"It was indigestion," Bob grumbled as the nurse checked him over.
"We still need to check you over, Mr. Pataki," the nurse lectured. "Chest pains, any chest pains, should be taken very seriously."
Helga sat back in a chair, relieved. The phone call from her hysterical mother had terrified Helga. She had gotten home as fast as she could, not saying anything to anyone, and flown in the door. Her mother hadn't even called nine, one, one. Her father was in his favorite chair, grimacing in pain, and too winded to yell at Miriam, who was pacing and wringing her hands sobbing. It was Helga who had sprung into action and called for an ambulance. It was Helga who rode in the ambulance to the hospital with her father. And now it was Helga, waiting the long hours in the uncomfortable chair at the hospital for her father to get checked out.
"A specialist will be in to see you in a minute," the nurse said, frowning.
"For indigestion?" Bob queried.
The nurse said nothing, just shook her head and left the room.
"You feeling better, dad?" Helga asked, getting up and coming over.
"I'm fine," he grumbled. "It's you woman who are doing me in."
Helga rolled her eyes.
"Sure dad, we're out to get you," she said sarcastically.
"That nurse is, and your mother certainly is," he grumbled, glaring at the doorway. Moments later a handsome man came in, all smiles.
"Mr. Pataki, I hear you have some bad indigestion," he said, smiling Helga's way. Butterflies fluttered in her chest and she chose to look at her father. What the heck? This guy would have been at least fifteen years older than her!
"This is a joke," he said. "A bit of indigestion"
"Mr. Pataki, if you walked out that door and died of a heart attack tonight, your daughter could sue the hospital for a lot of money, because we wouldn't have done our job," the doctor told him. "My name is Dr. Jones."
Helga let out a laugh before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth quickly and turned away, still trying not to laugh.
"That is a very common reaction," he told her, smiling. "No need to feel bad."
Bob looked at his daughter, then at the doctor.
"I don't get it."
...
...
"You missed your driving lesson today, didn't you?" Bob asked, as Helga helped him into the house.
"Miriam!" Helga called out. "Yeah, but I can reschedule."
"I'm sorry, girl," he said. Helga looked at him and felt sorry. He used to be so big and intimidating. Now he wasn't even half the man he used to be. Watching him was like watching a balloon slowly deflate. It was heartbreaking.
"Miriam!" Helga called out again, then went looking for her mother. She couldn't find her downstairs, so she went upstairs, a feeling of foreboding building in her stomach. She carefully went to the bathroom door and flung it open.
The bathroom was empty, and Helga couldn't help but release a held in breath. Then she looked in her parents bedroom. Not in there either. Helga frowned then looked at the door that led to her sister's old room. She hadn't been in there since before her sister died, and as far as she knew, neither had her parents. Tentatively she walked over and opened the door and turned on the light.
The room was pristine and clean. Helga walked over to the dressing table and dragged a finger along it. No dust. But surely, after having been locked up for nearly a year, there would be some kind of sign of non-use. Helga saw that there was clean laundry sitting neatly folded on Olga's bed. Waiting for their wearer to come and put them away. Even Olga's makeup was where she had left it, long expired now. But there was no Miriam.
Feeling creeped out, Helga quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her and taking a deep breath. She then checked her own room, but didn't have high hopes.
"Where the devil is she?" Helga asked herself, coming back down the stairs. Entering the kitchen she saw her father sitting there reading a piece of paper. He looked up when she came in.
"She's gone," he told her.
"Gone?" Helga said, coming over and taking the note off him.
Dear Helga,
I'm sorry, but I can't be here anymore. The memories are destroying me. One day, when you become a mother, you'll understand. Until then, try to forgive me.
Mommy.
Helga was shocked for a moment. Miriam had run away? While her husband was in hospital, possibly dying, she had packed her bags and taken off. Helga dashed back upstairs and flung open her parent's closet. Yep. Her side was empty. She pulled open her mothers drawers. Also empty. And turning she saw, sitting on the bedside table, her mother engagement and wedding ring sitting there. Helga walked over and picked them up.
"How could she?" Helga whispered angrily. She let out an angry scream and threw the rings at the wall. Then she fell to the floor and sobbed. Her mother had left them. Abandoned them. When her husband could have been dying, she ran away. When her husband could have been seriously ill, she ran away leaving her sixteen year old daughter to look after him. What happened to the wedding vows they would have taken? For better or worse, in sickness and in health? Di they mean nothing to her?
She felt big arms encircle her, and pull her to their body. She smelt her dad's cologne. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder, like she used to when she was very little and before life got complicated. He stroked her hair. Helga felt like a little girl again.
"She's sick, Helga," he explained. "Sad and sick."
"But she shouldn't just leave," she said. "She just left. What happened to vows?"
She felt tears from her father wet her neck.
"At the end of the day, Helga, they're just words."
...
...
On the morning of Arnold's birthday party, Helga went over early. She was going to help with the setting up. Arnold asked her straight away what was wrong.
"Nothing," she said. "Let's just get this place ready for your guests."
Arnold watched her pull out some cups and plates and put them on the table. Then there were lights to put up, a large stereo to get set up as well. Arnold watched her work, while he worked as well. He knew something was bothering her, but he also knew she wouldn't tell him. She'd been funny the last couple of days. Finally, before guests started arriving he cornered her in his room.
"What's going on, Helga?" he demanded. Helga sighed.
"Can we get your birthday over with, then talk about it?" she begged. "I promise to tell you, but let's get this out of the way first."
Arnold mulled it over a bit. He was really curious. Was it about her father? He knew she had rushed off from school the other day, only to end up in the hospital with him. But it had been nothing but indigestion. Hadn't it?
"Okay," he said finally.
Moments later Gerald and Phoebe arrived. Not long after that other people began to arrive. First Arnold's teammates and their girlfriends - if they had them, but then Rhonda and her entourage arrived. And then some of Gerald's team mates that Arnold got along pretty well with and their girlfriends. Stinky, Sid, Harold and Patty arrived not long after, and it became a full swinging party.
Everyone danced, laughed, sang, ate, and talked and got along. It was fantastic. Some people who ordinarily wouldn't talk to each other, were talking. Half way through Lila arrived on her own. She looked uncomfortable.
The party wound down around one in the morning. Some were picked up by parents, a couple got a taxi, others who lived close by walked.
"I'll be back in the morning to help clean up, man," Gerald told him, clapping him on the back. "Happy Birthday."
"Thanks," The boys did their handshake and Gerald and Phoebe left. Arnold then turned to see Helga flopping down on one of the couches.
"That was exhausting," she said, closing her eyes.
"So are you going to tell me what's going on?" he asked, dropping down next to her.
"Enjoy the buzz, Arnold," she told. "Reality can wait."
...
...
The last of the rubbish was thrown in a bin and Gerald carried it down the stairs. Once clean up was done, Gerald and Phoebe took off for a date.
"So what do you want to do?" Arnold asked Helga, who was folding up a trestle table. He went over to help.
"Miriam took off," she said.
"Took off?" Arnold asked. "Like, just up and left or . . ."
"Up and left, while Bob and I were at the hospital," Helga explained. "Came back, she was gone, her stuff was gone and there was a note. She left. Dad's been trying to find her, but her family hasn't seen or heard from her, and neither has anyone else we know."
"Oh, man, Helga, I'm sorry," Arnold said, giving her a hug.
"It just sucks," she said, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. "Dad and I have to live in that house with the memories as well. But it's like she's the only one who feels any pain. She's so selfish!"
Arnold didn't know what to say so just stood there waiting for Helga to let go. He saw Gerald sneak up and look their way, then sneak over and grab a notebook. Then quietly slip away, not wanting to disturb them.
"It's okay, Helga, I'm here. And Phoebe and Gerald," he told her. "We'll help you get through this."