Author's Note: Thank you again for being you.
And to the guest reviewer Ezza: thank you for your consistent feedback. Aunty Helga is my favorite, too, hahaha. Helga is such a sweetheart underneath it all. I love thinking about how she'd actually act as an aunt and how her maternal side would develop as she gets older. Not that all girls have to be maternal, but you understand what I mean, right? Helga is a super loving person at her core and would probably be beyond awesome with a kid she really cares about. Have a great Labor Day weekend, y'all.
15: Where's My Moral Parallel?
Lila woke to the sound of music spilling in from the stereo in the living room. It was Ave Maria: her daddy's very favorite, mostly because it had always been her mama's very favorite. She lay still for a moment, breathing in between the sheets while the piano-soaked melody swallowed her up. Outside, a light dusting of snow had begun to coat the concrete. She stared out at the lovely snowflakes as they fell, trying to number them before she finally lost count and made her way out of bed and into the hallway.
"Morning, sweetheart," her father greeted her.
"Hi Daddy. No work today?" she asked hopefully.
"Took the day off. They need me for a double shift tomorrow for Christmas Eve."
"And closing early on Christmas Day?"
"Closing early on Christmas Day," he confirmed, smiling.
"Oh, good." She clasped her hands together. "That will do just wonderfully."
"Should we make our cookies this morning?"
"Yes, please. That way we'll have time to let them cool, and we can frost them in the afternoon."
Lila hurried into the kitchen and began to pull the collection of wooden rolling pins and cookie cutters from the cupboard. No sooner had she begun to separate the Santas from the reindeer when the doorbell buzzed, so weakly it was almost inaudible. Her father had been planning on buying new batteries for it this week, but the installments of colored frostings and confetti sprinkles he'd invested in instead had set them back a paycheck.
"The doorbell rang, Daddy!"
"Did it? Hold on, I'll get it."
She continued to sift through the cupboard, extracting a bag of flour, wax paper, sugar.
"Lila, it's your friend here for you."
Lila's stomach twisted guiltily. It must be Arnold, she thought. Nearly two whole months had gone by, and she hadn't yet found the heart to ask him what she wanted to - or to tell him what she knew she needed to. She had tried to see him differently. She really had. But how could she just force herself to conjure up feelings that didn't exist? And now, no words she could come up with in her mind seemed to feel quite right. Arnold, are you really the one who's been writing me all these notes? I appreciate it, but you see, as it turns out, I still don't like you. I mean, I like you… I just don't like you. Is that okay? Can we be friends again? I'm ever so sorry.
She sighed as she laid the measuring cups out on the countertop and made her way to the front door. If only she'd gone with her first instincts rather than listen to Rhonda's dubiously-sourced love advice. She would have been perfectly happy to carry on with her friendships the way they were, and she wouldn't have had to make anything awkward or hurtful in the process.
"Said she didn't want to come inside," her father told her with a slightly perplexed look on his face. "It's cold out there, can't imagine why she's just standing there without even a jacket on."
She? Lila wondered. Had Rhonda or Nadine come to see her unannounced? She moved past her dad towards the open door.
The girl standing on the stoop was indeed wearing only a T-shirt and sweatpants – no coat, no gloves, no hat. Snow had collected all around the top of her blonde ponytail. She was rubbing nervously at her elbow with one hand, the other holding a small box wrapped up in green paper.
"Helga?"
"Hi."
"I…" Lila blinked in confusion. "I'm certain I wasn't expecting to see you."
"Yeah, well. Here I am, Sunshine."
"Where's your coat?"
"Does it look like I need one? I'm literally coated in sweat. I ran here. Coach Tish threatened our lives if we came back from winter break out of shape. Do you have any idea how many suicides she's forced on us in the last two weeks?"
"Suicides?" Lila repeated, horrified.
"Not like suicide suicide. It's when you have to sprint back and forth till you puke."
"Oh. Well, that sounds… nice. Helga – it's very nice to see you, it really is… but why—"
"I didn't come here to have some mushy heart-to-heart, if that's what you're thinking. I just wanted to give you this." Helga stepped forward and thrust the box she was holding abruptly into Lila's hands. "That's to say I'm sorry. Okay?"
"Whatever do you have to be sorry for?"
"What do you mean, whatever do I have to be sorry for?" Helga stared at her with her penetrating blue eyes. "Didn't Arnold tell you?"
"No." Lila shook her head firmly, bewildered.
"Oh." Helga looked down at the ground, rubbing her elbow still harder. "I thought he would have."
"What should he have told me?"
"Well… the thing is that… remember those geckos that kind of attacked you awhile back and gave you rashes and everything?"
"Yes, I do."
"I was the one who… well, I mean, I was involved in setting those freakish little guys loose on you."
Lila's eyes widened.
"And I'm sorry," Helga said hastily. "I'm really sorry. That's why I'm here. I wanted you to know that… that I didn't mean to hurt you. Not that that's an excuse. It's not, I just…"
Lila looked down at the gift in her hands.
"Anyway," Helga mumbled. "I'm gonna go ahead and go."
She turned around and tried to begin stalking off down the front step, hands clenched slightly at her sides. But Lila reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder just in time.
"Why did you do a thing like that?"
"I said I didn't come here for a heart-to-heart," Helga snapped.
"Well, I'm not going to accept your apology, then."
"Fine! Then don't accept my apology. I didn't expect you to anyway."
"You should stay. For just a little bit."
"No. No stinkin way."
"Come in, Helga. My daddy and I are making cookies."
"I hate making cookies."
"I'm certain you'll like these ones." Lila took Helga more firmly by the hand. "They're going to have frosting."
"It was wonderful, Eugene. So wonderful."
Sheena's smile was wide as she leaned forward and threw her arms around him, careful not to touch the rhinestones on the plastic crown in his hand.
They were standing backstage together, listening to the high-pitched sounds of Mariah Carey's Christmas music as they piled clothes into Eugene's bag. The dress rehearsal for The King and the Killer Clown had gone wonderfully, he had to admit. He just hoped the live play would be as good.
It was strange, unexplainable. But in that moment, in that dressing room – empty now, except for the two dork-circle-relegated teenagers – he wondered if, maybe, he was ready.
"I have to tell you something," he blurted out.
Sheena gazed back at him, tucking a strand of her long, long, honey-colored hair behind one ear.
"Okay," she agreed. "Go for it."
"Sheena," he hesitated. "There's a reason why I've never thought about dating you, even though your mom always told us what a nice couple we'd make."
She looked back at him for a moment, but she didn't stop placing the items in his duffel bag.
"Yeah?" she said finally.
"Yeah."
"Go ahead. You can tell me."
Eugene looked at his reflection in the mirror. The makeup Mrs. Persad had insisted on accentuated the green in his eyes. He looked quite handsome with it on, he decided.
"I'm gay," he said finally.
Sheena placed the last of his underwear into his bag and threw her arms around him.
"I've been waiting years for you to tell me that."
"So that's your mom, huh?" Helga was staring at the picture frame on the fireplace mantel, running her fingers gently along its silver trimming. "She looks a lot like you."
"That's what Daddy always says."
"That is what I always say," her daddy echoed beside her. He bent over to give Lila a kiss on the forehead.
"So do you have her picture up here because she's dead?"
Lila blinked. No one had ever asked the question so bluntly before.
"Yes."
Helga nodded, turning her attention away from the fireplace to the peeling paint on the living room walls.
"It's a little bit run down," Lila's father blurted out self-consciously. He was used to having guests like Rhonda, Lila supposed, who couldn't help but make faces when she came inside, even if they were subconscious ones. "We're going to paint it up again soon. Get this whole place cleaned up nice."
Helga rolled her eyes. "You think this place is run down? You're talking to a girl who lived out of her dad's failing beeper warehouse for two years."
"You did?" Lila asked in surprise. "I had no idea."
"Yeah."
"That's ever so interesting."
"Well, it didn't really end up being much more terrible than my life before. You always think stuff like that is going to be more important than it is." She paused, looking thoughtfully at Lila's father. "You seem like a good dad. That's what counts."
He beamed gratefully at the blonde.
"Helga got me a present, Daddy." Thinking quickly, Lila began to delicately peel the green wrapping paper from the box in her hand before Helga could suggest otherwise.
"It's really not that exciting," Helga said hastily.
"You're being oh so silly. I'm sure it's exciting."
Initially, Lila had to take a moment to wrap her mind around what the metal contraption wrapped up in tissue paper even was. It had a tiny wheel covered in what appeared to be dots of Braille, and a hand crank small and delicate enough to twirl with two fingers.
"I know, it's kind of weird, I just thought you might like it. Since it's all girly and stuff like that. I tried to find one that would play the theme song from The Beverly Hillbillies. Thought you might like that, you know, the good ole Clampetts. Remind you of home. Jed, Elly May."
Lila began to spin the hand crank. The opening from The Pink Panther started to play, tumbling out from the little box in high-pitched metallic notes.
"Oh, Helga. You got me a music box?"
"Yeah." Helga suddenly began weaving her fingers in and out. "Like I said, it's not–"
"I'm certain I just love it."
"Oh," Helga replied awkwardly. "Well - Merry Christmas, I guess."
"Come with me for a second," Lila told her, squeezing her hand. "I have something I need to tell you."
"I have something else I need to tell you, Sheena," Eugene mumbled quietly. He threw his bag over his shoulder. The two of them headed out together, out of the warm building and into the late morning, where snow was falling quietly along the streets.
"Something…" he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he lost his nerve. "Something happened to me over the summer. But I didn't tell anybody."
Sheena blinked at him. Staring back at her, Eugene lost track of his footing and accidentally toppled over himself and onto the asphalt below them.
"Eugene!" she screamed.
"I'm okay," he told her faintly, accepting her outstretched hand.
"What happened to you?" she asked then, and he took another deep breath.
"I don't know if I'm ready to say it yet. I needed to take the first step and... and... start."
She looked back at him in confusion before giving his hand a squeeze. "Whenever you're ready, I'm here."
Lila led Helga to her bedroom, where she placed the music box on the windowsill. There was a buzzing silence as the two of them stood there uncomfortably for a moment.
"Helga, you still haven't answered me. Why did you play such a mean trick on me in the first place?"
"The geckos wanted to be free." Helga scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Isn't that answer enough for you? Or am I supposed to write a novel here?"
"No, it's just –"
"I thought so. Are we gonna get to baking those cookies? You said there would be frosting."
"It's just certainly interesting that there are two people out there who seem to have an oh so bewildering interest in making things difficult for Arnold and me right now."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, someone else paid Harold Berman to wreck Arnold's bike, pour his dinner and a compilation of beverages on him, and ruin him altogether with a series of ever so unkind events, and I'm certain that that wasn't you."
"Well, I… wait…" Helga paused suspiciously. "You really think that stuff wasn't done by me? Even after what I told you about the geckos?"
"Of course not." Lila shook her head. "You would never. I know you wouldn't."
For the first time that day, Helga offered her a small smile.
"I… thanks, Lila," she stammered softly, before suddenly exploding. "Wait…. did you say Harold Berman? Harold was the one who did this? When I get my hands on that tub of lard, I swear I… I… I'll make that idiot wish he was never born! I'll get to the bottom of this, you hear me?!"
"Please do." Lila stood there for a few seconds as Helga began pacing furiously back and forth, muttering profanities.
"You still like him, don't you?"
"What?" Helga spluttered. "Don't be ridiculous."
"You can tell me the truth, you know. I'm not going to tell anybody."
"I dumped Arnold's butt for a reason, and nothing you can twist out of your sweet little mind'll change that, Cupcake Sugar Plum."
Lila couldn't help but notice that Helga's face reddened as she said the words.
"Alright," Lila said gently. "But maybe, since you dated him for so long, you can help me."
"I really doubt it."
"Please look at these," Lila said.
She threw all caution to the wind – she reached under her bed, tugged out the shoebox, and dumped the entire collection of letters and poems into Helga's lap. The yellow-haired teenager looked disdainfully at the papers, like they might have been crawling with bugs.
"This is why I kissed Arnold that night," Lila continued. "Because of these. I thought – well, Rhonda thought – Arnold might be writing them to me."
Helga began to sift through the pages, her eyebrow raised.
"Boys like me, a lot," Lila admitted. "But I've never had someone approach me in such an… well, an ever so obsessive way. So when Rhonda decided it must have been Arnold, I felt like I had no choice. I thought I had to change my expectations, and make things more than what they were. To… to try to feel something, if someone really felt so strongly about me."
"Hm. I can see your point. These things reek of desperation."
"Exactly," Lila nodded quickly. "Yes, that's exactly it. How could I not give someone so... so committed... a chance? It would seem just mean, just ever so mean."
"Lila," Helga said quietly. She was holding one of the poems out in front of her with two fingers, her face filled with some combination of disgust and curiosity. "I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you."
"But?"
"But Arnold Shortman did not write these."
"He didn't?" Lila asked eagerly, her stomach suddenly simmering with relief.
"I mean, first of all, the boy can't write for beans. Seriously, if you saw him try to string a meaningful sentence together, you'd understand what I mean. He's got a lot of qualities going for him, but that's not one of them. And even if he could, he definitely wouldn't be inclined to think up something so cheesy," Helga said scornfully. "I mean, something about your shiny hair and perfect eyes, sure, but the untouched purity of your wholesome flower? I don't even wanna know what that means, but it sounds like some sexist bullshit, and Arnold didn't write it, that's for sure. Never mind the fact that this isn't even close to his handwriting."
"Really? So you think this was all an oh so silly misunderstanding, and maybe he doesn't like me after all?" Lila questioned her, unable to mask her hope.
Helga shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't say that."
Lila sighed heavily.
"Maybe you should just ask him." Helga shrugged, trying to look nonchalant as she shoved the papers definitively in Lila's direction. "Just go ahead and do it. I mean, you're Lila. What do you have to lose?"