Helga looked again at the envelope in her hands. To Arnold, to be opened upon his arrival in Peru. There was no mistake about it. She hadn't held it in her hand for nearly ten years but she was certain it was hers. Shaking, she moved her hand over the edge of the flap. Suddenly, she was overcome by wave of flashbacks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The young girl was alone in her room crying. She had just heard the worst news of her life; her beloved Arnold was leaving her forever. He was the one bright spot in her dreary life. She wished now that she had told him her best kept secret.
The girl glanced up at her calender. Tomorrow would have been, in her mind, the anniversary of their first date; Valentine's Day. She had been planning to return as Cecil but she knew now that Arnold had other things on his mind and that even Cecil was no contest to the return of his parents. She realized that she would really never see him again. Could she gather the courage to tell him before he left?
No, she thought to herself. She wouldn't dare face him. Another idea came upon her. Perhaps she could take the cowards way out and write him a letter. She could even mark it so that he wouldn't open it until he was in Peru. Knowing that he always 'did the right thing' she was confident that he would follow the instructions written on the envelope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A wave of emotions struck Helga as she thought of that lonely February 13th. With her head against her steering wheel she began to sob uncontrollably. No, not now. Please not now. Everything was just starting to get good. I can't deal with this now. Slowly Helga fingered the outside of the envelope. What am I doing. I can't open this. I don't want to see that scared little girl. Something deep within herself knew that she had to open the letter. She had to read it again.
Slowly, tears running down her face, Helga ripped the letter open. Ten pieces of looseleaf paper fell from the envelope. She realized that her message to Arnold was written on only one page. The others were nine of her best poems. She picked of the paper that began with My Dearest Arnold.
My Dearest Arnold,
Words cannot express the joy you've brought into my life. You are my conscience, my dream boy, my reason for being. One day without you is grave, but a lifetime without you will be torture. The pain I'll feel without you will be the hurt of a broken heart. But no one will ever know because I must hide it. I have no claim to your heart, therefore I'm not allowed to grieve for your absence.
I know I am being selfish for telling you these things. I have often been described as selfish, a number of times by you yourself. I know that you will feel badly for me, because that is your nature. Please don't, for the worse you feel the worse I will feel. I must tell you something I've been longing to tell you for years, something, which by this letter so far, you may have already figured out.
I've stalled for time long enough. It's incredibly hard to tell you this, although I've been longing to tell you for years. Please bear with me, I realize I am just talking in circles but I am currently overcome by passion and sorrow. Passion, because today, Arnold, without even realizing it, you hugged me. A hug from you is like a million embraces. I broke off your hug but don't take that to mean that I wanted it to end. I never wanted it to.
Arnold, I love you. Yes, I love you. In fact, I've loved you since we were three and you told me that you liked my bow. You may not believe this, but that was the first ounce of kindness anyone had ever shown me. My family life is hard. I'm ignored by everyone, forced to compete with a perfect sister for attention. I think you know now who I am but for once I won't just assume you know because, no offense, I've left many clues that you never seem to find.
I want you to understand something Arnold. I don't expect you to write or call me. Although you may not understand it, it could only make me feel worse to have your friendship and not your love. You may think the words I've written are overdramatic for a ten year old girl, but I think your level of mateurity matches my own. This is my eighth draft of this letter. School is going to start in twenty minutes. In less than half an hour you will recieve this letter. I may seem cold to you today but please understand it's my way of adjusting to your departure.
Goodbye Forever,
Helga G. Pataki.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Helga didn't bother to read the poems. With her eyes brimming with tears, Helga doubted that she could have read them if she wanted to. What a troubled little girl she thought to herself. Then glancing into her rearview mirror another thought occured to her. And what a troubled young woman
Helga glanced at the clock on her dashboard. She had been sitting in that car for close to thirty minutes. She was about leave the car and head back to her dorm room when a concerned voice came through the window next to her.
"Helga? Are you OK?"
It was the last person she wanted to see right then.
It was Arnold.