It was the longest eleven hours of my life. I couldn't sleep, so I just sat by the phone all night and all morning. Literally, I waited right next to the phone, like a stalker, waiting for eleven 'o clock to roll around. And when it finally did, I almost wimped out.
It wouldn't have been the first time I'd wimped out with him. But this time was the most important of all my past experiences with Arnold. He needed to know. I needed to let him know.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, hi Arnold. This is Helga. Did you still wanna do something this afternoon?"
For some reason, he was silent for a really long time. When he finally did speak, he chuckled a little. "Yeah, can you meet me here? I thought we'd go to the park."
I was losing my nerve. That was almost too much like a date for me to handle. "Um...sure. But why were you laughing?"
"When?" he asked.
I sighed, for some reason feeling like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth. "Just a minute ago. You got all quiet and then you started laughing."
He was quiet for another moment, then: "It was nothing."
I was starting to get a little bit mad, as I'm prone to do now and then. I squeezed the phone cord and lowered my voice. "Tell me, please. I feel stupid enough as it is."
He sighed. "It wasn't anything, Helga. Honest. I-I don't even remember laughing."
I decided to drop it. I was probably hearing things. I mean, I was nervous enough to. So I agreed to meet him at his house in ten minutes. As I walked out of my room, I realized I had forgotten my bow. I grabbed it off my dresser and set it up in my hair, just like I'd done every day since preschool. Yeah, I was way too old to be wearing a pink bow in my hair. But I, of course, didn't care. It was for him. Everything I did was for him.
He smiled weakly at me as he stepped off the front porch and down to the sidewalk. It was hot. I mean, it was hot. He was wearing a white t-shirt and shorts, and I was wearing the same. I was kind of embarrassed to be dressed so similarly to him. I mean, isn't that what boyfriends and girlfriends do? Some sort of cute...togetherness...thing... Or whatever.
"You don't mind going to the park, do you?" he asked, not exactly looking at me, but sort of . . .through me.
I shook my head. "Why would I mind? The park's as good a place as any to talk, isn't it?"
He just nodded. I realized that I sounded a little gruff. I made a mental note to lighten my tone of voice to something a little more girlish.
We walked in silence, the only sounds coming from his sandals flopping on the ground. They were too big for him. Way too big for him. I stared at them as we walked.
As we walked, I started thinking. Actually, it was more like I was having a mental debate with myself. I started wondering whether my intentions were pure in this situation. I mean, was I just taking advantage of the fact that he was hurting and lonely so I could coerce him into developing bogus feelings for me? I'd like to think that I'm not capable of something like that, but I know I am.
Before I could start the second round of my own personal counseling session, we were there. Arnold motioned that we should head over by the cluster of trees toward the back of the park. I didn't see why not, so we continued. And he finally started talking. Leave it to Arnold to break the ice in style, too.
"My whole life sucks. You know that?"
I raised my eyebrows. Arnold was typically optimistic to a fault. This was a new one.
"I know how you feel," I answered, then immediately wished I had said something else. A hurt look flashed across his face as he stopped and turn to stare at me.
"Tell me, Helga, when was the last time your grandparents died? Or maybe your parents?"
I held my hands up in defense. "Relax, Arnold! I just meant that I sympathize with you. I . . . . . ."
He must have realized he was jumping all over my case without reason, because he looked at me apologetically. "You what?"
I swallowed, hard. I wasn't about to show any more emotion than necessary around him. Not yet, anyway. "I wouldn't know what it feels like to have a . . . caring family. You were lucky that you got to experience that, if only for the time you had."
He looked me a moment longer, then sighed. "Sorry, Helga."
Just like Arnold to apologize when he hadn't done anything wrong. I wanted to hug him.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for."
We started walking again. My thoughts were racing at a mile a minute. No, two miles a minute. I was going over every possibility in my mind. Like, if I told him how I felt now, would it make the walk to the trees awkward? And if I waited until we got to the trees, would he just use the fact that we were standing still to clam up and not say anything? And what if World War III started just as I was about to confess my undying affection for him? Would I have a chance to say 'I love you' before the nuke vaporized the city?
"I don't know what I'm going to do now," he said, so quietly I almost didn't hear him.
"What do you mean?" I asked, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
"I'm pretty sure all the borders are leaving. I'm in Susie's care temporarily, but she can't afford another mouth to feed. They're bound to put me up for adoption eventually."
At that moment, I began to realize just what exactly had happened. Arnold's grandparents were dead. They were no longer around to take care of him. He might have to leave, maybe even live far away from me.
All that made my desire to tell him my feelings seem pretty insignificant.
"I . . . I don't know, Arnold." He was looking at me, but I kept my eyes glued to the ground. I was shocked. Shocked at the situation, shocked that he might be leaving, shocked that I was about to start crying, and shocked that there was absolutely nothing I could say or do that could take all his pain away. I was an idiot for even thinking that my love would make a difference. In the grand scheme of things, I was nothing. Just some mean blonde girl who called him football head.
We stopped under the shade of the trees. It was still really, really hot. He sat down, and I joined him, albeit a little nervously. I tasted blood, and realized I had been biting my lip to stop myself from crying. He noticed the blood and offered me some antiseptic cream or something.
"No thanks."
It was really quiet. I mean, no sound. No birds, no cars, no people. Just the two of us. Whether that silence was just in my head or not, I'm not sure. I had to say something.
"Arnold, I . . ."
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "You what?"
"There's been something that I've been meaning to tell you for a long time. And . . . well . . . in light of everything that's happened . . . I just don't know if I should."
He chuckled. Again, that same chuckle I heard on the phone. It made me mad--it felt like he wasn't taking me seriously.
"Why are you laughing?" I demanded, trying not to sound mean.
He sighed and stopped laughing. "I know what you've been meaning to tell me," he said, a strange look coming over his face. I couldn't quite place it . . . it wasn't happy, but it wasn't . . .
"You-you do?" I asked, tired of not being able to talk to him seriously without stuttering.
"Yeah, I've known for years."
I was dumbfounded. He knew?
"Yeah, you've always hated my guts, and you're just being nice to me now because you feel guilty for treating me like crap for ten years."
My face fell. Seriously, I could feel it fall. It hurt.
"What are you talking about, Football Head? Why should I feel guilty?!"
Uh oh. There goes my congeniality.
"Admit it, Helga. Just come out and say that you hate my guts, and it'll be over. Alright? Because quite honestly I'm sick of all your crap."
I tried to stop myself, but I couldn't. I slapped him in the face, hard. He looked up at me, a red hand mark on his face.
He stood up, turned from me, and walked away. Didn't even glance back over his shoulder. Probably didn't even think about looking back.
He hadn't deserved that. He was a good guy. He was right to have doubts about my intentions. I would, too. But once again, I had proven how uncontrollable Helga G. Pataki is. And I had nothing to lose for it but the love of my life.