Chapter 5
The pair arrived at Arnold's place shortly after midnight. The apartment Arnold lived in wasn't very big, but it had the essentials, including a spare bedroom, which Arnold stored his paintings. A few paintings by Picasso and Vincent van Gogh hung on the walls in the hallway and in the living room, but none of his own were hanging anywhere. To hang up his own paintings seemed kinda egotistical to Arnold.
"Wow, nice place ya got here, Football Head!" Helga exclaimed. She was still a little fuzzy, having had a wee bit too much wine. She wasn't a complete wreck and not exactly what you would call drunk, but she wasn't exactly sober either. If there was anything she inherited from her mother (besides her golden blonde hair), it was a low tolerance for alcohol. At that point in time, she was the exact definition of the word "tipsy".
"I'll go make us some coffee, okay?" Arnold said, excusing himself to the kitchen. Helga sat on the light blue couch in the living room and looked around. The decor in the room had been done mostly in light and medium hues of blue. There were a few touches of black here and there, and even some slight hues of light yellow in the drapes and such. The floor was wooden and underneath the coffee table, a rectangular rug (patterned with blue and black squares) stretched out. Helga admired a copy of van Gogh's "Starry Night" that hung on a wall adjacent to the small entertainment center to her right. "Arnold must have decorated this place himself. He always was very creative", she said to herself.
Arnold returned a few minutes later carrying two mugs of hot coffee. "I didn't put any cream in your coffee. Is that alright?" Arnold asked, offering a dark blue mug to her. "Sure, that's fine", Helga said, accepting the steaming Java. "I like my coffee black, especially when I'm hammered", she joked, grinning at Arnold as he sipped his coffee from a pine green mug. He grinned back as soon as he swallowed. "You must drink a lotta coffee then."
They laughed over that and conversation progressed naturally. They started off with small talk and eventually wound up talking about the past again.
"And remember that time Gerald passed out in Rhonda's parent's bedroom at that wild party she threw during senior year?" Helga remembered.
"Yeah, and Rhonda forgot he was there!" Arnold hooted.
"And when her parents showed up the next morning, there Gerald was sprawled out in the floor--"
"--in the midst of about twenty Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets--"
"--and over thirty wrapped condoms!"
They both laughed hysterically over that one. "Guess poor Gerald didn't get lucky that night", Helga assumed. Arnold took another sip of coffee and placed the now-empty mug on the coffee table...under a coaster, of course.
"Nope, he sure didn't. He went to the hottest party of the year and all he got was a lecture, a hangover, and grounded for about a month", Arnold answered.
"We, on the other hand, had a pretty damn fantastic time after the party."
"Yeah, we did. We drove to the beach, I told you how gorgeous you looked, we made love under all those stars--"
"I got sand in my crotch! That really sucked", Helga said, making a face of disgust.
"Well, thank you for ruining the moment."
"I didn't think there was a moment to be ruined."
Arnold rolled his eyes and stretched his arms out so that one arm oh-so-casually landed around Helga's shoulders. This time Helga rolled her eyes. "Geez, if you wanted to put your arm around me, why didn't you just say so? No need for all that pretense, Football Head."
"And yet another moment ruined. A new record for you, Helga."
"Meanwhile, I notice your arm is still draped over me."
"What can I say? You're hard to resist."
They continued like that for a few more minutes, each trading witticisms and corny euphemisms until actual conversation resumed. They spent another fifteen minutes or so in the past until Arnold finally got the guts to touch on that sensitive memory they'd both been consciously avoiding.
"Helga, why did we break up?" he asked. Helga chewed her lip nervously for a moment, searching for the right words. "Well…I'm not really sure. I remember we argued all the time, and at one point, you developed kind of a wandering eye and…I don't know, I guess that we just had an unstable relationship. We were just kids at the time."
They sat silently, both seeing in their mind's eye the night of their painful break-up.
(Flashback)
"Arnold, cut the crap, okay? I know you've been screwing around with Lila!" Helga screamed at Arnold. They were sitting in his room at the boarding house. His grandparents (God bless them, they were nearly 100 and still kickin' it) had gone to bed for the evening and most of the boarders had gone out that night. They were virtually alone. "I'm not 'screwing' anyone, Helga! You're the only girl I've been with. Lila is not even in the picture!" Arnold yelled.
"Oh, yeah? Then how come I saw you two making out at her party last week? What was that all about, Football Head?" Helga said, straining to keep her cool, but nonetheless giving into the fury that seethed inside of her. "We were drunk, Helga! DRUNK!" Arnold yelled again, beginning to lose his oddly shaped head. "Oh, whadiya know. Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes who ALWAYS does the right thing no matter what got drunk at a party. Excuuuuse me!" Helga taunted.
"Nobody's perfect. I made a mistake. I kissed her, but I didn't sleep with her. I swear I didn't!" Arnold defended. He reached out to touch her, but she swatted it away and began pacing the room like a caged animal. "Helga, you're the only one for me. I don't want to be with anybody else. That's a promise." Helga stood still for a moment and said nothing. She appeared to be contemplating everything he'd just said.
And she was. At the moment, she was on an emotional roller coaster. She loved Arnold, wanted to believe him, wanted to be his for the rest of her life. That was all she'd wanted since the tender age of four, even if she hadn't been able to understand those feelings way back then. But he had broken her heart. How could she trust him anymore? If you couldn't trust on sweet, nice, decent Arnold, what boy could you trust? She didn't want to be disappointed again, had faced too much of it in the past. Her heart couldn't take much more hurt.
"Helga? Did you hear me?" Arnold asked. Helga snapped out of her trance-like state and focused her vision on Arnold. Sweet, cute Arnold, in his slightly modified yet still boyish blue and green room. She wanted to forget what happened, take him in her arms, and…
And in her mind's eye, she saw herself opening the bedroom door in slow motion, only to find that same Arnold and the school slut herself practically gnawing at each other's faces. Her heart broke all over again at the mere memory of it. Pain soon turned anger, anger turned to rage, and inside of her, something snapped.
"FUCK YOU!" she screamed. Arnold blinked. This was not what he had expected. "I don't give a damn about your fucking promises, 'Arnoldo'! You and you whore Lila can do whatever the hell you please now because I don't give flying fuck!" With that, she ripped off the quartz-crystal promise ring he'd give her just a month ago, threw it at his head, and then stormed out the door. Arnold dodged the free-flying silver and crystal item and followed Helga down the trapdoor stairs.
"Helga, WAIT!" he screamed, but it was too late. She slammed the door and went flying down the street in the direction of her house. Arnold slumped against the wall and sighed. It was over.
For the next week, Helga's answering machine was filled with messages from Arnold. They were deleted. Every note he stuffed in her locker was shredded. Every picture Helga had of him and her together was tossed. Well, except one. The sole survivor of the picture-ditching campaign was a shot of her and Arnold standing in front of her locker. Arnold was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her, and she was holding onto his arms from the front. They were both grinning like they hadn't a care in the world. On the back, Arnold had written, "I love you, Helga. Please tell me you feel the same way. Love always, Arnold" and had passed it to her at lunch. That was the day they first said, "I love you" to each other. Needless to say, she couldn't bring herself to dispose of that particular photo.
(Present time)
They sat quietly, having just relived the awful episode in the past that had caused severe ramifications in their lives. "Wait a second. There's something I've gotta get", Arnold said, getting up from the couch and going into the master bedroom. When he returned, he had his hand clenched and at his side. "Here", he said, sitting down next to her and opening his hand. "This is yours."
Helga couldn't believe it. In his hand was the exact same promise ring that she had chucked at his head on the night of the bedroom. "Wow, you still have it", she said, taking it from his palm. She smiled and slipped it on her finger. Arnold grinned. "I always knew that we'd meet up again. And I figured that I bought it for you, and you should have it back. Even if you did try to assassinate me with it."
They both laughed and looked into each other's eyes. Slowly, their grins dissolved and they found themselves leaning in closer. Helga was so close to Arnold's face that she could hear his quickening breathing and almost swore she could hear his heart pounding until she realized it was hers. Arnold searched Helga's clear blue eyes, trying to read her thoughts. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted almost simultaneously. He knew this was what she wanted.
They met in an open-mouthed and hungry kiss and succumbed to the throes of passion they'd found themselves treading dangerously close to since the moment they'd laid eyes on each other that day.