Well journal, I'm sure you're just EAGER to find out what's been going on these last few days of summer, and, considering I'm stuck sitting out here until God knows how long, I might as well waste my time telling you my teenage thoughts, musings, and epiphanies.
8th grade is just a few days away at this point. Normally, I wouldn't care all that much or I'd feel fairly pessimistic about what the school year holds, but after Rhonda's party the other day, it's safe to say that my outlook has COMPLETELY changed.
And I know, I KNOW what you're thinking. "Helga don't get your hopes up. After all, YOU were the one to enable that whole 'we walk' thing" but you know what?
I don't care. I'm getting my hopes up. I'm ALLOWED to get my hopes up… especially after TODAY, but I'll get to that in a minute.
Anyway, since that whole back-to-school bash thing, Arnold and I have been hanging out practically nonstop. And when we're not together, we're texting (thanks Olga) which makes everything even easier. The crazy thing is that it's almost like all of our problems have melted away. Maybe it's just that whole 'honeymoon phase' thing that people talk about, but maybe it's NOT.
Maybe THIS time things are working out exactly the way they were ALWAYS supposed to work out. Maybe this will be the time that Arnold and I stay together for GOOD. Sure, it might be a LITTLE unrealistic to think that we'll make it all the way through High School and college without incident to the finish line… but a girl can dream, can't she? There's nothing wrong with a little hope.
That being said, I still haven't really been ENTIRELY truthful with Arnold, but not about anything HUGE by any means. I just haven't really told him the extent of how bad things are around here, that is to say, he doesn't know my parents are getting divorced.
Hell, until today, neither did Miriam.
I had only told Phoebe about my family's impending dirty little secret, but part of me is pretty sure Mom must have said something to Stella. Whenever I'm over at the boarding house she looks at me with this sad look in her eyes like she KNOWS something but doesn't know if I know the thing that she knows.
But I know.
I know. Olga knows. Bob knows, and now, Miriam DEFINITELY knows.
She might have known before he said anything, though. I mean, she isn't STUPID. In fact, given Bob's behavior, any idiot could have put 2 and 2 together to see where their relationship was headed. What with his shorter-than-usual temper that is usually followed by him hiding out in his room just to watch that stupid new TV he bought… criminy. Should have known it was only a matter of time after that influx of cash from the Cellphone Castle.
That is what a mid-life crisis is, right? Buying dumb things. Wishing you had done other things. Avoiding your spouse. It's what all the movies show and it's certainly what's been happening with Bob and Miriam who have even gone so far as to move into separate rooms.
They CLAIM it's because Bob snores—which he does—but Mom's been putting up with that headache for YEARS now so you can't tell me that it's suddenly some big issue all of a sudden.
Maybe it's bad to say this, but I kind of don't really care that much. I mean, I care about Miriam and I care that she doesn't lose her mind over all of this, but what I MEAN is that I don't care WHAT ends up happening so long as I don't have to move away and live with BOB and the mysterious person he talks to late at night.
Obviously, HE doesn't know I can hear him, but the walls are pretty thin and I'm basically a professional spy at this point.
WHOEVER it is he talks to, I know it isn't Olga. According to her (YES, believe it or not, we HAVE been talking regularly) they haven't spoken for longer than a few minutes like a WEEK ago.
Color me impressed.
He told her that he was going to give the papers to Miriam then… but considering the commotion I walked into on my way home from Phoebe's AND considering that I'm sitting on my stoop writing in you… I'd say it's pretty easy to deduce that they're in the thickets of it now.
And Olga STILL isn't here yet.
It only figures that some big hang-up would prevent her from getting here on time to join me in this exciting traumatic event of my young life. I guess I COULD call her on my cell, but that feels less than important right now. I texted her and that's enough. She'll call when she can and whether she gets here today, tomorrow, or next week, I'll manage.
After all, I HAVE been practically taking care of my mom since I was like 3. What's a few more days?
I still can't help but worry, though.
"Of course, I know that she'll be better off without him," Helga had told Phoebe as they sat in her room that early afternoon. "I just worry that she'll… you know… slip up and fall back into her old ways."
"Do you mean to say that you believe she will once again return to alcohol as her coping mechanism?" Phoebe questioned while taking a single chip from the nearby bag of junk food that they were sharing before carefully taking a bite from it.
"Honestly, Pheebs, I don't know what she'll do." She sighed before shaking her head a few times as though it would help organize her thoughts before continuing. "Obviously, I want to believe that she'll stick it out without relapsing or whatever, but I'm almost… afraid of getting my hopes up. I mean, she spent practically my whole life being half of a parent, if that. So, I'm almost expecting Miriam to make her dramatic return to the blender… but I don't want her to."
"Given the environment you grew up in, I can understand why you feel that way, Helga," the small-framed teen replied thoughtfully while crunching on the remainder of her chip. "Considering your mother's recent friendship with Stella and her regular attendance of meetings, maybe she will surprise you and continue with her sobriety."
"Eh… maybe—"
"And with your sister around," Phoebe continued despite her friend's obvious hesitation, "perhaps she will be able to offer additional encouragement so you can focus on being… well… a kid."
Helga let out an audible scoff that sounded more like a facetious laugh. "C'mon, Phoebe," she stated with heavy sarcasm. "When have I ever been able to just be a kid, huh?"
"That's precisely my point," she responded without missing a beat. "If Olga is around to provide additional support, you will be able to focus on having an authentic childhood experience"
"Yeah, that is if Olga ever decides to show up and if Bob ever stops wimping out and tells mom the truth," Helga rolled her eyes before leaning back to rest on the heels of her hands where she sat on the floor of Phoebe's room. "I think it's a safer bet to just turn a blind eye and try to convince the Shortmans to adopt me."
"Oh, Helga…" Phoebe said with a sigh that made the blonde narrow her azure eyes in mild irritation.
"I'm joking," Helga insisted, although a small piece of her felt she had spoken a lie. "Whatever ends up happening, I just hope Olga is around for it. I have more important things to worry about."
A tiny giggle emitted from the small dark-haired girl whose eyes widened in curiosity. "Would you be referring to Arnold? How are things going since Rhonda's party?"
In Arnold-related news though, things feel back to normal—whatever THAT is. I'm back at family dinners and it feels like I never missed a beat. I can tell that the boarders are glad to have me and my impeccable comedic timing back at that table—especially when Oskar needs a good roast or two.
Most of all, I just like feeling at HOME again… which I guess is kind of weird to say considering that Sunset Arms isn't my home and the people there aren't my family.
No, MY family is inside bickering and crumbling apart. The house we live in still stands, but what MADE it—two parents who probably USED to love each other—is rotting away to leave nothing but bones behind in its wake.
And do you know what the WORST part is?
I'm not even SAD about it. Which feels wrong, somehow.
I think about Arnold—how HE'D feel if his parents up and got divorced. I think about Phoebe and her parents or the many other people around me who would be utterly shocked if their family were ripped at the seams. Hell, I even keep thinking about that new girl and HER divorced parents, but at least she never knew any different. But me? I DO know what it's like to have two parents and the news of divorce makes me feel NOTHING.
Maybe because I half expected it. I mean, you SEE something in front of you your whole life and you see that disfunction, but it's so normal that you don't really bat an eye to it. Then you look around and see how NOT normal it is, and you're jealous in a way. Jealous that these other kids get to have this childhood and home that you don't get to have.
Anyway, so when the whole thing falls apart, you aren't shocked or mad or sad… you're just kind of… eh? It's funny, here I am, this self-defined writer, and I can't even think of a good way to describe my stinkin' feelings. I guess in a way, if I had to put a word to it… when I walked into the house after I left Phoebe's… I was relieved.
As Helga approached her house, the mumble of shouting caused her to look up from the screen of her phone that she'd had her nose buried in for her entire walk. Pausing just a few paces away from the stoop, Helga furrowed her brows while listening intently at the murmurs bleeding through the walls. While she couldn't discern what was being said, a wave of peace flooded her body at the garbled sounds.
It was happening.
At long last, Bob was finally delivering the bad news.
And Helga was lucky enough to be walking right into the middle of it.
"Criminy," she audibly groaned to herself, "he had to choose now to do this?"
Pulling her phone back up to look at it, she navigated her way to the messages screen to begin typing a message to Olga, who she had fondly labeled as 'Olga the Perfect Pataki'.
HELGA:
So… it's happening. And guess who's STILL not here?
She looked over the message a few times as her thumb hovered over the 'send' key. Chewing on her lip while considering whether to send it as is, Helga sighed angrily before deleting the back-half of her sentence.
HELGA:
So… it's happening.
Leaving it at that, Helga sent the message and clicked the 'back' button to stare down at her list of messages—one name in particular staring back and silently mocking her from beyond the screen.
Arnold, she thought to herself before mumbling out, "I'm gonna have to tell him…"
For some reason, unbeknownst to Helga, she felt fearful to tell her somewhat-boyfriend about this life-changing news. Maybe it was because it further proved the disfunction that ran rampant in her family, or maybe it was the fact that she didn't want him feeling sorry for her or treating her differently.
What Helga most suspected the reason to be, however, was that she was embarrassed. Arnold was relatively left out of the loop regarding her family because she feared he may not want anything to do with her if he knew exactly what she was related to. Sure, he knew Bob wasn't exactly 'father-of-the-year' and that Miriam tried her best given the circumstances…but compared to his seemingly perfect family, the Patakis were far from ideal and borderline mortifying.
At least, that's how Helga felt, anyway.
Briefly pondering how she intended to tell him of the particulars surrounding her family, Helga opted to buy herself some time and pulled up a fresh message to Arnold.
HELGA:
Hey, I'm gonna be busy tonight so I might not be able to come over if that's okay…
Sending the message, she took a few steps towards her house and turned around to rest her back against the concrete of the stoop. Tapping her nails anxiously on the glass of her phone, Helga waited impatiently for a response before she had to face what was going on behind the closed doors of the Pataki home. While the arguing she could just barely hear had softened to be inaudible from outside, she knew that whatever lay inside was still chaotic and sure to be a nightmare to deal with.
Especially for a mere thirteen-year-old.
BUZZ BUZZ
The screen lit up to reveal a new message from Arnold. With haste, Helga unlocked the phone to see what he had sent.
FOOTBALLHEAD:
Sure, Helga. Is everything okay?
"Of course, you had to ask that, Hair Boy…" Helga grumbled to the phone as she immediately began crafting her intentionally vague response.
HELGA:
Yeah, everything is peachy. Just got some stuff to do.
Sending the message before clicking the side button to lock her phone once again, Helga swiftly slid the rectangle into the back pocket of her jeans. Pushing herself off from the side of the stoop, she inhaled a deep breath while softly closing her eyes for a brief moment.
"Okay, Helga," she whispered to herself, "all you gotta do is get in there and beeline it to your room. I mean, criminy! They hardly notice your existence 90% of the time anyway. Maybe it'll work in your favor this time."
With another deep breath, Helga walked up the steps and opened the door to enter her house after long last—a blast of arguing blowing her back from the doorway. Shutting the door in a fluid motion, her eyes shifted towards the kitchen where the arguing seemed to be originating.
"Figures," she said softly to herself. I wanted to grab some chips or something for dinner.
Walking carefully towards the steps just ahead of her, Helga tried with all of her might not to be spotted or heard by the couple fighting mere feet away—but it was already too late.
"Hey, hey, hey—you stop right there, little lady," Bob ordered as Helga's foot dropped from its attempt to reach the first step of the staircase.
Huffing dramatically, Helga's posture crumpled before she turned to face the direction of the kitchen. "What?"
"Well, get in here," he hollered more for volume purposes than anger. "I don't want to have to scream to be heard."
"Really?" Helga asked in mock surprise before making her way into the kitchen with a cross of her arms over her chest. "'Cause you didn't seem to have an issue screaming before I walked in the door…"
"I don't need your sass right now," Bob responded as Helga leaned against the entryway of the kitchen while keeping her arms tightly crossed and a bored expression on her face. "Just where have you been all day, huh? With that orphan boy of yours again?"
Rolling her eyes, Helga frowned. "Once again, not an orphan," she corrected out of habit, "and I already told you before I left that I was going to Phoebe's for the afternoon."
"When did you tell me that?" He questioned.
Smirking, Helga simply answered, "While you were holed up in your room watching that stupid TV, Bob…"
"You couldn't have opened the door and let me know?" He pushed which confused Helga at his sudden concern.
"What, like you couldn't get a hold of me if you wanted to?" She asked with irritation. "I do have a cellphone now, no thanks to you."
"Honey," Miriam interjected as if to diffuse the already volatile situation forming between the father and daughter, "Your father was just worried, that's all. Right B?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," he halfheartedly agreed with a wave of his hand. "Look, we uh… there's something you should know—"
"What? That you're getting divorced?" Helga deadpanned; her parents taken aback by her words.
"How the hell did she know?" Bob turned and asked Miriam who shrugged her shoulders without an audible answer.
"Your other, more important daughter, Olga told me when I was gone all summer." Pushing herself off from the frame of the entryway, Helga made her way to the fridge and opened it up casually with the hope of finding food. "Or did you not notice my absence then either?"
"Of course, we knew you saw Olga, sweetie," Miriam assured her daughter in a tired voice. It was clear that she was already exhausted from arguing and wanted to either sleep for an entire day or make herself a stiff drink. "We just didn't realize she had told you…"
"Well, doi, she told me," Helga responded angrily while grabbing the last Yahoo soda from the refrigerator door. "In fact, she wanted me to stay with her over the summer because she wanted me to avoid this, which is more than the two of you can say."
She felt bad that Miriam was getting the brunt of her anger, but not the smallest piece of Helga G. Pataki felt even a smidge of sympathy for her father. As the years had dragged on, their relationship had only grown more strained. These days, Helga saw the man in front of her for what he truly was—much more than a blowhard and nothing else but a donor for her DNA. While her mother had sought help for her issues and actively tried to be a better parent, her dad merely drifted further away; either consumed by his desire to be elsewhere or driven by his increasingly narcistic personality.
Call it a mid-life crisis or just his true self, Helga no longer saw her father the way she had as a child. Always secretly hoping for his approval, her need for his attention had subsided and she instead became accustomed to his absence that only persisted as she matured.
Because she had matured, and Bob… well, he had gone a much different route with his age.
"Now listen here, Olga—"
"Helga," she corrected emotionless—just another day for the girl in her Pataki household.
"That's what I said," Bob angrily insisted having known his one of countless slip-ups in mis-naming his own child. "Helga, as part of the deal we have here, you'll be staying with your mom, okay?"
"Why," Helga asked without actual interest, "so you can move away and honeymoon with your giant TV and mysterious call girl?"
"Helga!" Miriam exclaimed as water began to pool in her eyes; the teenager immediately realizing that the stabs directed at her father were ricocheting off of him and damaging her mother instead.
Ignoring her comment altogether, Bob simply continued with his thought. "I just think it's best that your mother has someone with her during… all of this. Right, Miriam?"
The woman was nodding her head while clearly holding back tears. Her eyes dodged in the direction of a nearby cabinet and Helga sighed knowing exactly what her mom was thinking. This wouldn't be easy to keep Miriam on the path she had been successfully navigating prior to all her dad's betrayal. Silently, Helga wished she had been just a baby, like that new girl, when this divorce had happened. A baby doesn't have to deal with this drama or even realize it's happening. They know no different.
And Helga certainly wished that she knew no different.
"Honestly, dad?" Helga began with a rage inside of her that quickly fizzled as she glanced in her mother's direction. Letting out a sigh instead of her meticulously planned insult, she quietly said, "I would rather be here, anyway. I think it's best for all of us if you… if you just leave."
Her words came as a heartwarming shock to Miriam who looked sadly down at her daughter. Taking a few steps towards her, Miriam reached out to place her hands on Helga's shoulders. "Oh honey. I know this is difficult, but—"
Immediately shying away from her mother's touch, Helga took a few steps backwards in the direction of the kitchen's exit. "I think… I think I need some time, okay?" She told the two who watched her incredulously as she inched away from them. "And frankly, I think you two need to finish this little argument or whatever before I say something I really don't want to say…so…" Nodding her head once as a finalization in the conversation, Helga escaped the kitchen and quickly ran up the stairs to her bedroom.
Standing in the doorway of her room, Helga looked around at the small area she could call her own. Almost as though she felt nothing, her eyes searched for something that would make her feel anything; anything that was better than complete numbness.
Catching a glimpse of her journal which lay in its home on the bedside table, Helga slowly walked in its direction and picked it up before grabbing a nearby pen. Pivoting on her foot, she then turned around and exited the room to jog down the stairs. "I'll just be outside," Helga muttered out to her speechless parents still in the kitchen, and with that, she opened the front door to leave them and their arguing in her wake.
I don't know HOW they expected me to act at the news when they finally dropped the dropped the bomb. It's not like I was SURPRISED and if they thought I would be, then they really REALLY don't know me at all. I've grown up in their toxic relationship. I never KNEW what it was like to be around in the golden age when Olga had just been born. From the pictures I've seen during that time, things were fairly happy.
At least, that's what I get from the perspective of outside their captured memories.
Sometimes, I wonder if I ruined things between everyone. I know that I shouldn't because there's no sense in blaming myself for their lame lives, but I still wonder if things would be different if I never existed.
A long time ago I indulged in this thinking… imagining what the world would be like if I had never existed. Granted, it was only because I'd ran into a stinkin' POLE and had a crazy FEVER DREAM, but everyone was better off in THAT world where I was completely, and utterly gone.
Don't get me wrong, I in NO WAY wish that I didn't exist—talk about a sad and boring world without Helga G. Pataki in it. No, I just can't help but picture what life would be like for everyone without me. My parents might be happy… they might be in LOVE like I'm sure they were when they first got married.
But this divorce isn't my fault and there's no sense in thinking about that kind of stuff, anyway.
I exist.
And that's just all there is to it.
They made their choices just like I make mine and all I can do is let them verbally duke it out while I sit here on the stoop and write aimlessly for a little bit.
That's funny, Helga. You say 'little bit' like you haven't been out here so long that the sun is beginning to set, and the air is getting chilly with the approach of night. You say 'little bit' like you haven't stared at the trees so long you've memorized each jilt and curve of their limbs as they stem upwards like greedy hands reaching towards the endless sky.
Even though it's still summer, I can imagine the branches hidden underneath their coats of lush greenery that looks black with the night. While I know the bark of their trunks are a deep brown timber, their dark silhouettes against the grey hued sky behind them make me think…It's odd how I can know they're brown and yet still only see black. Suddenly, I'm realizing the way their details have been stripped with the night—the minute cracks and curves lost to the evening that blankets our realm atop its every feature.
I wonder if the leaves that bristle and blow with each gust of wind know that they will soon be replaced. Do they know that the time will soon come for them to wither and drift to the ground where they will die beside their decomposing friends—their neighbors from the branches they currently hang on this brisk summer's night.
Maybe it's dumb to sit here and stare at trees from across the street like some pathetic nobody on her own stoop. I'm just some girl rambling in a journal that contains thoughts that will have no meaning on the multitudes of lifetimes the future holds.
Still. I look at this tree—this deail-less tree—as it stands firmly against the sky that only darkens with each passing second. I watch the limbs remain strong as their brown fades to black and each tree and house they reside beside become nothing more than shadows… shadows like the shadows of words muffled from the brick walls of my childhood home at my back.
But they're still there. They still remain, just as I do.
Part of me wishes Olga were here. I keep checking my phone to see if she's texted me back, but there's never anything there… which figures.
I don't even know what the point would be of having her here. Maybe it would make me feel better to have someone ELSE I could mope with other than this lame journal—although I doubt her and that resilient optimism of hers would allow even a twinge of gloom on the stoop.
Even so, I almost wish she WOULD sit here with me and listen to our parents as they drone on and on like I've had to listen to—ALONE—for years. I wonder if Olga was ever subjected to their arguing… if she ever was, she certainly doesn't talk about it. Just once—Just ONCE I would love for her to listen to it and know that the perfect life that she had never existed for me.
But I guess she knows that. It's not Olga that I'm angry with—I gotta remember that. Hell, it isn't Miriam I'm angry with, and I guess it isn't Bob either… It's not even MYSELF that this rage is directed towards.
Maybe I'm just angry at the world.
I'm angry that this is the life I've always had. I'm angry that the type of problems I'm dealing with aren't new and now I'm practically numb to their arguments which—I'm pretty sure—is some kind of trauma that Dr. Bliss used to go on about for that one year I saw her before she up and left Hillwood mid-fifth grade.
My whole life is like this night… slowly overtaking the colorful world in darkness… but the color is still there. A once grey sky can turn black in mere seconds; the remnants of the heavy clouds that dotted it still float in the backdrop of where trees once appeared.
The night masks them… but they are still there.
The anger masks ME… but I am still here.
Just as I had seen the trees from across the street, the night once again claims dominance of the sky and they ultimately succumb to the evening's darkness. It may SEEM as though the trees have been swallowed whole by an invisible villain that waits for no one… but they still remain.
And in the morning, when the sun dances soft rays atop the many roofs and trees planted on the soil of Hillwood, color will again reign supreme throughout the day. Because ALL things must end… even this horrible, shouting-filled night.
All things end.
Even my parents' arguments.
Even this entry will end, which I HOPE will be soo
As Helga's pen poised itself to continue writing her poetic nonsense on the page, a familiar buzzing began and prolonged to a pattern that she recognized as a phone call. Pulling the small rectangle from her pocket, she looked down to the text that scrolled across the now-illuminated screen.
Incoming Call From
OLGA THE PERFECT PATAKI
"Ha," Helga scoffed out a humorless laugh. "About time…" In one fluid motion, she swiped the phone to answer as she shut her journal which kept the pen she'd been using safely in the book's closed crease.
"Olga," she said into the receiver with a heavy sigh while looking out to the trees she had previously been writing about, "Take it you haven't checked your phone lately, have you?"
"Oh, Helga," she cooed from the earpiece that spoke directly into the teenager's ear, "I am so, so, so sorry that I have been unable to be at your side during this disconcerting and stressful time." From the background of her words, Helga could tell that her sister was in a car driving as she enunciated her words carefully into the phone. "If I could have left any sooner, I absolutely would have, you know that… right Helga?"
"Sure," she responded in a lackluster tone while glancing over her shoulder at the door that remained closed—a sudden silence now emanating from behind it. "But you really don't have to worry about coming home today. I mean, it's already dark out or whatever. Mom and Dad would have a fit if you got into an accident or something—"
"Don't you worry your pretty little head, baby sis," Olga reassured, though Helga merely rolled her eyes at the annoying nickname her sister refused to let die. "I will take every precaution to ensure that I arrive safely and as quickly as possible."
"Seriously," Helga tried again while standing from the stoop, her journal neatly tucked under her armpit as she turned around to face the front door. "I think they're done arguing for the night… either that or one of them killed the other. In which case, I'm sure I've got a lot of cleaning up to do and a body to hide so—"
"Helga!" her sister scolded from across the airwaves; Helga smirking at the sarcastic comment she thought was funny. "How could you ever say such terrible things?"
"Relax, Olga," she answered nonchalantly while reaching for the doorknob to let herself back inside, "You and I both know that they probably tired themselves out and Bob is locked in his room with 'The Wheel' on full blast and Miriam is off… being Miriam somewhere."
"You don't think she—" Olga murmured in a hushed tone, though Helga was quick to cut her off.
"I honestly don't know," she said with sincerity while walking inside and softly closing the door behind her. "But I'm inside now, so—"
"Inside?" the eldest Pataki repeated in shock. "What were you doing outside?"
Sighing heavily, Helga leaned to rest her back against the door she had just closed. "Would you just chill out, already? Criminy!" She exclaimed before pushing herself off of the door to begin her ascent up the staircase ahead of her. "I just sat outside for a little bit to get away from their bickering, okay? I'M FINE."
"Oh Helga, are you certain?" Olga pressed despite Helga's obvious agitation at her persistence. "If Mother really is back to her old ways—"
"Then I know exactly what I'm up against," Helga finished for her in a calm tone. "Just stay where you are, pack up whatever it is you need, and start your drive in the morning. Trust me. It'll be better for everyone if you just stay put for the night."
"Well…" Olga elongated the word before the sound of a turn signal began clicking in the background, "Alright then. I'll leave here first thing in the morning. But Helga, you have to PROMISE me that if things get worse—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Helga agreed before she could finish her sentence. "I'll call you."
With a final goodbye, Helga ended the call and once again slid her phone back to its home inside her back pocket. Looking around the now-empty space in both the living room and kitchen, Helga shrugged carelessly before trudging up the steps in pursuit of her room.
Passing by the room Bob had claimed as his own, Helga paused outside the closed door and listened to the echoes of canned applause and the sound of the wheel ticking away as it spun on his television. Completely unsurprised by this, she soon moved on to enter her own room, only to halt in the doorway and furrow her brows for a moment.
Listening intently to the sounds beyond that of Bob's big screen, a faint sound that warranted investigating wafted through the air. Looking to the inside of her own room which lay empty, she immediately turned to glance at the only other closed door on the floor. With a heavy sigh, Helga tossed the journal she'd been carrying to land in a bounce on her bed before leaving the safety of her room to the one across the way.
Taking a deep breath, Helga reached her fist out to gently rap on the wood of the door. "M-Mom?" She asked in an even tone; the soft sound of sniffles hiding from inside the room. "Miriam, are you…" letting out a huff of air, Helga sucked in some more and quickly spat out before she could regret it: "Can I… can I come in?"
A long moment of silence answered Helga's question, and the teenager sighed while solemnly nodding her head. Just as she pivoted around to return to her room, a weak voice called out, "Sure, sweetie. Come on… come on in."
Nervously, Helga inched her way back towards the door and carefully opened it to reveal Miriam sitting on the edge of the bed; her eyes staring out towards the bedroom window. The blinds had been pulled up and one could look out to the backyard of their home—a small yard, but beyond that lay the entire city. A kaleidoscope of lights from other homes in the city twinkled like stars that were close enough to reach.
Moving to sit beside her mother on the bed, Helga cleared her throat awkwardly before murmuring, "You okay, mom?"
As if she hadn't heard her question, Miriam continued to stare outside of the window to a world that wasn't seen through the glass. The mother was worlds away, lost in a memory that only she could see.
"You know Helga, I never wanted to get married," she said after a moment; Helga turning to look in her direction with a raise of her brow.
"Huh?"
"Your father," she continued without missing a beat, "he was a persistent man. Always a true businessman at heart. Beepers, cellphones…." Shaking her head to herself, Miriam glanced down to look at the simple wedding band that rested on her finger. "He could sell anything to anyone who listened." Taking a moment to swallow hard, Miriam raised her head to look out towards the city once again. "Desperate or not."
Unsure of what to say, Helga remained silent at her mother's side; quietly listening to whatever story she was telling in whatever way she chose to tell it.
"I…" her voice wavered as her posture straightened and her chin tilted with battered pride, "I was on my way. Ambitious. Talented. Motivated to succeed." Water welled in the base of her eyes while they stared ahead into the memory she was recalling. "You know, I could have been an Olympic-class swimmer," Miriam then said with a quick glimpse towards her youngest daughter.
"Swimming, huh?" Helga responded, though she had heard her mother speak briefly about her athletic past before.
Nodding her head, Miriam resumed staring into space. "I was world class. Had a scholarship and everything to a great college." She smirked to herself before peeling her eyes to look down at her hands as they rest limply in her lap. "Took business classes on the side as a fallback in case I was injured and couldn't swim."
Silence sat between the pair as Helga waited for the next line of the story—a piece that she knew before it could even leave Miriam's lips.
"That's where I met your father," she mumbled, soon pressing her lips into a hard line as though they were a dam that could hold back her tears. Rather than waterworks, laughter emitted from the fragile woman who allowed early memories from her relationship to take over in her mind. "Oh, B was something else. Really, Helga."
The young girl watched as her mother's eyes lit up as she spoke; it was as though she were talking of someone who no longer existed—someone who had been long dead and now only lived through her memories. "He was smart. Persuasive. He had so many ideas and plans—we both did. I would win a couple medals at the Olympics and he would manage me… Together we'd retire in Europe with a pile of money and businesses all across the world." As soon as the words left her mouth, the smile that came with them faded and Miriam's eyes dulled as reality hit her like a slap in the face.
All at once she returned to the present; her eyes again shifting down to the wedding ring that rest on her finger. "But plans change."
It was all she needed to say for Helga to understand. She imagined the world that Miriam knew at that time—that both Miriam and Bob knew. A bouncing baby girl—her sister—Olga. They would pour every resource they had into her, funneling their own obsessions with success that they had never been able to attain. They may have held no contempt for the unwitting child they were raising, but they had to have known she was their only shot at getting even a fraction of the original life they had envisioned for themselves.
"Before I knew it we were married—a quick wedding in Vegas, nothing special," her mother continued as Helga pulled herself out of her thoughts to resume listening to the story from her parents' past. "But you know what? I-I didn't care," she said firmly and self-assuredly. "I loved your father and he loved me. And soon, we were parents to your sister. Life had changed, our goals had changed… but we were happy. At least… I thought we were."
Miriam's tone softened as she approached the next chapter of her tale with caution knowing all-too-well that Helga could take it the wrong way should she use the incorrect phrasing. "B had just gotten into the beeper game," she went on while chewing on the inside of her lip. "A small business, just a start-up, really. He had heard through the grapevine about the new technology and, just like he had always been, Bob was ambitious to be the first one to achieve success in the business."
"Then I came along, huh?" Helga interjected without looking at her mother who immediately tried to stop where her daughter's thought process was headed.
"Honey, I do not want you to blame anything that happened between your father and I on you, do you understand?" Miriam insisted while reaching out to take her daughter's hand in her own. "Things had… soured long before you came into the picture."
"Oh really?" Helga shot back while snatching her hand away from her mother's grip. "Sounds like you had the perfect life before I showed up."
"Well, that's just not true, Helga," Miriam said firmly with a furrowing of her brows. "That's not true at all. Your father and I," she began before searching for the right words, "We were young when we got married. He was only 21 and I had just turned 19. I dropped out of college, we weren't…" the words spewed out of her mouth so fast that she tumbled over them and had to stop to gain composure before trying again. "We didn't have the chance to be on our own before becoming parents."
"So?" Helga replied, unimpressed. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're young," Miriam said point-blank. "Relationships are complicated—"
"Then try to uncomplicate it for me," she demanded in an impatient tone. "I want to know why Olga got to have a perfect life while me, the afterthought, grew up completely invisible to dad and your….your smoothies."
The words had come out far harsher than Helga had intended them, and it only took milliseconds for her to realize the mistake she'd made in saying them. Despite knowing what she'd done, Helga maintained her stoic expression while waiting for something, anything, from the mother who sat still as a statue at her side.
"Bob found real estate here in Hillwood," her mother began just above a whisper. After clearing her throat, she spoke just slightly louder in an emotionless voice. "Olga was just eight, you hadn't been born yet and…" swallowing hard, Miriam pushed out the next series of words that seemed to shake her to her core. "I uh, I found out that one of his colleagues, someone named 'Jordan', he uh… they had a close relationship together. Very close."
The color drained from Helga's face as Miriam went on with her explanation from ages ago.
"Of course, with a name like 'Jordan,' I foolishly assumed that it was another man—some friend that B golfed with on the weekends while making business deals in different cities, but…" Miriam swallowed hard while giving a slight shake of her head. "Well, I was wrong."
"Criminy, Mom—" Helga began, though her mother hadn't finished yet.
"And when I found out by accident when Olga mentioned something about visiting Bob at the office and best friend—a girl named 'Jordan'—well. It didn't take long for me to put two and two together." Miriam nodded her head to herself as the memory continued to play itself out across her vision like the shadow of a nightmare she had worked tirelessly to forget.
"Helga, honey," Miriam turned to address her child who had the look of shock plastered on her face, "your father is a good man. He has worked hard over the years to provide for our family and, while he isn't perfect… none of us are."
"I know," Helga muttered as Miriam continued.
"Drowning one's sorrows is not a way to cope with sorrow or shame or anger," she said confidently—something Helga so rarely witnessed in her mother. "No matter what your father has done, what I have done, what anyone has done… I do not for a moment regret any of it."
"Wait," Helga stopped while leaning back with a skeptical expression. "You mean to tell me that you don't regret marrying him? Him? The guy you just told me straight up cheated on you and led you becoming a smoothie queen?"
"Helga—"
"That's insane, mom, you know that, right?" She went on, her emotions now in a frenzy as she became more enraged with each word she spoke. "I mean, for cripes sake, Miriam, what were you expecting? That he would just change overnight? That he would see the 'error of his ways' and wise up? You should have divorced him. You should have left him out in the cold, or-or-"
"Helga!" Miriam exclaimed in an effort to silence her angered teen. "Helga, I don't regret my decisions because if I had left your father, or if I had chosen not to marry him… I wouldn't have you or your sister."
Helga stared blankly at her mother, unconvinced.
"I know it may not seem like it because," the woman sighed and turned to avert her eyes in shame, "because I've never exactly been 'mother of the year' to you girls, but I…" her voice began to waver as tears worked their way slowly down her cheeks, "I-I always wanted to be. I meant to be… I just…"
"You got lost, mom," Helga finished for her; Miriam twisting her head to look back at the daughter whose face had softened to an expression of understanding. "Nobody can blame you for finding something that helped you hang on… even if it was alcohol that did it."
"Oh honey," Miriam mumbled while reaching out to brush back a stray hair to rest behind Helga's ear. "I'm trying so hard, I really am—"
"I know, mom—"
"—and I really, really don't want to-to… to let you down. Again."
Helga let out a deep breath while softly closing her eyes and nodding her head. "You haven't let anybody down. Maybe yourself, but… I mean… you're trying now aren't you?"
Sniffling a couple of times, Miriam agreed. "Yes, I am."
"And you have friends now who want to help you. Like Stella. Right?"
Still nodding her head, Miriam affirmed her daughter's statement. "Yeah."
"Plus, soon you'll have Olga cause she's coming back to live with us for a while and-and…" Inhaling a long breath, Helga slowly let it out before finishing her sentence. "And you've got me too, okay? You, Olga, and me. Against the world. Alright?"
"Al-Alright…"
Pulling her into a hug, Helga gave her mother a tight squeeze before a crying fit that she had only ever heard from Olga ensued. As her mother sobbed on her shoulder, Helga maintained her grip on the woman while speaking softly more to herself than her own mother.
"You got this, okay? Screw Bob. We'll figure it out." Reaching a hand upwards, she gently began to mindlessly comb through Miriam's blonde locks while she cried. "Us Pataki women are strong, you know. And it isn't because of him."
For the first time in her life, Helga felt a wave of pity for her mother—a mixture of pity and understanding that left a bittersweet taste on her tongue. Though she finally understood the method behind the blender, conflicted feelings of anger, acknowledgement and determination flooded her teenage body.
She was mad at her father.
But she also loved her father… because, after all, he was her dad.
She loved her mother.
But she was also sad and frustrated for her mother and her choices.
Emotions blended themselves together in a flurry of confusion that Helga could neither distinguish or differentiate as it ebbed and flowed through her. When her mother at last had calmed enough to fall asleep for the night without the help from any of her vices, Helga traveled to her room and picked up the journal she had abandoned on the bed nearly an hour ago.
Opening the book, her eyes gravitated to the last lines that she had written before Olga had called.
All things end.
Even my parents' arguments.
Even this entry will end, which I HOPE will be soo
The word 'soon' had been interrupted and the letters mocked her from beyond the page—reminded her of the innocent girl who had penned them never knowing that a simple conversation would age her in ways she could neither understand nor explain.
Picking up the pen from inside the journal's crease, Helga raised it to begin writing on the next line down; abandoning the sentence she had started and never intended to return to.
All things end,
Helga wrote again, this time with care in each stroke of her pen.
But with each ending, there are also beginnings—beginnings to things that we never know when, or HOW they will change our lives.
With sudden fervor and a burst of hope, Helga wrote faster; a fire beneath the tip of her pen that propelled her along.
I think I'm GLAD that my parents are getting divorced.
Maybe even proud.
Not angry. Not sad. Not relieved… but PROUD.
'Why' you may ask, dear journal?
Because for the first time in my entire life, I feel like things could be really different. That, even though Miriam is super sad and is probably going to face the hardest part of her recovery, I really think she'll be successful. Maybe Olga will prove herself to be an actual sister without Bob around and maybe, just maybe, I'll get the family—broken though it may be—that I never thought I had but always DID have, but never knew it because I didn't know where the end of THAT family would lead.
I know, I know. That doesn't make much sense, but to ME it makes COMPLETE sense.
Do not fear for me, Journal. Helga G. Pataki is going to be JUST FINE. And I feel like I can say with complete confidence and honesty that this year—the 8th grade—is going to be my best year YET.
~Helga
Well, folks, what do you think?! I know this chapter was kind of a rough and tough one, but this is going to truly set the stage for all of next season which I am SOOO looking forward to! And, without further ado, here is the next season!
Always on SATURDAYS, these are the following posting dates:
February 13th
March 5th
March 27th
April 17th
May 8th
May 29th
As always, these dates are just GUIDELINES for when I will be posting. You can always see where I am at as well as updates and important information by following the hashtag #HelgaUnbound on both my TWITTER and my TUMBLR pages. Also, the pinned tweet on my Twitter will show you these dates in case you forget!
Thank you so much, as always, for having such faith and love for this story. I am so proud of what I have written and where this is going and I truly hope you enjoy it as much as I do writing it. SO... Please leave me a REVIEW! Let me know what you think, how you feel, if you liked it, what you're looking forward to, ALL OF IT! I can't wait to hear from you. Also, don't forget to FAVORITE this fic and SUBSCRIBE so you don't miss the next chapter.
See you all on February 13th!
Polka