Los Angeles, May 2016
The alarm clock rang she pulled herself out of bed with all the willpower she could gather. If she didn't leave the bed now, she'll never get up. It had been becoming a habit. So she threw the covers away. It was another sunny morning and Rhonda absolutely detested it. Why did she think coming here was such a good idea?
Because to her core, she was still an optimistic fool.
She headed to the kitchen for her morning tea. She passed by the living room and saw what was waiting for her. Her answering machine had been blinking which meant there were new messages. She had gotten some every day. At first, she listened to them but now that it had been a week and they were all pretty much useless and had a tone of pity, she deleted them.
I'm going wherever you are. Call me back–
Delete.
I just heard the news, babe. I'm here for you. Are you ok–
Delete.
He was an asshole anyway. If he wa–
Delete.
Rhonda, we're worried about you. Sweetie, give us a call, please. Your mother has been livid and…
She listened to her father's worried voice with closed eyes and hands gripping her green tea mug tightly. Everybody meant well but they didn't understand that she just wanted to be left alone. The one person who she wants to hear from was the one who didn't call. But what did she expect? A magic wand to wave away all her problems? This wasn't like last time when things could be so easily forgiven.
Rhonda finished her green tea, dumped the teabag into the garbage bin, and placed her mug in the sink. She was still thirsty so she poured herself a glass of orange juice. Liquids were the only things she can keep down these days. Grabbing her flip flops and her book, she stepped out into the veranda.
…
Sparkling golden hair whipped in the wind under the harsh California sun. The thirty-year-old golden girl cruised down the CA-1 N at breakneck speed. Oversized sunglasses protected her eyes from the afternoon glare. She felt wild and free with one hand on the steering wheel. It's been a hot drive from LAX even in her white cotton tank top and denim shorts but she still didn't pull up the convertible's roof. Her sneakered foot pressed harder on the pedal.
The blonde slowed when she reached Escondido and down the winding roads past stately mansions of new money. Brian, she named the GPS system after Brainy, told her to keep driving for 700 feet more before turning left. She did just that and whistled at what laid ahead of her. She parked the car in front of the huge house with an entrance hidden from view. Her long bronze legs could finally stretch after forty minutes of driving. Her tank top had stuck to her back.
This blasted heat. Where's the entrance?
Blondie cocked her head and then smiled. She walked behind a high, trimmed hedge that surrounded the property and found a white gate. There was an intercom and a doorbell next to it. She let her finger do the talking.
…
Focus on yourself now that you're out of the bonds that tied you. You were held back by the old ball and chain. There were probably many things you wished to–
BZZZ!
Who could that be?
Rhonda shrugged, in no mood to see anyone, getting back to her book. Probably just the delivery man. If there's a package for her he could just leave it by the gate.
BZZZ!
She jumped and almost dropped her book. If the FedEx guy could go away so she could read her book, that'll be great
BZZZ!
BZZZ!
BZZZ!
Rhonda growled in frustration and threw her book down. She slipped on her flip flops and hopped off her soft seat. There was so much anger in her steps that her slippers slapped against the stones with loud thwack!s as she marched to her gate. Upon pressing the electronic lock and grabbing the handle, she flung the door open.
…
"What do you want?" Rhonda yelled then stalled when she saw who it was.
"You look like absolute shit."
Rhonda peered at her with shock for a moment before icily replying, "Gee, thanks."
Helga slipped off her sunglasses and stared at her friend. This was not the pristine, always-ready Rhonda Lloyd she grew up with. There were bags under her eyes and her hair was a mess, in a careless bun atop her head held by a ratty, bright pink elastic. Her face was hollower than when Helga last saw her, it made her high cheekbones pop out. And her once glowing skin was now pallid. She was wearing a baggy grey sweater which slid down her bony left shoulder and white pyjama bottoms with tiny pink teddy bears on them. The garment only highlighted how much weight she'd lost. The divorcee didn't look happy about the intrusion but she let Helga in, moving aside so she can enter the property.
The gate might have been narrow but the place was huge. Near the entrance, there was a glimmering pool with dark blue tiles that gave the illusion of depth. Just behind it stood a gorgeous Moroccan style house with heavy white pillars and broad, open arches. The windows were large, designed with the concept of letting the outside in. Helga could see through the glass into a lavish living room. There was a wide flatscreen tv and a state-of-the-art sound system inside.
To their right, stood a modern gazebo made of glass and steel and furnished with detailed rugs of varying colours, throw pillows, bean bags, and a long white sofa. It overlooked the beach. There was a book on a wicker table and a glass of what appeared to be orange juice. The beauty and groomed nature of the place emphasised the stark contrast to its unkempt owner. Rhonda followed the stone path that led to the gazebo and Helga walked behind.
They stood around awkwardly. Then Rhonda took a seat on the sofa. Helga watched the children making sandcastles down below before sitting beside her. One of them giggled and it echoed up above.
"Nice place," she commented, looking around.
"I'm glad you're impressed."
"Just by your cash and choice of a decorator."
At that, Rhonda picked up her unfinished drink.
"I decorated it, " she said.
"No shit."
"Shit."
Helga smiled. There was hope for her friend after all.
Helga leaned back, crossing her arms. "So, how've you been?"
Rhonda shot her a look that said really?
Helga shook her head. "Sorry, stupid question."
The dark-haired girl cut to the chase. "What are you doing here, Helga?"
"In Malibu? Living the Barbie lifestyle, don't I look the part?" she said, pointing out her outfit and blonde hair. "I want you to be my Teresa. She's the brunette, right?"
Rhonda gave her a dark glare.
"Okay, fine. The people have spoken, by people I meant Arnold, that I should pay you a visit. And by visit, I meant stay here for a month on an all-expense-paid vacation. And by all-expense-paid, I meant it will be paid by you. Cause you're a billionaire."
"Not anymore."
"You're still paying," Helga insisted.
"How'd you find me?" Rhonda's eyes narrowed."I never told you where I was."
"I have my ways," was all she said.
The brunette looked away, her gaze on the children that Helga saw earlier. Their castle was getting bigger.
"I'm fine, you know. I appreciate you coming down here but I don't need a chaperone. You can stay here while you book a return flight."
"You're so nice for not throwing me out." Helga patted her hand. "But I'm afraid you have no choice in this matter, Teresa. Like I said, the people have spoken. Barbie has spoken. Ken has spoken. You're going against Mattel on this. You're not gonna win."
Rhonda pretended she didn't hear. She was too tired to argue with Helga.
"Have you been eating well?"
"I have no appetite."
Malnutrition is dangerous for a pregnant woman. Rhonda's slight frame frightened Helga.
"You have to eat more. I'll cook for you."
She shrugged her bony shoulders.
"I'm a great cook now," Helga promised.
"I still have nightmares about how burnt those pancakes were during one of our sleepovers," Rhonda shot back.
"I'll pop a tv dinner in the microwave and you'll eat it and say you enjoyed my cooking. It'll be great."
In some ways, Helga knew her friend was like her. In a crisis, she didn't like to be coddled. She preferred to be alone and soldier through it without an audience. However, this was different. She was going through an agonising heartache, a messy divorce, and carrying her first child. Rhonda needed someone to be there. Even if she didn't realise it herself. And Helga was going to be that person. She needed to help put her friend together again like Humpty Dumpty and all the King's men. By nature, something she truly loathed about herself, Helga was a nurturer.
Plus, she needed to work on her new book. Away from her child and Arnold. She loved them to bits but lately she couldn't concentrate around them. They were an adorable distraction. She and Rhonda could have solitude together here.
"I need to write my new book. Figure it'd be easier if I crashed with one of my editors."
Not a lot of people knew about Rhonda's involvement in Helga's success and the heiress preferred it that way. For all the attention grabbing she did in high school, when it came to things that truly mattered, Rhonda didn't like receiving credit. She likes working behind the scenes.
It was one of the things that fascinated Helga about her and what made their friendship so enduring. She owed a lot to Rhonda. It was time for her to pay back.
"And you couldn't crash at Nina's?"
When she puts her mind to it, Rhonda can do sarcastic really well.
"She's editing my other book. The one that I finished three months ago. I can't bother her now. Besides, she and her husband are trying for a baby. I can't be around that," Helga said with faked disgust.
"But you can bother me?"
"Yes. Because you have the time and a gorgeous house in California."
"I knew you were only friends with me for the perks."
"Hey, as long as you let me drive the Bugatti again, we can keep talking about bikini waxes or whatever shallow things you glamorous trust fund babies do in your spare time. I'll even pretend to like your nails and organic juices."
Rhonda finally smiled. Helga and she have never once talked about bikini waxes.
"You can have the Bugatti if you want. Eddy never really drove it and I get to keep it in the divorce."
The mention of her husband dampened Rhonda's mood. She sipped at her orange juice.
"Thanks but I'm gonna have to pass. It doesn't really have space for a baby's car seat."
"Are you kidding me? The car salesman told me it's the perfect car for a mother on the go."
They shared a look. Helga burst into laughter. "A mother going straight to jail. You have to put your baby in the front seat of that sweet ride."
"It's all worth it if your infant can feel that superior leather interior," Rhonda replied.
Helga laughed louder. It's nice to know her friend's sense of humour hasn't gone missing.
"I'm starting to have doubts about you being a mom."
The blonde was making a joke but apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Rhonda's face crumpled.
"Oh no! I didn't mean it like that," she said.
"I know you don't," Rhonda cried. "You were joking."
"I'm sorry. I can be so insensitive sometimes."
Helga felt like a massive prick.
"No. I'm sorry. Don't feel guilty. It's okay. It just, I–" Rhonda's voice weakened. "I have a lot of doubts about that too. And I think all these shitty hormones are messing with my head. The other day I cried at a breakfast cereal commercial, Helga. A cereal commercial. I think I've hit rock bottom."
"You're not broke and you have not started selling your body for money so... no. Not rock bottom yet."
Insecurities and feelings of inadequacy were common amongst first-time mothers. There's that uncertainty. The fear of screwing up someone's life. A life that wasn't your own. It's a big responsibility. Helga understood. She reached out for her friend's hand.
"Hey, I felt that same way before James arrived. I wondered if I was good enough. How can I be the perfect parent? Then I realised, I can't. No one can. Once you let that go, you'll feel less pressure. I have a feeling you'll be an excellent mother."
"I don't know about that," Rhonda said, unsure. "But I'll try my best."
"That's all we can do, really," Helga reassured her. "And, you'll learn on the job."
"I don't want my child to grow up like me."
"Rhonda."
"I'm an awful person."
Helga sighed. "No, you're not. You just made some really bad choices."
"I don't want my child to grow up to be like me. In that toxic environment."
Helga kept quiet so her friend could continue.
"Everybody had these expectations of me," Rhonda choked, her eyes were tearing up. "And I felt like I constantly can't live up. I feel like I keep letting everyone down. I do something and I disappoint someone but if I choose the other option there's someone else who gets upset. I'm so tired of having to please everyone around me."
"So don't."
Was it really that simple?
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean, princess, is that you don't owe anyone anything anymore. You married Eddy to please your parents and their friends, that was a bust. You become the ultimate Stepford wife to please Eddy, another bust. Hate to break it to you, Rhonda-loid, but when you're busy being someone else, you rarely win. In fact, it sucks your soul. To the point that you have a nervous breakdown, have an affair, something you'll never do under any normal circumstance, and then file for divorce. The last one I commend you on. If you're really worried about your child, just don't raise him/her in the manner your parents raised you. Come to think of it, it's not like they neglected you or anything."
"Nope, just put a lot of pressure on me growing up."
From what Helga had observed, Rhonda had put that pressure on herself. Growing up around her mother's friends' children who all went to private schools made Rhonda insecure. It's not that Rhonda wasn't smart, it was that she constantly compared herself to prodigies manufactured by forcing excellence on a child. Children who could perform Flight of the Bumblebee on piano by age four and solve college-grade math by thirteen. They were sort of robbed of their childhoods and elitist to boot. Not their fault, they had been raised by their parents that way. The Lloyds haven't done that. They put her in public school and allowed her to figure out things for herself. Sure, they surrounded her with supplementary classes. But it was the children who were cruel and mocking to Rhonda, not that she ever told her parents. They made passing remarks at parties and told her she wasn't truly part of their group since she was only a private academy reject. Rhonda just worked her ass harder. She must ace Latin. She had to practice her French. She had to marry someone impressive. They can't see how their words affected her. If her father could rise from adversity, so could she. Rhonda was so convinced she was a failure if she didn't measure up. Helga didn't even hear about all this until one night at a high school party when the heiress got flat-out drunk and told her story crying. The stress had gotten to her.
After that, Helga couldn't despise her anymore and she kept Rhonda's secret. Luckily, she was the only one who witnessed the heiress' meltdown.
"You're not against my decision? About the divorce?" Rhonda asked, unsure.
"Why would I be? It's the best decision you've made so far. Good riddance to that piece of shit."
"He's not that bad."
"He cheated on you with a legion of women, Rhonda. Stop defending him."
"Well, I cheated too."
"Pssh, more like you cheated Curly by marrying that prick."
Rhonda winced at the name. She straightened her spine and her lips pursed in a determined manner. "Let's not justify it. What I did was wrong and I feel sick and guilty about it. Besides, Thaddeus never wanted me."
"Lies. You're lying even to yourself. Of course, he wanted you. Wants you. He just hasn't pulled his head out of his ass. For as smart as that boy is, he's a little slow on the uptake. Kind of like Arnold."
"I gave him a chance already."
"I know. It's his turn to man up," Helga said wisely.
"You haven't told him where I am, right?"
The blonde was incredulous.
"Of course not. What do you think I am? An idiot? He's got some shit to figure out before he comes crawling back to you. And trust me, he will."
The heiress clasped her fingers together. "I'm not so sure about that. He made that clear the last time we saw each other. And frankly, I don't want to see him after everything that happened."
Then, Rhonda embarrassed herself further by bursting into more tears in front of Helga. The blonde patted her back. Her shoulders shook up and down and there were heaving sobs escaping her mouth.
"Hey. There, there, sweetie. You have to get a grip. Crying at cereal commercials… Look, I know you've been through quite a lot but you can still roll with the punches. And life will keep throwing punches, some underhanded, you won't see coming, and some you can spot from a mile away… but you have to stand strong. Don't let it knock you down and if it does, get back up and win the next round. I know you, you're tough. You're a fighter. Like me."
"You think so?" Rhonda asked in a wobbly voice. She was oddly touched. She pulled a bunch of tissues from the pack Helga offered and dabbed her eyes. "I kinda got lost at all the boxing analogies but I appreciate it. I thought you only think of me as some dumb, spoiled, rich kid."
"Jeez, and I thought I had self-esteem issues. Are you kidding me? Why would I be hanging out with you if that's all I thought you were? All the notes you've given me throughout the years have helped my novels become bestsellers. You sell yourself short, Rhon."
Helga's voice became lower and emotional.
"And if it weren't for you, Arnold and I may have never gotten together. I'm here for you. Whenever you need me."
Rhonda gave her a watery smile.
The blond remembered the embarrassing instance when Rhonda and Arnold dated in high school. It lasted for a week and had been orchestrated by the QueenBee herself. Helga had been furious at the time.
"Does it bother you at all? That I get to make out with Arnold whenever I want?" she gloated.
Helga's fingers curled into fists.
"No. Go ahead. Go nuts. You and that football-headed loser deserve each other," the blonde snapped.
"I can't keep my hands off him. He's so hot. In case you're wondering, his hair is as soft as it looks."
"I haven't wondered anything about Arnoldo."
Helga slammed her locker and walked away. Rhonda followed her. The former bully stopped and turned towards the most popular girl in school, self-proclaimed title, of course.
"What the fuck do you want?"
Rhonda laughed. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder.
"He says I'm the best kisser there ever was."
Arnold wouldn't say that. No. Not about Rhonda fucking Lloyd.
"I can't wait for Friday night. Devon's party." Rhonda grinned. "We're gonna go all the way. Arnold will be a virgin boy no more."
That's it.
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! You have no fucking idea what you're talking about."
Their schoolmates turned their heads to see what the commotion was about. She was just about to shove the stuck up rich girl when…
"Finally! A reaction,"Rhonda said, breathing a sigh of relief, ignoring the students staring at them. She looked at her nails as if they were the most interesting things on the planet.
Helga blinked at her.
"What?"
The rich girl rolled her eyes.
"Show up at Chez Paris tonight. At 8:50. Say your date ditched you and talk to him."
"Huh?"
Another roll of the eyes and then a groan.
"He's going to be there. Waiting for me. I'm not going to show up," Rhonda said. She made a chopping motion with both hands. "Intercept."
Helga still had no fucking idea what was happening.
"The teachers all say you're some sort of literary genius. I'm starting to doubt them. Read between the lines… Look, You obviously like Arnold. Yes?"
Helga gulped. No, it can't be. Nobody knows her secret except Phoebe. Did she tell Rhonda?
"I figured it out in the 8th grade," she whispered, cupping her mouth with one hand in an exaggerated manner as if she was sharing something scandalous. "After I caught you glaring daggers at Lila Sawyer when he asked her to the school dance."
Oh dear God, was she that obvious? Is Rhonda going to blackmail her? Is that what's happening?
"If you say a word to an–"
The brunette snorted. "I'm not a dumbass."
"Why are you doing this?" Helga asked, her voice smaller than she intended. "This doesn't concern you."
Rhonda paused. Then she gave a slight shrug. A slow smile spread across her face.
"I'm a fan of true love."
She started walking away. Helga stood in the middle of the hallway, shocked and completely confused. Rhonda turned one last time. "Remember, Chez Paris! 8:50. I'll find out if you don't show up. Don't be late!"
Helga wasn't. She arrived on time and just like Rhonda said, Arnold sat alone at one of the tables.
"So Queen Rhonda didn't show up, huh?"
"Has Nadine come by yet?" she asked.
Rhonda had gone back to her book. Helga wanted to laugh after seeing the title but figured it wouldn't be appropriate. How to Survive a Shitty Divorce by Elena Caspie. She immediately liked the writer.
"Yeah, she stayed for a while but had to get back. She has work. She left two days ago. I didn't want to further trouble her." Rhonda flipped to the next page.
"Well, lucky for you, I get to work wherever there's a computer. So, a month it is. I'll be staying here, eating free food, and soaking up the sun."
Rhonda gave her friend a withering look.
"Helga, you have a toddler."
"So? Let her father take care of him. Lord knows I need a break."
Rhonda didn't budge. Helga sighed.
"I called my sister to pitch in. She has like four babies under her belt. I'm pretty sure she can handle it. They'll all be fine. Meanwhile, I get to take a vacation here in California. Which I've been told, knows how to party," she said with a wink.
Rhonda let out an inelegant snort. "You're not really here to help me, are you? You're just here to work on your tan."
Helga knew her friend felt better knowing that she will be staying with her through this rocky period. She just didn't want to admit it.
"You've figured me out," she said, raising both hands in surrender.
The new mother leaned back on the white suede sofa with a content smile.
"I have my priorities in order. By the time I leave, you will have them in order as well. First, get a tan. Second, help my friend get her shit together," she punctuated each point by counting with her fingers.
Rhonda threw a pillow at Helga which she caught before it hit her face. The brunette chuckled but then her hazel eyes became sad again. Helga smiled and looped an arm around her friend.
"Oh, you spoiled, beautiful girl. I have a feeling everything will turn out right in the end. You'll see," she whispered.
"I hope to God you're right, Helga," she croaked, feeling the waterworks starting up once more. She placed her book down. "As you are with everything else."
They stared at the beach together. The midday sky fused with the water. It was lovely. They let out contented sighs.
"Let's call Phoebe and have a slumber party. It'll just be like high school," Helga said enthusiastically. Half-joking, half-serious. "I'll even make you those burned pancakes you love so much."
Rhonda laughed. It felt good to do so.
"Then we can talk about bikini waxes… I'll get started on making the organic juices," Helga droned on.
The brunette whacked her lightly with another pillow. This time, it hit her square on the face. Their laughter could be heard by the children on the sand.