If you really insist on it, I'll tell you how I finally made peace with my parents. Helga's father, too, for that matter. It wasn't easy. No not by a long shot, but mostly because pride is hard to swallow.
I'll begin by telling you about my first few months with Helga. She really surprised me, showing up out of the blue and just walking in through my door like she belonged there. I guess she always had in a way, and we both knew it.
We didn't wait long for apologies either. Both of us are the passionate, emotional type when stoked. Especially by one other. Helga and I had waited just long enough for Alfred to get to sleep before we rolled into each other's arms and began making up for the lost years apart. Helga consumed me like fire. But it was more than that. It was love, too. The feel of my arms wrapped across Helga's back and around her thin waist was priceless. I soaked in her scent and enjoyed the warmth of her ankles pressed against mine for hours at a time as we simply basked in each other's presence. Often, I simply stared at my beauty and my new son in the slack-jawed, daydreamed state that first attracted Helga to me. I guess none of that has changed because we are still just as enamored with each other now.
We talked. A lot. We had been separated for too long and there were a lot of secrets. Even I had secrets. Like the four months I had taken up smoking just to make my parents angry. (Boy, had I been punished severely for that one.) Then, when Helga and I had quarreled with one another about how foolish each of us had been, we forgave each other and made love.
Which led us to talking about children. Alfred had been an accident of passion according to Helga. But he wasn't such an accident to me. Let's just say that sometimes people call Helga a little crazy because of the way she can fly off the handle. But before I finished growing up, I realized there was something a little off about me, too. Something about me finally realizing I was probably an orphan had done something to me. Something deep and damaging. I had always craved siblings but was frustrated there could be none. I had waited for my parents to return for years but they were missing. I had looked to my grandparents as role models only to realize that I would be lucky indeed if they lasted long enough to raise me to eighteen. If that failed and my parents never showed up, there was the threat that I'd be sent to an orphanage or even worse, be sent to live with my country cousin, Arnie.
Imagining a future without any family of my own around me had settled a deep, dark, wound in my soul. It was lifted only when I told myself that even if I could do nothing about the past, there was always the future. I could build a family of my own. I could have a dozen kids so that if I died or disappeared like my father had done to me, at least my children would have one another.
Helga had an opposite outlook. Better to wait, she said, since she had a career as a professional dancer and her work at Big Bob's Beepers. But then like a windstorm that suddenly reverses direction, Helga decided to put my needs first. Perhaps it was a peace offering. Perhaps it was love or her own joy of being a parent to Alfred. Most likely, it was because women tend to always want a cute daughter. In any case, we put a lot of effort into making sure we got our second child.
I liked to stroke Helga's belly. When the doctor's tests came in and we knew for certain that Helga would likely be a mother a second time, I became almost obsessed with rubbing her expanding tummy with my palm. I felt not just downright protective but possessive. Inwardly, I growled at my parents, almost daring them to interfere with my being here like they had done with Alfred. I also grit my teeth together at the fear that Helga's father, Big Bob Pataki, would come over as soon as he found out, to yell at Helga and to break my sorry skull. Most paranoid of all, I dreaded that Helga would have complications. Olga's baby had been born too prematurely to survive. I was terrified the same thing would happen to our baby, so I cooked only the best homemade, healthy meals for Helga. I genuinely made a nuisance of myself by holding her arm as she walked anywhere just in case she fell.
Perhaps it was the pain and guilt of missing out on Alfred's birth that made me a little crazy for a time. But when Helga checked in to the hospital to give birth to our first little girl, I knew it was time to pay the piper. I should have planned better, I told myself. I should have married Helga first. But I stood my ground as best as I could when Helga called her father on the phone to ask him to come down to Hillwood's hospital.
Our daughter wasn't born yet when Big Bob Pataki stomped into Hillwood Hospital. His eyes rounded when he saw me, then narrowed. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes that I did not like- like he was a bull planning the best way to gore me. I gulped and deliberated whether it was best to toss Alfred to Grandpa for safe-keeping and let myself be gored or to continue holding the adorable child in hopes that the kid would pacify the brute. Luckily, Big Bob Pataki got enough hold of himself to yell at me at the top of his lungs instead of crunching me into a paste on the floor.
"You!" he said among other things. "You bastard!"
Now, it was ironic that he had used that word because my parents had certainly been married. It was not so with my own children. They truly were bastards and I wasn't that bothered by it. Marriage was becoming a rare trait among city dwellers. Especially young and stubborn ones like myself. I stayed mute while Helga's father screamed at me. Fortunately the nurse intervened by coming out of the room to say, "it's time."
I froze with fear for a moment. I would be coming face to face with the consequences of my actions more than I had at any time. But it was a truth I had hoped to know. So I pushed aside the hospital room curtain to find Helga panting and grimacing with pain. I offered my hand to Helga and she nearly crushed every bone in it.
When it was all over my grin was as wide as my football face. I kissed Helga gently on the top of her head and kissed my new child as well. It was a girl as expected.
"Dad," Helga had said softly to her father. He made his peace with me then and shook my hand. Perhaps it was because he loved Helga. Maybe it was because the way Helga and I interacted had touched his heart. Most likely, it was because I had made him a grandfather. Twice.
Making up with my own parents was not so easy. Mostly because I was stubborn. I refused to call them and tell them anything. It was they who tried to call me because they knew where I lived and that Grandpa had gone to live with me. But when I had given them the silent treatment for a full year they eventually showed up at my own door.
I think my parents were more shocked than I was. Still, I felt like they had walked in to find me with my pants down. They didn't call, didn't write to say they'd be in town and then they walked right into the old boarding house to find me eating breakfast as a family of five, if Grandpa is included. I choked on my breakfast cereal and spat it out. But I didn't have anything nice to say.
"What are you doing here?" I said, my eyes narrowing. Helga jumped up onto her feet and placed a hand on my arm.
"It's okay, Arnold," she said, trying to be soothing. Which is, ordinarily, not her specialty. It's mine. But I wasn't ready to give up being a jerk yet.
"What do you want? A room to let? Oh, let me introduce you to Helga. She's the girl I was too attached to when I was twelve. I'm sure you've seen her before." Helga was beautiful about the whole thing. It is wonderful being in love with a girl who can be cruel, too. She wasn't the least bit ashamed of me. Instead, she watched me quietly as I played my emotions out. It was Grandpa who had to play the peacemaker.
"Now, now," he said. "Remember Arnold, family is family. Why don't you invite them to sit down and eat some breakfast. You can introduce them to your fine kids." But I was more interested in bottle feeding Cecil and having her spit half the milk out.
"Fine," I said pissed off enough to tangle with a porquipine. "My son Alfred. He's from that time I ran away for a week when I was fifteen. Then there's Cecil. She's four months." I felt a nudge of remorse then for how terrible I was acting, but I folded my arms across my chest just the same. It took a great deal of pride and confidence to look back into my father's eyes as I awaited his judgement.
"That's… extraordinary," he said. "Congratulations," although I was certain he was just stunned.
"Thanks," I said dryly, because I still resented the choices he had made for me. I was lucky to have this family now in spite of him.
"Um, how's your health, Father?" my Dad then asked, changing the subject. I was glad. Deep down I knew that he was right about me. I was reckless and juvenile. A real disappointment of a teenager. But I didn't want to hear it from him. Someone who had been missing from my life only to come back and try to reset me when I was already half-grown up.
"So," said Grandpa when some of the awkwardness had waved. "How long are you...ummm... visiting?"
"Oh, about a month," my mother said so quickly. From my father's reaction I guessed that the long stay was news to him. They'd work it out later out of my earshot like usual. But I wasn't interested in their problems. I was interested in mine. Like where I was going to put them.
"I have Ernie's old room," I relented at last. I sure wasn't going to give them my old penthouse room. I had converted that to my office. A private man cave if you will. Besides, Helga and I kept all our most expensive and fragile possessions up there out of Alfred's reach.
So far I had interviewed and found only two boarders. I was taking my time in filling up the spaces. A part of me hoped to get the old renters back- the ones I had grown up with.
The awkward thing had been to decide was where to put Helga and Alfred. The penthouse room I had enjoyed as a child was a little too cramped for all of us. Too far away from the kitchen and bathroom to be convenient. So I tore up the carpet in my grandparents old room. Helga insisted on a hardwood floor and she paid for it. I wallpapered everything in her favorite color, green, which flatteringly she admitted had always been her favorite because it reminded her of my eyes. Then we made the suite next door Alfred's own nursery.
Grandpa didn't mind the change. He was content to take up residence in one of the other rooms and I did the best could to make it comfortable for him. After all, he was ninety. The supposed family curse would claim him next year. Yet another reason I was in no hurry to take a job like most men.
No, the person who really shone in this family was Helga. Metaphorically, she wore the pants in the family and it was a little impossible to explain this to my parents. It was something that came about partly because she worked two jobs but also because she has such a strong personality while I, for my part, am content mostly to sit back and watch the world go by.
"Arnold," said Helga the second breakfast I had to share with my parents in what was now my house. "I'm sorry, honey, but I need to go to the office today. Don't forget to schedule Cecil's visit to her pediatrician and you need to go grocery shopping. Here," Helga said pulling out her wallet and flicking it open. She pulled several hundred dollars and flipped it out to me with a bold smile. "A little extra. You like miserable today, Arnoldo, so don't bother cooking. Order some Chinese takeout. Love you! Bye," Helga ended by giving me a firm kiss. I pocketed the money while my parents stared. I was still wearing an apron from cooking pancakes while Helga was dressed up in a red, two-piece business suit and matching high-heeled shoes. I knew she'd be trotting out to her brand-new, candy red Corvet and then driving to the local Beeper Emporium where she pretty much ruled as its Beeper Queen.
"Um-hum," I said a little flustered but unrepentant at our little show of role reversal. "I have dusting to do." I stalked off to find housework to do. Any housework at all so I didn't have to sit there with my parents staring at me all day. This was the real me after all. The son they had never understood.
My temper was barely dulled by their polite acceptance of things so far. It was in their eyes. I saw that they were trying their best to not be condemning. Worse, they were just so fascinated with Alfred and Cecil but I wasn't ready to share them yet. Every time my mother made a motion to get near to either of my two kids to pick them up, I rushed over to hold them instead. I was paranoid without reason. Eventually, though, when my mother asked ever so politely I recalled the manners I was raised with and said, "Yes. Please hold her carefully."
As my mother cradled Cecil against her chest and gazed softly at her granddaughter, I forgave her somewhat. Maybe I actually forgave her a whole lot. It was own angry, rebellious, teenage heart that was the real problem here. It wasn't them. It was time I made peace with them. But of course I still wasn't ready to do that yet.
I wanted them to be amazed at Helga even if they still moped around as if they were disappointed (mostly stunned) in me. I wasn't following the path they had charted for me. At all. Instead of college I was a jobless bum who lived off his girlfriend. But happy as hell.
So a week from the day they arrived in Hillwood, I drove us all to Big Bob's Beeper Emporium to pay a scheduled trip to Helga. She had her own office there, and a secretary. A little mousy girl who was not quite as good as Phoebe. I knocked on the rear office door and poked my head in to address Miss Secretary Sofie.
"Hi," I said leading my whole troop of relatives in the door. "It's Arnold. I'm here to see Helga?"
"Go on in, she's expecting you," said the woman smiling. I turned to my parents.
"Wait here a second. I'll come back for you." I was nervous and needed a moment alone. I had never visited Helga at work before and I had bought a bouquet of flowers to give her. Cautiously, I walked in through the door and smiled. As it swung closed behind me, I held the bouquet of roses aloft.
"Um, who's my favorite president?" I quipped. Helga rolled her eyes at me and swung her feet to the floor. Then, with startling swiftness, she tugged her hair pins loose and shook her hair so that it tumbled loose from a bun into one long sheet. Then she rubbed her nose against mine in a startling new expression of affection.
"Sorry. I always wanted to do that," Helga explained. Her sparkling eyes reached deep into mine so I tugged her into my arms and kissed her.
"Ah," Helga said with contentment. But in a minute she placed one hand against my chest and pushed it back to signal she was ready to end our romantic moment.
"Where's the crew?"
"Right outside the door," I said running my fingers through my hair once, then opening the door to the office. Helga stood upright and proud as my parents, Grandpa, and two children filed in.
"Mommy!" said Alfred standing upright onto his toes and leaning onto her legs to give them a hug. At four now, he still recalled the days in which Helga had kept him in a playpen next to her desk as she worked. He looked around for some of his old toys now. Helga pulled a stuffingless bear from the a drawer and handed it to him. Then she set a focused, level gaze on my parents.
"Welcome. Welcome, please sit down. Pull up a chair. Any chair, that's right. It is so good of you to visit me."
"I hope we're not interrupting your work," my father said awkwardly. But Helga gazed back at him as though he were one of her customers here about a cellphone contract.
"Not at all," said Helga. "My father owns this company and I'm pretty much manager of this city's store. No, I can spare the time, certainly. Things will only get messy if my father promotes me to director of the this region's store. I'll have to give up my ballet job when he does. I'll simply have no time for it. Although that's for the best. Professional ballet dancers don't usually last past thirty before their ankles give out. This way, I've got a backup plan."
"Ah, yes," said my mother trying her best to warm up to Helga. "Arnold said you were in the ballet." I listened to my parents make small talk with Helga and I was struck by just how good at conversation Helga had gotten. As a child she had been a skilled manipulator but had always hurt everyone's feelings with her callous words. But now, she was a bonafide saleswoman. I saw Helga's eye flicker towards me with concern. She paused.
"Hold on a sec. Sofia? Go and brew us a fresh pot of coffee. Then bring it in here, pronto. Do you like sandwiches? Or pizza? I can call for takeout if you'd like." Helga must have seen me fidgeting in my broody, mysterious way. I grasped hold of the distraction.
"Sure."
My parents and Helga were still talking when the delivery pizza came in. We devoured it in the office. Then, with thoughtful silence, we all drove home. I waited for Helga anxiously. As if in anticipation of my dark mood, she came home a half hour early. She peeled off her shoes and still fully clothed, lay down in bed. I lay down too and wrapped my arms around her. Her warmth and scent were calming.
"Bad day, Arnoldo?" Helga asked stroking my hair. I yanked her a little tighter so I could press against her.
"Yeah. But you're here now so it's perfect."
"You know," said Helga softly. "Maybe we should go to the park tomorrow. Some real quality time."
"Or quantity time," I scoffed. It was a private joke that had begun with the Pataki's and the odd tales Helga had to tell about growing up. But it also expressed what I felt was true here.
"Now, now. When I was a little nine year old girl you were always telling me to give others a chance. I don't need to tell you you know better, Arnoldo." With her face scrunched up like that, Helga looked extra cute.
"Alright," I said giving her an extra kiss.