A/N: Apologies in advance for the lack of secondary characters in this chapter. I'm not done with Rhonda, Sid, Eugene, Thad, or Harold. I know this fic has been a lot of AxH a lot of the time and this chapter will be no exception. Trust me that the side characters will get their side stories told, it's just time for Helga and Arnold right now.
If you are interested, once I finish this fic I will be transposing it to Archive of Our Own. I'm in the market for fan art for my chapters, so if you have any recommendations...
Keeping Arnold: Chapter 18, Young Love is Cheap (It's Everywhere)
"Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides." ― André Malraux
The smokey smell of bacon and robust richness of coffee woke Helga from a sleep of total exhaustion. The familiar ache she dimly recalled from the previous early morning interlude was still present, but this was overwhelmed into mild silence by the ravenous hunger that ripped through her. She leaned up on one arm, rubbing her eyes with a sleepy scowl.
The hotel room was mostly straightened out, the TV righted in the dark wood cabinet, the table they flipped upright in the corner, and no sign of the curtains and blankets they had scattered everywhere. She stared at the heavy blackout curtains over the only window opposite the door, aware that there was probably a lot of hateful sunlight waiting to stream in and violate her eyes, and thankful someone - Probably Arnold - had put them back on their hanger.
Speaking of Football Head, she didn't see him, or hear him moving about. I guess he left after ordering the breakfast, she reasoned numbly. We were done anyway, so I'm fine with it.
Helga slowly slid from the king size bed, and was surprised to see she was wearing her panties. She definitely didn't remember putting them back on. Arnold again. Gentleman. She looked down at the lean curvature of her belly and hips, regarding the bruises on her thighs and the redness of her knees. Her toes wiggled and splayed, then scrunched tight, popping some of the bones satisfyingly.
The chair they had destroyed was nowhere to be seen, even the splinters missing, so she just stood in front of the table where the pile of food was and started to shovel it in. Tearing open a little discreet packet of syrup, she liberally drizzled it over the big plate of bacon and the stack of flapjacks, feeling nothing except hungry.
As she guessed, Arnold had tried one last time to be with her and failed. Helga just isn't his cup of tea, even if he seems to enjoy fucking my brains out. Regarding that passionate, multi-hour marathon, Helga had gathered a healthy storehouse of erotic memory she'd be able to pull from for years in her private moments. At least the sex was life changingly awesome. I'm ruined on hetero sex for life. Nothing will ever match that. I guess I can try dating women for awhile.
She left the plate of food once she'd eaten her fill, leaving a few scraps for a snack on her way out the door.
The TV flickered alive with the remote in her hand, and cartoons filled the slate black screen colorfully, a noisome racket of little happy animals making the best of a difficult situation. Some cartoon ponies she'd never cared to try to get into had a lot to say about friendship, apparently, so she stood there half naked in front of their display to dispassionately watch their antics.
Nothing had ever felt so empty.
I guess we are done finally, she thought. This was inevitable and I knew it would be. I guess I just didn't want to be right. I wanted to believe his sweet lie, I wanted to be his girlfriend. Hell, I was waiting to be his wife.
That sudden, stark realization made the pancakes and bacon in her belly seem like a heavy stone.
Oh well, she mentally sighed, turning toward the front door and bathroom to get a shower in before she left. I guess it's Helga alone at last-
The front door knob jiggled and the door swung open, and Arnold stepped in quickly, carrying one of her pink suitcases. He saw her and immediately smiled broadly, setting the suitcase down and striding quickly to slip his arms around her stunned shoulders in a powerful hug. Helga just stood in his embrace, agog at his presence, his return.
He smelled like clean cotton and hotel shampoo. Helga's hands lifted to curl into the back of his shirt, her face burying into his neck with a little whimper.
I want this, she realized. I will do anything to have it.
She realized he was not wearing the suit from the night before. She slowly pulled off his chest and tilted her gaze slightly upwards. I love that he's taller than me.
"Hey, Arnold." She quietly murmured.
"Yo, Pataki."
"You're back."
"Yeah sorry I waited until you fell asleep and took care of things. I helped housekeeping take the busted chair out and paid for the damages at the front desk. Then I hailed a cab to your place and Brian let me throw some of your clothes in a suitcase for you. I figured you didn't want to try to put the shredded remnants of your dress on and walk out of here." He stroked her cheek fondly, a low chuckle at the imagined thought. "Not that I'd mind."
Helga very very vividly recalled when Arnold had taken the front of her dress in one hand and torn it right off her body. The memory filled her with an unwelcome heat.
"Oh. Thanks. That's a lot of shit you did. Brian let you in?" That was probably the most awkward moment in history, I'm sad I missed it.
"Yeah...more like, I just grabbed the clothes he'd set out for you and put them in the suitcase he'd also set out for you. Dude seemed to see this coming. Kinda spooky."
Brian had known I'd need a change of clothes since I never came home. Guilt swooshed around in her veins along with adoration for Brainy.
"Sounds like him. Thanks, Football Head. You didn't have to do this."
"I wasn't about to let my girlfriend stagger home in destroyed clothes."
She nearly choked. "G-girlfriend?! Whoa, hold up, what?"
Arnold just looked at her like she was screwing around with him. "Yeah...unless you changed your mind?"
"I didn't...what? Change? Girlfriend? What? You and? What?"
Arnold stepped away from her and smiled a little bit, off to inspect the breakfast she'd destroyed on the little side table. "Oh, good, you ate."
"Wait, hold up, back that horse up, cripple it, and walk it by me real slow again."
Arnold popped a thick slice of syrupy bacon into his mouth and looked awfully confused at her. "I mean, I said you should be my girlfriend now early this morning," he paused to chew. "And you were kinda sleepy but you agreed. I mean, I thought you did. Obviously you didn't remember." Swallowed. "So...I guess I'll say it again."
Helga held her hands up to her chest, covering her naked breasts in confusion. Arnold strode right back to her, taking her hands in his.
"Helga Geraldine Pataki, you should be my girlfriend."
Helga looked up at him, pretty sure she looked pathetically afraid in that moment. Everything she ever wanted was standing right in front of her, caring for her, taking care of her, and asking to keep doing it for an indefinite future. It was like her dreams stepped into reality, and made themselves physical with robust vigor and destructive strength. It was terrifying.
I want this, I want him. Say yes. Say yes. She struggled with the decision. But this is all an illusion. A mistake he's making. He said so himself, he just didn't have the heart to love me. I'm someone he pities that will have sex with him. If I say yes this will all end badly. It will be so bad it will never be okay again. I'll end a lifetime of friendship. I'll lose him. I'll lose everything.
She clutched at his hands as hard as she could, searching his earnest expression for some signal, some sign that she could forget what she saw and heard him say to Lila. That all her misgivings and fears were unfounded. That she could trust him and love him cleanly.
Or, third option. Helga considered saying yes...and riding this thing out to its natural conclusion with intent. If he was mistaken, if he was foolish and blindly trying to do the right thing for the wrong reasons, she could show him.
I can say yes now, and help him one last time. I can help Arnold grow past me and see he doesn't need to sacrifice himself for my sake. That his heart is true, and there's no reason to try so hard on my account. And...and if he calls me his girlfriend and treats me so nicely in the interim, that's just what I always wanted isn't it? I can say yes and still do the right thing for him and me. It doesn't have to end now...I can do this.
Helga realized doing this would mean murdering her heart. The empty cold aloofness she felt about everything since overhearing Arnold would only amplify. She'd crucify herself on her love, and die for Arnold's freedom. It would be the last of Helga Pataki.
It's the only way.
She would try to do this as gently, kindly, and compassionately as possible. She'd have to carefully guard her feelings, not get too caught up in the experience of dating Arnold, and when the right time came, end it with absolute and overwhelming resolve. If she kept going back and forth with Arnold, denying him, then flying to his arms only to deny him again, the poor misguided idiot would waste his whole life trying to make her...happy. At least he wants me to be happy, she fondly realized.
Helga turned that yawning ever-present void in her soul where her happiness and love for Arnold used to dwell into a tangible solid form in her mind. She imagined herself kneading it into rigidity with the grit of her strength, then forging it in the furnace of her endless love, and finally hammering it into usefulness on the anvil of her stubborn stupidity. What was left was the cold, precise instrument she would carve a proper, free life for Arnold from this mess of an affair. Only I can do this. Only I can set him free. I can give him everything Helga Pataki has to offer and show him it's not what he wants. I can weather his affection and all this physical intimacy, and cut him loose when the time is right. Only I can. So I will.
Helga stared up into Arnold's green eyes and felt her stomach flop as she answered him.
"Yes."
Phoebe was busily catching up on her studying when she got the call.
Even though she'd taken a short sabbatical to help her best friend see Arnold's return, classes were technically still in term for her. She was not about to fall behind on any account. She had goals for her studies and career, and chased them with all the seriousness and resolve at her disposal.
But even someone as studious as her put her books away when her best friend called her the Night After.
Brian had confirmed Helga hadn't returned home that evening. It meant she was either with Arnold, or someplace...less secure. Phoebe tried not to consider the myriad terrible possibilities if she hadn't ended up staying with Arnold.
Her texts to her wayward best friend had gone unanswered, of course. That's Helga, perpetually unavailable precisely when her expedient response is needed most. She loved her best friend, but Helga's terrible basic texting courtesy habits was easily one of her most challenging traits as a friend.
So she basically leapt for her phone when it finally rang sometime around noon that day.
"Hello?! Helga! Are you okay? Where are you?! Did everything go well with Ice Cream? Is he there?! Tell me what happened!"
"Criminy, slow it down Pheebs. It's like a girl can't disappear to a seedy hotel room to bang her date without getting read the Riot Act."
"Hotel room?" Phoebe felt herself flush at the ribald implication that Helga and Arnold had...bedded one another. Again. "Is that where you have been?"
"Yeah, Arnoldo sprung for a swanky suite downtown. Forget what I said about 'seedy,' boy has more class than that, surprising everyone. Big marble garden tub with a jacuzzi and everything."
Phoebe's mind raced. "So...things went well with Ice Cream?"
"Why do you keep calling him that old name?"
"S-sorry, force of habit I suppose. Arnold, then."
"Yeah I mean you are gonna have to get a new habit, it wouldn't be seemly for you to be calling my boyfriend a code word anymore."
Boyfriend? "Boyfriend?"
"That's what I said, clean your ears out, Pheebs. Sucker basically begged me once he saw what a goddess in the sack I am."
"Who are you lying to, Helga? Is that Phoebe?" Phoebe heard Arnold on the other line, sounding annoyed. "Let me set her straight, give the phone here."
"Not a chance, Football Head. Get your own best friend to harass! Ow! Leggo!"
Phoebe listened to the brief sounds of a struggle ensue on the other line. Something brushed against the receiver, sounding papery and loud, before she heard Arnold far more clearly.
"Phoebe I don't have long, she's all arms and legs and mad as hell-"
"Fuck you! Give it back or you'll answer to Betsy!"
"Just know she's fine, I'm fine, and we're dating now. Ouch! Not there!"
"Haha! An opening! Look alive, hair boy, you got a Pataki as an opponent! Do you really think you can afford to be distracted?!"
"Ouch! Helga! Ow! Fuck!"
"Hahahahaha! Not so cocky now are we? C'mere!"
"Ah~ shit! Not there, w-wait, we're in public."
Phoebe felt her ears turn red as she very clearly heard Arnold moan lewdly into the receiver. She no longer heard Helga.
"Arnold, I'm going to hang up now. Can you and Helga meet Gerald and myself at the diner for lunch in an hour? We need to debrief."
"There's already enough of that going on today," she heard Helga suddenly on the receiver. She apparently had the phone back now.. "But we'll meet you there just as soon as I get what I want~"
The call ended. Phoebe had to put the phone down and hide her face in her hands. She had no idea her best friend was so...shameless. It would have been unexpected if it were not Helga.
She was still agonizing over the embarrassing carnality of it all when Gerald came into the living room with the tray of tea and chocolates Phoebe sent him to fetch. In the Hyerdhal household, there were always delicious loose leaf green teas and a selection of gourmet chocolates to choose from. Phoebe and her mother shared a sweet tooth for the luxury stuff, and she and her dad both loved to try new teas.
Gerald set the small tray on her knee-height table, sitting next to her with crossed legs.
"What's up babe?"
Phoebe gave him a mortified look. "I think I just...overheard...Helga performing...an act of amorous expression."
"Say again?"
"With Arnold."
Gerald's eyebrows went up high. He didn't immediately reply, instead calmly scooping some of the loose leaf tea into Phoebe's floral printed porcelain teacup, and then gently pouring the nearly-boiled water over them. She'd shown him how to pour a proper cup of tea in High School, a trick he'd not forgotten apparently.
"Good for Arnold," he finally said. "Does that mean Helga finally called you?"
"Yes," she sighed, removing her glasses to clean the lenses with a slight frown. "I arranged a lunch meeting at the deli, I hope you don't mind."
"Another one? Guess I haven't eaten everything on the menu yet, might as well finish it off."
"I know it must seem tiresome and redundant, but the nearby options are limited. Besides," she placed her glasses back onto her face, the room snapping back into focus. "It's tradition."
The two of them agreed on that much. They shared some tea and munched on the French truffles Gerald had brought in, both pretty sure that they had not expected events to turn out so well. There had been too many variables, too many complications. And yet, the party they threw was legendary; people will be speaking about it in awed, reverent tones for decades in Hillwood. And what's more, they cornered and captured Fuzzy Slippers - Lila, she had to remind herself - thus ending a nigh on lifetime of terrorism and emotional harassment. It felt good to finally solve the biggest mystery of her lifetime. Closure was good for the soul.
But they had agreed the night before, what Hillwood needed was catharsis. Stage three of their plan had always been to fill the Pataki beach house with their friends and have a memorable time to give Helga and Arnold a concrete anchor to solidify their nascent relationship to. Now, it carried a new purpose. It would help Hillwood heal.
"You think Helga'll still be on board?"
Phoebe paused for a moment to consider her boyfriend's question.
"I don't see any particular reason she would refuse, but Helga has proven to be a frustratingly unpredictable element in all of this. I cannot auger her response any more than I can read the future in these tea leaves."
"Guess we'll just have to see. Girl's crazier than anyone we know, but she's bound to be on board a beach trip with my man Arnold."
"Yes. Big Bob might be a small factor but nothing to concern ourselves with. If there isn't to be a lot of unfortunate latent animosity between all our friends for the circumstances of this past week, a little recreation and group activity will be necessary."
"Just tell me when to start spreading the word."
Phoebe unwrapped one of the truffles from its lavender foil, delicate fingers plucking it free and popping it into her mouth. She practically moaned when she bit into the ball of chocolate, badly needing a little serotonin after such a stressful week.
Gerald snickered as he watched his girl enjoy her chocolate. "Plus, I can't wait to see you in a two piece again."
Phoebe almost choked on her truffle, stifling the uncouth noise she made at her lover's ribald suggestion with a hand to her chocolate-smeared lips. She swallowed the lump of swiftly melting treat, giving Gerald a sternly disapproving look. "You're out of luck, I only have last year's one piece."
"The one with the stripes and frilled skirt? Okay that's cute too. I'll live."
Phoebe swatted at Gerald's shoulder and chuckled, all to happy to be flirting with him again. The stress of the whole Fuzzy Slippers thing had put them on serious edge. They needed catharsis, too.
"I'm glad you will be able to settle for less. Really, I might be looking forward to this beach house trip more than anyone."
"Oh yeah?" Gerald spoke around a mouthful of truffle he seemed to be enjoying as much as she had enjoyed hers.
"Mm. I...do have to go back to university soon. My sabbatical won't last forever. And I want to make one last big set of memories with all of us together, including Arnold and Helga, before I go back."
Gerald got a little stone-faced, frowning slightly. "Oh right."
Phoebe felt serious turmoil. "We had to address this eventually."
"Yeah I know. Damn. Guess it might as well be now."
"If I had my druthers, I'd pack you in my suitcases and tuck you under my bed at my dorm. But we find ourselves in a reality where that isn't possible."
"It's a damn shame, too, because I make a good pillow."
"You do," she agreed completely sincerely. "So what do we do?"
Gerald shrugged. "I thought we agreed to date again, give this crazy thing another shot."
"Well...we specifically agreed to make love if you recall the events of the evening I stayed at your frat house. I didn't know if we agreed to anything else."
"Has anyone ever told you that you can be damn unsexy?" Gerald snorted. "Yeah, from where I sit we are a thing again. Unless you don't wanna be. Which would be a damn shame."
"No, I want to. But, the distance is what separated us the first time. It won't shrink at our urging and will only continue to be a big problem."
"Only if we let it babe. I can visit you. There's skype calls. All kinds of shit we can do to make it work. I want to make it work, girl. You're everything I want in a woman. Smart, damn smart, funny, cute, and even though you can be pretty unsexy sometimes, when you want to be you're a damn Aphrodite. I can't walk away from you, and I don't want to. Be my girl," he leveled his large, gorgeous light brown eyes to hers, very seriously and plainly proclaiming his feelings in a way that devastated her defenses. "Because I love you."
Phoebe recalled suddenly the dizzying thrill of being Gerald's girl. She wanted to scoop him up into a hug, press his head to her bosom, and kiss his eyes. Instead, she just blushed a little, and nodded.
"O-okay. I love you, too."
The tea and truffles were soon forgotten by the two old friends who had become inseparable lovers with the gradual passage of time, as they worked to express themselves by means other than words.
Arnold waved Phoebe and Gerald over to their booth with an enthusiastic, sincere smile. It felt good to finally be on the upswing, and to have his best friends join him and his girlfriend at their old favorite spot.
My girlfriend, Arnold thought. It's so easy to think of her that way. Like, the easiest thing I've ever done.
Helga was leaning against him, inside seat against the window. She had her hand in his lap, held in tame quiescence by his own. If he let her digits go, they were sure to fiddle with his zipper and start trouble.
She hasn't stopped touching me since this morning, he recognized. Her engine is just always running I guess. Who knew Helga was so thirsty.
Everyone but Arnold.
His friends quickly filled in, Phoebe sliding opposite Helga with a curious smile on her small face, and Gerald opposite Arnold with a much sloppier grin.
It seemed that the season was uncharacteristically Springlike for being late September.
"What's up, my man?" Gerald nodded towards Helga, who returned the silent gesture with a blank expression.
"We're dating," said Arnold. "Officially."
Phoebe slapped the table rapidly with both hands, bouncing in excitement, and clapped her hands together so quickly it sounded like one continuous retort. She let out a squeal of joy, lunging to grasp Helga's hands which had left Arnold's lap.
"Oh Helga! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you! You must be so excited! This is so exciting! Are you excited? I'm so excited!"
Helga grinned and shrugged. "Yeah yeah, it's real exciting stuff. Take it down a notch though?"
"How could I repress my overjoyed excitement at a time like this?! You've dreamed of this day for years and it's always been my hope it would finally happen for you and now it has and I'm just so excited and happy!" And then she squealed again.
Helga and Arnold and Gerald all winced simultaneously at her high pitched peal of exuberance.
"Phoebe. Calm." Helga playfully growled.
"Calming!" Phoebe said, still bouncing in her seat and not calming in any regard at all.
"Damn man, just damn. Finally got on board the Pataki train?" Gerald shook his head with a grin at his best friend. Arnold hoped he looked as happy as he felt.
"More like I failed to get out of the way of the Pataki train and she ran me over."
"Hey. Signs were posted. Not my fault you willingly laid on the tracks." Helga was reaching over to soothingly pat her excited best friend's squirming head.
"True. I'm the one that asked you out anyway."
"More like commanded. 'Helga, be my girlfriend.' Not exactly how I pictured it but hey, it can't all be love songs and poetry. Girl's gotta take what she can get."
Phoebe finally settled down and was merely grinning at the two of them without bouncing around.
"Is that how it happened? Was it over dinner? By candlelight? Was he holding your hand? Oh my goodness Helga stop holding back on me!" Phoebe sounded absolutely tortured by the wait.
"Actually," Arnold started to speak, but Helga held up a hand to silence him. She shot him a look, and something blank in her eyes startled Arnold. Something was communicated there, and he wasn't sure what.
"Yeah that's pretty much it, except we weren't holding hands. Otherwise spot on, Pheebs."
Why did she just lie? Arnold furrowed his brow, wondering what on earth prevented Helga from telling the truth. Maybe she's feeling more modest and doesn't want Phoebe to know we hooked up a second time before we technically started dating?
It seemed odd. But Helga was smiling at him again, shrugging her shoulders as if to tell him don't worry about it.
"What can I say, I was at a loss for words," he collaborated with Helga, slowly speaking. "All I could handle were simple commands. First time jitters."
"First time?" All three of Arnold's friends asked him in unison.
"Well, yeah. I've never had a girlfriend."
Total unbelieving silence greeted him, so he felt the need to clarify. "I mean, I went one a few dates in South America but they never went anywhere. And I never asked anyone out, so...yeah, first time."
"Except you had a fiancee, Football Head." Helga socked Arnold in the arm, hard. "Don't think I forgot that."
"Ouch! Shit!" Arnold rubbed his arm, the hit throbbing right away from Helga's retributive strike. "Right. Forgot about that. But I didn't exactly ask her to marry me, so much as it was mutually decided based on the circumstances that it would have been best to…" Arnold slowed his explanation to a stop when he saw the glares coming from Helga and Phoebe, and the incredulous look from Gerald. "...Nevermind, actually."
"Arnold," Gerald shook his head. "You're a bold kid. Bold."
"Your tendency to display at-risk behavior that courts Helga's wrath is widely documented, and extremely foolish."
"Fucking idiot Football Head."
That was a round enough drubbing for him, so Arnold shut his mouth up about her and made a mental note to try to never do it again.
"Well what's next for y'all, now that the damn thing's official?" Gerald blessedly changed topics before Helga decided to revisit her choice to even out the nasty bruise on Arnold's face with a second to mirror the first.
"Next, I need lunch. Preferably something greasy and terrible for me. They still got the Chili Size here? I could go for a chili cheeseburger." Helga flipped a menu open, perusing it casually. That was a neat dodge of that question, Arnold thought. Although I don't want to answer it now either. The landscape of their future was uncertain at best, and dismally confusing at worst. The topic had not come up between he and Helga, but that didn't prevent it from being the biggest damn elephant in the smallest damn room.
"I believe Gerald was inquiring as to whether your plan was to stay in Hillwood, Arnold," Phoebe tragically finished Gerald's thought, and forced the issue.
"I'm not sure," Arnold admitted. He wasn't. There were so many variables ahead of him, and he'd only just started dating Helga a few hours ago. Something like his permanent place of residence was such an unfathomably distant decision compared to the outright tumult of this week's events. Considering things had changed hour by hour for him in the last 24 hours until he'd somehow arrived at dating Helga Pataki, where he would be living was the last thing on his mind.
"Let's leave it there," Helga firmly butted in. "I just fucking land the fish and you want to know how I'm gonna cook it before I've had a chance to take my trophy shot. Back off with the inquisition, Johanssen."
"Hey, I'm just askin' what everybody's thinkin'. It's been all anyone's talked about since you came back, man. Don't blame me for being the first to wanna know."
"I don't blame you, Gerald," Arnold replied. "I don't have a return ticket bought yet. Let's leave it at that."
And so they did. All four of them returned to small talk about the unexpected turn of events while busily discussing the menu and their plans for this reunion lunch. Arnold felt like he noticed Helga glancing at him from time to time in an unsettlingly distant way, but dismissed the thought as the first time jitters and a slight hangover.
Eventually, their food came, and the four of them dove in with an enthusiastic appetite that could only come from being young and victorious. Phoebe's salad (extra anchovies) stank up half the booth while Helga got chili everywhere with her burger, and Gerald and Arnold both went with their old favorite with a BLT. Everything was as it should be, Arnold felt, like their old ten year-old selves had simply picked up where the adults left off, and things could start returning to normal. It was a profoundly melancholic, nostalgic sensation that swept him up away from the table, such that he felt as if he were merely observing their victory lunch from far away.
It made noticing the little hesitations and silent glances Helga kept furtively stealing towards him impossible to gloss over. Something just didn't quite sit right.
But as his belly sat full, and his friends recounted the various ways Helga had destroyed other venues with her public shows, and how Phoebe's Valedictorian speech had put everyone asleep with a record-shattering length of four hours, and how Gerald's brief stint as an illegal radio station jockey almost landed him in federal prison, Arnold neglected to pursue the niggling inconsistencies in Helga's presence. Though wisdom and prudence would have demanded his more serious attention to this seemingly inconsequential detail, people will willingly overlook that which is abhorrent or foreign to them; so it was with Arnold, ignoring that Helga was not quite right.
After their meal had finished, and they ordered the (Arnold learned) traditional round of coffee, the four friend sat and enjoyed the fragrant beverages with idle conversation.
"And that's why I'm not allowed in Canada," Helga proudly finished her story. Gerald and Phoebe clapped appreciatively, having heard it before, but leaving Arnold to gawk at his impossible girlfriend.
"I had no idea you guys had such crazy lives while I was gone," Arnold sadly admitted. "Gerald's letters left almost all of this out."
"What you don't know about us could fill a book, Football Head. You wouldn't like it, though, it has no pictures."
"Daaaaaamn, get dunked on, Arnold!" Gerald cackled at Helga's takedown.
"Ouch, sheesh. Girlfriend of the year right here," Arnold laughed along.
"Nah I mean, seriously, things never stopped happening when you left," she continued. "In fact I think you'll find that things never stop from happening ever. We're all pretty interesting people. The gaps in our stories you might not have direct hand knowledge of doesn't mean they're not extremely rich, extremely interesting stories of their own."
"I think what Helga means is that, you've missed more than you can imagine." Phoebe clarified. "Especially the F.S. chronicle."
"Right. That." Arnold dreaded this topic. That his former fiancee had been the most villainous person in Hillwood history was not a comfortable topic for him.
"Gotta be okay talkin' about it, man, it's the biggest news since your return and it ain't going away any time soon."
"I-I know, I'm just. Tired of it."
"Same, actually," Helga butted in. "I've had a lifetime of that bullshit in the last 72 hours and I'm pretty sick of it. I had to take her ass down, unless you forget. I'm still pretty fucking angry."
"Helga, language," Phoebe reminded her. "I appreciate your positions, really, I do. No one has run against this foe longer than Gerald or myself, and we're fatigued from the whole ordeal as well. But, it's vital that we at the very least close the topic for discussion in the right manner."
"What's on your mind, Pheebs?" Helga emptied what was probably her fourth sugar packet into her fresh cup of coffee, Arnold noted.
"Closure. Catharsis. Finish with a big grand finale, a big bang to put the matter to rest once and for all."
"What, like a party? We just had one of those."
"Not quite a party, although celebration should definitely be part of the healing process. I was thinking more of a retreat."
"The beach house thing?" Helga blinked, leaning back incredulously. "You're joking, that's still on your mind?"
"Beach house?" Arnold asked the two of them, lost.
"Sorry, man, earlier this week when you got back, Phoebe and I made this three part plan to get you to stay. It was kind of underhanded, but, so far steps one and two worked like a charm."
"Three part plan? Explain."
"They just wanted you to stay, Arnold," Helga snapped, her anger seeming a little misplaced. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. The party was the biggest thing. It was all their idea. Tall Hair Boy's actually."
"You didn't have to try to trick me into staying," Arnold started, feeling understandably upset that he'd been so manipulated.
"We realize that now, believe us. I learned my lesson, Helga gave me the verbal lashing of a lifetime for my underhanded tactics. I'm still trying to find ways to show proper contrition and seek forgiveness. If we offended you, I apologize sincerely."
Arnold went quiet, considering the facts. He hadn't intended on staying. That much was true. He'd intended on carrying through with his marriage to Lila, or at least seeing if it was possible. The dramatic note he'd written Helga was evidence enough he'd made arrangements to leave. And, thinking of what he would do in the same situation, a crazy plan to convince him to stay was exactly what he would come up with. And a party and beach house were pretty benign methods, all things considering.
"Apology accepted," he shrugged, and meant it. "Don't think a thing of it any further. Tell me about this beach house idea."
Helga stared at the side of his face, and then turned back to look at Phoebe, who began to explain.
"Well originally our idea was to get everyone together at the party to show you how different and messy everyone has turned out to be, and appeal to your heroic qualities to intervene," she started.
"What she means is they wanted to get you to meddle." Helga corrected.
"Yes, well, that's one way of putting it. And once you saw all those different threads of everyone's particular stories, we'd hoped that a few days at the beach house with everyone would allow you time to get started on helping some of them, and it would prolong your stay. Perhaps indefinitely."
Arnold leaned back. It was a pretty good idea. Play to the best of his nature while also maybe getting their troubled friends some real help. And he had to admit, he had seen a lot that he didn't like and had made a mental note to address once he had time. He just hadn't had time yet. Until now.
"Not a bad plan, Phoebe." Arnold had to give her credit.
"Thank you. Gerald helped with the finer details, so I owe most of the brilliance to his good advice."
"Don't be modest, baby, this was almost all you."
"Well, regardless who's responsible, how does it apply now that Football Head knows the plan?" Helga asked the obvious question.
"Well simply put there is no plan anymore. We just think everyone could use a vacation after Lila. I know I am exhausted to my core, my wits are taxed to their limit and I have trouble focusing on my studies. I can't imagine it's any different for anyone. So I say, why not continue on, sans plan, and merely enjoy the catharsis of a summer vacation with all of our friends?"
Arnold liked the sound of that. A beach trip, with Helga. A beach house bedroom, with Helga. Bathing suits, with Helga. A sloppy, wide grin spanned the length of his face, the kind he used to have when he was ten.
"He's imagining Pataki in a thong. Kill me." Gerald pretended to gag.
"Shut your hole, Johanssen, or Betsy'll shut it for you!" Helga growled. "I look amazing in a thong. You should be so lucky to catch a glimpse of this magnificent ass split by a tiny strip of black cloth."
Arnold imagined the image quite vividly, and felt himself ready to repeat last night, this morning, and the furtive stop on the way here.
"Our variety of immodest proposals notwithstanding," Phoebe cut in, "it was my intention to use the very same text thread Lila started to send out an invitation to everyone to join us at the beach house. We could use that opportunity to settle all the bruised feelings from the L.E. incident, smooth out old rivalries, and put an end to the negative drama that she stirred up with her deceits. Do you think you can procure Big Bob's consent to host that many people?"
"Consent? You must be confusing Big Bob for someone sane. That old miser hoards the keys to his beach house like they're The One Ring. Hasn't rented it out in years."
"Oh dear. That does complicate things."
"No it doesn't. I have a key." Helga shrugged. "Made a copy almost immediately after he bought the place. Who the fuck do you think I am? I've been going in secret for years. Brainy and I liked to take sabbaticals there to write new albums. Especially in winter. Nobody's out on the beach in the cold months. The solitude helped me write."
She takes winter vacations to the beach to write music, Arnold filed this new factoid away. There were so many romantic details he yearned to know, in his greed for Helga.
"Just send out your text. Tell everyone to bring their own food and booze and I'll set us up with the house. There's a cleaning service Bob hired to keep it neat and tidy we'll have to bribe to stay quiet, but, it shouldn't be a problem."
"Does that mean you're okay with the beach trip?" Arnold asked her.
"Sure. Sounds fun." Her tone was totally flat if not congenial.
"That settles that matter then. I'll start composing the invitation text right away. Thank you for being so understanding and resourceful, Helga!"
"No probs, Pheebs." Helga sipped her over-sweet coffee, and made brief eye contact with Arnold. Yet again, he saw that fleeting look of something that he couldn't quite identify. It suddenly struck him he was experiencing an expression in Helga's eyes that he'd never seen before, and therefore had no means to discern its meaning.
The unsettling truth was even further: he had no interest in knowing what it was. Everything would be all right, now that they were dating. The beach house trip would settle all bad blood, and there would be closure, and then they would be fine.
Everything would be just fine.
Helga found it was remarkably easy to fake being happy when you actually felt good. But she also found the realization that feeling good and being in pleasant, fun situations was not even close to the same thing as being happy. In fact the sad truth is that unhappiness is almost totally independent of more trivial circumstances. So when she said that the beach vacation sounded fun, she was breathlessly, completely honest, because it did. She had no doubt she would have fun. Fun, pleasantness, these were experiences you can have while still being devastatingly, desolately empty. People do it every day. It's not even rare.
It made the mask she wore fit so easily, she marveled at the comfort.
Of course she was no Lila. She was a fantastic actor and liar, no doubt, and just by being Helga she could easily distract enough away from the little things that would normally betray her empty heart. She was sure Arnold didn't notice a thing, which was really all that mattered. Phoebe would find out, eventually. She was too perceptive and fussy not to notice the slightly off way Helga laughed at Arnold's corny jokes, or the way she barely flinched whenever conversations drifted to Arnold leaving again.
But for now the coast was clear.
The four friends wrapped up their victory meal without much fuss or fanfare. Phoebe would go do her meddling, Gerald was happy to help her, and she and Arnold would...hopefully return to a bedroom soon. But otherwise, this uncertain future was pleasant, and felt good, and she was happy to fake her way through the whole ordeal.
Arnold insisted on walking her to her apartment.
"No, really, every time I let you out of my sight something terrible happens. You're stuck with me as a chauffeur for now."
Helga rolled her eyes and jammed her sharp elbow into his ribs. "Knock off the shining prince routine, hair boy. Like hell I need your scrawny cripple ass watching my back!"
Arnold mocked outrage. "Cripple?! How dare you mock my limp! I'll get you just as soon as I catch up. Where is my cane?!"
Helga walked slightly quickly in response, and Arnold cursed after her and gave chase. That's it, just, play with him. That's what he wants.
Being with Arnold was so damn fun. This really sucks, she pouted inwardly. I should be reveling in this flirty banter and horseplay. I should be eating him up.
When you know it's all a game, it spoils the playing. Even worse, she knew how it ended.
I will break up with him at the beach house. Give him a good time, nice happy summer memories, and then let him down properly. Then he can go, guilt free. And I can try to figure out how to live.
Phoebe's catharsis vacation was her only opportunity, really. This coffin needed nails, and that would be the hammer to drive them in. Afterwards, if he stayed in Hillwood or not, it didn't matter. They would have closed the chapter on each other, and she would spend a lifetime divorced of her purpose of living. I can do this, she steadied herself, as they finally approached the apartment complex.
"Let me walk you in," Arnold smiled suggestively to her, one of his hands touching her hip and immediately making her warm everywhere.
"No, that's a shitty idea. Just terrible."
"Why, afraid I'll get you in bed again?"
"I know you will and that's the problem. Brainy's up there. He's still cleaning up from my crazy meltdown."
"I can thank him for last night, then. I owe that guy probably a hundred beers."
"You owe Brian infinity beers, Football Head. You don't know how lucky you are he exists. If it wasn't for him, this would have never been possible. Which is fucked in so many ways, I can't even start telling them."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Arnold didn't ask with any anger, just confusion.
Helga sighed in frustration, exhausted from all this intense love-work and pantomime. "It means he's been putting aside his feelings to help me out since basically we reconnected in High School. The guy's been through enough this week. I don't wanna put this in his face, where he lives. Not yet, anyway, let me work on it."
Arnold seemed to be woolgathering. He processed what she told him carefully, but the thoughtful purse of his kissable, soft lips. Remember what those did last night, she thought unbidden, and flushed.
"I get it. I figured that something like that was the case. Well, i'm no jealous husband with a shotgun or anything," the word husband made Helga's heart skip, and then break again, "but I do have to say, if we are dating you should probably stop living with another dude that's in love with you."
He flashed her a reassuring grin. "Eventually, anyway. Brian's a good guy. I don't wanna put anything painful in his face either."
Still a magnificent understanding angel, too good for this world, too pure. Arnold you cinnamon roll.
Helga sighed, rubbing her face with a hand. "I don't even know if you're staying here, so, I'll wait on plans to move out for now. Call me old fashioned but if I move in with my beau it's gotta be on more than a hypothetical promise he'll stay."
Every word of this is a lie. It felt like swallowing acid to speak every syllable. Even though the sentiment was true, she knew that the hypothetical scenario where Arnold stayed in Hillwood and they lived together was an impossibility.
It plainly isn't going to happen. That's not how this goes.
Arnold still chewed on what she said. "I get it. Look, I have some things to take care of at The Sunset Arms today. Why don't you call me when you want to get together again?"
Helga bit her lower lip. "What are we doing tonight?"
She felt like the roguish half-smirk Arnold slipped on was a spear through her chest. "Whatever we want. Could catch a movie, I haven't been to a movie theater in a long time. Don't have a lot of those in the jungle. Or just get coffee and talk. Or we could just do each other."
His ribald flirtation made her flush and scowl at the same time. "Horndog. You get a little bit of Helga Pataki and can't stop begging for more."
"Who's begging who now? Did you forget this morning?" Helga flushed harder. She hadn't. "Anyway, I don't care what we do as long as we do it together. I'm going to be counting the minutes, so, don't make me wait."
I've lived every second of my life waiting to hear you say things like this, Arnold. She studied his face for a beat, and felt something horrible squirm from the depths of her deepest desires, an unbidden and deadly yearning that escaped her before she could stop it. She watched it hit Arnold like a ton of bricks, watched him recoil, and steady himself with an invisible, internal decision she forced on him with her selfish, sudden request.
"Arnold, can you just take me away from Hillwood and marry me? Tonight?"
All of the structure and defenses she'd carefully laid out, brick by stoic brick, to affix her dead heart to this deceitful plan to free Arnold of her forever immediately tumbled down from the demolition of her selfish desires. Internally, the nightmarish chaos of her mind was essentially so turbulent as to appear smooth from a distance, with the net result of an eerie intellectual calm that belied the insanity beneath its surface. She felt absolutely outside her faculties and reason, and yet, felt herself watching his reaction in intense interest. Of course he would say no. And yet she accidentally voiced her truest desire as if she was exhaling a breath. She could no more have stopped herself from asking him than she could prevent the sun from rising. It was simply said, and all that was left was to hear his response.
Helga wasn't even aware of the passage of time as he responded.
"Let's see what tomorrow brings, Helga."
She didn't remember parting ways with him, or walking up to her apartment, unlocking the door, and letting herself in alone. She didn't recollect how she came to be seated next to Brian on the balcony, sharing an Olde English and listening to Modest Mouse's "Heart Cooks Brain" at incredible volume from their stereo system. One minute she was listening to the words tumble out of her mouth, the next she was sitting in morose silence trying to figure out how much time had passed between then and now.
"I think I asked Arnold to elope," she suddenly said incredulously, handing Brainy the 40 oz. they were sharing for his turn to sip. "Why the fuck did I do that?"
Brainy, for his part, didn't seem to have any answers for her. He took a long drink, though, and passed it back. Helga brought it to her lips for a numbing swig, but managed to mutter, "I'm so fucking stupid."
"No," Brian shook his head, accepting the malt liquor back. He just held it. Somehow, he intuited that Helga was about to talk to him at length, and so ceased the habit of passing their drink back and forth to listen.
"So he took me to this nice fancy restaurant last night, and it was really good. Honestly I couldn't have done better in my wildest fantasies, and trust me, I've had a few. Then we took off and he took me to a hotel room, and I don't mind telling you, the night was something my bones won't forget. And then he gets me room service breakfast, fixes the busted hotel room, takes me to lunch, and now we've got a date for tonight. Everything's great right?
"Wrong. Everything's so fucked up, Brian. I overheard him and Lila, when I went into the house. He was telling her how he'd done his honest best and had failed me and all this other romantic claptrap about not being able to love me. He doesn't love me. He pities me, maybe. He likes to sleep with me, and k-k-kiss me, but he's just faking it all for my sake.
"And I'm faking it back, for his. I'm just pretending everything's fine. I agreed to be his girlfriend in some twisted form of playing romantic chicken, I guess. I don't know what's wrong with me. After I heard him confess he has only platonic feelings for me, I've just been on this wretched autopilot. I feel hollow. I feel gutted. I've never been this...this desolate in my life. Not even when he left the first time."
Helga put her head in her hands, totally unable to cry, but wishing she could. All she felt was a sort of anxious, terrible stress where her sorrow should be.
"This is so fucked up but I agreed to date him with the full intention of dumping him. I can't let him fake it this much, no matter how nice it feels. I may be a selfish, fucked up person, but I can't do that to the man I love. But I'm not so fucked up I can't dump him I guess. Jesus fucking Christ what's wrong with me?"
Brainy silently nudged her arm with the mouth of their Olde English bottle. She lifted her head and took it, to take a long, thirsty gulp.
He talked while she listened.
"Helga, I've been your friend for a long time. I've watched you pine after Arnold for our whole lives. I've always just sort of assumed you two would end up together somehow." Brain talked slowly, and quietly. Helga always looked him right in the eyes when he spoke like this, knowing every word was important. "You've been my best friend for years, now, too. I've helped you mourn Arnold before. I'll be here to do it again, and you know that."
Helga nodded, eyebrows knit with heartbroken affection for her friend.
"I can't tell you how to handle this. It might be that you misunderstood what he was saying or missed some context. Or maybe he's changed his mind. But if you're right, then I think you're doing the right thing. And you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. You're an amazing woman, Helga. I love you more than you'll ever know, I think. And that's why I'll help in whatever way I can with this Arnold stuff."
He offered her the rarest thing she'd ever known Brian to do in their long friendship. He smiled.
"You always have me."
Have I been looking at the wrong man this entire time? Helga wondered, gaping at Brian's bottomless generosity for her. She wondered if greater than her love gone out the door, was the love that she'd ignored. Studying the handsome, lean lines of his face, and the long narrow nose, and his orthodontistry-corrected perfect smile, she couldn't help but consider that the man she'd fallen in love with was the wrong one. She could love Brian. She did love Brian, in a way. He was attractive, and she would have no problem having sex with him. Certainly not. She was tempted to do it right then but the soreness of her over-worked nethers protested at the idea far more than her conscience bothered to. She was loyal to Arnold even if their relationship was a farce.
"Brian, when Arnold leaves, do you want to try dating me?" Helga finally asked him, absolutely certain that by asking, she was breaking a tremendous barrier between them, yet very sure that she had to ask. She owed him this much. Brian looked at her for a minute, and then took the bottle from her for another long sip.
"Yeah," was how he answered her.
And so she knew her future. Arnold would have his attempt with her. She would show him it wouldn't work, and let him leave her with a clean curiosity sated and his heart untangled from her. And then, she would finally turn to Brian, who had been there for her from day one, and stare infinity in the face with someone to support her. She was certain she could learn to love him the right way. She certainly owed him the chance.
They listened to their record switch over to Side B, the clicking of their turntable punctuating the silence between the two friends as their destiny began to rush headlong towards the inevitability of together.