Hi everybody, as I promised is July and I am back. I hope to keep updating two or three chapters per month, but this doesn't mean necessarily I'll post every ten, fifteen days. If I delay I want all you know it's not because I forgot, but because some chapters won't be easy and will need more time.

Now, a little background since is not place to clear it up in the chapter. As most of you already realized, Arnold is a commercial/corporate lawyer in here. The gang won't be seen around and this story will have a bunch of OC, to whom I hope you get to know before the real action starts.

Now on with the reading

Rocket to the Moon

Chapter Two

I Need to Lie Down

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Arnold hurried his steps to reach the opposite sidewalk when the green light started to blink. On a rainy, snowy day he'd take the bus to reach his apartment, but the rest of the times he used to walk. It was only a 20 minutes' walk after all, and besides, tonight he wanted to buy a cable to have his home theater system finally mounted. There were several electronics stores on 116th street. He adjusted the lapels of his coat to keep the cold outside as he went on.

The uncomfortable feeling that the encounter with his friends left in him hadn't totally washed away. To see how eager they seemed to know everything about him and his new job, to confirm the suppositions they have still itched him. Suppositions that a well bunch of people at AJB & P were having, he knew it; he still had some real friends in there. Why people cared about this so much he'd never know. Maybe it was just the way people were. What he disliked was being object of examination only because he got tired of working for a firm that extolled mercantilism far over all the other 'Values' that were carved at the entrance of their offices, along its Mission and Vision, and he'd said it aloud. Now he was the 'idealist young lawyer', the 'unconventional', the 'strange', 'the outcast'. Arnold puffed as he pushed open the door of the first electronic store in the street.

. .

Minutes later the blond young man grunted after leaving the third store. What was it? No one has a simple 18 ft. long speaker cable? Maybe he needed to go to a supermarket. It was probably easier to find what he wanted in there. He held his breathe as he entered into the fourth shop in a row. Without answering the conventional greeting of the clerk, he spat to him what he was looking for. The kid asked for a minute as he walked up to farthest corner of the store and got lost in there.

Arnold turned around looking without seeing the glass counters and walls filled with merchandise as he let out some steam. After a while, he blinked; seemed that this store was well supplied. With his luck surely they have anything but the cable he was looking for, he thought with sullenness. He extended his hand to take a No More Nails tube, and then a plastic staples small pack. If it was the case … which one would do better?

"Here, sir" the boy reached his side and showed him several products, thin cables, for real; one of them was even longer than what he needed. Arnold raised his brow and smirked to himself, choosing the cream colored cable that matched his bedroom walls; then asked for two; they were two speakers after all. Deciding he didn't want to wait for the adhesive to dry, he took the staples package and reached the kid by the cash register reaching for his wallet in the back pocket.

After extending a twenty dollars note he waited for the change; they weren't even expensive; that what upset him the most; if they were he'd understand to some extent the deficient stocking of the former stores. While waiting for the receipt to be print, he raised the sight to the strangely stock-free wall behind the counter and blinked twice. Who would have thought? He knew very well the logo imprinted in that wall. Not only because he had seen it in a daily basis back in Hillwood when he was a kid, but because he knew the brand had reached nationwide expansion nowadays. The emblem had changed through the years. It was still a brown and green circle that read 'Big Bob Stores' but now had a stylized imperial crown in the center and a single bold, red, capital 'M' letter in the back.

. . .

Arnold left the store and walked further north. Two blocks north and two more to the left. For a while his mind went blank, the prior awkward mood abandoned him. A strange peace lingered over him instead, something like nostalgia, for times long gone. For the old neighborhood, for his old friends and his clique; for a simpler and easier life….

His feet carried him to his street in automatic while his mind was still void of thoughts. He stopped at the corner to order a pizza, asking them to send it up when it were ready, all the while moving like an automat again. Then reached home and climbed up the few steps to his entrance, took off his coat, turned on the lights. The odd numbness still filled him as he went right to the bedroom he shared with Claire. It was really a strange feeling, he could almost smell it…

The smell of the boarding house; smell of old, worn wood; of the times when his grandparents were still around; the smell of the basement. It brought a lot of memories to his mind. He remembered his soft bed and the red couch when his best friend spent the night in there. He reminisced the hallways of PS 118, its playground; the courts where they used to play football in high school. Remembered when all what love meant was to get a date for the upcoming dance; then to get lucky. When he still could let himself to be idealistic. 'Idealistic', he scoffed to himself. 'Idealism'. The word collided against him, bringing him back to the uncomfortable mood. He used to hold the word like a banner. It was pathetic. The word itself had an awful definition to him now. It's was the philosophy of the 'pretty ideas', of the 'great ideals'… of the 'good intentions' that are never carried out.

. . . .

Reminders of his previous concept of idealism followed him as he plugged in the cable and threw it up to the corner of the wall and then along the line of the ceiling. He nailed a staple every few inches. The nostalgia for the past had also left him without full awareness. The awkwardness settled again. A quick view of his life and of the decisions he took and got him right here this moment clouded his mind. The realization of his own mistakes. He raised his sight to look at his work. Yes, eighteen feet were perfect. He plugged the adaptor of the other end of the cable into the speaker that was already hanging from the rear wall and hide the reminder inches of cable behind it. Quickly he took the three steps pink ladder and placed it by the opposite wall. It was easy, but he wanted to get the job done before the pizza arrived.

Fifteen minutes later he was taking the ladder back to the corner where it belonged, the kitchen corner, right behind the door; when there was a knock in the door. His mind had uneasily traveled through the last years of his life. After graduating he left the US to go backpacking and know the world. He made some voluntary work at the same time. There were always places where a pair of hands was required, to build houses, to help towns raise again after suffering natural disasters, trying to help people to go through their bad time. It'd been pleasant despite its sordidness somewhat. It had been satisfying. Then he had to come back to America because he needed to get a real job. His savings weren't everlasting. The income coming up from the boarding house couldn't afford the lifestyle he dreamed to himself, to the rest of his life. It has to start sometime, and his twenty-four almost twenty-five it seemed the right time.

. . . . .

He got hired immediately by a firm specialized in Patrimonial Planning, not his favorite field but it was a good start. Then Anderson Johnson Bailey & Partners came in with his canny approach and impeccable offices in the elegant Financial District. Almost immediately he fell into the good graces of one of the associates and his career winded up, everyone said it. For three years he was the biggest promise of the firm until they sent him to Bankruptcies and Contests. Bankruptcies and Contests wasn't his field, not at all. Dealing with people who was 'losing' everything wasn't his thing. It was hard to be not only a witness of all the things that happened there, but to play a part, the devil's part. The promising career that had been labeled as to be in a rocket to the moon went quickly downward. He decided to renounce before it all crashed miserably.

It was all. He said he had had enough and refused to take back his previous post. He said there had to be a place where his idealism was appreciated. Claire gave him all her support. Then he went right to look for a place where 'to help people' were acceptable, and he found it almost without effort. And he started to help people as it was his wish. But then he learned that helping people wasn't exactly what he thought. It wasn't the same thing to help people who had nothing, who had lost everything, than to help people whose circumstances and decisions have gotten there in first place. Okay, he helped people to legalize their properties. He also counseled people to get their business in form; helped them to understand their rights as American citizens and their obligations. But also realized that most of people who went looking for advice never followed the counsels and left everything right the way they were; their situation didn't change at all. And he realized that -as much he wanted to be blind to that,- laziness and resistance to change were the more frequent causes of their situation. He simply couldn't understand it. When he first accepted this job he thought helping people would be more satisfactory...

Well, it wasn't.

Then, after seeing this situation repeated itself he grew more and more disappointed with his job. And that without taking in consideration that along with his disappointment, his own finances were experiencing problems. His actual incomes didn't match his expenses. Not that he was a big spender. He had savings that'd keep him going still for months, Anderson's paid was good, but it wasn't the same thing. This situation shouldn't be kept any longer. He needed to find a new, real job. The thought had been in his head for the last couple of weeks but hadn't set down yet. But now he was here. Finally getting some time to himself, to think about future, to make plans. Time to meditate. He was lying on his bed, after having dinner, listening to soft music, jazz, had been long time without listening it. With no interruption due to Claire chat, to be watching TV, or because they were receiving late visits.

. . . . . .

He welcomed this time, he really did. He finally got to think deeply; get to resolutions. Maybe this was not what he wanted anymore. Maybe he wouldn't find the ideal job ever. Maybe the ideal job didn't exist and that had to be accepted, but he needed to start again; to find a new job, to make savings again, to build some wealth; to start living his future, the rest of his life.

And this was the other thing that have been hovering over his head; this one even longer than an unsatisfactory job.

His future; his life; to start a family…

Thinking on that he couldn't help but feel the sting of jealousy. Something that pinched his insides and made him feel bad. And he felt worse because he was actually happy for his friend. Gerald has a six months old baby girl and he was ecstatic. Every single day he posted a new photo of the little cherub; from her neat pink room to her flamboyant stroller; from her dark curly hair to her little perfect toenails. The baby was an angel, and Phoebe was for sure an excellent mother

That was what had him uncomfortable. Gerald had a perfect family. He had been married for almost four years and he had nothing. Not that he complained, it was his decision after all to be single. He had been engaged once to his college sweetheart but things didn't work and they broke it up. That was the closest he had been to marriage, but their relation didn't survived his traveling. It had been the only time he felt the need to formalize, but now that he thought about that maybe it was because he was too young and his feelings for the sweet girl were the purest he ever felt. Now he knew it wasn't real love; it was just that he wanted to feel tied to someone. The loss of his grandparents, his only real family, was still recent.

After Amy left he had gone through a bunch of dates that led him to nothing, until he met Victoria. Victoria was the girl that accompanied him to Gerald's wedding; they had been dating for about a year. Everybody pointed back then that she was his perfect match; that he was next in the line to walk down the aisle to the altar and he almost believe it for a while, until things with her also led to nowhere and they broke up before their second anniversary. Then Claire came up.

The thing was that even when Claire had been his girlfriend for almost three years, he hadn't proposed yet. Not that he had complaints about her. Claire was perfect almost in every sense. Sex was good. They had fun together. She was kind and compassionate about the same things he was; she was beautiful and she was a good girl. She'd made a terrific mother one day.

But he always thought that the decision to belong to somebody came with a necessity, with a passion, and he hadn't felt that passion yet. Was he selfish? Was he unfair? Was he being too idealist? Too naïve?

. . . . . . .

He didn't have anything to compare. Before he asked Gerald he already knew it wouldn't be fair. Gerald and Phoebe knew each other when they were kids, but became a couple until they ended up in the same town for college. She went to Premed at Brown, he was making Communication at Rhode Island State. Then they broke up three years later when Phoebe's medical school required all of her attention. But once she got back to Seattle to become a specialist in radiology they fell into each other arms like the most natural thing in the world; almost as if the years separated hadn't existed. So Gerald's case wasn't the appropriate to make a comparison. When he asked him how he decided to propose he simply answered he always knew he'd end up with her.

Arnold never felt that. Well, maybe only when he was in sixth grade and Lila finally accepted to go out with him. Maybe those two weeks they shared together he dreamed that she was the girl of his life. But Lila thought otherwise and dumped him. She was twelve and she already knew what she wanted, and it was not him.

But coming back to him again, was it real that he never felt that need? Was it only a dream that'd never become true? To feel like you're swept off your feet? To become obsessed about someone? To think about her all day long? He felt that way about Claire… long ago, when he met her, when he first started to date her. He felt that way even when he asked her to move in with him, after her roommate was relocated. It was the most natural thing to do after all. With Claire everything was always calm, natural. Maybe it was the pass of the time what made things look grey.

Thinking and thinking got him to realize he needed to make changes. Some people used to say that you yourself are who put things in motion. Maybe if he proposed it'd stir their relation and they reach that point; to get their world in movement. Thirty years was a good age to get married, to start a family after all. Gerald's girl would be twenty when he'd be fifty. And him?

Unconsciously he knew he needed some time alone to reach this point. To have an inside view of himself, to have this heart to heart with the other Arnold Shortman, the one who still have some optimism inside him. And finally to get to conclusions and to make plans. Tonight was a perfect night. Outside it was cold and frantic. It was getting late and Claire would be here any minute now.

Alright, conclusions: He breathed deeply. He needed to make changes. Maybe it was time to formalize his relation with Claire; to start to think about the future, a family, kids, a home. Of course it wouldn't happen right now; but it had to be a term, a time limit. Two months… three? Coming June he should to make a decision. He had three months to think pros and cons and not more vacillations. If nothing major comes, next June he'd be proposing.

And secondly, he needed to get a job, a satisfactory job if not the perfect job. He breathed again. What would make the perfect job? Cunning Arnold inside his skull asked as he left the bed and walked to the main room to be sure if he hadn't left any mess; picked up the trash and closed the window. He replied to himself that it had to be a job where he'd help people in need, people who wanted to change, people who were convinced already. A job where he had the power to help them to make that difference, because he still didn't feel as if he had made a difference yet; of course it had to be a job where he could get well paid for doing that. That'd make his perfect job. He sneered. Cunning Arnold asked again that if it were all about dreams and fantasies, what else he'd ask for to his perfect job, huh? What would be the cherry on the cake?

Well, he snorted again but indulged nevertheless. It should be located in that high, smart looking building than was located in front of Anderson's; his office would be located in a higher level and… he hummed… and it had to be no boss around. That was it.

. . . . . . . .

I don't own Hey Arnold! I don't own No More Nails.

Thanks for reading and special thanks to PresleyRox, MorTay3, Nep2uune and a Guest - who I suppose is C - for their reviews. I really appeciate them; as usual I'll answer them through PM. I hope you also like this second installment.

Reviews are welcome :D

July 10th, 2014.