(I don't know how I function from day to day, but I do, so of course the most logical thing is, I deserve something for the functioning that is being done.)

I looked in the mirror for the umpteenth time that afternoon. I stared at my reflection as if it was going to change. Hopefully into something somewhat decent.

I guess I didn't look that bad. My generally curly/waving blonde hair was straight and in a ponytail. I was wearing jeans, my black boots, and a black long sleeve shirt that had, in sparkling pink letters, "damaged" written across it. This seemed befitting.

I looked at the clock and sighed a little. It was already five forty-five. I left my room closing the door and made my way downstairs.

"Mom?" I asked as I began putting on my black petty coat. "Mom?" I grabbed the box of assorted chocolates I bought from the store and wandered into the living room.

Miriam had fallen asleep on the couch. Her feet were up on the coffee table and her arms were folded against her chest. I sighed.

I scribbled a small note and then covered her with a blanket. I knew if I waited any longer I would have never left.

It took about ten minutes to get to his house. The cold air nipped at my face. This however didn't bother me. Few things did at this point.

I stood on his stoop waiting for someone to open the door. I remember playing at the bottom when we were younger. Jump roping to silly rhymes using his name. It was hard to think of those days now. It was like they weren't real, dreams I had during a better time.

"Hello?" I turned and looked at a short woman, maybe two or three inches from my own height, with shoulder length brown hair and a pretty smile. "You must be Helga."

"Yes, um… I bought you these." I handed her the chocolates; she seemed to be extremely please because her smile widen.

"What a sweetheart. Thank you so much. Please come in." She opened the door further and gently put her hand on my shoulder once I was in. "Arnold will be down in a minute."

"Thank you—"

"Stella," She smiled. I nodded.

"Stella." The name was smooth and rolled off my tongue. I took off my jacket and she commented on how she liked my shirt. I nodded and thanked her again.

This wasn't the first time I've met her. When they were first "discovered" back in sixth grade, Arnold had some big party for them. I had seen them briefly but I was surprised at how affectionate they had taken to Hillwood. Stella refused to let Arnold out of her sight and his father… what was his name? He was socializing and having fun. They looked like the ideal family.

I mused that there was no such thing. Then again, what do I know?

"Hey!" I turned and looked at the taller boy with the cornflower hair. He was giddy. This sickened me on some level, but I felt my own lips twitch in a smile.

"Hi." I said. He grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the dining room.

"I didn't think you were going to come. You seemed so weird on the phone. Well not weird weird, but you know." He said in a rush. This was like a first date I thought. It's awkward and while one is excited the other is counting the minutes for it to be over.

Not that I was counting or anything.

His grandmother was seated at one end of the table and his grandfather at the other.

"So…" I looked over to his grandfather and smiled. "You're the Pataki's girl, right?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"Is your father still a moron?"

"Grandpa!"

"Yes." I nodded again. I turned to see Arnold covering his face with his hand.

"It's ok short man, she agreed." His grandfather then began laughing. This made me smile.

"So Eleanor, how have you been? Young Franklin here says that you've been quite busy to come join us for tea." His grandmother wore a somewhat crazy smile. I nodded.

"I have been somewhat very busy. But I will have to make time to come have tea with you."

His grandmother's face lit up and she thrusted her hand in the air with a loud 'whoop'. "Brava Eleanor, brava!"

The best people never changed, I believe they become better.

"Had I known everyone was in here…" Arnold's father smiled as he walked in and sat across from Arnold. He looked me over and nodded. I wasn't sure why. But Arnold seemed to be telling him to cut it out.

I knew that this was all one of Arnold's lovely little schemes to break down my walls. I mused that if I were to have a breakdown, right here and now, the boy would be having a party.

"Do you like lamb Helga?" I smiled at Stella who was bringing in some plates. I noticed Arnold went in the kitchen to gather the rest of the plates.

"Yes, I do." I had been taught to be polite when with company, I just can't remember who taught me.

"Let's eat!" Arnold's father and grandfather said together as Arnold sat down from bringing in the last of the plates. I noticed Stella and Arnold glaring at them and his grandmother just sort of staring at his grandfather. I then heard laughter.

It took a few seconds, but I figured out who had found this funny. Me.

(As the night went on I couldn't help but smile… maybe I wasn't such a lost cause after all.)

As we ate and talked I found myself enjoy their company more and more. I could tell Arnold knew this because he looked pleased with himself.

We were finishing up when I felt somewhat tired. Not only did I feel tired but also my throat began to hurt.

And then the coughing came.

It was nothing like my sister's hollow coughing; it was short coughs that erupted quickly. I saw a glass of water placed in front of me and I quickly drank some. This seemed to calm the coughing.

I looked up to see a worried Stella and a more worrisome Arnold.

"I'm sorry." My higher power was taking over again. "This weather."

My higher power seemed to protect while slowly screwing me up. I would be surprised if one day I tripped while getting myself out of being shot.

My world is pretty screwed up.

"Are you sure you're ok dear?" Stella asked. She was a doctor my mind screamed at me. Ask for help.

"Eleanor's fine!" I heard his grandmother say, even though her tone defied her words.

"I'm ok." I heard the higher power say.

I put my head down and began staring into my plate I had eaten maybe half of what they had given me. The food wasn't bad or anything, it's just I wasn't hungry.

"Well, Arnold, why don't you and your grandfather clear the table and Helga you can go watch some TV in the living room until Arnold gets done." Stella gave me a warm smile.

She is the perfect mother. I can feel it.

"I can help." I said.

"Nonsense! You are a guest in our home!" She slightly scolded, but smiled none the less.

Arnold gave me a warm smile as I found myself in the living room. I didn't feel much like watching TV; I stopped trying to evade my life by living vicariously through a sitcom.

"Mind if I read the newspaper?" I looked up and smiled at Arnold's father.

"Sure, Mr.—"

"Please," He put his hand up. "Miles."

"Sure, Miles." I smiled.

I imagined him working on Wall Street, a cell phone in his hand ranting about how Thomas, the new comer, was a moron. He would come home very tired, almost unalive. Stella would float from her kitchen with fresh potatoes and lamb, an apple pie in the oven. They would share a kiss as Miles went into the study to read his newspaper and help Arnold with his homework.

Of course, being twisted and mentally ill (if nothing else), I found this to be ideal. This image of family gave me comfort.

"Arnold sure talks highly of you." I looked at him surprised. "He says that you are a real pistol. Smart, creative, a real strong girl. He admires you."

"Thank you." I was unsure what to say, if my response was correct.

"Ever since we got back, actually, you are one of the people he talks about. I dare say that I would assume you and him were best friends."

I knew what he was hinting at. What he meant.

He had soft eyes, like Arnold, so very much like Arnold. You could feel safe talking to him. That all your secrets would follow him to the grave. I store this away. I might have to pay him one day to take away my doubts and fears.

Then again that is why I have a therapist.

"Arnold is a really great guy." My higher power was taking over, but I was happy, I don't think I'm well enough to say anything that good.

"He is." Miles nodded curtly. "You're a great girl yourself Helga."

I'm still surprised I didn't fall over laughing, amused he fell for my lie. Instead I smiled softly and mumbled a humble thank you. If he thought I was a great girl, maybe I was.

But not everyone can see the same things.

"You want to hang out in my room?" I looked from Miles to Arnold.

I nodded, and then got up. I smiled at Miles and followed Arnold up the stairs.

My life is a long and strange trip.

I don't know if I'll survive it.

We got to his room and I looked around, Arnold will never change.

It's a simple well-known fact.

His room was exactly the same as it had been the last time I was there. Maybe five or six years ago. Blue walls, blue carpets, and a twin-size bed with a built in bookshelf around it. His bedroom had never gone through the problems of change. I envied it almost.

"How's your family?" He never could start off easy.

"They're doing…" I kinda was at a lost for words and ended the sentence by shrugging.

"Helga." He said it with this tone, as if he was here just to solve my problems. His tone suggested to make this as easy as possible.

"I don't know… they're… ok." I sat on his bed. He had a really comfortable bed. I could imagine sleeping on his bed.

I looked at him. I was feeling so tired and so, just out of it, and there he was. His eyes are so big and hold so much of everything.

What the hell do I have to give him?

Why is he so obsessed about finding out all about me?

Why couldn't he just be normal and give up on me?

I would have given up so long ago.

Maybe I had given up.

Then why am I still here?

Because he's here.

(It's not the flying through air it's the without a net part I'm worried about.)

I sat on the comfortable couch in Dr. Bliss's office. I had a two-hour session, once a month, every other month. I still don't know who pays for these sessions.

I remember asking her (who pays for them) and her looking at me, with that cat grin, asking "Does it really matter?" I remember feeling the urge to begin yelling, but then the higher power took control and had shrugged.

Most people have a weekly session with their therapist. Once again Dr. Bliss asked me if I wanted weekly sessions. I said no. Then, as an after thought, I said I deserved that much.

We both laughed as if it was a joke.

I had told her about Arnold in the first hour. How dinner the night before was enjoyable, but I didn't tell him anything.

"Not because I couldn't," I shook my head. "Cause I didn't want too."

We were now sitting in silence, she was doodling in her notebook and I was contemplating my life.

"They don't understand." I said out of no where.

"They don't." She agreed her cat grin on her face. She was analyzing me. Piece by piece.

"No one gets it." I continued.

She nodded and looked at me. "They might never."

I nodded and went back to staring into space.

Piece by piece had its advantages. Therapy itself had its advantages.

"Have any good dreams lately?" She asked.

I sighed. "One, actually, last night."

She might be the only one I will ever open too. I might die having only talked to her.

"Tell me about it." She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands together over her chest.

I took in a deep breath.

I told her about how I had dreamt I was at the circus, except not really. How all the kids from my classes were dressed as clowns and they were laughing at me. Arnold had been the ringleader; he was dressed in a red jacket with a black vest and wore a top hat. Olga was the main attraction. She was dressed all in white; her hair pinned up in some unnecessary hair do. She was walking along barbwire. She was so poised. They had taken the net from under her. She began coughing, and she lost her balance, and she fell.

I stopped and looked at Dr. Bliss. I had noticed that I was no longer on the couch but next to the overly large window, staring into the abyss known as Fourth View Avenue.

"What do you feel it means?" She stopped asking specific questions when I stopped answering them.

I turned back to the window and sighed.

I had visited the circus when I was five, a week before kindergarten was starting. My grandmother had taken me and Olga, who was fifteen at the time. I had been so excited.

Before we even got into the tent a group of clowns came up to me. One boldly took a step towards me and poked me gently. The other clowns began laughing hysterically.

To this day I dislike clowns.

The ringleader of the circus was a young man. Tall and almost regal looking. He had a strong chin and curly red hair. He looked absolutely insane, but in a good way, a funny way. The things I remember most were his eyes and his smile. He had big green eyes that were joyful and held secrets, one could only assume funny secrets. He had a nice smile. Not like an everyday type of smile, but a nice smile. "Not everyone has nice smiles." I noted.

"Who else has a nice smile Helga?" I heard her voice but it sounded far away.

"Arnold, he has a nice smile." I was talking to the window, staring from the fifteenth floor.

The main attraction had been the Barbwired Ballerina. She was so beautiful in a flimsy tutu. She had dark skin. The white of her costume made her more pretty. I was in awe as I watched her tip toe from one end to the other. Doing ballerina tricks that only so many can perform. She was so graceful and everyone loved her. Everyone knew who she was.

"She never fell." I stated.

"Why is that?"

"She wasn't suppose to… it's her job to be perfect." I stared out of the window.

"Everyone falls though." Dr. Bliss said.

I could see my reflection in the smooth glass. "Not her." I heard my voice say. "She's immortal." I nodded. "In my mind."

Everyone should be immortal I heard her say, but she sound far away again.

I watched a man trip, but luckily he caught himself. His wife, or daughter, or sister, whatever woman had been walking with him took his arm. I wanted to think she was smiling he was ok.

"If every one was immortal," I heard my self speak as I stared out the window. "One would never have to suffer. Where's the fun in that?"

We spent the rest of the session discussing trivial matters. Dr. Bliss knew of what was going on at home. She knew about the divorce and Olga. She knew all the outside and so very little of the inside.

"Helga," She said as I was grabbing my coat. I looked at her. "All of life is a circus, only not everyone's laughing."

I nodded, taking this in and storing it away.

As I began to walk home I rolled over her words.

All the world loves a clown, I mused.

Why can't I?

Oh, by the way, about three years ago there was a small article in the newspaper, on the front page. The legendary Barbwire Ballerina had been doing her last and final show. She had just turned thirty-nine. She had been in the business for twenty years. She was doing one of her many tricks when she saw her younger sister (by seven years) faint in the crowd. She lost her balance and fell. Her sister had an asthma attack, after not having one in several years. They held a double funeral. I remember thinking that she was no longer immortal. I cried for two hours. Just for your information, of course.

(I wanted to be perfect, so the world would love me too. But as always you showed me, all I needed was you.)

I got home around six o'clock. The air was crisp and I could smell snow in the air. This made me smile, but only for a second.

As I entered the house I heard my mother's voice carrying from upstairs. She was reading to Olga. I dropped my coat near the door and walked into the kitchen. I was feeling ok, not great but not that bad.

My throat was a little dry. I got a glass of water and sat at the island. I was looking at various papers on the counter. They were newspaper articles and magazine clippings. My mother had picked up scrap booking at some point in time.

I looked around and noted that it was silent, almost calming.

I felt tears in the back of my eyes.

I knew it wasn't too much longer now.

There was no more time.

It was all going to come crashing down.

Then what? I thought. What's left after this?

A little voice in my head chuckled darkly. I cringed for I knew what he knew.

What was left after this?

Nothing