Chapter 7
"Helga," Phoebe's tone shook.
"Phoebe."
"Helga."
"Phoebe."
"Helga."
"Okay, this is silly."
Silence overtook the other side of the line.
"Phoebe, I know that what I said that day must have been.---"
"Don't" Phoebe sighed, "I know very well that you hate apologizing. I don't want to break you. I'd hate myself eternally for that."
Helga listened to her friend's voice and, suddenly, her glee multiplied by thousands. Now, she was to have a husband and a companion. Life, compared to what it was yesterday, suddenly became good. It turned into a saga for the better and Helga, for the first time in her existence, felt optimistic about what was to come.
"I hate the fact that we aren't talking," Helga said, her voice intensifying, "Because you're like a sister to me."
"A weak, masochistic sister," Phoebe said wistfully, "You were right about Gerald, and you were right about me."
Helga sighed, "Phoebe, you were just as right about me. It was wrong to do what I had done, my life's very achievements were not wholesome because I did not work for them. Only bona fide people earn any respect, any credit, for their work. I was causing people harm and I was proud of it. I was nothing short of a Sadist."
"You were strong, Helga!" Phoebe exclaimed in a reassuring way, "You loved yourself and you provided for yourself. I wish I could be more like you."
"A sadist," Helga mused, "is a masochist who treats other people the way they treat themselves."
On the other side of town, Phoebe sat at her desk in the office, facing toward the window and looking through it with eagerness and comprehension. She felt gratified that, at last, she and her best friend were communicating. At last, she put her worries with Gerald behind her. Phoebe could not believe how free she felt now. It was absolutely unsurpassed of a feeling. For this, she was thankful to her truest of all companions.
"Helga, don't say that. You know it's not true."
She smiled, "not anymore. Phoebes, the reason I am calling is to tell you that I am getting married!"
Phoebe's face froze and she dropped the cup of coffee she had been drinking onto the floor. The woman then proceeded to rise quickly from the chair and scurry toward the center of the room, only to make sure she was still breathing, and hell had not, in fact, frozen over.
"Married?" she asked weakly, "but to whom?"
"To a person whom I have loved since before I can remember."
"Can you be a little bit more specific? Is he someone from New York? Because you didn't tell me you were dating."
"No," Helga sighed, "it's no one from New York."
"Is he from here, then?"
"He is."
"Then you must have just met him," Phoebe protested. "You've only been here a week, and we haven't spoken only for a few days. Can you really be ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you've known for forty eight hours?"
"Oh, Phoebe, I've known him for forty eight million hours!"
"Then tell me who it is, already!"
"It's Arnold."
Hell did not freeze over. Global warming occurred, led by the devil in the flesh.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Phoebe screamed in a savage tone, "Are you crazy?"
"I knew you were going to respond like this."
"How else am I to respond? This is the way any normal person responds when their best friend tells them that she is marrying a guy who fucked and dumped the entire female population of the city. Helga, you're crazy. I know what you must be thinking, but you're crazy."
Helga sighed, "He proposed to me."
"Helga, he wants to fuck you, not marry you."
"He already fucked me, Phoebe."
What was his plan, then? Phoebe knew Arnold, and this was enough evidence to suffice for the fact that he wasn't getting hitched for the fun of it. What was his plan? What was he scheming? What sick form of revenge was he trying to take on her now?
"I know you must think I'm being hypocritical after what happened with Gerald," Phoebe said, "But I want to tell you that you were right about him. And when I saw him on a date with a blonde in the same restaurant where he had just begged for my forgiveness, I was hurt beyond all comprehension. Helga, you always learn the hard way, you always learn through your mistakes. Please, just this once make an exception and learn from the mistakes of someone else."
Helga did not know what to say. Her prelude with Arnold seemed too good to be true, and now, she was faced with the eternal promise of unconditional bliss and common sense. She did not know which she would choose, and this struck her as horror and anguish.
After a moment of silence, Phoebe regained, "did he say anything else? Did he just come and propose?"
"He came and--- well, he came. And then he said that he loved me and that he wanted to marry me after we settled."
"Settled?" Phoebe asked suspiciously.
"He wants to settle out of court, he doesn't want me to face---anyway, he gave me the papers before he left. I intend on signing them."
"As your attorney, I demand that you show me the said papers before you sign anything. Otherwise, I will not cooperate."
"Phoebe," Helga sighed, "I hate to say this to you, but let it come off on a professional level that my decision does not require your expertise, and the settlement is not designed for your input."
The old Helga, the diplomatic and cold, was beginning to emerge. The problem was that she was emerging on the wrong person. Phoebe was not the enemy. Inwardly, Helga knew this, but her heart refused to believe what her mind screamed relentlessly from the distance.
"Helga, as a friend, please allow me to look at the papers before you sign them."
She tried to protest but Phoebe interrupted her.
"If what Arnold is doing he is doing out of good faith, then I will believe you unconditionally, seal the deal with my highest approval, and act as your bridesmaid at the wedding. Helga, just let me check this out before you take any drastic steps. What is there to lose?"
Helga sighed. She knew that to lose there was a great deal. At stake were her dreams, and Phoebe's cool rationale was diminishing Helga's deepest, most earnest fantasies. But she had a strong will power, and she was mistaken in Arnold once.
"Let's meet for a late breakfast tomorrow," Helga said, "How about--- eleven?"
"I'll be there."
Lila studied Gerald's face, as they lay side by side on the bed in the nude, drinking in the sight of one another. She had plunged into a state she never before envisioned herself entering. She was cheating on her boyfriend, but then again, he was probably cheating on her. Gerald could not believe what he had done. For the first time in a long time, he did not think at all about Phoebe. She dwindled out of his heart as easily as she had dwindled in, and all this was due, he thought, to Lila. She was so beautiful, as she lay there, her soft, pale skin blushing, her hair rubbing against his arm. His muscles flexed at the thought of her lips, as they touched his with a clash and then harmonious reconciliation. She was everything a woman needed to be, beautiful, gentle, kind, and mysterious, with that bit of crazy wickedness, barely noticeable, but once unleashed, completely unrestrained, that every man loves about a woman. Lila was graceful, soft, feminine, almost as beautiful as Phoebe. Maybe she was exactly as beautiful as Phoebe, in her own unique way. But Gerald knew that even if she did not have the angelic face, he would feel the same longing for her that he felt at this very moment. All the while, he knew how wrong what he was doing was.
Lila was betraying her husband. Gerald was betraying his best friend.
But to hell with all of that! He knew that Lila was his second and last great love* and he was not willing to give it up. He had as much right for happiness as Arnold. Guilt rushed against Gerald with horrific malice, but he was not willing to give in.
"We just did a very bad thing," Lila whispered, her soft breath touching his skin, "a very bad thing, a very wrong thing."
Gerald sighed, "so wrong that it felt so right."
"My husband would kill you if he found out."
"I know how to defend myself against your husband, it's not him I'm worried about."
Lila smiled, studying his eyes, "Who are you talking about?"
Gerald contemplated on whether or not telling her would help the situation or hinder it, "I'm worried about Arnold."
Lila's smile vanished and concern overtook her face, "I think I knew you were going to say that."
Gerald stood up and walked to the window. Lila studied his silhouette against the current of impending light, which surged through the transparent glass.
"He love you, Lila."
She sighed and lay back, "I know, and that's a problem."
Gerald turned with awe in his eyes, "That's a problem? Is that all you can say about the subject? Just that it's a problem?"
She closed her eyes with concern, "I'm ever so sorry that I didn't make myself clear."
"Well clear it up a little!"
Lila sat up and wrapped her body in the bedsheet, "Arnold was not the first man to love me, but he is the first man that I love the way that I do. I always knew he had felt something for me, but I could not control what I felt. My heart was incapable of feeling anything but friendship toward him."
"You were cruel to lead him on!"
"I never led him on, Gerald! I was open with him and I provided myself in all entirety to listen when he needed someone there. I was there for him, Gerald, I played the part of the listener. I played the part of the wife, who was missing from Arnold's life, but that didn't mean I was planning to become it."
"You never considered him at all, you never took a look into it, you never-- -tried to love him."
"If I had tried to love him," Lila cried, "It wouldn't have been real. You refuse to believe the universal concept that a person can't just make their heart do something so things would be easier. Don't you understand?"
"I cannot understand, I will not understand."
Lila's eyes became watery, "I love Arnold very deeply, but not in the sense that I love you. I love Arnold like a brother, and I know that that hurts him a great deal, and whenever I hurt him, I feel three times the pain that he feels. It breaks my heart Gerald, but simultaneously I refuse to adjust my life for his sake. I have to think about my own happiness, and at first, John made me happy. But then I met you, and this is going too fast, but I am ready to divorce my husband and bind myself eternally to you."
She jumped out of bed and ran his way, wrapping her frail arms around him and kissing him softly on the lips, "Understand, Gerald, understand, that I choose you over Arnold, and I have no obligation to fulfill. Neither have you. So choose, choose between me and him. I'm not the one making you choose, but he will be. I have already chosen, I have chosen you. Now, all I need is your decision."
Gerald could not restrain himself, he took her chin and pressed his lips tightly onto hers, thus, making his decision and handing it into Lila's trembling hands.
Phoebe studied the papers, amazed at how patronizing Arnold was. The man was insulting Helga's intelligence and she was happily consumed, letting him get away with it. The proposal was absolutely preposterous. No man or woman in their right mind would sign what he had sloppily typed onto paper. Helga was insane to even consider it.
"You realize what he is asking for here, right?" she asked cynically and sipped her black coffee.
"Phoebe, I know this may seem a little crazy---"
"A little? He's basically saying hand over your company to my firm so we can sell it off and make the profit that you will immediately lose."
Helga sighed, "Phoebe, what do I need profit for? Think about it, once I marry him, I'll be the happy housewife and all of the matters about my past will be resolved."
"Helga, are you even sure he's willing to marry you? A man like Arnold is very capable of leading you on."
"He's not leading me on," Helga said with determination, "I saw it in his eyes."
"What did you see in his eyes?"
"Truth."
Phoebe looked at her friend sympathetically, "You never had to deal with these issues before in your life, I guess. You never got to figure out men, never got to choose between work and play. But let me tell you, in this situation, you had damn better choose work."
"What? You want me to go to court and get sent to jail? Is that what you want?"
Phoebe smiled, "Helga, you're not going to jail and you know it. You're the leader of a multibillion-dollar corporation. They have already designated some poor bastard to take the fall. The worst that could possibly happen is you serving five months in a white collar sanitarium. And when you come out, your 'baby' is still going to be there, and it is still going to belong to you."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your decisions," Phoebe said coldly, "How are they influenced, Helga? What drives them? The fear of going to jail isn't it. Then, do you honestly believe that he is serious when he talks of marriage? He knows as well as I do that you will not be sent to jail, and the worst damage this case that he had spent so long on preparing could do to you is put you in a couple of easy debts and kill off a couple monster clients. He knows that he's no match against you, and he's playing dirty. He's trying to get you to sign his phony settlement by flattering you. He's exploiting the fact that you're a woman. Don't let him, Helga, please! Just don't let him! Do it for yourself, do it for your family, for your honor, for your gender!"
Helga was shook up, angered, confused, frustrated by the seeming truth coming out of Phoebe's mouth. But she was unwilling to believe, she would far rather lose herself in his unfaithful essence than find herself in the asperity of reality. What did she care of herself, of her family, of her honor, of her gender, when her heart beat so fast that she feared it might explode?
"I love him, Phoebe!" Helga cried, "And I cannot help feeling that way. He is the reason I eat, the reason I drink, the reason I breathe! He is my only reason, Phoebe, and if keeping him with me forever, if having his heart for an eternity requires only that I sign my name on a little dotted line, then the hell with it." She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. Then, sloppily, uncertainly, she scribbled her signature onto the paper and Arnold's formal revenge was completed.
Phoebe sat back and studied her hysterical friend solemnly. She knew that once Helga had made up her mind, nothing could change it. Nothing.
"I hope he feels the same way about you as you feel about him," she finally said and smiled, "If he does, I greatly anticipate the wedding."
The two long time friends exchanged good-natured grins, validating the eternal bond between them.
"So, what will you be drinking today in the name of Arnold?" Phoebe joked.
"How about Champagne?"
"In the morning?"
"What can I say?" Helga smiled, "I like to live on the edge."
"Has this ever happened to you before?" Natasha asked, her face distorted.
Natasha was a young, Russian beauty who had just immigrated to the United States and was in search of new adventures. She had never expected that her first job as a cleaning lady would turn into such an exciting plot. Arnold knew that he could not allow Helga overtake him, and the best way to deal with impending emotion was to have unattached, unrestrained sex. This he found in his new and interesting prospect Natasha, whose accent penetrated his deepest notes, but nevertheless, rose to no avail. The climax was dull. Arnold could not get it up.
"Is that an appropriate question?" he asked bitterly, sinking into the pillow, "I don't think you have the right to ask me that."
"Come down," she said, "I did not want to hurt your feelings."
"You didn't hurt my feelings, what makes you think you hurt my feelings?"
"You're acting---" she groped for words, "not usual."
"How do you know how I usually act?"
"I heard from other girls."
"What girls are those?" he asked bitterly.
"The girls I job with," she said naively, "they say you're the king of 'one night stands,' a real prostitute."
Arnold looked up, alarmed, "prostitute?"
"Slut is the word," she said in her horrible English, "they refer to you as The Slut. They send every new girl to you, she has to have a story to get accepted into the group. It's a little bit funny. Boy, do I have a story to tell."
Arnold could not believe what she was saying, "You wanted to have sex with me because of your little cleaning sorority or whatever?"
"Well, yes!" She giggled, "you didn't think me or any girl did it because of your stupid stories, did you?"
"But wait a second---"
"You big bad macho man," she giggled, her accent began to upset him, "you think you can disrespect women and they will respect you. It's not true. Women show as much respect for men as men show for woman. You don't respect women, women will not respect you."
She began to dress while Arnold groped for words to no avail.
"So, why did you go soft?" she suddenly asked, "what happened? Is it impotence?"
"Of course not!" Arnold exclaimed in indignation.
"Then it must be another girl. It's always one of two things."
"What about stress at work?" "Not working, Lola said you love work."
"How about me just not being attracted enough to you?"
Natasha giggled, "I'm gorgeous, that's not the problem. It's another girl. The slut is in love."
The Slut, indeed, was in love. He was in love with Lila, but, nonetheless, this never happened before.
"It's okay," Natasha smiled warmly, "I won't tell anyone."
She walked out of the room and, in the nude, Arnold followed her toward the door. He had to redeem himself.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, "I think I can do it now."
She snickered softly, "It was good meeting you, Arnold. If you can do it, I suggest you do it to that girl."
She opened the door and encountered Helga, dressed in a pink cocktail dress, with a with a large purse in one hand, while the other was reaching for the doorbell.
"And here she is," Natasha smiled and walked away, leaving the pair alone, to settle their fates once and for all.
"Helga," Phoebe's tone shook.
"Phoebe."
"Helga."
"Phoebe."
"Helga."
"Okay, this is silly."
Silence overtook the other side of the line.
"Phoebe, I know that what I said that day must have been.---"
"Don't" Phoebe sighed, "I know very well that you hate apologizing. I don't want to break you. I'd hate myself eternally for that."
Helga listened to her friend's voice and, suddenly, her glee multiplied by thousands. Now, she was to have a husband and a companion. Life, compared to what it was yesterday, suddenly became good. It turned into a saga for the better and Helga, for the first time in her existence, felt optimistic about what was to come.
"I hate the fact that we aren't talking," Helga said, her voice intensifying, "Because you're like a sister to me."
"A weak, masochistic sister," Phoebe said wistfully, "You were right about Gerald, and you were right about me."
Helga sighed, "Phoebe, you were just as right about me. It was wrong to do what I had done, my life's very achievements were not wholesome because I did not work for them. Only bona fide people earn any respect, any credit, for their work. I was causing people harm and I was proud of it. I was nothing short of a Sadist."
"You were strong, Helga!" Phoebe exclaimed in a reassuring way, "You loved yourself and you provided for yourself. I wish I could be more like you."
"A sadist," Helga mused, "is a masochist who treats other people the way they treat themselves."
On the other side of town, Phoebe sat at her desk in the office, facing toward the window and looking through it with eagerness and comprehension. She felt gratified that, at last, she and her best friend were communicating. At last, she put her worries with Gerald behind her. Phoebe could not believe how free she felt now. It was absolutely unsurpassed of a feeling. For this, she was thankful to her truest of all companions.
"Helga, don't say that. You know it's not true."
She smiled, "not anymore. Phoebes, the reason I am calling is to tell you that I am getting married!"
Phoebe's face froze and she dropped the cup of coffee she had been drinking onto the floor. The woman then proceeded to rise quickly from the chair and scurry toward the center of the room, only to make sure she was still breathing, and hell had not, in fact, frozen over.
"Married?" she asked weakly, "but to whom?"
"To a person whom I have loved since before I can remember."
"Can you be a little bit more specific? Is he someone from New York? Because you didn't tell me you were dating."
"No," Helga sighed, "it's no one from New York."
"Is he from here, then?"
"He is."
"Then you must have just met him," Phoebe protested. "You've only been here a week, and we haven't spoken only for a few days. Can you really be ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you've known for forty eight hours?"
"Oh, Phoebe, I've known him for forty eight million hours!"
"Then tell me who it is, already!"
"It's Arnold."
Hell did not freeze over. Global warming occurred, led by the devil in the flesh.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Phoebe screamed in a savage tone, "Are you crazy?"
"I knew you were going to respond like this."
"How else am I to respond? This is the way any normal person responds when their best friend tells them that she is marrying a guy who fucked and dumped the entire female population of the city. Helga, you're crazy. I know what you must be thinking, but you're crazy."
Helga sighed, "He proposed to me."
"Helga, he wants to fuck you, not marry you."
"He already fucked me, Phoebe."
What was his plan, then? Phoebe knew Arnold, and this was enough evidence to suffice for the fact that he wasn't getting hitched for the fun of it. What was his plan? What was he scheming? What sick form of revenge was he trying to take on her now?
"I know you must think I'm being hypocritical after what happened with Gerald," Phoebe said, "But I want to tell you that you were right about him. And when I saw him on a date with a blonde in the same restaurant where he had just begged for my forgiveness, I was hurt beyond all comprehension. Helga, you always learn the hard way, you always learn through your mistakes. Please, just this once make an exception and learn from the mistakes of someone else."
Helga did not know what to say. Her prelude with Arnold seemed too good to be true, and now, she was faced with the eternal promise of unconditional bliss and common sense. She did not know which she would choose, and this struck her as horror and anguish.
After a moment of silence, Phoebe regained, "did he say anything else? Did he just come and propose?"
"He came and--- well, he came. And then he said that he loved me and that he wanted to marry me after we settled."
"Settled?" Phoebe asked suspiciously.
"He wants to settle out of court, he doesn't want me to face---anyway, he gave me the papers before he left. I intend on signing them."
"As your attorney, I demand that you show me the said papers before you sign anything. Otherwise, I will not cooperate."
"Phoebe," Helga sighed, "I hate to say this to you, but let it come off on a professional level that my decision does not require your expertise, and the settlement is not designed for your input."
The old Helga, the diplomatic and cold, was beginning to emerge. The problem was that she was emerging on the wrong person. Phoebe was not the enemy. Inwardly, Helga knew this, but her heart refused to believe what her mind screamed relentlessly from the distance.
"Helga, as a friend, please allow me to look at the papers before you sign them."
She tried to protest but Phoebe interrupted her.
"If what Arnold is doing he is doing out of good faith, then I will believe you unconditionally, seal the deal with my highest approval, and act as your bridesmaid at the wedding. Helga, just let me check this out before you take any drastic steps. What is there to lose?"
Helga sighed. She knew that to lose there was a great deal. At stake were her dreams, and Phoebe's cool rationale was diminishing Helga's deepest, most earnest fantasies. But she had a strong will power, and she was mistaken in Arnold once.
"Let's meet for a late breakfast tomorrow," Helga said, "How about--- eleven?"
"I'll be there."
Lila studied Gerald's face, as they lay side by side on the bed in the nude, drinking in the sight of one another. She had plunged into a state she never before envisioned herself entering. She was cheating on her boyfriend, but then again, he was probably cheating on her. Gerald could not believe what he had done. For the first time in a long time, he did not think at all about Phoebe. She dwindled out of his heart as easily as she had dwindled in, and all this was due, he thought, to Lila. She was so beautiful, as she lay there, her soft, pale skin blushing, her hair rubbing against his arm. His muscles flexed at the thought of her lips, as they touched his with a clash and then harmonious reconciliation. She was everything a woman needed to be, beautiful, gentle, kind, and mysterious, with that bit of crazy wickedness, barely noticeable, but once unleashed, completely unrestrained, that every man loves about a woman. Lila was graceful, soft, feminine, almost as beautiful as Phoebe. Maybe she was exactly as beautiful as Phoebe, in her own unique way. But Gerald knew that even if she did not have the angelic face, he would feel the same longing for her that he felt at this very moment. All the while, he knew how wrong what he was doing was.
Lila was betraying her husband. Gerald was betraying his best friend.
But to hell with all of that! He knew that Lila was his second and last great love* and he was not willing to give it up. He had as much right for happiness as Arnold. Guilt rushed against Gerald with horrific malice, but he was not willing to give in.
"We just did a very bad thing," Lila whispered, her soft breath touching his skin, "a very bad thing, a very wrong thing."
Gerald sighed, "so wrong that it felt so right."
"My husband would kill you if he found out."
"I know how to defend myself against your husband, it's not him I'm worried about."
Lila smiled, studying his eyes, "Who are you talking about?"
Gerald contemplated on whether or not telling her would help the situation or hinder it, "I'm worried about Arnold."
Lila's smile vanished and concern overtook her face, "I think I knew you were going to say that."
Gerald stood up and walked to the window. Lila studied his silhouette against the current of impending light, which surged through the transparent glass.
"He love you, Lila."
She sighed and lay back, "I know, and that's a problem."
Gerald turned with awe in his eyes, "That's a problem? Is that all you can say about the subject? Just that it's a problem?"
She closed her eyes with concern, "I'm ever so sorry that I didn't make myself clear."
"Well clear it up a little!"
Lila sat up and wrapped her body in the bedsheet, "Arnold was not the first man to love me, but he is the first man that I love the way that I do. I always knew he had felt something for me, but I could not control what I felt. My heart was incapable of feeling anything but friendship toward him."
"You were cruel to lead him on!"
"I never led him on, Gerald! I was open with him and I provided myself in all entirety to listen when he needed someone there. I was there for him, Gerald, I played the part of the listener. I played the part of the wife, who was missing from Arnold's life, but that didn't mean I was planning to become it."
"You never considered him at all, you never took a look into it, you never-- -tried to love him."
"If I had tried to love him," Lila cried, "It wouldn't have been real. You refuse to believe the universal concept that a person can't just make their heart do something so things would be easier. Don't you understand?"
"I cannot understand, I will not understand."
Lila's eyes became watery, "I love Arnold very deeply, but not in the sense that I love you. I love Arnold like a brother, and I know that that hurts him a great deal, and whenever I hurt him, I feel three times the pain that he feels. It breaks my heart Gerald, but simultaneously I refuse to adjust my life for his sake. I have to think about my own happiness, and at first, John made me happy. But then I met you, and this is going too fast, but I am ready to divorce my husband and bind myself eternally to you."
She jumped out of bed and ran his way, wrapping her frail arms around him and kissing him softly on the lips, "Understand, Gerald, understand, that I choose you over Arnold, and I have no obligation to fulfill. Neither have you. So choose, choose between me and him. I'm not the one making you choose, but he will be. I have already chosen, I have chosen you. Now, all I need is your decision."
Gerald could not restrain himself, he took her chin and pressed his lips tightly onto hers, thus, making his decision and handing it into Lila's trembling hands.
Phoebe studied the papers, amazed at how patronizing Arnold was. The man was insulting Helga's intelligence and she was happily consumed, letting him get away with it. The proposal was absolutely preposterous. No man or woman in their right mind would sign what he had sloppily typed onto paper. Helga was insane to even consider it.
"You realize what he is asking for here, right?" she asked cynically and sipped her black coffee.
"Phoebe, I know this may seem a little crazy---"
"A little? He's basically saying hand over your company to my firm so we can sell it off and make the profit that you will immediately lose."
Helga sighed, "Phoebe, what do I need profit for? Think about it, once I marry him, I'll be the happy housewife and all of the matters about my past will be resolved."
"Helga, are you even sure he's willing to marry you? A man like Arnold is very capable of leading you on."
"He's not leading me on," Helga said with determination, "I saw it in his eyes."
"What did you see in his eyes?"
"Truth."
Phoebe looked at her friend sympathetically, "You never had to deal with these issues before in your life, I guess. You never got to figure out men, never got to choose between work and play. But let me tell you, in this situation, you had damn better choose work."
"What? You want me to go to court and get sent to jail? Is that what you want?"
Phoebe smiled, "Helga, you're not going to jail and you know it. You're the leader of a multibillion-dollar corporation. They have already designated some poor bastard to take the fall. The worst that could possibly happen is you serving five months in a white collar sanitarium. And when you come out, your 'baby' is still going to be there, and it is still going to belong to you."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your decisions," Phoebe said coldly, "How are they influenced, Helga? What drives them? The fear of going to jail isn't it. Then, do you honestly believe that he is serious when he talks of marriage? He knows as well as I do that you will not be sent to jail, and the worst damage this case that he had spent so long on preparing could do to you is put you in a couple of easy debts and kill off a couple monster clients. He knows that he's no match against you, and he's playing dirty. He's trying to get you to sign his phony settlement by flattering you. He's exploiting the fact that you're a woman. Don't let him, Helga, please! Just don't let him! Do it for yourself, do it for your family, for your honor, for your gender!"
Helga was shook up, angered, confused, frustrated by the seeming truth coming out of Phoebe's mouth. But she was unwilling to believe, she would far rather lose herself in his unfaithful essence than find herself in the asperity of reality. What did she care of herself, of her family, of her honor, of her gender, when her heart beat so fast that she feared it might explode?
"I love him, Phoebe!" Helga cried, "And I cannot help feeling that way. He is the reason I eat, the reason I drink, the reason I breathe! He is my only reason, Phoebe, and if keeping him with me forever, if having his heart for an eternity requires only that I sign my name on a little dotted line, then the hell with it." She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. Then, sloppily, uncertainly, she scribbled her signature onto the paper and Arnold's formal revenge was completed.
Phoebe sat back and studied her hysterical friend solemnly. She knew that once Helga had made up her mind, nothing could change it. Nothing.
"I hope he feels the same way about you as you feel about him," she finally said and smiled, "If he does, I greatly anticipate the wedding."
The two long time friends exchanged good-natured grins, validating the eternal bond between them.
"So, what will you be drinking today in the name of Arnold?" Phoebe joked.
"How about Champagne?"
"In the morning?"
"What can I say?" Helga smiled, "I like to live on the edge."
"Has this ever happened to you before?" Natasha asked, her face distorted.
Natasha was a young, Russian beauty who had just immigrated to the United States and was in search of new adventures. She had never expected that her first job as a cleaning lady would turn into such an exciting plot. Arnold knew that he could not allow Helga overtake him, and the best way to deal with impending emotion was to have unattached, unrestrained sex. This he found in his new and interesting prospect Natasha, whose accent penetrated his deepest notes, but nevertheless, rose to no avail. The climax was dull. Arnold could not get it up.
"Is that an appropriate question?" he asked bitterly, sinking into the pillow, "I don't think you have the right to ask me that."
"Come down," she said, "I did not want to hurt your feelings."
"You didn't hurt my feelings, what makes you think you hurt my feelings?"
"You're acting---" she groped for words, "not usual."
"How do you know how I usually act?"
"I heard from other girls."
"What girls are those?" he asked bitterly.
"The girls I job with," she said naively, "they say you're the king of 'one night stands,' a real prostitute."
Arnold looked up, alarmed, "prostitute?"
"Slut is the word," she said in her horrible English, "they refer to you as The Slut. They send every new girl to you, she has to have a story to get accepted into the group. It's a little bit funny. Boy, do I have a story to tell."
Arnold could not believe what she was saying, "You wanted to have sex with me because of your little cleaning sorority or whatever?"
"Well, yes!" She giggled, "you didn't think me or any girl did it because of your stupid stories, did you?"
"But wait a second---"
"You big bad macho man," she giggled, her accent began to upset him, "you think you can disrespect women and they will respect you. It's not true. Women show as much respect for men as men show for woman. You don't respect women, women will not respect you."
She began to dress while Arnold groped for words to no avail.
"So, why did you go soft?" she suddenly asked, "what happened? Is it impotence?"
"Of course not!" Arnold exclaimed in indignation.
"Then it must be another girl. It's always one of two things."
"What about stress at work?" "Not working, Lola said you love work."
"How about me just not being attracted enough to you?"
Natasha giggled, "I'm gorgeous, that's not the problem. It's another girl. The slut is in love."
The Slut, indeed, was in love. He was in love with Lila, but, nonetheless, this never happened before.
"It's okay," Natasha smiled warmly, "I won't tell anyone."
She walked out of the room and, in the nude, Arnold followed her toward the door. He had to redeem himself.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, "I think I can do it now."
She snickered softly, "It was good meeting you, Arnold. If you can do it, I suggest you do it to that girl."
She opened the door and encountered Helga, dressed in a pink cocktail dress, with a with a large purse in one hand, while the other was reaching for the doorbell.
"And here she is," Natasha smiled and walked away, leaving the pair alone, to settle their fates once and for all.