Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.
Foreword: So here we are. What started as a curiosity has now become a pentalogy, the final part of which you are about to start reading. But I must confess that while I knew how to start this, and I know how it's going to end, I'm still not sure about the journey to get there. Though I always have a framework going into multi-part stories, I tend to handle them on a chapter-by-chapter basis. Sometimes to my surprise as what transpires can deviate to varying degrees from what I had originally planned. Anyway, I'm honored to present you with this story. Enjoy!
Oh yeah...I call Rhonda a certain b-word in this chapter that fits her character most appropriately...
1. If We're Being Honest…
Buckley Lloyd was in quite a quandary and not for the first time was Rhonda at the center of it. The point of contention was the gifts she'd periodically demand for any supposed, mostly arbitrary occasion. These weren't necessarily issues of any great significance for him. Over the years, he'd grown accustomed to the ever-escalating wish lists of a capricious, fashion-conscious girl child. To be fair, the process had taken on a certain sense of predictability. As a broker – indeed, as someone who functioned daily on prescience and predictive data analysis – he'd become adept at predicting and providing in advance for Rhonda's gift requests. But this one was a doozy.
He feared that he may have to say no to his beloved daughter this time.
Buckley Lloyd was only – at most – maybe partially aware of what had happened for him to reach this current junction in his life. Ultimately, the starting event could be traced earlier that Saturday to the rooftop of the Sunset Arms during a clement late afternoon.
"OK Arnold, you win! I'll admit it!" Rhonda conceded. "This idea was not as harebrained as I thought it would be! The sunset is absolutely wonderful!"
Rhonda and Arnold were seated on a plush velour couch, a victim of the Lloyds' latest home improvement project. Naturally, Arnold thought it terrible to let the couch go to waste and proposed repurposing it. All it took was to convince Rhonda to come onboard, which proved to be the hardest part. Convincing her father to part with the item – which was destined for disposal anyway – was easy. Even the logistics involved in getting it to The Sunset Arms and on the roof weren't as difficult as anticipated: the experience garnered from moving the piano to the roof was once again put to good use.
"But what about the winter months? You know, the rain and snow? I mean, this is velour!"
Her question was a practical one, not meant to undermine his achievement in any way. His answer was not a defensive one: "Then we do the same that we do with the piano," Arnold said while pointing at the musical instrument, which Rhonda noted was still in more or less pristine condition despite the location and the exposure.
"Oh, Arnold! Always with a plan for everything!" chided Rhonda, while silently admitting that her boyfriend had all the bases covered. And she had to admit: the payoff for moving the couch was totally worth it. Here they were. Seated, reclining against each other as they took in the glorious sunset.
After a period of contented silence, Rhonda broke the silence with: "So Arnold, ever thought about what you'd like to do for summer vacation?"
"Not really," he replied. "Probably the same I've always done. Go out. Hang out with my friends." He then turned to Rhonda and saw a well-rehearsed look of pretend hurt in her expression. He instantly amended his answer: "Oh yeah! And hang out with you of course!"
He then added: "Whenever I can fit you in my schedule, that is."
His teasing earned him a chuckle from his girlfriend, then a whack from her with a throw pillow. Rhonda then course-corrected the conversation. "Arnold," she asked, less frivolously this time, "How do you feel about traveling? I mean long-distance travel."
Arnold could see where the conversation was headed and moved to head her off. "You mean like San Lorenzo? Rhonda, look…" – he paused briefly for thought – "I told you all I know about my parents. All of what my grandparents told me. And that the state of Washington has declared them legally dead already."
He paused again as traces of sadness crept into his demeanor, then: "And…well…I…I made my peace with that. I cried my eyes out when the people from Helpers for Humanity broke the news to me and my grandparents. But…I moved on."
"But you still miss them," said Rhonda – she didn't ask. "You tell me you've moved on. I don't believe you!"
"Rhonda, listen—"
"No, Arnold, you listen!" Rhonda sharply interrupted. She then stopped long enough to settle herself and continue in a softer tone. "I mean, I noticed…even before we became…well, us…I noticed how obsessed you were about helping everyone out. Whether or not they wanted it, whether you knew them or whether they were total strangers. Whether or not their problems had anything to do with you."
At this point, she was taken aback at how subtly her closeness with Arnold had changed her. She had unwittingly demonstrated just one of its positive side-effects: heightened empathy. Or "Empathy, period!", as Nadine once ribbed her.
She turned to Arnold and took his hands in hers. "It just seemed so…I don't know…unnatural. Like there was a hole inside you that you were trying to fill. It didn't feel like you did it because you wanted to, more like you felt you had to."
She paused for a bit to let him get a word in. He'd been silent and was silent still, so she continued. "And then when you told me all about your parents at my place, I could see how it was such a sore spot for you. They spent their lives helping others, so you do the same to honor them, right?"
He wanted to answer, but his words remained stuck in neutral. Eventually, he managed: "I'd go crazy if I didn't. You're right, I miss them. I miss them and it's killing me inside."
The mood had now turned anything but romantic – it was now bordering on uncomfortable – and what Rhonda wanted to say would not improve it one iota. But say it she did. "Is that also why you were only ever infatuated with any given girl. Ruth. Maria. Lila. You like-liked them, you weren't…in love with them. In love with being in love, maybe?"
This confused Arnold: he always thought that liking-liking and being in love were the same thing. And yet, what she said made sense. When he thought about it, his attraction to the aforementioned girls seemed superficial. Even his attraction to Lila, whom he had pursued most vehemently of the lot. Still, Rhonda had more to say.
"Kinda like…I don't know…interested in them, but not willing to try for a relationship in case you got rejected. I don't know, maybe you don't want to feel again like you did that night when your parents left you?"
Arnold's expression changed to one that suggested at least some credence to her words. But Rhonda wasn't yet done: "Which makes me wonder, Arnold," she paused for a breath. "Why me? Why that day in the rain? Why decide that I was the one worth taking the chance on?"
Arnold paused again under the weight of those questions. Before he could answer though, Rhonda added: "And please, don't say it was just because of my looks! I mean, as good-looking as I am, I won't believe you if that was your only reason. Not from you! Not from Arnold Phillip Shortman!"
Damn! Why did she have to jump straight to the difficult questions? Couldn't she at least do a gradual build-up and ease into it? And he had no choice but to answer truthfully. With that resolved, he looked her in the eye, his seriousness unwavering. "I admit your looks had something to do with it. A lot, in fact."
He saw her lower her eyes in disappointment and he knew he had to say the rest of his say quickly. "At first! At first! Then…I saw how strong you were. Physically, in sports, you were something else. I liked how you handled yourself against bigger opponents. I mean…even Helga respected you on the field! I found it so…irresistible!"
"Oh?" was all Rhonda could say in response, her cheeks reddening. Her disappointment had turned to curiosity as she felt there was more to come. Indeed, there was.
"Then remember how you eventually handled the situation when you and your folks came to live at the Sunset Arms. You know, when you were…uh, when you were…"
"Poor, Arnold," Rhonda interrupted, almost matter-of-factly. "It's fine, you can say it. Besides, if Helga can get over her obsession with you without ending up on the FBI's most-wanted list, then I can surely get over that one word."
"Yeah, poor," resumed Arnold. "You showed how strong you were here as well," he continued as he tapped the side of his head. Plus, we all saw how you'd stand your ground against almost everyone for what you believed in."
He hadn't yet taken his eyes off her and wasn't about to yet. If anything, his serious look took on an agreeable intensity as he spoke on: "You know…all these years my grandparents kept telling me about how brave and strong-minded my parents could be. Even if they weren't around, I still saw them as my ideals, the people I'd most like to be when I grow up. And I guess I saw some of their qualities in you. And" – he paused and blushed – "I guess that's how you won me over. But I'll admit your good looks didn't hurt much either."
Wow! He'd said quite a bit more than what was supposed to be his 'piece'. Rhonda's reaction was one of ever reddening speechlessness. Arnold smiled at her reaction and capped off his explanation with: "And besides, you're a really good kisser."
Then he watched as the crimson on her cheeks deepened even more. What a surprise it always was. Rhonda: ever the fashion and beauty bellwether. Always projecting confidence in her appearance, conduct, and demeanor. And yet, one bit of – heartfelt – flattery from her boyfriend could undo all of that. It felt as though of all the opinions of her, his somehow mattered more than most.
She maintained her rosy shyness for a short while, before... "Wow! I never knew it went that deep! I knew you were always a what's-on-the-inside kind of guy but…wow!"
But Arnold saw no humor in that statement. "And you know what? I mean it!"
"And that's why I want to do something really special for you!" Rhonda piped as she pivoted back to her original proposal. "Daddy can make it happen. He can hire all the experts to help find your parents and—"
"Rhonda, stop!" Arnold cut her off again, this time maybe a mite too snappily. "I told you the state has already declared them legally dead. And it's not like Helpers for Humanity didn't try searching for them before giving up. Not to sound mean, but what could a new search party do what they couldn't?"
Rhonda then saw a side of Arnold she was sure nobody else had seen. Someone who was willing to give up. Someone about to accept the status quo, even though she knew that doing so was the last thing he wanted to do. There's that empathy again, she self-observed as she witnessed his pain and disappointment after he'd spoken those last words.
And sensing that he'd rather be left alone, she rose to her feet and announced: "Arnold, it's getting late now. Thanks for a wonderful afternoon, but I'll be seeing myself out now. You take care."
She capped off her goodbye with a peck on his cheek and: "Anytime you feel ready to talk about this, you know where to find me."
And as melancholy as he was feeling at that moment, Arnold couldn't help but reflect on how lucky he was to have Rhonda as he watched her leave.
Rhonda's walk home was silent and uneventful. A stark contrast against the streets of the neighborhood coming to bustling – almost festive – life to celebrate the onset of another Saturday evening that didn't involve freezing point temperatures. Not the most opportune time to think and reflect. But she did anyway.
He's hurting inside, he just doesn't want to show it.
She looked around her, allowing herself to take in all sorts of activities. Groups of friends excitedly heading for a night out. Couples lingering on the sidewalks, in the park. Girls playing double Dutch on whatever appropriate hard surface they could find.
Terrific, we both picked the wrong evening to dampen the mood.
As she continued walking, the activity around her became louder, more animated, more joyous. Taking on the vibe of a block party. Rhonda suddenly became envious in and amongst the hubbub.
Damn, I wish he could be here with me.
At that moment, a family of three approached her from the opposite direction. Young parents and the bonniest little toddler perched upon the one mother's shoulders. At first, Rhonda noted how stylishly the kiddo was dressed in its designer gear and how accessorized to the gunnels it was. Secondly, she felt the joy emanating from the trio, the sense of family. And suddenly she was sad for Arnold. Then the child turned towards Rhonda, locking eyes with her, and smiling ever so innocently. Rhonda responded with a reflexive little wave and a smile of her own to the little one. Her action prompted more reflection.
They say I'm a snob and a prima donna, but I still have parents who love me. She then cast her mind back on the happy family with whom she'd just crossed paths. Just think of all those moments he's been denied. It's not fair! He deserves better! But what if his parents really are dead…
NO! If Arnold's hope was wavering, then she would have to keep them alive. Somehow.
I love him too much not to try at least. At the very least, he needs to know.
She felt her pace gradually quicken as she was now in a hurry to get back home. Before too long, she entered her home, announced her presence, then made a mad dash for her father. She found him in the lounge, in front of the television, flipping non-committedly between a live tennis tournament and a rowing event between two English universities.
"Daddy!" she greeted her father with a hug from behind and a kiss on his pate.
"Pumpkin!" he responded. "You're home rather early. Something the matter between you and Arnold?"
"No, Daddy, nothing's the matter." She answered. "Nothing serious, anyway."
"Oh?" His curiosity was piqued.
"Well, we were talking at his place and we touched on a subject that's very painful for him."
"What? A nice boy like him and you say something is troubling him?" the elder Lloyd responded. Rhonda knew how highly her father regarded her boyfriend; in fact, right this moment she was banking on it.
"Anything you want to talk about, Pumpkin? The least I can do is hear you out."
And there was her opening.
And there's your conclusion for the chapter. Thank you for reading; as ever, you lot are the most important part of why I write my stories. Not much in the way of notes for this chapter, only the reassurance that the fates of Gerald, Phoebe, Helga, and Nadine will all be explained in the story despite them having at most passing mentions in this chapter.
So here's to me - hopefully - finishing a chronicle I never knew I'd started.
And what would a chapter be without the Spotify list? For this chapter, it comprises:
Serious – Duran Duran
My Father's Eyes – Eric Clapton
Maybe I'm Amazed – Paul McCartney
You Gotta Be - (Original Mix) – S.E.L
Where In The World – Swing Out Sister
So that's your lot for now. See you next chapter!