Love is Like A Baseball Bat - The College Years
Chapter Three: The Telling
August 6th, 2011
It was The Tuesday.
Gerald had called Helga at least thirty times, but received no response. He really didn't want to tell Phoebe, especially not after what happened in her dorm room last week.
The e-mail she had sent was a warning, an alert, really. If something dangerous happened, someone would need to contact her parents. A young man had broke into the college dorm room with a loaded gun. Phoebe had been in her room, but the door was open, her bed in sight of the doorway. She heard a muffled shout and dove forwards to close her door. She texted her group of friends, warning them something was wrong and to avoid the dorm while she dialed the campus police.
The situation escalated to a hostage-negociation and all Phoebe could do was sit behind her door and try not to have a panic attack. She still remembered suffering when John tried to attack Deidrek, but she had been in the room with Gerald, Arnold and Helga. She felt safe with them around.
After a few hours of a constant state of alert, the police stormed the building and tazed the gang member. The college went on high security alert and everyone stayed tense.
So this really was the last thing Phoebe needed. But it had been and hour and Helga hadn't responded. So he took it upon himself to tell his very lovely and wonderful girlfriend what happened on vacation over a video chat.
Her response was unexpected.
She smiled, shaking her head, "I'm not mad."
Gerald slammed his hand onto his desk, "Phoebe, now is not the time to be noble. I married your best friend!"
"While intoxicated. I just got off the phone with Helga. She told me you two were so drunk you couldn't even stand at the altar. I promise you, I am not mad. Helga has expressed to me her opinions of you through the years, and she's really not a fan." Phoebe laughed. "All I want to know is how the idea of you two getting married came up." Phoebe's tone wasn't upset, just curious.
Gerald sighed, "Let me pull Helga up so you can hear it all once again."
Helga's computer beeped with that obnoxious Skype tone.
VIDEO CHAT WITH: geraldj33 and ph-8
"Shit." Helga closed her eyes as she clicked accept. She had already talked to Phoebe, but she had no idea if Gerald had coaxed her into tears or screams or what.
"Open your eyes, darling."
Her fists clenched against her mousepad, "I swear to God, Gerald if you don't stop with that-"
"Have you guys told Arnold yet?" Phoebe's question made Helga's skin blanch.
Gerald shook his head, "We're trying to ease him into it. And if you know, you'll be able to provide a rational explanation so he doesn't try to beat me within an inch of my life."
"And, I'm telling you this now so you don't get upset later," Helga rocked back in her chair, eyes directed at the ceiling, "We kissed."
"You kissed?" Phoebe repeated, shocked.
"For like one second. Not even. It's just the minister wouldn't let us leave without doing it. It was totally-"
"Unemotional. Uninvolved. It was like kissing my mom."
Phoebe became still, her laptop rocking on her dorm bed as she readjusted her position, pulling her knees to her chest so she could rest her chin on them. "I. . .I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"Believe me, I vomited at the thought the next day," Helga kept her eyes away from her camera, knowing that Phoebe was definitely hurt at that. She couldn't bare to look at her face. Helga was such a bad person, a true best friend betrayer.
"Yeah. Right on me."
Helga sneered, "In sickness and in health, dickwad."
"Can you please stop with the marriage jokes?" Now that was the angry tone the ex-spouses were expecting. Phoebe's cheeks were red, lips in a tight frown.
Helga bit her lip, looking at her best friend's eyes through the computer screen. "Joking is how we're dealing with this. This entire this feels like one big horrible punchline. You have to understand we didn't mean to hurt you." Helga could see tears brimming behind her glasses, "Phoebe, you know that I feel nothing beyond detest for Gerald and never will stop hating him."
Gerald's neck rolled around against the back of his desk chair. He'd been carrying so much stress in his neck after this fiasco. "I agree."
Phoebe nodded, knowing that Helga felt nothing for him. She had been hopelessly, desperately in love with Arnold for her entire life and no one -especially not Gerald - would change that. "I think I would feel better if Arnold were in this conversation. Then we'd be able to discuss things. I'm feeling a little. . .attacked."
And it was as if the Gods themselves agreed, because at that moment Arnold signed onto Skype.
"Fucking A," Helga hissed as Gerald clicked a video chat request.
Arnold smiled brightly at his laptop's camera. The computer had been graduation gift from his parents. He was happy to get rid of the old desktop. "Hey, guys! It's so great to see you. I had the funniest weekend, you'll never believe-" It was silent on the other end of his laptop. "You guys are acting like-" Arnold's eyes grew wide, "Oh my, God, what's wrong?"
Phoebe looked into the camera lens, "Helga and Gerald have some interesting news, Arnold."
"I don't like the sound of that."
Helga covered her head in her hands, speaking to her palms quietly. Arnold couldn't hear her. "What?"
"While Gerald and I were in the Bahamas last week, we. . ." tears were brimming in her eyes. She really couldn't believe this happened. She had no idea how Arnold would react. She had hoped it would be like Phoebe. Taking it calmly and rationally, even though she was feeling hurt.
Helga hung her head in shame, speaking loudly into the mike, "we got married."
Arnold laughed. He laughed until his sides stung and tears fell from his eyes. "That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time."
"Arnold," Gerald's voice was low, "it's not a joke."
The smile disappeared.
The emotion that boiled in the pit of his stomach was anger. It radiated throughout his body, shocking him with heat burning under his skin and a scowl at the computer screen. He so badly wanted to break something.
Gerald began explaining, "We were drunk."
"Fucked out of our minds," Helga corrected. Arnold said nothing. "It's been annulled and taken care of. We are not married and were only, technically,married for seventy-two hours under Bahamian law."
"Almost as long as Kim Kardashian," Gerald joked.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Silence fell upon the three other teens.
Arnold was breathing hard. He had never been this mad before. He knew the profanity was a little overkill, but at the moment he needed to say it. This wasn't a time for jokes. He thought he had been mad at Big Bob when he tried to take Helga away, but this crossed the line beyond normal anger. This was downright outrage.
How could they do this to him? To Phoebe? He had never felt more betrayed by two people whom he loved.
He couldn't explain why this hurt him so much. The marriage was annulled, it no longer existed, it didn't really happen. He figured his reaction would've been normal if they were still married.
But they weren't.
So why did he still feel like throwing his laptop at the wall?
"Can you please tell us how this whole ordeal came up?" Phoebe finally asked, breaking the tense silent that had settled in.
"Jamie-O's boss needed him to take the yacht to the Bahamas to pick him up and help with business. Jamie-O invited me, and told me I could bring a friend so I wouldn't be bored while he worked. And I invited Helga to come along. . . ."
Helga's phone rang with a text. She had hoped it was Arnold, but once glance at the screen and she groaned.
GERALD: JAMIE-O IS TAKING A YACHT TO THE BAHAMAS. YOU IN?
Helga, instead of texting back, hit 'Call.' Gerald picked up, "Yes?"
She scoffed, "A cruise to the Bahamas, are you kidding me?"
"You and I both know we're miserable and moping. A little vacation would be good. We wouldn't even have to spend any time together after we stepped off the boat."
Helga nodded, that sounded like an excellent plan. "Do I have to pay for this or what?"
"As if. Anything we buy will be a company expense. And the legal drinking age is 18."
That sparked more interest. "Maybe." She groaned, "There's no way Miriam or Olga would let me go to the Bahamas. Trust me, if I need a passport to get there, Olga would deem it dangerous."
"I really don't want to go alone, Helga. I'll have no one to talk to on the flight or the boat. Can't you just lie to them?"
"You're really whiny, Hair Boy. How does Phoebe even put up with you?" She sighed, "But if it means that much to you, I will tell them I'm. . .driving to see Arnold or something. Just e-mail me the flight details. Where are we even going, anyway?"
"Tampa is where the yacht is docked. It's at his summer home. We fly in the morning, get in the early afternoon and sail all day and through the night. We'll be in the Bahamas for four days before turning back."
"Sounds like a plan. What hotel are we parking at?"
"Atlantis, apparently. It's a classy place, so pack accordingly."
Helga grumbled but agreed. "I'll text you if I can actually go." She pulled up the hotel's website on her laptop before going downstairs.
"I felt awful lying to Miriam," Helga confessed. "But you guys know how Olga is. If she set her mind to ruling the US, she could persuade Obama to step down."
Phoebe nodded, listening intently.
Arnold still remained silent, clearly waiting for the real details of the story to unfold.
Gerald picked up where Helga left off, "We met up outside her place so she could drive us to the airport. It worked with her lie that she was driving. . ."
After parking and making their way through security and customs, the three sat beside each other on the plane.
"This is gonna be fun," Gerald promised as he looked out the window. Helga had been forced to sit in between the two Johannsen boys, considering she had the smallest legs.
"I hope so." She sighed. It felt weird traveling without Arnold. She had left him a message saying she would be gone with Gerald. She promised to be careful and not do anything stupid, like getting arrested or swim in the ocean. She still really missed him and was counting down the days until August 16th.
23 more days.
The flight to Florida took about three hours and the drive to the owner's house only took about half an hour. Jamie-O had followed the directions from his boss exactly, not wanting to risk screwing up a job like this.
"The captain will be meeting us at the house. Do not touch anything," Jamie-O hissed as he pulled into the long brick driveway. Helga stared at the size of the mansion. It had to be the biggest beach house she'd ever seen! The house had to be at least four stories, the doorway was up twenty very steep brick steps. The front of the house was mostly tinted glass.
"We're not going inside. Come on, go around to the boat." Jamie-O tugged Gerald's collar and guided him between the large hedges hiding a metal fence.
"Wow, that is one big boat." Gerald whistled.
"Can this guy adopt me?" Helga gasped, looking at the back of the house. A large bay window sat on the second story, cream colored curtains drawn back to explose a beautiful crystal chandelier.
"Seriously."
The three shook hands with the captain before tossing their suitcases downstairs. Helga excused herself to change in the small boat bathroom. It had to be the same size an an airplanes, there was hardly any room to move.
"I don't call this bathroom very luxurious!" Helga shouted as her ass pressed against the skin while she slipped her bikini bottoms on.
"Guest bathrooms are smaller than master's," Gerald replied as he pulled his swim trunks up. Together the two climbed onto the second deck, backs resting on the hot leather seats at the bow. Jamie-O was up on the third level with the captain, talking to his boss on his cell.
"I can't wait to get to the Bahamas." Helga reclined against the port side seats, hair falling free and blowing in the wind.
"I told you, we just needed a vacation."
"Yeah, I'm not even thinking about-" her voice trailed off before she could even think to complete her lie. Of course she missed Arnold. If he was here, they'd be cuddled up against the stern kissing and laughing and talking about how romantic dinner would be over looking the ocean, how great it would be to sneak into an empty hotel room. . .
"I know," Gerald sighed and imitated Helga's position. The two laid on the deck, soaking up the sun, until it set. They ate a simple meal in the lower deck: chicken, soup, vegetables. Gerald and Helga turned in early, both feeling a little sea sick. After popping some Dramamine, they were passed out cold until the following afternoon.
The pair were more than ready to dock and step on land again.
The captain cheerily announced their arrival, which encouraged the teens to change back into bathing suits, pack up their travel bags, and get excited.
The two jumped onto the dock before the boat was fully parked. "We'll see you soon, Jamie-O!" Gerald called back as he and Helga took off running up the coral colored concrete steps.
The docks ran along a mini Main Street, filled with different restaurants and shops. Children of all ages, dressed in wet bathing suits, were running around while parents stood in line to order ice cream.
"Why are there children here? I thought you said this was a classy place?" Helga hissed while shoved Gerald's shoulder. The two were walking up the ramp from the marina, towards the glass doors of the hotel.
"Didn't you look it up online? They have some kid thing going on now."
"Let's just get to the bar. I'm going to need to be drunk to deal with screaming kiddies," Helga sighed as the blast of air conditioning made her shiver.
The two walked through the white tiled room, paintings of landscapes and tropical islands covering the walls between the hotel's lobby and rooms. Helga could hear the echoing sounds of slot machine bings off to her left. Gerald pulled her towards the right, up a few steps and around a large glass sculpture. It looked like clear coral growing from the ground.
The pair walked through another area of designer shops, full of diamond jewelry and fancy dresses.
The hallway finally opened up into the lobby.
"Wow," Helga gasped and walked towards the center. The ceiling was a dome painting in a beautiful mural of a the discovery of Atlantis. The colors aqua, coral, black gold, were reflected around the lobby. The check in desks were gold plated and the tiles had black diamonds around them.
The hotel was divided into a few sections: the Royal Towers, East and West. West was attached to the lobby, and met with the East by a bridge on the 20-something floor. On the bridge were all private suites.
The Coral and Beach towers were on the far side of the hotel, beyond the the casino. And the recently built The Reef, which was most 'condo' like, perfect for big families. It was farthest away from the Main Lobby, due to the pools and slides in between.
Heading down the stairs towards the pool, Helga stopped to look at the aquarium tanks. "That is one big sting ray."
Poseidon, the giant 20-foot wingspan sea animal, swam around the tank and broke the surface to suck down whatever food the employee was offering him. The rest of the small fish swam around, ignoring the giant beast as he swooped around in the water.
"It's actually the Giant Oceanic Manta Ray, manta birostris. The hotel named him Poseidon."
Helga rolled her eyes, "Phoebe told you that, didn't she?"
"As soon as I e-mailed her I was coming here she did research. I actually listen to the stuff she says, unlike some people." Gerald gave Helga a pointed look.
"Oh, come on, you're telling me you listened to her very lengthy description of the invention of modeling clay last year?"
"Yes. I learned about Play-Doh too." Helga laughed and dragged Gerald away from the aquarium.
"Let's go to the bar!"
Stepping outside to the sunshine again, Helga walked down the steps towards the pool. A long fountain filled with metal flying horses was spouting water for kids to laugh at.
The bar was wedged between the Temple slides and boardwalk to the beach.
Gerald and Helga jumped into the white metal chairs, relaxing against the blue cushions reeking of sun screen and salt water. The bartender smiled at them, his red hair buzzed into a low mohawk. He tossed his black tie over his shoulder as he mixed up a martini.
"Since it's still early, I think we should take it slow, don't you?" Helga asked with a smile.
Gerald smirked, "Buddy, can we get two Tequila shots?" He winked. "Each."
"And the entire afternoon was us at the bar. After every drink, the guy would give us cups of water. He was pacing us."
Arnold's face had set. He was staring through his camera with a passive face, his eyes clearly flaming in anger.
"And he laughed every time a kid came up to the bar beside me," Helga laughed at the memory. "I would cringe and turn away."
"Helga, were you rude to them?" Phoebe asked, trying hard to suppress her smile. Helga drunk and around kids meant she heckled them a little.
"No. Gerald wouldn't let me say anything. Neither would the bartender. If the kid looked older than twelve I'd laugh out loud at what they'd order."
"So, we were still at the bar, drinking off the last of our mixed drinks when we hear violins playing. . ."
A wedding was being held on the beach, romantic with the sunset, and Helga had it set in her mind that they needed to crash the reception.
"Did you bring anything appropriate for a wedding?" Helga asked as they walked back towards the boat. She was drunk but pulling off being sober well. Like she had many times before.
"Just a button down and slacks, but I can steal one of Jamie-O's ties. Why is getting into the wedding so important?"
"Free alcohol. And we get to make fun of strangers." Helga jumped onto the boat and walked downstairs, locking herself in the bathroom to change.
Olga had forced her shopping the day after graduation. Begrudgingly she accepted the clothes, but in her drunken changing, Helga had never been more grateful for her annoying sister. Olga had forced her to buy a long white halter dress with a black circle in the middle of her chest where the straps hooked around.
She found herself swaying against the wall in the bathroom as she struggled to put on her wedge heels. But after a minute she managed to slip them on correctly. "You decent, Hair Boy?"
"Just getting my tie, Pataki." He checked himself out in the mirror, laughing.
Helga threw her hands up in the air, smiling as Gerald tossed her her clutch. She missed it and the pair started laughing. "Let's rock this wedding!"
The two sneaked in under the velvet ropes. Employees were working on removing the plastic chairs from the ceremony while the dance floor became crowded. A DJ had been set up to replace the performers from the ceremony. A white tent covered the buffet of food, white Christmas lights hanging down to provide some light and give guests a chance to see the stars.
Helga picked up a place card, feeling herself swaying with the beach wind. "Wanna be a couple or two single strangers?"
Gerald shook his head, holding Helga's shoulder to steady her, "Should we really take place cards?"
"Of course!"
There were only three place cards left, obviously the guests who wouldn't show. A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick and Jenna Washington, and two names Helga couldn't pronounce. Most likely Russian. . .but it could have been the alcohol.
"Couple it is," she declared, lifting the gold plate card adorned in sea shells. Gerald rolled his eyes. How badly could this turn out?
Table Four had two other young couples.
Gerald quickly gave Helga a wink as he pulled her chair back in the sand. Laughing, she dropped into it. To everyone else they looked like the most harmonious pair, smiling and laughing and weirdly in love.
Gerald leaned over to the man beside him, who looked to be in his late twenties and had a Yankees baseball cap over his head, "Patrick Washington nice to meet you."
"Spencer Allen," he lifted his hand from the table, shaking Gerald's with an impressive amount of force, before leaning back to expose a deeply tanned and very exotic looking woman, "my fiancé, Grace."
Gerald offered them a congratulations. Helga was trying hard not to burst into laughter. Her thought of 'such a charmer' almost made her polite smile break into a full on drunken grin.
The other couple was two young women who looked positively love sick in the best way possible. Diana and Zoey had their fingers interlaced on the table cloth and it really struck Helga and Gerald. He tried to smile through the little pang kicked his heart: I miss you, Phoebe.
"Oh, almost forgot. This is my wife, Jenna." Helga waved at her new acquaintances.
"How do you two know the couple?" Zoey asked as Diana watched the couples on the dance floor.
Helga was too drunk to think fast on her feet. Normally she would've had an entire backstory by now. She was a writer, damn it!
"We actually met them in the airport on the way here," Gerald supplied quickly. "Bonded over weddings and whatnot."
Helga visibly relaxed in her chair.
"You look awfully young, though," Spencer tilted his head to the right to examine Gerald more closely.
"Oh, we've heard that all our lives. Never looked old enough. People still say that I should be in high school," Gerald tossed his head back and laughed. "Plus, we married young. How long ago was it?" Gerald asked, clearly in a teasing tone.
"Right out of college. . . " she paused, hoping to pass off a reflective expression, "Has it really been five years?"
"Must be." Gerald leaned back a little and draped his arm around the back of Helga's chair. She tried to forget how when Arnold did it sometimes he would move his hand to her shoulder, down her arm, pull her close.
"Now it is with my greatest pleasure to announce the arrival of Dr. and Mrs. Parker Evans," the lead singer of the band smiled, lips pressed against the mike. The bride and groom, still wearing their very formal attire, walked out down a candle-lit path, hands intertwined. Once they reached the center of the empty dance floor, they shared a quick kiss, pulling back to grin and laugh. The crowd of a hundred or so applauded, stopping only to accept champagne as waiters/esses in all white outfits handed the full flutes out.
The glasses brought on a new tink-clink-tink sound as people tapped them with silverware. Spencer started chanting, "Speech!" It was clear from Parker's smile the boys were old friends.
Parker hesitantly stepped onto the stage, smiling anxiously at the crowd. "I just wanted to thank you all for being here today, for coming all the way from Maine or as far away as France," the recently named Mrs. Parker Evans turned and waved at some of her relatives, "and spending your week here with us. Please, enjoy the food and dance until we get kicked off the beach!"
Everyone cheered and held up their glasses in celebration.
A few minutes later, a petite girl stepped on stage, "Sorry to interrupt our lovely band, but someone's informed me we should do the planned speeches now so we have more time to dance!"
The crowd applauded again.
"I guess I'll go first. . . .I'm Gianna Anderson, our lovely bride Mary's older sister. When I was asked to be maid of honor, my first thought was 'Crap, I owe her for woking my wedding!'" Everyone laughed. "But after I reluctantly joined her crusade to have the best wedding ever, I got to know her fiancé better. Parker had been in medical school and working on his residency for the entirety of their relationship and the poor guy never got a break. But getting to know him in the context of planning this wedding. . ." she shook her head, "he's incredible. Calm under pressure and excellent at calming his wife, I was beyond impressed at how well he knew my little sister."
Gianna stepped down the stage and crossed the stage to the table of honor, where the in-laws and immediate families sat. "Parker got the flowers, band, seating chart and location chosen in one night with swift discussions and encouraging smiles. And I sat there on the floor in front of Mary's coffee table in shock and awe. Made me wish my husband was half as helpful." There were a few whooping calls and shouts of 'Dave!'
Helga laughed and looked up at Gerald. They were wearing matching expressions, clearly thinking about their real beloveds back in the States.
"This guy," Gianna had moved behind the table, smiling at Parker, "had officially joined the Anderson clan just hours after meeting Mary... "
". . .We walked into their house, drunk out of our minds after hitting Mary's favorite bar. To celebrate meeting new friends," the speaker winked, "Mary decided we should go back to her house. Little did we know we'd meet her parents," the best man Keith was laughing and wiping his eyes, "and Parker had the balls to challenge Mr. Anderson in a drinking contest. I'd heard stories from Mary and knew this was a horrible idea. But I was impressed that Parker could hold his own. As a senior in college, we were all experienced drinkers. But none of us expected the stamina from the old man."
"Hey, I'm not that old!" a voice called from the crowd.
"You have two married daughters, old timer. Pretty soon you'll be grandparents," Keith smirked, taking a sip of his beer that he held in his free hand. "And we watched in horror as Bruce, good ol' Bruce, chugged the last of the pitcher and belched. I applauded the man, and in my inebriated state of mind, praised the Gods for him." More laughter. "It was at that moment I knew that Bruce approved of Parker. And it worked out for the best. God knows he wouldn't want me as his son-in-law."
There were more speeches from parents and the people of honor, then everyone was dismissed to get more food or dance. Diana and Zoey zipped off to the floor, swaying to a romantic ballad.
"I'm definitely not drunk enough to dance," Helga whispered.
"Sure, then tell yourself to stop swaying." She had been rocking and leaning in closer to Gerald's arm.
"That's the other alcohol, not the music," Helga rolled her eyes. "Do you think you'd be able to get to the food table or should I?"
"You're drunk in heels on the sand. I'll take it," Gerald rose from his seat, asking Spencer and Grace if they needed anything. They declined.
Spencer decided to go talk to Parker, leaving Helga - Jenna - and Grace alone.
"How long have you and Patrick been together?"
Five years since marriage. . . four years in college. . .give one year in high school. . . "Almost ten years." Making them almost twenty-nine. Sure, she could pass for that.
"Wow. No kids?"
"Oh, no. We're in the process of moving from our old neighborhood to Hillwood."
Grace's interest seemed piqued. "What's in Hillwood for you?"
Helga smirked, "Good school district, nice neighborhoods. Ger-Patrick thinks it's a good idea for when we want children."
Yeah, right.
She could practically hear Arnold screaming in her mind. They hadn't even talked about life after college, let alone their future. She did have quite a few suspicions about Arnold's ideas though, the most recent flashing neon sign was from Valentine's Day: Arnold intertwined their fingers, lifting Helga's hand up so he could see the ring on her finger. He kissed the band quickly, and couldn't help but smile. Helga found herself watching Arnold's expression. His smile had faded to a look of content.
Possibly jumping the quicksand a little bit, but three years together was a long time. And Helga had always been a very forward-thinking girl.
She couldn't even imagine what was running through Gerald's mind right now. She was pretty sure he and Phoebe agreed to get married in middle school.
And even pretending to be wed to someone else felt like cheating.
She knew people thought Pheebs and Gerald were crazy, that dating for so long meant that they were just comfortable and didn't want to be with other people, see what was out there. The truth was that there was no one out there better for each other than Phoebe and Gerald (excluding herself and Arnold). Fate just didn't like to play games with them.
Gerald returned a minute later, interrupting the silence Helga didn't even notice had settled. Grace had been watching Spencer and Parker laughing. Gerald put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't have to stay with Jenna, Grace." She turned back, surprised, but smiled and left the table without another word.
Helga held her head in her hands, elbows propped up against the silk tablecloth. "If anyone asks we're moving to Hillwood soon because you want kids."
He snorted. "Sure."
"And we've been together since our senior year of high school. . .ten years."
"Got it." He shoved a plate overflowing with food in between her arms.
Helga smiled, "Thank you, honey."
He tossed her a friendly wink before finishing off another glass fo champagne. "That's why you love me, darling."
"We were drunk for the next twenty four hours, occasionally talking to guests who recognized us from the wedding." Gerald resume cracking his neck.
"Our blood alcohol level was probably hovering above poisoning for the entire trip, dipping in when we got married."
Gerald exhaled deeply through his nose, eyes shut as he recalled the headache he felt the morning after. And the vomiting. Oh, the color of the marina's water had changed drastically. "We got smashed just to get through that."
"I think. . ." Helga sighed, "I think it was more us marrying to close that gap between us," Helga nodded to Arnold, whose lips were pulled back into a concentrated frown. "We were imagining someone else at the altar."
"When were you, married, officially?" Phoebe asked. Helga felt relieved to focus on solid facts instead of drunk opinions.
Helga glanced up from her desk where an annulment ticket sat, "Early in the morning on July 30th. It was annulled August 2nd," she added quickly. "Rhonda's lawyers do great work."
"So it's over?" Phoebe's eyes flickered from Gerald to Helga.
"Completely done," Helga nodded. Nothing but a nightmare now, she thought.
"Can I. . ." Arnold's voice cracked. "I need a minute with Helga." Everyone had been surprised to hear him speak. He had been silent for the past three hours.
Gerald clicked off immediately, too terrified to say anything. Phoebe gave them a polite goodbye.
The humming of the overheating computers filled the silence.
Arnold got up to his feet, turning his computer as he paced back and forth. Helga watched, dejected. "What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to beokay with this?" He pulled at his hair, growling under his breath.
"No."
"How. . .how can I trust you now?"
She knew there was no way they could rebuild a shattered relationship being separated by college. "You can't," her lower lip trembled.
More silence.
"Gerald," his voice shot a bolt of heat to her stomach. His best friend, the boy he knew since he was three, married to his girlfriend. How did someone accept that?
Drunk actions are sober ideas.
Arnold's fists were curled against his sides, with Helga pleading, "Don't, stop, you'll hurt your shou-" whack! Despite the thousands of miles between them, Helga still ducked. Arnold shoved something off his desk and onto the floor. His fist then made an impact against the fake wood of his desk. The laptop shook and it was on the bed.
"I don't know if I should be more angry or just more-" the thick taste of upcoming tears settled in his throat. "You kissed him, you married him, you probably f-"
Helga shrieked, "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Arnold Shortman. I. Would. Never."
"I wouldn't put it past him." Now everything tasted bitter. The knot in his gut made the bitter bile and taste of tears threaten to rise.
"We were so drunk and disoriented on the boat. We passed out on the deck and woke up when the sun rose. We saw the rings on our fingers and screamed. Then the rocking of the boat got to me and. . ."
"Bet that killed the mood," he shot back with just the smallest hint of sarcasm.
"There was no mood! Arnold, I love you, and I never meant to-we were just so miserable-" she couldn't explain herself. Not when she saw him hovering in front of the webcam with tears in his eyes and a scowl pulling his lips.
"Time," was all he said before clicking off the screen.
Shawn was never surprised. It was something his sisters hated about him, jumping out of closets or suddenly screaming while driving a car couldn't make him jump. But Shawn had never met Arnold. That boy was full of surprises.
Shawn was in for the shock of his life when he walked in their room to see his roommate's face streaked with tears and a hardly used hair dryer in at least ten pieces on the floor.
"Dios mio," he gasped and shut the door quickly. The hollow sound of fake wood slamming made Arnold look up from his laptop screen. "What happened?" Shawn gestured to the dryer and then to Arnold's face.
Arnold turned his head, wiping tears away before clearing his throat. He shut his eyes, brows furring, as if the memory of what happened was painful, "My best friend married my girlfriend."
Scratch that, now Shawn had never been more surprised.
"Jesús Cristo, are you kidding me?" Before Arnold responded, Shawn answered his own question, "Of course not, other wise you wouldn't be crying to your computer." He gasped over-dramatically. "Are they still together? Oh my God, has this been going on the whole time?"
"No. They've hated each other since, like, the dawn of time and only recently became civil."
"Oh," Shawn bent down and picked up the wires, balling them up tossing them into the trash can. "So, why the hell did they get married?"
"They were in the Bahamas and thought that being married looked nice, and they were so drunk that they decided to go do it."
Shawn let out a low whistle. "So, going home in a few days is really going to suck, right?" Arnold groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay." Arnold sat up in bed, "I just. . .don't know if I can even face her, let alone Gerald."