pookie's martial arts training on him hmm?" Phil said smirking.
Arnold brought his hand up to his face. It felt like it was on fire. Lon's face flashed through his mind again and he thought of Connor. He saw his mom and dad's faces in the broken clay and a sudden swell of anger overtook him again.
Arnold turned in his seat. "He's an asshole okay? He's a jerk that won't shut up and kept on going!" Arnold yelled. "He kept on pushing me and pushing me, and then he broke Connor's statue. That was all he had!"
Phil jumped back a bit at the outburst and Arnold turned back to the window. He felt a lump in his throat and he drew in a shaky breath past it.
"I…I'm just tired of it always being about…about them" Arnold said. "He kept on pushing me and when he brought up mom and dad I…,"
His voice sounded funny to him. It was getting harder to breath and he felt pressure in his face. A tear slid down his cheek and stung as it hit his swollen lip.
"He brought up mom and I…I just miss them so much," Arnold said.
He felt tears streaming down the sides of his face. He wanted to stop but it felt good to let the pressure go.
"They never meant to leave you. You know that they…," Phil started softly.
"You think I don't know that? It doesn't change anything. They're still not here," Arnold said angrily.
Phil made the turn into the driveway of the boarding house and cut the engine. He rocked his head slowly down and let out a slow breath.
"Arnold…,"
"I'm tired of being alone! It's always the same, at the end of the day I'm just the same old orphan boy!" Arnold yelled.
He snapped open the door and ran inside. His head was pounding and his shoulder was on fire, but all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other. He wanted to be alone, he wanted the day to stop. He heard his grandpa calling out to him but the words just smashed up against his skull. Arnold's body was on auto-pilot.
He bounded up the stairs and yanked the cord to the attic stairs up to his room. He rushed in and slammed the door behind him and stared at the knob. Suddenly it was quiet. The turmoil of his mind had stopped and there was no more outside noise, no more pressure for conversation; it was just the familiar quiet of his room. He dropped down on the foldout couch by the door, still looking at the handle. He saw the morphed reflection of himself in the gold handle, the alternate version staring back at him in silence. He felt his breath quicken and the knob blurred out. He fell against the cushion sobbing. Arnold felt all the pain and worry of the day pouring out and he did nothing to stop it. It was quiet and he was alone.
He hadn't moved from his spot on the couch and his back was starting to get stiff. He felt absolutely exhausted. A small knock came from the other side of the door. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes, as if it would magically cover up everything.
"Come in," He said.
His voice was small and crackly. Phil came in and sat down on the couch next to Arnold, and put a hand on his shoulder. Arnold kept his head down and shut his eyes as a new batch of tears welled up.
"I miss them too. Your dad…he was my little boy. God how I miss him. I see so much of him in you, you know? It was strange when you were younger, to look in your eyes and see the same look that he had," Phil said softly.
Arnold coughed. "I just wish I knew if they were dead. I don't even care anymore, I just want to know so I can get on with my life,"
Phil nodded slowly. The both of them sat there for awhile, not saying anything. The sun had started to set and the skylight was splashed in bright orange and pink. Arnold shifted again, he couldn't feel his leg.
"How long have you been all twisted up like that?" Phil said.
"Dunno," Arnold said.
"Comfortable?"
"Kinda"
Phil nodded and looked up at the skylight.
"Not really no" Arnold said smiling slightly.
Phil laughed and stood up. "Well come on, let's get you up,"
He grabbed Arnold's shoulder and helped him stand up. The two walked slowly over to the bed and Arnold slowly and stiffly sat down. He laid down and shut his eyes; suddenly he felt extremely tired and the pillow against his head felt like a cool sip of water on a hot day. Phil grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed and draped it over Arnold.
"I'm sorry…about before. I know I'm not alone," Arnold said.
"It's okay Shortman. We'll always stick together," Phil said.
He crossed the room and opened the door. "Just yell down if you need anything. Get some rest slugger," Phil said smiling.
He shut the door softly behind him. Arnold looked up at the orange and pink sky, the soft strings of clouds pitching high above the city. His eyes started to become heavy and he slowly closed them. The sun drifted down toward the horizon, and just as he was drifting asleep, Arnold could have sword he heard the sound of a bi-plane, dominating the clouds thousands of miles away.
He woke up and looked around his room. The sky was milky white with a thick fog completely covering the glass top to his room. He got up and opened the door, looking down into the hall. The lights were off and even though he had walked down the long wooden hallway thousands of times in the course of his life, something made it seem incredibly freighting and foreboding.
"Grandpa?" Arnold said.
He slowly inched into the hallway, walking slowly down the stairs as if they would snap under his weight any minute.
"Grandpa?" Arnold called out again.
The rest of the house remained quiet as he continued down the stairs and out into the hallway. Arnold walked down the stairs and looked into the kitchen.
"Is anybody here?" Arnold asked.
The kitchen was quiet. A newspaper and a still steaming cup of coffee sat at one of the places on the table. He walked out into the parlor and found the front door open. The entire street was covered in the thick fog from the roof. Arnold paused at the door and looked out to the street. The fog was so think he couldn't see farther than a few feet in front of him.
"Arnold!" A voice called out.
He perked his head up and strained to look through the fog. "Hello?"
"Arnold!" The voice was further away now.
He stepped out off the stoop and walked out into the fog toward the sound of the voice. He strained his eyes to try to see something, anything though the fog. He was used to the street and it was for that reason alone he kept his bearings; the entire world seemed familiar but completely strange, a mirrored version of reality. He walked out into the middle of the street and saw a great yellow plank, sticking straight out in the fog. Arnold went over to it and saw that it was a wing attached to a bi-plane. He ran his hand slowly over the fuselage as he walked up to the bucket seats of the cockpit. The brown crackled leather was faded with use and felt surprisingly warm. The entire plane smelled like rainwater and incense. He looked inside at the gages and saw that his picture had been tucked next to one of the dials. He touched the picture softly and closed his eyes.
"I knew you'd find your way out here," the voice said from behind him.
He spun around and fell slightly against the side of the plain. His mother was standing a few yards away, dressed in a flight jacket with a thick white scarf wrapped around her neck.
"You…you came back?" Arnold said hopefully.
He felt a swell of happiness but something about it was wrong. It didn't feel real.
"You know that's not true," Stella said.
"So then, you're still…" Arnold said, more confirming than questioning.
His mother nodded slightly. She smiled softly at him and walked over to stand next to him.
Arnold looked over at her and tried a weak smile. Stella grinned and hugged him.
"I still can't believe how big you've gotten! And quite handsome too. Last thing I remember you were just a baby, crawling around everywhere, with that big blue hat," Stella said brightly.
"I never took it off," Arnold said softly.
"It always was a perfect fit on you," She said.
They stood there for a while, leaning up against the plane. He didn't want to break the silence; he was afraid that if he even moved a muscle everything around his would shatter and go back to the way it was. There was a soft wind rustling through trees, even though he knew the closest park was at least ten blocks from his house. It was a nice sound and standing there, against the cold chrome of the bi-plane, everything just felt right.
"I miss you. And Dad," Arnold finally said.
Stella was silent. She looked at her son and then to the ground.
"You're not coming back, are you?" Arnold said.
"We both love you so much, and you know we never really left you. You might not be able to see us every day, but we'll always be here for you. You have to know that," Stella said.
Arnold was silent for a moment.
"I know it isn't much, and you think you deserve more. You do Arnold, you really do. We wanted to do so much for you, it just…it just couldn't have happened," Stella said. "We let you down,".
He thought for a moment and then started to smile.
"No. You know it's…it's okay," He said.
He looked at his mother smiled warmly. "You know I found Dad's journal, and read about all the stuff that you guys do. About the Green Eyed People, and…it was awesome. I used to get really angry when I saw kids with their families or one of my friends went out and did stuff with their mom and dad. When I think about it though, their parents are dentists and plumbers and paper pushers. You guys saved an entire civilization from extinction," Arnold said.
He pushed himself off the side of the plain and rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'd rather you guys be sewer cleaners if it meant I could have you back, but it's pretty cool to say your mom and dad saved a tribe from being wiped out. So I…I know why you had to leave," Arnold said.
His mother stepped off the plane as well and walked up next to him.
"But you can't keep thinking about us and let it get you down. You've turned into such a wonderful and caring young man, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. I can't wait to hear about what you've done in the next ten years. But you have to go do it, don't let us keep you down. You don't have to let us go, but stop letting the past control your life," Stella said.
"I know. I won't Mom. I promise," Arnold said.
They hugged and this time, the happiness that swelled over Arnold was the truest he had felt in a long time.
"What, no love for me?" Miles said, walking around the other side of the plane.
"Dad!" Arnold said, and ran over to Miles.
"Come on, let's go for a ride," Miles said, handing Arnold a pair of goggles.
Arnold's face lit up as the three of them hopped in the seats of the plain.
"Oh and Arnold, I know that guy at school was a jerk and everything, but if you get in another fight on account of us, I'll find some way of coming back home so I can ground you till you're eighteen, got it?" Miles said.
Arnold laughed as he buckled his seatbelt tight. "I know, I know. You got it Dad,"
"Alright then. Now let's get out of this fog!" Miles said as he started the engine.
The propellers erupted to life and the small plane rocketed toward the sky. It blasted through the fog and the entire grey mass shattered like glass, making way for a vivid sunset that stretched for miles in all directions. Orange and pink shattered through the sky, lighting up the world with fiery light. The earth seemed leagues away as the little plane flew higher and higher. A soft warm wind blew Arnold's hair back as they tore through the heavens and he felt his eyes become heavy. He felt himself becoming tired, more tired than he had ever felt before.
He heard himself shouting out against the wind. "No! I don't want to leave yet!"
"It'll be alright Arnold, I promise. Remember you'll always be with us. Always," his dad said.
"We never really left you remember? We love you so much," his mom said.
He heard himself shouting out again but it was washed away by the sound of the wind and the propellers. The plane flew up, higher and higher, and started to cross a vast ocean that looked like little more than a blue speck. Arnold looked down and saw waves crashing gently against a pearly white beach. His eyes felt so heavy and each second was fighting to keep them open. The sound of the waves grew and he felt the salty mist softly spray against his face. He heard the sound of his parent's voice once more, and finally let his eyes close and drift off to sleep.
Arnold woke up to the sun breaking in through the glass ceiling and splashing warmly on his face. He smiled up at the clouds and sat up slowly. His face was sore and his entire body was stiff from the fight the night before. He sighed contently and looked around his room. Everything seemed brighter in the room, but Arnold knew it wasn't just from the sun. He opened the small drawer next to his bed and took out the photo of his parents.
"Hey Mom, Hey Dad," he said warmly.
Arnold smiled back at their faces. "I won't forget guys,"
He stood up stiffly and walked over to his dresser. He rubbed the back of his neck gingerly.
Aw man. Getting beat up really takes it out of you doesn't it?
He turned and walked down the stairs to the bathroom, and that's when he remembered that he didn't really get beat up. In fact, he turned the tables and won in a fight against the most feared bully at Hillwood High. Arnold walked into the bathroom and laughed when he saw himself in the mirror. His eye had swollen up and turned a dark blue-black and his lip was busted and puffed up.
I look ridiculous. Maybe I can say I fell out of a tree or something.
Arnold started the shower water and laughed again.
As if everybody doesn't know already. That was a pretty big crowd there yesterday. I hope nobody gives me a stupid nickname like slugger or killer or something like that.
He stepped and let the hot water get to work on the soreness from the day before.
Arnold walked down the stairs toward the kitchen, rubbing air into his hair. The shower loosened up the tension in his back and neck and he was feeling even better than he had when he woke up. He walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Phil was leaning in the fridge again and popped his head out when he heard Arnold enter.
"Well morning there killer!" Phil said.
"Morning Grandpa," Arnold sighed.
Phil poured a glass or orange juice and sat it down in front of his grandson. "So how you feeling this morning?"
Arnold smiled. "Good. I had…had some good dreams,"
Phil nodded.
"Yeah I'm sorry about everything yesterday. It was a rough day," Arnold said.
"Ah don't worry about it Shortman. Happens to the best of us," Phil said.
Phil turned back to the fridge. "Oh, Gerald called. Something about dinner tonight. I didn't know how you'd be feeling so I told him you'd have to call him back," Phil said.
"Oh right. Did he say anything about yesterday at all?" Arnold asked timidly.
"You mean does the entire school know that you kicked the butt of the notorious bully?" Phil said smiling.
Arnold signed. "Yeah, that,"
Arnold stood up and walked out in the hall. He grabbed his phone and dilled Gerald; it rang twice and then he answered.
"Hey Arnold,"
"Hey, what's up?" Arnold said.
"I should be asking you. You feeling alright?"
"Yeah I'm fine. It really wasn't…"
"I can't believe you did that! You totally kicked his ass! Everybody is talking about it,"
"Aw man," Arnold said, leaning against the side of the wall.
"So listen, I was thinking, don't worry about coming over today. I mean it'd probably be better with just me and Tim anyway, and I don't want you to...aw Timberly come on that's sugar not salt! Hang on Arnold,"
Arnold heard pots and pans falling and muffled voices yelling in the background. He laughed silently and rolled his eyes.
"Okay, sorry. So like I was saying…"
"Sounds like the hens are winning," Arnold said.
"Well…yeah kind of,"
"Sounds like you could use a hand," Arnold said smiling.
"Are you sure man?"
"I'd love to. Someone's got to come watch you two. I am the Gordon Ramsay of Cornish hens after all," Arnold said.
"Awesome. So I'll see you in a few?"
"You got it. Seeya," Arnold said.
He hung up the phone and walked back in the kitchen.
"I'm gonna head over to Gerald's and help out. Sounds like he's having a lot of trouble," Arnold said.
"Never pegged him for a chef," Phil said.
"So, uh, what are you and grandma doing tomorrow?" Arnold said.
"Oh nothing much. Probably just milling about the house like we usually do," Phil said.
"Well I was thinking I could cook you guys dinner or something. I'll be getting a head start tonight and, well it is going to be mother's day…" Arnold.
"I'm sure she'd love that. Sounds pretty good to me too!" Phil said smiling. "Now get over there before Gerald burns the house down,"
"I'll head over in a bit. First though, can I call that rain check in on those pancakes from yesterday?" Arnold asked, twisting his face into a hopeful smile.
Phil turned around and grabbed a frying pan.
"You got it Shortman. Chocolate chips?" Phil said.
Arnold paused a moment and sat down at the table again. He looked up at his grandpa smiling.
"You know it," Arnold said.
That's all folks, thanks for reading. -AG