The Sweet Hereafter: The Long Night
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Part XXII: It's All In Your Head
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"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
--Ghandi
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I have no mouth, and I must scream. There's no other way to describe it. You're just standing there, looking up at me with those mesmerizing eyes, and I'm laid bare for all to see. Despite all my own private hopes and fantasies, I didn't want it to be like this. I don't know what I expected. You're looking at me as if for the first time, and now you can see that I'm wretched, pitiful, poor, blind, and naked. What damage have I done by keeping things hidden all this time?
I have trouble looking at you. Can you tell? All I want to do is curl up into a ball until I disappear. I'm afraid of what might happen next. Now that this is hanging out there, I realize something huge has been building between the two of us. Something beyond conflict or romance or. . .anything you can put words to. I think after all the things I've done to you over they years, there's just a connection between us. How am I supposed to face you? Face anyone? Don't you know how much I hate myself, how much I hate my life?
Well say something! Tell me you hate me and never want to see me again, but please just stop staring. I can't take it when you look at me like this. You have to feel something. Tell me! Because I'm out of things to do. I'm just. . .I'm so tired, Arnold. I'm tired of living these lies. I'm tired of my parents. I'm tired of being a bully. I'm tired of being kind. And if I don't get a change, I'm going to go numb. You want to help someone, then help me! Save me from myself! Take me, or help me stop loving you.
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Part XXIII: Testimony
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"No one can go back and make a brand new start.
Anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."
--Tom Brummet
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"So. . ." Arnold began, his eyes half-lidded and at a loss for words.
"Don't." Helga said, no longer meeting his gaze. "Just . .don't."
"Helga, I'm sorry." Arnold said softly. "This is all my fault, for not discussing this with you weeks ago."
"I don't want your pity right now Arnold. I don't even know what's going on."
"What?" Arnold was very confused.
"I was telling Dr. Bliss all sorts of crazy stuff!" Helga exclaimed. "I mean, have you seen all the medications they have me on? I'm seeing streaks here!"
"Those are vitamins, Helga."
"Just let it go, all right?"
"No." Arnold said firmly.
"I said to let it go, okay? Just leave me alone, Hair Boy! I don't need this right now! Or haven't you noticed that not even one of my parents has come down to check on me since I woke up?"
"Neither of them?" Arnold asked.
"No. You and Phoebe are the only two people who came to see me. I didn't even get so much as a phone call from anyone else!"
"I'm. . .sorry, Helga."
"Don't be!" She spat. "It's not like I don't know that no one cares. For once I was holding out a little hope that my own parents might show some concern. Pfft, how stupid was that, huh? They've never cared about me before, I don't know why I was thinking that this time might be any different. You know, Arnold, I really envy you sometimes. At least you get raised by your grandparents. From where I'm sitting, not knowing your parents is a blessing, not a curse."
"C'mon, Helga, you shouldn't say those things. Even if they do treat you badly, they're still your parents."
"They brought me into this world, Arnold." Helga nodded. "Too bad they never had any intentions of following through afterwards. They see me as a disappointment and an inconvenience. Believe me, one of the things I take great pleasure in is doing things to stymie Bob."
"I'm sorry. I. . .don't really know much about my parents. Only that they went to help some people, and they never came back."
Helga moaned lightly at the prospect of getting into this kind of contest with the boy. "That must bite." She said softly.
"Yeah." Arnold agreed. They both looked at each other, not sure what to say.
"So, you still want to compare screwed up families?" Helga laughed very lightly, knowing it wasn't a funny subject but unsure of what else there was to say.
"There's a lot about you I don't know." Arnold said guiltily.
"Doi!" Helga shot back. "What you don't know about me, I could just about fill the Grand Canyon with, Football Head."
Arnold shook his head. "I don't want to fight with you Helga."
"We never do anything else!" Helga spat. "It's what we're good at!"
"Why do you want it to be that way? Why can't we just talk like two regular people?"
"Because I don't know what to say to you, all right? I never know what to say to you. Sometimes you make me so angry, I just want to scream!"
"Good, at least we're getting somewhere. Why do I annoy you?"
"Because you always. . ."
"I always what?"
"It's like no matter what I see happen to you, you always do the right thing. You're always concerned about someone else. It's like anything I've ever done in my life pales in comparison to the way you easily walk through life! I already feel inadequate enough at home."
"Okay." Arnold nodded. "Then what about. . .what you said before."
"Before?"
"A couple of weeks ago, nasty night, wind. Balcony of FTI."
"What, you've never been caught up in the moment before?! I told you, it didn't mean anything." Helga explained.
"I was wrong for not taking the time to talk about it then, but I was distracted." Arnold ignored her denial. "We should talk about it now."
"No, we shouldn't." Helga raised her voice. "Look, do you honestly want to get into this?"
"Considering everything that happened? That night and this week? Yeah."
"Well I wouldn't. I know a hopeless cause where I see one."
"Hopeless romantics are only hopeless in the eyes of those that don't believe in romance." Arnold said, sitting down.
"What?"
"Something I read once."
"And you believe in romance?"
"Sure, why not? I mean, it doesn't make any sense, that's how you know it's real."
"Wouldn't you rather be trying to wow Little Miss Perfect?" Helga said, refusing to believe anything good could come for her now.
"Her name is Lila." Arnold said, his eyes giving Helga a look that clearly asked her not to refer to the girl like that. "And no, I wouldn't. There's too much I don't know about you. I want to know more."
"You, want to know more about me?" Helga felt a bit shocked.
"Look, I can't forget those things you said that night. Before then, I don't know if I could even have pictured you having. . .those kinds of feelings for anyone, least of all me. And I feel like I need to know everything I can about you now. Because no one has ever said those kind of. . .that was deep stuff, Helga."
"Yeah, well. . .I've had a lot of time to perfect it."
"So tell me about who you are." Arnold insisted. "Tell me about the girl who's always ready with an insult and a scowl. About the girl who I haven't seen give a genuine smile since longer than I can remember."
"You want to know about me? Fine. Give me one of those cups of water." Arnold nodded and walked to Helga's bedside with one of the two cups he had brought into the room. Helga snatched it and took a deep sip. "This might take awhile."
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As it turned out, it took nearly two hours for Helga to make a dent in her story. It was slow going at first. Superficial, unimportant things. But once she got going, Helga was surprised at how easy it was to talk about herself. Finally, someone was willing to just shut up and listen to her life and her take on the world. Even so, she remained careful not to talk about experiences or feelings regarding the boy sitting across from her.
Arnold was fairly shocked to learn how deep her stories ran, things about her family, things at school he had never been aware of, and some of the things she and Phoebe had been through together. "Your sister sounds really. . .amazing." Arnold said as Helga paused for another drink.
With extreme effort, Helga somehow managed to keep herself from lunging at the boy and cramming her glucose bag down his throat. Her eyebrow knotted in frustration and she shattered the plastic cup she was holding.
"Um, I can understand why you would have some issues with her, though." Arnold quickly backpedaled. "It's really unfair of your parents to favor her so blatantly over you."
Helga sighed. "I'd like to say that it's something I've come to accept, but I don't know if I ever will. I guess that's pretty weak of me."
"You're not weak, Helga."
"Whatever you say, Arnold." It was definitely a mocking comment, but considering how many times he had told her the same, Arnold found it mildly endearing. "Look, maybe you should go."
"Why? I don't have anywhere else to be." Arnold shrugged.
"Don't you know enough about me already?"
"I just wanted to get the whole story. You seem to know a lot about me, and before tonight I never really knew who you were."
"Well, now you know." Helga felt rather pleased with herself, having been able to talk to her love without saying anything incriminating or resorting to insults. "Does that make you feel better?"
"I'm still trying to piece some of it together. I still remember you back when we were really little. The first time I saw you, you were covered in mud."
"I was having a bad day." Helga said quietly, not looking at him.
"You were a lot different then, until you changed."
"I'm not ashamed of who I am, Arnold."
"I didn't say you should be. Everyone does things they aren't proud of, or that they don't understand, or that they wish they could change. Even I have a few skeletons in my closet I don't like to talk about."
"You?"
"Well, we all have those experiences in life we take to our graves. Most of the stories we choose never to repeat to anyone happen in our childhood."
"Where do you get this stuff?"
Arnold shrugged. "Anyway, Helga, you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are."
"Good, because I'm not!"
"But considering everything you've told me, there's something I don't understand."
"I promised you a story." Helga grinned. "Explanations cost extra."
Arnold ignored her. "I can understand your personality, why you choose to be an aggressor. You were taught at an early age that the only way anyone will pay attention to you is if you force them to."
"Yeah, that's right."
"I paid attention to you."
"That was a long time ago, Football Head! I told you, I was having a bad day."
"And what about now?"
"I'm having a bad life."
"Helga, you have to be willing to dig deeper. You don't have to prove to me that you're some kind of bully, or even apologize for it. None of that matters."
"So what does?"
"Somewhere inside you, there's something else. Something that has never been properly nurtured or cared for, a better example of whatever it is that really lies behind your eyes."
"Is that what you really think?" Helga asked. "This whole 'more than meets the eye' routine? I am what my life has made me."
"I don't believe that, Helga. You may have adapted, but that's not really who you are."
Helga's heart thudded in her chest. How could he possibly see that inside me? "Wish I could tell you who I really am, Arnold. But I'm still figuring that out."
"I think you do know who you are, Helga. Or at least who you want to be. You should listen to yourself more often. That's all I can really tell you right now."
"You're leaving." Helga said, a statement rather than a question.
Arnold nodded. "I. . .have some stuff to figure out myself. This is a lot to think about."
"It's in your eyes, Arnold. You can't hide it from me. You're going to shoot me down. Sad story or not, I'm nothing like Little Miss. . .like Lila."
"I haven't decided anything yet."
"It doesn't matter." Helga looked away. "You have no reason to look my way. And even as I sit here, cold and exposed, I know what my chances are. I'm okay with that." What am I saying?! You're blowing it, Helga old girl!
"Even so, I. . .want to decide how I feel. About a lot of the things you've told me. And about myself. And I still want to know who you are."
I'm the girl that loves you, you Football headed buffoon! Helga slowly climbed out of her bed. Standing on her feet, she stretched, slid into a pair of slippers, and began a slow walk, pulling her bag and its stand with her. "I'm. . .going for a walk, Arnold. I'll see you later."
"Look, Helga, I just don't want to say something to you I'll regret." Arnold explained.
"Funny, and here all I want is to feel something."
"I'm not in love with Lila." Arnold announced.
Helga stopped her movement, intrigued. "I could've told you that."
"What?"
"When you do love someone, you don't have to think about it. You just. . .you know, y'know?"
"And you're in love with me." Arnold followed.
Helga only looked at him. "I'm not going to say it, Football Head, you can try all you like."
"And I'm. . .we're connected, Helga. That I'm certain of. But I don't know what there is between you and me yet.
Hope and fear. Helga sighed. "It's not fair that you know how I feel. Didn't you grandparents teach you not to play with a girl's emotions?" Helga asked, growing frustrated but refusing to feel sorry for herself. She took a few steps in a circle to calm herself down. "Where are you going when you leave here?"
"Home, I guess."
"It must be nice to have a home."
"I like it." Arnold admitted. "But I've seen where you live, it's huge."
"Maybe so, but it's not my home. I don't suppose it ever will be. It's just a place for me to put my crap. That's what you don't get. As frustrating as you're making this conversation, I am home, right now. The only people who really care whether I'm alive or not are in this building. You want to know me better? Fine, here's one more story for you. Once upon a time there was a little girl named Helga whose family forgot about her and who never had any friends of her own. Then one day one person in this world was kind to her, and actually gave her hope that there was some good in this world. Except a lifetime of neglect and fear caused her to betray those feelings in a single act of rage that have made her who she is today. That's who Helga Pataki is, Arnoldo. But you were right about one thing. She is more than her life has made her. And you'll never know or understand that person. No one does. No one will. Now get out of my way."
"Helga, stop! Just wait up a second."
"Why should I?"
"Because I do want to know who you are."
Helga scowled at the boy, feeling more hurt and angry than she had in some time. "Criminey, you annoy me so much sometimes. You want to know who I am, Hair Boy? Fine!" Helga picked her gym bag off of a chair and dropped it over his head, Arnold just barely managed to catch it. "If you want to know who I am, the answers are all in here. Take it!"
"Take it home?"
"Yes! Take it home! Take it to the park! Take it to the café!. But take it and go!"
"I'll come back tomorrow, Helga." Arnold sighed, hefting the bag and heading for the door.
"I'm not going anywhere." She rolled her eyes at him as he left. How she longed for something to crush. Helga burst out into the hallway, stamping towards the Nurse's Station. "Criminey, what's it take to get a little coffee around here?!" Helga yelled as Arnold quickly disappeared around a corner.
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Ten minutes later, Helga was walking down the long hallway with a cup of decaf tea in her hand (the best the nurses would allow her). "Why did I do that?" she asked herself.
"I just wanted him to accept me for who I am. Oh Arnold, can't I just do one thing right?" She thought long and hard about this night. It certainly wasn't anything like she expected. One more reality that couldn't live up to her fantasies.
"I gave him my bag! My locket! My sketch pad! My. . ."the possibility of Arnold going through her toiletries and underwear suddenly seemed infinitely more embarrassing than any of her passion for the boy being exposed. As Helga reached the end of the corridor, pressing her nose against the cool glass and gazing out at the night sky, she noticed her reflection had turned a bright shade of crimson. The very idea, it was scandalous! Yet somehow, the image was also comforting; she found herself feeling very human And then, Helga did something she hadn't done in a very long time. She laughed. Not mockingly. Not derisively. But something pure and whole that came from deep within. Perhaps everything would be all right after all. And as a smile crept across her face that would not fade, Helga Pataki stared out the window and dared to hope.
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What you have just read was nothing short of exhausting for me to write. It is the culmination of over six hours of work, of me sweating over nearly every word, countless rewriting, a very large can of Arizona Iced Tea, and two bottles of Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade. Some twenty-somethings go out to parties on Saturday nights. This one spent the entire thing slaving over a Hey Arnold fanfic. That's dedication!
I've never had to work so hard at one scene before. And even after I've let a few of you see it, I'm still terrified to actually put this thing up. And the story isn't even over yet! But I've come to feel over all these hours that this is the most fragile part of my story, and that every single line of dialogue was another opportunity for me to blow it. But now it's finally finished, and it's time for me to see if it flies on its own or not.
Those of you who write fanfics of your own probably have an idea of how difficult it can be to get things to come out just write. I hope and I pray that I've made this chapter worthy. I've got a great idea to kick off the next one that I'm already going into, and I think you're all going to love that. I had originally intended on forging ahead and including it with this chapter, but then I realized that I'd have no good start for down the road, and also that I'd have to put this one off even longer.
Each and every single one of you have been so kind to my little story. And those of you that take the time to not only read this stuff, but to give me your feedback as well. . .that's what I rush home from work every night to see. I get home a midnight, fire up my computer, hope against hope that the last chapter was a success, and then I find the strength to stay up until half an hour after the sun starts shining, slaving away at The Sweet Hereafter and causing all my online friends to worry that something's happened to me and that they'll never see me again. Or worse yet, that I'll stop writing Awakening (sorry guys, the plugs never stop)!
And as I sit here finishing up these notes, something occurs to me. I've been watching the show for exactly two weeks now. Since that time, not only have I managed to catch a plethora of high quality episodes, but I've also written 23,220 words and racked up what I feel is a quite respectable amount of favorable reviews. And this is what fanfiction is all about. It's being made to feel something. It's passing this story along to you. You guys and girls are what make this story possible. You're feeling something in the words I string together creates this story, binds it, and gives it purpose. Thank you, and if it isn't too much trouble, keep hanging in to the end.
Whew, long notes this time. The old windbag isn't done yet! To satisfy the curiosities of my friends both old and new…
No, "The Sweet Hereafter" will NOT be my only work of HA fanfiction. I intend to finish the story this week. My next HA project will be down the road. I would expect it to be half as long as this one (when it's finished). It's either going to be a Christmas story or a Valentine's story, but I'm not a liberty to say because I just don't know yet. Whatever I do. I expect to write it in its entirety in a short span, much as I'm doing with "Hereafter."
"Awakening: Third Stage" will be back in full-time production following the completion of "The Sweet Hereafter." It will continue to be my flagship title until the time of its completion. If you don't read my "Awakening" series, you'll never know what you're missing. It's true!
And finally, a little chronological clarification on "The Sweet Hereafter," in case anyone is confused. The story takes place AFTER the movie, but BEFORE "The Journal." Hence when Arnold refers to his parents in this chapter, he only knows they're gone somewhere.
There, I think that about covers it. As always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:
Lord Malachite
09/27/04
2:24AM, EST
E-mail:
AIM: Asukaphile26