CHAPTER 5: I HAVE HER SHOE

After all was said and done, Arnold sat down on his couch. Out of breath from anxiously explaining to Gerald, Arnold put a hand on his chest.

"What happened next," Gerald said desperately wanting to know more.

"I…I asked her if there was anything else. She said there was one more thing."

Gerald impatiently waited for Arnold to give an answer.

"One more thing? Besides her being involved in the biggest Vietnamese family reunion ever?! Well, what was it?"

"I don't know. She…She took off. With no explanation."

Gerald's face shifted from shock and surprise to disappointment.

"Man! What else could there be?"

"I don't know, but it's driving me crazy," Arnold said pulling at his hair.

"It must be something pretty big if she didn't want you to know about it."

Arnold nodded. Helga had told him all sorts of things, but she refused to tell him one thing. What could it be? She had revealed to him so many secrets and truths that whatever she had left out must've been something huge. So huge that she is either embarrassed by it or wants to keep it a secret for some reason. Because of all the instances Helga had told him, Arnold began to think back. What could Helga have done in certain points of my life? Arnold thought. There are so many things in my life that Helga has influenced and I didn't even know it. Think Arnold, think!

"She wrote that pink book we found," Gerald snickered a little.

"It's not funny Gerald. What else is she keeping from me?"

Arnold rubbed his head. He wasn't lying when he told his parents that today had been a long day. Once more, his bedroom began to spin. Gerald took notice of Arnold's state and began to grow worried.

"Look, it's getting late. Maybe you should go to bed before you overwork yourself."

"Gerald, I can't. I have to figure this out," Arnold replied with a hint of fatigue in his voice.

"C'est la guerre," Gerald said shrugging his shoulders.

Still racking his brain, Arnold noticed the spinning room came to a stop after Gerald had just spoke.

"Gerald! Say that again!"

"What?"

"Whatever you said in French!"

"You mean c'est la guerre? It just means that's war, it can't be helped."

Arnold eyes grew wide. French. France. Chez. Che. Paris. Cecile. CECILE!

"CECILE!" Arnold yelled with an air of an ah-ha! moment.

"What are you talking about," Gerald said more confused now than ever.

"That night that I had dinner with my French pen pal Cecile! Only it wasn't Cecile, it was-"

Arnold stopped talking. The memories of that night came flooding back to him. He was heartbroken over learning the truth about Ruth P. McDougal who was nothing more than just a pretty face. However, coming back to the other restaurant to sit down and talk to "Cecile" was a big comfort to him.

"Maybe she isn't the girl for you. Maybe the girl for you is someone special. You know the most beautiful of gifts can come in the plainest box."

"You know…I think you're right."

"Arnold there's something I need to say. Arnold, I really like you and I have to know do you like me to?"

Arnold looked across the table at her as she batted her eyes at him. He looked down and saw her hand placed in front of him. For some reason or another, he wanted to grab it. This Cecile was different. She was soft-spoken and was willing to listen to Arnold and his problems. She was soft and delicate. She was-

Snapping back to reality, Arnold quickly ran over to his closet. He opened the door and began rifling through it. Gerald took notice of this sudden and strange behavior.

"What are you doing man?"

After searching, rummaging, and hunting, Arnold found what he was looking for. With one quick motion, he held up the item to Gerald. It was a plain red high-heeled shoe.

"I have her shoe," Arnold said.