aWe come to it at last. To be quite frank I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. No doubt, Arnold is the main character in this show and proper deference should be given to him and the plot that surrounds his life. But very few characters in TV come close to matching the depth and inner contradiction that is Helga G. Pataki.
This was extremely fun but heartfelt to write. To get inside the head of someone like Helga almost requires you to feel the same pain and anguish she does. Helga is one of my favorite characters of all time, and there's never a dull moment when writing her.
So as always, I hope I've done her justice. Please, let me know what you guys think and enjoy:)
The Neglected- Helga Pataki
What is life? Better yet, what is my life? Well I could sum it up in just a few sentences, but I don't think that would quite do it justice. Not that anyone would care to hear it, least of all my stupid family. But what they don't know won't hurt em, so what the heck?
Let's start with Big Bob, aka "dad", who spends his days trying to sell outdated technology with a belt and crown gimmick, thinks he can solve anything by yelling at it, and thinks daytime soap operas are quality television.
And then there's Miriam aka "mom", who begins her day by doing nothing except drinking whatever concoction she brewed around the house and then ending it passed out wherever she happens to land. I used to make a game out of it when I was five just to see where she would end up at night- the couch, the table, bonus points if Bob had to pick her up off the floor the next morning.
Who the heck knows why they even got married? They have nothing in common except for one thing: ignoring me while worshipping my perfect big sister Olga. And I need not remind myself of just how annoying she is. Criminy! I don't care if she's 11 years older than me, why does she treat me like I belong in a crib?! I can take care of myself and I've had to do it the hard way. Where was she when no one would take me to school or pack my lunch? That's right, being little miss perfect and entertaining my parents with another in house piano recital! Even if she doesn't like all the attention sometimes, maybe she could do me a favor and try to convince Bob and Miriam to throw some my way.
And the worst part is, deep down, I know Olga tries. I'll give her that much. And as much as it pains me to admit it, she's the only one who seems to genuinely care about me in this dysfunctional unit we call a "family." We do have a bond that only sisters have. The problem is that she never tries to actually ask how I feel or why I act the way I do. She just assumes I'm just being her difficult baby sister and then coddles me even more. I'd rather just avoid her and call it a day. I thank the heavens she's in Alaska.
I hear the boys at school ask this question sometimes: if you could have a superpower what would it be? And they give all these lame, macho answers like super strength or flying and all that junk. Jokes on them, because they're looking at a girl who already has one: invisibility. The way things go around the Pataki household, I may as well be to my parents. I could stand on the roof, naked, singing 'Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay" and I wouldn't get so much as a second look from either of them. I can't even remember how many times I've had to correct them with my name. No, Bob/Miriam, I'm not "Olga", I'm Helga. That's what they see, because that's all they ever cared about. I'm not the child they wanted, just the one that happened.
But hey, who needs family right? Especially when you got the wonders of P.S. 118. Pheebs is an awesome friend, because she's kind of like how a sister should be. She listens, she actually tries to know what's going on, even if I blow her off at times. I know I get too carried away with bossing her around, but she's loyal. And I wish I knew how to properly thank her for that better. I wish I knew how to say a lot of things better…
And where sooner to start than my love? Oh, Arnold! How I adore you so. From the beautiful oblong shaped cranium, to your locks that are as golden as your heart, to the traits that make you so special to all of the fellow urbanites within the confines of our concrete jungle. You're so pure, so kind, so brave, how could I not have fallen for you the moment you raised the umbrella over my head? The moment you told me you liked the bow in my hair, which I still adorn to this day. Because you noticed. Because of you.
*soft breathing
*WHACK!
Alas, my romantic soliloquies seem to be the only way to express my true affection for you, Arnold. The journals, the poems, the shrine, the makeshift head, the statue I've created from all of the gum you've chewed since kindergarten, it's all a private ritual kept hidden within the confines of my heart. For on the surface I'm as inarticulate as a concussed Rhinoceros and just as mean. I…I hate the way I treat you, Arnold. Spitballs galore, spraying you with water at the fountain, pranking you constantly, alongside the countless epithets I've come up with over the years- 'Arnoldo', 'paste for brains', 'football head'- it becomes too much even for me sometimes. I yell and scream and whenever you get too close, I push you away and yet that just makes me fall even deeper in love with you. And then I stay up at night for hours wondering why I do these things to you, pondering all of my begotten misdeeds.
And yet…have I not proven at times I can be more than just the mean girl that tortures you? That I'm not merely the scowling menace you've come to know? You believe in people Arnold, it's one of the most amazing qualities you have. You must know I'm not so bad, you've said it yourself. I helped your friend find his daughter on Christmas, saved old Pete from my dad's bulldozer, told you about that dumb bimbo's plan to scam you into a building a sand castle for her, and even went against becoming filthy stinkin rich to save the neighborhood from getting knocked down! I even confessed my love for you that night, and yet I haven't seen any sign of how you feel in return.
To be frank, I can't get a read on it. For such a level headed football head, he sure doesn't give away much. There were times where I thought he might actually be coming around. In the moments where I impressed him, however few they've been, he seems to really actually like me. Pretending to be Cecile, pretending to be Lila (how I despise her)…it just makes me wonder whether he liked me or the girls I was pretending to be. But was that not my true self? The kind, considerate, and eloquent part of my person that shines through when I know he doesn't suspect it's me.
*sniff Ah, who am I kidding? Arnold likes kind, sweet, considerate and feminine. I'm mean, nasty, obnoxious, and well…a basket case. What other girl in the whole world would devote so much of her time and energy to loving and helping someone yet go through all the pain of keeping it a secret? The amount of times I've broken into his home so he wouldn't find out…criminy! That boarding house is practically a second home by now.
I also realize the more this goes on, the less likely this is going to be a well guarded secret. I confessed to Lila, Phoebe already knows, and I'm pretty sure Geraldo is catching on as well. Those two seem to be hanging out a lot more lately, so I may have to tie that loose end sooner than I think. Then again, the time to tell Arnold may be coming sooner than I think. Dr. Bliss told me I could tell him whenever I wanted (no pressure, right?), but I'm beginning to feel a sense of urgency. I mean, I already did tell him, but I also kind of took it back (I told him it was the heat of the moment, and I still can't believe he bought that load of crap). So, the cat's not really out of the bag, is it? Looking back on it, that might have not been the right moment to tell him how I feel, given how I basically backed him into a corner and kissed him without a second thought…my how I wish could kiss those adorable lips again. *girlish sigh
But I'm starting to feel like this is a lost cause. Shouldn't have something happened by now? After all these years of being mean up front and admiring him from afar, I could have missed my chance. Or perhaps I took my chance and Arnold…doesn't feel the same way.
My football headed love, you're everything I hold dear, everything I believe in and more. I…I can't stand the idea of being turned away by you. I know where that would leave me: Invisible. Another neglected kid stuck in the rainstorm of dark days among the city streets, just like my first day at preschool. But this time with nothing to hold onto and no reputation to fall back on.
My heart tells me this ends in only one of two ways: together or apart. Please Arnold, please send me a sign that you notice me. That you want the same thing I do.
I just can't bear the thought of being left out in the rain, again.
I'm just going to let this one stand on its own without further comment.
Arnold is last and that chapter will be up in a couple weeks or so.
~The Wasp
