Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.
Full Summary:: What was the saying? Good fences make great neighbors? Helga thinks she may come to regret her home purchase when she sets her eyes on the neighbor behind her. Or maybe just wish the fence was a lot taller...or shorter. She'd yet to decide.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and encouragement! I'm always a so nervous when I post a new story. Also I realized that I made two typos in the first chapter. First: It occurred to me that White Claw didn't exist in 2006. If I remember correctly we had something far cheesier. Smirnoff ICE.
Second: The last part of the chapter says Friday it was suppose to say Wednesday, but my brain is stupid sometimes. I've corrected both and updated since! Third: This chapter is (I think anyway) a lot funnier in vibe than the first, which is ultimately what I'm kind of going for vibe wise anyway. Ever listened to The Dandy Warhols "We used to be friends?" Yeah, thats the total vibe I envisioned with this story. lol Yeah, I'm an oddball, I know.
Kimagure Bijin: Yeah, the weed has kind of been on the nose in several of my stories now. Funny how that happens. Yes, everybody, I enjoy the devil's lettuce. Lolz.
FicFreak92: Helga Pataki: A series of (un)fortunate events! I think I missed a golden opportunity in titling this thing. Thank you for the kind words!
Smooth Pancakes: I've always hoovered in the teen-early twenty age range in most of my writing (here and outside) but, now that I'm older, I'm having more fun exploring characters as I see them at the age of thirty (or older).
acosta perez jose ramiro: Lol, Helga has the worst (or best) luck imaginable.
Veganmama: God, what a year for needing some damn joy indeed. Lol. This chapter is goofy (I think) so I hope it makes you laugh.
A Long Time Ago,
We Used to be Friends.
"Arnold...?" Helga heard the words come tumbling out of her mouth before she could snap it shut. Her voice sounding like a mix between surprise and...aggravation. More surprise she thought, considering it had been a hot, hot minute since she'd last seen him. Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes times twelve to be exact, but who was counting.
And now she had that dumb song stuck in her head—thank you, drama kids circa 2005. It was also quite possible she should have said something else already instead of getting temporarily taken hostage by her wandering train of thought.
Train wasn't a good representation of how her mind often worked. Stray cat was more appropriate. Her attention wandered like a stray cat.
His hair was a little more dirty blonde. He looked pretty much the same though...just older. Of course they both looked older. She could see the faint beginnings of crows feet at the corners of his eye, even though his beard did a decent job of diverting attention away from it. Though, it was 2018, what guy didn't have a beard those days? The most notable thing being that his beard was a dark auburn color, ebbing on the side of out right red. But now that she was thinking about it, she kind of remembered his mom having reddish brown hair.
And God...he still looked good too. Not that she had been actively wishing poor health upon him like a weirdo or anything—she'd pretty much blocked him from her mind—but if she had to see him again, couldn't he at least have had the decency to age poorly so she could take comfort in the fact that she'd dodged a bullet?
Apparently not!
"Helga?" Thank God, he finally replied, so she knew she hadn't just been standing there being weird, though, now that she knew that she should respond back she didn't know what else to say.
Go figure.
Thankfully, both girls giggled, their attentions surprisingly swayed away from their newly hatched adventures to each of their parents odd ball behavior before one of them finally asked, "You know each other?"
Both Helga and Arnold's eyes finally broke the lock they'd had with each other to look at their children, Helga finding her voice before he did, "Uh...yep. We do."
"How?"
"From school," Arnold slightly grinned at the girls, "Like you guys."
"That's cool. So we can we go play now or what?"
"They want to go jump on our trampoline," Helga said, casually waving off in the direction of said item.
"I heard," Arnold confirmed in a smiling voice, still looking at both girls.
"I don't care if they do. As long as you're okay with Payton being over here."
Arnold looked away from the excited girls and back to Helga and shrugged with a lopsided smile, "Yeah I'm fine with it. They'll probably just yell at each other through the fence if we don't."
The blonde woman snorted, crossing her arms as she hugged her mom jacket closed over her front, "Probably so."
"Yes!" The girls fist pumped as Payton ran over to the fence corner and began climbing up, using the side neighbor's fence as leverage to the top.
"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Arnold fussed at his daughter.
At that, Payton paused and cast her father an confused stare, "Um...going to jump on the trampoline?"
Her father rolled his green eyes, "I know that, but you don't need to be climbing like that."
"Dad...it's fine."
"We've literally been practicing," Zoey echoed her friend.
"Practicing?" Both Helga and Arnold asked together.
"How have you been practicing?"
"Yeah, you've literally only known you live next to one another for an hour," Helga pointed out.
Arnold nodded, perching his hands on his hips in dad stance as he continued to eyeball his daughter, "And I just told you that you could go over there."
Both girls shrugged, "Why would you say no?" Payton asked before she threw her leg over the edge of the fence, hopping down into the Brazel yard, running off with Zoey to the trampoline and leaving both parental units temporarily speechless.
"Apparently...they had practiced in the ten minutes it took me to walk out here," Helga shook her head, glancing at the girls one last time before turning back to Arnold, who was also still shaking his head.
"I need to get that girl into rock climbing..." He muttered, before they both seemed to sense the awkward silence that befell them now that they didn't have their children to act as a medium for conversation. Probably thinking about how the last words spoken between them had been littered with profanities and an awkward, one sided, assault kiss and much like she did, Helga imagined that he had a million questions that neither dared to ask at that point. Once again, her mind strayed, and thankfully, to a more important topic.
"So..." She finally broke the silence, "What time should I send her home?" Indeed, important parent things. She should probably ask about food allergies as well. God forbid she be responsible for some kids unfortunate demise because of a...fruit role-up intolerance or whatever.
But one thing at a time.
"Uh...just...throw her over the fence when you're sick of her."
"Ah," Helga popped her eyebrows and nodded once. Jokester that one, apparently. "Well, easy enough."
"Also, if she starts asking for snacks, kindly remind her we have them at home."
Helga snorted. She also saw the perfect segue into her previous mental inquiry, "On the off chance that I'm feeling generous and feed her said snack...any allergies?"
Arnold shook his head, "Not that we've found."
"Wonderful."
"Yours?"
"Nope. Not food anyway." She could feed hers anything she wanted. Except after midnight. "Penicillin will do her in though." She didn't know why she said that aloud. What situation would they ever be in that required him to give her child an emergency dose of antibiotics?
Unless he was a doctor. She hadn't considered that. Though...he didn't look like a doctor. Don't ask her how she came to that assessment, because she wouldn't be able to tell you.
But Arnold nodded like he was interested in her daughter's allergy, lips down-turning into a brief but considering scowl, "So, Payton tells me you guys were living in Seattle before." Or maybe he wasn't, because that was a total topic change.
"Ah, yep," Helga nodded, now wondering just how much Zoey had told Payton—and subsequently—how much Arnold knew about her life already, "Sure did."
"What brought you back to Hillwood?" Oh good...he was either being polite or he genuinely didn't know much, if anything. Hopefully the latter.
"It was work related." The great thing about saying that, was that it was a half truth, and therefore...she slept fine at night.
"That's cool."
She wasn't quite sure about all that just yet, but whatever, she refrained from being weird and saying it aloud, merely moving on to more interesting topic, "Zoey tells me that you and Payton are newly back to the area as well?" Or just re-purposing already asked questions.
That worked too.
Arnold chuckled and tilted his head side to side before saying, "Kind of. We were living in Renton. You know where that is. About fifteen minutes south of here," Helga nodded, "The school district was...not so great so, here we are. Plus its nice just being...right down the road from my parents. Anyway, not to rush but...I'm in the middle of painting my doors."
Again, Helga snorted, "Okay." She said while giving him a knowing smirk.
Which sent a flush or red across Arnold's cheek tops not hidden by his beard, "I know that sounds like I just made it up, but I really am. The last homeowner left scuffs all over every door and I can't figure out how, and I'm just getting around to covering them up."
The blonde waved him off with a amused, lopsided smile drawing to her face. His desperate attempt to explain himself was cute, "People do peculiar things to expensive items." Personally she'd never understood how some people would take one of the biggest investments in life—a house—and treat it like garbage. But whatever, discussions for other times, "I'll shot-put her back over the fence once I've grown tired of all the squealing and giggling."
Arnold chuckled as he turned to talk back towards his house, "Sounds like a plan. Thanks!" He waved and they both parted ways.
Helga scooped up her step stool and hauled it past the girls who were boisterously jumping on the trampoline and back into her house where she sat it down in the kitchen before pulling her phone out to ring Phoebe. She completely skipped the casual phone etiquette formalities and went straight to, "Listen to the bizarr-o world I'm suddenly living in," The very moment she heard her friend's voice.
"Oohkaaayyy..."
"Arnold is my next door neighbor. Well technically, back neighbor but same—"
"Shortman?"
Helga frowned and made a face, "Who else?"
"Oh, wow."
"I know! Ain't this some shit?" Helga ran her hand through her hair before turning and looking out through the back glass.
"Did you see him in the yard just now or..."
"Oh no...no, no," Helga cynically snorted, "Even better. Remember me telling you about Zoey's new little friend Payton? Yeah, uh...overlooked minor detail, her last name is Shortman!"
"Oh goodness."
"You literally...can't make this stuff up!"
"If I were you I'd probably just settle in. Those two sound like they're going to be best friends for awhile."
"I know and I'm fine with the normal parental chatter involved with said friendship, but...I honestly didn't even know what to do around him. I can't stop replaying Rhonda's party in my head." Helga reached up and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index, "Go figure. Twelve years later and I'm still overthinking dumb-ass teenage behavior."
"Hmm...speaking of which is he married?"
"What?" Helga dropped her hand and frowned, "I don't know. I literally only talked to him for like...five minutes...one hundred percent about our kids and...where we'd lived before. Why?"
"I was just thinking that...you'll probably end up meeting Payton's mom at some point and she'll probably just take over the kid stuff and you wont see him that much anyway." God bless all the fathers and all, but...
"Yeah...I guess there's that," Helga trailed off, seeing a possible, yet, silver lining.
"You know, the first clue would be if he had a ring."
And at that, Helga ran a hand down her face, "He was on the other side of the privacy fence and I wasn't paying that close of attention. Besides, some men don't like rings," She pointed out, considering her ex-husband had never worn his a day in his life and only because he hated wearing any and all jewelry. She finally exhaled, "He still looks good too. He has a beard now. An auburn one."
She heard Phoebe snort, "As expected."
"What? His beard?"
"No. That he still looks good."
"How was that expected? It was just as likely that he could have let himself go."
"You wouldn't be so lucky."
Helga opened her mouth for a snappy come-back but decided against it once her mind wrapped around the truthfulness of the statement, "Eh...you're right." She wouldn't come right and say that she had poor luck necessarily, simply because her life, while having some bumps had been pretty dang good, but when she did need luck the most—aka, moving next door to the guy that she had been in love/obsessed with in her youth, was a total weirdo meanie to the last she'd seen him and on top of all that he still looked good—yeah, that was kind of the gold metal of bad luck. Oh what? She was newly single too? Get out of here with that crap. "I just don't know what to do about this."
"Don't do anything at all. Don't even think about it. It's just a...odd ball happenstance," Phoebe replied, attempting to help her friend in discontinuing the overthinking, "Quite frankly, it's a non-situation. He's just some guy who you crushed on over a decade ago. Who most likely has a wife anyway. Worry about yourself."
That might have been the nicest way somebody had ever told her to stay in her own lane. "Actually...that's probably good advice. It is a non-situation."
"Mom!" She turned hearing galloping and the shouting of her...small human given name, "Can we have a snack?" Ah, of course. Fifteen whole minutes of jumping warranted a re-charging with snacks. But only junk food would do the trick. Kid science 101.
"I'll call you back Pheebs," She said before pocketing the phone, "Cheetos or go-gurt. That's all we've got. I haven't been grocery shopping this week."
"Cheetos!" They both shouted. Helga shook her head as she wandered to the pantry and retrieved the half bag of orange goodies before handing them over to small, hungry hands.
"Here. Away with you, you filthy animals," She jokingly mocked, shooing them back out the door, where she watched them return to the trampoline to eat.
Night.
So she hadn't exactly shot-putted Payton back over the fence, the little monkey had beaten her to it by springing back over in the same way she'd gotten over in the first place. Much to her father's chagrin. But hey, there wasn't a good way back and forth. And they both knew that there would be back and forth.
"Can we play again tomorrow?" Zoey asked the minute Payton's fit hit the ground in front of Arnold.
"Yeah can we?" The other brown haired, brown eyed girl looked hopefully at her father.
"If you want. If Mr. Shortman is okay with it," Helga said, inwardly cringing over the fact that she'd called him Mr. Shortman. Hell, she often cringed over being called Mrs. Brazel because it made her feel old. Or like her ex-mother-in-law. A woman who had never been a big fan of hers for stealing her boy away from her. Whatever that meant. It wasn't like she had kidnapped him or something.
"I don't really see anyway of stopping it without being pestered to death," Arnold replied, looking over the fence to catch Helga's agreeing eye.
Ah yes, parent jokes. But he was absolutely correct. There would not be a moment's peace if the two were denied joint adventure. Of course, she being a woman and therefore, smarter than man, she had a slightly better idea of what to do about it, "Would it be easier if they got off the bus here verses climbing twice? At least until the end of the week." Seemed like an agreeable idea. Unless of course, he'd been speaking with her ex-mother-in-law and was thoroughly convinced that she had at least one kidnapping under her belt.
Then maybe not.
"Um, actually...yeah," Arnold nodded, both of his hands wrapping over the top of the fence as he pulled up to better see his parental cohort, "If you don't mind."
Helga played cool, waving him off, "Not at all." Oh good, he viewed her as trustworthy and competent enough to remove not one, but two ten year olds from a bus.
"Alright, yeah then," He turned back and looked down at his daughter, "Payton, if you want to hang out with Zoey after school, just get off the bus with her."
"Yes!"
Despite Phoebe's honest attempts to convince her friend that living next to Arnold was a non-issue, Helga was still inwardly groaning about her dumb luck, even as she sat at the dinner table, quietly forking lemon chicken into her mouth while her daughter tiredly ate across from her. At least Zoey would be falling asleep without protest that night. Another small silver lining she supposed.
But literally, of all the children running around the elementary school to be friends with, she had to pick Arnold Shortman's sprog? Really? Really?!
Have kids they said. It'll be fun they said.
Well, she had but the one, and that one was turning out to be a real liability as of late. Not really, but it sounded more dramatic that way.
Technically it was her fault and her fault alone. She didn't have to move to Hillwood. She could have moved anywhere else, or...just stayed in Seattle, taken a chance with the sketchy school system from middle school up, hoped that Zoey didn't fall into a bad crowd in ninth grade, get a boob tattoo, acquire a thirst for Jagermeister and self destructive behavior before dropping out of school and running off to Los Angeles with a boy who went by the name Axel and had knuckle tattoos while she and her ex-husband desperately tried to pinpoint where they'd gone wrong in child rearing.
So...maybe she was being ridiculous, and good lord did she ever have an over active imagination. And an ability to exaggerated. The school system wasn't even that bad. Just not award winning like the one in Hillwood.
Zoey perked up with a question, though Helga was sort of convinced it was an attempt to put off eating her broccoli. "Was Mr. Shortman like, your friend or something?"
And if Helga had been a little less consumed in trying to figure out how to cope with life at that point, maybe she would have had something better to say than a mumbling, "In another life he would have been your father..."
"What?"
The blonde stopped chewing, glad that Zoey hadn't made out her jumbled sentence because it made her sound resentful of her ex-husband, when it couldn't be further from the truth. She had literally been making a dumb joke that no ten year old would understand and it was stupid of her. It was also a stupid joke, "I said, yes, we were friends up until college." Though acquaintances would have been a more appropriate description. Maybe even arch acquaintances, but it was completely one sided, and her daughter probably didn't even know what that word meant.
Predictably, Zoey then frowned a little, "What did you just stop or something?"
The concept of friendship ceasing was lost on her social butterfly of a child, and not all that surprising. She was ten. She hadn't grown apart from anybody in life yet, "No, I started dating your dad and we moved away." Short and simple and not entirely a lie which meant she would be sleeping just fine that night. Sure, she was omitting some key details like how they hadn't really been friends, or how mean she was, or that her assault lips that were probably still wanted in the town limits of Hillwood and she could possibly be arrested any day, but it was generally what had happened.
Why did she move there again? Oh yeah, something about a fresh start and money and...a fictitious guy named Axel with knuckle tattoos.
"Oh. That makes sense," Zoey nodded, continuing to move her broccoli around, but finishing her scalloped potatoes as the two resumed their mostly silent meal.
Unfortunately the silence had Helga replaying Phoebe's question from earlier. Was Arnold married? She supposed that it didn't really matter if he was or wasn't. Like she cared. She was just hella curious was all. Though...curious wasn't really the word to describe her. No.
Nosy.
Nosy is what she was, yeah.
"So..." Helga began as she casually took a sip of her water, "Is Payton's mom out of town this week or...?" Look at her. Soliciting her ten year old for some scoop. Pathetic.
She waited with bated breath though.
Zoey only shrugged, still trying to will her broccoli into non-existence so that she wouldn't have to eat it, "I don't know. She's never mentioned her mom."
"Ah."
Well that told her everything and nothing at all. Or...perhaps it told her that she and Arnold were in a similar boat. After all, he was also thirty with a ten year old which meant that more than likely, Payton was a walking, talking 'uh oh' much like Zoey was. She wasn't sure how she felt about sharing the boat, considering she wasn't exactly looking to start an early thirties lonely hearts club. Join one...yeah maybe. Start one, no. Of course it was all one hundred percent speculation based off of vague comments from her ten year old.
He could be a polygamist for all she knew, though she hoped not because she felt like she would be obligated to turn him into authorities, and that might start things off on the wrong foot.
Thursday.
How long had it been? Two weeks since she'd been working out of her new house? She didn't know what about it was so different feeling than when she'd been literally, doing the same exact thing out of her parents house for a solid three months. Perhaps it was because she wanted to avoid her parents and subsequently, the rest of their dusty, dated abode like the plague. But now she had this nice new house and she was afraid she was going to come to hate it because of cabin fever. Was her hate of people enough to sustain her?
It remained to be seen.
Sandy gave her strength though.
That day was pretty average though. Breakfast, put Zoey on the bus, work at her computer, a decision to get dressed mid morning, a breakfast snack, twenty minutes of reading a Reddit no sleep story about the wendigo, work, lunch with weird vibes, more work, a micro nap that solely consisted of resting her eyes while leaning back in her office chair, a standing post lunch snack while she stared at Arnold's house followed by a twenty minute phone call with a superintendent while laying in the bathtub. And no, there was no water in said bathtub either.
Anyway, normal Helga things. And then it was time to get Thing One and Thing Two off of the bus because for some reason she'd volunteered that on herself. Like it was out of her way or something—it wasn't. It was either that, or watch two ten year olds gnaw at the fence like a pair feral, possibly rabid coyotes.
Predictably, there weren't any problems and no sprinting home like there was a bathroom emergency like the day before. Just animated chatting about whatever. School things Helga supposed, but she wasn't paying that much attention. Her mind having wandered to the fact that she lived in prime wendigo country, and even though she didn't believe in such, she took a firm don't ask, don't tell policy with the supernatural.
"Can we have a snack?" Zoey immediately asked as she threw her book bag down, trotting behind her mom into the kitchen.
"There's a couple of bananas on the hanger," Helga absently waved as she went to refill her yeti.
"I don't know about those..." She heard Payton remark, and she was almost about to be a little peeved that Arnold's sprog wasn't appreciative of fruit, but when she turned around and saw the sad, black spotted, slightly golden fruits pathetically dangling there, one having committed suicide already she grimaced.
"Yikes...those bananas have some threatening auras," She agreed before pointing to the fridge, "There's some cheese sticks in the fridge."
"Awesome!" The girls went rifling through the produce drawer before finding the dairy snack.
"Thank you Mrs. Brazel."
"You can call me Helga. If you want," She told Payton, really hoping she took her up on the offer because she was already tired of sounding forty-five and older.
"Hey, did I ever tell you our house is haunted?" She heard Zoey mention as they walked away.
"No way?"
Saturday.
"Mom...mom...mom." Helga heard and felt the hot tickle of breath in her ear as she tried to enjoy not having to hear her alarm because it was the damn weekend. Kids had a sixth sense. She was pretty sure scientist were close to proving it. If offspring knew you were enjoying something...they appeared, like a thief in the night, and sought to undo any of that nonsense.
She'd tried to play dead. She tried to play dead many of mornings, but Zoey had gotten smarter, and knew that her mom slept like a feather. Knowing this she finally opened a single blue eye from where her face lay on her pillow, arms tucked underneath, "Why are you awake?" She groaned the first thought to come to mind.
Zoey inhaled dramatically, "The skies awake, so I'm aw—"
"Don't." That movie that shall never be named in her household again.
"Okay well, can I go over to Payton's? She said her dad doesn't care." And Helga couldn't help but notice that Zoey's voice displayed a sense of urgency. Like they were burning daylight at 7:15 in the morning.
"Crimeny, don't you two see each other enough at this point?"
"We're going to go play with some other kids on her street."
Unfortunately for Helga, whether she agreed to it or not, there would be no going back to sleep. Her slumber had already been disturbed. Her only option was to get up, and then maybe browse for a door lock her daughter wouldn't be able to figure out how to Jimmie. And perhaps give in to her request to go play because the flip side of that would be listening to her whine like a dying animal until sundown. "Let me get up..." She finally said with an audible, aggravated sigh.
"Can I just go ahead and go?"
Her mom snorted while pushing up with her palms and flipping over onto her back, rubbing her palms over her eyes, "Negative Ghost rider." She then sat up and flung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached to her bedside table for a hair tie. "I need to get some deets from Mr. Shortman." She pulled her hair back into a pony tail and slowly dragged her tired carcass to her feet. Zoey quietly huffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at her mother's back as she wandered to the bathroom, "Roll your eyes at me again and you wont be doing anything."
"You couldn't even see me," Zoey dropped her arms with a dejected groan.
"I can sense you with my mom powers," Helga threw her snarky offspring a deadpanned look before reaching for her toothbrush. Zoey impatiently stood at the doorway of her mom's bathroom, watching her burn precious playtime with basic morning routines such as dental hygiene and face washing. Helga finally eyeballed her while wiping her face off, "Did you brush you teeth this morning?"
"Yes," The girl replied only to have her mother's gaze intensify suspiciously, "I did!" Helga hung the towel back up before walking past her sprog to throw on a pair of shoes and her mom jacket before they both trotted downstairs. Well, Zoey barrelled, because she barrelled everywhere. Helga trudged all pre-coffee like.
"Did you at least eat breakfast?" Helga tried again as Zoey yanked open the sliding back door.
"I had a pop-tart!" She announced as she ran out into the backyard.
Helga hardly considered a pop-tart food, much less sustenance, however Zoey had this superpower where she could eat a single frosted brown sugar cinnamon and it would somehow sustain her for six to nine hours.
Her daughter was a bird. She certainly flailed enough to be one.
The still sleepy blonde peeked into the backyard and saw Payton propped up on the corner of the fence, excitedly peering into their backyard. And with a sigh she embarked out into the brisk September morning to go do some important parental things. "Hey Payton," She greeted as she walked closer to the fence.
"Hey Mrs. Helga!" Ah, yes that sounded slightly more hip, "Can Zoey come over? My dad doesn't care."
Helga smiled, "I'm sure he doesn't but, do you mind going and getting him anyway?"
"Yep!" Payton nodded and jumped off the fence to sprint back into her house.
And yet again, mother and daughter waited for father and daughter to return so that a page could be established and that they all could get on it. Thankfully it didn't take nearly as long as the first time, which Arnold popping out into the backyard rather quickly and hopping up onto the fence to smile down at his neighbor with a, "Good morning!"
Helga smiled back all the while thinking that it would have been much better had she still been in bed, or with coffee. In bed with coffee. "Indeed. So uh...it has been brought to my attention that our children insist on occupying your dwelling or something another."
"Oh yes, mine as well."
"So you're fine with it?"
"Sure am."
Helga gave him two thumbs up, "Have at it then. Throw her back over the fence when you're ready for her to leave. She's tougher than she looks."
Saturday. Two Weeks Later.
Helga had a child free weekend. The first child free weekend in her own house. Which meant she was going to go wild. She slept in that morning to 8:00am, she was going to stain her bare ass deck out back since her she would be left in peace, probably have some sort of falafel Greek pita contraption for dinner since she wouldn't have to listen to complaints from that needy, but opinionated roommate of hers, and then, if she were feeling jazzy, she might even have a glass of wine and start a book before 8:00pm. Or get high. Either way it was happening before 8:00pm.
Hot. Dog.
Well, she'd checked off the sleeping in part for Saturday and she'd mentally agreed with herself to be productive with the deck. She'd even committed by buying the stain, because she knew how she liked to procrastinate. After her first cup of coffee, she threw on her 'yard clothes', grabbed a second cup of coffee and slinked out onto said deck into the crisp sunny morning. First thing she heard, a mower.
Specifically, Shortman's mower. At first she wanted to march over and explain to him that mowing was no longer necessary because the grass was dormant in her best 'bless your heart' condescending voice. Until she realized that he was using it to suck up the fallen leaves scattered around his yard...like a genius.
Fine. Carry on. She also had important adult yard things to do so, yeah.
The top of the list being that she really needed to inspect that deck. Something she'd kept saying she was going to do it, but continued to forget. And she didn't trust her pre-purchase inspectors word.
The previous homeowner was a cheapo—possibly a murderer or into the occult too—anyway, the point was she wasn't going to hold her breath. Flipping on her cell phone light, she knelt down to peer under at the substructure, looking for the things that suggested it had integrity and maybe even be up to code. "Well that's shocking..." She murmured with raised eyebrows as she saw a surprisingly well built sub-structure.
With that, she went to work prepping to roll on her light brown stain, because she was all into that bland color-scape. No sooner had she started rolling on her first coats than she heard the rumble of the mower cease and a smiling, "Hidy ho neighbor."
Of course he was talking to her, who else would he be? She also wondered if he was being funny with a Home Improvement joke, or if he had no idea. With the type of person she remembered him being, it could be either. But, not to be weird or rude she turned around and indeed saw him peeking over his fence with a bearded smile. "Good morning!" She waved, "Taking care of leaves?"
"Yeah," He nodded, "Easier than raking."
So, she had this thing, maybe even a peeve, where she couldn't stand a yelling conversation. Because she hated it, she reluctantly put down her roller and strolled into her yard and the short distance over to the fence so they could converse at normal volume, "I hear that."
"So you're kid-less this weekend I hear?"
Helga chuckled and returned the nod, "Yeah. Zoey is with her dad until Sunday night."
"Payton doesn't know what to do with herself."
"Aw, she'll be back before she knows it. Where is she anyway?"
"Playing with the two boys across the street. Last time I looked they were have a Star wars duel with pool noodles."
"You've got to admire the ingenuity of kids."
"Seriously. So, I've been thinking...seeing as our girls have become best friends forever right now, I think it would be in our best interest to exchange numbers," Arnold coolly suggested, which caught Helga off guard just a little. It made sense, from a parental stand point, but she wasn't sure she wanted that much power at the tip of her fingers.
Like what if she started drunk texting him or something? She didn't even have a habit of texting while drunk to begin with, but she was thirty and divorced and itching for a new character flaw!
And also...where was this wife at?! He was Arnold Shortman. She had to exist somewhere!
But she played cool anyway, "Yeah...you may be onto something. This fence is starting to give me splinters."
Arnold reached around and pulled his phone from his back pocket, still hanging slightly over the fence and said, "Just give me yours and I'll text you mine."
"Three, nine, nine...three, nine, four, four." And within seconds, her phone was vibrating with a text containing Arnold's contact information, "Well, looks like we're good to go then." She added the contact to her phone book. "Anyway, not to run, but I've got stain that's...drying."
"Oh, yeah. Good luck!"
"Yeah, you too!" And immediately feeling like that was a dumb response she clarified with, "With the leaves."
Arnold smirked as Helga turned and walked back over to her project.
6:30pm and Helga had just sat down on her freshly stained deck, still reeking of polyurethane vapor, with a propane fire pit that she stole from her ex-husband, roaring away. Like he was ever home enough to use it anyway. He probably didn't even notice it missing to be honest. She had scarfed down a homemade falafel pita to die for, and was just achy enough from her hard labor that day to want to get high and chill while fire gazing in the dark.
She was about halfway through her 'cig', feeling really good when she heard the most horrendous scraping noise coming from Arnold's house. It came about so quick she jumped, nearly swallowing smoke as she snapped her head over to see him with his grill open, scrapping the grates with a wire brush.
In a mild amount of panic, she quickly exhaled and put out her joint, hoping that a breeze didn't materialize like in turn of the century Micky Mouse cartoon—the creepy ones—and carry that unmistakable scent right over to him like it was a damn apple pie on an open window pane.
No, Arnold it isn't what it looks like...it's exactly what it looks like. And honestly, while she didn't care, because the future was now, there were still people that were weirded out about it. One of those people could be her daughter's new best friend's father.
He didn't seem to notice her, and so she didn't call anymore attention to herself for the time being, choosing to just stare at the fire. What finally drew her eyes away from it was the lovely smell of charring meat. Of course, he then caught her looking his way and waved and said, "How's it going?!" In an elevated voice.
Helga waved back and replied, "Good you?"
"Just cooking dinner."
"Smells good!" And even though she literally, just ate thirty minutes prior, she was suddenly hungry again. His food did smell good, but she had to be real with herself, the munchies were already coming on and there was a bag of corn nuts inside calling her name.
"Steak!"
Sunday Afternoon.
The deal was, whoever Zoey was going with, was the one that picked her up, so, with that rule in place, and rightfully so, Helga found herself pulling into the driveway of her old house as she had a handful of times by that point, to fetch her child. She let herself in, though she supposed at some point she should start knocking for the sake of formalities. She didn't spy anybody, but she heard quite a bit of laughter peculating from out back. And it was her ex, Zoey and about five other neighborhood kids having a make-shift soccer game.
Smirking she slide open the glass door and hung her head out the crack, "You're going to be hating it in the morning if you don't stop." She teasingly warned him. He jogged to a stop, smiled and waved before striding over with his hands on his hips, looking winded.
"Hey mom!" Zoey shouted, but showed no interest in stopping her game. She was very competitive. Helga supposed that she got that from her. She also had about two hours of day light left and she was very much a home-when-the-street-lights-came-on kid.
"You're early," Her ex remarked as she backed up, widening the door for him to step in.
Helga rolled her eyes, "By like an hour and a half or whatever." He popped his brows and walked past her, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it in a nearby chair before pulling his baseball hat from his head, revealing his short almost completely grey white head of hair. He'd had the unfortunate ailment of premature greying, and had literally started going grey in his early teens. Of course nobody batted an eye—or noticed—because of his love of headgear and their schools generous wardrobe policy. At least he wasn't bald like his father. Of course it made Helga wonder if Zoey would start going grey too when she hit her teens seeing as she had his dark brown hair. Hopefully not, but it might be a badass look. "So, what have you two been up to all weekend?"
He finally turned and eyed her as they stepped into the kitchen, crossing his arms while casting her a lopsided smirk, "Stayed up late watching Halloween movies..."
"Ha...bet you loved that." It was kind of a known thing in the former Brazel household, that he hated scary things, and generally spooked easily.
"It's September though, I don't get it."
"She says she's preparing for October," Helga waved her hand absently, "Preparing for what I don't know. I told you she thinks our house is haunted so it could be anything."
Her ex proceeded to grimace at the mere thought before choosing to inhale, "Anyway, we went trail riding all yesterday and she's just been hanging with her friends all day today."
"Oh good, you wore her out for me tonight," She teased.
Tossing his brown eyes he began staring more intently at her with a more knowing expression drawing to his lips, "So, I got a suspicious money transfer last week."
"Wow," Helga played dumb with her own smirk as she leaned against the fridge, "Sounds like an early Christmas miracle."
He snorted, "Oh come on, I know you did it."
"Hey, it's not my fault you keep refusing to cash the check I wrote you for Ken," Literally, she never encountered the problem of someone not wanting her money. What was wrong with the world?
"Because I told you not to worry about it."
"Well, I am going to worry about it. We agreed to split it." She hated somebody picking up the tab for her. Always had, and probably always would. She wasn't derelict and she had her own money. It was like he had a hard time understanding that or something. But...as irritating as it was, it wasn't not the end of the world.
The taller guy chuckled and shook his head, "I'm just going to transfer it right back, you know."
"Better yet," She shoved off of the fridge, "Why not do something productive with it?" She suggested.
"Like what?"
"Like...replacing the dining room table set I took with me?" She waved off to the mostly empty room.
Her ex only chuckled, "Why? It's just me. I can eat at the bar..." He trailed off for a moment, ducking to look out into the back yard, "Speaking of...did you take the fire pit recently?"
"Oh, you did notice. Shocking."
"I thought somebody had stolen it."
"Yeah, I took it a couple weeks ago and put it on my deck so yeah...I guess technically I stole it," She shrugged, looking off for a moment. Was it stealing if one still had a key and was once a co-owner of said item? Debates for later, "How's work?"
"Busy, as usual. How's working from home going?"
"Eh, not as awesome as I thought it would be."
"Hmm...well, maybe they'll let you start going into the office a little bit if you ask."
"We'll see," She agreed, "I may just need longer to adjust."
"So...I finally got some new bedroom furniture," He smiled, looking a bit excited and proud of himself which made Helga chuckle.
"What? You finally have enough of feeling like a teenager again sleeping in a full size bed?" She'd taken their queen suite, and moved the full sized guest into their old room for him. Not because she was greedy with their stuff. No, it had been a purely practical decision. He was never home, she slept in it every night. She needed it more than he did. The end.
"Well that and that bed just is not comfortable at all."
"That's because we never planned on anybody ever actually sleeping on it when we bought it," She chuckled. Come to think of it, she didn't really even understand the point of a 'guest bedroom'. They never had guest! It was merely a desire not to have an empty bedroom.
She caught his eyes wandered to see the situation outside once again before turning back to her, "Want to go see?" He smiled coyly at her though his tone was trying to be as innocent as possible. Yet she knew what he was doing. And...she'd shown up a bit early on purpose anyhow so...she was gamw.
"Sure," She agreed, thinning her eyes a bit at him with a smirk before following him up the stairs and into their old quarters to see the most basic looking dark wood bedroom set imaginable. "Wow...it's very...practical." She chuckled.
About forty-five minutes later, Zoey came inside seeking a glass of water, and while she was standing at the fridge, filling up her water bottle she realized she didn't see either of her parents anywhere. She first wandered to the garage, knowing that on many occasions her parents had stood out there, chattering while her dad wrenched on his dirt bikes. But they weren't there, and they didn't appear to be out in the front yard either, so with that, and her curiosity fully peaked, she lunged up to steps and began spying each room until she got to her dad room and encountered a locked door.
Quirking a brow, she intended to go to her room and find one of those little lock jimmy keys that they used to keep over the door way for every room, but no sooner had thought thought crossed her mind then her dad was wrenching it open while giving her a funny smile, "What's up kiddo?"
The young girl looked past her father, expecting to see her mom somewhere, but didn't, "Where's mom?" She said in a mildly suspicious tone.
"In the bathroom."
"Oh...why?"
Her dad chuckled, "To use it I guess."
"Why was the door locked?"
"Because I was fixing the hinge bolts and didn't want you bursting in and pinching my fingers."
"That's cool. Why were you guys up here? Something interesting?" If anybody wanted to know where Zoey got her nosiness from, look no further than the woman who birthed her. "Oh! We're you taking about what you're getting me for Christmas?" Her eyes suddenly lit up, thinking that she was on to something.
Yet, again, without skipping a beat, her father motioned back at the room, "I was showing her my new bedroom set. I can't decide what type of night stands I should get. And if you keep trying to barge in everywhere you're going to get a big, wheelbarrow full of coal."
To which Zoey laughed heartily, "Yeah right. You guys love me."
Her ex-husband possessed a superpower. A superpower that was only appreciated when one had kids or was maybe a super player. The ability to get in and out of clothes like Bruce Almighty when time was of the essence, then subsequently produce excuses for what was clearly some adult activity that would impress even Shaggy. For instance, he stood at the bedroom door, somehow fully clothed, rattling off believable excuses to their inquiring ten year old while she—the mortal—hobbled around in the bathroom trying to figure out how her leggings suddenly only had one leg, how her bra just out right didn't fit anymore, underwear, lost forever, and no matter how many times she turned her shirt right side out, it was still inside out. Somehow!
Toddlers clothed themselves faster than she could.
Of course all of it was merely a symptom of the bigger situation. That despite being divorced they were still sleeping together on occasion? Yeah...that.
From the makers of the smash hit pre-marital sex comes...Post-marital sex! All the fun, but with seventy-five percent more confusion!
Okay yes, she realized that doing what she was doing flew right in the face of her needing a fresh start in Hillwood. She was well aware that continuing a relationship, even a casual sexual one, didn't suggest a desire to start new. But it was the God's honest truth and the fact of the matter was, they didn't have a contentious divorce and actually had a better relationship with one another now that the pressure was off.
And no, there wasn't any intention of trying to reconcile anything down the road. They were both just lazy if anything. And maybe a little set in their ways, although she hated that term because it made her sound eighty years old.
He knew what she liked, and she knew what he liked. See? Lazy.
She did want to start dating again...eventually. Though...she wasn't even sure if she knew how to date. He'd literally been her one and only date. Like ever. She also disliked most of the human population so...perhaps the odds were against her. However, that was...some of the purpose of the fresh start.
To...do new things!
She was doing her own thing, he was doing his own thing and eventually they would phase out everything that didn't involve their child. That's how she saw it.
Anyway, the stars aligned long enough for her to finally get redressed before throwing her hair up into a messy bun because, well it looked suspicious, and even though her daughter was ten and still clueless about that stuff, it was the principal of the matter. After giving the toilet an alibi flush she opened the door and stepped back out into the bedroom to see Zoey watching intently as her dad was showing her how the hinge pins in doors slowly worked their way up over time. "Oh, hey mom. What do you think of dad's new furniture?"
"Ah..." Helga began, perching her hands on her hips as she gave the disheveled bed a fleeting glance, knowing that there was a strong possibility that her face was already a little red, "It's nice. Sturdy," She quickly cleared her throat, "What are you doing in here anyway? You've got a little less than an hour to play before we leave."
"I know," Zoey shrugged and took a sip from her water bottle, "I came in for some water and just wondered where you went," She small girl explained as they all three walked back out into the hallway.
"Well, go play. I don't want to hear any complaints on the way home," Helga instructed before her daughter trotted back down the stairs and back out into the yard.
Monday
Bright and early, but still in her pajamas, Helga found herself staring out the back glass at Arnold's house with thinned eyes while quietly blowing on her cup of coffee. "Day nineteen and there seems to be no signs of intelligent wife anywhere..."
She snorted.
Oh come on, that was funny! She'd have to remember to tell Phoebe that one later. But no, for real, it had been over two weeks of...well, realizing each other existed in such close proximity and she'd yet to encounter the elusive Mrs. Shortman. She'd yet to see hide nor hair of Payton's mother in fact. She was beginning to believe that she didn't exist which meant...he definitely wasn't a polygamist so...she could rest easy on that one. However, it did bring up other possibilities. More sad ones frankly. What if her mom was...dead? What if Arnold was a widower?
Yes, well that took on a noticeably more solemn tone, an anyway, she had some actual work to get to instead of blue steeling his house like it was her job.
Saturday.
It was one of those rare weekend mornings where Helga got to wake up on her own will versus being jostled awake by a brown fury demanding to be let out in the backyard. Jesus, people would think she had a dog with that type of description...of course...at times Zoey might as well have been. The point was, it meant that she could slowly wake up, go down stairs, make some coffee and get breakfast started...in peace. Hmm...maybe she should let her stay up until midnight watching movies more often. It paid in spades come morning.
Pancakes it would be that morning, because they were easy to make and delicious and nobody ever complained about getting them. And the blonde woman had just sat down at the kitchen bar to enjoy her first round of Joe while her pancake griddle heated up when she heard a tiny knock at her back sliding door. Thinking that surely it was a bird, she twisted her body around and was surprised and, admittedly a little alarmed to see Payton waving through the glass with a wide smile. Quirking an inquisitive brow, Helga hopped up from her stool an went to the door, sliding it open, "Hey Payton...everything okay?" Did her father need help? Was he down a well? Had he fallen and couldn't get up?
Because if so...she didn't know squat about any first aid that didn't involve a band-aid and a feel better kiss.
"Yeah, I was just kind of bored this morning."
"Oh...okay well..." Lovely. She'd always dreamed of being the house that all the neighborhood kids showed up to like stray cats. "You want to come in?"
The brown haired little girl nodded, "Sure. If it's okay."
"It's fine," She waved her off.
"Is Zoey up yet?" Payton asked as she strolled into the Brazel house, following Helga into the kitchen.
"She's still asleep. She stayed up late."
"Oh. What are you making?" Payton then asked, eyeing the batter that Helga had in a mixing bowl and the hot electric griddle beside it.
"I'm about to make some pancakes," Helga smiled down at her as she sat her coffee down beside the stove. Now she could have sent her back home, though she really needed to text Arnold, or sent her upstairs to wake up the sleeping bear, but she seemed generously interested in the pancakes, "You want to help?"
"Can I?"
"Yep! Just give me one second," Helga walked back to the kitchen counter and retrieved her phone, shooting Arnold a quick, 'Not to alarm you but...Payton showed up at my backdoor this morning. We're making pancakes.' Before pocketing it and returning to the griddle. "Okay, we're going to grab that one fourth measuring cup there and ladle a little bit of batter onto the griddle, oh but first," She grabbed the block of butter she'd sat out, "We need lots of butter."
Arnold didn't see the text right away, in fact a solid twenty minutes went by before he finally rolled over in his bed and dragged his cell from the bedside, solely to check the time. Of course he woke up fairly quickly when he read his neighbors text, eyes widening before he hurriedly ripped the blankets from his legs. He could have just texted her back, or even called but...he was more of at a loss of what to say at that point. And a little embarrassed. What was he suppose to say?
'Sorry my kid likes to wander?'
Nah. He needed to go fetch that little turd himself. Hopping into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve, he stepped into some shoes and jogged downstairs and out into the brisk morning air to hop the fence like a bandit.
Apparently Zoey had sense a disturbance in the force and falling down the stairs within a whopping five minutes of Payton arriving, and pancake making had gotten a whole lot more complicated for Helga, seeing as she now how two eager helpers. "My dad's not very good at cooking," Payton remarked as she poured batter onto the flat top after Helga had pointed to where Zoey should put some butter.
"He's not?" Helga
"Well...unless he can put it on the grill. Then it taste good. But last time he tried to make pancakes he burnt them." True story, he seemed to grill almost every night, and Helga had assumed that maybe he was just an enthusiast, or perhaps had recently gotten a new grill and was excited about using it, but now it seemed that it might have been the only way he knew how cook. She got that. Her ex-husband was a grill aficionado as well.
"Yeah, my dad likes to grill stuff too," Zoey pipped up as she sloppily flipped a pancake nearly off the griddle.
And for the second time that morning, Helga heard a slightly harder, more urgent sounding tapping on her back glass, turning and looking out to see a very apologetic looking Arnold standing on her deck. Oh lovely, it was a family affair now. Setting everything down she paced to the door and slid it open for him, "Well good morning to you too." She chuckled.
Arnold bashfully smiled as he ducked in before saying, "I am so sorry. I hope she didn't ruin anything you had going on."
Helga snorted, "No, not at all. We were just making pancakes," She said, walking back to the kitchen with her new guest in tow.
"Payton, you can't just wander out of our yard and go bothering people," Arnold began scolding his daughter as soon as he saw her, hand perched on his hips like a proper dad.
"I know..." Payton reluctantly agreed before smiling toothily at him, "Hey, I made pancakes. And they aren't burnt like yours."
Arnold deadpanned her before cracking a smile, "They weren't burnt they were well done. There's a difference," He joked back, "Now tell everybody bye so they can continue their breakfast, uninterrupted."
"I mean...we have plenty for everybody," Helga said before she could even stop herself. That that she didn't want to share, or be a generous host but...what the hell was she suppose to talk to him about over a breakfast? It was hard enough to be cool with parental chatter over a freakin' fence, "We will not eat all of this so...might as well."
Arnold remained reluctant looking, still ever embarrassed of his daughter inviting herself into other peoples houses. For Helga it was kind of nice being on the other side of the coin and not the one having to explain away something weird. His hand went up and rubbed the back of his neck, him and Payton eyeing each other before he glanced back at his parental counter-part, "You sure?"
And, playing ever cool, Helga deadpanned him, "Really?" She rhetorically asked before shaking her head, "Plates are in that cabinet," She instructed, pointing above where Zoey stood.
"Thanks," Arnold cast her a small, lopsided smile, walking up behind Zoey and grabbing a plate for him, Payton, and Helga after she had. As he was reaching in, he glanced down to a stack of mail sitting on the edge of the counter and caught the name Helga Brazel one piece. He momentarily frowned, thinking that that last name sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall from where he might have heard it.
They all filled their plates with pancakes, grabbed milks and coffees and quietly seated themselves at the dinning room table and began munching away. "Ever had a microwave pancake?" Arnold asked Helga after a couple of bites while wearing a smirk.
"Not since college, no," Helga chuckled.
"They're horrible!" Payton exclaimed dramatically.
"Oh they aren't that bad," Arnold rolled his eyes, chuckling at his daughters theatrics, "But not good either like these."
Helga chuckled, "I heard you're more of a grill guy."
"Did you?" He grinned, a light blush forming on the tops of his cheeks as he looked at his plate, stabbing a triple layer bite of pancakes onto his fork.
"Uh huh."
"I can't imagine what horror stories you've been so fortunate to hear this morning."
Both Zoey and Payton giggled as did Helga, "Well that and I see you out there every night, so...you know. Anyway, I'm just happy you're alive and well."
"Oh yeah?" Arnold looked back at her with a chewing grin, "Why is that?" He said after swallowing, "'Cause my rug-rat showed up at your back door unexpectedly this morning?" He chucked while glancing at Payton.
"Well you know...I thought you might have fallen down a well," Helga explained, continuing the dry little charade they had going, "Or perhaps fallen in the bath. Usual suburban accidents."
"Oh no, I have my life alert button," Arnold teased in return.
A/N: Well, there you go. Chapter two. Again, I'm being purposefully vague about who she was married to, however, I dropped some decent clues (maybe?) in this chapter. also, if you've noticed this story has deviated (for the first time ever) from my others in two ways: Arnolds parents are alive and well, and Phoebe and Gerald (my fav character to write) don't play a huge role. Anyway, everything is moving along nicely. Until next time!