Well, once again y'all spoil me with the reviews, so once again it's
time to update. Herewith find chapter 16. Several of y'all have asked
similar questions, so I'll try to get the most frequently asked one or two
out of the way here. The previous chapter was not original; it was an
adaptation of Job chapter 3. It's the beginning of the poetry section of
the Bible. I'm glad that no one was offended; at least, no one has
indicated such, yet. I reiterate that I was not trying to proselytize,
although I could think of worse things than someone reading it and being
inspired to read more of the Bible. I'm reminded of what the moderator of a
mailing list to which I subscribe said in an interview with himself. (long
story) Yes, I'm a BAC (Born Again Christian); I'm also a Baptist and a
Fundamentalist. I'm also far from perfect, in my Christian walk or in
general. I will be happy to discuss this matter, in private, with anyone
who may be interested; but that's all I'm going to say about it here. What
he said about himself, I pretty much say the same, including not being
perfect; an example of the latter imo is my allowing even implications of
profanity in this chapter, as y'all will see. I still have a limited
tolerance for angst, but methinks I'm getting better at it. I'll venture to
say that y'all will need a box of tissue to read this chapter. One more
thing: y'all know I'm not a Lila hater; I'm also not an Olga hater, as
y'all will see here. I believe there's the potential for any person to be
portrayed sympathetically and I've taken the idea of so portraying two
chars so generally hated by the HA! fan community as a challenge.
Now to the reviews. I count 15 this time around, wow! I dunno what to say but thanks, thank y'all. And I continue to try to answer all of them, as y'all can see:
Dramagirl, thank you. Obviously I didn't make up that poem; I just changed the occasional he to she, etc.
Ms. Prongs, thank you. I agree. I'm glad you don't take offense. And I am keeping an eye on Nick, which pretty much goes without saying.
J.T., thanks. I'm glad you love the Bible. I'm currently reading through Job in my annual read through the Bible and, well, I can see how you'd like it. Arnold will comfort Helga --- he starts to here --- but first there's the matter of bringing her to the point of accepting comfort, which I hope I accomplish here.
jc, thanks. Here's that update already.
Houkanno Yuuhou, thanks for that. I agree about Psalm 139, especially the 'fearfully & wonderfully made' part, which pretty much describes Helga. Yeah, "Seeing With Open Eyes", I really should get back to actually reading some of the other fics on here, especially considering that so many authors have been kind enough to review my fics.
kit-funk, thanks, here's more.
Shmeilia Rockie, thank you. It could be considered art, I suppose. If Andy Warhol could basically trace soup cans and call it art... Ooh, On Bended Knee, Boys II Men, 1994, lol. Here's more.
JESS, thanks. Again, without trying to proselytize, I hope that changes. Yes, it's a Bible she has there, as you will see. Special significance, you know. Yes, it was important that Arnold hear her at a vulnerable time and so be intrigued to help her. You'll see.
Ivory, see above. Thanks for reviewing.
Roxynomekop1288, thank you. And thanks for the IMs.
zali, I continue to be amazed at the nice things people say about my writings. Printing copies for your friends to read? I am now officially flattered. I do try to make it believable, keep the chars in char, etc. Thanks to you and yours.
Anoriel, thanks. Yes, it is impressive.
F-Mari, thank you. Like I said, I try for realism.
Bee, THANKS THANKS THANKS.
Ryoko-Onee, thanks, I agree, & here it is.
Hey Arnold! is created, copyrighted, & / or owned by Craig Bartlett, Snee-Oosh, & / or Nickelodeon, which in turn is owned by Viacom. And I don't think there's a copyright on the Bible, but if there is I've made it obvious where I use references to That.
"Helga?"
"ULP!" One head shot up in record time, eyes as large as dinner plates.
"Helga?"
Helga said nothing; she just sat there, frozen. Then, slowly, her head swiveled in the direction of the voice, that calm, caring voice she had come to know and love and hate all at the same time. She stopped when her gaze fell on the one she knew was there, the source of the voice that kept calling to her. Arnold.
"Helga?"
"Oh. My." Followed by a piercing scream. One of those screams that could be heard blocks away.
Such was indeed the case. Beyond the other end of the park, Phoebe and Gerald stopped momentarily.
"Did you just hear something, Gerald?"
"Nope."
Back at the scream of the crime, Arnold picked himself up from where he'd been flattened by the force of the noise. He was almost in time to step in the path of Helga, who was running as fast as her lower body could carry her.
However, she didn't get far. As she passed a small break in the bushes she tripped. If Arnold had thought to look at the right time and place, he might have seen a hand snake back into the break; but he didn't, so Brainy's presence remained undetected. Arnold had more pressing concerns, like the now prone form of--
"Helga!" He was at her side in 3.5 seconds; of course, he didn't have that far to run. "Helga, are you all right?" He was met with a moan for his efforts. Undeterred, he turned her over and did whatever occurred to him that might help her to revive. Rubbing her face, her hands, light taps, he even did something he'd never done before: removed his sweater. The reason for this was that it was the nearest thing at hand that could furnish a makeshift pillow for Helga's head; Arnold thought she might need for her head to be elevated.
When she came to, the first sight that met her eyes was a sea of orange squares. The second sight was just above it, a concerned football- shaped head with yellow tufts of hair above it. "Arnold?"
"I'm here, Helga."
He was there, but she wasn't, not quite. In computer terms, her mind was in safe mode. Running on automatic, she searched for something to talk about. She didn't have far to look; there was a topic directly above her. "Where's your sweater?"
"It's under your head."
"Oh." In an effort to confirm his statement, she turned her head to look underneath itself. "Ow. So it is." Her gaze returned to him. "Think I can count the number of times I've seen that on one hand." Although this is the first time I've seen it that you've known about, she thought but didn't say. "So it really is a shirt. What, do you shop at the Big & Tall store?"
"So you still have your sense of humor. That's a good sign."
"Yeah, good ol' fun-loving Helga." She looked him in the eyes; she could see she wasn't fooling him. "What are you doing here?"
"To be honest, I don't know. I was goofing around with Gerald, and then Phoebe comes up and wants to borrow him. Then I start wandering, and the next thing I know I'm here."
She closed her eyes. "How long?"
"Since just before you started on Job chapter 3."
"GROAN!"
"It's all right; I won't tell anyone."
"Is that what you said to Iggy?"
You know that was uncalled for was the first thing that came to his mind. It would have come tumbling out his mouth in jig time, were it not for memories of the previous day: That person is in pain, and needs your help but will not admit it. Then, he knew what he had to do, or at least he thought he knew. "It won't work, Helga."
"Wha? What won't work?"
"Your insulting me, yelling at me, trying to drive me away."
"You think that's what I'm trying to do?"
"Yes. So," he changed the subject before she could respond to that, "Why are you out here reading the Bible?"
"Are you going to turn me in to the ACLU?"
"You know I would never do that, even if I thought they had a case, which I don't."
"You never know; it is a public park." She said this while accepting his outstretched hand accompanying his offer to help her up. She noticed him putting his sweater back on. "You're going to wear that after I've been lying on it?"
"It's still good."
Then she got another look at it. "It's covered with grass stains."
"It's had worse."
"Such as?"
"Paint, pudding,..."
"All right, you've made your point."
All this time, they'd been walking back to the table. Helga, thinking quickly with at least one part of her brain, cut in front of Arnold so he wouldn't see her gathering the books and slipping them under the arm opposite the side of her he was on. "Family Bible; I need to get it back in one piece." she explained.
Arnold took it in stride as was his wont; he extended a hand in front of them, a mute invitation for a stroll. Helga accepted.
Close by, Brainy followed them. He'd had practically his entire life to prepare for this, and managed to stay out of sight, always finding something behind which to hide, or keeping far enough behind them to not be seen. So far, so good, he thought. Now don't blow this, Arnold.
Just on the other side of the blond couple, a Big Sis and her Little Sis were exploring the local avian life. Or at least Olga was. While she was waxing rhapsodic about the blue-beaked yellow-bellied grosbeak or whatever, Lila was looking in the opposite direction, camera at the ready. A break, and for a split second, there they were. It was Showtime.
"Oh, Olga, I'm oh so certain I see your sister over there."
"Helga? It is her! Hey, baby sis--" but Olga got no farther than that as Lila pulled her down. "Lila?"
"I'm sorry, Olga, but I'm ever so certain she'd rather be alone. If you'll look closely, I think you will agree with me." Lila was not used to doing such things as she found herself doing, but under Brainy's tutelage over the previous week, she had learned quickly, and had even found herself enjoying the activity.
The two of them walked along in silence, observing as Arnold again tried to open conversation.
"So?"
"So what?"
"Why were you reading one of the most depressing chapters in the Bible?"
"Possibly the most depressing chapter this side of Ecclesiastes."
"What about on the other side of Ecclesiastes?"
"That would be Lamentations."
"Okkay. So?"
"If you must know, it's a tradition I have. Every year I come out here on my birthday and--"
"Wait, today's your birthday?"
"No, I have this tradition I just do on my birthday and I thought today would be a good day to do it just for the heck of it."
"Sorry."
"And don't you DARE wish me a happy birthday!"
"All right, whatever you say."
"That's right, whatever I--" She trailed off. This was beginning to sound familiar to her, too familiar. Again, she went silent.
And again, Arnold kept the conversation going. "So on your birthday you come out here and read one of the most depressing pieces of literature in existence."
"That's right." A smile crossed her face. "You kind of remind me of the second verse of the next chapter; it's kind of funny, really."
"I think we could use something funny about now. What does it say?"
"'If we assay to commune with thee, wilt thou be grieved? But who can withhold himself from speaking?'"
"Meaning?"
"In your case it means you realize it probably won't do you any good to try to cheer me up, but you're going to try anyway."
"Do you mind?"
"Hey, you wouldn't be Arnold if you didn't try."
"I'm glad you give your permission."
"Whoa, don't get an attitude on me."
"Just kidding, Helga."
"Oh, whew ."
"So..."
"It's at this time of year that I want to be reassured that there has been someone who's been worse off than me, okkay? And I'm not too sure that he even was."
"What are you talking about? I've heard the story of Job; he was covered head to toe in boils, even his best friends kept accusing him, he lost all his possessions, his family--"
"At least he had a family to lose."
From her spot a few yards away, Olga was aghast. All of this was news to her, to say the very least. "What? What does she mean, 'At least he had a family'?"
"I'm ever so certain we're about to find out, Olga."
"What? Helga, you have a family!"
"If that's what you want to call it. A lame mom, a blowhard dad, and a perfect sister. Sometimes I wish I were an only child and an orphan."
"I couldn't recommend it." Arnold intoned darkly, his eyelids at half- mast.
That brought Helga up short; they both stopped. "Oh, Arnold, I'm sorry--"
"It's all right; I know you didn't mean anything toward me. You've insulted me about a lot of things, but never about my family situation." To reassure her, he took her hand.
"I don't understand. What does she mean? She doesn't want a family? And did you hear what she called Mummy and Daddy?"
"Yes, Olga, I'm all too certain I did."
"Lila, I'm so sorry that you had to hear this."
"I'm oh so certain I wish this didn't have to happen either, Olga. I suppose this has been building inside of Helga for some time."
It was at this point that the situation crystallized in Helga's mind. She'd been running on auto-pilot all this time, but now it finally registered. Arnold. He was here. He'd heard her, found out one of her secrets. He'd cared for her, used his omnipresent sweater as a pillow for her. He was talking with her, listening to her, and now, he was holding her hand?
It was too much for her. She could feel herself going goofy, hear the sigh, see the expression on her face in her mind's eye. Subconsciously, she was loving this; at the same time, that other part --- the part that had to be in control of her emotions at all times --- was sending a signal that was not to be denied. She had to end this, NOW! Automatically, her other hand started to rise.
In the bushes, Brainy took in what was happening with a growing sense of dread. He knew the signs, he'd seen it thousands of times. She was sighing, with a goofy expression on her face. Next she would slap herself in the face as soon as Arnold was distracted, and then turn mean again. And another opportunity, this one the best that would ever come along, would be lost. "Oh no you don't, Helga. Not this time." His hand dove into his pants and produced a straw and a piece of paper.
"Say, is that Pigeon Man over there?"
"Where?"
For a split second, Arnold looked away. That, to Helga's subconscious, was the signal. Her hand was now above her waist.
The paper in his mouth, rapidly reaching a state of sufficient saturation. The straw in his hand, held to his mouth, at the ready.
Her hand now at face level, it swung a bit to the side, the better to achieve sufficient force to slap her into her senses.
PFWOO!
Across Helga, on toward Arnold. Direct hit on his chest. Now he'd been brought to his senses, finely honed over the years to give an automatic reaction. His head swung around, the words "Cut it out!" on his lips. Where they died at the sight before him. Helga, about to slap herself.
Her hand went down...
His hand came up...
And met her wrist, bringing her lower arm to a stop not two inches from her face.
Helga opened her eyes in shock. There had been no impact with her face; moreover, there was Arnold still, literally holding hands with her. He had stopped her!
"Why did Arnold grab her wrist?"
"You know Arnold?"
"Yes, I've tutored him a time or two. Why did he grab her wrist like that?"
"I'm oh-so-sure she was about to slap herself, and he stopped that."
"But why-ever would she do that?"
"sigh I have an unfunny feeling we're about to find out."
"Helga, were you about to slap yourself in the face?"
"Let go, Arnold."
"Why were you about to slap yourself in the face?"
"None of your business! Now let go!"
"Why were you about to slap yourself in the face, Helga?"
"Let go of me, Arnold. You're hurting me!"
"I am not and you know it; I am stopping you from hurting yourself. Now why were you about to slap yourself in the face?"
"I must go to her-- wha?"
Olga was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder; apparently, even though it had been years since Pleasantville, Lila had kept herself in her previous hard-working farm girl condition, and then some. Olga now looked into Lila's face, which shook from side to side.
"Why aren't you letting me to go my sister, Lila?"
"Because something is happening here which we should not interrupt."
"But you heard her; he's hurting her!"
"Olga, I know Arnold. He's the nicest, kindest, gentlest person I've ever known and could never bring himself to hurt anyone. She's just trying to get away from him."
"Why?"
"Well, from what I've been able to hear, she's hiding something and doesn't want him to find it out."
"SIGH! Oh, Helga, SOB ... Whatever are we to do, Lila?"
"I don't know of anything we can do but watch and listen."
............... "Lila?"
"Yes, Olga?"
"Why have you been recording this on that camera?"
"Why were you about to slap yourself in the face, Helga?"
Helga panicked; with an effort, she wrenched herself from Arnold's grip and again ran as fast as her lower body could carry her.
And again she tripped on something that a second later wasn't there.
"Helga!"
"Olga, he'll take care of her."
Again, Arnold was at her side. "Helga!"
"Lemme alone, football-head!"
"I can't do that, Helga."
"Yes you can."
"Helga, please, let me help you."
"Stay out of this, it's none of your business."
But he didn't stay out of it. As he helped her up, again, he continued the friendly persuasion. "Helga, I know you want me to think you're a mean bully, but I know that's not all that you are. I know that you can be nice sometimes. You proved it when you found my hat, you proved it in those things you've done for Phoebe, you proved it at the beach, and you proved it on Sunday. You helped me then; please, let me help you now."
"Ooohhhh, sigh Just take it out of what I owe you. Now would you just go away and leave me alone?"
"You don't need to be alone right now."
"Oh, so now you know what I need?"
"You need a friend. I would like to be that friend. Would you let me?"
She looked at him, a good, long look. His kind, caring, open, honest face. Those green eyes, such a perfect mix of emerald and jade. That expression of concern, of friendship, of eternal hope. In every word he didn't say, he was telling her that even though he might be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, there was room there for her problems too, and he wanted to add them to his burden. What? Now he was hugging her! It was too much. In the words of that '70's song, it was like he'd found her letters and read each one out loud, killing her softly with his song. And it was working; she could feel her inner resolve start to crumble. It couldn't, he couldn't know, not yet! Not like this! She had to resist.
She pushed away from him. "No! Leave me alone! Why would I want to be friends with a geek bait of an orphan boy like you?"
Fire flashed in those emerald-jade eyes. For a little, almost nothing, he would have been willing to sell his introduction to Helga on the open market then and there. But those words kept coming back to him:
That person is in pain, and needs your help but will not admit it. Those words would not leave him alone.
"Is that the best you can do?"
She struggled. "Arnold, leave it alone."
"I can't do that."
"You don't want to go there."
"I have no choice. My friend is hurting and won't let me help her."
He called me his friend! resounded joyously through her mind, and was immediately swallowed up. "Arnold, I'm serious. You're playing with fire."
"So I'll wear asbestos."
"You'll get cancer."
"So I'll get cancer, mesothelioma, whatever; I'll take that chance. Please, Helga. Please, let me help you." And with that he again started to embrace her in friendship and comfort.
She was on the brink, but the bully in her was not finished yet. It still had one card to play, and was determined to put everything it had on the table. Her hands balled into fists. This was the last thing she had ever wanted to do, but it was the last thing preventing her from spilling her guts. She set her teeth to allay the trembling that was still manifest in her arms, and then, Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers went into play on Arnold's back.
"D it Arnold, I said to GO AWAY & LEAVE ME ALONE!!! Take your d good intentions and your wanting to f help and get OUTTA HERE!! Where does a d orphan like you get off, what gives you the right to try to interfere in my personal life and try to change every--thing? You think you can just come in and turn my whole world upside-down? To h with you, d it!" And then she got rude.
Arnold said nothing; he just maintained his hug and absorbed the blows physical and verbal, saying nothing, the occasional tear streaking his face. If someone had told him even five minutes previously that he would find himself in this situation, he would have shrugged it off with a "whatever you say", but would not have believed. But every step along the way, he had become progressively ensnared in Helga's emotions. The more she tried to cover it up or shoo him off, the more convinced he became that whatever was inside her was a toxic substance, poisoning her inner being; something which, for her sake, had to come out.
By now the fists had slowed but not stopped, the words were dissolving, right about -- "I HATE MY LIFE!!!" -- now. That was the terrible climax of Helga's negative passion; terrible, but necessary. And then, the tears. It was the closest Helga had ever allowed herself to come to falling apart. Being a Pataki --- although not Olga --- she had always striven to remain in control of her emotions at all times. But not now. Now her control was in a nosedive, her emotional state in a tailspin. Finally, the fists stilled; instead of hitting Arnold's back, they were clinging to it, grabbing hold anew with each heave, each wheeze into and out of her lungs. Helga was literally hanging on to him for dear life.
The assault on his back halted, Arnold held Helga, letting her cry. To soothe her, he ran his hands up and down her back in consolation. "There, there, just let it out, Helga; let it all out."
The lachrymal paroxysm continued, equaling any emotional display Olga had ever put on. When she found her voice, it was somewhat the worse for wear. "Dit Arnold, why do you have to be so, so, so Arnold?"
Silence.
"With your helpfulness and your goody-goody do-goody dreaming and your optimism. Don't you know the world stinks?"
A sigh escaped him before he started to respond. "Yes, Helga. I know. But I can't let that affect how I live my life. I need to make things better, you know that. You say the world stinks? So I'll get some air freshener."
Helga had to laugh at that, despite everything. "And clean it up one piece at a time?"
"Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, Helga."
Now it was her turn for silence.
"I can feel the anger in you, Helga, the hurt. If you don't let anyone help you you'll just make it harder on yourself, and you'll have to live with the unhappiness."
That brought a faint & fleeting smile to Helga's face. "That's almost exactly what Inga said the last time I saw her."
He nodded, then waited. "You've come this far; I'd say you've already committed yourself."
That rueful grin again. "I'd say I should commit myself, and my whole family while I'm at it."
Arnold said nothing; he only gave her a reassuring smile and patiently waited.
That was it; Arnold had finally cleared the dam and would not be denied. Although this had been one of those moments for which she'd been waiting, it had also been one of those moments she'd been dreading. "You might want to take a seat, football-head; it's a long story." He did so, joined by her on the ground.
And so it started. Helga opened to Arnold a story of sorrow. It was a story of an ogre, a brute who seemed to live by the motto 'the protruding emotion will be hammered down'. It was a story of a woman who could care but chose not to, choosing to drown herself mentally, keeping herself in a 'smoothie'-induced stupor. The whole thing caused Arnold to grieve for her internally. He might not have considered Helga's parents to be the best, but he had imagined only a fraction of what she now told him.
Over in the bushes, Brainy took in the story --- most of which he already knew --- with mixed emotions. While he knew that Helga needed to go through this, the experience was causing even him to cry. "It's for her own good, for her health, for her safety." he kept telling himself. "It's like sweating out a fever, cutting out an infection, it has to be done for her to survive." He knew that he was saying the truth, that this was the only way she could possibly start to heal; but that didn't make it any easier for him to watch.
On the other side, the scene was even more waterlogged; the tears were flowing thick and fast. All the time that her sister had struggled with Arnold, had fought him, had fallen apart; Olga had been hovering on the edge herself. And now, hearing the family dirty laundry that she had always known but repressed, she was starting to lose it. Lila had a finger poised over the signal button on the walkie-talkie which would cue Brainy to play the grunge in distraction, but it didn't seem necessary as Helga was preoccupied with her own problems.
Olga had changed; her Mary Sunshine persona had dissolved into the tears that were around her feet. Every word she heard her sister say about 'Mummy & Daddy' stung worse than any slap in the face ever could. She had known these things, most of them. But she had chosen to ignore the faults in her parents and focus on their good qualities which they exhibited once in a blue moon, especially to her. This was nothing new for Olga; she had, after all, completely caved in to the pressure to succeed and become everything her father had ever wanted her to be.
I have to perform all the time like some kind of wind-up doll, she remembered her own words to her sister. But the worst, for her, was yet to come.
"And then there's Ooolll-ga!"
"What's wrong with your sister?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all! She's perfect, even more perfect than Lila. You have no idea what it is to constantly be in the shadow of someone who's a combination of Martha Stewart, Marilyn Vos Savant, Yo Yo Ma and Miss America. And let's not forget she's the perfect daughter. I know I'll never forget, and I have tried. I'm constantly being compared to her and found wanting; she's always been held up as an example. Every mistake I make it's 'this would never have happened to Olga'. You've been in our house; you must have seen the trophy room. It's only wall to wall Olga. They even keep calling me 'Olga'. There's just two daughters; you'd think they could keep us straight, but nooooo, not Big Bob Pataki! He's always calling me 'Olga', either that or 'the girl'...
There was more, much more, but Olga heard no more; at that point she'd had enough. She couldn't listen to these truths anymore. Blind from her tears, she ran. And ran. And ran. She didn't know where she was running, and she didn't care. Perhaps she was trying to run away from the truth; she wouldn't have known even had she cared to think about it. And despite her best efforts, the truth continued to intrude on the house of cards in her mind.
It was there all the time, the signs were all there, she was trying to tell me...
"...so you can get out of bed and prance around the house like Mary Sunshine again. You can go back to being the Golden Child and go ahead and tell Mom & Dad what I did so they'll reward you and punish me like they always do."
"You think you're getting to know me, but you don't know the first thing about me. You think spending a lot of time together is making us closer, but it's not. The truth is, Olga, I can't stand you."
"But Helga, I still don't understand. If I get on that plane and go to Alaska to teach desperate and underprivileged Inuit children, how will that ever make us closer to each other?"
"Olga, I know it might not make much sense to you now, but trust me; the farther away you are from me, the closer we'll be."
"Hey, what are sisters for?"
"I don't know!"
"Hey what are sisters for?"
"I don't know!"
"Hey, what are sisters for?"
"I don't know! ...-on't know! ...-on't know! ...-on't know! ...-on't know!"
Those unhappy memories persisted, haunting her. Letting her know, again and again, that she had failed. She had failed her sister. She was the older sister; she was supposed to have looked out for her.
"Oh, Helga, what have we done? GREAT GOD IN HEAVEN, WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?"
And she collapsed in the grass, downed in a torrent of tears.
To be continued, obviously. Although this doesn't technically count as a cliffhanger, hopefully. If y'all have wiped the tears away now (I'm conceited, aren't I?), y'all can expect the next chapter when y'all see it. Anyone who wants to contact me, I'm Nftnat, on IM I'm Nftnat, & on e-mail I'm nftnataol.com . Cy'all.
Now to the reviews. I count 15 this time around, wow! I dunno what to say but thanks, thank y'all. And I continue to try to answer all of them, as y'all can see:
Dramagirl, thank you. Obviously I didn't make up that poem; I just changed the occasional he to she, etc.
Ms. Prongs, thank you. I agree. I'm glad you don't take offense. And I am keeping an eye on Nick, which pretty much goes without saying.
J.T., thanks. I'm glad you love the Bible. I'm currently reading through Job in my annual read through the Bible and, well, I can see how you'd like it. Arnold will comfort Helga --- he starts to here --- but first there's the matter of bringing her to the point of accepting comfort, which I hope I accomplish here.
jc, thanks. Here's that update already.
Houkanno Yuuhou, thanks for that. I agree about Psalm 139, especially the 'fearfully & wonderfully made' part, which pretty much describes Helga. Yeah, "Seeing With Open Eyes", I really should get back to actually reading some of the other fics on here, especially considering that so many authors have been kind enough to review my fics.
kit-funk, thanks, here's more.
Shmeilia Rockie, thank you. It could be considered art, I suppose. If Andy Warhol could basically trace soup cans and call it art... Ooh, On Bended Knee, Boys II Men, 1994, lol. Here's more.
JESS, thanks. Again, without trying to proselytize, I hope that changes. Yes, it's a Bible she has there, as you will see. Special significance, you know. Yes, it was important that Arnold hear her at a vulnerable time and so be intrigued to help her. You'll see.
Ivory, see above. Thanks for reviewing.
Roxynomekop1288, thank you. And thanks for the IMs.
zali, I continue to be amazed at the nice things people say about my writings. Printing copies for your friends to read? I am now officially flattered. I do try to make it believable, keep the chars in char, etc. Thanks to you and yours.
Anoriel, thanks. Yes, it is impressive.
F-Mari, thank you. Like I said, I try for realism.
Bee, THANKS THANKS THANKS.
Ryoko-Onee, thanks, I agree, & here it is.
Hey Arnold! is created, copyrighted, & / or owned by Craig Bartlett, Snee-Oosh, & / or Nickelodeon, which in turn is owned by Viacom. And I don't think there's a copyright on the Bible, but if there is I've made it obvious where I use references to That.
"Helga?"
"ULP!" One head shot up in record time, eyes as large as dinner plates.
"Helga?"
Helga said nothing; she just sat there, frozen. Then, slowly, her head swiveled in the direction of the voice, that calm, caring voice she had come to know and love and hate all at the same time. She stopped when her gaze fell on the one she knew was there, the source of the voice that kept calling to her. Arnold.
"Helga?"
"Oh. My." Followed by a piercing scream. One of those screams that could be heard blocks away.
Such was indeed the case. Beyond the other end of the park, Phoebe and Gerald stopped momentarily.
"Did you just hear something, Gerald?"
"Nope."
Back at the scream of the crime, Arnold picked himself up from where he'd been flattened by the force of the noise. He was almost in time to step in the path of Helga, who was running as fast as her lower body could carry her.
However, she didn't get far. As she passed a small break in the bushes she tripped. If Arnold had thought to look at the right time and place, he might have seen a hand snake back into the break; but he didn't, so Brainy's presence remained undetected. Arnold had more pressing concerns, like the now prone form of--
"Helga!" He was at her side in 3.5 seconds; of course, he didn't have that far to run. "Helga, are you all right?" He was met with a moan for his efforts. Undeterred, he turned her over and did whatever occurred to him that might help her to revive. Rubbing her face, her hands, light taps, he even did something he'd never done before: removed his sweater. The reason for this was that it was the nearest thing at hand that could furnish a makeshift pillow for Helga's head; Arnold thought she might need for her head to be elevated.
When she came to, the first sight that met her eyes was a sea of orange squares. The second sight was just above it, a concerned football- shaped head with yellow tufts of hair above it. "Arnold?"
"I'm here, Helga."
He was there, but she wasn't, not quite. In computer terms, her mind was in safe mode. Running on automatic, she searched for something to talk about. She didn't have far to look; there was a topic directly above her. "Where's your sweater?"
"It's under your head."
"Oh." In an effort to confirm his statement, she turned her head to look underneath itself. "Ow. So it is." Her gaze returned to him. "Think I can count the number of times I've seen that on one hand." Although this is the first time I've seen it that you've known about, she thought but didn't say. "So it really is a shirt. What, do you shop at the Big & Tall store?"
"So you still have your sense of humor. That's a good sign."
"Yeah, good ol' fun-loving Helga." She looked him in the eyes; she could see she wasn't fooling him. "What are you doing here?"
"To be honest, I don't know. I was goofing around with Gerald, and then Phoebe comes up and wants to borrow him. Then I start wandering, and the next thing I know I'm here."
She closed her eyes. "How long?"
"Since just before you started on Job chapter 3."
"GROAN!"
"It's all right; I won't tell anyone."
"Is that what you said to Iggy?"
You know that was uncalled for was the first thing that came to his mind. It would have come tumbling out his mouth in jig time, were it not for memories of the previous day: That person is in pain, and needs your help but will not admit it. Then, he knew what he had to do, or at least he thought he knew. "It won't work, Helga."
"Wha? What won't work?"
"Your insulting me, yelling at me, trying to drive me away."
"You think that's what I'm trying to do?"
"Yes. So," he changed the subject before she could respond to that, "Why are you out here reading the Bible?"
"Are you going to turn me in to the ACLU?"
"You know I would never do that, even if I thought they had a case, which I don't."
"You never know; it is a public park." She said this while accepting his outstretched hand accompanying his offer to help her up. She noticed him putting his sweater back on. "You're going to wear that after I've been lying on it?"
"It's still good."
Then she got another look at it. "It's covered with grass stains."
"It's had worse."
"Such as?"
"Paint, pudding,..."
"All right, you've made your point."
All this time, they'd been walking back to the table. Helga, thinking quickly with at least one part of her brain, cut in front of Arnold so he wouldn't see her gathering the books and slipping them under the arm opposite the side of her he was on. "Family Bible; I need to get it back in one piece." she explained.
Arnold took it in stride as was his wont; he extended a hand in front of them, a mute invitation for a stroll. Helga accepted.
Close by, Brainy followed them. He'd had practically his entire life to prepare for this, and managed to stay out of sight, always finding something behind which to hide, or keeping far enough behind them to not be seen. So far, so good, he thought. Now don't blow this, Arnold.
Just on the other side of the blond couple, a Big Sis and her Little Sis were exploring the local avian life. Or at least Olga was. While she was waxing rhapsodic about the blue-beaked yellow-bellied grosbeak or whatever, Lila was looking in the opposite direction, camera at the ready. A break, and for a split second, there they were. It was Showtime.
"Oh, Olga, I'm oh so certain I see your sister over there."
"Helga? It is her! Hey, baby sis--" but Olga got no farther than that as Lila pulled her down. "Lila?"
"I'm sorry, Olga, but I'm ever so certain she'd rather be alone. If you'll look closely, I think you will agree with me." Lila was not used to doing such things as she found herself doing, but under Brainy's tutelage over the previous week, she had learned quickly, and had even found herself enjoying the activity.
The two of them walked along in silence, observing as Arnold again tried to open conversation.
"So?"
"So what?"
"Why were you reading one of the most depressing chapters in the Bible?"
"Possibly the most depressing chapter this side of Ecclesiastes."
"What about on the other side of Ecclesiastes?"
"That would be Lamentations."
"Okkay. So?"
"If you must know, it's a tradition I have. Every year I come out here on my birthday and--"
"Wait, today's your birthday?"
"No, I have this tradition I just do on my birthday and I thought today would be a good day to do it just for the heck of it."
"Sorry."
"And don't you DARE wish me a happy birthday!"
"All right, whatever you say."
"That's right, whatever I--" She trailed off. This was beginning to sound familiar to her, too familiar. Again, she went silent.
And again, Arnold kept the conversation going. "So on your birthday you come out here and read one of the most depressing pieces of literature in existence."
"That's right." A smile crossed her face. "You kind of remind me of the second verse of the next chapter; it's kind of funny, really."
"I think we could use something funny about now. What does it say?"
"'If we assay to commune with thee, wilt thou be grieved? But who can withhold himself from speaking?'"
"Meaning?"
"In your case it means you realize it probably won't do you any good to try to cheer me up, but you're going to try anyway."
"Do you mind?"
"Hey, you wouldn't be Arnold if you didn't try."
"I'm glad you give your permission."
"Whoa, don't get an attitude on me."
"Just kidding, Helga."
"Oh, whew ."
"So..."
"It's at this time of year that I want to be reassured that there has been someone who's been worse off than me, okkay? And I'm not too sure that he even was."
"What are you talking about? I've heard the story of Job; he was covered head to toe in boils, even his best friends kept accusing him, he lost all his possessions, his family--"
"At least he had a family to lose."
From her spot a few yards away, Olga was aghast. All of this was news to her, to say the very least. "What? What does she mean, 'At least he had a family'?"
"I'm ever so certain we're about to find out, Olga."
"What? Helga, you have a family!"
"If that's what you want to call it. A lame mom, a blowhard dad, and a perfect sister. Sometimes I wish I were an only child and an orphan."
"I couldn't recommend it." Arnold intoned darkly, his eyelids at half- mast.
That brought Helga up short; they both stopped. "Oh, Arnold, I'm sorry--"
"It's all right; I know you didn't mean anything toward me. You've insulted me about a lot of things, but never about my family situation." To reassure her, he took her hand.
"I don't understand. What does she mean? She doesn't want a family? And did you hear what she called Mummy and Daddy?"
"Yes, Olga, I'm all too certain I did."
"Lila, I'm so sorry that you had to hear this."
"I'm oh so certain I wish this didn't have to happen either, Olga. I suppose this has been building inside of Helga for some time."
It was at this point that the situation crystallized in Helga's mind. She'd been running on auto-pilot all this time, but now it finally registered. Arnold. He was here. He'd heard her, found out one of her secrets. He'd cared for her, used his omnipresent sweater as a pillow for her. He was talking with her, listening to her, and now, he was holding her hand?
It was too much for her. She could feel herself going goofy, hear the sigh, see the expression on her face in her mind's eye. Subconsciously, she was loving this; at the same time, that other part --- the part that had to be in control of her emotions at all times --- was sending a signal that was not to be denied. She had to end this, NOW! Automatically, her other hand started to rise.
In the bushes, Brainy took in what was happening with a growing sense of dread. He knew the signs, he'd seen it thousands of times. She was sighing, with a goofy expression on her face. Next she would slap herself in the face as soon as Arnold was distracted, and then turn mean again. And another opportunity, this one the best that would ever come along, would be lost. "Oh no you don't, Helga. Not this time." His hand dove into his pants and produced a straw and a piece of paper.
"Say, is that Pigeon Man over there?"
"Where?"
For a split second, Arnold looked away. That, to Helga's subconscious, was the signal. Her hand was now above her waist.
The paper in his mouth, rapidly reaching a state of sufficient saturation. The straw in his hand, held to his mouth, at the ready.
Her hand now at face level, it swung a bit to the side, the better to achieve sufficient force to slap her into her senses.
PFWOO!
Across Helga, on toward Arnold. Direct hit on his chest. Now he'd been brought to his senses, finely honed over the years to give an automatic reaction. His head swung around, the words "Cut it out!" on his lips. Where they died at the sight before him. Helga, about to slap herself.
Her hand went down...
His hand came up...
And met her wrist, bringing her lower arm to a stop not two inches from her face.
Helga opened her eyes in shock. There had been no impact with her face; moreover, there was Arnold still, literally holding hands with her. He had stopped her!
"Why did Arnold grab her wrist?"
"You know Arnold?"
"Yes, I've tutored him a time or two. Why did he grab her wrist like that?"
"I'm oh-so-sure she was about to slap herself, and he stopped that."
"But why-ever would she do that?"
"sigh I have an unfunny feeling we're about to find out."
"Helga, were you about to slap yourself in the face?"
"Let go, Arnold."
"Why were you about to slap yourself in the face?"
"None of your business! Now let go!"
"Why were you about to slap yourself in the face, Helga?"
"Let go of me, Arnold. You're hurting me!"
"I am not and you know it; I am stopping you from hurting yourself. Now why were you about to slap yourself in the face?"
"I must go to her-- wha?"
Olga was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder; apparently, even though it had been years since Pleasantville, Lila had kept herself in her previous hard-working farm girl condition, and then some. Olga now looked into Lila's face, which shook from side to side.
"Why aren't you letting me to go my sister, Lila?"
"Because something is happening here which we should not interrupt."
"But you heard her; he's hurting her!"
"Olga, I know Arnold. He's the nicest, kindest, gentlest person I've ever known and could never bring himself to hurt anyone. She's just trying to get away from him."
"Why?"
"Well, from what I've been able to hear, she's hiding something and doesn't want him to find it out."
"SIGH! Oh, Helga, SOB ... Whatever are we to do, Lila?"
"I don't know of anything we can do but watch and listen."
............... "Lila?"
"Yes, Olga?"
"Why have you been recording this on that camera?"
"Why were you about to slap yourself in the face, Helga?"
Helga panicked; with an effort, she wrenched herself from Arnold's grip and again ran as fast as her lower body could carry her.
And again she tripped on something that a second later wasn't there.
"Helga!"
"Olga, he'll take care of her."
Again, Arnold was at her side. "Helga!"
"Lemme alone, football-head!"
"I can't do that, Helga."
"Yes you can."
"Helga, please, let me help you."
"Stay out of this, it's none of your business."
But he didn't stay out of it. As he helped her up, again, he continued the friendly persuasion. "Helga, I know you want me to think you're a mean bully, but I know that's not all that you are. I know that you can be nice sometimes. You proved it when you found my hat, you proved it in those things you've done for Phoebe, you proved it at the beach, and you proved it on Sunday. You helped me then; please, let me help you now."
"Ooohhhh, sigh Just take it out of what I owe you. Now would you just go away and leave me alone?"
"You don't need to be alone right now."
"Oh, so now you know what I need?"
"You need a friend. I would like to be that friend. Would you let me?"
She looked at him, a good, long look. His kind, caring, open, honest face. Those green eyes, such a perfect mix of emerald and jade. That expression of concern, of friendship, of eternal hope. In every word he didn't say, he was telling her that even though he might be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, there was room there for her problems too, and he wanted to add them to his burden. What? Now he was hugging her! It was too much. In the words of that '70's song, it was like he'd found her letters and read each one out loud, killing her softly with his song. And it was working; she could feel her inner resolve start to crumble. It couldn't, he couldn't know, not yet! Not like this! She had to resist.
She pushed away from him. "No! Leave me alone! Why would I want to be friends with a geek bait of an orphan boy like you?"
Fire flashed in those emerald-jade eyes. For a little, almost nothing, he would have been willing to sell his introduction to Helga on the open market then and there. But those words kept coming back to him:
That person is in pain, and needs your help but will not admit it. Those words would not leave him alone.
"Is that the best you can do?"
She struggled. "Arnold, leave it alone."
"I can't do that."
"You don't want to go there."
"I have no choice. My friend is hurting and won't let me help her."
He called me his friend! resounded joyously through her mind, and was immediately swallowed up. "Arnold, I'm serious. You're playing with fire."
"So I'll wear asbestos."
"You'll get cancer."
"So I'll get cancer, mesothelioma, whatever; I'll take that chance. Please, Helga. Please, let me help you." And with that he again started to embrace her in friendship and comfort.
She was on the brink, but the bully in her was not finished yet. It still had one card to play, and was determined to put everything it had on the table. Her hands balled into fists. This was the last thing she had ever wanted to do, but it was the last thing preventing her from spilling her guts. She set her teeth to allay the trembling that was still manifest in her arms, and then, Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers went into play on Arnold's back.
"D it Arnold, I said to GO AWAY & LEAVE ME ALONE!!! Take your d good intentions and your wanting to f help and get OUTTA HERE!! Where does a d orphan like you get off, what gives you the right to try to interfere in my personal life and try to change every--thing? You think you can just come in and turn my whole world upside-down? To h with you, d it!" And then she got rude.
Arnold said nothing; he just maintained his hug and absorbed the blows physical and verbal, saying nothing, the occasional tear streaking his face. If someone had told him even five minutes previously that he would find himself in this situation, he would have shrugged it off with a "whatever you say", but would not have believed. But every step along the way, he had become progressively ensnared in Helga's emotions. The more she tried to cover it up or shoo him off, the more convinced he became that whatever was inside her was a toxic substance, poisoning her inner being; something which, for her sake, had to come out.
By now the fists had slowed but not stopped, the words were dissolving, right about -- "I HATE MY LIFE!!!" -- now. That was the terrible climax of Helga's negative passion; terrible, but necessary. And then, the tears. It was the closest Helga had ever allowed herself to come to falling apart. Being a Pataki --- although not Olga --- she had always striven to remain in control of her emotions at all times. But not now. Now her control was in a nosedive, her emotional state in a tailspin. Finally, the fists stilled; instead of hitting Arnold's back, they were clinging to it, grabbing hold anew with each heave, each wheeze into and out of her lungs. Helga was literally hanging on to him for dear life.
The assault on his back halted, Arnold held Helga, letting her cry. To soothe her, he ran his hands up and down her back in consolation. "There, there, just let it out, Helga; let it all out."
The lachrymal paroxysm continued, equaling any emotional display Olga had ever put on. When she found her voice, it was somewhat the worse for wear. "Dit Arnold, why do you have to be so, so, so Arnold?"
Silence.
"With your helpfulness and your goody-goody do-goody dreaming and your optimism. Don't you know the world stinks?"
A sigh escaped him before he started to respond. "Yes, Helga. I know. But I can't let that affect how I live my life. I need to make things better, you know that. You say the world stinks? So I'll get some air freshener."
Helga had to laugh at that, despite everything. "And clean it up one piece at a time?"
"Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, Helga."
Now it was her turn for silence.
"I can feel the anger in you, Helga, the hurt. If you don't let anyone help you you'll just make it harder on yourself, and you'll have to live with the unhappiness."
That brought a faint & fleeting smile to Helga's face. "That's almost exactly what Inga said the last time I saw her."
He nodded, then waited. "You've come this far; I'd say you've already committed yourself."
That rueful grin again. "I'd say I should commit myself, and my whole family while I'm at it."
Arnold said nothing; he only gave her a reassuring smile and patiently waited.
That was it; Arnold had finally cleared the dam and would not be denied. Although this had been one of those moments for which she'd been waiting, it had also been one of those moments she'd been dreading. "You might want to take a seat, football-head; it's a long story." He did so, joined by her on the ground.
And so it started. Helga opened to Arnold a story of sorrow. It was a story of an ogre, a brute who seemed to live by the motto 'the protruding emotion will be hammered down'. It was a story of a woman who could care but chose not to, choosing to drown herself mentally, keeping herself in a 'smoothie'-induced stupor. The whole thing caused Arnold to grieve for her internally. He might not have considered Helga's parents to be the best, but he had imagined only a fraction of what she now told him.
Over in the bushes, Brainy took in the story --- most of which he already knew --- with mixed emotions. While he knew that Helga needed to go through this, the experience was causing even him to cry. "It's for her own good, for her health, for her safety." he kept telling himself. "It's like sweating out a fever, cutting out an infection, it has to be done for her to survive." He knew that he was saying the truth, that this was the only way she could possibly start to heal; but that didn't make it any easier for him to watch.
On the other side, the scene was even more waterlogged; the tears were flowing thick and fast. All the time that her sister had struggled with Arnold, had fought him, had fallen apart; Olga had been hovering on the edge herself. And now, hearing the family dirty laundry that she had always known but repressed, she was starting to lose it. Lila had a finger poised over the signal button on the walkie-talkie which would cue Brainy to play the grunge in distraction, but it didn't seem necessary as Helga was preoccupied with her own problems.
Olga had changed; her Mary Sunshine persona had dissolved into the tears that were around her feet. Every word she heard her sister say about 'Mummy & Daddy' stung worse than any slap in the face ever could. She had known these things, most of them. But she had chosen to ignore the faults in her parents and focus on their good qualities which they exhibited once in a blue moon, especially to her. This was nothing new for Olga; she had, after all, completely caved in to the pressure to succeed and become everything her father had ever wanted her to be.
I have to perform all the time like some kind of wind-up doll, she remembered her own words to her sister. But the worst, for her, was yet to come.
"And then there's Ooolll-ga!"
"What's wrong with your sister?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all! She's perfect, even more perfect than Lila. You have no idea what it is to constantly be in the shadow of someone who's a combination of Martha Stewart, Marilyn Vos Savant, Yo Yo Ma and Miss America. And let's not forget she's the perfect daughter. I know I'll never forget, and I have tried. I'm constantly being compared to her and found wanting; she's always been held up as an example. Every mistake I make it's 'this would never have happened to Olga'. You've been in our house; you must have seen the trophy room. It's only wall to wall Olga. They even keep calling me 'Olga'. There's just two daughters; you'd think they could keep us straight, but nooooo, not Big Bob Pataki! He's always calling me 'Olga', either that or 'the girl'...
There was more, much more, but Olga heard no more; at that point she'd had enough. She couldn't listen to these truths anymore. Blind from her tears, she ran. And ran. And ran. She didn't know where she was running, and she didn't care. Perhaps she was trying to run away from the truth; she wouldn't have known even had she cared to think about it. And despite her best efforts, the truth continued to intrude on the house of cards in her mind.
It was there all the time, the signs were all there, she was trying to tell me...
"...so you can get out of bed and prance around the house like Mary Sunshine again. You can go back to being the Golden Child and go ahead and tell Mom & Dad what I did so they'll reward you and punish me like they always do."
"You think you're getting to know me, but you don't know the first thing about me. You think spending a lot of time together is making us closer, but it's not. The truth is, Olga, I can't stand you."
"But Helga, I still don't understand. If I get on that plane and go to Alaska to teach desperate and underprivileged Inuit children, how will that ever make us closer to each other?"
"Olga, I know it might not make much sense to you now, but trust me; the farther away you are from me, the closer we'll be."
"Hey, what are sisters for?"
"I don't know!"
"Hey what are sisters for?"
"I don't know!"
"Hey, what are sisters for?"
"I don't know! ...-on't know! ...-on't know! ...-on't know! ...-on't know!"
Those unhappy memories persisted, haunting her. Letting her know, again and again, that she had failed. She had failed her sister. She was the older sister; she was supposed to have looked out for her.
"Oh, Helga, what have we done? GREAT GOD IN HEAVEN, WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?"
And she collapsed in the grass, downed in a torrent of tears.
To be continued, obviously. Although this doesn't technically count as a cliffhanger, hopefully. If y'all have wiped the tears away now (I'm conceited, aren't I?), y'all can expect the next chapter when y'all see it. Anyone who wants to contact me, I'm Nftnat, on IM I'm Nftnat, & on e-mail I'm nftnataol.com . Cy'all.