Part V – Under/And/Above/The/Surface

When morning came – well, noon, but morning for me - she was gone. Her room was pink and fuzzy in the midday light, her sheets hot and moist against my limbs. My head was pounding. Her door shut tight, I was nervous about her parents discovering me – though I knew I shouldn't be. They would let wild dogs tear her room apart rather than raise an eyebrow to the noise. I wondered if she loved me because we were both orphans, because only I could understand her loneliness.

But I didn't feel so lonely now, even in Helga's empty room. I rose painfully, my muscles groaning, my headache lurching and changing positions as I stood. My eyes wandered bashfully over her things – I saw her red dress, the one she wore to our prom, hanging in her small closet, peeking from behind the half-open door. I remembered that dress – pushed both down and up, pooled functionless around her waist. I remembered her clinging to me, her hands under my shirt, all over my back. I shivered, wished she would return.

I continued to her dresser, searched her accessories in vain for that old pink bow. She didn't have much in the way of girly things – a few eye shadows, an old tube of lipstick. A silver barrette, catching the light from the window in a spot of bright glare. Some origami cranes – gifts from Phoebe, good luck wishes written on them. An old Bush CD, an open pack of gum. Not the sugarless kind that Lila chewed, I noted, not one of the minty flavors that Ruth used to sweeten her breath after smoking. No – a thick pack of Bubblelicious, overflowing with sugar, flavor too sweet, like that first junior high kiss. Helga was the first girl I kissed – in our Romeo and Juliet play, her surprising passion.

I heard a hand on the doorknob and started, but it was only Helga, coming inside. She was wearing a dusty orange summer dress, with white Hawaiian flowers. A honeymoon dress – she seemed happier. Her eyes expanded with relief when she saw me, still inside her room.

" My head hurts," I told her, trying to make a pitiable face. There was so much I had done that begged forgiveness. She walked to me and placed a cool hand on my forehead.

" God," she said, " Its hot in here. Do you want breakfast?" I shook my head.

" I don't feel like chewing," I said earnestly, and she laughed. Her face quickly became serious:

" I told Phoebe," she said. I bit my lip, decided to admit to everything.

" I told Ruth." She slapped me, squarely. I didn't flinch except to turn my head, despite the eager flashes of pain that intensified with the snap of her hand on my cheek. Okay, I was still standing. If that was all she could dole out, I would live.

" Bastard," she said, insincerely, " Go sit down, I'll get you some aspirin." I returned to the bed and watched her fumbling through her purse, heard the pills rattling in their bottle before she found them.

" Its over with Ruth," I decided aloud. " It never really began – I was – confused." Helga snorted with annoyed laughter.

" Excuses like that - you're turning into such a man," she said, trying to hide a smile, " Its horrible." She brought me the pills, and handed me the bottle of Evian that had cooled my forehead the night before. She watched me swallow the medicine – " The sad thing," she said, " Is that you actually believe yourself!" she giggled. I took her hand in mine, and she sat beside me on the bed.

" What are you doing here?" she whispered, " Don't you lead me on. You'll enjoy a slow death, should that happen." She narrowed her eyes, sinister. I rolled mine.

" I'm not planning anything," I told her. It was true. I was playing it by ear, then. She kept her eyes on me, suspicious.

" Why did you stop wearing your ribbon?" I asked, the aspirin slowly beginning to ease my headache. She frowned, put her hand instinctively in her hair.

" Why wouldn't I?" she asked, confused. " I grew up." I laughed without meaning to, and she leaned back on the bed and watched me, puzzled.

" Let's get out of here," I said, quiet, " Let's run away." I felt free for the first time since the pregnancy was revealed – I was free all along, and I was only now realizing it. Realizing – her.

" Elope?" she suggested with a scoff.

" Okay." She rolled her eyes.

" Quit being an idiot," she snapped, playing idly with the hem of her dress.

" Phoebe and I were talking, about being practical, starting to put away money – and we haven't even told my parents, or your grandfather –"

" There's someplace I need to take you," I told her, sitting up suddenly. My headache had dulled to a rolling murmur between my ears – it made the room move slower than normal, my hands pushing through space too quickly. I grabbed her arm and stood, pulling her with me.

" Arnold – stop!" she protested ineffectually – she moved with me toward the window without much resistance. Why did she have to believe that I couldn't see through her – or could I – didn't she want to give into me? We weren't children anymore – when would she stop chasing me around the playground, taunting guiltily? I stopped at the window and she crashed into me; I heard her breath catch.

" Helga, you have to tell me how you feel," I said, letting the stubborn Samaritan of my youth rush forth again – Tell the truth. It's the right thing to do.

" What do you-"

" Pretend that we're pretending we're in love," I said, hoping to at least trick the words out of her.

" But we are pretending!" she insisted, yanking her arm from my grip. I turned around to face her – the terror in her eyes almost made me feel guilty. But there was also a small glint of excitement – the flicker that would lend the explosion – begging me to kick a hole in the dam.

" Says who?" I asked. I puffed my pheromones and dared her to take me on – chided my former self for believing that I had been in love before – love! What was love but this – nonsense, tension, a passing afternoon hangover that tore loose the fabric of the universe as we knew it – love was Helga and only Helga, unexplainable. No pigtails-pulled-tight-over-horns Lila or apathetic Ruth drowned in sheets and wine could touch it.

" Says me!" she returned, frowning. " Quit looking at me like that! What are you talking about? What do you want me to say?"

I laughed. " I love you."

She choked: " You do?" I would have needed a translator, she spoke so silently – but I'd heard Helga cry breathless in my dreams, I knew her language. She grabbed my face and kissed me – an angry, Amazon kiss, it left marks on my cheeks, tears on hers.

I took her to the pool at the old apartment building – it was the only memory I had of my parents: the pool, my father lifting me in and out of the water, my waist bouncing safely under and above the surface. It was the there at the pool, under the makeshift canopy of trees that bloomed a green sky in the summer when I lost them, that I learned to wait. Wait an hour after eating. I remember my mother's disappointing sandwiches, her admonishment, sitting impatient at the edge of the deep-end, my feet hanging in the water. An hour is an eternity for a child, but I learned to wait that summer. It would come in handy later, while I waited forever for a return that never came.

The pool was the only place where I could commune with them – they had no graves, no memorial. I was their memorial, sitting at the always-empty poolside. I had never gotten back in – I was a good boy, I had learned how to wait.

I had never brought another person there, not even my grandfather, no one but Helga on that last day. She was quiet – I didn't tell her my history there, but she sensed the weight of the moment. She stood near the rusting gate and watched me as I stalked toward the deep end. I stood near the 12-foot marker, and looked into the depths of the pool – it was clear but for a few leaves floating on the surface.

" I'll never abandon that baby, Helga," I told her with sincerity, " Not for the lives of a million doomed villagers. For nothing." I took off my shirt, pants, and, after only brief hesitation, my boxers.

" Arnold!" Helga exclaimed, alarmed. Her blush was so palpable I could almost hear it. But I kept my eyes focused on the water, and dove in.

The water was cold, and my nude body balked at the surprise of the chill. I felt the goosebumps surge over my skin, and shivered beneath the water, allowing it to soak into me. Is this what death feels like? I wondered, looking up at the sun's rays, caught above me in gentle folds, rippling with the water. I saw Helga at the edge of the pool, looking down at me. Or is this the way the womb feels? I warmed as I swam underwater, letting the weightlessness take control and push me to the surface. Helga was slipping into the pool with her dress on as I rose.

She swam toward me as I gasped for air, and I studied her look of annoyed determination.

" I'm cold," she complained, " What are we doing?" I only smiled at her and slipped back under the water, touching her leg before turning and swimming toward the shallow end. She ducked under and followed me, grabbed one of my ankles and pulled me back to her. I let myself slide under her, looked up and watched her float above me, her eyes wandering over my naked form. I hoped she understood that I wasn't trying to be seductive – I simply couldn't return to the pool any other way.

I simply couldn't have done this without her.

She grasped my shoulders and pulled me up, above the surface. We broke out of the water together, gulping air, moving easily into each other's arms.

" Arnold," she gushed, letting a smile break across her face – a tidal wave, threatening so long, finally crashed to reveal her naked ocean floors. " What is this? What are you trying to tell me?"

" This is just me," I said, shrugging, " I'm just inviting you in, maybe forever," I told her. I put a hand softly on her stomach, " I mean, its only fair," I said, " I'm already in you forever, aren't I?"

She shook her head, her face twisting mutinously into a sob, " You already were," she cried, pressing her face to my neck, " In me. Forever."

I squeezed her to me and let her cry; I knew it must have been painful, to finally let the words get past her lips. Lifting my face to the tree top umbrella that let the summer sun in only through cracks, I couldn't help smiling at the fact that it was she crying instead of me. My moment – I was back in the pool. I had known I would be able to return to the water someday, but who could have predicted a pregnant Helga crying in my arms?

Life was so ridiculous and perfect, I had to laugh. Helga raised her head and gave me a look, confused. I touched her face, kissed the chlorine and tears from her cheeks. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen then – wet chunks of golden hair stuck awkwardly to her cheeks, her small shoulders pricked with goosebumps, the blush across her nose, those wicked green eyes trying not to look down.

" Marry me," I said easily. I was not afraid of committing to her, even at eighteen – I was already committed, deep inside her – but it wasn't just the accidental melding of our cells that held me to her – how could I leave Helga? What would my life be without my cornerstone bully, my greatest admirer and critic?

" Stop saying that!" she demanded, forcing a laugh and trying to brush her cheeks dry in vain. " I hope you don't think that I'm foolish enough to believe that you're sincere." She scoffed.

" What have we got to lose?" I asked, " Our childhood? That's already gone," I reminded her. She looked up at me, bashful.

" 'What have we got to lose' is no reason to get married, Arnold," she said.

" What IS a reason to get married, then?" I asked, looking around in disbelief, " We're standing in a pool in the middle of the afternoon, I'm naked –"

She giggled – " I can't believe you're naked."

" And here we are and this is our reason," I proclaimed with a nod, speaking completely out of my ass. But I loved her then; I'd never loved anyone so suddenly and fiercely – and any good ole' American boy knows what to do with something he loves – grab it, hold it, own it – get it in writing.

" I can't get married," she said, letting her hands slide off my shoulders and looking away – "I've got to get out of this pool, I'm freezing." She started wading toward the stairs, and I was left, nude, in the middle of the shallow end. I puffed up my chest – my scene couldn't end that way.

" Where will you go?" I shouted, sending a flock of nearby birds into disarray – the beating of their wings make Helga start, and she turned around. " You'll go back to Bob, to Miriam, and we'll be what? A happenstance couple of parents? A mistake some teenagers made – what? Strangers in the supermarket?"

" Stop asking me what we're going to do!" she shouted back, " I don't KNOW what we'll do, but quit laying it on me!"

" You seem to know what we WON'T do, why shouldn't you know what we will do?" I challenged, and I realized this was the way it would always be with the two of us, for better or worse – a heated argument, a silent truce, the passionate, guarded kisses and then repeat. Waves on the rocks – rushing forward only to break. I didn't care. I wanted this contention – love wasn't a wife in the corner with a smile, love was this wild wife on fire in the middle of my sacred pool, making me fight for every docile sentence.

" I don't believe you!" she accused, her eyes growing red again.

" What don't you believe?" I asked, completely understanding her doubt – I hardly believed myself. She shook her head.

" Any of it," she said, " I want to believe you, really, Arnold. But this is just your 'right thing to do' – you don't really want to marry me. So what's the point? What's the point if its not what we want? We're stuck together anyway."

" If we just get married, it will set everything right," I decided in the moment, terrified of my words. She laughed.

" What is this – the fifties? We had sex so we're obligated to get married?" I shook my head – she was missing my point. It was a cosmic responsibility, not a social one. Things were amiss – stars were shooting. The marriage ritual would still the universe.

But Helga was climbing out of the pool, retrieving the towels that we'd fetched from her house before we left. I started toward the stairs – maybe she was right. Maybe I was talking crazy – I felt crazy. I pulled myself out of the water and was instantly chilled by the slight breeze. I remembered in a rush that I was naked, and the act of being so didn't seem quite as profound as it originally had.

I heard Helga's soft "C'mere," and turned to her. She held out the larger towel for me, and I stepped into it, let her pat me dry. Flashbacks of my mother toweling me off after climbing out of the pool flooded in; I grew silent and let her go about her task. She told me tiny, reassuring kindnesses as she worked, moving the towel over my shaking limbs.

" Its not that I don't want to marry you," she murmured, not looking me in the eyes, " I'm just trying to be honest with myself." She moved down to dry my stomach, careful to keep her eyes above my waist. She stepped behind me, dragged the terrycloth over my shoulder blades – I stayed silent, like a stubborn child scolded. " You have a nice back," she said, almost to herself, " Are you okay?"

" Uh-huh."

She sighed, and wrapped the towel around me again, satisfied to let me dry my more tender parts on my own. I sat down on one of the lounge chairs – once white but yellowed from dust and sun. Helga sat beside me, drying her hair with the other towel. She let her hands fall to her lap after a few moments, and chewed her lip, pensive.

" Alright," she said, cracking her knuckles, " I'm going to make my decision now."

" You could do a lot worse than me, in terms of husbands," I said, absently. I felt like I was losing an argument.

" Shut up for a second," she said, politely. She moved to the chair opposite mine, facing me. She cleared her throat, grinned, and then made her face serious.

" May I kiss you?" she asked. I burst into laughter, and bridged the gap between our lips. She responded fervently, and moved closer to me, until she was in my lap. She abandoned my lips and smooched my cheeks and forehead endlessly, giggling.

" I can't believe I tried to turn down a marriage proposal from you – my, my Arnold!" she laughed girlishly and squeezed my shoulders. I smiled and wrapped my arms around her – I'd never seen this, Helga allowing herself to be happy.

" Trust me," I pleaded, " This is what I want."

" This is insane," she persisted, but she was laughing. I pulled my head back and looked her in the eyes:

" Then we're getting married?" I asked, not able to suppress my own laughter – what would Gerald say? And my Grandfather – God! I had lost my mind. I barely remember the feeling I had that day, some effervescent thing that sent me to the alter with Helga – but I think it was wonderful.

She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes: " Okay. Let's do it."

Part Six will be out soon! Thanks for being paitient ^_^ ~Mena