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
Move It, Tall Hair Boy
40°41'34"N, 73°59'25"W
August 19th, 09:15
Helga wrenched her eyes open as a small stream of glowing sunlight filtered through the old, worn curtains of her childhood bedroom. She uttered a mumbled grunt-like noise as she painfully extended her fingers, her almost entirely numb hands throbbing as she did so. Helga flexed her fingers, which had spent the night clutched tightly around her golden locket, until the blood-flow eventually returned. She shifted against the covers, eyes locked upon the photograph within the heart-shaped frame that glinted in the early morning light. It took a few extra moments of deliberation before she could successfully avert her gaze and make the conscious decision to place the locket elsewhere - face down. Everything from her shoulders, to her legs, ached from sleeping halfway off the small mattress and she groaned as she pulled herself upright. One quick step forward, and the locket slid onto the dresser top, as Helga peered out the window and into the sunrise.
She shifted slightly, stretching the tight muscles in her legs and rolling her tense shoulders before grasping for her large handbag and resolving to find the nearest source of decent coffee. It was far too early for either of her parents to be awake, especially since Bob was presently 'retired' and so Helga took the opportunity to slip from the house without having to interact with them any further. Without consciously considering it, Helga blindly reached for the locket upon the dresser and dropped it into the corner pocket of her handbag, before rushing down the stairwell and down onto the streets of Hillwood.
Outside, the sunshine was already casting a pleasant warmth over the city and the birds of nearby Tina Park were whistling happily. Helga walked in the direction of the northern entrance gate, certain to find a cafe or vendor providing coffee somewhere nearby the large urban park. Tina Park had evidently undergone a face-lift, or two, during the seven years in which Helga had been away, and adjacent the northern gates was now a small collection of stores. On the very far left of the shops was a small cafe, decorated with blue stripes and seemingly buzzing with people despite the early hour. Helga concluded it was likely the best option in town, for Hillwood had never played host to many decent coffee spots, and she headed inside.
Helga found the outlay of the store simple, in that friendly-Hillwood-locals sort of way, and far more relaxed in atmosphere to the bustling coffee shops of Washington. It was perhaps half full within the shop and the sounds of patrons' discussions rippled throughout. Ahead of her, two people that appeared to be colleagues finished placing their order and strolled off to sit at a corner table. Helga was greeted by the middle aged woman behind the counter, with a friendly smile and a curious glance.
"Mornin', lass." the woman spoke. Helga found the heavy accent reminded her strongly of the Campfire Lass girls. "What can I get for ye?"
Helga reached lazily into her handbag. "Latte, thanks." she ordered absent-mindedly, handing over a note, "Largest you've got."
"A'right," the woman nodded, efficiently collecting and handing across her change, "take a seat, lass, yer look tired."
Ordinarily, she might have had something to say to anybody daring to comment upon her appearance so frankly, but Helga felt as tired as she evidently looked. She moved, not far from the counter, toward a small table and set down her handbag with a thump. One passing glance at her cell phone revealed, as expected, a multitude of missed calls and unnecessarily panicky text messages from her assistants. Helga let out a short, disparaging nose and slipped the device back into her bag, leaving their pleas unanswered for now but resolving to respond sometime later that day.
"Tall flat white," sounded an incredibly familiar deep voice, "thanks Anna, two sugars."
Helga instinctively groaned and shifted within her seat, fully intending to face the opposite direction and avoid his eyes. It proved useless the moment he turned from the counter, searching for somewhere to sit, as he spotted her almost immediately. His reaction was as unfriendly as expected.
"What the hell is going on, Pataki?" he demanded, approaching her table with determined strides.
Helga scowled, "I'm ordering my daily dose of caffeine, Geraldo."
Gerald looked remarkably irritated, perhaps even more so he had the prior month, when Helga arrived at his front door. "No, I mean, what the fuck are you doing in Hillwood again?" he demanded, "You never come home, especially not twice in two months - what the hell are you up to?"
"How often I choose to visit my hometown is none of your business." she snapped.
"I'm making it my business." he stated forcefully.
Helga summoned her restraint, refraining from shoving a fist in his face and giving him a taste of nostalgia. "It has nothing to do with you." she snarled.
"Maybe not," he conceded, although his expression held and his tone remained bitter, "but I'm almost certain it has a lot to do with my best friend - and since he's not around to represent himself, I'm taking a keen interest."
Incredibly frustrated to be headed toward yet another repetitive argument, Helga switched tracks and questioned his motives for a change. "I would think, out of all people, you'd be happy to have me out of Arnold's life."
"What?" Gerald effectively shouted, garnering him a few curious looks from surrounding customers. He appeared genuinely appalled by her remark, "Why the hell would that make me happy?"
Helga kept her voice low, hardly wishing to create a scene. "Because you hated me," she spoke in past-tense, but it was still just as relevant to the present, "and you hated me with Arnold."
Surprisingly, Gerald shook his head. "No, Helga," he said seriously, "I never I never hated you with Arnold – actually, if there was ever anyone who believed it would work out between the two of you, it was me!" he stepped closer, "You know why?"
"Uh, no, Mr Johanssen," Helga scoffed sarcastically, "I honestly don't have a freakin' clue!"
"Helga, you and Arnold, you had something special-" when she scoffed again, Gerald shot her a dirty look, "and you of all people actually made me proud back then, you know that? Because if nothing else, you were dedicated to him like he was your world. And he... he loved you more than anything."
Ex-Campfire Lass, or whomever she was, placed a tall Latte upon the table and cast a curious glance between the pair. Helga gripped the takeaway cup immediately, as the middle aged lady swept back behind the counter. "I guess things change" she said simply, slowly rising from her seat.
"Bullshit." Gerald responded swiftly, although he stepped backward and allowed her ample space to leave.
Helga side-stepped him and headed for the exit. "No-" she began to argue, but was interrupted.
"Bull. Shit." he repeated firmly. His own coffee had been placed upon the counter, with a small smile from the lady whom he had referred to as Anna. Gerald moved to collect his order, but paused, and looked back at Helga. "Oh, and by the way, Pataki, Phoebe's pregnant..." he took the cup into his hands, "but you didn't notice that when you came by, did you?"
Helga stood, surprised, and rooted to her spot. She opened her mouth to respond, but Gerald was already moving past her.
"No, you didn't," he continued on, "because all you can think about is yourself."
Gerald Johanssen stormed from the small cafe, with a none-too-gentle swing of the entry door and disappeared into a car parked across the street. Helga watched in silence, until his red sedan disappeared around the corner.