Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.
ICYMI: Phoebe makes a life-altering disclosure to Arnold as soon as he regains consciousness before they embark on one last task for ultimate closure which yields a most shocking outcome to at least one of them.
And so the white flag is out, Ladies and Gentlemen! The white flag is out, signaling the beginning of the final lap!
26. Ndibiz' Igama Lakho
His friends.
Arnold was back to his eleven-year-old form, standing in a dark and narrow passage, with the only way being forward. So forward he went until the passage opened up into a lit alcove to reveal…Curly, who after a rather subdued greeting and icebreaker had a wild story to tell.
"Well you see, they originally sent me to Hell. Since then, it's just been appeal after appeal. Hell says I belong in Heaven; Heaven says no fucking way, quote-unquote."
"Sounds…interesting," was all that Arnold could say to Thaddeus Gammelthorpe to placate the gleefully maniacal little sociopath.
"Tell me about it," concurred Curly. "I mean, you know you've made an impact when God Himself gets held in contempt for shouting under oath that you're an irredeemable douchebag, while Satan says on the stand that there might still be hope for you at redemption! And that's not even the fucked up part! The trial appears to have caused some kind of constitutional crisis between Heaven and Hell that'll take forever to fix. Until then, I'm free to travel between the two places as I wish."
Curious as Arnold may have been to hear out the full story, he wanted to leave the bespectacled one alone, the chief reason being the unfriendly looking, rhino-sized, three-headed dog lying beside Curly.
Curly caught on to Arnold's interest and explained: "Oh, don't worry about Serby here. He follows me around every time I leave Hell. He's super chill; you just need to scratch him and rub his belly every now and again."
"Er, I'll take your word for it," Arnold said cautiously, noting how the fangs of the beast were at least the size of an adult human's fist. "Look, Curly, I really have to get going to say hi to the rest."
"Before you go," Curly said as he removed his reflective glasses to reveal true melancholy in his eyes. "You didn't have to do what you did, least of all for me. Look, we were never really friends…but thanks for everything, I guess…"
"Arnold simply smiled at him and said: "Take care, Curly."
Arnold continued forward, watching Curly disappear into the blackness. A short while later, some more of his colleagues came into view: Harold, Sid, and Stinky.
Stinky was the first to notice him, announcing in his usual slow drawl: "Boy Howdy! If it isn't our not so departed friend, Arnold."
"Arnold!" shouted Harold in a weeping voice as he ran in for a tearful embrace. "I missed you!"
Harold was joined in short order by Stinky and Sid as the trio threatened to suffocate Arnold with their joy. "Guys! Guys!" shouted Arnold as he struggled to free himself.
"Arnold, Old Buddy Old Pal!" called out an emotional Sid. "We're just so relieved you're still alive on earth!"
"Yes indeed," drawled Stinky. "But was it really necessary to put yore life at risk just for the sake of obtaining retribution on our behalf?"
"Yeah, Arnold!" reflected Sid, almost in tears. "Look, we weren't always on our best behavior towards you. And…well we didn't always stick up for you, especially in San Lorenzo…and even afterward…"
"Yeah," Harold added in his normal whiney voice. "Were we really so important for you to go after that furshlugginner gonif and almost get yourself killed?"
Confused looks from Arnold and Sid.
Slow-spoken clarification from Stinky. "Ah do reckon that Harold is dee-scribin' that rapscallion, Alphonse Scheck, who put us in our current state."
"Harold, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Sid scolded, having finally caught on. "Anyway, don't listen to Harold. I'm glad you snuffed that bastard! He did you wrong Arnold. He did all of us wrong! And all you ever did was stand up for us all, even when we didn't deserve it!" Sid was still on the verge of crying as he spoke.
"Not that it changed anything," Arnold reflected sadly. "You guys were still robbed of your lives."
"That may be so, Arnold," Stinky spoke once more. "but Ah reckon yore quest for closure and justice to be no less dee-zerved."
"Yeah," added Harold. "And if anyone up here says you're not a good person, me and the boys will let them have it!"
"Yeah, Arnold," confirmed Sid. "You always did right by us in the end, we'll do right by you."
"Most certainly! Naysayers bee-ware! " A final drawling affirmation from Stinky before the trio converged for a final, tearful group hug and sent him on his way. Soon, they too were lost in the black mist.
Onward Arnold trudged until the next lot appeared: Rhonda, Nadine, and Eugene. His reception there was no less enthusiastic, with hugs and squeals of delight all around. The dominant topic of discussion was, again, how glad the apparitions were about his continued survival. Rhonda seemed especially pleased as she proclaimed in true Rhonda-style: "Oh, it's not as if I was expecting anything less from you, Arnold. I just knew you'd step up for someone as sensational as me. Oh…and Nadine and the rest of the gang too."
"I'm just glad it worked out that way…" Arnold had to concede.
"Yes, whatever," said Rhonda as she waved off his attempt to downplay his achievement. "Now let us give you your reward." With that, she and Nadine approached him to plant simultaneous kisses on opposite cheeks. "We always wanted to do that," they said together, desperately trying to stifle their shy giggles.
Eugene was bolder. While Arnold was focussed on what the girls had done, he felt a tug on his arm and was spun around into a protracted, full-on kiss from Eugene on the lips. The girls shrieked at the sight, though their combined tone hinted more towards surprise at Eugene having finally gathered the nerve to do what he was doing.
Once the walking jinx parted lips with Arnold, he proudly proclaimed to a wide-eyed and floored footballhead: "And I've always wanted to do that! Thank you, Arnold, for always having our backs, no matter what!"
Arnold was still too disorientated to process what had just happened, which was just as well as the darkness engulfed Rhonda, Nadine and Eugene and the path re-emerged. He followed it until…
Gerald.
"Arnold my man!" exclaimed Number 33 as he moved in for their signature handshake, followed by a brotherly hug. "It's so good to see you! So good to know you're still alive and you're only visiting!"
They launched into a conversation that covered, amongst other topics, Gerald's earthly condition ("Yeah, instead of being worm food, I can now fit in an ashtray!"), his siblings ("I'm glad Jamie-O's not such a dickhead anymore and that Timberly's applying herself so hard for a change.") and his parents ("I don't think they're happy in Florida. I give 'em another two years to move back to Hillwood. Tops!").
Then Arnold became the topic and the mood suddenly became solemnly uncertain.
"Gerald," Arnold tentatively began, "I...want to talk about Phoebe…"
Back on earth, Gerald had not been a factor in any decisions Arnold had made regarding Phoebe. But here, on a different plane of existence, coming face-to-face with his best friend suddenly made the footballhead feel guilty about even broaching this topic. Gerald cut him off instantly by raising a hand. "Arnold, I've been dead for a long time now. It's clear to me that you love Phoebe and truth be told, there's no-one better for her…at least now that I'm out of the picture, anyway. Look, you want my blessings? You got it! Now stop worrying and move along!"
They shared one last secret handshake before Arnold voiced one more regret. "Gerald, I'm only saddened that my actions couldn't bring you and everyone else back…"
"Nah, Arnold," Gerald consoled his best friend, "you did what you had to. And you did good, my nigga. You did real good!"
And before Arnold could do a double-take on what had just been said, Gerald was also lost to the murk, with the passage emerging once more and leading him to…
His family.
"MOM! DAD! GRANDMA! GRANDPA!" His eyes welled with joy at the sight of his long-lost family. He ran to them at a record pace, where he was greeted with the most profound, most loving group hug he had ever experienced. This was a dream and he knew it, but he didn't care: the love he was experiencing was all too real.
"Hey, Short Man!" Phil hollered.
"Kimba, my boy!" Gertie's love was flowing freely from her eyes. As were Miles's and Stella's from theirs. "It's you! It really is our son!" they spoke as they joined their elders in regaling the young boy with hugs, kisses, and affection.
Then the questions, which encompassed a wide gamut of pronouns, adverbs, and other phrases.
"How?"
"Who?"
"Who?"
"That bastard!"
"Really?"
"How?"
"Good for her!"
"Oh, good for you, Short Man!"
"When?"
"How was it?" (Asked by Phil, and resulting in Gertie slapping him…)
"Why?"
"When?"
Really?
And so on and so forth until…
"Oh my god!"
"So you're saying you became a hardened killer for Uncle Sam, as a consequence of you seeing everyone and everything you've ever loved and cared about getting blown to smithereens," Phil summarised with his usual tactlessness. The crass statement earned him the ire of Arnold's parents, as well as a dislocated hip from one of Gertie's kicks.
"Yeah, that's the gist of it," admitted Arnold. "Not what any of you might have predicted for me, right? Even I saw myself as an academic or a humanitarian, or—"
"STAND AT ATTENTION, SOLDIER!" Gertie's Drill Sergeant holler cut through his confession and caused all present to stand bolt upright. Arnold turned to see her suddenly garbed in a Three-Star General's uniform as she began blaring at him.
"I WON'T STAND BY AND HEAR SOME ARMY RANGER WHO'S GIVEN HIS ALL FOR HIS COUNTRY TELL ME HE REGRETS HIS DECISION! LOOK AT YOU, SON! LIFE DUMPED THE BIGGEST LOAD OF CRAP ON YOU, AND YOU DIDN'T LET IT GET YOU DOWN! YOU ROSE, SON! YOU CHALLENGED LIFE BACK, AND YOU WON! YOU HEAR THAT, SON? YOU WON! YOU KICKED LIFE BACK IN THE BALLS! YOU MADE A SUCCESS OF IT! AND ON YOUR OWN TERMS!"
Stella's reassurance was significantly more subdued. "Arnold, Honey, we all realize you think you've disappointed us by having a career that may have involved killing people. But think of the good you've done with your skills. People you've rescued, loved ones you've reunited."
Miles joined in: "Son, there are people out there who are alive today only because you intervened. People out there now have justice because of your efforts. It wasn't always pretty what you did, but it was necessary. And I…we…" he motioned to the group as he corrected himself, "…all understand, and we don't hold anything against you. We love you and always will. Always and without fail."
"Yeah, and you bagged yourself a fine filly in the process!" Phil cut in with another inappropriate comment, which earned him a swift kick in the crotch from Gertie that raised his pitch by at least three octaves.
One final group hug with nary a dry eye later, and the group sent Arnold on his way.
To his final destination: The airport terminal.
Where she stood…
Helga.
Once again they had the entire building to themselves. Her back was facing him as he approached her. "Hi Helga," he greeted, more subduedly than the occasion may have warranted.
Helga was still looking away as she replied: "I guess this is it, heh? Mission accomplished, loved ones avenged, wrongs righted." Her voice conveyed plaintiveness and knowledge of impending, irrevocable loss.
Arnold had no immediate answer, so Helga continued. "You do realize that this is the end of us, right? I was sent to motivate you in life. Actually, I demanded that the big guy send me to help snap you out of your doldrums. Of course, he said no, but since when have you ever known 'no' to stop me? So there I was, to help you move along, however you would interpret 'moving on'. Didn't know it would involve you becoming a stone-cold killer, but there you go." She tried smiling at the last part, but the melancholy in her was too much for the smile to overcome.
Her melancholy was edging towards sadness. "Which means that my work is done, and I must now let you go." With that said, she turned to reveal her face to Arnold, who saw that even angels were capable of shedding tears.
"Helga, are you crying?" he asked.
"No, Footballhead!" she replied in a jumble of emotions held together by her caustic nature. "It's just so hot even my eyes are sweating! Of course I'm crying. I mean, now that you've found your closure – violent, gruesome closure, granted…but closure nonetheless! – you don't need me in your dreams anymore. You don't need me to haunt you at random moments anymore. You're free now to live your life without being held back by your past! And I'm happy for you, my love, have no doubt. Really, truly, one-hundred-and-one percent happy!" Her tears were not abating in the slightest. "It's just… that I'm now entitled to an eternity of angelic bliss…but the cost is I'm not supposed to harbor any feelings for you!"
But…
"And I know you've found Phoebe back on earth and I acknowledge and wholeheartedly support the two of you together."
...here came the complication…
"BUT I'M NOT READY TO GIVE UP THE MEMORIES OF MY PRECIOUS, TREASURED FOOTBALLHEAD! EVEN IN THE NAME OF SOME ARBITRARY 'MASTER PLAN' BY SOMEONE WHO CAN'T EVEN GET HIS OWN HOUSE IN ORDER!"
Her outburst was the most tearfully impassioned he'd ever heard from any person, living or dead. Arnold responded first by placing his hands gently on her shoulders, after which he softly said: "Helga, I love you too, and until three months ago you were the single biggest motivator for me to get on with my life. And I recall the advice I received from someone wise and wonderful, reminding me that my happiness was now back on earth with someone else."
He then pulled her in for one final embrace, once more astounded by how real the sensation of having her close to him felt, how delicate her sylph-like body felt in his arms and pressed against his chest. Suddenly, he was saddened by what he was about to say, by what he had to say: "Helga, it's time for both of us to let go."
And an angel would weep once more, knowing that she had heard the truth of the matter.
"Arnold," Helga spoke, "you're a footballhead. You were born a footballhead. And you always will be a footballhead! And I am so, so glad that from a few precious weeks, you were my footballhead." Helga then pulled her head away from Arnold's chest to soothe her emotions and to stare one last time into his limpid, emerald gaze. "Now go down there and be Phoebe's footballhead!"
There was one last, unspoken wish expressed by her gaze, which Arnold happily obliged as his lips closed in on hers for one last celestial kiss.
And so it ended where it began. Two adolescents, sharing a heartfelt kiss at a Central American airport.
Their lips touched and caressed, their breathing became heavier, their grips on each other tightened. That one kiss evoked two lifetimes' worth of memories and emotions: hatred; indifference; acceptance…love.
And then…a refulgent flash of brilliant white light enveloped the couple and their surroundings and Arnold was carried instantly back to consciousness, but not before hearing Helga's final bit of advice:
"Love her fully…"
Little did Arnold know that this was to be his final dream with Helga in it.
Arnold awoke in the darkness of his room. Beside him slept Phoebe, her breathing slow, steady and oh so soothing on the ear. The morning had not yet broken, so he reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time. Three o'clock, damn! Oh well, he'd just have to try going back to sleep.
"Something the matter?" he heard Phoebe ask from her side.
"It's nothing much," he replied. "Just a dream and then some thought."
"Mm," yawned Phoebe as she seated herself to stretch the sleep out of her system, "must have been quite a vivid one to have woken you at…what time is it anyway?"
"Three o'clock."
"So what was it, a nightmare?" Phoebe continued.
"Nah, more of an epiphany if I'm being honest," he answered.
"Ah, hence the thought," she declared as she seated herself more comfortably. In doing so, she let the bedsheet slip off her which revealed her twelve-week baby bump. "So, what were you thinking about?" she continued with her questioning.
Arnold didn't answer immediately; he had turned to face Phoebe and caught sight of her beautiful bump beneath her ever-tightening sleepshirt. And suddenly he was reminded of the past three months' events.
Them leaving Hillwood for Arnold's home to meet Phoebe's parents. Kyo and Reba acting exactly how Phoebe predicted when she first met Arnold all those months back: showering him with hugs and gratitude and kisses from Reba for saving and protecting their daughter. Even more thanks for his role in saving their lives without them realizing it.
Kyo and Reba asking several stern, solemn questions about their plans for the unborn child. Reba and Kyo expressing elation at the prospect of becoming grandparents. Kyo and Reba declaring there and then that they'd be moving to the county to be closer to their upcoming grandchild whom they were already planning on spoiling rotten.
Arnold's and Phoebe's next course of action was to visit Arnie, firstly to show the sheriff that his favorite cousin was still alive, and secondly to visit Hilda and little Helle. The sight of Helle, with her mother's facial features and her father's dull blonde hair, was cause for much cooing and fawning from Arnold and Phoebe, who fought each other for chances to hold the infant. And when Phoebe announced her pregnancy, Hilda was positively over the moon as she forewent all professional decorum to offer hugs and congratulations to the Asian woman while promising whatever help and support she could. A lifelong friendship began that very moment, to last well beyond the birth of Phoebe's child.
As for Arnold and Phoebe, they'd have their own series of long and complex discussions regarding the way forward for them and the little one.
Where would they live? (At Arnold's place.)
How would they split the utilities and bills? (Phoebe, being as pragmatic as always…)
Would Phoebe be able to work remotely from this town? (Absolutely!)
How were the health facilities? Educational institutions? ("Whoa, Phoebe! Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you?")
Anyhow…six weeks comprising several calls, several more emails, logistical and other disagreements (some heated, some punctuated by unpredictable mood swings), regular check-ups for Phoebe, and a steady recovery for Arnold. Not to mention some grief with the movers from Seattle and Honolulu…and finally! Kyo and Reba were settled in a little picket-fenced home of their own, while Arnold's and Phoebe's relationship had – properly! – advanced to the cohabiting phase.
He considered all those events. He considered the here and now.
"Arnold!" Phoebe snapped him out of his thoughts. "Your mind's wandering off again! Anyway, what was on your mind just now?" she repeated in a gentler tone.
Arnold smiled another of his infectious smiles her way and said: "I was thinking about how happy I am right this moment."
"Again? Arnold, this is becoming monotonous!" Phoebe pretended to treat his proclamation as an inconvenience, though he knew her well enough by now to know that inside she was lapping it up every time he told her how much she meant to him.
Still…
"OK, if you're bored of hearing me say how much I love you...if you want some new material, wait just a moment…" He was smiling mischievously as he got out of the bed and left the room and a bewildered Phoebe. Phoebe heard him heading to the study – their study now – followed by some heavy shifting. Clearly, he had something to show her, so she took the time to retrieve her glasses from her nightstand and switch on her bedside light. Eventually, he returned, though he remained at the doorway.
"You know, Phoebe," he began, with his initial mischievous look gone and in its place a profound uncertainty plus one tightly clenched fist, "sometime after I moved to San Lorenzo, I got a package in the mail…sender unknown. It was some of the personal effects belonging to my grandparents and my parents. Mister Smith…well, he pulled some strings after the initial investigation to claim the items and ship them to me. I heard all of this from Brainy. He also told me it was Mister Smith who fast-tracked my move to San Lorenzo, and now that I think about it, it kinda makes sense why Eduardo didn't take long to finalize the move."
He paused, not from emotion but from uncertainty, but eventually he powered on. "Anyway, one of the items he sent over…was this," he said as he made his way from the doorway to her side of the bed to kneel by her side while unclenching his fist to reveal…a simple gold band. The revelation almost caused cardiac arrhythmia in Phoebe as she sat up in ramrod straight attention.
Could he be..? Or am I misreading his intentions..?
Phoebe opted to downplay her expectations. "Arnold, it's three in the morning and my sleep has been disturbed by your restlessness. I've bed hair and morning breath. Not to mention, I'm twelve weeks into carrying our child. And here you are, showing me a seemingly random item of jewelry. How am I supposed to interpret your action?" She was trying her best to sound as academic and as expressionless as possible.
Arnold, however, took her words at face value as he continued his explanation: "Well, you see…this is...was…my grandmother's wedding band. Grandpa placed it on her finger when they were married. It's not much, as you can see, but it carries decades' worth of love and devotion shared by two people." Phoebe felt her breathing becoming shallower and faster, though she remained steadfast in her calm charade.
Arnold persisted. "Phoebe, I'd very much love for you to have this," he said simply. "I'd like for us to continue in their footsteps."
And Phoebe, moments from hyperventilating, insisted on taking her game even further. "Oh, and how long would you have me hold on to it? How long are we to continue this legacy?" she asked in a professional tone which became more strained by the second. "Any specific timeframe?"
"Nothing definite," replied Arnold, his tone and expression hinting that he was now on to Phoebe's game. "There are a few benchmarks. Like…'sickness and health'? 'Richer…and poorer'? 'Till death do us part'?" He reached out to present the ring to Phoebe as he spoke those words. Phoebe snatched it from his hand, her face now a reflection of welling love and eagerness about to overflow.
"So that's my story, Phoebe," Arnold continued. "Will you…aah…what I mean is…do you see yourself sharing the rest of your life with me?"
Phoebe didn't answer immediately. Arnold watched as she placed the ring on the appropriate finger, then stared awestruck at it, her playful, pretend indifference all vanished and forgotten. She then turned to Arnold and proudly displayed the band now nestled on her ring finger.
And answered, smilingly and tearfully: "I do!"
And so the ballad of Arnold Shortman comes full circle. "But what about the supporting cast?" I hear you ask. "What happens to them?" Actually, that's why epilogues exist. And that will be the topic of the final chapter of In Her Honor. As ever thank you so much for your interest and support over almost a year now! An almost entire calendar year! A near-complete journey around the sun!
And especially for Deepvoice'06: Thanks for the review. I'm heartened that I still have the power to surprise. And don't feel too bad about Arnold's injuries. After all, you've just witnessed the recovery he's made.
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Author's Note: By now you've run the chapter title through Google Translate to find out that it's Xhosa for 'I Call Your Name'. Why use a Xhosa title? Why not? If nothing else, I enjoyed hearing how it flummoxed MS Word's text-to-voice facility. And unlike Trevor Noah, I can be trusted with my Xhosa translations.
Author's Note #2: The two characters with whom I had the most fun this chapter were Curly and Stinky. I took the chance to explore briefly the implications of the former's worldly amorality in the afterlife, while for the latter I wanted to be as phonetically accurate as possible with his drawling speech, even if Grammarly kept asking what the hell I was presenting it.
Author's Note #3: I'll admit to a small amount of self-indulgence that went into the Arnold/Helga scene. What can I say other than this: When you're Shortaki, you're Shortaki...for life!
Author's Note #4: Even before I started writing this story, I had several setpieces playing in my mind. The action scenes, of course, but also specific dialogues and scenes such as the proposal. For the proposal, I wanted Phoebe to give off her usual vibe as someone who is easily capable of an emotional response but would rather temper it with facts and logic. Hopefully, that's exactly how it came across.
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And here's this chapter's Spotify List:
Dream Baby Dream - Bruce Springsteen
Blue Eyes Blue - Eric Clapton
Let It Take You - Goldfrapp
These Dreams - Heart
I Call Your Name - Johnny Clegg and Savuka
A Time And Place - Mike and The Mechanics
Luv (sic), Part 5 - Nujabes (feat. Shing02)
He Got Game - Public Enemy
Linger - The Cranberries
Edinburgh - The Lake Poets
Hymn To Her - The Pretenders
Hold Me Now - Thompson Twins
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And that's it for this chapter! Meet me soon for the final chapter!