In Helga's View

"Hair!"

"What?"

"RED!"

"WHAT?"

"HAIR THAT IS RED! RED HAIR!"

"Helga, I'm think I'm going to need more than that" Phoebe croaks out groggily. "RED HAIR! IN. MY. ROOM!"

"Are we talking about Lila?"

"Criminy! I cannot believe him! He's been sober less than six months! His grandparents JUST became worm food and already he's...RED HAIR!"

"Did he color his hair red?"

"Did I SAY he did?"

"No! But you haven't said much else! UG! Hold ON!" The phone crackles a little as Kyo's crying breaks through. I hear Phoebe trying, and failing, to sooth her son. He wails on like it's his only job and I get flashbacks of what it was like when Phil was that age. The crying, the late night rocking fests to get him to rest...the times I only went to work with a single hour of sleep. Criminy...how could I be so selfish? Here my best friend is dealing with a screaming child and I prattle on about Arnold.

"Ok, I'm listing." She sighs.

"Geez, Phoebs...I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For...calling you and waking up Kyo."

"Oh, that's ok. You're doing what you do best. You barge in my life when I'm busy and even though YOU KNOW I'm busy you still demand help." Her voice sounds a off and I can tell she's only had a few seconds of sleep all week.

"And I never say no" she adds between yawns, "because the second I do something horrible will happen and I will have to pause my life, once again, and come clean it up while YOU learn nothing. I used to be mad, but now, I'm centered. Because I realize this world is comprised of two people. The messers, and the cleaners. And we're just playing our roles, aren't we?"

"Oh Phoebe I really-"

"I know. You're sorry. But no matter how sorry you are that won't change the fact that when another hellish event happens, and it will, you will call me."

"But-"

"We'll be by at 7 like always. See you then!" she hangs up, her click really digging into me. I hate to admit it, but she's right. And even though I want to change,I can't. And yet...if I can stay sober, then I change this. I will stop using my best friend this way and I will stop yelling at Arnold. If it is the LAST thing I do, I'll stop yelling at him.

"Ok...this is not bad right? So what if some redhead that looks like Lila comes to dinner, it's just one dinner right? She'll sit down, she'll eat and then she'll leave. Simple. Nothing to worry over. There!" I walk into the living room and check on Phil who's busy watching Yo Gabba Gabba, amazed that at the simple age of 3 he's able to work the TV. I'm in my late 20s and I STILL mess it up.

"And this is the living room, and of course my son Phil! He's 3." I turn and see the Redhead and Arnoldo waltzing in, a little smile across her evil-evil face.

"So, wait, there really was a tenant with a live chicken in here? And I thought living in a funeral home was bad!" The way she keeps giggling makes me want ram her over with the Packard, LOVING the image of the old jalopy cracking her little red skull in two.

"Can you please turn off the TV and say hello to our guest?" Arnoldo asks, walking over to our son. At first Phil resists, but then Arnold hoists him on his hip and shuts off the TV himself.

"Phil, I'd like you to meet Claire Fisher. She'll be eating dinner with us. Won't that be fun!" Phil looks away from her, not sure if she should be trusted and for a second I feel calmer. Ok...so at least my son is on my side. But then, just when I'm about to keep my promise of cooling off, the bitch walks right up to my son and starts singing.

"I'm a lonely little Petunia in an Onion Patch, An Onion patch, and onion patch. I'm a lonely little Petunia in an Onion Patch and all I do is cry all day!..bahoo-wa-hoo! Bahoo-wa-hoo!" She holds out her devilish hand, making sure my scared son will take it. I try to control myself, the urge to kick her down becoming WAY too much. How can she do that? How can Arnold let her? So what if she's another Perfect Girl? So what if she had perfect locks of hair and perfect teeth and a perfect singing voice?

But then, as I think about the oh-so-blissful pop in the jaw I want to give her, I stop myself. The second I lay a hand on her Arnold will pull his "Oh, let me help you up" bit and before I know it he'll be nursing her righteously bruised face while I toil in the kitchen over a lava hot stove. Criminy. Just what I need.

"So, staying for dinner eh?" She looks up and I can see little beads of sweat forming on her forehead, her eyes still wide with fear.

"If that's ok with you. Seriously, I totally do not mind leaving. I can just come another time, really..."

"Nonsense!" Arnold exclaims, "We'd be happy to have you! Isn't that right Little Phil?" My husband starts playing with Phil's hands, repeating that wretched song the ever-so evil Lila look-alike dared to pipe. I can feel my rage building as my son claps along with his father, Clair tentatively joining in.

"FINE!" I say through gritted teeth, "Let me set her a place at the table!" I turn and storm out, too angry for words. How can he do that! How could SHE! That slimy little redhead just waltzing in like she owns the joint! Like she's a friend to everybody! HOW DARE she touch MY flesh and blood! Did she give birth to him? NO! Did ARNOLD have to crack open his lower half for that head! NO! GOD!

"THATS IT!" I was about to open up the flatware cabinet when I saw it, a small bottle of rum hidden behind the toaster oven, it's distinctive Bacardi Bat logo shining on the black cap. Criminy Arnold! Six months out of rehab and you're already lazily hiding booze? I grabbed it, feeling the white-hot anger spread through me like a wildfire as I rip off the cap. Man did it feel GOOD! The snap of the flimsy metal, the twist of the plastic, and the sweet sweet taste as it hit my mouth! I sigh contently as the second shot cools my throat.

"Helga!" Crap! Phoebe. She's standing with her clan, Gerald already rolling his eyes at the night to come as he plopped Kyo into Phil's old high chair.

"Criminy don't you guys use the front door anymore!"

"Not when no one answers. We've been out there for minutes!"

"I thought you were coming at 7."

"Originally, yes. But by the sound of your voice I got the feeling you needed help."

"Yea, professional help!"

"GERALD!" Phoebs turns to her husband, hands on hips.

"What? Will you LOOK at her? it's not even dinner time and she's knocking back more than the town drunk!"

"Listen Hair Boy!"

"NO! YOU listen girly! I don't care WHO did WHAT with Lila around here-"

"Enough" Phoebe sighed, one hand tossed up, the other going for my new bat-clad friend, "Lets not make another scene." She rips the bottle out of my hand and pours its contents down the drain making sure the tap is on to dilute anything that might get caught in the U trap.

"I'm sure if we all talk calmly we can settle this. So come on, what is this red hair you can't stop screeching about." I sit at the table and tried to light a cig but my best friend deftly trashes it. I want to yell, but the tired look on my friends face tells me she's had too much noise all night. So I sit, tapping my fingers as I try to convince them of my plight.

"Well, apparently, he's not going to be a shrink anymore. Or at least that's what he told little miss red head when he HUGGED her.
Criminy, here I am trying to work and he's up there, sitting, thinking, and doing whatever the fuck he wants and ME, HIS WIFE, gets the grand idea that I should check on him. And what do I see? HIM, a man who has been sober less the six months drinking and hugging some stupid little..I mean...and you know...I work. And I have Phil, and ALL those stupid little animals he HAS to keep for some insane reason I can't figure out and he has the gall to DRINK again. But not just drink. I mean REALLY boose, and bottles and...WHY DOES HE get to have the fun huh? WHY DOES HE get to be the ruined man who can't handle it and I, the one who WANTS to slip under once and awhile have to be the sane one? WHY?" I get up, pacing around the room as I quickly light a link with sanity.

"And you know what else?" I puff, "Arnold does not even ask me. Nope. Just invites along this devil woman like it's nothing. Like we have ALL the food in the world and you know what, I'm done. If he wants to sit there and be all nice to every scarlet slut that happens to walk his way then FINE. HE can do it all he wants, I'M OUT!" Before I can pause myself I burst out into the backyard, find my emergency hootch (Carefully hidden thank you) and hit it HARD! I already have three shots down by the time Phoebe meets me outside.

"You're hiding bottles too!"

"Oh, like HE'S the only guy in the world who can! Criminy you should SEE the places he picked. Right in plain sight. I mean, COME ON football head! You'd think after watching me, he'd learn a few things. But NO it has to be right in my fucking face!" I scarf down another shot, trashing the empty thing across the fence. It breaks, the Pyrex shards going every wear.

"Is that all?" she asks, ducking, "Or is there more this loonacy?"

"More! MORE YOU WANT MORE! I'll SHOW YA MORE!" I dash back into the house and rush up to the stove. I start cooking, sloppily slamming pots onto the burners as I grab the food. My hands are dying to go limp, the booze finally settling in and I have to use all that I've got not to pass out.

"If he wants dinner then FINE! HE'S getting DINNER" The slam of food containers reverberates throughout the room, little Kyo screeching in retaliation. The burner is just as hot as my anger, it's white flames dancing in my eyes. I want to yell, I want to scream, I want to make sure EVERY LITTLE PARTICLE of my husband understands how upset I am.

But then, suddenly, the scene changes around me. I can hear his cries, Kyo's fear penetrating my drunken force-field. Gerald is holding his son close, shielding him from my madness as Phoebe watches me, her more than tired eyes begging to close. The burner flames on, getting blurry by my damp eyes.

"Criminy," I sigh as I slide down the kitchen wall, "What am I doing?"

"Being Helga. It's what you do best."

"Being crazy is more like it. I don't get it honey, each time they fuck up you force us over to save them. WHY! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO CONTINUE THIS! I am SICK of this woman! SICK! And what bothers me most is that you drag Kyo along the way when YOU KNOW he shouldn't hear word one out of her loony-ass mouth. Now can we PLEASE go home!" Phoebe starts to talk back, but I don't hear it, too engulfed in myself. To consumed with my own stupidity. Why should I have to resort to booze every time something happens? Why do I have to act like such a child? Arnold went through a lot and I...I act like my baggage is only thing in front of us. Well..No more! I have to change! I have to do something...different. But what?

"Gerald you have to understand that if we don't help them NOW we'll be helping them LATER when they divorce! And that means ONE of them WILL do something drastic and who will they come too? US! So I know you don't like it, but it's how life IS right now."

"You're right." I sigh. They both turn and look at me. Kyo's settled in his fathers arms unsure of how to react.

"What?"Phoebe asks, just as confused as her son.

"If you keep coming over here to save me then I'll never learn how to save" I hiccup,"Myself." I stand up and turn off the stove and then, shocking everyone, I walk into the next room and introduce my best friends to Clair.