Sugar-coated cereal with the little prizes in the box had always been my favorite breakfast food when I was a kid. It was Alfred's, too, so we went through nearly an entire box of the chewy, crunchy bits every day. Milk, too. Oh, was I ever going to the local grocer's to pick up another jug of milk!
One morning, when I stood in line at the grocers where Gerald's mother still worked, I was particularly aware of the odd stare a few mothers with their kids strapped in their grocery carts were giving me. They were gossiping about me clearly and Gerald's mother shook her head softly and gave me a comforting smile.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," she said because she had been a true friend to both Helga and me over the course of our lives. Plus she was my best friend's mother. "You're a good kid. They just don't know you and what's happening with you all."
"But it might make things difficult for Alfred," I said thinking that in three years it would be elementary school for my son. I spoke out loud because Gerald's mother was the one person who could really understand. Grocery shopping had become my own little therapy session. "But I don't think that would help me sell the idea of marriage to Helga."
"She'll drop you hints," said Helga's old co-worker and mentor. "Or maybe even tell you directly. Helga isn't one to beat around the bush."
"No she isn't," I said as I pocketed my cash receipt and picking up my plastic shopping bag of groceries.
"Give it time. Helga needs to be comfortable with your parents. Even more than you do. Especially after what happened."
"Right," I said thinking glumly of our encounter when we were twelve. My parents had disapproved of Helga. They had yelled at the two of us and thrown her out of our house. Forever. Now even I had to admit that was a lot to forgive.
The irony was that Helga and I were now living together, unmarried, in the same house where all of this had started. I owned the Sunset Arms now and it was my rule. Helga could and would live there for as long as I drew breath. But now that my parents had come here to make peace my life had become increasingly complicated.
Doubtless, Helga was the love of my life. The two children we had together were my greatest treasures. I would give anything to be with them forever- and that was likely, provided my parents did not scare Helga off.
"Hello," said Helga standing in her nightdress and bathroom in the kitchen when I got back home. "Welcome back, honey." She offered me a cup of sweetened coffee and I held it to one side of my body with one hand while we embraced and kissed.
"Has Alfred woken up yet?" I asked trying not to slosh the coffee all over the kitchen table. I sat down and took a sip of it.
"Not yet," said Helga. Her soft hand rested on my shoulder and I gloried on it. I especially savored it when she played with a few unruly locks of my hair before embracing me from behind once, then sat down at the table with me. I lay my hand on top of hers. Ah, Helga! I'd love her forever, I thought.
"So," announced Helga because it was she who decided the family's schedule. I was the one who babysat the kids and did the cleaning. "I have dance recital today. I was thinking..."
"Another barbeque?" I said glumly. Helga gave my hand a firm squeeze.
"No, Arnoldo. You should bring everyone to sit in at the practice. No one will mind. Rhonda and Curly want to meet the family at lunch, anyway. Now's the perfect time to do it."
"Rhonda?" I said the coffee cup freezing halfway to my lips. "Curly?" These fellow classmates had married young mostly because their parents were both from rich and respected families. Money tends to take marriage very seriously. It's not the love that matters so much as the marriage is proper and sound. At least on the surface. Curly's cash had proven irresistible to Rhonda. Plus there was some strange sort of chemistry between them. But it was awkward for me to be around them. When I was a child, I almost felt certain that Rhonda had been sweet on me when she wasn't calling me poor. Then there was Curly. There was no cause for me to be jealous but I hated the fact that he was a professional dancer who worked with Helga. I couldn't stand seeing anyone dance with Helga but me.
"If you say so, Helga," I said burying my pout by taking a shot of coffee. I refilled the cup and resigned myself to a miserable afternoon.
At least it wasn't another barbecue. I hated the awkward silence, the forced conversation as my parents and I tried to make conversation. Dad was all about teaching history and archeology now instead of exploring. His last expedition had ended up making him go missing for eight full years. During that time, Grandma and Grandpa had raised me. Then I had to found a way to go to San Lorenzo and been reunited with my parents. But my new life with my parents in it had become a nightmare when they had decided to tear me away from Helga and move from Hillwood.
Helga was now nineteen, same as I, and a professional ballet dancer. At noon, I loaded up the Packard with a baby bag and strapped Cecil into her car seat. Then I drove my parents and two kids to the theatre house where Helga and her co-workers were rehearsing for their next production. Grandpa had to stay home because there weren't enough seats in the car.
I carried Cecil in a little plastic bassinet with one hand. With my other, I held Alfred's hand firmly. There were many rows of plastic red theatre seats- all empty because there wasn't a show. Alfred scurried over to one of the red chairs and chose it for himself. Then he chose another, then another, until he had worked himself down the aisles near enough to see his mother on the stage.
"Hi Mommy!" he said waving a hand and spinning around in his chair. I imagined he might like to take up ballet, too. He liked piano. Helga gave her son a wave and blew him a kiss before she resumed her practice with the dance troop.
My own mother and father walked slowly into the large theatre and sat down. I had better things to watch so I sat down and watched Helga spin and twirl and pose on the stage. It wasn't Swan Lake this time but something more abstract. Not that I completely understood theatre arts, anyway.
I bottle fed Cecil until I was bored and calm enough to speak to my parents again. I patted Cecil on the back to burp her and moved slowly over to where they were seated.
"Fun, huh? Dancing," I said. "Dancing must be fun. Not that I know ballet," I stumbled. Grandma had taught me nearly every dance under the sun. But not ballet. That was Helga's art.
"Yes, it looks lovely, sweetie," said my mother smiling. She and my father pretty much were unsocial people so dancing was not their thing. Being obsessed with research and each other was. It was for this reason that they just could not understand the damage they had done to me. I was the neighborhood. The neighborhood was my blood. My friends and social connections with nearly everyone around me were how I defined myself. And I was a pretty damn good dancer.
"Yes, dancing is fun," I said making a mental note to take Helga dancing as soon as possible. I didn't want Curly to get all her dance time. I was just grateful that in this theatre production, another girl had been chosen for lead instead of Helga.
We watched the practice for two hours before it finally ended. Now we could all go to lunch as planned. Curly showed up beside the stage along with Rhonda. She grasped my hand by the wrist and shook it.
"Arnold, darling, how are you doing?" she said in her preppy, upper-class, debutant sort of way. Marrying into another rich family and spending lots of Curly's yearly income had done nothing to diminish her overbearing pride.
"Nice to see you again, too, Rhonda," I said awkwardly. But I was glad. She had been a reliable member of my baseball team as a kid and a good friend.
"So glad to see you and Helga finally got together," Rhonda announced loudly. "I always knew it. You and Helga were so meant for each other." I grinned broadly then. It was like Rhonda had sunk a hole in one against my parents who stood silently at the edge of the crowd.
When greetings were over I opened my menu and looked for a sandwich to eat. Rhonda did most of the talking at lunch. We said our goodbyes and promised to meet Rhonda and Curly again for coffee and breakfast pastries.
It had started out as a good afternoon. But when we returned to the boarding house I discovered I really wished I had taken Grandpa with us. He was ninety-one and frail. Sometime while we had been out he had fallen and broken his hip. He had not been able to get up in all that time.
"Oh God! Grandpa!" I said calling an ambulance.
OK I LIED. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE ME WAY MORE THAN ONE CHAPTER TO COMPLETE. SHEESH. FALLS OVER IN WEARINESS.