Famous/Last/Words
" Hello?" My grandfather on the phone, and way too much to say. I wished my grandmother were still alive – I could have explained this to her much more easily. Helga and I were in Jersey, the gross suburban wasteland, in a crumbling Victorian that housed a priest and a bed and breakfast – a convenient combination that was the often and infamous destination of city folk's shotgun weddings.
" Grandpa," I said, my voice cracking strangely. I cleared my throat.
" Arnold!" he said, relieved, " Where've you been, short man? I haven't seen you all day – did you come home last night?
" Grandpa – I'm getting married," I said. Helga, sitting on the stairs in the lobby near the old-fashioned dial phone I was using, flinched.
" Oh boy."
" I'm in love, Gramps, and I - if I don't do this now I'll never-"
" What about college?" he cut me off, never one for BS, " Arnold – have you gotten some young lady in trouble?"
" Um . . . kind of," I toyed with the phone cord, not used to having serious discussions with my grandfather. He seemed at a loss, too – his heaving sigh made me sad – I'd never given him reason to be ashamed of me until now. I looked at Helga and wondered if what happened was all that shameful. The drinking, the pregnancy – sure, but we were making it right, weren't we?
" Come home soon," Grandpa said, " Whatever happens – I have something I have to give to you."
" What is it?"
" Just take care of yourself, short man," was all he would say, " You know I love you very much – and, well, I suppose I'll support any decision you make, no matter how crack-brained!" I laughed.
" Thanks," I said, and we exchanged goodbyes and hung up. I looked to Helga, who made her posture straighter on the stairs. Smiling, I walked over and rested my chin on the banister.
" Are you ready?" I asked her. She let out her breath in a rush. She stood and I noticed she'd changed her dress – a flimsy white number, it hung off of her in awkward places. She grabbed the waistline and yanked it tighter around her.
" The old lady gave it to me," she said, moving self-consciously, " I think its her . . . nightgown." I tried not to laugh, really. She made a face.
" You look beautiful," I told her. She rolled her eyes. But she did. She was standing on the fourth stair – I remember exactly, I remember the whole day like a Nam flashback, brilliant and painful to recall – she was on the fourth stair, with the late afternoon light from the window on the second floor pouring down on her, making that yellow hair gold, catching loose tendrils and turning them neon bright. The floppy nightgown sagged around her small frame, her nervous hands trying in vain to pull it into a neat shape. I reached for her.
" Get over here," I said, and she stepped down until the second stair, then fell into my arms. The feeling I had when she squeezed my shoulders with her shaking hands – it was something fleeting and warm. Reminded me of one of my best moments – sitting in my room one afternoon, bored, watching the sun begin to go down. On a lamppost outside, I thought I could make out the outline of a bird, but with the sun's glare on the window and the steel of the post, I couldn't be sure. I squinted at it for what seemed like quite awhile, trying to figure out if there was indeed a bird there – eventually deciding that there wasn't, that my eyes and the sun were playing tricks on me. And then, just as I was turning away – it took off! The bird, flying off like that – it still felt like something I'd imagined, as if I'd created it there with my mind. It was such a small thing, but so secretly delightful – hard to put your finger on, a perfect moment. That was my moment before the ceremony with Helga in my arms – just that.
We were married in a room full of dusty junk. Several old Coke ads were piled into corners, a crusted, wooden ice cream machine was hidden under an intricately painted piano. The grandmotherly lady who ran the bed and breakfast – the one who loaned Helga the 'dress', sat at the piano and played 'I Could Have Danced All Night' as Helga walked into the room. Since I'd last seen her on the stairs, she'd added some rose buds from the backyard to her hair. She smiled crookedly as she approached the me, the priest standing before us with his Bible open in his hands.
There was something very private and sacred about our little ceremony: the old woman sitting placid at the piano, the dust motes floating past the open windows, the old man droning about our marriage in God, our life in Christ – we simply nodded along, irregardless of our personal lack of religion. He finally asked Helga if she would take my hand in marriage, for better or worse, etc.
When she said, " I do," I knew that she was thinking we'd already seen the worst – there could only be better ahead. He turned to me and asked the same.
" May I say a few words?" I asked. The old man shrugged. We heard the timer go off in the kitchen, and the woman rushed out of the room.
" Louise, we need a witness!" the old man barked. She poked her head back in.
" Let me get the casserole out while he says his piece," she said, " Then call me when its time for 'I do'. That's the part I have to witness, right? I do?" The old man rolled his eyes, and she hurried off. Helga looked at me.
" What is it, Arnold?" she asked. I took her hand and smoothed her skin with my thumb, reassuring.
" I wanted to say that this reminds me of Terminator," I said, and her eyes widened, confused. " No, no listen," I said, when the old man eyed me doubtfully.
" Remember when, when Sara and the guy – I forget his name – are in the hotel room, and they just – well, they have everything piled on top of them, and they're afraid they won't survive, but – but it doesn't matter. They just love each other, and its so sudden, but its so real."
" It's not so sudden," Helga piped up, her voice small, " He had loved her for years, remember? Ever since Jon showed him Sara's picture. He carried it around with him – he looked at it all the time – it kept him real, gave him hope."
I nodded slowly as I realized she was right – and I realized what I'd been to her. A beckon – a dream of the future. But was this the future she'd dreamt of? This dingy room full of knick-knacks – glass molded bluebirds staring at us from atop an old television set - or did she envision champagne, an elaborate gown, a Cathedral, hundreds of loved ones watching with baited breath?
" It was their secret," I said, squeezing her hands, " There in that hotel room – it was so quiet, and short. But it was theirs, their moment. And it changed everything. Her pregnancy changed everything – all from that tiny moment they took comfort in each other-"
The old man cleared his throat. Helga and I were both in tears – we looked at the old man, then back at each other, broke out of the moment, and giggled.
" Sorry," I said. He sighed.
" I've married a lot of teenage couples," he said, his weary eyes speaking more of it than his words, " I've heard them quote from every cartoon, movie and video game imaginable. Its alright. Shall we continue?" Helga and I nodded.
" Now then," said our makeshift priest, " Do you, Arnold, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?"
" I d-"
" Wait - LOUISE!" the old man shouted, " He's saying it!"
" He's saying it!" Helga chimed in, a huge grin on her face.
" What?" she shouted back, and we heard something clamor to the kitchen floor.
" HE'S SAYING 'I DO'!" Helga and the old man both shouted, to Louise's 'Oh!'. She came trotting back into the room – Helga was nearly collapsing with laughter at this point, and I couldn't help joining her, despite my solemn vows.
" Let's hear it, then," Louise said, smiling from the doorway.
" I do," I said, and Helga leapt into my arms.
" Then by the powers vested in me by the state of New Jersey," the old man said, " Not to mention the Newark First Episcopal Church – I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may – well – there you go."
We were already kissing.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
We had quite expected to be invited to eat dinner with Louise and her husband – but instead of being led into the kitchen, where the casserole sat finished on the table, we were escorted to our honeymoon suite. It was as cluttered as the living room downstairs, but in a cozier way – flowers that matched the ones in Helga's hair rested in tiny vases on the bedside table and the sink in the small bathroom – old books sat stacked on the dresser, lace curtains covered the window, a worn quilt was draped across the bed.
Helga and I were starving. The first thing we did was order a pizza. Then we raided the bowl of Andes mints that Louise had placed on the dresser. Sitting on the bed unwrapping the mini candies, a surprising layer of thick nervousness settled over the room.
" Heh," Helga said, not looking at me, " We're married." I giggled, and then she did the same. It felt like we'd gotten away with something – skipped school to smoke dope – we were giddy, laughing every time we looked at each other.
" When are you going to tell your parents?" I asked, and she groaned and got up off the bed.
" Oh, let's not talk about that on our wedding night. Let's get down to basics," she said, lifting the bottom of the nightgown, " I've got to get this thing off of me," I heard, muttered through the cloth as she pulled it over her head. She tossed it on the ground and then threw her arms out, looking at me.
" This," she said, " Is Helga Pataki in her underwear," she spun around. " Get used to it," she demanded, and then, " Are you terrified?"
" No," I lied. I couldn't get used to the idea of Helga showing me her true colors. Her true colors – white cotton underwear with faded blue stripes, a beige colored bra with a tiny bow on the front, hanging halfway off. I thought of Ruth's zebra stripes and slippery satin, and decided I much preferred this.
" You've already seen mine," I said, beginning to undo the buttons on my collar shirt.
" Oh," she snorted, " I've seen everything." I grinned. I couldn't believe the proposal and the pool had all happened just the same morning – it seemed like that day had lasted for several weeks. But not in a negative, tiring way – in an enchanting way that defied time.
" Well, here you go again," I said, pulling off the shirt. Helga kneeled on the floor and helped me with my shoes and socks. Off came the pants and the boxers, and my cheeks flushed as red as the roses in her hair. It wasn't the same when I was out of water.
" There you have it," I said, trying to sit comfortably on the bed. Helga's cheeks were red, too. She chewed her lip.
" This is too weird," she decided. I felt irritated with this assessment at first – but,
" I know."
" Let's get under the covers," she suggested.
" Right!" I said, bounding for them enthusiastically, " One step at a time." I crawled beneath the soft, jersey sheets, resplendent in their protection. Helga slid in beside me, touched my shoulder for a moment, then sank down to the pillows.
" Do you want to . . .?" she trailed off, unable to form the words. Well, okay. One step at a time.
" God, do I!" I said, my voice sounding oddly guttural. I climbed on top of her, and heard her breath catch. I paused, tilting my head.
" I mean – you do, don't you?" I asked her, just to be sure.
" Of course I do!" she said, reaching up and pulling me down onto her, " I mean – we have once already, right?"
" Right!"
" So what's the – you know?"
" I don't know," I said, " Let me show you something neat."
" Okay."
" Arch your back a little." She did as I asked. I snaked my hand back and found her bra strap, struggled to undo it with one hand.
" You need some help?" she asked after a few minutes.
" No, no, I can do it-"
" Shouldn't you use both hands?" she asked, clearly uncomfortable as my chin jutted into her neck while I worked on the strap.
" No, the whole point is to do it with one," I told her stubbornly.
She groaned as I continued to struggle. " C'mon Arnold-"
" Just give me a second, Helga!" I snapped, furiously groping at the mysterious hooks and clasps. None of Lila's bras were this hard. And Ruth, being the liberated woman that she was, had always taken hers off on her own – I was grossly out of practice.
" Arnold, this is ridiculous, just let me-"
" Hold still!"
" No! Dammit, I –"
" Helga!"
" Arnold!"
We both started laughing at once, until I had collapsed on top of her, exhasted from struggling with the bra. I finally lifted my head, and looked down at her as she giggled. She looked up at me, bit her lip, and I bent to kiss her.
There was a tremendous knock on the door, and we both jumped and rolled away from each other, as if getting caught in bed together would get us in trouble.
" Your pizza's here!" the old man shouted from the other side of the door. We were silent as his footsteps receded back down the hallway. And then we started laughing again, so hard that it was a wonder we were able to get dressed.
We retrieved our pizza and paid the delivery boy, trotted back up to our room – this time remembering to lock the door. Sitting on our marriage bed, we scarfed an entire large pepperoni-lover's pie. I pushed the box onto the floor when we were done, and we both fell back onto to the pillows – spent.
" That was good," Helga finally said, patting her stomach.
" Umm-hmm," I agreed, " I admire a woman who can finish her half of a pizza."
" Well," she said, turning toward me and leaning on her elbow, " I had some help." She gestured toward her occupied tummy.
" Ah, yes," I said, lifting her shirt and tracing patterns on her bare stomach.
" Does he ever – kick or anything?" I asked timidly.
" So the baby is a 'he' all of a sudden?" she said with a wink, " And no, Arnold. He – or she – is not even two months old yet. Just a clump of cells with a heartbeat. Leg-less so far."
" Yuck!" I said, wrinkling my nose at her, " Don't call him leg-less!"
" Well he is," she said. " Its called prenatal development, Arnoldo. Legs don't happen overnight. And anyway, I'm proud of our baby's humble beginnings. He's got his heartbeat, and that's all I'm to ask of him so far, or so says my doctor."
I was quiet for a moment, tracing words on her stomach. F-A-T-H-E-R, and then M-E, and finally, A-R-N-O-L-D, to be more specific.
" Can we go to the doctor tomorrow and get another sonogram?" I asked her. We had already had one, but that was after only two weeks, and it didn't have much personality. I had a sudden urge to see my baby.
" Sure," she said, smiling, " But don't you want to keep the sex a surprise?"
" Oh, I dunno," I said, lying back and putting my arms behind my head,
" Gotta have enough time to think up good names before he – or she – is born."
" True," she said, " Its totally creepy when people don't immediately name their children after they're born – if you don't have a name, its like you're not real or something! You're just this anonymous . . ." she trailed off. " You're certainly into the idea of the baby all of a sudden," she said, picking at a loose thread in the bedspread. " What brought this on?"
" What do you mean?" I asked, frowning, " I've always been into the baby." I realized as soon as I said this that it was a tremendous lie, and wondered myself why I was suddenly so – well, not terrified, not like before.
" Its just –" she said, still not looking at me, " Before, anytime I said anything about the pregnancy, you turned blue and looked like you'd be sick." She giggled nervously.
I touched her chin and turned her face toward mine, " This is me taking responsibility for my life," I told her, " And it feels great – like the first sure step I've taken in months."
" Is that all you're doing?" she asked quietly, looking away again, " Taking responsibility?" I groaned and rubbed my forehead.
" Helga!" I said, " What do I have to do – beyond marrying you – to prove that I love you? That I want to spend my life with you?"
She sat up and looked down at me indignantly. " I don't know!" she cried,
" Some-thing!" I jerked upright and grabbed her arms, looked her in the eyes.
" Do you want me to say it?" I asked, fed up with her doubts about me, " Do you have to hear it out loud? Alright, Helga – as corny as it may sound, I think it was fate. Our meeting in that bathroom that night – in the, inebriated state we were in, and everything that followed – yes, it was an awkward way to fall together, but how else would it have happened? I think it had to happen this way. It was our destiny."
She stared at me for a good ten seconds, and then burst into laughter. Aghast, I watched as she actually rolled on the bed in hilarity.
" WHAT?" I demanded, embarrassed.
" That was," she said, gasping in loud chortles, " SO cheesy!" she curled into a ball again, laughing.
" Oh, for God's sake!" I said, hurt, climbing off the bed, " I don't have to take this," I grumbled. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back.
" No, Arnold, wait," she said, smiling and touching my face, " It was sincere. That's what's important. And its what I believe, too – just, I dunno. It sounded . . ." she snorted, " Funny. Out loud."
" Geez," I muttered, my pride stamped on. " I was just trying to get you to – take me seriously." At this, she broke into laughter again.
" Sorry, sorry!" she said, trying to make her face serious. " Don't be mad at me, football head," she said, her childhood nickname for me turning strangely seductive and making my blood boil in all the best places. " I love you."
I smiled. It was the first time she'd said it.
" I know," I said, scooting closer to her on the bed – our noses touched.
She gasped and pretended to be offended, " How long have you known?" she whispered, " My big secret."
" Ever since . . . I had a heartbeat," I bluffed with a grin. Helga reached out and placed a hand over my heart, pursed her lips.
" Oh, yeah," she said, " Smart guy? I'll have you know that I didn't love you from the womb."
" No?"
She shook her head. " I remember the exact moment you had me," she said, " It was when . . ." she looked up at me. I raised an eyebrow, brought my hand up and traced the curve of her neatly plucked eyebrows, her cheekbone, her jaw.
" When?" I whispered. I already knew the answer.
" You gave me your umbrella," she said, her voice small, her eyes locked on mine.
" Famous last words," I said, remembering when she last spoke them – right before we made love.
Would she always speak those words before we fell together? Would we remember our own humble beginnings each time we were in each other's arms? Our track record so far indicated yes – for the second time, Helga's words sent us crumbling into an embrace.
You gave me your umbrella.
This, our second time, was different. It was slow, gentle - a toe in the bath water first, then a leg, finally all the sensitive middle parts, until there was nothing to be afraid of – just sliding into warmth. After all the mindless trysts with Ruth, searching for something her cold walls couldn't give me, I couldn't stop tears from streaking my cheeks when I finally found my comfort in Helga.
" How could I forget this?" I whispered when we were through, lying entwined under that old quilt, the last, dark orange parts of the sunset sinking outside past the lace curtains.
" Shhhh," Helga said, wiping away what was left of my tears. " You didn't forget," she said, quiet, kissing me softly, " Its in you, somewhere."
She was right – our baby's conception, that blurred night in Rhonda's bathroom – it wasn't the most romantic encounter, but it was still the night we found each other, in our own screwed up way. And it had implanted something intangible in me just as it had physically in her – a nostalgia for her, a pang that sent me looking for her in everything, struggling to get back to what had slipped away – my place in Helga's arms. I smiled at her, found her hands under the covers and brought them to my lips, kissed them repeatedly. She laughed.
" What?" she asked, searching my eyes.
" I'm happy," I told her, squeezing her smaller hands inside of mine. She giggled.
" Oh no," she said, tut-tutting, " You'll jinx us."
" Ha," I said, shaking my head, " Nothing can touch this."
God, I was in for a surprise. I want to go back and slap myself awake, tell the naïve teenager I was to stay alert – that the fates are a cruel, cruel force.
But I believed then that we were safe. And in that single moment, of course we were. Drifting into sleep in each other's arms. Finally, finally.
Best night of my life. And, exhausted, I wasted the whole thing sleeping. If only I'd have known. I would have stayed awake, watched my new wife sleeping. But how the hell was I to know that it would be my last chance?
Part seven coming soon! Thank you for all the positive feedback! ~ Mena ^_^