Chapter 4- Real proud O'you Girl

Chapter 4- Real proud O'you Girl

Friday finally came after a night of tossing and turning.

The morning, school, and the walk home all came as a blur. She didn't think it was possible but all day she couldn't hear any of her classmates gushing about this and that because that space in her brain was occupied by nervous thought. She mechanically made small talk and seemed to be listening, but it was as though she were floating through a dream that afternoon.

The air outside tasted sweeter that day.

The sky was clearer and the temperature was more comfortable than it had been in weeks.

"Perfect weather for chatting on my huge lanai." said Rhonda suggestively. Even she was in more of a giddy mood than usual.

Helga didn't even remember saying goodbye to Phoebe at the end of school or agreeing to see her there at eight o'clock, but it must have happened because the next thing she knew she was sitting on her bed watching the clock. In three more hours she could start getting ready. She made a mental checklist of everything that she wanted to do and how long it would take. Along with her 'no overexcitement' policy, came the necessity not to be ready too early. But what could she do in the meantime? The teachers hadn't given her any homework; she had already washed her apron and cleaned her room the night before so she wouldn't have to do it today. It slowly dawned on her that she had inadvertently over prepared anyway.

Frustrated, she threw herself back onto her bed letting her hair fly behind her. The box still hidden under her bed could still be felt like the Princess and the Pea. She had to get out of here. Maybe eat some early dinner and watch the end of a movie on TV.

The kitchen was a mess as usual so while the mini TV in the refrigerator played out "Miss Congeniality", Helga swept, mopped, washed, dried, and tidied up the kitchen. She prepared and left simple pasta in a pot on low- she knew Bob would be hungry soon and Miriam rarely cooked this late in the evening. Even if she had, Helga doubted anyone would want to eat it. So, as per her usual routine, she made three times as much as she could eat and left the clean plates and forks on the counter so no one would attempt to prepare anything else. The movie had finished so Helga scooped up a plate of her own concoction, took a soda from the fridge, and headed upstairs to eat in her room. As she stomped up stairs she mused that eating as a family had long ago lost it's meaning but it still made her feel better to know at least they all ate the same thing… and cooking for them once in a while wasn't so bad. It was a bitter unspoken "I love you." At least she was practicing for a bachelor's life.

Showered, shaved, dusted, and dry, she slipped the dress at last over her head and let it fall perfectly around her. A mirror showed a slim and tall, beauty. The soft blond hair swaying behind her curling at the ends to give a subtle added delicacy. The girl twisted left and then right to see how it flowed around her knees and to feel how it gently traversed over her soft calf's skin. Phoebe had taken in the waist so a beautiful bend between her hips and her torso made her stand like a woman.

Now for the shoes. Helga crouched on the floor by her bed and reached out beyond the dirty socks and private worshiping materials until her finger found the purple striped box and pulled it out. She sat on the edge of her bed and carefully pulled back the lid. They were brighter than she remembered. Like diapering a baby, with as gentle a firm hand as she could manage, she slipped them on her feet and laced up the silky ribbons. She stood unsure on her feet and looked into the mirror at herself. She stared at the reflection.

She didn't dare think anything. But went to the bathroom and slipped the last piece over her head, a ribbon set far back on her head made her into Helga once more. Not that girl standing in red shoes. No way.

Since she had gotten home she had not been heard from. At this time she leaned out of her bedroom and shouted coming down the stairs,

"Merriam! You said I could use your Tanzanite and gold necklace. Where IS IT?"

Her mother got groggily up from the floor behind the couch. "What sweetie?"

"Your necklace? It's not in your room." Helga tapped her foot. It felt so good in the soft fabric lining.

"Oh sorry sweetie, my necklace…I took it out for cleaning uh- Try my clothes."

"You mean the laundry room?"

Her mother's speech was lazy and staccato. Her hair hung in overcast-blond wisps around her face. She was getting old and her sleeping habits were getting worse. That's why, in her spare time, Helga was helping her mother with something special she hoped to achieve before she moved out.

"Oh yeah! Sure you can….try there." Helga rolled her eyes and went without another word. After a brief search she found the gold chain hanging from the shelf with a bottle of uncapped bleach. Still, the jewelry didn't look as though it had been touched. She corked it calling over her shoulder.

"You know, they make cleaning solution for these things. It's not a good idea to wash it yourself."

"Oh, Ok hunny." Miriam appeared behind her in the wrinkled lavender housedress she always wore. She jumped, almost bumping into her daughter who was now almost her own height. Helga jumped too. She would have just busted past her if her mother were not giving her a strange look.

"Let me help you with that." She held out her hand for the necklace still giving her that dazed expression. Now, Miriam normally looked out of touch with reality but this look was different. It was wide awake but not in the room at the same time. It was as though when she looked at Helga she was seeing something very different. The younger girl warily gave up the necklace and turned around.

"That's a pretty dress. Where did you get it?"

"I dunno. I found it with Phoebe last week."

"Oh..." Miriam seemed to be taking her sweet time unhooking the clasp. With her back turned, Helga couldn't have known her mother was partially not paying attention and partially stalling for time. "How is Phoebe?"

"I don't know. She's good I guess."

"I like that ribbon in your hair. It makes you look… lady like." She ran a hand through Helga's hair like it was a fine silk now completely forgetting about the necklace.

Helga tried desperately not to remind her she had been wearing the same ribbon since she was five. Sometimes she spitefully thought her mother suffered an early form of Alzheimer's disease. But really Helga understood that Merriam just needed to be active again and to hone her creative abilities. Just like her. She needed some outlet. Luckily, Helga had Arnold, Phoebe, and Dr. Bliss for that. She wondered transitionally if her mother had once been as obsessed with Bob as she was with Arnold. The idea whisked from her mind as quickly as it had come. There were many things that tied her to her mother but that was just not possible.

Breaking the pause Helga asked, "Do you need help Miriam?"

"No, no, I got it."

Click, whip, and clack, in seconds she expertly clipped it behind her neck and let her daughter tromp past.

Helga hesitated at her bedroom doorway and called downstairs, "Mom, did you fill out that form I left for you on your nightstand?"

"What?" came a weak answer.

"That package of information for the hiring agency. Did you fill it out?"

"I think so dear…I was wondering if you could-"

"Yeah, I'll look it over when I come home tonight OK? Just leave it outside your room so I won't have to wake you up."

"Where are you going dear?"

It was getting a little silly standing at the top of the stairs like this so she decided to grab her things to go- and didn't answer. If it were important enough, she'd ask again.

Helga took her purse and filled it with all the vitals- wallet, keys, cell phone (fully charged), chapstick/gloss, and a little bottle of aspirin. When she first started her job she found she needed it often. Although as she shook it from side to side she realized she hadn't had to fill it in quite some time. Not diving physiologically any deeper as to its meaning, she shrugged internally and tossed its contents into the bag and slung the bag over her shoulder.

Instead of clattering down the stairs as usual, she had to be careful and take it one step at a time. Her shoes wouldn't allow her to lose balance for long so she took each stair with pride.

"OK, I'm going now!"

"Whoa whoa whoa get your kester back here, where do you think you're going?" The booming sound of her father's voice came from the trophy room. She couldn't help but pass it on her way to the front door so she stopped under its curved passageway to face him.

"Tuh, like you care." She meant to say it a little more quietly but Bob stood up and stomped over to her from the couch where he had been lounging. It took more effort these days for Bob to stand up. As much as he tried to keep it a secret it was becoming more obvious to everyone. Still, he would never be the one to depend on others. A rock was Robert Pataki.

"Don't use that tone with me little lady or you won't be going anywhere." He growled.

"I'm going out!"

"What are you wearing there?"

She tired to hide her feet behind the wall in case he hadn't noticed yet. "A dress Bob. Lots of girls wear them."

"Cut the wise cracks. I don't mean…I mean you just remind me…"

'If he says Olga' Helga fumed and balled her fists, 'I swear, I'm gonna lose it.'

He hesitated and Helga noticed he was watching her with the same look Miriam had on, only now she recognized it as… tenderness? In a dream-like voice he finished, "You look like your mom when we were first going out as youngsters."

Helga hesitated.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?"

Bob hesitated.

"Well, yeah. You look real good. I dunno…I know I don't say it…often…but I'm just real proud O'you, girl."

They stood together uncomfortably in the front hallway.

Bob coughed, "Is someone picking you up?"

"No. It's not far, I'm just gonna walk."

"Don't do that. It's dark outside. Let me drive you."

"I'm fine. I've walked there a million times." She snatched her coat from the closet fighting the urge to say something really disrespectful. The two sides of herself battling furiously as they often did: Who did he think he was offering her help all of a sudden? She was perfectly fine getting there on her own. She could take down any creep in the area including Big Bob himself. She almost told him so when she caught the mist in his eye. He spoke quietly and firmly.

"I can drive you."

She didn't say anything.

"I'll even drop you off a block away so no one will know it's me."

She tested the water. "Don't you have something to do instead?"

She didn't know it but her stare was painful to Bob. He knew he'd been a bad father in the past. Especially to this one. Every once in a while he remembered it- especially when she was forced to remind him to pay her psychiatric bill. When those feelings crept up, he reasoned to himself, he had tried all the conventional means up and down for years but the girl just didn't want to behave. He didn't understand her and she wanted nothing to do with him. Sometimes it was like they lived as roommates in separate apartments instead of as a family in two bedrooms. He never had this kind of trouble with Olga.

She did look like her mother in that dress. And somewhat like his own little sister- long estranged from the Pataki name. That glower and defensive stance all screamed of the times when his sister really got mad. She would plant her hands on her hips and stick out her lower lip defiantly. Only now did it strike him how similar they were. Helga showed that same kind of dominant personality she had.

Despite her (suddenly) beautiful appearance, his first desire was to gain back control of the situation by shouting at her like one of the interns at work. On the other hand, he could see how that would play out. She'd just yell back and storm out the door while he raged to Merriam until his favorite sports team came on. After his wife went to sleep he'd stay up in bed watching until he heard the front door close again signaling her return. He could see himself doing the same thing he did every time she went out, he'd quickly turn off the light and listen for her to pass their door and return to her room. Sometimes her step was light and peppy and sometimes it was slow and heavy. That darn girl. He just couldn't sleep until she was home. Of course, he would never admit that to her.

Even still, he didn't want her to come back with those depressed footsteps again- if he could help it.

He looked her up and down and worked every restraint muscle he had before saying, "No. Now come on and get your coat on." He roughly grabbed his keys off the wall where she had hung them and advanced militantly to the garage.

She blinked and finished wrapping her black windbreaker around her before following.

The ride was quiet which they both preferred. And as she got out he shoved some wrinkled cash into her hands for a taxi back home and said,

"I want the change from whatever's left."

"Thanks…Dad." He grunted a reply.

Bob smiled all the way home. He kissed his wife. For once, Bob was happy to stay up until his daughter returned home. And this time, Miriam waited with him.