The Sweet Hereafter Chapter 16: You Can Go Home Again, a hey arnold fanfic

The Sweet Hereafter: You Can Go Home Again

Part XXXIV: Observations From The Decline

"Time is the fire in which we burn."

--Delmore Schwartz

"Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day"

I mean no disrespect to the handicapped, but if I had to spend my life confined to a wheelchair, I can't imagine I would live a very long time. Maybe I just couldn't cope with that kind of lifestyle. No maybe about it. I just. . .need some kind of freedom. Olga walks beside me, fretting over me as though I'm an infant. Unbelievable. She goes on and on about how she wants to bond with me, yet she can't seem to grasp how much I value my independence. At least Arnold and Dr. Bliss get that. The doctor, who has admittedly become a trusted counsel, stands quietly at the top of the steps while one of the nurses eases me down the ramp in this contraption. Arnold can be pretty dense sometimes, but he's smart. He knows better than to approach a wounded animal.

So, I'm back, I guess. I'm sitting here in my predictable pink dress, hair pulled out into tails. That's right. I'm dressed to kill. Yet I feel uneasy. Like everything has changed. Only not how I wanted. I'm forced to wonder whether I'm a better person for having gone through this. For having told him. No, that's wrong. I never did tell him. And I never would have. I just slipped up. Used proxies. Anything to avoid saying it to his face. I don't have that kind of courage to do it again. But still, it was real, this time. When I kissed him, I wasn't hiding behind a part, was I?

No, that isn't possible. He was there. I could feel it! His tenderness was there to accept and shelter my vulnerability, that thing underneath everything else that makes me human. Somehow, I don't feel as appalled to show my weaknesses in front of him now. I doubt it will last. Sometimes, when he looks at me, it's as though he's looking for something. He can see right through me far too often. Is that what gives me hope? That despite how I show my affections through cruelty, he knows this isn't how I really am? Maybe all this time, I haven't been chasing a quixotic dream. He's still here. He's still looking after me. Keeping my company. Listening to my crap. Eating my breakfast. Playing with my hair. Drying my tears. Kissing my lips. Have I finally manage to achieve my heart's lone desire?

Something inside of me is trembling. Everything feels sensitive. My toes are curling, and it's as though I'm tingling from the fire in my chest all the way down to my feet. Fear? Anxiety? Anticipation? Excitement? What if I'm looking at a whole new world here? The hours I could spend wrapped around him on a sofa, half-heartedly watching TV. There's a pleasant evening. Especially if it's a couch that Miriam isn't lying behind, passed out. Well, at least she should spend more time conscious with Olga back in town.

I wonder if she's aware that Mom lives vicariously through her? It certainly takes the pressure off of me, but what hurts is that neither of my parents has any faith in my ability to succeed on my own. I'm no sap, but I sure wouldn't mind having just one dinner, as a family, that didn't dissolve into a fight. I'm not a very good daughter. I don't have very good parents. Bob and I tend to view one another as adversaries on our better days. Both of them seem as this gigantic disappointment, and I guess after Olga, I would be. I'm like the Danny Devito character from that "Twins" movie.

But you know what? I'm okay with it. I'm okay with being an accident. I'm okay with being a burden. I'm okay with the constant string of mistakes I make. I'm okay with every step I take in my stupid little life being a steep, uphill struggle. Because despite the premature demise of my childhood, I am continuing to survive and evolve. What I need know is a greater handle on what it is that I'm becoming. I do have help, though. Gotta give Pheebs credit where credit is due. And though I'm not accepting, Arnold tries to understand me, even though I never give him a reason to both. Simmons tries to build me up in my own "special" way, and he means well, irritating as he can be. Dr. Bliss has become something of a very special friend, and she helps to keep my on course. She keeps my secrets just as well as Phoebe. Sometimes I wonder if I remind her of herself, because she can't deny the fact that she has an invested interest in me, moreso than I see with some of the other kids she observes down at P.S. 118. And of course, there's Olga. My nemesis. My would-be protector. It amazes me how much being close to me means to her, yet she still doesn't really understand me at all. Is it because she grew up so differently than I have? That she could never imagine what a cold home our place has become? That my parents never take any notice of me unless it suits their own interests? I guess they aren't the parents she knows. And even though I resent the crap out of her, for some reason, I just can't bring myself to change that. I remember once she told me how she feels that I am a tremendous judge of character. Maybe she's right. What I do know is that if I disillusion her, paint a different picture of the people who raised her, it would destroy something. Curious how I've never really cared about what she feels before. Maybe I'm living through her as well. The lines get so blurry when you're as screwed up as I am. Anyway, all of them together are like my own personal support staff. Personally, I don't like the idea of needing anyone other than myself to survive, but who am I kidding? No one can make it in life on their own. I've tried that before. And I'm happier now. Don't get me wrong, I'm still not happy. But this is better.

I'm at the bottom of the ramp, and I leap out of the wheelchair, running fingers over my wrist just to prove that my IV is gone. The nurse gives me a look that indicates I won't be missed. Don't worry, sister. The feeling is mutual. As the forgettable hospital drone moves off, Olga leans in and squeezes me tightly. My nemesis. My staunchest supporter. It occurs to me that I may never be free of her. Is that that a bad thing? I just don't know anymore. Nothing makes sense like it did before I woke up here.

Extricating myself from the relentless affections of my sister, I turn to see my beloved once again drawn to the comforting lure of the enigmatic Dr. Bliss. Am I really being crazy, or have those two been spending a lot of time together lately? Criminey! What the heck am I, jealous? He's not mine. Much as I wish that would change. What does my psychiatrist have that I don't, anyway? I mean, sure she's a little older and more experienced. And she has one of those faces that make you want to confess your secrets, a voice that reassures you that everything will be okay. Oh yeah, she's also pretty and easygoing. Doi! Forget it, I don't stand a chance.

"What am I supposed to do now, Dr. Bliss?" Arnold asked as he stood just a few steps below Helga's psychiatrist, breathing in the cool afternoon air.

"Well, that's entirely up to you, now isn't it?" The doctor responded. "I've released Helga from my care. I'll still need to see her for the next week or two, but she's an out-patient now. Besides, I think I'm leaving her in pretty good hands."

"I'm sorry about the whole breakfast incident this morning."

"Oh, I think it was pretty harmless. I haven't come across many things that manage to put a smile on Helga Pataki's face, Arnold."

"She was smiling pretty good until Olga came in. When it isn't for a cruel reason. . ."

". . .it's actually rather pretty?" Dr. Bliss finished.

"Well, yeah. She's really not so bad when she isn't acting so mean. She's nice to be around."

"Maybe if you just give her some time, Arnold, then she'll become someone you'll want to be around more often."

"I'd like that. Can I get your advice on something?"

"Certainly."

"Is Helga. . .you know her pretty well, right."

The psychiatrist giggled. "You might say it's in my job description. It's not like I know everything about her, but. . .I try to learn a little more each time we meet. I'm pleased with the progress we've made so far."

"Well, can you tell me. . .is this more what she's really like?"

"Now we're getting somewhere!" The doctor grinned. "Arnold, I think you might know the answer to that better than anyone. I'm not entirely sure if Helga knows who she is, deep down. She's probably doing a lot of soul searching right now, and unfortunately there isn't much that anyone else can do to help her out with that. She has to reach her own conclusions. But if you're looking for some confirmation, I can tell you this. You and that girl have always had a connection. And let me tell you, few people would be happier to see you together in some capacity than I. However, that's something you really have to want for yourselves. You're definitely on the right path, Arnold. It's up to you if you want to stay on it or not, just as much your decision as hers. The good thing is, you have time. Helga has you two taking the scenic route."

Arnold thought about everything she had just told him, nodding his head. She was right. They each had to make their own decisions, but there was time. As Dr. Bliss had put it, they were taking the scenic route. "In a slow car." Arnold added.

"With a flat tire." The doctor chided, giggling.

"Driven by a nun!" Arnold's chuckling had become downright volatile.

"Who is blind!" The both exploded with laughter, practically falling all over each other. It took a good minute for them to settle down, Arnold struggling to regain his composure as he felt Helga's eyes on his back. Clearing his throat, he got a handle on his giggles, only to start up again the instant he looked at Dr. Bliss' face. Both of them took a moment to let the laughter run its course, regaining their composure.

"Thanks a lot, doctor. I'll take good care of her, I promise."

"I don't doubt it." The psychiatrist responded.

Arnold bounded down the steps, stopping just to the left of Olga and earning himself a fierce look from the youngest member of the Pataki clan. Olga clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle of her own. Helga took a much different approach. "And just what did you and the good doctor have to say to each other that was so funny, Football Head?!"

Arnold flashed Helga his best smile and took her right hand in his left. "Road trips."

The cab ride to the Pataki stronghold was tolerable to Helga for two reasons. The first reason was that Olga at least had the foresight to realize that she belonged in the front passenger seat. Her melodious voice still dominated the trip as she vocally rejoiced over the homecoming of her sibling. Helga was sitting directly behind the driver, looking intently out the window and pointedly away from both Olga and Arnold. The boy with the cornflower hair sat quietly, a good deal of his concentration focused on planning his next move. A glance to his left betrayed the trademark scowl that Helga was wearing, visible in her reflection as it bounced off the window. Yet it was her eyes that drew his attention, holding his gaze. They were filled with a deep, innate sadness, and he longed to wonder what force was causing the girl to be filled with such sorrow. As he cast his look downwards towards the section of dingy vinyl seating between them, Arnold laid eyes on the other factor that was helping Helga maintain her composure. She never had let go of his hand.

Part XXXV: Look Homeward, Angel

"We would often be ashamed of our finest actions if the world understood all the motives which produced them."

--Francois de la Rochefoucauld, Maxims

The smell of home hits me in the face like a sucker punch as I step inside. Tabasco is hanging in the air. Miriam must've gone on a binge this afternoon without Olga around. Typical. It's dark and quiet. I can hear the muffled sound of the TV in the background, the only source of light save for what's spilling in from behind us on the street. Olga steps forward, hitting the light switch for the staircase and bathing us all in illumination. I'm looking at these familiar walls and ceilings, but it's as though this is the first time I've seen them. Like I've been in that coma for three years instead of three days. So why does everything smell so familiar?

Arnold's hanging back in the doorway, looking guilty. What could he possibly feel culpable for? Olga turns and smiles at him with the grace of a Greek goddess, inviting my beloved to come in. A beckoning from Olga is all it takes. I've really got to learn how he does that.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Olga asks, twining her hands together as though she's pleading with him. Clever how she does all this like he's even capable of saying no to her. If there is anyone capable of denying Olga, I haven't met them yet. Well, except maybe for me.

"Sure." His grin is far too sheepish, his cheeks are becoming much too rosy. I hope that someday I'm able to do the same thing to him, even once.

"Wunderbar!" Olga lights up with joy. "I'm going to put out such a spread for our special guest and my dear sister! It's going to be my greatest culinary achievement, just you wait and see!"

"Words fail to describe my joy." I muttered under my breath. If Olga heard it, she didn't respond, she just skipped off to the kitchen. With Olga gone, the silence resumed. The sound of the television was still coming out of the living room, random flashes of light hitting the walls. I thought of heading for the couch, but then I realized that probably wasn't the best of ideas. Arnold doesn't need to see my mother passed out. At least Bob isn't here to embarrass me as usual. I don't want to go up to my room, either. Too many secrets lay hidden in the walls. Too many things I could never begin to explain. "Alone again, naturally."

"You're home, Helga." Arnold says. Doi!

"Huzzah. Here's my hero's welcome. You can tell that they really missed me."

Arnold grew quiet. Yeah, that's right. Life isn't all about sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. It's mostly sorrow and pain. We're supposed to use the good experiences in our life to hold on through the bad ones, something for us to cling too. What a crock. I've never been able to do that. When I'm sad, I'm sad. I don't have any room in my heart for pleasant memories. I only have a small store of those to draw from, anyway. I need to be careful, use them wisely.

I walked to the staircase and sat down on the third step from the bottom, facing the foyer and the still open front door. "You can leave, if you want. I'm sure you've got better things to do then spend the few remaining shreds of your weekend here with me." I have got to be the biggest fool in the world right now. If he leaves me here alone, I won't have anything left to anchor me. I feel like I don't even know this place anymore, these people. Don't leave me.

"Not really. Besides, I told your sister that I'd stay for dinner." Okay, God. I guess you really are up there. Feeling generous today, are we? Remind me to send you my Christmas list before I go to bed.

Arnold shuts the door and then climbs the stairs, sitting himself one step above me. "Okay. So, what do you want to do? Believe me, this place is about as exciting as afternoon tea with my granny. Um, you might have to take me at my word on that one." Am I actually smiling?

"Do you want to talk? I know our conversation this morning got cut a little short." A perfect moment in my life cut down at the knees, thank you very much.

"I guess. What did you want to talk about." Yup, that's me. I always have to pretend like I don't know what's going on. Maybe that's how I deal with the reality. Or maybe I'm just a damned fool.

"Us." Arnold responded, ignoring my painfully obvious attempt to deflect the conversation from any delicate topics. Us? He wants to talk about us? Are we even an us yet?

"What's there to talk about? You're Arnold, I'm Helga." Same as it ever was. How I wish that things could be simpler. Why can't we just be a boy and a girl? Oh, right, I wouldn't have any excuses then.

"Aren't we more than that, Helga? Haven't we always been more? All of us? What about Phoebe? Is she just a name to you, or is she a person?"

"Doi, Arnoldo! Of course she's a person!"

"Good. Well, I hope that I am as well."

"On your better days, Football Head."

"Okay, good. So now what? I don't want to worry about what we were before, Helga. What are we now?" How am I supposed to answer that question? Did you ever wake up one day and feel like you have no idea what is going on in your life? Well that's me right now.

"I don't know, Arnold. I don't know anything anymore. I feel like a stranger. Or maybe I just feel like myself and I've forgotten how to tell the difference. Whatever boundaries there are between the different parts of me are all blurry right now." There's really no better way to describe it.

"Well, that's a start. I know I'm glad that I got to know you better. I always thought you were pretty okay when you weren't being so mean. And now that I have a better impression of you. . .it's like when I met you for the first time all over again. And I like you." I feel like my heart is seizing up. All my life I've strived for this. I can wait for your love, if I know that you at least like me. You have no idea how long that thought can keep me alive! Let me know that I'm finally making a difference. I swear I can wait! Just help me keep myself going.

"You're not so bad yourself, Arnold. But don't think I won't deny I ever said that in a court of law."

"That's okay. Just knowing you said it once is enough. And I'm sorry I didn't believe you before, about how it is here for you at home."

"Olga's here." I shrugged, in no mood to discuss the complexities of my relationship with Bob and Miriam. "At least we'll eat well."

"Your sister is really amazing." Arnold smiles. Funny, for some reason, that remark doesn't make me angry at all. I must be getting sick, or something. This just isn't normal. "But she still has nothing on you." I cannot live past that comment. Someone just said that Helga Pataki is better than her older sister. My heart just froze completely. They're going to have to jolt my heart pretty darn good to get me going again. Either that, or carry me out feet first. I've got to stop allowing him to get to me so easily, but my resistance to him is too far down.

"Well, you're probably the only person who believes that, bucko." The heck with it. I lean my heads backwards, and I can see the cobwebs gathering on the ceiling of our neglected staircase. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten Inge fired after all. But then I wouldn't have my needlepoint collection. Or the ability to stab myself in the index finger and not feel a thing. My head hits one of Arnold's knees and I lift myself forward a little. I can feel his eyes studying my hair once more. I really need a shower.

"You should wear your hair down, Helga. It would make it a lot easier to work with." I can feel his fingers running through each of my carefully arranged tails, taking stock of my usual hairdo.

"I keep it up like this so it's not in my face all the time. It would be pretty hard to catch a baseball if I was too busy playing with my hair."

"I guess so, but I still think you should let it down when you can. It's a good look." Criminey it's like his persistence is reaching some kind of critical mass this weekend!

"Well what are you, my hairdresser?"

"No, it's not like that. I just. . .I liked the way you looked before."

"You know I don't apologize for who I am. This is how I like to wear my hair. It's part of my personality."

"I'm not saying you should change who you are." Arnold sighs like I'm disappointing him. "What I mean is, every time I see you change it, like when we were in the school play, or when you took us out to dinner. . .it's looked great. So I just wondered why you don't do more with it?"

"You do realize you're about the last person that should be giving me advice on hairstyle."

"Hey, we're talking about you here, Helga." Oh, sure. Always an angle.

"I'll considerate it." I said, lifting my eyebrow.

"That's all I ask." Sure, Arnold. The scary part is that I'm actually considering it. Or maybe that isn't so scary. Maybe a little change would do me some good. Trouble is, I'm far too set in my ways to cope with change. Still, I'm far gone enough to allow him to keep playing with my tails, a shameless indulgence on my part. But maybe I've earned it. And if not, I'm taking it anyway.

Breakfast wasn't that long ago, it's only quarter to five now. And yet, the way he threads my hair through his fingers is like the welcome caress of a lover from long ago. My eyes are closed, but I can feel how my feet are curled even inside their shows, and I'm silently leaning further and further into the comfort. Half of my mind is scolding me for being so weak and pathetic, but in my head, it gets jumbled up with all my other thoughts. All I can really notice now is his caressing of my hair and his humming of a somehow familiar melody. When I hear his whisper, I open my eyes to find I'm staring at his, although we're in opposite directions. Of course! How could I have forgotten? "She's leaving home after living along for so many years." I hear his very quiet voice offer. Oh, you are clever, bucko. Diabolically clever. He has me right where he wants me. Another thought occurs to me, though. He has me right where I want him to.

Okay, confession time. I've actually been sitting on this update for two days time. I've been trying to avoid releasing it at the same time the conclusion to Jaded Angel's "Dark Salvation" was due out. One thing I've learned after years in the fanfic world is to pick your release dates carefully. Generally I don't like to go up against a story that I consider better than my own, but at this point, it's been a whole week and I just can't put off an update any longer.

Somewhere along the line, this chapter got bigger than I expected. I don't consider that a bad thing. There was so much I wanted to do here, and it looks like my mission was accomplished. Most surprising of all is the realization that my story is now a lot closer to its conclusion than I had anticipated. Perhaps that isn't a bad thing. I know I wouldn't mind getting some of my free time back. Don't get me wrong, I've had just fabulous experiences with writing "The Sweet Hereafter," and I don't think I've ever had a freshman story accepted so handily before. I don't know how I'll ever than you all, especially those of you that have been with me every step of the way, both in reviews and in online support. You know who you are. I'll try to give a proper accounting when I publish the final entry.

It's been a little bit since I did a plug, but I do hope that those of you who are fans of my writing in general are reading both this and my Awakening saga. The reason I push that so hard is because down the road, both will be connected in a very important way. But perhaps I've said too much. Try to trust me on this one!

Okay, I guess I'm getting a little tired to do author's notes. I'm always tired, so what else is new? Sometimes I look back on this story and how it has evolved yet continuously carried my vision over all this time. It seems like ages ago that I released the first chapter, instead of only being six weeks. Where has it all gone? I know the updates have slowed down a little. I'm about at one a week now instead of two or three. That's just my conscious effort to sleep more, and also my own way of trying to make the story last a little longer for those of you who find it enjoyable. Thank you for reading, from the bottom of my heart. Every chapter is like a comeback chapter for me, a chance to prove that I still have it. So far, so good.

I think I'll leave on that note before I say too much and start getting fruit thrown at me. I'm still a review whore though, so give meaning to my stupid little life and let me know what you think of this work!

Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

11/01/04

3:34AM, EST

E-mail: ranger(underscore)writer(at)yahoo(dot)com

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