It's Only Life

Chapter Five: Goodnight, Goodnight

"Her hair was pressed against her face, her eyes were red with anger,
Enraged by things unsaid and empty beds and bad behavior.
Something's gotta change,
It must be rearranged...

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl,
It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of the heavy world.
So goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
Goodnight, hope that things work out all right..."

"Goodnight, Goodnight"

Maroon 5


"It's a free country." Helga managed to finally say, although she was aware that her words held less of a sting than usual. Somehow her powers of sarcasm were no match for the fear she had at the conversation that was soon to come.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, nervously. Maybe she wasn't the only one scared here. Helga noticed that her father's voice was sounding less gruff, and more weathered these days.

"I just ordered." she stated, monotonously.

"Lemme guess…a burger, fries and…a milkshake?" he asked, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Helga resisted the urge to smile, or frown, but allowed the outstretched hand of her waitress to answer for her. She set the coffee cup directly between Helga and Bob, then stood up straight.

"Hi! Can I take your order?" she asked, directing her question at Bob.

"I'll have whatever she ordered." Bob said, still looking at Helga. His stare was making her nervous, and in turn, Helga began tapping her fingers on the table top again.

'What am I supposed to say?' she asked, feeling her brow wrinkling, as her heart thundered in her chest. Talking with her father wasn't supposed to be this hard, because talking with her father was something that Helga never imagined herself doing.

"I hope you're not a vegetarian…" he joked, as their waitress left the table.

"No way." Helga said, shaking her head. "I can't stand that tofu stuff…" she finished, surprised at the cracking in her voice. She willed herself to breathe evenly and began drumming her fingernails on the tabletop.

"You know your mother tried to 'go veg', or whatever. Only lasted a week." Helga offered a tiny smile, barely turning up the corners of her mouth and realized that she wanted to hear more about her parents. She had the feeling, however that Bob wouldn't be too thrilled about her line of questioning, or the inquiries she planned on making. "Since when do you drink coffee?" Bob asked, tapping on Helga's beige-colored mug.

"I work at a coffee shop…" she said, simply. She silently wished that she could contribute more to the conversation.

Bob ran a hand over his face and leaned back from the table. "Man, I'm getting old…" he said.

"Yeah, you are." Helga answered, with a straight face. "I mean, what are you, now…54?" she asked, allowing a tiny smile to grace her face, just so Bob would know that there was no malice in her statement.

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. "Older, actually." Bracing himself against the table, he continued. "It was unreal; finding out that guy at the park was Olga's husband. Talk about a shock…"

Helga quirked an eyebrow toward the sky. "You had to have known Olga was going to get married someday. She certainly got close enough with that Doug guy…" Helga stated. She was growing more and more comfortable with talking to Bob, even though they were miles away from having anything resembling a typical "heart to heart".

"Yeah, but that…that put things into perspective. Reminded me just exactly what your mother and I missed out on."

"You missed a lot." Helga said, staring out the window, sadly. She felt the heat rise up in her face and a familiar anger begin to cloud her vision. She didn't want Bob to sentimental and emotional. "I know I already said it, but you picked a really crappy time to come back. I mean, it's the summer before I start school and a month after Olga gets married. Did you plan this or something?"

"Of course we didn't. We had no way of knowing."

"Yes, you did. All you had to do was come by every once and a while. Check a local newspaper for graduation or wedding announcements. If nothing else, you could have used one of those sketchy, online "Find A Relative" search engines. There's no excuse for eight years of not being in contact with your kids. None." Helga said, crossing and uncrossing her arms. "I can't believe you thought that this would be easy." she said, muttering the word as if the possibility of it alone was laughable.

"I knew it wouldn't be easy, I just didn't think it'd be this hard." he said, running a hand over his head and thinning grey hair.

"Well, life's full of little disappointments, isn't it, Bob?" she asked, turning away to stare out of the window. The rain had yet to let up a little, but she hoped that it would by the time her food came and she was ready to leave. There was no telling what would transpire between herself and her estranged father if she chose to stay. "Did you miss us? Me and Olga?" she asked, quietly. She told herself that she didn't care and in her mind, the question came out as callous and uncaring, but when she spoke them, her voice was so timid, that she felt almost scared at his response.

"Your mother and I…we thought about you girls everyday…every hour. We were lost, we didn't know what to do.

"Everyday was a struggle; knowing the two of you were having to raise yourselves. It tore us up inside. We thought about coming back over and over. We just didn't imagine that we'd come back to two grown women, who didn't need us."

"That doesn't mean we didn't want you around." Helga said, rubbing at her dry face, even though her eyes were brimming with tears. "I mean, yeah, when you guys were around you were always forgetting stuff, and being annoying and getting my name wrong, but you were around. It wasn't so bad having you around."

Bob stared at his younger daughter, somewhat in awe. There was a time when getting any sort of response out his daughter was either impossible, or cost him 150 dollars and an afternoon at some ridiculous musical. He was elated that she was opening up to him, even if just a little, but saddened that it was his fault.

"I know it'd be…too much to ask, your forgiveness, probably impossible, but-"

"It's not." Helga said, wiping at her eye and effectively dampening the left side of her face. "I mean, it's not impossible. It's not likely, at least not for a good, long time, but, you kind of…I mean, I already….I don't mind…you know." she said, sniffling between her words. Leaning to one side, Helga dove her hand into her pants pocket and pulled out a ring. It was far too small to fit even her pinky finger, and when she held it up, the pink, green and dark blue stones reflected light over the table. The band was once gold-plated, but after years of wear and tear, it was more of a patchy light brown, with darker spots. Instead of saying anything she slid the ring across the table, leaving it an equal distance from herself and her father.

Bob took the ring from the table, and held it in his massive hand. Turning it over, he stared, and slowly smiled. "Wow…" he gasped. "You kept this?"

Helga nodded, and reached for it. "You meant to give it to Olga, for her birthday, right? She was turning 18, I think. It was too small for her, so you came up to my room-remember? I didn't want to go to her party- and tossed it on my bed, and said, 'Here Olga. That's for you.'"

"I did that a lot, didn't I? Calling you 'Olga'?" he asked, nodding.

"A lot more than you realize. But, for some reason, I didn't care. It was like a real present, even if it wasn't meant for me. So, when I got to go back home, and collect all my stuff, I decided to keep it. I still don't know why." Helga said, turning it over and over before replacing it in her pocket. "Bob, you and I were never close. And, maybe we won't ever be, even if you and Miriam were staying-"

"How'd you know we-" he said, interrupting her, but Helga held up a hand to stop him.

"I just did. Don't worry about it." she said, sadly. "But, regardless, maybe we can…I don't know, work something out." she finished sounding more assured than she had for the entirety of the night. "Now, if you don't mind, I really need some meat and potatoes to take the edge off all this mushy stuff." she said, managing to smile a little.

"I hear you there. Where's that waitress, anyway?" he asked, and the two fell into silence again, only this one was far more comfortable than the last.

"So…speaking of rings…you're not thinking about…getting married or anything, right?" he asked, making his mouth a stern, straight line. Helga wrinkled her brow at the question, wondering where it acme from and also whether or not her father was slipping into senility before her eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, she lifted the ring and asked, "See this ring?" When he nodded, she continued. "This is the only one I have. Plus, I'm eighteen…and broke. Certainly in no position to be married." Helga said.

Bob drummed his fingers on the table and smiled. "Let's just hope that boyfriend of yours doesn't try giving you any rings, anytime soon." he said, half-jokingly, half-warningly. Helga rolled her eyes.; she was aware that Bob was just happy to be in her presence without the threat of being left, or having something thrown at him, but she also knew that this mood, this brief feeling of elation and recovery wouldn't last forever. She knew, before he said it, that he and Miriam's stay wasn't permanent.

"Speaking of which," he began, nervously tearing his napkin into small squares, and staring at the table. "I heard you have a…a boyfriend." he said. Helga almost laughed at the squeamish way in which he spoke the word.

Slumping in her booth, Helga raised her eyebrows and chuckled to herself. "Actually…not so much these days. It's kind of…complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Bob asked, clearly apprehensive about her answer. "Did he…did he do something?"

'Is this what it's like to have a Dad again?' Helga asked herself, taking a chance to sigh, annoyed. 'I think I liked him better when he was calling me 'Olga'…'

"No, he didn't do anything." Helga began, getting back into the rhythm of talking to her father. As a child, she could never come out and tell him anything. He wasn't one to readily understand her, and he rarely, if ever, bothered to listen. Being in the presence of a Bob that actually listened, while still taking time to assume the worst, was different for Helga. "Apparently…I have a problem trusting people. So…yeah." she said, not wanting to go into any details. Far from a 'heart to heart', the conversation with Bob was already making her feel like an emotional schmuck, regardless of the necessity of it, and she didn't want to make it worse by divulging to much of herself at once.

As if by some miracle, their dark-haired waitress returned, balancing two identical plates of food. Helga welcomed the distraction; the conversation was getting far too personal for her liking and she wasn't ready to think about Arnold more than she already was.


"What does…what do you guys do for money?" Helga asked apprehensively. It was never something she thought she would ever have to ask her parents upon meeting them. At the same time, she never thought she'd ever meet her parents again. The night was shaping up to be an interesting one, if nothing else.

"Your mother works as a nurse at one of those…umm, what do you call 'em? Convalescent homes…like for old people." he said, explaining. Helga rolled her eyes at his jargon.

"I know what convalescent means, Bob." Helga said, a bit harsher than she intended. She tried to soften the blow, but she noticed the hurt on his face. "What about you?"

Bob looked around nervously, looking almost embarrassed. Helga waited a few more seconds before he replied. "I'm a construction worker, so I do a little bit of everything; masonry, scaffolding, installing drywall, that kind of thing."

"So, why do you look so embarrassed? Lots of people are construction workers." Helga noted. She received no reply, just a shake of the head from Bob and the sight of him moving a few cold fries around on his plate. Helga surmised that, like her, he wasn't ready to divulge everything to her, and maybe never would. She found herself oddly pleased with that line of reasoning, and stared out of the window. The storm passed, for the most part, a few sprinkles still coming down, but far more welcome than the deluge that started barely an hour ago.

Resting a ten dollar underneath the napkin dispenser, Helga began her departure, an event that she expected to be longer than she wanted and far more awkward. Standing up slowly, she braced herself for the uncomfortable goodbye that was to follow.

"Well, um. I think I'm going to head out. Since it's not raining or anything." she said, clutching the strap of her bag tightly.

"Are you sure you don't want a…ride, or something?" Bob asked, poised to stand, until Helga held out her hand to stop him.

"Um, to be perfectly honest, I'm somewhat glad that I no longer have a searing hatred for you, at least for the time being, but I really don't think it would be wise to push our luck. Don't you agree?" she asked, although her statement required no real answer.

"Agreed." Bob said, smiling at the wit only his youngest daughter could get away with. He watched her shrug again, and mumble something resembling, 'See you around', before exiting the small diner and walking out into the rain. As she lifted the hood of her jacket over her head, Bob kept an eye on her until the bus pulled up a few seconds later and her silhouetted form climbed upon the vehicle and disappeared.

It took him a solid four minutes to look up from his hands; fingers laced within around each other, and blink away the tears that were blurring his vision. Across from him, atop a clean, white napkin sat the tarnished ring that he once carelessly threw at his daughter. Instead of a pang of guilt or even remorse, Bob found himself smiling as he reached across and took it into his hand. His first real gift to her, was her first gift to him.

If nothing else, he felt hope. Refreshing, seemingly blind, remarkable hope.


Helga did not announce her arrival to her home; it was something she never saw the point of. Even when she tried to sneak in, Drew and Olga both seemed to know when she was home, and never looked surprised, even when they were. She wasn't sure why she expected them to be, but a little variety never hurt anyone. Instead, she entered the house, shed her wet and muddy shoes at the door and walked into the living room, only to find Drew and Olga watching something on TV; Olga's legs propped up on Drew's lap.

"Hi." she said, expecting some kind of interrogation. She knew from experience that Olga and Drew 9as a team) were more lethal when they didn't start shouting right away.

"Hi, Helga." Olga said, barely tearing her eyes away from the television. "How was work?"

Helga shifted her sock-clad feet around on the carpeting beneath her. In her mind, she screamed, 'I just had a long, slightly awkward conversation with our biological father; ask me how that was!'

"It was fine." she answered, lying. "Chris let me off early."

"Really?"

"Yeah, like…two hours ago." Helga said, deadpanning.

"That was nice of him…" Olga said, reaching for the bag of potato chips near Drew's left leg.

Helga was getting fed up. She'd just spoken to her father, the same father that she vowed to hate until the end of time, and needed to tell someone. She needed to ask someone how she was supposed to feel, and the two people closest to her couldn't seem to realize her concern.

"Excuse me, but I am two hours late coming home form work. As my legal guardians, I would think that you'd care about where I was for two hours." Helga said, rounding the couch and staring at them. In response, she received two pairs of eyes that were desperately hiding the smiles of their owners.

"We know where you were, Helga." Drew finally said.

"Your manager, Chris called. He told us that he let you off early, becaus you seemed upset and thought something might be wrong. But, when he was driving home form work, he saw you at a diner with an 'older looking gentleman' and thought that we should be informed of your whereaboutse ." Olga said, smiling.

Helga blinked at her sister and brother-in-law, keeping her hands at her hips, and internally questioning why every awkward moment seemed to be happening to her, as of late.

"Oh…well, goodnight, then." she said, standing up straight, and abandoning the living room for the hallway. Olga's voice stopped her before she could disappear from their sight.

"I'm very proud of you, Helga." Olga said, sounding entirely sincere, despite the volume of her voice. Helga rolled her eyes and responded with a mumbled, "Yeah, yeah…", before Drew could speak.

"I'm proud of you, too, Baby Sister." he chimed in, loudly. Helga raised an eyebrow at his addition, to which he only beamed more so, knowing that Helga loved him far too much to be offended by the silly, worn out nickname.

"Goodnight." she said, finalizing the conversation, and making her way down the hall. She smiled to herself, several minutes later as she climbed into bed, somewhat please with herself.

'The hardest part is over…' she thought before falling asleep.

"So much to love,
So much to learn.
But I won't be there to teach you.
I know I can't be close,
But I'll try my best to reach you...

"I'm so sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl,
It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of a heavy world.
So goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
Goodnight, hope that things work out all right..."


That's right, Helga. The hardest part is over. For me, anyway. This chapter was hard, because I had to get Bob and Helga just right. The Helga before was too forgiving, too quickly and Bob was just boring. I hope this is a little better. And I know I've used about four million Maroon 5 songs, but that one is just too perfect for this story. Forgive me.

Jae B has a Danny Phantom fic that I kind of want to check out, even though I know little about the show, and then, I'm going to fetch my comforter out of the dryer (or I might fetch my comforter out of the dryer now, and then snuggle up and read his fic, so then I can be warm and toasty while I read), and then I'm off to bed. A wonderful night to all!

-Pointy_Objects

P.S. Aww man. My dryer has a little timer on it that tells you how long until your clothes are done, and I still have 26 minutes. No warm-snuggle-reading time for me…Anyway, goodnight, friends.