Disclaimer: I don't own HA!
AN: Thank you for your support.
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"Mornin', Blondie." She hated the pet name I'd chosen for her, hated it even more so when I called her by that name, but since she failed to provide an explanation as to why she despised it so much, I continued to address her by that name. Today she selected to ignore it.
Instead, Helga rummaged through the refrigerator in search of one of those instant breakfast bars she kept on hand for the days she attended her early morning classes at the college. After discovering her on the go meal stashed in the very back of the rack, she stuffed it into her backpack, then reached in the door to grab a carton of eggs and finally into the crisper for a pack of bacon. Her anger toward me was no surprise as she threw these items down onto the kitchen table next to my coffee mug. She had every right to be mad.
"If you want breakfast this morning you'll have to make it yourself. I've got an important exam today that I can't miss." Helga pulled the heavy pack over her shoulders and looked at me seriously. "By the way, the next time your pal flies in for a visit, tell him to stay in his own room. I get enough idiots trying to hit on me while I'm at school. I don't need anyone else fondling me."
"He's your friend, as well as your ex-..."
"The two key words here are friend and ex." As her hand reached for the deadbolt, I hesitated, unsure whether or not I should tell her I was leaving her. That's why I brought him here, so she wouldn't get stuck in a financial bind. If I didn't speak up now, she'd be out the door before I'd have the chance to tell her my plane would be leaving in a couple hours.
"Helga, before you head out, I need to talk to you. The only reason I brought-..."
"I know why you brought him here," she interrupted, having no desire to hear my excuse. My hunch was that she already knew I'd planned this out several months ago. "I appreciate your efforts in trying to find someone else to help me out, but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. So, are you gonna get another place here in New Your or are you going back home?"
"Goin' back home."
"Good idea. I think you should."
"Yeah." It was obvious she'd spied the empty pint of whiskey I'd squeezed between my legs. "I think I'd better."
Ever since she died, I felt I deserved to die along with her. Why not by the same hand that killed her? Death by alcohol was better than a bunch of shrinks force feeding zombie pills into your system just so you could tell them you were all right but you couldn't cope without their chemical enhancement. The psych ward was an institution I never wanted to return to. A visit with the psychiatrist every morning, group therapy every couple hours, sharing a room with a severe case you didn't even know and strange men shaving your face because you weren't allowed to wasn't my idea of a mental vacation. Unlike me, I played by the rules to get out of that joint as fast as I was possibly able. That's why I arranged for an appointment with my former psychiatrist a couple days after I got back to Hillwood. My relapse wasn't Helga's fault. It was my own since I didn't stay close to the source to lay off the booze. The next job I'd take would be as a bouncer in a night club so I could see a reflection of myself walking through the door and realize how much of my life had been wasted by Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort. As of yet, alcohol hadn't brought me to my demise. All it did was change my status from social drinker to hard core drunk.
"Helga, I'm sorry last night didn't turn out the way it was supposed to, and I figured I might need a backup plan, so I called another potential roommate before your alarm went off this morning. He'll be here around five or five-thirty tonight."
"He?" Her eyes lit up at the mention of it being another male. "Is it...?"
"No, someone else." Her shoulders dropped but she kept her spirits up unwilling to let on she was disappointed the new roommate wasn't Arnold. I never told her the last time I flew home for a visit I'd seen him in one of the local bars with that really quiet dude who seemed to do nothing more than wheeze.
Ludwig informed me the two of them would come to the bar every weekend and sometimes on Mondays, have a beer or two, then leave. He said they stood out from the usual clientele that hung out at the establishment, but nobody bothered them since they were known as the local college geeks. Both of them had just registered for grad school. He thought it was odd to see two people who barely knew each other hanging around together. However, the last time he'd seen Arnold he was with his best friend, Gerald, who'd been discussing where to have his bachelor party. Apparently Arnold had asked him who his bride's maid of honor would be, and when he told her it was Helga, the boy became visibly excited. My buddy said it was obvious he missed her terribly. That night at the bar I could have walked up to him and told him I'd been living with his ex in New Your for about five years, but I let it go. There was no point in destabilizing either his or Helga's academic progress. It wouldn't be wise for me to let Arnold know where she lived anyway. It would only stir up ugly memories neither one of them were likely ready for. I still remembered that night five years ago at Rhonda's party. Helga walked through the front door as if she was the epitome of evil itself, ready to consume another victim.
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"Helga, what's wrong?" the tiny, yet hot chick asked her best friend who looked as if she was ready to rip someone's head off.
"I'm taking the first person I meet at this party with me to New York." She gazed over the other girls' head to scope out potential candidates.
"What about Arnold? I thought-..."
"What about him?" Helga barked, startling the poor kid. "Who wants to take a spineless jerk into the heart of New York City?"
"Did something happen between the two of you tonight?"
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Phoebes," she sighed, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Things didn't work out. I'll tell you all about it later. Now, if you'll excuse me for a few moments, I'm gonna find some stooge willing enough to take on an apartment with me in New York."
"Don't you think you're acting a little rash?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I wanna get out of Hillwood as soon as possible." Her hand slipped off Phoebe's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be back whenever you and Gerald decide to have your wedding. I promise. In the meantime, take care of yourself and stay out of trouble."
"Of course. I expect precisely the same from you, Helga." That's when the former Blonde Bomb strolled into the center of my circle of acquaintances.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't one of my ex's begging for me to take her back," I rather enjoyed making myself look good amongst friends.
"You wish. As I clearly recall, I'm the one who dumped you, ya moron!" She poked her fingernail through my shirt, scraping it along the skin of my chest. "Besides, what are you doing at a high school graduation party?"
"See, I told you she'd make a fool out of you if you talked to her, Wolfgang."
"Shut up!" Edmund was a loyal friend, but his comments usually came without tact. "Crashing it, plus it's a great way to meet chicks."
"Robbing the cradle, are we?" Helga winked with a broad grin across her face.
"Come on, Helga. I graduated last year, remember? It's no big deal if I like 'em a little-..."
"I don't want to hear about you fascination with younger women," she suspiciously traced her fingers along the emblem on the front of my t-shirt. "Right now, I have a proposition to offer. How 'bout you come live with me in the Big Apple?"
"New York? Why me?" I suspected there was some kind of malicious undertone behind her proposal. "What's your angle, Helga?"
"No angle," the seductive blonde shrugged her shoulders. "I just need a body to help me out with finances. The cost of living is outrageous where I'm going. So, deal or no deal?"
"I'm game," I played the same nonchalant game with her while Edmund and my buddy Lud drooled with their mouths wide open. Just because he attended Tae Kwon Do classes with her didn't mean Ludwig always had the upper hand or that he was the better choice.
"Have your things packed up and ready a week from tomorrow or I'm takin' someone else. Got it, Bucko?"
"I'll be ready before then." Everyone else seemed intimidated by her but I wasn't. To me she was just an angsty girl with a lot of issues, which was probably why I was the first person she made her offer to.
"Good. See ya nest Saturday, and I'll see you on Monday, Ludwig." My boy could only nod he was so stunned by the agreement that had just gone down. Then the girl swiftly returned to her best friend to discuss what I assumed was her recent bout with Arnold.
"Who's the fool now, Edmund?" I returned to my friend who remained silent.
It was about time I got out of Hillwood to start a fresh new life. I looked forward to hitting the streets of New York.
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"Huh?"
"I said, have a safe trip! What are ya, deaf? Sheesh!" Helga held the door wide open, allowing the frigid air to blow into the apartment. The cold never seemed to bother her as she wore nothing but a pair of jeans and a lightweight hoodie over her t-shirt.
"Sorry, I lost myself in thought. Thanks. You going home for the holidays?"
"Are you kidding? This is my first year without burnt stuffing and Mary Sunshine persuading me to be her personal prep cook. There's nothing like absolute solitude. So, I guess this is it, huh?" She hesitated, waiting for what kind of response from me, I had no idea. I figured I'd just say a few parting words.
"I guess it is. Hey, ya know even though we had an uneventful five years, they weren't all that bad." I got up from the kitchen table, grabbed my coat and threw it around her shoulders. "Keep up with your studies, Helga. I know you've got the drive to succeed. Oh, and here's something so you'll stay warm."
"Keep your coat," she lifted the jacket from her shoulders, throwing it onto my arm. "I'll be fine, besides, the weatherman said it should stay in the upper thirties most of the day. Now, I really have to leave. And when you return home, my lush prone friend, do me a favor, stay off the J.D."
"I will."
"That's what I wanna hear. Goodbye, Wolfie."
"Bye, Blondie." Before I could wish her well, she was out the door and about half a mile down the block.
"These five years in New York were well spent, but I was ready for the familiar comforts of home. It was time to clean up my life.
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Christmas lights stretched across the entire ceiling of the bar, a clear miniature bulb clinging tightly to each corner, while an artificial poinsettia coiled its blooms snugly around the bulb's forest green wiring. A stem of lights raced down the wall and into the floor from each poinsettia, creating the illusion that John and I were sitting in some kind of prism. I pointed the loud display of commercial merchandise lined up along the liquor shelves out to him. He just shrugged. He could care less the display was up the Monday before Thanksgiving. We weren't here to scrutinize holiday decorations. We were here to study social behaviors among subjects who partook in frequent use of alcohol. While John endorsed its side effects of communicative enhancement, I examined its more negative attributes, like over consumption and addiction. In keeping with the holiday spirit, I was thankful that once this mundane experiment was over with, we'd plunge into our entirely separate dissertations starting January. Both of us were ready for a well deserved break.
I could care less," the newest bartender of our current watering hole voiced his opinion, serving us a couple of beers neither one of us touched. "I've seen both sides of the equation. I don't doubt you've had the chance to see Helga's mom in a drunken stupor from time to time, Arnold."
"Actually, no I haven't."
Helga...I hadn't heard that name in over five years. He never failed to slice through the most vulnerable layers of my heart when it came to my former lover. There were times it seemed he was conducting an investigation on the very subject, times like tonight.
"Really?" The red highlights in his auburn hair were exposed to the holiday lighting as he stirred a cocktail for one of his regular customers. "Speaking of Helga, how's she doing? I bet she's feistier than ever."
"I'm sorry, but I can't help you there, Ludwig." It wouldn't render me helpless if he could read the anguish I felt distorting the shape of my face. "I haven't seen or talked to her for years. The truth is, I don't even know where she lives."
"Oh." When it came to reading people, I usually missed the mark, but it truck me funny he wasn't surprised at all by the revelation. He moved on to John, asking, "What about you? You seen her lately?"
"Uh, no," he answered, nervously crinkling an already wrinkled envelope into his shirt pocket.
"Hey, what ya got there, pal?" our server inquired, reaching over the counter to grab at the mutilated piece of paper.
"Uh, nothing!" John instinctively pulled his bar stool away from the counter. "It's just a letter from out of town."
"Leave him alone, Ludwig. His personal mail is none of your business." All the while I defended the man, I secretly wondered who would possibly send him a personal letter.
"Yeah, I guess you're right...the usual, Mac?" he greeted another patron. "It's probably a letter from his grandmother."
With that, John responded by letting out a huge sigh of relief, stroking the shirt pocket as if the envelope contained some kind of precious heirloom. Maybe Ludwig wasn't the only one keeping secrets.
"Let's just drop the subject, okay? I think you've embarrassed John enough."
"Suits me," he shrugged, serving the patron known as Mac a mixture of alcohol I could smell from about a foot away. "Anyway, I'm surprised you haven't at least talked to the woman. You guys were a pretty hot item back in high school.
"That was high school, Ludwig. There's no telling how much either of us has changed since then." I thought he'd have already been aware of this fact by now. "Besides, I'll get that chance when I see her next Saturday at Gerald's wedding. His fiancé is her best friend."
"Oh yeah. I remember him babbling last Friday about what he was gonna do at his bachelor party and all the BS after the ceremony. Lookin' forward to it, aren't ya, ace?"
"Drop it," I warned him sternly, "drop it right now."
"Hey," Ludwig held both hands up in the air, pleading no contest, "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but whatever it was, I'm sorry."
"Yeah..." As I lifted myself up from the seat, John slid off his bar stool more than ready to exit the premises. "I think we'd better head out, John. It's getting late. Come on, let's go."
"Hold on a minute, Arnold," the former menace who now taught tap dancing lessons and moonlighted as a bartender motioned me over to his counter. He never expressed his emotions outwardly, but the empathy shining throughout his eyes was apparent as he awkwardly placed a hand over my shoulder. "You really miss her, don't you?"
"More than you could ever begin to understand, but..." I hesitated because I could feel myself choking on my words, "I've learned I can't continue to dwell on the past. I've moved on."
"Don't know if I believe you on that call, but...I'll pretend to take your word for it."
"Thanks," I returned my nod of approval. "See ya, Ludwig."
"See ya, Arnold, and good luck at your friend's wedding, whatever happens."
Whatever happens, I thought following John out the door. Would I be ready to come face to face with Helga once she arrived at Gerald's and Phoebe's wedding? Should I begin with an apology for something that happened years ago, or should I casually say hello and not even bring the subject up? There was no use in trying to avoid her since she was Phoebe's best friend and that was a childish thought anyway. I'd rather stand right next tot he girl even if we never uttered a word to each other. There went another juvenile thought. Maybe we'd discuss our past or current relationships like we used to so long ago. Even yet another bad idea. Who knew how much she'd changed since high school? Although I hadn't changed that much myself, I'd been on several dates, nothing of which amounted to anything. Somehow, I couldn't help but compare every girl I'd gone out with to Helga, which always ended up with the obvious result. They never measured up. I'd thought by now our high school romance would have been long forgotten, but her essence embedded itself deep into my flesh and I just couldn't shake the memories.
The anticipation of seeing Helga after five years left me filled with anxiety and I started fingering the objects in my coat pocket until I heard a familiar soft clink of precious metal I'd held onto through the years because I'd been unwilling to part with it. When I whirled around to pick it back up from the concrete, a familiar face gazed up into my eyes, holding the golden heart shaped locket out to me.
"Excuse me, but you dropped yer locket, Sweetheart." A combination of pure animosity, shameless self pity and utter lack of enthusiasm emptied the bag of emotions I'd been slinging over my shoulders for several years now.
"Yeah, thanks," I answered curtly, retrieving a treasure of the past out of a thief from the past's hands.
"Yer a mite rude, sir, but at least you had the courtesy to thank me," she returned with the same ornery temperament she'd been blessed with years ago. That's when I realized...
"Wha-...?" She hadn't recognized me. Maybe she was either too drunk to realize who I was or too embarrassed to reveal herself after I'd kicked her out of my house so many years ago. "Sarah, what are you doing loitering outside the local bar so late at night? Following me around, huh?"
"I am twenty-one years old and need not be told what I can and cannot do! Following you? Who are...?" She lifted her heels, standing on the balls of her feet to get a closer view of my face, and upon recognizing it, she gasped. "A-Arnold! Oh my! Why, I haven't seen you since-never you mind. How are you, Sweetheart?"
"Faring well, and you?" She'd outgrown her pubescent body, filling it out with a more womanly figure.
"Very busy. Between work and school I have very little time for pleasure. I've always been a shrewd business woman though." Sarah smiled awkwardly. "I am sorry I did not recognize you, Arnold. I am a fool for not seeing what be right in front of me. Please take no offense. It must be I thought you were an older gentleman. You've cut your hair since I've last laid eyes on you. I did happen upon the photograph in yer locket though. How is Blon-I beg your pardon-how is Helga by the way? Are the two of you married yet?"
"You might find this hard to believe, Sarah, but I haven't seen her since..." I felt the anguish take control of my facial features for a second time.
"I am so sorry," she covered her lips with two fingers," I-I thought you would have kissed and made up by now. I suppose it's-..."
"Look, Sarah, I can't take all the blame off of you, but it's partly my fault too. I should have been more aggressive when it came to getting you off my back."
"I'll be the first to admit, my tenacity was something atrocious then, and remains so, but if I knew it to affect yer relationship with your girl, I would have never..." She paused mid-sentence. "You still love her, don't ye Arnold?"
"If I told you no, would you believe me?"
"No."
"Then I'd say you're a pretty smart woman. Sarah?" I knew I was using poor judgement in taking such a wild risk, but I was lonely and really needed the company of a woman, if only for conversation. "If you're free for the rest of the evening, why don't we discuss the subject over a late night meal? What do you say?"
"I would like to share a conversation over a real date with you. Sure," she nodded. "Ye know what? I'm wondering, where is yer girl, and what is she up to now?"
"I often wonder that myself. I really wish I knew."
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"Man, how many more of these things does he have stashed around our apartment?" I dumped the tenth empty pint of whiskey into the trash bag, knowing I'd probably find at least ten more. Let's see, Jack Daniels, Jack Daniels, Southern Comfort, Jack Daniels, Southern Comfort, Southern Comfort, Johnnie Walker black label...huh? What's this? Stoli? Ugh, he was a real mess, but at least he's trying to do something about it now. I'd hate to see him wind up like Miriam. If she ever stays off the bottle, it'll be a miracle."
"There was so much cleaning to do after I'd returned home from school. If only Wolfgang would have straightened the place up a little before taking off for Hillwood. Instead, I found myself crawling underneath furniture and reaching into the very back of kitchen cabinets to get rid of his not so secret stash of booze. I didn't have time to pick up when I was due for a formal fitting at the bridal boutique at four o'clock this afternoon. Phoebe's kind heart phoned in a special order for me so I wouldn't have to catch a flight to Hillwood during final exams. Because I knew Phoebe so well, she'd probably have selected a garment worthy of the expression on Arnold's face after he hadn't seen me in so many years. Of course I knew he'd attend the wedding as Gerald's best man, but how would he react to my return from the Big Apple? That wasn't what worried me though. I was shaken by the thought of how I might react once I laid eyes on his adorable face.
"But what if he's changed so much I don't even recognize him?" I started to panic when I realized there were only five days left until my best friend said her wedding vows. "Nah...thee's no way I could ever miss that oblong shaped head of his, even if he's turned into an undesirable bum. I wonder what time it is...oh crap! It's three forty-five! I gotta get outta here before I'm too late! Stupid Wolfgang with his stupid whiskey bottles, and I'm not even about to dig into the toilet tank for the Old Grandad I know he ditched in there.
I rushed out the door throwing the jacket Wolfgang left hanging on the coat rack o ver me. It was starting to get pretty cold, most likely in the upper twenties, so I needed at least some type of winter gear if I was going to walk to the boutique. Half way down the block, thoughts of Arnold reentered my conscience, leaving me to contemplate over what action I'd actually take upon seeing my beloved. Knowing I was the responsible party for lack of communication throughout the years, I seemed to be at a loss as to how I'd strike up a conversation with the man. A discourteous hello never proved successful, but an overly passionate embrace might make it look as if I was desperate for his affection. How could five years have passed and I loving Arnold with the same if not more fierce intensity as I had then. What potent spell provoked me to love him when I could have any man I wanted here in New York. It all boiled down to the fact, I truly wanted to believe that the boy I'd loved since childhood was my one and only soul mate. Arnold.
"Hey, Cutie."
"Huh?" I'd been walking so fast I hadn't noticed I passed right by the bridal shop into an unfamiliar section fo town. "Who's there?"
"Right behind ya, Precious," an eerie voice responded as I twirled around, ready to defend myself. "What do you say, you and I participate in a one of a kind erotic dance, Sweetie?"
"Hell no, you disgusting creep!" I moved quickly around the tall, dirty blond fellow using a signature Tae Kwon Do kick, but the burly man caught me by my ankle, twisting it into an unnatural position. "Ow! Let go of me!"
"I never said you had a choice, bitch!" his grip felt like a vice on my leg, but the brute wasn't intelligent enough to realize he had me in a hold in which I could easily maneuver my torso. With all the strength I could muster, I threw all the wight into my upper back, thrusting Old Betsy into his crotch. He let out a piercing cry, tightening his grip around my ankle.
"Yeow! You gonna get it now, Cutie! You wanna play rough, we'll play rough, but you ain't gettin' out of it!" Shoving my ankle to the ground, he pummeled his heavy set body on top of mine. "What you gonna do now, Precious?"
I hated resorting to primitive tactics, but he left me no choice. I ferociously bit down on his lips, this time, causing him to fall off me and lick the fresh blood from his newly acquired wound. This I thought would buy me time to escape and run for help, but his reaction time proved swift as he coiled his thick arm tightly around my neck.
"You know what I do to little ladies who fail to cooperate with me?" he growled, spitting blood into my hair and onto the back of my neck. "I'm gonna take you out, bitch!"
"That's the only way you're gonna get me!" I grunted, struggling to free my neck from his heavy arm. "Ugly as you are. When's the last time you washed that greasy blonde hair of yours? Last century?"
"You askin' for it, aren't ya, Precious? I s'pose you have a death wish, little girl. Now, it's time to get serious. Hey, Jim!"
"Yeah, Slick?"
I need you to come over here for a minute. I got a problem with a troublemaker. Think you can take care of business?"
"What ya need?" Another tall, yet even more treacherous man appeared from behind one fo the buildings we were sandwiched between.
"The little lady I've got here doesn't wanna play."
"Is that so, Doll?" he lifted his brow, retrieving what looked like a steel rod from his snake skin boot. "Well, I've got news for you. You're going to give it up one way or another. You see this here? This is my favorite toy. I like to use it on women like you. It gives me great pleasure to see the terror in their eyes when I shove it between-awwwww! You little..."
"I hate to miss out on all the fun, but I've got a fitting I"m late for," I returned once I threw tubby over my shoulders and kicked sicko man in the stomach. I raced out of the alley as fast as possible, but before I could make it to the closest place to find help, I felt two heavy blows, one to my back, and one to my head. The next thing I knew I was back in my own apartment lying in my bed.
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"I'm sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news, Phoebe," I awoke to the sound of a well known baritone voice engrossed in a telephone conversation with my best friend. "Yes, once again, she's all right! I'm just lucky I found her there in the alley...I know you wish this would have never happened, but sometimes life isn't pretty, kid. Violence, like death, knows no place or time. It can take you just like tha-okay! Okay! You get the point...Why didn't I take her there? I'll tell you why I didn't take her to the hospital! You never found yourself getting patched up in the emergency room only to find out your best friend was-um-I'm sorry, Phoebe. I didn't mean to take my own personal issues out on you...No, it's not okay."
The overly distraught gentleman sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing as he listened to the tiny voice on the other end of the line. Why he sacrificed himself for my benefit remained a mystery, but I guessed maybe even after all these years, he still yearned for my affection. I elected to believe this was all a dream since my head was pounding and I had trouble focusing in on my own bedroom. After about five minutes fo fearing whatever Phoebe had to say to him, the boy returned his reply through the receiver.
"Well, I was fortunate to find a doctor in the area who still makes house calls...no, Helga does not live in a land of fantasy!...He said she needs at least two weeks of bed rest. Whoever it was she met out on the street gave her a good pounding...no, she wouldn't want you to postpone the wedding. It's your day and although she might act like she's all muscle, Helga's got a tender heart underneath her tough girl facade. So, how is Arnold taking all of this?...Pretty shaken, huh?...As long as he knows she's all right, he should be okay...Don't worry, he's in good hands. I made sure of that...What do you mean, what do I mean by that-..."
"H-he-..."
"Hey! You're awake! She's awake, Phoebe! I should probably let you go now. You wanna talk to her before ya go?...You'll call her back later?...Okay...I'll let her know. Remember, no matter how many times he asks, no address, no state, got it?...All right then. Talk to you later. Bye." A pair of comforting blue eyes took in my own. "Helga! How are you feeling?"
"H-Henry," I managed a weak whisper.
"Shh," he pressed his finger into my lips. "Yeah, it's me, Henry. Try to get some rest, okay?"
"Wolfgang?" It felt as if my vocal chords were snapping with every word. I spoke aloud. "What did they...?"
"Yes, Wolfgang sent me to live with you. I knew something was wrong when six o'clock rolled around and you were a no show. I'm just thankful I-..." He stopped, clenching his jaw. I could tell he was fighting back tears. "I'm glad I found you. Whoever did this to you is long gone, but don't worry. They'll get theirs. You just wait and-..."
"But-..." I tried to lift myself up when I realized I was hooked up to an oxygen tank. "Wha-?"
"Let's hear it for home health care," he smiled gently.
"I-..." He could see the terror in my eyes as I started to panic, so he cupped his hands over my shoulders firmly. For all I knew, I could be paralyzed from the waist down, but...I could feel his knew on my foot.
"Calm down," he carefully laid my shoulders back onto the pillow. "It's only temporary. The doctor assigned a nurse to stay here with you for the next twenty four hours in case there's any signs of internal bleeding or concussion."
"You?" I pointed my finger at him. "You set all this up?"
"Yeah. I-I just hated the thought of you lying in a cold bleak hospital room," he eyed me endearingly.
"Th-thanks."
"Helga, you'll get through this. You're gonna be all right. I'm here now."
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Nobody spoke a word when we all sat down in our chairs to eat the Thanksgiving meal spread across the dining room table. About five hours into my football marathon, I figured she show up. She didn't. I assumed she'd be strolling alongside Olga when she popped in to prepare our holiday feast. She wasn't. I thought she was joking when she told Miriam she didn't plan on flying home for the holidays this year. It was no joke. The youngest daughter of the Pataki household was absent from her usual place between her mother and father on what was supposed to be a day to reflect on what we were all grateful for. I couldn't concentrate on that right now, so I decided to start out with the usual routine we'd always done. Let Olga and Miriam go first. Maybe I'd think of something by then.
"Well, it's time to go around the table and tell everyone what we're thankful for. Olga, you go first-bye the way, what happened to the apple streusel you make every Thanksgiving?"
"I-..." she hesitated, looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Probably all that teacher stuff she was so involved with. Her eyes debated whether she wanted to tell me what was really going on or make up some sorry excuse for her weird behavior. This time, she flat out told me the truth. "I...I usually make that dessert with Helga and well, I just didn't feel up to it today knowing she's not...I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm going to go upstairs into what used to be my old room and lie down for a while. If you'll excuse me so graciously from the dining area, Mommy."
"Of course, Olga," Miriam excused her in her usual drawn out tone of voice. "Go on ahead and get all the rest your little heart desires."
"Oh, great," I mumbled, "I've got one moping around while the other's missing. Well, I guess it's just you and me this year, Miriam...Miriam?"
"Huh?" she awoke from one of her midday catnaps.
"It's just you and me today. So, what are you thankful for, Miriam?"
"Oh, B," she blew off the question by waving her hand, "with Olga all depressed and Helga not here, I'm really not in the mood. I'll be in the kitchen if you want anything...I need a smoothie."
"But you haven't had a smoothie in over a month, Miriam!" she pretended not to hear me as she walked into the kitchen. "So, I'm supposed to eat Thanksgiving dinner all by myself?"
I sat alone at the dining table famished because nobody else in the house had an appetite, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from eating a terrific meal. My mouth watered every time I laid eyes on that tender, juicy gobbler and I decided we'd make it a feast amongst ourselves.
"I guess it's just you and me, bird. Olga and Miriam are to busy wallowing in their sorrow 'cause the girl's not here. Guess that means more for us, eh? So, what are you thankful for, bird?" I asked, loading my plate up with an assortment of Olga's homemade dishes. "Me, I'm thankful for these here mashed potatoes."
After I rounded the table, I sat back down to enjoy a quiet, peaceful meal all to myself. Just as I was about to stuff my mouth with a spoonful of mashed potatoes, a voice coming out of nowhere crept into my head, shouting, "It's Helga, Dad. H-E-L-G-A."
Right then and there, I dropped my eating utensil, because along with the rest of the family, I'd also lost my appetite. None of us were upset because the girl wasn't here today. It was the guilt gnawing away at all our consciences from all the years we unintentionally neglected the youngest member of the Pataki household. The only one of us who might have possibly made up for the lost affection in those years was Olga, but that was highly doubtful. She might have taken Helga in to live with her those last few years of high school, but what went on in that household was beyond me.
"Helga, if you're listening, I don't blame you for not coming home for Thanksgiving, and I know you're probably not coming home for Christmas either. All I can say is I've got no excuse for the way I raised you...or lack there of. Well, bird, you're gonna have to go it alone. I'm off to the trophy room to look through the family photo albums. You'll have to take a rain check on our date."
Looking through each photo album, not a single one had a picture of the girl with a smile on her face. Every time I turned to the next page, I'd see a pair of pig tails, arms folded, and that all too familiar scowl. Even in more current albums, the scowl was still there. Then I finally found it in the most recent photo album we had. I found my youngest daughter's smile, but it wasn't a family picture. It was a picture of her and that orphan boy she used to date. What was his name? Alfred? No, Arnold, and who was I kidding? He wasn't really an orphan boy. He'd had a pair of loving grandparents who'd taken better care of him than I had my own daughter.
"You had to go searching outside this family to find happiness, and found it in the least likely of places. In the arms of an orphan boy. What kind of monster am I, Helga? Then again, why should you even listen to me? I never listened to you."
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Author's Note: Thank for the constructive input.