i dropped it off

I texted Mike quickly and shoved my phone into my pocket as if I had a fear of getting caught. I didn't even know by whom, but I was glancing furtively down the hall of the hospital anyway as I headed back to the main part so I could get the hell out of there. When Arnold mentioned having a day off while the boys were camping, I didn't imagine spending in in a hospital. I also didn't imagine scraping my son's hair off a pillow to put in a little baggy and give to the woman who was most definitely side-eying me, either. Whatever, Deborah could fuck off with her judgy-ass glances.

"Helga?" I heard a call and damn it what was with this town and being half the size of my pinky? Unfortunately ducking and rolling wasn't so much of an option in a hospital, so I stomped around and faced the music.

A sunny Phoebe in blue scrubs was blinking at me from what felt like the floor because damn if Phoebe wasn't still short. She had her hair pulled back from her face in these two sparkly clips and I was dazzled by it, because I don't know how anyone managed to keep track of one clip, let alone two. That matched.

"Phoebe?" I raised my eyebrows, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm interning," she pointed at the little badge clipped to her bag, grin on her face. "Why won't you answer my calls?"

"Calls?" I fidgeted awkwardly. "Haven't been getting them."

"Oh, really?" Phoebe might as well have said that she didn't believe me but we indulged in the excuse anyway.

"Yeah, I don't have my phone."

"What?"

"I dropped it in the ocean," I said quickly, as if it were a reasonable excuse. I was ready to my head into the glass windows, "while…jetskiing."

Phoebe was giving me a flat look. "Answer," she hit me with her clip board. "I want to catch up."

"Yeah," I walked a few steps over to the wall to lean against it and get out of someone's way, "why is it that everyone seems so gung-ho on doing that? Trust me, it's just not that interesting,"

MISTAKE, I had piqued Phoebe's interest. She crossed her arms, clipboard pressed into her chest, "who's everyone?" She asked with a delighted little smirk.

"No one."

"Helg-"

"The shark who ate my phone."

"Phoebe?" A man in a white coat stepped around the corner of a patient's room, "a word?" He stepped back inside.

She hit me with the clipboard again- ow, when did Phoebe get so violent, "answer." She threatened, pointing an adorable little finger at me and all but skipping back into the room the doctor disappeared into.

I couldn't help the smirk that escaped my mouth as I left the hospital, but it definitely wasn't Phoebe's doing, no. I just couldn't wait to be somewhere where I could smell literally anything other than hospital smell.


I was only half way through the paperwork I let pile up because technical writing was just so fun and I didn't have an 8 year old. My phone rang with an unfamiliar number and I barely even looked up before swiping to answer it.

"Hey, you've got Helga," I said, striking a line I had written with red ink, because it sounded like it was written by a monkey with a typewriter.

"Pataki, hey!" And it was like my phone was a tiny portal and everything was on fire and I was in hell, "come out with us tonight." I glanced around my room, swearing that it was getting hotter even though I knew it wasn't.

"Gerald," I said flatly, "how did you get my number?" I could almost imagine my dresser was a rectangle shaped demon, if I squinted hard enough.

"Unimportant," he diverted, and I rolled my eyes. "Come out, we're going somewhere."

"Where?" I asked, wondering why I was even entertaining the idea.

"Somewhere."

"I saw you guys yesterday," I whined. I didn't want to sound whiny, it just came out and I really did see them yesterday and I didn't want to do more socializing with people I barely tolerated.

"…for like, three hours."

"Two hours and fifty five minutes too long, if you ask me."

"I'm gonna be at your house at 6 to pick you up," I groaned but he kept talking "get your shoes on!"

"Now?" I asked, glancing at the clock that told me it was just barely two o'clock.

"Well, not now," I could hear his eye roll through the phone. "But when I'm there, shoes."

"…did you think I was just going to leave my house without shoes on?" I inquired, snorting and grabbing a handful of goldfish from my nightstand. I shoved them into my mouth. "Is that something you do often?"

"Shut up, Pataki. I'll see you at 6."

"Alright, Gerald, don't forget to put on pants-" he hung up on me, which, rude, because I was not the one that called him, or made any demands to see him, or oddly implied that if i didn't remind him to put shoes on he wouldn't. Sensitive ass.


"For the record," I muttered as I opened my door, "I still think this is stupid and I object." I was wearing jeans and a sweater with my hair on in a crazy messy bun top of my head because heels were enough last night to last me the rest of the year.

"Yea, yeah, we know-" Gerald was standing on my steps, wearing a black v-neck sweater and a smug grin, Arnold just a step behind him.

"While we're speaking on the record," Arnold cleared his throat, "I told him to give it a rest."

"And I told him to fuck off," Gerald shrugged, "and there is no one recording us here, so there is no record."

I leaned against my door frame, trying to feign annoyance to the best of my ability, "where exactly are we going?"

Gerald shrugged, "wherever the wind blows us," he tried to reach for my forearm.

"Uh-uh," I jumped back from his grip, making to shut my door even though the only plans i previously had for the night were Gilmore Girl reruns and frozen taquitos, "no, I'm not wandering around the night with you two when I could have a glass of wine and frozen taquitos." I winced because i didn't really mean to voice the taquito thing out loud. I hated bars anyway, why would I want to go get drunk somewhere and be judged by annoying people and pay extra money for it? That was a lose-lose to me, terrible idea, whoever made it up should seriously reconsider their life choices.

"Alright," Gerald shoved, pushing past me and into my home, "I guess it's a girl's night in," he dropped his keys on my couch, wandering past it into the kitchen "where the taquitos at?"

Arnold stopped at the top of the steps, "I am…" He glanced down the hall to make sure Gerald was preoccupied, in my house, "so sorry." Gerald was humming in my kitchen, the tune to a song from Frozen, I was pretty sure. Luke saw it once and when I saw him singing the song about love is an open door and jumping from couch to couch, we never spoke of it again. "We've been doing the same thing for weekends for months now, I think he's just bored."

"If I light him on fire," I warned, definitely Not imagining Arnold as the cute mountaineer from frozen, "I'm framing you for it." Arnold would look good in those weird pointy boots- not that I was thinking about it.

"Y'all got Frozen?" Gerald leaned around the corner from my kitchen, "I'm preheating the oven, but I am DEFINITELY feelin' a movie musical tonight, y'all."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tired Arnold smack his forehead with his palm.


I did not have Frozen but I did have the Lion King so we settled for that. Gerald was pacing around my living room during the open number. "Where's your cat at?" He asked, looking under my coffee table.

"What?" I crossed my legs under me, shuffling into my couch more, cradling my glass of wine as if it were my last link to any form of sanity, because it probably was, "I don't have a cat."

"A dog?"

"No."

"…parakeet?"

"What the fuck- Gerald, no, no pets. No animals."

"Well shit," Gerald put his hands on his hips as if I were his child who just ditched my math final to make out with Alice Lloyd behind a bleacher. Which I did, once, but Alice was wearing a tube top so who was really to blame there? "Arnold, stand up, I need something to lift up at the part with Simba."

"Gerald," Tired Arnold had his face in his palm again, "for the love of God, sit down."

"Y'all are truly missing out on a cinematic experience," Gerald pouted as he sat down, "like Rocky Scary Movie Whatever."

Arnold's eyebrows were furrowed, "the one with the boxer?"

I downed my glass of wine.


Midway through Hakuna Matata and my second glass of wine my phone rang again and I suppose I was just feeling good enough to answer it. Gerald was in the kitchen, waiting for taquitos.

"Yallow?" I asked, sipping again on the wine in my hand.

"Helga!" Phoebe's bright voice chirped back at me. "You answered!"

"Just call it your lucky day, Phoebe Heyerdahl." I sat back into my couch again. "What's on the up and up?" Simba was singing about no worries, I felt kind of inclined to agree with him.

"You've had wine, haven't you?" Her tone was flatter and I snorted.

"Maaaaybe," I sang back at her, sipping again. She laughed on the other line. My grin was leaking into my voice, I could hear it, the warmth of the wine going from my belly to my chest to the tips of my shoulders like some kind of warm and terrible fake tan. That was an awful metaphor, I loved wine though! "What's up, really though?"

"Do you want to come get a drink with me tonight?"

I laughed in my nose again, as if there were a tiny witch controlling my amusement that was just lodged in my nostril, "just come here, it's already a party with the Lion King and everything."

"Oh, is your son home?"

I glanced around my room, Gerald wearing my pink oven mitts and Arnold giving me a side glance that was just wrought with amusement. I kicked him but I wasn't sure why, he was just being annoying. By sitting there.

"No, that's the really fucking sad thing about it."

"Text me an address," She told me quickly.


I wondered, for a moment, if Phoebe was gonna remember where my house was already. We did hang out here, as kids and later as teenagers. There were certain places I'd always remember the way to, my house from school, the 7-11 I used to get drunk and then walk to to eat zebra cakes. I could, actually, go for a zebra cake in that moment. Then again, very few moments aren't improved by zebra cakes.

I was flipped around, so my feet hung over the top of my couch. "Okay, honest question: you have to answer, no bullshit," I told the guys, Arnold on my left still and Gerald in the arm chair.

"Shoot," He answered, leaning forward into the screen.

"When you were kid was Nala oddly attractive? Like…was she a weirdly hot lion?"

Arnold choked on his drink, and Gerald stood up quickly, and went "oh my god- yes!"

"Right?!" I agreed. "Like what is up with the good looking lions?" I would have nodded but my head was on the cushion. "I bet there's some weird ass freudian psychology about that."

Arnold said nothing, just shook his head and laughed and reached for his cup. I poked him, because I wanted him to admit weird attraction to a cartoon lion. For the sake of camaraderie!

"Man, I don't know-" Gerald said, walking into my kitchen again, "either that or some…interesting animators."

"Get me a zebra cake!" I yelled out to him.

He appeared back around the corner, "get you a what now?"

The doorbell rang. I grinned up at Arnold. He rolled his eyes tiredly, but pushed up from the couch to get it. I snickered, and then maybe imagined what Arnold would look like as an animated lion. Maybe- but only for a moment.

"Arnold?!" I heard Phoebe on the other side of my door, "oh my gosh!" Sounds of a hug pursuing, "what are you doing here?"

"Talking about lions, apparently."

I heard a crash in the kitchen, and I sat up quickly. A bug eyed Gerald was looking out, horrified, over my living room. I squinted at him, mouthing "what?" at him. He didn't respond, looking panicked, and then he pressed himself up against the wall like a secret agent in the worst spy movie ever made. As Arnold and Phoebe joined me in the living room, he crept the other way, just out of eye sight. I watched him go, like a bizarre, enormous, bug, creeping along my wall.

"Hey Phoebe-" I sat up finally, "can I get you a glass of wine?"

"Love one," Phoebe wasn't wearing her little blue scrubs anymore. I heard the sound of my closet door click shut, and I turned around, wary, to look behind me. I saw nothing, though. When I turned back around Arnold was shaking his head, hand on his face, and I realized exactly what made the noise.

"I'll go grab a new bottle," I smiled quickly, before stomping my way over to the closet.


"I can't believe you've done this to me," Gerald whispered harshly in the closet. I made a note to myself to stop having discussions in this closet. Perhaps if need be I'd turn the piano room into a place where people can lock themselves into to yell at each other, but this closet just was not cutting it. We still were out for a spider quota in this closet.

"Invited my friend over to my house?" I asked him.

"You can't just invite randos into join the group!" He insisted, wiping his face off with the back of his hand.

"Okay, number one: this is my house," I told him plainly. He opened his mouth to retort but I kept talking because he obviously had nothing of value to say we were literally in my house, "number two: we have no group."

"Okay, no- that's bullshit. We're like one beer away from ordering matching bedazzled jackets."

"Can they have gophers on them?" I asked in a low tone.

"Can they be silver?"

"Gold."

"Deal."

"Ugh," He put his face into his hands. "You invited Phoebe here and she's a doctor and she's still pretty and I'm boring AND broke and I look like a homeless person."

I glanced down at his plain sweater. "What homeless people are you hanging out with?"

"What are we even going to talk about?" He asked, putting his fist to his mouth. "I haven't prepared questions."

"We're watching a movie not having a debate."

Gerald got a text, frantically pulling his phone out of his pocket. It was from Arnold, and all it said was would you two get out of the closet its getting awkward out here. Gerald looked up at me. "Can I tell him to come get in the closet?"

"No." I answered plainly.

"If we all hide here, maybe she'll just leave." I gave him a flat look, opening my closet door and all but shoving him out. He stumbled, recovering quickly, and putting his shoulders back with his best I-have-confidence look.

"Seriously, I want to know," I called out after him, "is there like a gang of J Crew hobos running around that I missed out on?"


For all his anxieties, they barely showed around Phoebe. They were sitting on the couch, Phoebe with a glass of wine in her hand and Gerald perhaps looking at her too often. I watched this with amusement from the armchair.

"So, when was the last time you guys saw each other?" I addressed the room at large, but I could tell by Arnold's grin at me he knew I didn't care if he was there.

"Oh, gosh," Phoebe leaned forward, "I think it was," a flush fell over her face, "Christmas senior year of under grad?"

"Yea," Gerald had his eyes on the ceiling, "sounds about right."

I glanced at Arnold, whose face was tight with some form of amusement and- oh my god Phoebe and Gerald totally hooked up over the holidays. I had friends in college who had serial hook ups with people from home, but I never pinned Phoebe as the type to… I looked at her with an almost pride. My friends from college, grossly, called it christmas stuffing. Phoebe was politely glancing at her lap and Gerald was giving Arnold a very annoyed look and a subject change was definitely in order.

"So, why do you think there's an elephant only graveyard?" I glanced back at the film, "how do they even get the corpses there, or do they have to go there first when they've got a hunch they're gonna die?" Gerald took it as a thankful excuse to talk about something else, but Arnold was giving me a look that said 'where did that even come from, weirdo?'


"I don't remember this being this violent," Phoebe commented as we neared the end of the film, and the entire fucking savannah was on fire.

"I think everything from childhood was slightly more violent than we remember it being," Arnold added, sitting forward a little.

"I don't know about that," Gerald set his glass down on my coffee table, "we were pretty intense kids. I remember it…okay, better than most people do, probably."

"At least we never lit anything on fire," I commented, sipping from my cup.

Phoebe was blinking at me, "Helga, you lit several things on fire."

"You threatened to light me on fire not," Gerald looked at his watch, "two hours ago."

I rolled my eyes, "everybody's a critic."


Our evening together passed with very little event other than my complete amusement at Gerald and Phoebe. I wondered if Phoebe was with anyone. I thought about asking her, as I grabbed her coat for her as she was leaving, because I'm nosy and kind of proud of it. I wasn't planning on…interfering, except maybe I was, just a little bit. I held composure because I am and adult who doesn't meddle in affairs that don't concern me and just maybe I was going to text her about it later but we're not all angels, what could I say?

Gerald walked Phoebe out to her car and me and Arnold sat on the couch with a conspiratle little smirk, and when he returned, he had this dumbass smile on his face.

"I can't believe," Arnold had the closest thing I've ever seen on his face to an arrogant look on his face, "you still have a thing for Phoebe," he crossed his arms, a little mirth spreading across his pink, tipsy face. It was attractive and therefore irritating. My lamp was behind his head so I wanted to take the shade off and shove it on him, but I realized with further delight it probably wouldn't even fit.

"Arnold," Gerald turned around from my doorway, "I can't believe," he mimicked, "that outta all the things you could try and roast me for, you go with that."

Arnold blinked at him, almost innocently, "what do you mean?"

He stared back and forth in between us. "You know Arnold, there are times when I really do hate your dumbass."


a/n sooooorry i took forever im the worst. hi everyone i missed u n this and i hope you liked it or laughed or something! love u all very much and thank you so much if you leave reviews they make me laugh & keep me goin! thanks all!