Hiya. Thanx for reviewing. I don't live on them (I live on chocolate, if you wanna know). Chocolate is the BEST food. I have to admit, I dunno if I wrote a disclaimer, so here's one.
I HAVE LITTLE TO OWN IN THIS STORY. THE PLOT MAY BE MY OWN, AND SO IS JULIAN (I THINK).
There, I wrote one, happy?
~~~~~~~~2 Hours Later~~~~~~~
"I actually said 'yes!' I can't believe myself. Why? Maybe because it was so ironic, I couldn't resist. I'm going to Phoebe's party, she invited me, I thought I couldn't get back to America in time. How life changes," Helga sang drearily. She spun in her sage room, and fell on her bed. She clutched her blue comforter, and grimaced. "What if he learns it's Helga Pataki? If he thought, then he would realize it could only be me. How people change." Helga dug her nails into the bed. "Ah-ha! My pink metallic mini skirt!" Arnold is so stupid, he didn't think, he didn't want to think. He didn't want to face the reality of an actual woman standing in front of him, not wanting to go out with him. All the girls fell for him in high school except me. I fell head over heals in love when I was ignorant. I even think Phoebe had a crush on him for a few days, after he danced with her at a dance. Face facts, football-head, you are not he same person. Well, I get to see my old friends. Look, there's Arnold's car, a cute red sports car; I like my blue SUV. Knock! Knock! "I'll get it." she ran across her small apartment, and open the door. Arnold stood there in similar pants, and a blue sweater.
"Emily, you look amazing," he gasped. She just glowered. She posed again, but them scowled. An expression he had seen so many times before, and expression which hid other emotions.
"Criminy! I wear a skirt, and your eyes pop, football-head!" Helga exclaimed, and quickly covered her mouth. At this rate I might as well as say I'm Helga Pataki, and here's the book of poems I wrote about you in fourth grade. See I used to be love with you, but you notice I got over it? I already told you about that though, so what else is there to hide from you?
"Helga Pataki? Is it really you? Maybe, oh," he slowed. His face dropped like he wanted it to be Helga. "No, why would you tell me you're Emily?" He sighed almost sadly. His clear blue eyes that showed everything showed remembrance and sorrow. Arnold's voice was so quiet she couldn't make out the words. "I shouldn't have let her leave." He understood, I guess. Yet he still is blind. Remember, you are an educated young woman, ignore your past accent. "Well, lets journey to the party, then." She held out her hand, and Arnold took it, leading her to his convertible. The trip was quick and short. The wind mussed her hair than had been hanging loosely down her back, and shook loose all Arnold's hair that he had tried to gel down. They pulled up next to gray duplex. Arnold and Helga walked up the slate sidewalk up to the small porch that held only a folding chair. Arnold pressed the doorbell, and a low buzz sounded through the door. A short Asian woman answered the door. She quickly rubbed her hands on her jeans, and adjusted her square black plastic glasses.
"Hello Arnold, come in," the woman said. She led them into a small tiled room. The walls were covered in coats and the floor shoes. "Take your coats off."
"Oh, Phoebe, I want you to meet Emily," Arnold introduced. Helga grinned, and watched Phoebe smile, and quickly wink, almost so fast Helga thought she imagined it.
"Salutations, I'm Emily, or whatever Arnoldo just said," Helga pointed over to Arnold. She blushed, and hid her head in shame. Phoebe could tell that it was Helga, or she had a pretty good idea that it was she. Arnold handed Phoebe his trench coat, and walked into the party.
Phoebe grinned, "Helga, I thought you couldn't come. For I assume you must be Helga, for whom else who call him that? May I also take the liberty of saying that if you are Helga, you might as well tell Arnold that it's Helga, so he can stop calling you that absurd name."
"Your assumptions are correct. I also might add that when I accidentally asked Arnold to pick me up at the airport, I forgot my name for a second. I gave him the first name I thought of," voiced Helga. It wasn't that whole truth, she intentionally gave him her wrong name, but she DID suddenly forget her name. At least everyone hasn't lost his or her mind in the last few years. Reunions, how I hate them. It's not Phoebe's fault, it isn't a reunion for her, and for me it is. I've tried to seclude myself from my past, I guess. I didn't want to continue to be two-sided girl, who was publicly a bully. When I went to college I was a whole different person. When I got my road scholarship, and went to Oxford to study, I put on a new mask. Can't I depart a mask? I guess not, this one is more like myself, than before, I guess. "What's the party for, Phoebs?"
"Gerald proposed," Phoebe announced. "And I'm getting my Ph.D. in physics." Phoebe took both Helga's hands and jumped in place. Her voice squeaked in happiness. Helga had never seen her so happy.
"That's wonderful!" exclaimed Helga.
"How are you doing?" Phoebe looked interested; they hadn't contacted each other for months. Not since Phoebe e-mailed her about the party, four months ago.
"I was okay, the my vacations and photo shoot in England went very well. Then Arnold apparently fell in love with him, and I just feel so bad. I mean, I can't return those same feelings." She sighed sadly. Arnold liked her a lot, and now, now for once she couldn't return her feelings.
"Oh, yes. Well, you'll be noticed, Arnold has gotten around. I mean he's gone out with, well, everyone except Rhonda and you," Phoebe replied. Helga's eyes got big, and she took a second to reply. Rhonda? Why not her? I mean she was popular, once. She now is probably prettier, and older, and more grown. Maybe her lover is Julian. He, he, used to study with me sometimes in high school, he was always with her. Maybe they got together.
"Rhonda?" Her thoughts were spoken, accidentally.
"Yes, she well, was never seen after high-school. I don't know really what she did. Julian does." Phoebe released one of Helga's hands, and still held the other while she led her through the door onto the party. Phoebe almost screamed to get Gerald's attention above the loud music. Gerald waded through the crowd. He went to Phoebe, taking her other hand. Phoebe let go of Helga's hand.
"Hello, uh, Helga?" His voice was deep, melodic. Both women smiled at his confusion. The room was brightly lit with Christmas lights and steamers. The large room was flashing with multi-colored lights and loud rock music. Sunset shone through tall glass doors that went to the veranda. A few people sat on the veranda, two black haired people, and some others.
"Yes, it's Helga Pataki," explained Phoebe. Other's feet on the wood floor almost droned out her voice.
Gerald bowed, mockingly, so you could only see the top of his Afro, at Phoebe, and asked, "would you care to have this dance with me?"
Phoebe replied, through her giggles, "I'd be much obliged." They left Helga alone. Two people on the veranda walked back inside. The woman took both black coats, and walked towards the coatroom in the front of the house. The female passed Helga on her way in, and started a conversation on the way out. She stopped in front of Helga. She half smiled, like she was hiding something.
"Hello, Helga. I didn't know you could make it. Oh and how did you ever get Arnold to take you?" she laughed cynically. Her words were mid-range, and unused. She sounded like rarely talked. It sounded if it was intended, she drawled. The woman pulled her silky black hair off her face, and shook her head a little. Then she stood still, like a statue. It unnerved Helga.
"And you are . . .? I don't think I know you," Helga stuttered. She just smiled. Few words, and as silent as stone.
"I know you, and you should at least know who I am. I've known you since I was four, I think." She turned around for a second, and faced Helga again. "Rhonda Lloyd." Helga gasped, and her mouth turned into an O like a child. Helga made stuttering noises, which just made Rhonda's mouth contort more.
"Rhonda? Why are you here? I mean you're not Phoebe's or Gerald's friend."
"I got an invitation as you did or Arnold. She's just celebrating. She invited everyone from elementary school, you, me, Julian, Arnold." She put her hands on her hips, and stared at Helga with a you-should-have-known-that look on. She then turned, and walked back to the black haired man she was earlier talking to. Helga looked about, and started to walk to the punch bowl. Why am I so infatuated with that punch bowl? Why don't sit down at the nearest chair? What am I? I'm Helga if she was nice, pretty, angelic, cute, wonderful, in other words, I'm Helga if she was perfect, at least to other people's point-of-view. Well, for Arnold. Phoebe just treats me as she always has. Except Rhonda's. What was all that? . She walked into a large mass of dancing people, so she just sat in the nearest chair. She could see very little from where she was sitting. The black haired man that was with Rhonda earlier walked over, and sat down in the empty seat next to her.
"Hullo," he said. His tenor voice sounded interested. She turned around, and faced him. He was tall, with longish spiky black hair and mellow gray eyes. "Is this seat taken?" He looks like Rhonda, except her pointed features smoother and rounder. He's even tall like Rhonda, are they related, like siblings?
"No, I don't think so. About the chair I mean. Hello," Helga babbled. She blushed, and started to pick at the hem of her skirt. He's really cute, and polite. He's also familiar. I think I knew him. Maybe I just imagined it. "What is your name?"
"Julian. Yours?" He grinned, and suddenly turned his head. He said something Helga couldn't hear, and turned back to Helga. Rhonda walked over and sat next to Julian.
"Well, uh, Emily." She then shook her head, and muttered to herself. Rhonda glared at her. "Helga. My name's Helga." Rhonda half-smiled. She then turned her head from Julian and Helga's conversation. Julian absent-mindedly took Rhonda's hand and squeezed it. She nodded, and understood. Helga sat baffled, puzzled how Rhonda could decipher a meaning they both understood from that simple action.
"I came with Arnold. I used to Phoebe's best friend, by another name." Helga smiled shyly.
He laughed suddenly, "Rhonda told me about you. She told me much, in her point-of-view. I know you too. Never mind that, would you like some punch?" He stood, and walked away. Rhonda tapped her long white fingers on her knees. Then she scowled, and tapped her knees again, differently.
"Yes please. I was trying to get to the bowl but gave up." Julian? Who is he? Well, anyway, he's more interesting than Arnold is at the moment. Why is he talking to me? Will Arnold mind? Why Rhonda? Why is Rhonda sitting there, why did Julian want her to come over? Arnold took Julian's chair between Helga and Rhonda as soon as Julian left.
"Emily, I was . . . um . . . thinking of leaving soon, do you mind?" Arnold asked. Rhonda stopped tapping her knees momentarily.
"You can leave with out me. I can walk home. I don't really want to leave, I haven't met all your friends yet," explained Helga. Her eyes pleaded. It made Rhonda sick. Please let him buy that. I mean, it isn't quite true, I want to get better aquatinted with Julian, I really like him. Except, what about Rhonda? Are they involved with each other? How?
"Julian isn't one of my friends, he's one of Rhonda's, besides, it's getting late," Arnold protested. "And you seem to know them all already." His face was worried. "It's only five. I really don't know anyone yet."
"It's late if we want to have dinner together in a fancy French restaurant on the West Side." It would be very romantic. It would be nice if I went with someone else . . . Julian.
"I have to . . . uh . . . pair my socks . . . and do my laundry. I've been out of the country for a while. I'm behind on laundry. I can't," stammered Helga. Rhonda made quiet gagging noises. Julian laughed quietly in the background. Arnold stood, and left. His face dropped. He disappeared into the coatroom. "My laundry is already done."
"I know that," Julian replied, his face was stony. She couldn't read his emotions.
"
"He didn't," commented Helga.
"Yes, he did. You think too low of him. Yes, he is blinded by love, and acts like a fool because of it, but you think that's all he is. Helga, Emily, why? Why didn't you tell him you were Helga Pataki?" he asked. Helga could now tell he was angry. He was quiet, grim, and grave. He was very quiet. Rhonda's look was almost sympathetic, like she had experienced his wrath before.
"Because of the day I graduated. He came to my graduation, an-an-an-an-and I admitted that I used to love him. I treated like it was nothing, I was so technical about it." She cowered in his rage. He took a deep breath, and sighed.
"You were ashamed, Helga. If your past was erased, you'd be giddy with glee that a cute boy would take you to a party, you'd tell him your real name, and he might care, but get over it." Does he think I'm dim-witted?
"Of course I'd act differently if my past was erased." Julian took her hand, and led her out of the party, onto the veranda. He shot a glance at Rhonda, and she nodded. She stood too. I think I love him, even when he's angry. "How do you know? How do you know that I'd be ashamed?"
"Because a girl did the same thing you did."
"You mean avoid you because she used to say she loved you?"
"Our relationship was different for her. She was beautiful. She had the longest silky black hair that would flow behind her. I never told her, and everything was different. I should have. She was too afraid her façade would slip. Well, the façade she created for herself to cover herself, the one that was made in my absence. She dropped it. We were like siblings. If she only she knew . . . " Julian sighed. "Helga, you may leave him because of other things, but don't because you were stupid."
"You sound like a psychiatrist, in distress." Julian laughed half-heartily at Helga's remark. Helga quickly shot her glance over to Rhonda, leaning near the window. Rhonda reminded her of Julian's description of the girl. Rhonda's eyes showed infinite depth, gray pools that took in all, and omitted none. She couldn't tell what Rhonda felt for Julian, they seemed more than siblings. Is she the girl Julian was describing? Did he ever like her? How could he? She was all riches pomp and clothes, Julian understands me, everyone, maybe her, and he doesn't fit into such a cookie-cutter shaped person. How could anyone understand her, she is a shadow, standing there, silent, watching me talk with Julian. Everyone else dances and she stays alone, watching, yearning.
"This is my favorite song." He stood up, and bowed, asking Helga to dance. She was honored. He mouthed over Helga's head something she couldn't make out and she saw Rhonda play an invisible piano briefly, her eyes laughing. Julian's gray eyes sparkled with some unknown humor.
"Can I leave Arnold for other reasons?" she asked, and smiled. Like for you?
"Yes," Julian said as he released Helga to tie his suede sneakers. Phoebe asked them if they wanted dinner, and they walked inside. Is he playing me for his fancy? What am I to him? What is Rhonda to him?
