A/N: A Gerald chapter, side order of Lila, Helga, and Arnold. One step closer to Arnold's secret. Some of the more astute of you may figure it out early! Thanks for sticking with me this long, there's so much more to come. Next one is all Helga!
Keeping Arnold: Chapter 4, Most Love Comes Second Hand
"If we choose, we can live in a world of comforting illusion." - Noam Chomsky
"Try to keep up, Geraldo, we ain't got all day to wait for you to catch up," Helga snarled at Gerald. Gerald was non-plussed, as a calloused habit of abuse from Pataki dulled him ages ago to anything but her sharpest weapons. He straightened the bass in his grasp, shaking his head and lifting his shoulders once.
"Look, I haven't played since freshman year," Gerald tried to defeat Helga's nastiness with reason. It sometimes worked. "And then it was for my cousin's hip hop project. You gotta cut me some slack, I'm not used to girl rock."
Gerald was in Helga's apartment with Brainy and Stoop Kid, practicing with Orphan for the party coming in just two days. A lot was left to prepare at his frat house, but the urgency of learning a set of twelve songs was pressure enough to keep him in Helga's company for pretty much every available moment he had.
"Shit in seven stacks, where'd this kid learn to play?" Stoop Kid irritably rolled the kick drum pedals, rumbling the floor with his impatience. The former bully was not exactly who Gerald envisioned playing up on the stage when he suggested Orphan play, but Helga insisted that Stoop Kid was the only one who could manage on such short notice. And Gerald had to admit, Stoop could play drums. So far, he had no trouble at all following Helga's instructions to the letter, even finding ways to creatively improvise and flourish in ways that Pataki praised.
Gerald was a lot rustier. He had a valid reason, though. He didn't have a lot of time to practice bass guitar between baseball, partying, frat duties, classes, and planning a mastermind plot with his ex-now-girlfriend to get his best friend to dump Lila Sawyer and move back home. He was swamped.
"Let's just start from the top. I want to run through 'Tibetan Pop Star' again." Helga shifted her stance back to the mic they had set up in her living room. Gerald had to admit that they had really done a bangup job setting up a practice studio in their tiny apartment in fairly little notice. He and Brainy had spent a fairly awkward, silent afternoon stapling sound proofing foam to their walls, hanging heavy blankets over windows and doors, and running cables and cords from amps and pedal systems to the handful of outlets in the two bedroom flat. They'd only gotten a single noise complaint in two days, and that was because they had forgotten to close one of the bedroom windows and seal it up. They'd been able to get in some really solid practice, and Gerald, always confident, had no doubt he'd be able to perform to Helga's standards on stage.
She still made him nervous.
The song began, Helga's voice following the leading melody she plucked out, and Gerald waited for the right bar to join in, concentrating, but his mind still found ways to occupy itself with other urgent issues.
I can't believe Lila went to South America after she moved. Gerald hit the exact note he needed to on time, and saw Helga's glance of approval as they continued through the song. It was true, he was shocked to learn that Lila had left her hometown after graduation and went to Arnold. It was almost out of character for her, and certainly one of the last things he'd ever expect to hear that she'd been up to.
What really surprised him, though, was that Arnold had kept her a secret for the better part of three years. Arnold was mum on why. In fact, Arnold was uncharacteristically silent on the issue altogether, besides his rather sudden and dramatic announcement regarding the redhead.
Gerald fell through the song's dramatic finale without any errors, finally having the hang of the jaunty bass line that followed the power-chord climax. When the song was over, he took a breath, reaching for a handkerchief to wipe his sweat-soaked forehead.
"Yo, what do you say we stop for a lunchbreak. I'm beat." Gerald needed a break. He needed to call Phoebe, first of all, and he needed to talk to Arnold. He hadn't seen his best friend since the first day he came to town, and he knew Arnold was busy catching up with Phil and Gertie, but he was still his oldest friend he hadn't seen in person in almost ten years. Even though time had managed to get in the way of how close they really were, he still imagined himself Arnold's life-long childhood bosom buddy, and wasn't about to let too much time pass without at least hanging out with him for old time's sake.
"Yeah, I could eat," Helga agreed. "Hey, Froboy, you're doing an alright job, for a total slacker. Against my better judgement, I'd say you just might managed to not embarrass me to death."
"Gee, thanks, Helga. You're ever too kind to little old me," Gerald gave his bitter reply. He had to admit to himself, even though Helga was bullish and unpleasant and never let an opportunity to humiliate or harass him go, she had her moments. He still couldn't see what Arnold saw in her ten years ago.
Or what he sees in her now. Gerald had to remind himself, Arnold had been extremely insistent the day he returned to Hillwood that he see Helga first. Maybe he just needed closure, Gerald reasoned as he drank from a bottle of tepid water Helga handed him. Brainy and Stoop Kid stepped out onto the balcony to hand roll some cigarettes, the unpleasant busker immediately opening his mouth to start talking trash about the party. Gerald never really liked Stoop Kid. He thought he was too mean, too cowardly, and too old to be worth his time. Arnold saw something in him Gerald didn't; a running theme in their friendship.
Gerald had decided the first day Arnold returned to find out what it was he saw in Helga, though. He needed to understand what made that attraction possible, if they were going to overcome the mountain that was Lila.
"Say, Pataki," Gerald began tentatively. He knew you had to be careful with her. She was older, and far less prone to actual physical violence than when they were elementary kids, but if you pushed Pataki too far she would let you know immediately, and in the least pleasant way you could imagine. "Can I ask you a kind of personal question?" Time to be bold.
"What is it Froboy?" she shot back with impatience. Helga was writing something down busily in a pink spiral notebook, barely paying attention to Gerald. He took it as permission to proceed.
"How come you never, I dunno, moved on in ten years? Didn't you like, date some dudes in high school? Sow your wild oats and whatnot? How do you even remember all that happened when we were in fourth grade?"
Helga stopped writing, looking up at Gerald with a scowl on her face. "Criminy, what is it with everybody and this stupid gradeschool crush I had ten years ago?" She huffed, visibly bothered. He saw that she wanted to be nasty by the twitch in her thick black eyebrows. Instead, she closed her eyes and sighed a deep, shaking sigh. She was calming herself down. Maybe she had matured.
"How exactly was I supposed to move on when the obsessive little shrimp wrote me letters constantly for six years?" She set her pencil down and leaned on her knees. Gerald was a little surprised, she was opening her body language to him. Him. He and Helga had never gotten on well. At best, they had a begrudging respect for one another, a silent agreement to stop fighting around Arnold when he was still around. Once he left, the gloves came off in middle school, and a few vicious altercations later and they basically never talked at all in high school.
Gerald remained silent, his stoic and curious expression the bait he hoped he needed to goad her in further.
"I mean, yeah I went on a couple of shitty dates with nobodies not worth mentioning. Had some laughs, even had a good cry or two. Hell, Brainy took me to prom." She smiled a little at the memory and looked out at the balcony to Brainy, who was pretending to listen to Stoop Kid's rant about yuppies while he watched Helga. Gerald noticed the pink in her cheeks. Interesting. Brainy and her have something going on deeper than we've considered. Gerald would need to tell Phoebe as soon as he left for lunch.
"But, I've cared about that stupid kid since we were three years old. It's not even something I have a choice in, really, it's a character trait by now. He's in my marrow." She paused, hesitating. He watched her features change, soften and then harden again, as she decided to open up to him. Gerald held his breath.
"It's like, he's out there, somewhere, and I will always think fondly of him and wish him well and fight like hell to make sure he's got it good wherever he is, if I can. But, I mean, it's all in the distant past now," she shrugged, looking back up at Gerald with her eyebrows high. "That's the only reason I'm okay with talking to you about it, by the way. I know you won't do something extremely foolish like make fun of me anymore, 'cause we're not kids, and 'cause you know better. Besides, there's no point in keeping a story with an ending a secret. Arnold's all grown up. And he grew up far away from me and you and everybody else. He's not ours anymore; he's not mine, he never was. So yeah, I care about him, in the same way I care about softball and music and poetry. Doesn't mean anything will come of it, or that it should."
"You could chase after him," Gerald suggested, wondering how much she knew about Lila. Gerald wagered she didn't know anything. He was about to find out.
"Yeah, that might have been an option in a fairy tale, Gerald." Her expression soured. She didn't know about Lila. "Don't make me regret telling you even one iota of my feelings, or you'll regret making me regret."
"Nah, I'm serious, Pataki. I'm not making fun, if you feel anything special for the boy, you should chase him." Gerald felt like he had a duty to give her the advice Arnold never could. He tried to tell her exactly what Arnold would. He felt he owed it to Arnold to try. "You were kids when you put your heart on the line, but you're not kids anymore. Maybe he has old or new romantic feelings for you, maybe not. It could happen. But you get nothing by just 'wishing him well' and 'remembering him,' in fact I think that's kind of selfish."
Helga's face screwed into a pissed-off scowl, the mask she wore when something hit too close to home. Gerald had seen it plenty of times as kids, he had just lacked the emotional toolkit to interpret her behavior back then. Not now, though. Gerald was, with perhaps the sole exception of Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, the best at unraveling social motivations in Hillwood. Years of gathering information in his little black book with the help of Fuzzy Slippers had given him remarkable insight. He knew Phoebe saw some of it when they worked on this plan together, but it had been hard for him not to tell Phoebe everything he knew.
Gerald was the coolest guy in Hillwood; he always played with a stacked deck and still made you think he'd fold every hand.
"Fuck off, Gerald." Helga stood up angrily, and Gerald watched her silently chew his advice and digest it. He knew he'd given her grade-A, unmistakably Arnold material. He knew what it would do to her. "And even if I did chase after him, don't you think it's a little foolish for a grown woman to get all over-the-moon loopy over someone she had a tiny crush on in fourth grade? I've grown, I've changed. I'm not the shrimpy bully from PS118 anymore."
Gerald thought she was remarkably similar to the bully from PS118 now, maybe so close to the mark it embarrassed Helga.
"You've been just as mean, nasty, and downright shitty to be around since you were three, Helga G. Pataki. Fuck you too if you don't wanna recognize that shit as the honest truth."
Helga smirked, her hand resting on her hip. He saw a look in her eyes, a spark of a challenge that crossed between them.
"Oh I'm just as tough as I used to be, tougher even. But the little girl you knew is gone; she died a long time ago. In a jungle. Alone."
Gerald remembered what happened to Helga immediately after Arnold left. Most of the kids in PS118 remembered. It was one of the reasons most of their group of friends scattered; watching a human being spiral into such a magnificent blossom of catastrophic self-destruction was really hard to do. Especially for ten year olds.
"You know this is the longest we've ever talked, Pataki? And even though it sickens me to admit, I see what Arnold meant all those times." Gerald gambled. He needed her to open up further. So far, he'd managed to get her to be especially frank with him. He was suspicious of it; it seemed too simple for her. Helga was a sealed vault buried under a continental plate at the bottom of the deepest ocean. Inaccessible. He knew for a fact nobody on the planet had heard some of the stuff she'd been telling him, except maybe Phoebe. Maybe Brainy, too, he corrected himself, remembering the discovery of their unique relationship.
"What the fuck do you mean, Froboy?" She seemed genuinely interested, a tiny mote of hope carried in her scratchy voice now raw from singing.
"Man, I hated you for the longest time. You were such a monster to everybody, especially my best friend, I couldn't see a single damn thing in you that was worthwhile." He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you know who, every damn time, would patiently correct me? Guide me gently, convince me somehow, every time that you weren't so bad, deep down?"
Helga's already large, expressive eyes were held large and fearful on her face. He knew he had her; she knew in her heart what he was about to say, but was anxious to hear it.
"Arnold Shortman. Every time. 'She's not so bad deep down, Gerald.' 'Helga is a good person when she's calmed down.' 'I know she doesn't mean it.'" Gerald scoffed, genuinely feeling the disbelief he was affecting. "Saint. I don't know why or how he had the patience. Maybe he's the reincarnated Buddha, fuck, the guy is practically the living embodiment of Zen. But every time you fucked with our lives and pushed him down or coated him tip to toe in spitwads, he'd sigh real big, brush it off, and tell me to back off when I felt like clocking you one."
Gerald walked to the door, intent on leaving her with something big enough to chew on, something to get her where they wanted her for the party. He needed Arnold and Helga to at least confuse each other enough to put the brakes on this whole thing. This much was necessary.
"After he left, years later, I was telling him about some shitty stunt you pulled our freshman year, I don't even remember what it was," Gerald lied. He remembered. It was written down. "And he started defending you like he always did. Guy's not seen you in five years, and he's still rushing to your defence against me, his best friend. So I ask him why."
Gerald put his hand on the door knob, fishing for his keys while he felt Helga's eyes riveted on him. He had her; time to chum the water for his shark.
"Arnold pauses," Gerald turned his head to look at Helga as he opened the door. "Then he says, 'Because we're orphans, Gerald. Together.'"
Gerald held eye contact with Helga. He saw the effect of the story in her big watery blue eyes. Maybe it was too much. Anything more would spoil the effort, he knew, so he shook his head and left the apartment, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
Mid-stride in a light jog, Gerald listened to the dial tone impatiently. Phoebe picked up right away.
"Gerald." She always answered his calls that way. He thought it was strange, but endearing.
"Pheebs, I'm doing it. I'm doing it!" Gerald could barely contain the excitement in his voice.
"I'm similarly excited to hear of your accomplishment, but if you enlighten me with specifics I will be able to share your jubilance."
"Helga, babe. I'm getting somewhere with her. I think this is going to work, I think we can get her to open up." Gerald turned a corner, his feet automatically taking him where his heart wanted him to go. Arnold was close. His pace picked up.
"That is exciting news, then. What method has produced results?" Phoebe sounded like she was busy doing something as well. The both of them were always busy these days; they had a lot to prepare for.
"Just talkin' about Arnold. And liberally peppering in tidbits about my private one-on-ones with the man over the years. She's so thirsty for details she practically let me get away with murder."
Phoebe clucked her tongue. He knew she didn't like that they were manipulating Helga like this. Their friendship was as close as his and Arnold's; closer even, as distance had only recently separated them. But if Gerald didn't push, the party would fall flat. Everything had to be precisely right.
"Well, I'm not too fond of some of your chosen tactics, but I cannot argue with results. Keep me updated; where are you now?"
"Running to Arnold's real fast. I got a break from practice, so I'm not gonna waste it." Gerald's pace slowed down as he turned the corner and came to street the boarding house was on. No use in winding himself with the finish line in sight.
"Good; I've actually been quite concerned that our over-focus on this plan has detracted from our ability to enjoy his return. The odds of our success are tenuous, as you know. I've been thinking, and I think you should try to genuinely enjoy spending time with Arnold as much as possible. The plan is important, but, your friendship is far more important."
Gerald was touched. He always did love that sweet, sensitive side of Phoebe. Over the years in their friendship and relationships she had always surprised him with the level of sincerity and compassion she was capable of. He actually stopped walking, feeling compelled to tell her so.
"Hey, Pheebs," he looked up at the skyline of the buildings, fondly remembering all the times they ran around on the roofs as kids.
"Hm? Yes, Gerald?"
"I'm really glad we got back together. I really like you." He felt self-aware of his own body, his free hand not occupied by the phone fishing in his pocket nervously. She didn't respond right away, but he heard her sigh.
"I'm especially pleased as well, Gerald. I'll visit tonight. We can finish this conversation later." Her voice held the promise of something he knew he would enjoy.
"See you then, babe. I'm at Arnold's." Gerald put the phone in his pocket, stepping up the short stairs of the boarding house. He hadn't been in the building in years. He hadn't seen Phil and Gertie since his graduation. He recalled with fondness how they had shown up, Phil in his brown suit half moth-eaten and patched up, Gertie in the profound robes of a judge with a powdered wig. He smiled at the memory. Arnold's family had always been dear to him, but things had more significance when Arnold was back around. Taking a breath to steady himself, he lifted a hand to knock on the door.
Gerald sat awkwardly at the kitchen table, watching Phoebe assist Lila in making the three of them a pot of tea. Watching Lila move around the kitchen in her wheelchair was still jarring to Gerald, a shock of sad tragedy and an anxious wall of hopelessness he hadn't been remotely prepared for.
Lila, for her part, was her typical cheerful self about the situation. She had agreed to meet with them with excitement, and encouraged them to make the trip out to her family farm as soon as they were able.
"I am just ever so sure that we three have a lot to talk about," she had cryptically hinted. Gerald was sure she was talking about Arnold in a cunning, roundabout way. It turned out that she was, although only tangentially.
Phoebe and Gerald made the drive to her farm a week after their initial strategizing session. Now officially a couple, the drive had been really fun. They listened to Kanye and gossiped and talked about Helga, but mostly they made up for lost time together. The drive was sweet, a pleasant memory he could go back to now when he was so uncomfortable.
He felt terribly guilty. He felt like he should have known this, he should have kept tabs on her, should have pressed Arnold for more information. He was supposed to know everything about everybody; not knowing that Lila Sawyer was now in a wheelchair, partially paralyzed in her legs, and selling the farm to go live with Arnold was a lapse in his responsibilities. A warm, sick feeling sat in his guts, and made it difficult for him to keep up pleasantries. He had said little. Phoebe noticed, making up for his silence with an over abundance of chatter. He wasn't sure which made Lila feel more awkward, but he could tell they were making her feel uncomfortable.
Lila rolled herself to the table with Gerald, sighing gently.
"I suppose you are just besides yourselves with curiosity. It's okay; you can ask." She seemed so patient.
Gerald looked at Phoebe. She seemed like she understood the pleading look he tried to give her, and spoke for them both.
"Gerald and I came to visit because we heard from Arnold what the two of you were planning," she diplomatically began. "We are a little surprised at your condition, Arnold made no mention of any injuries you had sustained."
"Ah, no, I don't suppose he would be any manner of eager to talk about it." Lila's smile was slightly sad. Gerald felt ill to see it. They would have to totally abandon their plan, he felt. He couldn't get in the way of this.
"Do you mind helping Gerald and I understand what happened?" Phoebe continued to be diplomatic.
"Not at all," Lila smiled sweetly, setting her teacup down daintily. Gerald could hardly believe she was the same plain girl he knew in grade and middle school. A lot had changed; beyond her injury, Lila Sawyer had grown up to be a rather voluptuous woman. She kept her auburn hair in a high bun, but had pretty, soft bangs swept over a forehead that he could tell was crossed with recent worries. She wore a green sundress, and Gerald could imagine no color more appropriate for her to wear. She was green in his mind, always, vibrant. Full of life's sweetness.
Part of him worried that he was romanticizing her injury. The rest of him couldn't deny what he was seeing: a beautiful young woman, that if he didn't know better he would call almost physically perfect.
"It was all rather silly," she began, looking down at the table in memory of things past. "When mama and papa passed in the flood suddenly, I was just terribly upset and alone. Arnold was ever so sweet and encouraging in his letters. When he proposed I visit, I was just ever so tickled and curious. Travel has always been just an oh so romantic dream of mine.
"He picked me up in Mexico City, looking rather dashing and tanned and seeming just especially worldly. I must admit Arnold has always been a special boy to me, but something different about him made him especially special then. It was easy to fall in love quickly with him, when he was so dashing and daring and sweet." Lila rest her cheek on her hand, looking into her teacup, fondly remembering.
Gerald could only imagine the shock of seeing Arnold as he was now after years of imagining a scrawny, shrimpy kid. Gerald had been floored to see him in photos, all tanned and strong and rugged looking. Lila must have been floored. Helga will be shocked, he thought. The plan returned to his thoughts, and he furrowed his brow as he listened to Lila tell her sad tale.
"We spent a few weeks in Bolivia, then Peru, and then he took me to San Lorenzo and I got to stay with him and Miles and Stella. His parents are ever so darling, but they were awfully prying into our affairs, Arnold's and mine. That's not to say that our affair had started then, in fact that started much later. After, well, you know." Lila glanced down at her legs.
We have to find out how far its gone. Gerald was surprised to hear that nothing had happened until after the accident. Phoebe glanced at him, apparently thinking the same thing.
"One rainy dreary day Arnold was out gathering plants for Stella, and his guide comes running into camp, just terribly upset and concerned. Arnold had slipped and fallen somehow, and was out on a dangerous outcropping of rock, unconscious. Without thinking I ran after him with the guide, leaving most of my safety climbing gear behind."
Gerald saw where this was going. The guilt piled on.
"And," Lila sighed, gesturing to her legs. "I was able to get Arnold to safety, but, I couldn't manage to make the descent myself without this mess. It's ever so embarrassing; I feel positively a burden now."
Phoebe put her hand on Lila's. Gerald felt awkward watching the gesture. Lila smiled at the two of them, another slightly sad smile.
"Immediately after the accident, Miles and Stella and Arnold helped me get back home for immediate treatment. The doctors say I'm lucky, I've only lost partial use of my legs, and with physical therapy I might be right as rain again someday. Stella even thinks there's a miracle cure somewhere in the jungles for me."
Gerald and Phoebe looked at each other. He was sure she was feeling the same level of guilt that he was; how could they have spent so much time planning ways to take Arnold away from Lila, when they knew nothing about this? He felt awkward and obvious in front of Lila, who still managed to seem graceful and dainty despite everything.
"Lila, we-" Gerald began, his voice sounding apologetic. Phoebe put a hand on his, and shook her head. He closed his mouth, and felt a swirl of confusion why she interrupted him. Phoebe turned to Lila, and started to speak slowly.
"Lila, we owe you an apology," she began, and Gerald watched Lila widen her eyes in surprise. "We made this trip only because we heard from Arnold an entirely different story, and our intention was to try to get between you." Gerald felt his jaw hang open. What was she doing? Was she still going ahead with the plan? He watched with shock as Lila processed her apology, looking at the two of them with an annoyed, puzzled expression on her face.
"You see, the curious, secretive nature of the manner that Arnold has chosen to disclose this news to us gave us great cause for concern. It is singularly out of character for him to remain mum on something so significant; in fact, it is my suspicion that a guilty conscience was the only thing that prompted him to tell us at all."
Lila blinked in surprise, folding her hands in her lap passively. "What does this mean, Phoebe?"
"It means, Gerald and I came here with the suspicion that his heart isn't in this. You can surely forgive us our suspicions, but it seems now that perhaps we were mistaken." Now Gerald had no idea where Phoebe was going with this. He watched Lila process the half-apology, the shock of the candid confession clearly affecting her. She was blushing in splotches on her neck and cheeks, physically affected by this assuredly hurtful news. Gerald wanted to get out of there fast.
Gerald jumped in his chair when Lila looked up at him with watery eyes and spoke in a calm, but quivering voice. "How did you intend to go about getting between us?"
"Wha? W-what do you mean?" Gerald felt himself stammer in a blank panic.
"Well, did you two have some sort of plan?" He thought he saw something in her eyes, something other than hurt. He peered at her, but Phoebe answered for him.
"We have a complex, multi-stage plan, designed to bring Arnold back to Hillwood permanently." Gerald whipped his head to look at Phoebe in shock again. He felt like he was merely a spectator in some horrible play, a Greek tragedy where everyone in the room would end up murdered dramatically. "It involves Helga," she added.
"Helga Pataki," Lila said, shaking her head and looking out the window of her quiet, quaint little farmhouse. "The woman of letters." Gerald heard more years of confusion, bitterness, and rivalry in those four words than he felt he would ever hear again.
Gerald wondered how much Lila knew about the letters, or what Arnold had told her. She knew more than nothing, which was enough to make him unsteady.
"Arnold spoke of her often, until the accident. In fact, Arnold hasn't been much of his oh so very charming self since then. I think he feels terribly guilty; it's why I don't think you're wrong." Lila looked back at the two of them with a sad smile. "I don't think his heart is in it either. It's difficult for me to accept that, but I can't very well ignore the obvious much longer. After all, I was the one that put the idea in his head."
"What do you mean?" Gerald had yet to hear the story for himself.
Lila sighed, flattening out the wrinkles in her skirt. "Arnold asked me not long after the accident how he could ever repay me. For saving him. And I was feeling just ever so frightened and lonely and homesick, that I asked him to always stay by my side. He took the request oh so seriously, and quite literally."
Phoebe nodded, sipping her tea. Gerald had no idea how she could drink so calmly as bombshell after bombshell kept dropping. "If you suspect that Arnold's heart isn't in it, why accept?"
Lila smiled bright and large, shrugging her shoulders. "Because I'm in love with him. It's what I want, very much so."
Gerald felt like that was an oddly selfish response from Sawyer. "Even if his heart's not in it?"
Lila shook her head, "No, not if his heart's not in it. That's...why I think you should go on with your plan." Gerald felt his stomach drop. How awful. He was going to try to tear a crippled girl's life-long love from her, at her insistence. It felt monstrous, an unthinkable sin against a friend. How could she ask this of him and Phoebe? Even if it was what they came here to do, he still wondered if he had the grit to do it.
"Lila, no offense, but don't you think it's a bit cruel to you? I mean, we'll be trying our hardest to take Arnold away from you. Forever." He had to be honest with her. He wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror later if he was anything less.
"It's awful, terrible, and extremely nasty of me to ask you to do this, Gerald." Lila scrunched her nose up, not bothering to hide her bitterness. Gerald felt it was a special violence she committed to turn this awful thing against herself, to command their guilt away and lash Arnold's albatross to her own neck. "But, if you do everything you can and he still comes home to me and we start our new lives in San Lorenzo, I'll be able to do it with a clear conscience. It will mean despite all that happened in his past, I am his future. I can't imagine anything ever so much more perfect than that. It would be a gift. So, I'm terribly sorry to have to make you do this, I am ever so awfully sorry. Consider it a selfish request from an old friend."
Phoebe sighed, and Gerald felt himself lump up a wad of emotion in his throat.
"I know what it seems like," she continued, "but I truly believe that I'm not always going to be like this. Arnold isn't convinced, and he just looks at me so sadly. It's ever so awful, and I simply can't bear it. If you're brave enough to challenge his heart on my account because I'm too much of a silly lovesick little girl to do it myself, I'll lean on you for help." Lila tried to smile at them, but a tear forced itself out of her eyes, and was quickly followed by more.
Phoebe held her hand, squeezing it hard. The three old friends sad there like that for some time, listening to the patient clicking of Lila's wall clock and the gentle outpouring of misplaced remorse. Finally, Phoebe cracked the shell of silence. "Then we'll do everything in our power for you. And for him. The odds are good you won't have him anymore. I suggest that you make the most of the time you have between now and his planned visit."
Lila nodded, wiping her cheeks with her fingers. "Ahaha, don't worry, I will. I have ever so many romantic plans for my Arnold. He won't forget this month." She smiled through her sadness at them, and Gerald had no idea how to feel.
"Good luck, you two. I hope he loves me enough that your plans go up in smoke. But don't you slouch on me. I want an honest man or no man at all."
Gerald clenched his jaw, nodding. "Don't worry, Lila. We won't. Arnold won't know what hit him."
Phoebe grabbed his hand for purchase under the table, and he squeezed it as hard as he possibly could. Their agreement was clear. It was their solemn duty to keep Arnold.
Gerald was wheezing in the bone-crushing hug, laughing between gasps for air as his surprisingly strong best friend tried to shake the life out of him in a massive embrace.
"Aiight, aiight! I'm dyin'! Lemme down!" Gerald laughed, caught off guard by the surprising strength and vigor in Arnold.
"Oh, sorry Gerald!" Arnold set him down with a big grin on his broad features, clapping his hand in a squeezing handshake and slapping Gerald's opposite shoulder eagerly. "It's really great to see you! How long do you have?"
Gerald pulled Arnold's handshake into their secret version of the same, waggling his thumb opposite Arnold's in their often-practiced way.
"Maybe thirty, forty minutes. Gotta gig to return to - frat house stuff." Gerald had not told Arnold about Helga's band, or his participation. That wasn't in the plan.
"Time enough! I'll get Grandpa, he's been dying to see you." Arnold strode quickly into the kitchen, disappearing for a second.
Gerald had time to look around the boarding house, remembering the unique smell of those old walls, the creak of the floorboards, and the strange, almost year-round dense humidity of the first floor. He flexed his toes in his black converse, momentarily remembering grasping the thick wool rug underfoot in the entryway with childish, bare feet. It was a good memory.
"Issat Gerald? Hooboy, lookit how tall he is!" Phil rounded the corner, walking with a cane but still shockingly spry for 91. Gerald smiled wide at his old friend, walking to shake his hand warmly.
"Grandpa Phil, it's wonderful to see you. Eat any raspberries lately?"
"Oh you know me, a Shortman can never stay away from the darn things. How's your cute little Asian friend with the glasses?"
"Phoebe is well, Phil. She's off at university now, but we just got back together."
"Ah, young love! It's a beautiful thing, just be careful or you'll end up a papa! It's what I've been telling Shortman here about his cutey in the chair with the big bazookas!"
"Lila, Grandpa." Arnold corrected his grandfather with a wince, an embarrassed smudge of shiny red on his very tan features. Gerald had to admit, Arnold looked like a sun god these days. Years of mostly physical labor out in the sun drenched equatorial jungles had given him a permanent bronzing to his skin, but in a way that lifted the impression of health and vigor to the surface. His easy green irises were ringed by eyes that had managed to grow little crows feet. His hair, longer than before, was roughly tousled and sun-kissed, crashing waves of almost silvery blonde highlighting within his normally golden straw locks. A thick, even field of fine, shining golden facial hair spread under his nose around his jaw, giving him a rugged and adult look. Gerald had done a double take the first time he saw his friend again, the transformation was that impressive.
Phil nodded, waving his free hand to shoo away the annoying business of remembering names. "Well, I'll let you two catch up. Pookie's got to have her afternoon herbal remedies." Arnold helped turn Phil around, and Gerald watched the wizened old man positively zoom off to go spend time with his wife. He hoped he was half as much in love with Phoebe as Phil was with Gertie.
Arnold was watching him too, though he had a much different look on his face. Concern.
"Grandpa's not getting around as well these days," he sighed. "I don't know what is going to happen if he falls again."
Gerald smiled at his friend supportively, clapping his shoulder. "I'm sure Phil's gonna outlive us all, Arnold. Let's hit your room."
Arnold nodded, leading them up the stairs. "You and Phoebe back together huh? That's great!"
"Yeah. It just happened. Bout a month ago. We're gonna make it work, distance or not." Gerald swung into Arnold's desk chair when they arrived in his room, Arnold closing the door behind them for privacy.
"I'm happy for you. I know it'll work out, some things are just meant to be."
Gerald saw an ugly opportunity. He remembered what Phoebe said, but couldn't ignore the chance to add power to the payload of their plan.
"Just like some things aren't quite meant to be, huh?"
Arnold smiled bitterly, nodding. He crossed the small room in three strong strides, flopping his body onto his small old bed with a defeated sigh and the protesting strains of a tiny spring mattress. "I really thought something would happen when I saw Helga again."
"You can't beat yourself up man. And it's better nothing did happen, right? Ain't you spoken for, and thoroughly now?" Gerald knew he had to tread carefully. Arnold was smart, and wise to Gerald's tricks. Most of them.
"It's complicated, Gerald, you know that. And besides, Helga just seemed off somehow. I can't put my finger on it."
Gerald rolled his eyes. "Mm, mm, mm! My man Arnold Shortman has got no idea the stupefying effect his Marlboro man looks have on the ladies, does he?"
Arnold scrunched up his round nose at Gerald. "Marlboro man? Helga wasn't stupefied by my looks, Gerald."
"Then she's blinder than when she April fooled you. I'm telling you, seeing you for the first time is a shocker, man. Girl wasn't in her right mind, or I'm not the coolest guy in Hillwood."
It seemed to make Arnold think. Come on man, don't be this easy, Gerald inwardly pleaded. Don't be this easy on me, after all our years. Gerald genuinely felt like he wanted Arnold to challenge him. Anything less felt like it was somehow ignoble.
"Maybe at first, though I doubt it. No, Gerald, she meant what she said. 'The past is the past,' that's pretty definitive. It's all the answer I needed, I guess."
Dangerous. Always lead him down the path to Helga by a leash, even when you point him away with your hands and eyes. Gerald changed his tactics. "What if you got a different answer, though? What if Helga G. Pataki, queen bitch of Hillwood, looked you in the eyes and said, 'Arnold Shortman, I am hopelessly in love with you and never want to be apart.' How could you HANDLE that kind of shock?! I'd croak dead on the spot." Attack her, force him to defend.
"She's not a bitch, and don't ever use that word, please. It's a nasty word used only to hurt women." Arnold sounded serious. Gerald was surprised, but remained passively attentive. "Helga's just like me deep down, we just express ourselves in different ways. I understand her, better than anyone. If she'd said all of that, then, I dunno. It would be different. But she didn't. So it's over, time to grow up and move on."
Extreme danger! "Move on to Lila, you mean. It must be nice, having that sweet thing on the side as a backup." Careful, Gerald, careful!
"Gerald, what's gotten into you?" Arnold seemed legitimately offended, standing up from the bed. "Why are you going after them like that?"
"I'm not man, I'm just saying what they are probably thinking. You told Helga about Lila, right?"
"No, not exactly. Not at all, actually," Arnold screwed his face up painfully at the memory of Helga in the coffee shop. "It just never seemed to come up organically."
Gerald put on a shocked face. "What?! Arnold, brother, you gotta tell her. She's probably thinking of ways to apologize and confess to you, man!"
Arnold's eyes went wide. Gerald watched his oldest friend process the memories of all the times Helga had initially pushed him away, only to warmly and sweetly help him or compliment him later. "Oh, fuck, dude. What if you're right?" Arnold turned to his friend, looking lost and a little bit overwhelmed. "She used to do that hot-cold routine all the time as kids. I didn't even consider that."
Gerald had the seed planted. When Helga collided with him at the party like a meteor, Arnold's heart would be softened enough to receive the blow. "That's some heeeeeavy stuff, Arnold. You got Lila wheeling around her farm house expecting your safe return; you can't be going back home to her with unfinished business in Hillwood. You gotta tell her at the party."
"The party? Helga's going?" Arnold sounded genuinely hopeful. It would kill Lila to hear the way he said that.
"Of course she is, man, girl's part of PS118. No way I'd dare exclude her, even on your account." And she is the lynchpin of the entire plan, Gerald mused.
"You're right. Even if Helga's planning an apology, I've got to tell her about Lila. And even if she isn't, she deserves to know. It's the right thing to do."
"Yeah, buddy, it sure is." And it's why you'll fall for the trap, old friend, Gerald thought with remorse.
Arnold was pinned to destiny by The Right Thing. His years as an orphan had moulded him in the opposite ways Helga's decades of parental neglect had shaped her; Helga had grown to know that nothing in life turned out the way you hoped, and that the only one who had your back was yourself, while Arnold lived rejecting the sadness of that reality, instead embracing the impossible dreams and hopes, and relying on the kindness in others he believed was always present beneath the surface. It's what made him so special. It's what let them do this to him.
Gerald felt a familiar bile rise in his belly, recalling the sour sickness he was left with after meeting Lila. Manipulating his best friend like this was the grossest, most callously vile thing he could imagine. And yet, he knew it was totally necessary, because even though Arnold was a good man, he wasn't always right. He would ruin not just his own life, but maybe two others, blindly chasing Rightness and ignoring the truth in his own heart.
As Arnold began excitedly retelling one of his exciting jungle adventure stories to change the subject, Gerald weighed the moral costs within himself yet again, carefully measuring the gravity of doing nothing versus following the plan. Even now, feeling sickened to his stomach, he knew the answer.
They would keep Arnold; it was the only way.