The Temple Walls
Sometimes, you need to slow down and take a closer look at what you left behind...at what was written on the temple walls.
Co-ordinates: Hillwood: 40°41'34"N, 73°59'25"W; San Lorenzo: 4°55'22"N, 52°19'37"W; Washington DC: 38°53'42"N, 77°02'12"W
I Send My Papers; You Send Your Signature
38°53'42"N, 77°02'12"W
July 21st, 10:00
Helga stepped gingerly into the sweeping foyer of Washington's San Lorenzo consulate. It had been redeveloped extensively since her last visit as a scowling, unimpressed ten-year-old. Washington held the United States' only diplomatic center for relations with the largely unheard of jungle country, and Helga had been pleased to discover it lay only ten minutes from her apartment complex.
Surveying her surroundings, she noted the building was slightly larger now, with a sweeping entrance. Fourteen years ago, visiting both for rigorous passport validation and a short educational session, the fifth-grade class of approximately twenty children had barely any room to move upon being shuffled into the designated waiting area. Helga bit her lip, suppressing a reluctant smile at the flood of memories. Never would she have guessed that their journey into the dense jungle national would prove to be as dangerous, and rewarding, as it truly turned out to be.
"Oh, hello, hiya!"said an enthusiastic voice. Helga blinked and refocused her attention on the present. "Welcome!"
Mildly startled by the fervently warm greeting, Helga struggled for a response. "Hello..."
"Are you here for an appointment?" hurriedly questioned a small, blonde girl behind the reception desk. Her obviously brand-new name tag read Candace. "Oh, of course you are. Okay. I need, just, your name an-and I can search for your file here!"
Helga cautiously moved forward, pausing to be certain Candace was entirely finished speaking. "Helga Pataki." she informed the very young girl, with a nod.
Candace beamed brightly, "Pataki!" she repeated purposefully, hands flying toward her keyboard. "Pataki... Pa-taki... P-a-ta-ki..." she paused, brow furrowed and head shaking slightly. "I-I, well, I don't have anything in the system for Pataki." she sounded apprehensive, and appeared slightly panicked.
Lips pursed, Helga murmured a soft groan and forced herself to say it - the name."Helga Shortman." she managed, barely more than a pathetic whimper.
"I'm sorry," Candace snapped her head up, hands stilled above the keys. "I didn't quite hear?"
"Helga Shortman, try that." she sighed.
Candace slowly tilted her head, face lighting with recognition. "Helga Shortman," she repeated gleefully, "yes, yes, I saw that earlier. Uh.. oh, yes, here it is!" she appeared truly proud, clicking triumphantly upon the name. "Alright, Mrs Shortman-"
"Helga. Just, call me Helga."
Surprised, Candace bit her lip and paused, but slowly nodded in understanding. "Oh, okay then M-... Helga." she acknowledged pleasantly, "I-you, you'll be seeing Ms. Wayman today. Her office is just down that hallway there, the second door on the left."
Helga forced a smile, and a polite "Thank you." trying desperately to shake her increasingly souring mood. It certainly wasn't Candace's fault, nor anybody else's in all honesty, that Helga had been forced here by necessity. However, revisiting the matters she had done her utmost to forget for years, had worn Helga's patience paper-thin. Meandering her way through the well-lit hallway, Helga shortly arrived at an office door slightly ajar, adorned with the simple label Mrs Helen Wayman.
Ms. Wayman, clearly aged well beyond her fifties with graying ringlet curls and a short, plump figure, glanced up as Helga rapped upon the door-frame. Helga smiled politely, and the woman promptly placed her pen down, standing to greet Helga as she moved forward.
"Good morning." she spoke warmly, offering her hand. "I'm Helen Wayman, pleasure to meet you."
Firmly shaking the proffered hand, Helga smiled in return. "Helga Pataki." she introduced herself, "I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice."
"It's no issue, I assure you." Ms. Wayman responded politely. She nodded toward two simple blue chairs, sitting adjacent her location behind the desk. "Do take a seat and make yourself comfortable."
Helga immediately placed herself upon the closest chair, thankful it was more comfortable than it appeared. Ms. Wayman, meanwhile, sifted through an abundance of paperwork in unruly piles scattered across the expanse of her desk. "Let us get directly down to business. San Lorenzo marriage law differs vastly from that of American marriage law." she began promptly, flipping over random files and shaking her head when they were inevitably the wrong one. "In most cases, especially when minors are involved, American law does not acknowledge the union until additional paperwork is completed and signed off in an American court of law."
Sighting a thick document, littered with varied color pages, Ms. Wayman decisively grasped for it and, upon glancing at the first page, seemed satisfied. "In your case, documentation satisfied marriage legality in both San Lorenzo and America." she continued, heaving the document across the table and placing it directly in front of Helga. Helga drew a sharp breath, eyes wandering the old and tattered parchment-style paper sitting atop the large document. Two signatures, small but clearly scrawled by young teenagers, graced opposite corners on the bottom of the page.
"With that in mind," Ms. Wayman pressed on, and Helga tore her eyes away from the fateful scribbles. "Mr. Normandy, your legal advisory, is correct in stating that a divorce must be carried out in order to achieve your current goals."
Helga ran a hand across her forehead, "Criminy." she cursed, "why can't I just apply to legally change my name?"
Ms. Wayman appeared apologetic, and flipped through to the third page of the extensive documentation. "San Lorenzo marriage law, section eight," she instructed, tapping lightly against the relevant section, "stipulates unique tribal law that respects the indigenous people and their deeply seeded union beliefs. By-law two negates the right of a woman married within tribal ceremony to retain her maiden name upon marriage, nor to discard of her married name unless in the case of divorce or spousal death."
"That's ridiculous!" Helga protested immediately, "What abut American law?"
Grimacing, Ms. Wayman shook her head. "Unfortunately, this document..." once more she tapped against the page, "binds you to the laws of San Lorenzo as precedent."
Helga let out a labored breath, "Of course." she noted flatly.
Ms. Wayman thumbed her way forward, through further pages, revealing the very last section. Estimating visually, Helga roughly accounted for somewhere in the range of thirty pages constituting the particular section now on display. She noticed that, unlike previous pages which were one but not the other, this section comprised both English and Spanish translations for each paragraph.
"This is the portion of the document necessary for completion to finalize divorce." Ms. Wayman explained, "This satisfies legal requirements in both San Lorenzo and the United States. Signatures of both parties must be present at each of these black crosses." she motioned toward the black cross displayed on the initial page. "In total, there are eleven places throughout the document in total where you must sign. Once this is achieved, you may then submit."
Despite being overwhelmed by the severity, Helga nodded. "How quickly can you have these sent." she murmured absent-mindedly, flicking slowly through the divorce papers. Unamusingly, the section was printed on startlingly green paper.
"Err, well... uh, Mrs Shortman-"
"Miss Pataki." Helga corrected automatically.
Ms. Wayman cleared her throat and nodded. "Right, my apologies..." she replied, "but do you happen to have any idea, ah, where your husband is?"
Documentation pages fell from her grasp, and Helga stilled. "San Lorenzo." she said levelly, raising an eyebrow.
"Mhmmm..." Ms. Wayman acknowledged uncertainly, "but, where exactly in San Lorenzo?"
Helga swallowed hard, gritting her teeth. "No," she urged, "no, don't tell me..."
"Mrs Sh-Helga, whilst we have no doubt that Mr Shortman is residing in San Lorenzo, preliminary efforts proved unable to trace his location to any specific region." she revealed hesitantly. "Of course, we are very well aware of his close affiliation with the Green Eyed People, however, they prove incredibly illusive to locate more often than not and it is highly unlikely authorities will ever pinpoint their village locations. If anything, their only hope will be times when Mr Shortman ventures out from Green Eyes villages, perhaps to use regional posts for things such as letters or miscellaneous supplies."
Obnoxiously foreign feelings, bitter rage she had put behind her long ago, welled up within her chest. Instinctively, her fists curled against her thigh, "Ah, that little twirp!" she blurted.
Ms. Wayman shifted her position, peering across toward her computer screen for a few brief moments. "San Lorenzo authorities have informed me that they believe correspondence, of any kind, will provide the best possible chance of locating your husband." she eyed Helga carefully. "Say, letters or postcards with stamping?"
"Letters?" Helga bit her lip, shaking her head. "I haven't received a letter from him in at least seven years."
Ms. Wayman mulled over her response, pursing her lips and tapping a finger gently. "Are there any family members he keeps in contact with?" she suggested.
Helga frowned, "No. His family members are with him in that feakin' jungle."
"Friends, perhaps?" she continued.
Uncomfortably, realization slowly dawned upon Helga, "Geraldo..." she muttered lowly. Her lips twitched into a tight grimace, running a hand tensely through her long, blonde hair. "Oh, criminy."
A/N: Nep2uune asked in a review of the last chapter, how it could be possible that Arnold and Helga were allowed to marry so young. I hope this chapter makes it a little clearer that they were married under the laws of another country, and more specifically, tribal laws of an indigenous group. Therefore (in the case of this fic, at least) Green Eyes/San Lorenzo law is vastly different in many ways to American law. And, as explained above the reason her marriage is equally recognized in America is due to thorough ('special circumstances') paperwork. Hope that all makes more sense now!