My god, I'm sorry that this took so long for me to update, but I haven't had time to write this as well as I'd like it!!! So I offer a formal apology to everyone who reads this fic, and enough with my blither. Read on!
Love forever and ever:
pottergal
PS. I don't own Hey Arnold! Blah.
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A Rainy December
Chapter Seven: Masks Peeled Away
By: pottergal
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Arnold sat in the kitchen of the darkened boarding house, surrounded by softly lit candles and one bright kerosene lantern. In the interests of getting the most light possible from it, he'd placed it atop the refrigerator, where it shone cheerily onto an otherwise gloomy room. It was storm outside was truly doing its worst, the rain lashing angrily against the windows, and the wind howling as it whipped around the house. Occasionally, a crack of lightning with a boom of thunder close behind would break the otherwise monotonous trend.
And so Arnold sat, wrapped up in the spare blanket normally used by Gerald on his sleepovers, his slippered feet dangling above the kitchen floor. He sat, frowning though the candlelight at the other person sitting in the seat across from him. Helga stared back at him, though her expression wasn't a normal glower or smirk. Instead, she looked tired. Perhaps a little annoyed as well, but overall, she looked worn out.
"So you say we need to talk. But what about?" She asked, and he could see faint tremors running through her as she grappled with her fear of thunderstorms. "What is there to say?" It was a good point, and one that Arnold hadn't quite worked out yet. He had so many things he wanted to quiz her on, but mostly he wanted straight answers from her.
"Let me start with this question." He began before pressing his lips into a thin line as he tried hard to think of the best way to ask it. "The person that you are when we're at school . . . that's not the real you, is it?" He asked, absently chewing at the inside of his cheek in thought. Had that been what he'd meant to ask?
"What do you mean, that's not the real me? Of course it is, football head. Why wouldn't it be?" She snapped peevishly but a crack of lightning rang out overhead, silencing her and making her clamp her hands over her ears. Arnold watched curiously and then smiled a little.
"The Helga who's at school isn't afraid of anything, even thunderstorms. The Helga at school wouldn't stop and give me a second thought if I collapsed in a heap infront of her." He said and watched her gaze inch its way across the table towards him. "The Helga that shows her angry face every day certainly wouldn't stay by my side for two days, making sure I stayed alive." Their gazes finally met and Arnold noted trace amounts of fear in her shocked blue eyes. "Nor would that Helga help me and Gerald save this neighborhood." He added as an afterthought.
"That's how I know that the face you show the general world isn't the true you, Helga. It can't be." She opened her mouth to retort angrily, but lightning struck again, effectively cutting her off and forcing her to clamp her hands back down on her ears. Once the thunder had finished echoing, Arnold began to speak again.
"This is something that has been puzzling me for a while now; if you really were such a bad person, why would Phoebe remain by your side? And then it hit me." Her gaze returned to meet his and he drew a deep breath. "She must see something that no one else sees, that no one else is allowed to see. I realized that she must be the only person to know the Helga that exists apart from the person we all know in public."
"And I then realized she must be good." He said softly and noted Helga's wide-eyed expression. "Why else would Phoebe stay best friends with you, even after all these years? How else would you be capable of all these amazing things, if you didn't have some good to you?" She opened her mouth to speak again, but there was a new look to her eyes, one that resonated with Arnold. It held the same emotion as that chained girl from his dream, the one who he had freed. And he could sense that he was close to doing something similar with the Helga before him.
"You can't be serious, football head! Just listen to yourself! Do you know how crazy you sound?" She said, but he heard something different. He heard the words from the song the girl had sung in the dream, and now they distinctly said, find me. "Me? Able to do good? Ha! You know, that's the biggest joke I've ever heard, Arnoldo!"
"No it's not." He said patiently. He had to keep going, keep pressing; he'd find her, he knew that he would. "I know she's there, the person you keep from everyone, the person you hide within yourself." Helga shut her mouth slowly, and he could definitely see fear in her eyes now. "Why are you so scared of showing who you are? What have you got to lose? You stand to gain your own happiness." He watched her through the candlelight, and after a moment, she looked away and sighed.
"You don't know what it's like, Arnold." She said softly, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You live so wonderfully, surrounded by those who love you more than anything, and would do almost anything to make sure you're happy." Her tone . . . he recognized it the moment he heard it, and he knew that he'd finally broken down enough of her walls to get the real Helga to come out.
"And you don't?" He said softly, acting as though she were a timid creature and any sudden movements would scare her off. "What about your sister? From what you told me, she sounded nice. She brought you your clothes and things, didn't she? And she brought a doctor to see me. She loves you, doesn't she?"
"Her and Phoebe . . . aren't I lucky, Arnoldo? Two whole people out of how many? Billions?" Arnold could've kicked himself; her sarcasm was back. That meant a wall had been rebuilt. "Two people out of the entire population who would care if I suddenly died. I feel so very special."
"You don't have to act like that, you know." He said, trying to find another way to bring her back out. "Now that I know it's just a mask, you don't have to hide around me, Helga." She looked at him, her expression suspicious and fearful. "Why can't you trust me? I just want to get to know who you really are. You've remained a mystery to me for so long."
"Why should I trust you?" She snapped. "You're just some stupid . . . football head." She said, lashing out verbally. Arnold sighed inwardly; with each passing comment, he could see her struggling to rebuild everything that he'd torn down, trying hard to protect that inner person again.
"Do you mind if I tell you about a dream I had over the past few days, Helga?" He said, deciding to try a different track. "It was about this girl who was chained to a log in this forest, all by herself. Since she was all alone, she'd sing these beautiful, yet extremely sad songs to pass the time and to express herself. When I got there, she said she'd called me through her singing and asked me to set her free." He noticed Helga was frowning, clearly trying to figure out where he was going with his story.
"So I did my best, and in the end, I did get her free. And then she told me a secret. You know what she said?" He paused for a moment and watched Helga shrug. "She said that the reasons her songs were so sad was because she'd been trapped there for six long years. She'd been chained away, locked behind masks and walls, to keep people from finding her." He noticed Helga had blinked slightly, her mouth moving silently around the words 'six years'.
"But her secret," he continued, "her deepest and most precious secret was that I was the only one who could really get her out. I was the only one who could see her behind everything that had been put up in the way, and I was the only one who could finally bring her out." He noticed Helga was staring at him as he finished, her eyes wide.
"Why . . ." She began, but her voice failed her and Arnold noticed a faint sheen to her eyes. He blinked then, as she covered her face with her hands and put her head down on the table. Frowning, he slid off the chair and walked cautiously to her side.
"Helga? Are you . . ." He said in a hushed voice, but trailed off as he heard a faint sob. Shame filled him then. "Oh, Helga, I'm so sorry . . . I . . . I didn't mean to . . ." He began, unsure of what he should say.
"You didn't mean to what?" She said, her voice muffled by her arms. He sighed a little, biting his lip in uncertainty. She lifted her head slowly and looked over at him, and he hung his head. "You didn't mean to make me cry? Well, I'll tell you what, you certainly did. You want to know why I never show my so-called true self to anyone? It's for this very reason, football head!" He frowned in confusion and looked up at her.
"What do you mean?"
"You always do this to me, don't you? You always manage to find some way to get through, and it's because of your stupid ideas that everyone is really good at heart. You wanna know why I never am nice to anyone? Why I'm so cruel and heartless sometimes? Why I push people around and play all those dumb pranks on you?" Tears flowed down her cheeks freely now, startling him.
"Helga, I'm . . ." He began, but she cut him off.
"You're what? Sorry? Well, it's too late now, bucko!" She snapped harshly, her voice choked with anger and tears. "You just had to keep poking at me, didn't you? You just had to know what made me work, what made me think the way I think, didn't you? You had to have your reason, why mean old Helga Pataki could be so nice sometimes. You just really had to know."
"Helga . . ."
"Shut up!" She yelled as she pounded a fist on the table, making him shut his mouth with a sharp click. "Just so you can be happy and go on your merry little way, yes, it's true! The way I act, how nasty I am, how snide and horrible and cruel I behave is all just one mask hiding everything!" She shouted as she buried her face in her hands.
"I'm just one big huge lie, made to drive people away so they won't ever bother me, they won't ever care." She said through her sobs. "I don't want them to care because I don't want to care about them! I'll only get hurt and rejected!" Though part of him felt horrible for pushing things quite so far, Arnold couldn't help the small smile that rose to his lips. He reached up then, and gently pried away her hands from her face.
"Helga, what makes you think you'll be hurt?" She blinked at him in surprise as he took her hands in his and then began to wipe away some of her tears. "Hm? Why do you think you'll be rejected all the time? If you be yourself, you've got nothing to lose." She sniffed slightly, tears still pooling in her eyes.
"You see why I say I can't ever win with you? Somehow you manage to break down everything." She said quietly. "How is it that you can see people behind their masks when others don't even bother to look? I'm sure people like Gerald or Sid don't take the time to wonder if there's another person inside everyone." She hiccuped and tried to wipe away some of the tears.
"I don't normally, but for some reason . . ." He looked at her intently, and she stared back, her expression sad. "Some reason I couldn't let go of you. There were just too many things about you that didn't make sense, like the way you'd help me sometimes and then annoy me to death."
"I was trying to drive you away, like I'd done with everyone else." She said softly, her voice still sad and slightly uneven from her crying. "I was always afraid that you'd find out . . ." She trailed off and looked away.
"Find out what? That you weren't the big, tough bully that everyone says you are?" She shrugged and he couldn't help smiling more. " Were you afraid that I would peel away that mask of anger and then hate the person I saw? Helga, if you know anything about me, it's that I'm not like that." She looked at him, her expression so very heart wrenching that he couldn't take it anymore.
"Please don't look at me like that, Helga. I hate seeing anyone so sad." She laughed then, a small sharp laugh, but a laugh just the same. "So could you tell me why you hid yourself for all these years? Could you tell me why you never let anyone get close?" She looked at him for a moment in silence and he stared back, determined to get an answer from her.
"If I'm going to tell you, you're going to have to sit down first." He blinked as she slid off her chair and sat him down in it. "My story is a long one, so while I tell it, I'll heat up the left over pasta from the lunch your grandmother made." He let her work for a while without pestering her, getting the pasta out of the tupperware container it had been in and heating it over the little portable Coleman stove. Once she handed him a bowl with a fork and a glass of water and had seated herself across from him, she drew a deep breath.
"You know, it's creepy how close that dream of yours was to what actually goes on with me. Somehow . . . I just knew this day would come." She said, her eyes focused intently on the tabletop. "I knew you would finally worm your way to the truth about me, and yes . . . I was scared that . . ." She looked up at him and their eyes met. "I was scared that you . . . you wouldn't like me. So I was determined to make it so you wouldn't like me enough to even start wondering and questioning in the first place. But . . . I guess I was wrong, wasn't I."
"So you hide out of fear?" Arnold asked as he ate a few noodles and took a sip of water. "Fear of what?"
"What do you think? Fear of being rejected." She said with an angry frown. "Not everyone is as nice and accepting as you are, Arnold, and especially not my family. You . . . you have no idea what it's like, to have parents like mine." For some reason, that hit a sore spot with Arnold.
"At least you have yours. I'd be grateful to just have parents." She gave him a look as he took another sip of water.
"You want to try living my life, football head? Because I'd gladly switch with you in an instant." She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you think everything I've done publicly is because I want to? No, it's been carefully planned out to serve some purpose, be it pleasing my father who wants me to be a second Olga, or to prove to everyone what a horrible person I am. Everything I do in the eye of the people is to strengthen my mask."
"To hide yourself even more." Arnold murmured and she looked away. "But . . . why? Why don't you just try being yourself?"
"Don't you get it at all?" She snapped back at him, her expression a mixture of amazement and sorrow. He met her gaze as steadily as he could and a moment or two of silence passed between them. "Arnold, I can't ever be myself unless I'm alone. You know why? Because no one wants to see the real Helga, everyone wants to see the mask, so that's what I give them."
"Are you really that shallow, Helga?" He asked her with slight astonishment and she looked away again. "Do you really care what everyone else thinks of you? The only opinion that matters is your own."
"I don't have your confidence, Arnoldo." She said softly and her gaze crept towards him again. "You . . . you have people you can always talk to and they'll always try to understand, no matter what you say. You have wonderful, loving grandparents who encourage you every step of the way, and make sure to tell you how much you mean to them." She looked up at his face and he blinked. There were tears in her eyes again.
"Do you think I get any of that, any encouragement, any love?" She said, a note of desperation and bitterness in her voice. " Oh sure, I'll occasionally get a 'good job', but that's only if I'm really lucky. The only one of my accomplishments that has ever been acknowledged has to be when I helped you stop Scheck, but even that blew over in about an hour. And then in was back to polishing Olga's trophies for me." She drew a deep shaky breath before shutting her eyes.
"So you see now? You see why I've stayed hidden for so long?" She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "No one cares about the real me . . . in fact, no one even remotely likes the real me. I learned that when I was very little; I learned that no one would like me if I followed my heart. So I created the mask, to keep people away." She snorted a little.
"And look at how well that turned out. I have no one I can talk to, no one I can confide in, and just look at how happy I am." She sighed. "I know, I know, you're going to bring up Phoebe, aren't you? Well, truth is, I haven't told Phoebe even a little bit of this. Heck, why am I even telling it to you?" She said as she opened her eyes and slumped against the back of the chair.
"Because you knew I would care." Arnold said simply and she stared at him. "You knew that I actually wanted to hear it, that I would listen without interrupting. And without making judgements." He gave her a small smile.
"Because that's what you do, right?" She said, though her voice said she already knew the answer. "That is what you do, after all. You're the great problem solver and advice giver; nothing is beyond your grasp, you can fix anything." She said with a small sneer but then she sighed. "You know how much I've wanted your insight? I've always felt that my life would be as easy as yours if I could only see what you see."
"You think my life is easy?" He asked in disbelief and she nodded. "Helga, my life isn't a piece of cake either, you know. I have my fair share of problems, I just don't go around parading them for everyone to see." She looked at him skeptically.
"Really? Oh do tell, Arnold. I'm dying to hear just how much more you like Lila and how frustrated you are that she won't like you like you. Or what about a little fight with Gerald, one that is quite obviously fixable?" She said before rolling her eyes. "If your life is hard, then my life must be hell, wouldn't you say?"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Helga. You don't know me." He said defensively. "There are a lot of things I have that I can't go to anyone with, not Gerald, and not even my grandparents." She gave him a rather surprised look. "I'm not perfect, Helga. I make mistakes like everyone else, and I have difficulties like everyone else. So what if they aren't obvious? No one needs to know about them."
"You . . . you really have things that you keep from everyone?" She asked softly and he nodded.
"Of course I do. What, did you think I was a saint or something? Untouched by normal human problems?" He asked and she looked at him silently. "Helga, are you crazy? I've lost both of my parents. I barely even remember them. Did you think that never bothered me?" There was yet another pause in their conversation, and finally Helga spoke.
"I guess, Arnold . . . I guess we have a lot more in common than I'd ever thought." She said softly and he blinked, a new realization dawning on him. His mouth must've been open or something, because she frowned at him. "What? What's with the face?"
"It makes sense now." He said and her frown deepened. "No, don't ask anything just yet; I'll explain." He held up a hand to forestall any questions she might have. "What you just said . . . it makes everything fit into place for me. You see, I'd been wondering why . . . why I just couldn't ever seem to let go of your actions, why you fascinated me so much." Helga shook her head absently, a small half-smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You know why, Helga? Because we are a lot alike." She blinked and gave him an odd look. "I'm sure that sometimes when you're with huge crowds of people, haven't you felt just so . . . so . . ." He grimaced, he couldn't think of the proper word to express what he was feeling.
"Deserted?" She said softly and he looked at her; that word had fit his emotions exactly. "Like no one around you could possibly begin to understand the thoughts in your head or the problems you're dealing with." He nodded slowly, completely in awe of how well her description had fit. "Sure, most of the time you're too distracted to think about it, but there comes that one moment, and suddenly it hits you like a ton of bricks that . . ."
"You're all alone, and even the few people you do trust . . ." He said, looking at her. Her deep blue eyes met his intense green ones, and as they looked at eachother, each felt a chord of some sort had been struck.
"They can't ever understand what you're feeling." She finished the thread of thought quietly. His eyes searched her face through the candlelight, the gentle glow softening her features and making her look more like the girl from his dreams, the one with the radiant smile.
"So the reason you tried so hard to bring me out, to force me to show who I really am was because you could subconsciously tell that about me?" She said after a moment and he nodded slowly in agreement. "It was so you could have someone just like yourself, someone who understood what it's like sometimes to be so . . . so alone?"
"I guess so." They continued to look at eachother through the soft light, each slowly processing everything that had just occurred. Part of Arnold was even wondering if it had even happened, if this wasn't just another deranged dream of his. Finally, he tore his gaze from her face and he pinched his arm as hard as he dared.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed and he noticed Helga blinked.
"What . . . why did you just do that?" She asked in confusion, and he looked up at her sheepishly.
"I was worried that this might actually be a dream or something, because you'll have to admit that this whole event seems pretty crazy." He said and she started giggling. It was a strange sound, but mostly it was because Helga rarely laughed or showed any emotion besides anger. "What's so funny?"
"You are." She said with a smile, and he couldn't help smiling in return. Her laughter was infectious. "I don't know why, but only you would pinch yourself after such a serious conversation." He opened his mouth to say something back, but there was another loud hum and the lights flickered back on.
"Dare we to hope that they stay?" Arnold said as he started blowing out candles. He watched Helga shrug as she started helping him. She moved the lantern down from atop the fridge and clicked it off before setting it on the table. Arnold finished with the candles and set them all beside the sink before taking his pasta plate and setting it in the sink.
"Don't bother washing them, I'll do them tomorrow morning because right now I'm about to fall over. I'm so tired." She said while swallowing a yawn. "I'm going to go to sleep, okay?" He turned to her and nodded slightly as she started to walk from the kitchen.
"Where have you been sleeping?" He asked as he followed her and turned off the kitchen light behind them.
"Where else? On that couch in your room, whenever I managed to get a moment or two. I think it's safe for you to assume that I haven't slept much over the past few days." She said with another yawn as they started up the first flight of stairs. Arnold double checked to make sure the front door was locked and then clicked off the light in the landing.
"Do you want me to get you a sleeping bag? I'm sure you're going to need it, and an extra pillow." She shrugged as they passed the hall closet and taking that as a yes, Arnold opened it and began rummaging around. After a moment, he finally found one of each item, and then shut the door. When he looked towards his room, he saw Helga waiting for him on the stairs.
"I have been using a blanket that I found, but thanks for finding the sleeping bag." She said as he neared and handed it to her. As she walked up the final flight to his room, he clicked off the hall light. "You always think of everything, don't you." She said as he entered his room and he watched her curl up on the couch, the sleeping bag wrapped around her.
"I try to." He said and she smiled faintly. "Helga, there's one more thing I've been wondering about and I want to ask you before you go to sleep." She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly.
"Anyone ever tell you that you wonder too much?" He couldn't help but smile and she waved her hand. "Well, ask me, football head, before I pass out."
"The reason you stayed with me . . . does it have anything to do with that . . . that conversation we had a while back?" She frowned slightly, and he bit his lip. Did he really want to bring this up right now? "You know . . . I know you remember. The one we had on top the FTi building?"
"Oh." She said, her face suddenly hard to read. "That one." She drew a deep breath and arranged the sleeping bag around her more tightly. Arnold waited for a moment, but eventually he couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"Well? Does it?" He pressed and she looked up at him. Their gazes met for the briefest of instances . . . and Arnold knew.
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Arnold awoke Sunday morning, the sun lighting up his room more than he'd liked at that moment, but he yawned and stretched as he sat up slowly. He rubbed his eyes for a moment to get rid of the sleep still in them and then he looked around his room slowly. Helga was there, still curled beneath the sleeping bag, but she was on the floor instead of the couch, and to Arnold's surprise, Abner was curled up beside her, and the two were sleeping peacefully.
Slipping slowly from his bed, Arnold slid his feet into his slippers and crept over to the two of them. Abner gave a sleepy grunt as he approached and looked up at him before putting his head back down and curling closer to Helga's warmth. Arnold smiled a little as he scratched behind Abner's ears fondly and watched Helga open her eyes sleepily. She blinked up at him a little bit before realizing where she was.
"Ar . . . Arnold?" She mumbled a little before pushing herself up. Abner gave a snort of surprise as she moved and then yawned loudly. Helga laughed a little at the pig and then patted his head affectionately. "You dumb pig, you know how much you kept me up last night?" She said with a smile and Abner rested his head in her lap.
"Abner really likes you, Helga." He said and she rolled her eyes, her hand still petting the pig's head. "He doesn't act this way around Gerald or my grandparents, that's for sure, probably because Grandma wants to fry him up half the time."
"He's quite a pet, football head. I personally couldn't believe you slept through the noise he was making last night. First it seemed like he was trying to break the door down to get inside, and then he was all muddy, so I had to at least clean him off a little. You wouldn't believe the mess he made in the kitchen, but I was too tired to clean it up."
"It seems you were too tired to get mad at him." She shrugged.
"I normally don't like animals, but he grew on me. I couldn't stay mad at him, especially when he'd give me that look of his. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about; the one where his eyes get all big and sad?" She said as Abner stood up and licked her cheek. She laughed and pushed him off gently. "Stop that, or I may have to hand you over to Gertie when she gets home!" Abner looked at her for a moment and then licked her cheek again.
"Who's Gertie?" Arnold asked as he drew Abner into his arms to get him off Helga. She wiped her cheek absently before giving Abner's head one last pat and then she stood slowly, stretching.
"Your grandmother. Who else would she be?" She said, picking up the sleeping bag and tossing it onto the couch. "Why don't we go downstairs and then you can take a look at the damage your pet has done." She said as she opened the door to his room and Abner wriggled from his arms and raced after her.
"You think you're getting something to eat, do you?" Arnold heard Helga say as he started to follow her and he saw Abner following her closely, his expression one of expectancy. "Well, not until that kitchen is free of mud and dirt, piggy. Then I'll think about feeding you." Abner oinked in response as he rubbed against her legs. "What are you, a puppy?" She said with a laugh as she started down the stairs and Arnold couldn't help the smile.
Seems that I was right . . . a nice Helga does exist. He thought to himself as he started down the stairs to the first floor. He could see light coming from the kitchen and as he walked in, he was completely floored.
"ABNER!" He shouted angrily and watched the pig squeal and run behind Helga. She was looking at him with an 'I told you so' expression and Arnold glared at his pet. "What in the world did you do?" Mud was everywhere, covering nearly everything with splotches and little piggy hoof prints. Chairs had been over turned and the tablecloth was in a muddy heap on the floor. Several of the cabinets had been opened, their food contents spilling over the linoleum from ripped packages. All in all, it looked as though the kitchen had been hit by a muddy tornado.
"Did you think I'd been exaggerating?" Helga asked, her expression one of slight disbelief. Arnold groaned as he righted a chair and plopped down into it. This was going to take forever to clean up . . .
"Come here, Abner." Helga said and soon she'd scooped up the pig into her arms. Carrying him over to Arnold, she held him out and Arnold glared. "Abner is sorry, Arnold. See?" The pig looked up at him with his pleading, sorry eyes and Arnold felt it hard to hold his glare. Finally he sighed and took the pig from Helga. Abner licked his cheek gently and Arnold laughed a little.
"Why'd you have to go and do that, Helga? He won't learn discipline if I can't stay angry." He stood up, Abner still in his arms, and then walked to the back door. After unlocking it, he opened it and set Abner down. "And I think Helga's punishment is fitting; we're not going to feed you until after the kitchen is clean." He gave Abner a little push and he trotted outside reluctantly. "It won't take us that long; just go out and play." He then shut the door gently and turned to Helga before sighing.
"You ready to clean, football head?" He sighed a little more as she started for the closet with the cleaning supplies.
"Whenever you are, Helga."
It took the two of them a good chunk of the morning to clean the kitchen, and about half way through, they ran out of cleaning solution. Since she was the one who was dressed, Helga brushed her hair quickly and ran down to the general store to get some more. While she was out, Arnold took the opportunity to change out of his pajamas and soon Helga returned shortly with plenty of solution to finish the job.
As time trickled by, neither he nor Helga had said a word about their conversation the night before and frankly, Arnold felt slightly relieved. Part of him didn't know quite how to deal with everything he'd learned, and he had a feeling Helga was still recovering from the shock of having her mask ripped away. So they'd cleaned in relative silence, Arnold silently processing the information. One of them would occasionally strike up a nonchalant conversation, but neither were tempted to bring up their previous one just yet.
Noon rolled around and Arnold couldn't help grinning; the kitchen was spotless. Helga was down in the basement, actually hand washing the tablecloth. It was fine linen, and since she seemed to know a thing or two about caring for delicate material, Arnold didn't question her decision. He could hear the splashes of water that drifted up from the basement and he decided to make something for them to eat. After, of course, he fed Abner.
The little pig was still waiting outside the back door when Arnold opened it, and much to his surprise, Abner didn't have a spot of mud on him. He'd given Arnold that sorrowful look of his as he rubbed up against his leg, and Arnold couldn't help but smile.
"It's okay, Abner, I already forgave you." He said as he reached down to pet the pig fondly. "Just don't ever do that again, all right?" Abner grunted as they walked into the kitchen and Arnold began to make Abner his lunch.
"And now to make us something." He murmured as he set down Abner's dish and started for the fridge. As Arnold rummaged around, looking for something edible, he heard footsteps behind him and looked up to see Helga entering the kitchen, a big basin and the tablecloth in her grasp.
"I'm taking this outside to dry, all right, football head?" She said and he walked over to open the back door for her. "And good luck trying to find anything in there; from what I saw, most of it is rotten." Then she hooked a foot around the door, making it close behind her. Arnold sighed before turning back to the fridge; it seemed she was right and it was a hopeless case.
Can't make sandwiches because there's no meat and the jelly went bad a while ago. Arnold thought as he opened the jelly jar and blanched at the horrendous smell. I never thought jellies could actually spoil . . . The lettuce was completely withered, most of the milk and cheese had putrefied, and it just got worse from there. How his grandmother actually managed to find anything to cook was beyond him.
"I'll go shopping for groceries if you want, Arnoldo." He looked up as Helga came back into the house, wiping her feet before she walked onto the newly cleaned floor. "Olga gave me her credit card and told me to use it for supplies that I need, and I'd say that food is a pretty important supply, wouldn't you?" Arnold bit his lip a little as he thought.
"Helga, you don't have to do that. I'll just go down to the corner store or something." He said and she shook her head.
"Look, you're the one who just got over a very nasty fever, and I don't want you tiring yourself out just yet. So that means you're staying here regardless of what we decide to do, and I'll make sure of that, even if I have to tie you to a chair or something." She said sternly as she folded her arms over her chest. "I don't want to have you sick again, especially since Christmas is coming up." She frowned at him and Arnold held up his hands.
"Okay, okay, I'm not going anywhere. We've just agreed on that." He said and moved to take a seat at the table. He watched with a frown as Helga began to rummage around in a drawer beside the sink and soon she tossed him a pen and a pad of paper. "What's this for?" He asked, his frown deepening as he caught the two things.
"Make me a list; I'm not going to go to the store without one." She said as she began to walk out of the kitchen. "Have it done when I come back downstairs, and then I'll go to the supermarket."
"Helga, but that's halfway across town! How are you going to get there?" He called after her and she poked her head back into the kitchen. "You can't be thinking of taking the bus, can you?"
"What else do you suggest I do? I don't drive, football head." She said while frowning at him. "I know what I'm doing, Arnoldo. I've gone to the grocery store before by taking bus, and I've managed to get home with everything that I bought too. And besides, I'm not shopping for every little necessity. I'm just going to get enough to last until Tuesday morning when your grandparents show back up." He frowned at her and she grinned.
"So relax, hair boy, everything has been taken care of." He rolled his eyes at her and she gave him a look. "Just make that list, all right? Think of things we can make for dinner today and tomorrow and anything else you'd like." She called as she started to walk away again.
"All right, all right." He muttered before tucking the pen behind his ear and walking over to the fridge. What could he put on here that they really needed? "Milk, that's something to start with." He said as he pulled out the fermented bottle. "Ug, doesn't Grandma throw anything away?"
*~*~*
Yes, yes, I know, what a place to stop, huh. Hope this chapter wasn't too out there for people, and that it actually was sort of . . . oh I don't know. I know that the last part was kinda dumb, (sighs), but I couldn't think of anything that I really wanted to put there. Let's just say it's lighthearted to balance out the first part, which is sort of heavy. What I think is funny is that this chapter had been planned completely different, but isn't writing crazy that way?
Gah, let's see if the next chapter, which is the last chapter can work itself out of me faster than the last one. :\
Love forever and ever:
pottergal
