In town, wanna catch up? - Torvald
Arnold frowned at the text on Helga's phone. He should delete it, and was about to, but then thought better of it. What if it was brought up to her? Or she saw it had been deleted.
"You have a text from Torvald!" he called out instead. He looked up as his girlfriend came walking into her room in her bra and panties, tying up her hair, hair-tie in her mouth. She took it out and tied it in her hair.
"Oh yeah? What did he say?" she asked casually, dropping down onto the bed with him. "God, it's so hot!"
"He's in town, wanted to know if you want to catch up," Arnold told her, handing her her phone.
"I suppose," she said. "I still have to pack some stuff and we leave after tomorrow."
Bob had agreed to let Helga go camping with Arnold, but only because he was going to be there to chaprone.
Arnold watched her text Torvald back, then throw the phone on the bed beside Arnold. It went off again.
Instead of answering it, Helga climbed onto the bed in front of him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"You. Are. Wonderful," she whispered. "I love you."
A warm, tickley feeling filled Arnold's entire torso. He would be happy even if he died now. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, moving his hands up her back, feeling her shiver and noticing goosebumps appear on her skin.
"I love you," he told her truthfully. "Are you going to get that?"
"He can wait," she said. "I gotta get dressed!"
...
...
Torvald laughed and laughed.
"What?" Helga asked, mildly offended. "It's true."
"You are going camping? Outside? Like, in the woods and shit?" he asked again, in disbelief.
Arnold thought back to that one time, many, many moons ago, when he and Helga were doing a science project together and they had spent the night in the glasshouse in Arnold's backyard. He remembered the ridiculous blow up bed she had brought, and snacks, and magazines, and he started to worry a little bit. Or that time her family showed up in a big RV . . . he was suddenly having second thoughts. Could Helga survive sleeping in a simple sleeping bag, on the ground, in the woods in a tent?
Also, how could he have missed how girly she was, even then?
"It's true!" Helga protested.
"Uh, huh," he said, smiling looking at Arnold. "You'll take pictures right?"
"Yeah, sure," Arnold said. He felt a bit uncomfortable watching his girlfriend get along so well with her ex. That she'd once had sex with. Why did that still bug him?
"I'll show you," she said, standing up in a huff. She stormed over to the counter and made an order, leaving Arnold and Torvald alone. Torvald spoke first.
"Helga's a great girl, huh?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.
"Yeah, she is," Arnold answered, looking over to where his girlfriend was.
"Well, I'm here when you stuff up," he said. Arnold snapped his head around to stare at Torvald.
"What?"
"You heard me," he said. "As soon as you stuff up, you know where she's going to go. To me. And I wont let her go next time."
Arnold blinked a few times, wondering if maybe he was hearing things.
"Are . . . you threatening me or something?" he asked.
"Nope, just telling you like it is," Torvald said, smirking at him. "I love that girl. And I won't let you or anyone else get away with hurting her."
They both stared each other down for a moment, before the tension was broken with Helga's reappearance.
"I wish they'd just pour some of this chocolate syrup into the cup and just give me a spoon," she said, dipping her spoon in the scoop up the ice cream that had the chocolate on it. Then she seemed to notice the tension in the air. "What did I miss?"
...
...
Arnold was hitting the punching bag as hard as he could. He'd taped a picture from one of the old yearbooks of Torvald's face. Who did that guy think he was? He'd already been dating Helga longer than what Torvald had. And yet the guy still acted like Helga was his, or something. Man, it pissed him off.
"Shortman, what are you doing down here?" his grandpa asked. Usually Arnold tried to avoid his grandpa these days. Advice was fine when he was a kid. But he wasn't a kid anymore.
"Punching," he said, then went back to it.
"I can see that," Phil said, coming over to stand behind Arnold. "Someone in particular form the looks of it."
"Grandpa, can you just leave me to it?" he asked.
"Look Shortman, I stay out of your business a majority of the time. I understand. Your getting older and your too cool for your old gramps," Phil said. "But you have some guys picture taped to a punching bag and your hitting it. That worries me a little bit."
"He's my girlfriends ex-boyfriend, and he basically told me today that he still loves her, and is hoping I stuff up so she will go running back to him!" Arnold explained. "He decided they should break up when he went away to college, not her. Who the hell does he think he is!?"
With one final punch the bag detached from the chain and fell to the floor.
Phil watched his grandson warily. Arnold has been such a passive little thing growing up. But once puberty hit he changed. He'd be moody, and became less interested in spending time with, and taking advice from him. It had hurt, but Phil understood. It was the hormones. The testosterone. Why, when he was Arnold's age, he was getting ready to go off to war! Boys these days didn't have that, thankfully. Well, not all boys anyway.
And he didn't have a story for this. He was the Torvald in his and Gertie's story. He came back from the war, and Gertie had met someone else. He'd stolen her love away from this other man and back to him and they had run off together and eloped. Her family had been so angry at the time they had disowned her. But Hillwood was a small town back then. And even though her father never forgave her, her mother did.
"What? No stories from your youth?" Arnold asked sarcastically. It hurt to hear his grandson talk to him like that, and he frowned. "Sorry Grandpa. I'm just . . . I'm mad."
"There is, Arnold, but you wouldn't like it," Phil admitted. "But that doesn't mean the same thing here. She loved you first, Arnold."
Arnold looked away. Yeah, she had. She'd admitted it, and what had he done? Ignored it. Then used that knowledge to manipulate her every now and then. He started feeling ashamed of himself when he thought back on that. Then there was Annie. He had liked her, because she was simple. Or so he had thought. But still, there was something weird and twisted going on between Helga and him back then. She hadn't deserved to get caught up in it. He often wondered if she knew or felt it, and how she felt. She never said anything if she did. Maybe he should apologize to her one day. Then he made a face. No. Too much time had passed. It would seem a silly thing to do now.
"You better finish packing," his grandfather tells him. "We leave tomorrow."
...
...
Helga sat pouting on the ground, while Arnold put the tent together laughing.
"You can hit further and run faster than most guys I know, but you can't put up a tent," he said.
"Oh, shut up and build me shelter, man-creature," she said. Arnold laughed.
It was one week, but to Helga it felt like forever. No TV, just a radio that her father insisted stay on a channel that constantly reported about the weather and news, she was laying on the ground in a tent on her own . . . They swam, fished, cooked and had a great time. Helga was also really happy to see her father unwind a bit.
All that changed when they got home though. Moments after walking in the door the phone went. Helga continued up the stairs while her father answered the phone. She dumped her stuff on her bedroom floor and flopped down on her bed. Oh, it felt so soft and comfy after a week on the hard ground! She looked up when her father knocked on her bedroom door.
"Come in, Dad," she called, not bothering to sit up.
"That was the hospital your mom's been staying at," he said quietly. Helga did sit up then and looked at him. She could already see the tension returning to him.
"And?" she asked.
"And she's coming home."