Chapter 5
The party of cold-blooded rich souls that populated the city raged on for long after the disappearance of Arnold and Helga. No one noticed their departure, for all were too consumed by their own lives unfolding to notice the great dealings of another's. It was interesting from a spectator's perception to encounter these boundaries, to experience them, and to reflect. It was less taxing to learn from the mistakes of others, than through those of your own. But, of course, the lesson is better learned in person, and not through the countless whispers one encounters along the long isles of this stage we like to call Life.
Lila was obsessing over what Arnold had said. She knew that, of course, he did not mean bad by it. Arnold was not capable of malice. But, of course, she could not help being reminded of her problems. She had, as a close friend, informed him of her infertility. The perfect couple, in the headlines, in the tabloids, but only a few heads knew the truth regarding their childlessness. Many had always wondered why two people who loved one another as much as Lila and Jonathan did had not conceived a baby. The questions were never answered. Only the good was shown to public. Lila did not want to receive the sympathies a typical barren couple encountered.
"Oh, that poor girl. She's so pretty too. Horrid fate gets the best of them."
"Jon had always wanted to be a dad. I guess you never can tell, can you?"
"Lila would have made a good mother."
"I saw him the other day, he seems to be holding up well, considering the disappointment he had to face."
"Imagine not hearing the little footsteps against the floor. Nobody deserves that."
"Let's go play some football in the park. Take your mind off this thing, eh?"
"Darling, would you like to look after my son today? I have to run out for an appointment with my plastic surgeon."
"How you holding up, man? You know, I was doing research for this article last night and I accidentally stumbled over this-"
"Maybe you should seek marriage counseling."
"-anyway the article said that-"
"Lila, you know there's more to life than that. I mean, think, at least you won't ever have to find a homemade bong in the kitchen. Oh just a little joke, get it?"
"-maybe you should get a dog."
Gerald could not believe his eyes. One moment she was alone, and the next, Phoebe was holding onto the tuxedo of tall, masculine, dark eyed persona, smiling widely, and portraying what a good first date must have looked like from the side.
He did not want to see it, he tried to dissuade himself of the impending possibility that the one he had betrayed could live on and not perish, not dry up. He did not dare to think about it. Unfortunately, now he had no choice.
His eyes studied her as she whispered something into his ear, those cherry lips of hers that belonged only against HIS mouth and not the lobe of another. He watched the man part from her with a solid reluctance, and he watched Phoebe smile pleasurably as she checked her watch and walked toward the window to the balcony. Without any consideration of what he would do proceeding the movement, Gerald ran in her direction. He had to make her see him, he had to. He had to remind the woman he loved that he still existed.
"Phoebe!" Gerald exclaimed forcefully as he followed her onto the terrace and cornered the frame as to not let her slip away.
"What do you want now?" she asked, studying him angrily.
"Who was that I just saw you with?"
"That is none of your business!" she squealed in return trying to bypass him sternly.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, roughly inhaling the smell of her hair, "I think it's my business when some bastard finds himself all over my girlfriend."
"I'm not you girlfriend, Gerald," she said frustratingly, "Your girlfriend is Pamela Anderson over there. You go and help her out a little, okay? Cause she just asked me where the bathroom was."
"Pamela Anderson? Let's talk about that Josh Hartnett of yours."
"Gerald," she sighed, "This conversation is pointless, please, leave."
"What? You think Josh is gonna give you something I can't?"
"He will give me something you cannot."
"What is that?" he screamed angrily, "Looks? Money? Darling, I've got it all."
"He'll give me faith!" she ejaculated, "Looks and money are just side benefits. Looks and money are not enough for me."
"I love you!" he exclaimed. She sighed, not surprised by his words, "That's not enough for me either."
They stood in silence, draining the sight of one another as their faces merged into a blurry carnation against moonlight.
"Phoebe?" a male voice spoke and Gerald turned to see his conquest's escort.
"Yes, Lorenzo," she said demurely, her tone driving Gerald insane.
"Well, hello there," he said to Gerald, "Friend of yours?" continued to Phoebe.
"Lorenzo, this is Gerald, Gerald, this is Lorenzo," she said coldly, "Can you wait for me outside? I'll be there in a minute."
"Yes," he said, "nice meeting you, man."
Gerald nodded and watched Lorenzo walk away.
"Gerald, I'm fine, don't you worry about that," she said as soon as her boyfriend disappeared, "you just take of yourself, okay?"
"You're going home with this lunatic?" Gerald's tone was full of jealousy, as his blood boiled and warmed his heart.
"That doesn't concern you, Gerald, not anymore."
She began walking away.
"Phoebe!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her.
She stopped and turned his way, "What, Gerald? What?"
He did not know what to say. He rotated one hundred eighty degrees and looked onto the far depths of the city, the lights and the romances.
"Go to your date," she said softly, "I'm going home."
He turned his head and watched her walk, as her back moved farther and farther from his. No, he couldn't let her go. She was the only good thing in his life, the only clean thing, the only pure thing, the only thing that could cure him, the only thing that could send him to heaven someday. And then he realized that she was not a thing. She was a person, with feelings and concerns and her life was not made only to signify something in his. She could move on, she could forget him, she could fall in love again, with someone else. She could fall in love with someone better, someone who would not make the same mistake he did. Life would go on, while he silently crumbled inside of his own self, as his body would cave in, into the dark depths of his soul. No, he couldn't let her go, he had to stop her.
"Phoebe!" he turned and exclaimed into the distance, but by now she was already gone.
Suddenly, Gerald felt depraved, and he needed to speak with someone who had the talent of reassurance. Arnold had to account for that someone. After all, even though his friend did not have the reputation of sensitivity, Gerald knew that deep within he possessed the talent of looking at the bright side of things and finding seemingly ridiculous but plausible solutions.
Unfortunately, Arnold was nowhere in sight. Within a short distance, Gerald saw Lila. She stood alone, in a weak condition, looking dazed and confused.
"Lila," he approached.
"Yes?" she replied, stunned by his presence.
"Have you seen Arnold?"
"Not since the beginning, no. I think I saw him talking to Helga once, though."
"Helga?" Gerald questioned, "Why would he be talking to her?"
"The mind of a man works in mysterious ways."
"What makes you say that?" Gerald said, struck by her tone, so very un-Lila- ish.
"Look at my husband," she said, pointing to Jonathan who happened to be conversing, at the precise moment, with Gerald's date.
"What about your husband?"
"See that blonde he's talking to? He hates it ever so much when I talk to men, even Arnold he's jealous of. Meanwhile, he can easily, openly, flirt with a Pamela Anderson look alike in my very presence. Why are men such hypocrites."
Gerald chuckled for a moment, "Lila, men aren't hypocrites, men are just stupid, and come on, with boobs like that (forgive my slang) any old bastard can go blind. That prevents them from seeing what they have already. He happens to have you, and he's really lucky."
"Really?" she smiled.
"Yes," Gerald replied, "because you are a very beautiful woman."
Lila raised one eyebrow, "You think I'm beautiful?"
"In a very platonic, non-sexual way: yes. I think you're extraordinarily beautiful."
"Well, Gerald," she winked, "I can see us forming 'a very beautiful friendship.'"
They grinned at one another, and Gerald called for a waiter to bring up some champagne.
After a ten-minute ride involving Helga leaning against Arnold's shoulder in a disruptive fashion, the pair, at last, arrived at Arnold's loft. She stumbled in and her eyes lit up. Drunk Helga felt like a child in a candy store as she surveyed his elegant habitation. Of course, Arnold did not design it himself. She could tell immediately. Men did not have such feminine taste. But, of course, his apartment was that way for a reason. Environment was a major turn on for a woman, and the lighting in the penthouse was just right.
Arnold studied her as she wandered through his rooms, as she ran her fingers along his finely crafted furniture. She attempted to display distaste, but could not succeed under his gaze. She then sat next to his artificial fireplace and tucked her legs under her bottom. Arnold walked towards her, not knowing what to do next.
"So," he said, "we're at my 'house,' now what?"
She thought for a moment, "Do you have any food?"
"What?"
"Food. The kind you put in your mouth and chew."
"You're hungry? At eleven o'clock in the evening, you're hungry?"
She thought for another moment, "Yes."
"Well," he smiled, "now that you say it, I can go for something myself."
"Great!" She smiled, "what do you have?"
"I have-" he paused, "I'll go check. Do you need anything else besides food?"
"Water," She sighed.
"Yeah, I figured."
He began walking toward the kitchen.
"Hey Arnold!" she suddenly said.
He stopped and faced her.
"What, Helga?"
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Go ahead."
"I think I had too much to drink. I think I'm drunk," she began giggling, "as a matter of fact, I've been drinking a lot lately. Hello, my name is Helga and I'm an alcoholic."
This was followed by yet another wild fit of laughter.
Arnold sighed and continued to the kitchen. Once in it, he felt a sudden beast arise within, and he pounded at the refrigerator door to confine it. What was happening? What was Helga doing to him? No, he could not sleep with her tonight. It was too dangerous, too wrong. Suddenly, he felt weak, and nausea overtook Arnold once he remembered that the hearing regarding the lawsuit would come the following week. What would happen if Helga were put in jail? He had to settle it, he had to conspire a settlement, he had to-
What was he thinking? This was Helga, his enemy Helga, the daughter of the man who had destroyed his way of life. He could not allow his fascination with her to overtake it. He knew what she was after, even as she sat drunk in the living room. She came off as seeking sympathy, but what she really wanted was to enrapture him, to steal his heart and use it as a voodoo doll. He wasn't going to let her get away with it. He knew of Helga's past, he knew how she had become who she was. Helga G Pataki was not the good girl. Although she had not had sex in years, he could tell, she was the prime whore of the tri state area when her little business was only emerging. It would have been just ruthless enough for this woman to capture him in her endless soul. She was not going to get away with it. Damn it, he wasn't going to let her. He WAS going to have sex with her tonight just to prove to himself that he had not changed, just to prove that he did not love her. He poured himself a glass of brandy, and after quickly disposing of it down the drain of his throat, Arnold poured a glass of water for Helga and proceeded to examine his kitchen.
Arnold came out of the kitchen with a tall glass of sparkling water, ready to inform her that all he had in the kitchen was a week's old Chinese take- out. When he saw her, stretched out on the Oriental rug, ready to fall asleep, he figured there was no longer need in telling her.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she mumbled under her breath as he approached.
"I can see that," he said and put the glass of water to her lips, she slowly took it in and swallowed.
"I want to sleep," she announced, half dead, with her eyes closed and her body flailing.
Arnold helped her get up, wrapping the long thin arms around his neck, and walked her to the guestroom. Once there, he quickly plopped her into a soft chair and proceeded to take the cover off the bed, revealing fresh silk bedsheets. He never entertained company, but had the room in good condition anyway, simply because it was part of his glorious apartment.
After he was done, he walked over to the meditating Helga and once again prompted her up and toward the bed. He sat her onto it and studied her slumbering face. All hope of entertainment that he had for this night disappeared at the mere sight of her eyes, a drooping gaze into nothingness. He attempted to lay her down when suddenly she protested.
"No," she cried, don't wrinkle my dress. He looked over her, talking in her sleep. Or was she? Perhaps she was more awake than ever. He preferred to comply with her requests.
His hands went over her shoulders, as he slowly pulled down the straps, his fingers running along the edge of her smooth skin. The pink silk boldly cascaded down her cleavage line, revealing porcelain skin, a round, supple fruit of Satan hidden by beige, virginal lingerie. As he slid it further down, traveling with his avid paws along the gentle imprints of her body, he exposed her smooth belly. Helga closed her eyes, enjoying his touch upon her, quivering slightly. Meanwhile, Arnold continued sliding down her dress, over the matching silk panties, down the gentle curves of her thighs, against her tender knees, and over her thin ankles. Before long, Helga lay in her undergarments on the guest bed. Arnold quickly pulled the soft cover over he exposed body and looked with a strange sort of admiration onto her simple face.
After placing the dress gently onto the chair, Arnold came back to Helga's side.
"I'm going to go now," he said, "get some sleep."
As he was getting up, she suddenly whispered, "Hey Arnold."
He looked at her, "Yes, Helga?"
Her eyes opened and she looked him in the eyes with a calm _expression on her face.
"Can I tell you another secret?"
"Go ahead," he replied heavily.
"I love you," she said and closed he eyes, immediately falling asleep.
The party of cold-blooded rich souls that populated the city raged on for long after the disappearance of Arnold and Helga. No one noticed their departure, for all were too consumed by their own lives unfolding to notice the great dealings of another's. It was interesting from a spectator's perception to encounter these boundaries, to experience them, and to reflect. It was less taxing to learn from the mistakes of others, than through those of your own. But, of course, the lesson is better learned in person, and not through the countless whispers one encounters along the long isles of this stage we like to call Life.
Lila was obsessing over what Arnold had said. She knew that, of course, he did not mean bad by it. Arnold was not capable of malice. But, of course, she could not help being reminded of her problems. She had, as a close friend, informed him of her infertility. The perfect couple, in the headlines, in the tabloids, but only a few heads knew the truth regarding their childlessness. Many had always wondered why two people who loved one another as much as Lila and Jonathan did had not conceived a baby. The questions were never answered. Only the good was shown to public. Lila did not want to receive the sympathies a typical barren couple encountered.
"Oh, that poor girl. She's so pretty too. Horrid fate gets the best of them."
"Jon had always wanted to be a dad. I guess you never can tell, can you?"
"Lila would have made a good mother."
"I saw him the other day, he seems to be holding up well, considering the disappointment he had to face."
"Imagine not hearing the little footsteps against the floor. Nobody deserves that."
"Let's go play some football in the park. Take your mind off this thing, eh?"
"Darling, would you like to look after my son today? I have to run out for an appointment with my plastic surgeon."
"How you holding up, man? You know, I was doing research for this article last night and I accidentally stumbled over this-"
"Maybe you should seek marriage counseling."
"-anyway the article said that-"
"Lila, you know there's more to life than that. I mean, think, at least you won't ever have to find a homemade bong in the kitchen. Oh just a little joke, get it?"
"-maybe you should get a dog."
Gerald could not believe his eyes. One moment she was alone, and the next, Phoebe was holding onto the tuxedo of tall, masculine, dark eyed persona, smiling widely, and portraying what a good first date must have looked like from the side.
He did not want to see it, he tried to dissuade himself of the impending possibility that the one he had betrayed could live on and not perish, not dry up. He did not dare to think about it. Unfortunately, now he had no choice.
His eyes studied her as she whispered something into his ear, those cherry lips of hers that belonged only against HIS mouth and not the lobe of another. He watched the man part from her with a solid reluctance, and he watched Phoebe smile pleasurably as she checked her watch and walked toward the window to the balcony. Without any consideration of what he would do proceeding the movement, Gerald ran in her direction. He had to make her see him, he had to. He had to remind the woman he loved that he still existed.
"Phoebe!" Gerald exclaimed forcefully as he followed her onto the terrace and cornered the frame as to not let her slip away.
"What do you want now?" she asked, studying him angrily.
"Who was that I just saw you with?"
"That is none of your business!" she squealed in return trying to bypass him sternly.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, roughly inhaling the smell of her hair, "I think it's my business when some bastard finds himself all over my girlfriend."
"I'm not you girlfriend, Gerald," she said frustratingly, "Your girlfriend is Pamela Anderson over there. You go and help her out a little, okay? Cause she just asked me where the bathroom was."
"Pamela Anderson? Let's talk about that Josh Hartnett of yours."
"Gerald," she sighed, "This conversation is pointless, please, leave."
"What? You think Josh is gonna give you something I can't?"
"He will give me something you cannot."
"What is that?" he screamed angrily, "Looks? Money? Darling, I've got it all."
"He'll give me faith!" she ejaculated, "Looks and money are just side benefits. Looks and money are not enough for me."
"I love you!" he exclaimed. She sighed, not surprised by his words, "That's not enough for me either."
They stood in silence, draining the sight of one another as their faces merged into a blurry carnation against moonlight.
"Phoebe?" a male voice spoke and Gerald turned to see his conquest's escort.
"Yes, Lorenzo," she said demurely, her tone driving Gerald insane.
"Well, hello there," he said to Gerald, "Friend of yours?" continued to Phoebe.
"Lorenzo, this is Gerald, Gerald, this is Lorenzo," she said coldly, "Can you wait for me outside? I'll be there in a minute."
"Yes," he said, "nice meeting you, man."
Gerald nodded and watched Lorenzo walk away.
"Gerald, I'm fine, don't you worry about that," she said as soon as her boyfriend disappeared, "you just take of yourself, okay?"
"You're going home with this lunatic?" Gerald's tone was full of jealousy, as his blood boiled and warmed his heart.
"That doesn't concern you, Gerald, not anymore."
She began walking away.
"Phoebe!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her.
She stopped and turned his way, "What, Gerald? What?"
He did not know what to say. He rotated one hundred eighty degrees and looked onto the far depths of the city, the lights and the romances.
"Go to your date," she said softly, "I'm going home."
He turned his head and watched her walk, as her back moved farther and farther from his. No, he couldn't let her go. She was the only good thing in his life, the only clean thing, the only pure thing, the only thing that could cure him, the only thing that could send him to heaven someday. And then he realized that she was not a thing. She was a person, with feelings and concerns and her life was not made only to signify something in his. She could move on, she could forget him, she could fall in love again, with someone else. She could fall in love with someone better, someone who would not make the same mistake he did. Life would go on, while he silently crumbled inside of his own self, as his body would cave in, into the dark depths of his soul. No, he couldn't let her go, he had to stop her.
"Phoebe!" he turned and exclaimed into the distance, but by now she was already gone.
Suddenly, Gerald felt depraved, and he needed to speak with someone who had the talent of reassurance. Arnold had to account for that someone. After all, even though his friend did not have the reputation of sensitivity, Gerald knew that deep within he possessed the talent of looking at the bright side of things and finding seemingly ridiculous but plausible solutions.
Unfortunately, Arnold was nowhere in sight. Within a short distance, Gerald saw Lila. She stood alone, in a weak condition, looking dazed and confused.
"Lila," he approached.
"Yes?" she replied, stunned by his presence.
"Have you seen Arnold?"
"Not since the beginning, no. I think I saw him talking to Helga once, though."
"Helga?" Gerald questioned, "Why would he be talking to her?"
"The mind of a man works in mysterious ways."
"What makes you say that?" Gerald said, struck by her tone, so very un-Lila- ish.
"Look at my husband," she said, pointing to Jonathan who happened to be conversing, at the precise moment, with Gerald's date.
"What about your husband?"
"See that blonde he's talking to? He hates it ever so much when I talk to men, even Arnold he's jealous of. Meanwhile, he can easily, openly, flirt with a Pamela Anderson look alike in my very presence. Why are men such hypocrites."
Gerald chuckled for a moment, "Lila, men aren't hypocrites, men are just stupid, and come on, with boobs like that (forgive my slang) any old bastard can go blind. That prevents them from seeing what they have already. He happens to have you, and he's really lucky."
"Really?" she smiled.
"Yes," Gerald replied, "because you are a very beautiful woman."
Lila raised one eyebrow, "You think I'm beautiful?"
"In a very platonic, non-sexual way: yes. I think you're extraordinarily beautiful."
"Well, Gerald," she winked, "I can see us forming 'a very beautiful friendship.'"
They grinned at one another, and Gerald called for a waiter to bring up some champagne.
After a ten-minute ride involving Helga leaning against Arnold's shoulder in a disruptive fashion, the pair, at last, arrived at Arnold's loft. She stumbled in and her eyes lit up. Drunk Helga felt like a child in a candy store as she surveyed his elegant habitation. Of course, Arnold did not design it himself. She could tell immediately. Men did not have such feminine taste. But, of course, his apartment was that way for a reason. Environment was a major turn on for a woman, and the lighting in the penthouse was just right.
Arnold studied her as she wandered through his rooms, as she ran her fingers along his finely crafted furniture. She attempted to display distaste, but could not succeed under his gaze. She then sat next to his artificial fireplace and tucked her legs under her bottom. Arnold walked towards her, not knowing what to do next.
"So," he said, "we're at my 'house,' now what?"
She thought for a moment, "Do you have any food?"
"What?"
"Food. The kind you put in your mouth and chew."
"You're hungry? At eleven o'clock in the evening, you're hungry?"
She thought for another moment, "Yes."
"Well," he smiled, "now that you say it, I can go for something myself."
"Great!" She smiled, "what do you have?"
"I have-" he paused, "I'll go check. Do you need anything else besides food?"
"Water," She sighed.
"Yeah, I figured."
He began walking toward the kitchen.
"Hey Arnold!" she suddenly said.
He stopped and faced her.
"What, Helga?"
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Go ahead."
"I think I had too much to drink. I think I'm drunk," she began giggling, "as a matter of fact, I've been drinking a lot lately. Hello, my name is Helga and I'm an alcoholic."
This was followed by yet another wild fit of laughter.
Arnold sighed and continued to the kitchen. Once in it, he felt a sudden beast arise within, and he pounded at the refrigerator door to confine it. What was happening? What was Helga doing to him? No, he could not sleep with her tonight. It was too dangerous, too wrong. Suddenly, he felt weak, and nausea overtook Arnold once he remembered that the hearing regarding the lawsuit would come the following week. What would happen if Helga were put in jail? He had to settle it, he had to conspire a settlement, he had to-
What was he thinking? This was Helga, his enemy Helga, the daughter of the man who had destroyed his way of life. He could not allow his fascination with her to overtake it. He knew what she was after, even as she sat drunk in the living room. She came off as seeking sympathy, but what she really wanted was to enrapture him, to steal his heart and use it as a voodoo doll. He wasn't going to let her get away with it. He knew of Helga's past, he knew how she had become who she was. Helga G Pataki was not the good girl. Although she had not had sex in years, he could tell, she was the prime whore of the tri state area when her little business was only emerging. It would have been just ruthless enough for this woman to capture him in her endless soul. She was not going to get away with it. Damn it, he wasn't going to let her. He WAS going to have sex with her tonight just to prove to himself that he had not changed, just to prove that he did not love her. He poured himself a glass of brandy, and after quickly disposing of it down the drain of his throat, Arnold poured a glass of water for Helga and proceeded to examine his kitchen.
Arnold came out of the kitchen with a tall glass of sparkling water, ready to inform her that all he had in the kitchen was a week's old Chinese take- out. When he saw her, stretched out on the Oriental rug, ready to fall asleep, he figured there was no longer need in telling her.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she mumbled under her breath as he approached.
"I can see that," he said and put the glass of water to her lips, she slowly took it in and swallowed.
"I want to sleep," she announced, half dead, with her eyes closed and her body flailing.
Arnold helped her get up, wrapping the long thin arms around his neck, and walked her to the guestroom. Once there, he quickly plopped her into a soft chair and proceeded to take the cover off the bed, revealing fresh silk bedsheets. He never entertained company, but had the room in good condition anyway, simply because it was part of his glorious apartment.
After he was done, he walked over to the meditating Helga and once again prompted her up and toward the bed. He sat her onto it and studied her slumbering face. All hope of entertainment that he had for this night disappeared at the mere sight of her eyes, a drooping gaze into nothingness. He attempted to lay her down when suddenly she protested.
"No," she cried, don't wrinkle my dress. He looked over her, talking in her sleep. Or was she? Perhaps she was more awake than ever. He preferred to comply with her requests.
His hands went over her shoulders, as he slowly pulled down the straps, his fingers running along the edge of her smooth skin. The pink silk boldly cascaded down her cleavage line, revealing porcelain skin, a round, supple fruit of Satan hidden by beige, virginal lingerie. As he slid it further down, traveling with his avid paws along the gentle imprints of her body, he exposed her smooth belly. Helga closed her eyes, enjoying his touch upon her, quivering slightly. Meanwhile, Arnold continued sliding down her dress, over the matching silk panties, down the gentle curves of her thighs, against her tender knees, and over her thin ankles. Before long, Helga lay in her undergarments on the guest bed. Arnold quickly pulled the soft cover over he exposed body and looked with a strange sort of admiration onto her simple face.
After placing the dress gently onto the chair, Arnold came back to Helga's side.
"I'm going to go now," he said, "get some sleep."
As he was getting up, she suddenly whispered, "Hey Arnold."
He looked at her, "Yes, Helga?"
Her eyes opened and she looked him in the eyes with a calm _expression on her face.
"Can I tell you another secret?"
"Go ahead," he replied heavily.
"I love you," she said and closed he eyes, immediately falling asleep.