It's Only Life

Chapter Four: Not Falling Apart

"Now, I can't walk,

I can't talk anymore,

Since you walked out the door.

And now I'm stuck living out that night again…

I'm not falling apart…"

-Maroon 5

"Not Falling Apart"


It wasn't the broken espresso machine.

It wasn't the flood in the basement that ruined all the Antigua-Guatemalan beans.

It wasn't even the Decaf, Soy half-Mocha, half-Caramel Latte Extra Hot with No Foam that was made without it's fourth shot of espresso.

It was…Wednesday. And, while a normal Wednesday in every sense of the word, it was still Wednesday.

And Arnold was not yet home.

Helga fumbled around, cleaning the espresso machine after a long shift, but not paying attention to her movements, much to the chagrin of her manager. She tried not be distracted by the fact that Arnold clearly stated that he'd return on Monday, and that he had yet to do so, or inform her of why he stayed. The two shared a single phone call over the course of the weekend. It lasted exactly 23 seconds (Helga stared at her phone until the numbers faded away after he hung up); just long enough for him to tell her that they made it and that reception was bad in the area. Since then, she heard nothing from him.

Customarily, her first reaction would be to get angry. But, seeing as Arnold had almost-sort-of-not-really suggested that the two take a "break" (though, she was aware that this could have been entirely contrived in her grief-stricken mind), Helga figured that he didn't really owe her anything. He could spend the rest of his life out in Ohio if he wanted, and she wouldn't care either way.

The day after he left, she sulked, and Drew and Olga strongly urged her to get out of the house and get active. She didn't explain entirely what happened between herself and Arnold, just that the two had a fight and he left for the weekend. If only they knew…

Either way, Helga volunteered to take an extra shift at work, for the sake of distracting herself. The coffee shop was small, and got little business, but Helga found things to do to occupy her mind. Namely, cleaning mundane things like, memorizing the acidity levelsof the individual roasts and alphabetizing the coffee beans. But, even with her best efforts, her mind continually drifted back to Arnold and his words.

His accusations that she didn't trust him were not entirely unfounded, a fact that she was very aware of. Regardless of how close the two got, Helga could very easily shut Arnold out, or build up a wall when needed. It wasn't so much that she didn't trust him at all; she knew that she had to have relied on him to some degree. But the fact that she, largely, kept her feelings inside was putting strain on their relationship.

"Hey Helga!" her manager called, from the back room. Helga put down her damp rag and made her way behind the counter and toward the kitchen. She heard the shuffling of wrinkled bills and waited until her manager stopped counting money before addressing him.

"Yeah, Chris?" she asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of the black apron that she wore over her work shirt. Fingering the tarnished ring in her pocket, she waited until he turned around to answer her. Her manager was a few years older than her, having recently graduated from college, and thus she felt comfortable around him. Raking a hand through his reddish-blonde hair, Helga sensed the fatigue in his stance.

"You can head on home. Let Toni finish up the espresso machine." he told her.

"Why? I'm almost done…" Helga said, taking her hands out of her pockets and letting them hand limp next to her.

Chris sighed and took a seat in the cramped office. "Helga, you've been off all day. Take it easy; head home early. I'll see you tomorrow." As stern as Chris intended to be, the concern in his voice came through. Helga nodded, turned and deposited her apron, gathered her belongings and clocked out. Walking outside, Helga was glad that the summer evening was still relatively warm. She put on her sweatshirt anyway, and began walking down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction of the bus stop. The walk home would be three times longer than if she took the bus, but she appreciated the time it would give her to think.

Over the weekend, a day or so after Arnold left, Helga phoned Phoebe, who was spending the summer in Kentucky with her parents and distant relatives, and asked her opinion. Like a true friend, she sighed, gasped and laughed at the appropriate places, and offered advice accordingly.


"He doesn't think I trust him…" Helga told her, clutching the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she sat on the floor in her room clipping coupons. She was not sure why the need came over her, but when the newspaper arrived, and she opened it immediately, Helga had the insatiable need to save 55 cents on condensed soup. From there, it snowballed until she had the coupons arranged in order of food/product and how much she would save. She then discovered that she found very interesting ways of filling her time when upset, or without Arnold.

"Well, do you?" Phoebe asked. Even though the two were practically adults, Phoebe held the same pitch to her voice that they did when the two were younger, only now it came with a small twang, mostly from spending so much time with her cousins.

Helga paused, thinking better than to answer too quickly. She knew that she trusted Arnold. She just wasn't sure how to let him know that.

"Yeah…" she replied quietly, setting down a coupon for 30 cents off a can of diced tomatoes in the 'canned goods' pile. "But I told him I couldn't. Crimeny, why did I say that?!"

"Look Helga," Phoebe said, obviously taking a seat from the shuffling that Helga heard from the other end of the phone. "I really believe that you do trust Arnold. And more than trusting Arnold, I think you're afraid. Afraid of what he might do with that trust, or even how he'll react to it. Right now, that fear is overriding that trust."

Helga sighed, running a hand over her face and to the back of her head, having set down the scissors and coupons that she held. "I don't know what to do, Pheebs. I always imagined, on the off chance that I actually wanted to talk to my parents, Arnold would be the person I'd confide in before anyone else. I've managed to do neither of those things, and make myself miserable in the process."

"Maybe you should take Arnold's advice and just try. You haven't got anything to lose." Phoebe said. "And besides, you're stronger than you think."


Helga shook the rain off of her clothes under the bright lights of the diner, scanning the tables for somewhere to sit. The rainstorm came out of nowhere and caught Helga (and her now sopping wet sweatshirt) by surprise. Knowing it was too late for her to turn around and try to catch a bus, she merely ran until she found a place in which she could ride out the storm.

She smiled when she spotted the third table from the back door, and it's lack of occupants. Winding between people exiting the restaurant and a few waitresses, Helga secured her seat, and tapped her fingernails on the yellow table top, thinking of the first time she sat there. Three or so years ago, the restaurant was new, and fashioned after a typical fifties diner. As soon as she and her friends returned from Vermont, Arnold asked her on a 'real' date, and the two of them decided that the small diner was the best place. The night of it's grand opening, they were the last two patrons to leave, having sat at the table for a few hours, at least.

As the memory faded, Helga's smile did the same, hoping that her recent surge of humilty would be enough to get her back in Arnold's good graces. The chipper voice of the waitress distracted Helga from her sad thoughts.

"What can I get you, hon?" she asked, wrinkling her nose when she smiled. Helga smiled back at her and replied.

"Can I have a burger, medium well, fries and a cup of coffee?" she asked, sliding over the menu that she didn't bothered to open. She had the menu memorized, and already knew the total for her meal.

The waitress walked away, promising to bring Helga's coffee out first. Helga thought about what Chris' reaction would be if she told him that she had coffee from some diner, just after leaving the store. 'What?!' he say, dramatically. 'You drank coffee from where? You know their beans are probably robusto too, right? And what are their grinding methods…'

Shaking her head, Helga watched as the rain continued to come down. No chance of her getting home in that weather, unless a bus appeared out of nowhere to sweep her out of the rain and back home.

"Can…I have a seat?"

Helga looked up, ready to remark on the lack of people in the diner, and that this guy could find a seat someplace else, if he wanted.

When her eyes met his, though, all her thoughts left , and the words that were once in her throat left, in their place, a dry, hard lump that she could not dispel.

"Mind if I sit here?" Bob asked, not waiting for a response as he slowly slid into the booth across from his youngest daughter.

'Stupid rainstorm…' Helga thought, as she straightened up in her chair.


Another short chapter. Another cliffy. Sort of. Tee hee. My job (one of them...oh no! I have two jobs! I've become my father! Just kidding, but I really do have two jobs now), is that of a barista, and I know zilcho about coffee. So, while studying roasts and grinding methods, I wrote myself (Toni...no one calls me that except my workmates...I kind of hate it) and my manager (Chris) into the story.

Alright, lovies, real talk. I have had the following chapter of this story done since I wrote it; meaning, if chapter two is posted, chapter three is already finished. In this case, however, I'm stuck. I have a great ending to the next chapter, and I know what needs to happen, but I feel like I'm losing Helga's character in it somehow. The draft that I have written up is...nice, but not my best. Actually, it's not even nice. It's kind of sad, the distaste I have for it at present. So, any...ANY suggestions will be greeted with warm cocoa and a blanket and a seat next to the fireplace. Please and Thank you.

-Pointy_Objects