The Sweet Hereafter: Deliberation
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Part XXV: Shattered Mirror
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"What am I, if I can't be yours?"
--Arianne
"ThanatosIf I Can't Be Yours"
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"I hate looking at myself in a mirror. Whenever I do, I see me as everyone else does, and that's a kick in the keester I really don't need. There are days when I despise this face. I hate not being beautiful. I hate it! I guess it's hard to understand if you're not a girl. Beauty goes a long way to establishing our pecking order. And I'm not beautiful. I'm not even cute. Fortunately, there are other ways of making a name for yourself. I may not be pretty or popular, but everyone knows who I am."
"There's an aura we women of all shapes and sizes supposedly possess, some people call it 'the feminine mystique.' Apparently it's something about us that men are supposed to find fascinating. Something beyond attraction and hormones and. . .whatever it is that turns a boy lovesick. I don't really know what that's about, or how to tap into it, but I'm going to have to make it work for me."
"Nobody really gets me, but I don't have too many complaints since I don't always get myself, either. Love makes you do some crazy, insane things. Things you can't even believe you're doing. I feel like I'm stepping outside myself, watching me behave like a loon. But it's not anything I can help. All common sense fails me wherever Arnold is concerned. He'll never understand how desperate I am to protect him. He is everything this is good in my life made flesh. When he looks at other women the way I want him to look at me. . .no cone could possibly get what that does to me inside. Most people would say it's a simple case of jealousy. I'm not going to deny that. Jealousy plays a large factor. But it pales in comparison to my fear of failure. Failure to make him mine? No, I can live with that. I do everyday. But no one. . .no one! No one can possibly love him the way I can. No one can see him the way I do. And it's the biggest curse I can ever imagine. Too bad Arnold is afflicted with it."
"I'm the one person most suited to him, and he deserves so much better. He deserves someone who doesn't use all the good things about herself as fodder for her worst traits. How can I help but fail him? I can protect him from the ones who won't love him as I do. But who will protect him from me? Sometimes I feel that if I can curl myself into a tight enough ball, I might disappear. Oh, Arnold, where is the perfect woman for your impeccable charms? The one whose beauty rivals fair Aphrodite herself? The one whose compassion is beyond measure? The one who lives to lift you up to the apex of your potential and support you?"
"Can you ever understand the sheer torture I'm going through every day? Why I always lash out at you? There's so much more going on behind these eyes than trying to hide these feelings. I want to be that woman, and every day, I fail. Sometimes before my feet even hit the floor. And then I'm forced to look at myself in the mirror, and I struggle to blink back the tears as I ponder my own weaknesses. Is it so wrong to want to be loved? Doesn't everyone deserve that simplest of pleasures? Of needs? Is it so wrong to want what I can't have? That despite my fear that I'll somehow ruin you, I still beseech some kind of cosmic intervention? Because what am I, if I can't be yours?"
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Part XXVI: Carnations And Carnage
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"Satisfaction is not guaranteed."
--Ferengi Rule Of Acquisition #19
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Helga maneuvered herself down the hallway, heading back towards the elevator, her psychiatrist in tow and what she had come to think of as her leash alongside her. Little time had been wasted in replacing Helga's empty bag with a fresh drip, and she had grown quite tired of the thing. It was always there to snap her bag with a quite painful reminder if she wandered too far without moving it. And since it was taller than her, Helga was beginning to think that the stand was always frowning down at her, standing over her body like a jailer, keeping her from making any sudden moves. Of course, she dismissed such ideas as ridiculous, but it was rather disconcerting to turn around and always see it.
"So, you wanted carnations." Dr. Bliss smiled, curious at her patient's choice of souvenir from the hospital's predictably overpriced gift shop.
"They spoke to me." Helga shrugged.
"Pink and white?"
"It's my style, makes me feel a little more comfortable being here."
"Except they're not for you, and we both know it."
"What are you talking about?" Helga asked, clearly annoyed at being analyzed in the hallway. They arrived at the elevator, and Helga thumbed the call button.
"They're for Arnold, aren't they?" Dr. Bliss persisted, most anxious to see if her hunch played out.
"So what's wrong with giving someone flowers. I mean, I have to do something for him! He's been sitting here every morning because of you, keeping watch over me." The elevator doors opened, and Helga advanced inside, snapping her leash with her in one quick stroke. It caught briefly on the grooved metal on the cusp of the elevator's interest, but Helga was able to jar it free with little difficulty. She pushed the button for her floor and felt slightly nervous at the idea of being in so confined a space with someone who was beginning to understand her better than she understood herself.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Helga. They're just memory triggers." Dr. Bliss explained.
"What?"
"Memory triggers. You've bought a small bouquet of flowers for Arnold, to present to him as a gift. The coloring is matches your favorite outfit, the one he usually sees you in. Ergo, whenever Arnold looks at this bouquet, he'll be forced to think of you."
Helga felt her entire body tense up, and her heartbeat increased. Criminey, how can she be so good?! How can she so casually just rip me open and see what makes me tick?! Is she some kind of alien or something?! "Yeah, so, what of it?" Helga asked, feel routed but not defeated.
"Isn't that what you're supposed to tell me? You want Arnold to think of you. Why?"
"Doi!" Helga rolled her eyes. "I don't have a reason! Think of me good, think of me bad, but think of me! Um, preferably good." Helga added.
"I see. So you just want the attention."
"Who wouldn't?" Helga moaned as the elevator doors opened on the floor. Her left hand was firmly gripping her bouquet, while her right hand seized the post, yanking it outside the elevator. It created a bit of a scene, and Dr. Bliss gave an apologetic look to the people who were waiting to board the now empty elevator.
"Helga, wait!" The psychiatrist called after her.
Helga's expression as she proceeded rapidly down the hallway indicated she wasn't someone to be trifled with. She quickly rounded the corner into her room, setting the flowers on the table beside her bed and jumping into it. She fluffed her pillow and nuzzled it, just wanting to escape into sleep for a brief while and not think about things. Dr. Bliss entered the room moment's later. As she saw Helga lying in the bed, she sighed inwardly, then turned off the lights and closed the door. Maybe a little time out wouldn't be so bad for her after all.
Helga had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but she couldn't stop a small trickle of tears. She blinked her eyes to clear them and kept her eyes shut, determined to make her problems leave her alone, if only for a few minutes. It was with the utmost relief that she drifted into sleep minutes later.
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Arnold would've liked to say that Helga was a peaceful sleeper. Judging from some of the pictures she had drawn or the rhymes that went with them, he knew there was something sweet and unnurtured lying within her somewhere. Arnold mentally took "unconscious" off his list of places to try and find it within the girl. Helga snored loudly, sawing enough wood to likely make her a most unwelcome guest at sleepovers. And she drooled! It was like the complete opposite of fairy tale princess, perhaps that was why she somehow lived up to Arnold's expectations perfectly.
And yet, there was still one feature of her sleeping form that Arnold couldn't help but notice in the sunlight that reflected through the closed curtains. Betwixt her arms, held lovingly to her chest, was the other pillow the bed had to offer. She held the pillow protectively, much like a mother would a newborn child, and Arnold was puzzled yet intrigued by the juxtaposition. Her hair was lying limp and unkempt, and he was certain she probably longed for a shower and some better clothes to wear. Hopefully tomorrow they would turn her loose on the world once more.
Arnold lifted her bag, quietly opening it. He still felt a little embarrassed about actually trying on the girl's pajamas last night. They were a little big for him, and definitely not his color. They also didn't help him understand Helga any better at all. His grandfather hadn't said much to him at breakfast that morning, which made Arnold a little worried he might've been spotted in them while he slept, but if so, it would hopefully remain one of those secrets that no one else ever needed to know about.
Reaching inside the gym bag, Arnold withdrew the golden piece of jewelry that Helga was probably most anxious to get back. He still felt a little guilty. He never had opened it, and he wasn't sure if that made him right for preserving Helga's privacy, or wrong for refusing not to look when she had clearly wanted him to. Whichever the case, Arnold decided that it was too late to debate the matter now. He gently placed the locket on the pillow she held so tightly. Not wanting to disturb her slumber, Arnold quietly slid a chair near the window and sat in the late morning sun. Among the few small puffs of clouds that lined the blue sky, Arnold could see a lightweight plane pass overhead. And as Helga dreamed a little dream that Arnold hoped was pleasant, he allowed his mind to wander the skies, and thought happily of his parents, and a world far away.
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Helga awoke to see the object of her affections watching her peacefully, a pensive look on his face. He's here waiting for me again? I should be so lucky? I'm sure going to miss some of the things about this place. "Arnold?"
"Good morning, Helga." Arnold smiled.
Helga yawned in response. "I just wanted to take a little nap. I had a bit of a rotten morning."
"I hope the rest of your day is better."
"Thanks." Helga's eyebrow furrowed as she spoke. She could taste her breath, never a good sign. "I must look like a mess. I sure feel like one." Helga sighed, turning her head and wiping her chin with the palm of her hand.
"You don't look so bad at all." Arnold reassured her. "You look like you just woke up, yeah, but it's not so bad. Except maybe your hair." Arnold laughed. "Your hair is a train wreck."
"I shouldn't have to take that from you!" Helga pointed a finger at Arnold's trademark unruly hairstyle.
"What?" Arnold asked, confused. "This is how I always look."
Helga pulled on her pigtails, popping the bow off her head and letting her now stringy hair fall all over. "Is that better, Football Head?"
"Definitely an improvement."
Helga lifted herself up to a sitting position. Her eyes did not miss the locket that had been left for her. She felt much better just having it back in her possession. Clearing her throat, she snatched it up and made it disappear somewhere among her person, looking slightly embarrassed but not saying anything about it. "So, should I get used to you waiting for me whenever I wake up?"
"Your parents might object to some strange kid wandering into their home to watch their daughter sleep."
"Miriam wouldn't." Helga spat. "Bob, maybe. Miriam, definitely not. In fact, I doubt she'd even notice you were there." Helga sighed. "Never mind, forget it." She reached over to the flowers she had brought in earlier. "Here, these are for you. A little something for the white knight." She grinned.
"You're the one in the hospital. Shouldn't I be the one bringing you flowers?" Arnold felt a little confused by this role reversal.
"You know me. I try to make everyone's day a little more surreal."
"Congratulations, you've succeeded admirably. I should put these in some water."
"They have those tube things full of water and food on the stem. They'll be fine for the day. What time is it?"
"Quarter after twelve."
"Criminey! Phoebe will be here soon!"
"Mr. Simmons was planning on coming later as well. A bunch of us made you a card at school this week." Arnold explained.
"You all made me a card? All I do is make your lives miserable!"
"Yeah, well, most of the guys still like to be on your team when we play kickball or baseball. You may not be a terribly popular girl at school, Helga, but people don't wish ill of you."
"Yeah, well, some of them don't speak too badly of you either. But they'll have plenty to say about me when I get back to school next week." Helga smirked. "I have a lot of catching up to do."
"Whatever you say, Helga." Arnold chuckled.
"Words to live by, Football Head." Helga joined him in the lighthearted laugh. "So, I see you decided to bring my things back."
"Yeah, they're all here. I wrote some stuff in your notebook, just some comments. I hope you don't mind. I started flipping through it late last night and before I knew it, well, it was late and I was tired. You have a very creative side."
"I try."
"You do more than that, and you know it. You were right about there being a lot about you I don't know. But it's nice to learn more."
"You like my stories, eh?"
"When they're true, Helga."
"They're all true!"
"Even the lies?"
"Especially the lies! But I didn't put any of those in there. A few exaggerations here and their, maybe. But if you'd lived your life as I have, you'd have few qualms about a little embellishment yourself."
"I'd have to take your word for it. I prefer the truth."
"Truth is also subjective. You know that, don't you?"
"Subjective?"
"Sure. If I'm colorblind, and to me, the sky is red, then it's red. That's truth. My truth. It's valid and real to me! Anyway. . ." Helga twiddled her thumbs nervously. "What did you think of the bag?"
"I'm still a little shocked over everything. I mean, I always knew there was more to you than you let on, but."
"I opened the floodgates?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I'd hate for you to be stuck with only one perception of me."
"No chance of that." Arnold reassured her. "Oh, here. I brought us some lunch."
"Must we?" Helga groaned.
"Relax, you'll like it. It should be better than the stuff they've been feeding you in here."
"That's not saying much. I've coughed up better meals." Helga rolled her eyes.
Arnold opened the small, cubic refrigerator that held mainly ice cube trays. He opened the latch on the tiny freezer section and removed two ice cream treats. "I flagged down the Jolly Olly truck before coming. I figured you could use a treat."
"Sounds great, Hair Boy!" Helga exclaimed, her face lighting up. "Bring 'em on!" Helga snatched the treat out of Arnold's hand and tore the rapper off, grateful her brain managed to stay one step ahead of her taste buds. "What the. . .way to go, Football Head!"
"What?" Arnold asked, clearly puzzled that Helga could be annoyed over his gift.
Helga waved the pink ice cream treat in his face. "I'm allergic to strawberries!"
"Oh. Well, you can have mine then. It's just a fudge bar."
"It'll do." They quickly exchanged ice cream bars, and Helga began to devour hers as though it were evidence to be destroyed. "That hit the spot. I guess I'd better go freshen up before the entourage arrives." Helga pushed herself off the bed and began the slow walk to her bathroom. She never heard Arnold come up behind her, pushing her bag and its stand slowly and helping the girl drag it into the bathroom.
"I'll just, uh, wait out here." Arnold said, turning around.
"Oh, right. And I'll just stay in here."
"Okay."
Both Arnold and Helga suddenly found the floor very interesting. Arnold quickly shuffled beyond the door, shutting it behind him. After a moment, he began to hear the sound of a faucet running. Satisfied that Helga could tend to herself, Arnold walked to her bed and set on the edge, picking up the small bouquet of pink and white carnations. And almost on instinct, he began to see a variety of past encounters with the girl all at once. . .
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I'm stopping it there. Always good to end on a cryptic note. Plus, I'm just much more pleased with this outing than the last one. Hopefully my beloved fans of this story will be as well. As for the next chapter. . .I'm hoping it's going to be good. I've already drawn up a scene or two and I like what I've got so far. I'll get it together as quickly as I can. Don't know if it'll be a 24 hour update. I'm on my weekend, now, and I do have a lot of episodes to watch.
You'd be surprised at how much of these chapters just get made up on the spot. I've ended up writing pages and pages that came about just because of one line of dialogue I got in my head. I feel this outing is much stronger than the previous one. Maybe it was the dialogue, I don't know. Someone once told me that "You are the master of dialogue." I'm not going to deny it, I can't write action for crap. That's why I like drama! However, sometimes I like to take the time to write something introspective or descriptive. I feel that as a whole, this story has had some variety, and perhaps that's part of what people like about it. To be honest, I don't really know, I'm just glad that people out there look forward to it, because it gives me a great feeling while writing, even if I'm going through a frustrating stretch.
It's been a long time since I've undertaken a side project, but I've decided I'm willing to give you all something extra if the interest in there. I am thinking about releasing a commentary to each chapter of this story if people are interested. I need to gauge what people think of that, because it is not something I can post here at FFN. I would have to provide it via e-mail or through AIM. I have no problem with doing that, however, I'm not going to take a half hour of my time out for something only two people want to read.
If I do this commentary, the idea is to illustrate where I pulled some ideas from and generally what was going through my mind as I wrote it. Some people may find that very insightful and interesting, others might feel bored by that idea, I don't know. Anyway, I'm asking that if this is something you want to see, tell me. Leave it in a review. Drop me an e-mail. Pass a shout out over AIM. I'm willing to do it if I get at least 5 people interested. Either way, the regular story will be finished, and I won't do more than one chapter of commentary before finishing the main story anyway. Priorities! The beauty of the commentary is that it would have a very minimal impact on my main projects because it's very simple to do.
I know it's becoming a habit, but thanks once again for your continued support. Let's hope this chapter is the proverbial bounce back from the mediocrity of Chapter 9! Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposal, and COMMENTARY demands to:
Lord Malachite
10/01/04
3:22AM, EST
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