The Sweet Hereafter: The Healing Process
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Part XXIV: Locked Away
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"Arnold my soul, you are always in my heart."
Love,
Helga G. Pataki"
--Inscription fabled to be engraved within the locket of a fourth grader from P.S. 118
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Arnold frowned at the pile of things laid out before him on the kitchen table. It was late, past ten o'clock when he had returned home. Deciding not to have a big meal, Arnold had put some bread into the toaster and was now trying to unlock the mysteries of the girl he had left behind. He had folded the pair of pink pajamas up and placed them at the bottom of the pile. There were a few more interesting articles that he had rapidly put back into the bag. Besides, he didn't really see how he could learn more about Helga by playing with her socks and. . . .other things. He also saw little need to delve into her bag of toiletries. While it was true that a person's toothbrush could be most revealing, Arnold wasn't about to brush his teeth with Helga's toothbrush. That image felt far too reminiscent of a Hannibal Lecter movie.
The sketchbook looked the most promising, filled with various image and the occasional rhyming couplet. Arnold had given up on trying to count the number of times his image was inside it, but the pad was clearly more than a tribute to himself. Words flowed through the book in a disorganized matter. Occasionally there would be lines that went together, as though part of a larger poem. But mostly, they were individual words, things that hinted at Helga's mental state as she was working on each page. The emotions conveyed ran a large scope, and as Arnold studied the book, he felt like he was finally beginning to understand what kind of person Helga was.
The heart shaped piece of jewelry frightened him a bit. He had seen it before, but now that he knew who its owner was. . .it just seemed a bit unreal. Like last time, it still wouldn't open. Arnold knew there had to be some kind of catch, but decided that the less he messed with the locket, the better. Something inside of it seemed to speak to him, and he knew that if he opened it, he wouldn't be able to unsee whatever lay waiting inside.
There was little else of particular use. Pencils and pens, a small tube of lipstick, which Arnold couldn't really remember the girl ever using, and a key, which presumably opened the door to her home.
"Not much to go on." Arnold sighed. "I can't help but feel I'm missing something here."
"Missing what, Short Man?" Phil asked as he wandered into the kitchen, just in time for the toast to pop up.
"Nothing, Grandpa." Arnold sighed, getting up to tend to his dinner. Placing the toast onto a plate, he retrieved a jar of jelly from the fridge, sat down at the table, and began to spread the topping.
"Sure is a lot of stuff you have here, Arnold. Say, I didn't know you were in the market for pajamas? Not exactly a great color, though--"
"They're not mine, Grandpa." Arnold shook his head. "I brought them home from the hospital. Helga wanted me to take all this stuff with me. She said all the answers I'm looking for are in here. But I don't really get--"
"Hey! You found my locket!" Phil exclaimed with joy, snatching the golden treasure up before his grandson could stop him.
"Grandpa, it's not yours, it belongs to. . .someone else."
"Oh yeah? Well I say finders, keepers!"
"Grandpa. . ." Arnold said with the frustration of a boy who didn't feel much like reasoning with his elder.
"All right then, Arnold." Phil reluctantly placed the trinket back on the table. "What's going on?"
"I was at the hospital, and Helga told me to take her bag home if I wanted to understand her better."
"Is that your little friend with the brown, braided hair and the uncannily sweet disposition? Don't see much of her around."
"No, Grandpa. Helga's quite the opposite."
"Oh!" Phil exclaimed. "You mean the girl with the pink bow and the one eyebrow."
"Yeah."
"Oh, that's right, you like a challenge." Phil mumbled.
"What?" Arnold asked, confused.
"Nothing. So, all this stuff is hers? Hoo boy. Girl caries your picture around with her, Short Man. You know that's trouble. She's probably been stalking you for a long time, waiting to strike like one of the critters you usually see on those nature shows."
The imagery hit Arnold a little close to home. Helga did often behave like a wild animal, proud and fierce and dangerous when cornered. In her current state, she was vulnerable, and Arnold feared that if he said the wrong thing, he might cause her to lash out again, destroying any progress they had made. He had seen, however briefly, a plethora of different sides to the girl. After the night's conversation, Arnold felt as though he and Helga were experiencing some kind of renaissance. As she had reluctantly pointed out, there was always more to her than met the eye. They weren't so different, deep down, he suspected. But the idea of the two of them having much in common, it might come to frighten her. But whatever the case, Arnold already knew that he liked Helga, at least the version who would talk to him like a person instead of hunting him for sport.
"She's not so bad," Arnold smiled, explaining things to Phil. "if she lets you dig a little deeper. But I still don't fully understand her."
"That's how you know she's a woman!" Phil laughed. "Why if I had a wooden nickel for every time Pookie's made me think she's crazy, I'd-"
"It's okay, Grandpa. I guess the truth is, the only person who can truly understand who you are is yourself."
"Maybe you're right about that, Arnold. But if you want to try and figure that girl out, I think you should try and get inside your little problem."
Arnold's eyes scanned the items in front of him, and suddenly a light bulb began to glow warmly in the halls of his oblong head. "Yeah, Grandpa, maybe I will!" Arnold devoured his toast quickly before going up to his room, an idea coming to mind.
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Helga trained her taste buds to ignore the concoction that Hillwood Hospital had the audacity to call scrambled eggs. Breakfast wasn't a meal that Helga frequently partook in anyway. Still, she ingested the food, recognizing the importance of eating. She had to keep her strength up if she wanted to get out of here. The idea of spending another week in this place with nothing to amuse her but daytime television and short visits from Phoebe and Football Head was nearly enough to drive her into a coma all over again.
Helga has just pushed her plate away and had placed on naked foot on the cold floor when the phone began to ring. She immediately glowered at the interruption. "Criminey, who could be—OWWW!" She yelped in pain as her toes smashed into the side of the bed in her effort to reach the phone. Helga seethed as she lunged for the receiver, seizing it in her right hand while massaging her throbbing digits with her left. "This had better be good!"
"Helga?" A quiet voice on the other end of the line asked.
"Oh. Hey Feebs." Helga said, her anger evaporating almost instantly.
"Ohayo gozaimasu."
"Thanks. Um, dozo." Helga wracked her brain for the appropriate response.
"Domo." Phoebe corrected, sounding a little sheepish.
"Whatever. What's up?"
"How are you?"
"Pretty good." Helga said, looking out the far window. "I slept well. Sun's shining. Would be a good day to get out if I weren't trapped in here."
"Rumor has it they're supposed to let you out tomorrow." Phoebe encouraged her friend.
"Yeah. If I'm a good bird and sing the right songs, they'll let me out of my cage." Helga said sarcastically. Phoebe didn't respond to the comment, prompting a mournful sigh from Helga. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. They've been pretty good to me here, except maybe for that nosy head nurse. I feel a lot better after last night. When I woke up this morning, I didn't dread getting out of bed. I don't think I need to tell you how long it's been since I've felt like that." Helga smiled slightly, standing up. Phoebe heard some squeaking as Helga wrestled with the stand her now empty glucose drip was attached to. "Must be something in the food." Helga gripped the base of the phone in her left hand and the stand with her right, cradling the phone's handset between her neck and left shoulder as she plodded her way towards the bathroom. She had to stop every few feet to jiggle some slack out of the phone line and unhook it from a table leg or the foot of her bed. How she longed for a cordless! "I did have a nice dinner last night."
"Anything in particular?" Phoebe asked, still hearing strange noises and beginning to fear that her friend was having trouble.
"They gave me a cut of steak and some mushrooms, with corn and mashed potatoes." Helga continued to struggle with the phone cord, finally managing to get enough slack to maneuver herself to the bathroom door. "Dr. Bliss really went all out. Maybe she heard my complaints about the lunch yesterday. I can't believe that food was from here. Unless it was from the executive wing."
"I'm glad to hear that you're being treated so well Helga." Phoebe beamed. I wouldn't want you to be in a bad environment while you're recovering from your ordeal."
"Ordeal? Phoebe, it was just a mild coma. It wasn't like I was deep down and people had to worry I wouldn't come out. I guess I just needed a little break from life. You know, I needed to take a little time out."
"A three day time out." Phoebe insisted. "I was worried about you, Helga. You're my best friend!"
Helga felt a little bit awkward at her friend's gushing. "Um, thanks. I care about you too."
The girl from Kentucky smiled happily to herself. Helga was rarely open with her emotions for others, unless they happened to be feelings of anger or resentment. Being recognized by Helga was an uncommon event, and Phoebe basked in it, reassured that for all the girl's grandstanding, Helga Pataki appreciated her. "Maybe you'll be treated to another fine dinner tonight."
"Can't say I'll be too picky, as long as the dessert is as good as last night."
"Was it Tira mi sui?" Phoebe asked.
"Not quite. Something much better." Helga smirked.
Phoebe anxiously compiled a list of the better culinary delights in her head, her mind working in a feverish pitch by Helga's silent refusal to give her any more hints. It was that very thought that made her realize she had been approaching this from the wrong angle. "Wait a minute! You're not talking about. . .ice cream?"
"I might have had a little ice cream." Helga remarked, enjoying the cat and mouse game.
"How much?!" Phoebe demanded, an insatiable excitement building up inside her.
"Well, you know me, Phoebe. I don't like to brag. . ."
"You can't say something like that and not tell me the details!" Phoebe paced back and forth."
"Why not?" Helga chuckled. "I don't make you tell me the details about you and Tall Hair Boy." That comment had its desired effect. Helga could almost hear Phoebe's face turning red. She still hadn't figured out what it was those two saw in each other, but Helga didn't feel it was her business, at least not unless her friend ever got hurt. "Oh, okay." Helga agreed to tell her best friend. She took it as a good sign when Phoebe started breathing again. "I did have some ice cream last night. One scoop." Helga revealed as she finally made it to the bathroom door. She leaned against the wall, calling Phoebe's name to no avail. Phoebe had put her phone down and was doing near wind sprints around her room, very energetically happy for Helga. Fortunately, she returned to the phone after a minute or so. Helga didn't mind very much. She couldn't remember anyone ever being so happy for her.
"Oh Helga, that's wonderful! I'm really happy for you! Congratulations."
"Yeah, well, I still haven't figured out if I get seconds or not." Helga explained. "But you know what? I feel great! Except for still being in the hospital and all. So, are you coming down today?"
"Sometime between twelve and one, I think."
"That works. Maybe we could-" Helga turned in the direction of her door and felt the phone cord go taut. It snapped back slightly, pushing her off-balance. In her hast to right herself, Helga dropped the phone which landed on her foot, making a very loud noise and eliciting an even louder yelp from the patient. Helga sank down to the floor to nurse her wounded right foot, only to realize that she was dragging the stand down on to of her. Wide eyed, she thrust her arms above her head in an X formation to keep from being seriously hurt. After the pole crashed into them, she managed to wrap her left hand around it, holding it at an angle as she searched for the receiver. Helga found her voice was as shaky as the hand that held the handset. "Um, Phoebe. I've got a slight problem here. I'll have to call you back." Her eyes darted up to the stand, teetering at its angle. "On second thought, just come by later. I'll be ready." Helga slammed the phone down before she had to explain the embarrassing situation to her friend. She thought about using her handy remote to page a nurse, until she realized that it was back at her bed. Great. I'm a full nine years old and I still need help going to the bathroom. If only Arnold could see me now. Helga felt incredibly relieved when the boy with the cornflower hair didn't follow her cue. "NURSE!" she yelled, realizing there wasn't going to be a better way out of this predicament. "LITTLE HELP HERE?!"
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Half an hour later, Helga had managed to empty her bladder, brush her teeth, and even coax her hair into looking somewhat normal. She now lay in her bed, propped against her pillow and her sheets covering her legs so that she could cross them without putting on a free show. Overall, she felt rather pleased with herself.
"You're looking rather chipper this morning, Helga." Dr. Bliss smiled back at her patient.
"Naturally." Helga smirked. "I'm totally screwed up. And I feel great!"
It took the psychiatrist a moment to realize that the girl wasn't being sarcastic. "Somehow, I don't think 'screwed up' is the clinical term for it, Helga. So tell me, why the high spirits?"
"I don't know, exactly. I mean, I know some of it is last night, but I can tell it's more than that. Last night, I must've spent fifteen minutes laughing at my own reflection. Is that weird?"
"What do you think?" Dr. Bliss passed the question back.
"I think I like who I was last night better than the person I usually am."
"Good, you should go with that. You have to confront your own feelings, Helga. Not just about yourself, or your family, or even Arnold. You have to be at peace with yourself. The conflicts that you put yourself through have been putting you under a lot of stress. You already have enough scrapes and bumps and bruises in your life. There's no need to inflict yourself with others."
"What if that's what I do best?" Helga asked, feeling concerned that she wouldn't be able to keep up this level of happiness.
"Then you need to find a better hobby. And you need to believe in your friends more. Speaking of which, I took the liberty of inviting some to drop by later today."
"Like who?"
"You'll see."
"Dr. Bliss?"
"Yes, Helga?"
"Can we go for a walk? I want to get out of this room for awhile."
"Certainly."
Helga quickly got herself out of the bed, determined to make an important stop before anyone showed up. She had work to do!
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Okay, another chapter done. I'm sorry if this one seems a tad bit weird, this one went through some changes and I just didn't have a good closing paragraph in me. Someday I'll quietly replace it with something better, but in the interest of updating the story, you'll have to live with the "It was late and I was tired" version. You deserve better. But judging from the tremendous response I got for chapter 8, that one was just too hard an act to follow. Some stuff didn't even get included in this one. Anyway, I would expect the next chapter to be much better. If you enjoyed Chapter 8, I expect you'll really enjoy Chapter 10.
Thank you all so very very much for supporting the last chapter! It felt so good to find out that so many people thought so highly of it! It makes me feel bad that I'm following it with this one, because there just isn't nearly as good moments. This one is more transitional. Oh well, you'll get much better next time, I promise!
I shudder to think at how this story has ballooned into something far bigger than it was ever intended to be. It isn't an epic by any means, I can see the end in sight. But I've given off on trying to figure out how many chapters are left. I still hope to finish it this week. Depends on how much stuff comes up in between now and my ending that needs to be addressed. I try to keep it real for my readers and not take literary shortcuts. Even when it creates chapters like this, I try to remain confident that you'll thank me for it later.
Author's Clarification—The book Arnold has is NOT Helga's little pink book with all her poetry. This is one of her notebooks that she frequently doodles and scribbles in. I didn't want to use her poetry book because I figure her privacy was invaded enough already! That, and I probably would've been challenged to write a Helga poem of my own, and…let's just say I didn't want to go there!
Keep the reviews and well wishes coming, and I'll keep the story coming! Thank you all again for some wonderful statements these past few days. None of you will be forgotten when I make my long "special thanks" speech at the end of the story!
Reviews are great! But get to know your author better an e-mail/AIM me too! Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:
Lord Malachite
09/29/04
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