Chapter 45

A Show and Dinner, Part 2: The Show

Sunset Arms

-ARNOLD-

"Authorities report no one was harmed as the super-heroine Temper arrived shortly into the incident and subdued the criminals. Once again, we are reporting on a daring robbery at La Coeur de Luxe, Upper Hillwood's most exclusive boutique, foiled by Temper."

I had just been returning from a snack expedition when I overheard the news report. My breath caught a bit; a robbery at a fancy boutique the very night Rhonda had taken Shaia shopping? I knew the odds were against them going to the one boutique that had been robbed that night. Even if it was exactly the kind of place that Rhonda would frequent. Surely I was worrying over nothing.

"Among witnesses to the event were members of Hillwood's elite, including the city's grande dame Agatha Smythe-Higgins and heiress and social influencer Rhonda Lloyd, who oddly enough is credited with subduing one of the criminals on her own."

"Hey, Arnold, ain't that your friend over there? The really high-strung rich chick?" Ernie asked.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Yes, she is," And if she had been there, that confirmed that yes, Shaia had been there too. And despite the fact that the reporter had outright stated that no one had been harmed, I was deeply anxious. Sure, Shaia was probably fine physically, but who knew what kind of emotional toll the incident could have taken on her? She had no experience with big-city crime, let alone super-crime. What could have been going through her head while living through something like that?

I remained glued to the news, and refreshing the alerts on my phone, for the next eighteen minutes, though other than a quick update that the store had been evacuated and shut down for the night after the incident, there was no word of any other developments. At the end of the interval, I almost jumped out of my seat when the door opened, so engrossed I was in my personal version of doom-scrolling. With a wave of relief I don't think I've felt since I saw my parents' hands stirring as the sleeping sickness took hold, or finding Helga alive and well in my own room after she escaped from Wheezin' Ed's captivity, I ran to embrace the returned Shaia. "I just heard about the robbery," I said. "Thank god you're all right."

"Yes," she replied, looking a bit shaken still (but then, who wouldn't be). "She would be the one to thank…"

"You mean Temper." Right… Shaia thought Helga was her goddess. Well, she thought Helga's superhuman alter ego was her goddess; she had no idea that the two were the same person. And now she owed her life to that very goddess. Whom we'd be having dinner with next Saturday night. This had to be the single strangest double date in history. "Are… are you okay? I knew I should have come along…"

"Do not worry, Arnold! I am fine. Your friend was quite the protector. I must admit I thought little of her at first… she seemed nice enough, but there did not seem much to her beyond the surface. But I am glad to be proven wrong."

"Yeah… I find that people can really surprise you if you give them a chance. Um, so, what did you think of Temper?" Maybe meeting the heroine in person would have convinced Shaia that she wasn't some lofty divine being, but just another person… albeit one with some odd physical features and the capability to do some pretty amazing things.

"She was… magnificent," Shaia replied, awed. "I saw her crush metal in her bare hands, and then I saw her fly off into the night sky. Only…" A look of uncertainty passed over her face. "I think I may have… offended her somehow."

"I… I don't see how…"

"She knew, Arnold. She looked at me and she knew. I told you, Arnold, her third eye can see the thread that binds lovers together. She looked at me and saw the thread that bound me to you… and it displeased her. Because she'd already bound you to Helga."

I'd been afraid of this. Of course the meeting had been awkward, because Helga had obviously recognized Shaia right away. And she'd been worried that Shaia would pick up on that recognition and possibly recognize her. And through no fault of her own, because there was no way she could possibly know the Green Eyes regarded her likeness as a god, her awkwardness had come off as disapproval. What a mess this was…

"I'm telling you, Shaia… Temper's no goddess. She's just a teenager like us, only different. She doesn't sense the threads that bind people together. She probably was just in a hurry. You don't have to worry about whether she approves or disapproves of us, because she doesn't have any power over lovers' fates."

"But-"

"And the fact that she looks just like your goddess is… well, it's probably just a very unlikely coincidence. Maybe your tribes' legends are based on someone just like her from thousands of years back, someone granted power from beyond the stars. And maybe details of the story got exaggerated over the years, and this person was built up into something she never was…

Shaia glanced back at me, as she processed my words, attempting to reconcile the ideas I was proposing with the ones that formed the very core of her beliefs. "I… have much to think about," she replied. "But… I am not sure that I can accept this." She gave me a hug. "Good night, Arnold."

As she retreated to her guest room for the night, no doubt exhausted both by the robbery and er potential crisis of faith, I realized that this was a subject that would not go away. And that there was one person who deserved to know what was going on.

South Hillwood High, the next day

-HELGA-

Of all the swanky boutiques in all of Hillwood, some stupid gimmick criminal had to pick that particular one to rob. What were the odds?

Pretty damn good, if you just happened to be Helga G. Pataki, fortune's own personal chew toy. The universe just loves throwing me head-first into uncomfortable situation after uncomfortable situation.

It wasn't so much that she's Arnold's new girlfriend – oh, don't get me wrong, that's a very big akward part of it all on its own – no, it was the way she was looking at me. At first, I thought maybe she recognized me as Helga; sure I looked a lot different, and part of my face was covered, and my voice sounds a bit more raspy in my alien form, and she didn't even really know me all that well to begin with, so casual recognition was extremely unlikely, but still, there was that slim chance that she saw through all that and guessed who I was. But no, that look wasn't recognition. I think it was reverence. If I hadn't know better, I might have thought that she was about to kneel to me. So, things were already at a monumental level of awkward, at least on my end, and now that was happening? Is it any wonder I wanted out of there?

So, that was my inner monologue for this particular morning, and you know what it's like when I get lost in an inner monologue. Cue collision…

"Oof!"

What the heck are we, positively and negatively charged ions? And I blame Phoebe for putting that metaphor in my head.

"Sorry, Helga," Arnold said, offering me a hand as usual to help me up.

"You'd think at this point, we'd've finally learned to watch where we're going, huh, Football-Head."

"Actually, I was kind of looking for you," he replied.

"Oh? Hey, where's the princess? Does she know you're talking to your ex behind her back?"

"That's kind of what I want to talk to you about. It's about what happened last night."

"Oh. You… heard about that, huh…"

"Well, yeah, it made the news…"

"Of course it did, superhero foils goofy villain robbing Hillwood's most prominent upper-crust one-percenters, I'm shocked it wasn't front-page material. Guess State Rep. Gladhand picked a bad day to be caught taking bribes."

"Guess so. Anyway, I… think she got the wrong idea from your interaction…"

"Yeah, she was acting really weird. She didn't recognize me or anything, did she?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I… actually, I'm not sure how to put this…"

"Spit it out, Football Head, It's not like I've got all day here, I've got classes and rehearsals…"

"But it's kind of hard to really explain." He looked around to make sure we were alone. "Helga… Shaia thinks you're her god."

I… don't know what I expected. "Say wha?" was all I could manage in response.

"Okay, so.. the Green Eyes have a love goddess named Xothipacla. Who just so happens to be pink-skinned, gold-haired, three-eyed, four-armed, horned, winged, and tailed."

"…nope," I said. "Nope. That can't possibly be a thing. No way am I this Shooty-Popcorn character of hers. I'm not goddess material. Especially not love goddess material! Criminy, Arnold, I'm like the worst choice to be in charge of love! I barely even have a handle on my own romantic life, you think I'm cut out to control the fates of billions of people?"

"Still, you have to admit it's a weird coincidence, your super-powered form looking exactly like a goddess…"

I rolled my eyes. "Sheesh, don't tell me you think there's actually something to all of this, do you?"

"I'm not saying that, I mean, I don't believe it any more than you do, but… maybe there's more to this whole story than any of us know."

"So, what, you're saying another alien hybrid just happened to be hanging out on Earth in the general vicinity of San Lorenzo a few thousand years or so ago, and the locals decided, hey, strange-looking chick with super-powers, she must be the goddess of love or something?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Actually, yeah, something like that. Not necessarily exactly that, but how do we know that there's never been anyone else like you? If you look at different mythologies, there are plenty of stories of gods who had extra limbs or eyes, or animal-like body parts… like, take a look at Egyptian or Hindu gods, or descriptions of demons and angels in the Bible… They might have very well been describing extraterrestrials… or humans modified by extraterrestrial means, like you and the others."

I wanted to argue, but I had to admit that there was a lot of sense in what he was saying. I am walking, flying proof that the absurd is possible. "Food for thought, I guess. So… what are we gonna do about this, Arnoldo?"

"I really don't know," he admitted. "How do you fix it when your girlfriend thinks God Herself has doomed your relationship to fail?"

Did he see me wince when he said the word "girlfriend"? God, I hope not. Or Me, I hope not, I guess. I have to admit, the idea of a whole tribe of people regarding me as their deity did inspire a shameful bit of pleasure. Being bowed to, and all. Offerings. Yeah, that would be pretty sweet. After a childhood full of neglect and failure to measure up to impossibly high standards, finding out that kind of thing would be pretty damn cool. Hey, Olga! So, you get straight As and win a ton of awards and everyone thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread? Well, it turns out I'm the god of a tiny indigenous Central American nation! Can't say that, can you?

Yeah, back when I was nine years old, that would have totally gone to my head. Stupid maturity. Well, maybe I can still get some Dad points out of it. I wonder if they make "My other daughter is a Central American Goddess" bumper stickers?

"Look, I don't wanna be the one that torpedoes your relationship, even if it was by accident. I've got one of my own that I'm working on, after all."

"Maybe we should cancel this whole double date thing?" There it was, the free escape hatch that I've been looking for! It's okay if he wants it right? If I was smart, I would take him up on the offer.

"No way! If you back out, she'll think it's because you're insecure about the relationship and it'll confirm what she already believes! No, we can't back out now." I said "if I was smart". I am clearly not.

"I guess I could see that, but even if the night goes well, there's still a shadow hanging over everything. I can't think of anything that would help…"

"What if…" This was a stupid idea. Such a stupid idea. "What if Temper paid Shaia a personal visit?" Such a very stupid idea.

"That might just make things worse," Arnold commented.

"Well, what if I make it very clear to her that I'm not a god by, oh, revealing a certain something about myself?"

He looked at me skeptically. "Are you… are you suggesting what I hope you're not suggesting?"

"It …might be."

"No," he stated. "I can't ask you to do that. It's a gigantic risk."

"This isn't something you're asking of me, Arnold. It's something I'm volunteering to do of my own free will. If it'll help you and Shaia's relationship, it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Seriously? You would do that for us?"

"The whole purpose of this whole separation-thingy we're doing is to break my fixation on you. And taking steps to help you in your relationship with someone else is another step in that process. Just think about it, okay?"

From his expression (granted, a lot of his expressions look like the exact same heavy-lidded half-smile, but I've developed the ability to tell them apart over the years), he seemed to be actually considering the suggestion. Finally, he said "Are you sure this is something you want to do?"

"As sure as I ever am of anything."

He shrugged. "All right, so… how do we arrange this…"

"Well, I've got rehearsals all the way up to the play to deal with, but maybe we could set up a meeting after the show back at your place? After the wrap party. Hey, maybe you guys could come to that? It probably won't be anything big, just some bowls of chips and drinks…"

"That sounds cool. How's that whole thing going, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, like making sausage. It's not pretty, but eventually it gets done. You know, Curly is surprisingly a really good actor when he's not trying to be an actor."

One week later

-SHAIA-

"Hallo! What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"

"I am very sorry, sir, I am behind my time."

"You are? Yes, I think you are. Step this way, please."

The shabbily-dressed man looked nervous as he followed the old man. "It's t's only once a year, sir. It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."

The old man suddenly halted. He turned to the other with a stern-looking expression. "Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," he said, "I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore," his expression suddenly brightening as he poked his companion in the stomach, "and therefore I am about to raise your salary!"

"I'm sorry, I'll- what?"

"A merry Christmas, Bob!" the old man proclaimed, heartily slapping Bob on the back as he danced a merry little jig. "A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you, for many a year! I'll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!"

For the past several hours, the story that had played out before us was one in which a miserly man had been tormented by spirits with visions of his past, present, and finally of his ultimate demise, alone and unmourned. While I lacked the cultural context to understand some of the references, the gist of it was clear; this was a story of one man's redemption. The players had proven to be well up to the task of bringing the story to life, to the point where, even though Arnold had assured me a number of his friends had been in the production, I was unable to determine which ones they were.

Now, as the scene was changed to Bob Cratchit's dining room, the entire cast gathered as the narrator recited "Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!"

"God bless Us, Every One!" Tiny Tim declared as the players all took a bow. The audience applauded, and continued to applaud as a pleasant-looking, balding man dressed in similar attire joined them. "Thank you, everyone!" he said. "I'd like to thank each and every member of our cast, each of whom have contributed with their very special performances." As he read off the cast members, each took their own bow. "In the role of Ebenezer Scrooge… Thaddeus Gammelthorpe. As Bob Cratchit, Scott Morgan. As Jacob Marley, Ken Ling. As Christmas Past, Rhonda Lloyd. As Christmas Present, Daniel Johnson. As Fezziwig, Robert Goldberg. As Belle, Sheena Kacjynzski. As Fan and Mrs. Cratchit, Marisol Alvarez. As Tiny Tim, Mickey Wachowski. As Fred, Brett Ross. As Old Joe, Stuart Sullivan. And, as Christmas Future, Helga Pataki, who I'm proud to say also made a very unique and special contribution as this play's director." With that, the grim specter removed "his" all-concealing hood, revealing Helga's face. She took her final bow as the curtains drew.

"C'mon," Arnold prompted as the audience began filing out. "Helga invited us backstage for the wrap party."

"Oh, I was unaware that there would be a party afterward…"

"It's fine, Helga said it's gonna be a short thing, just some snacks and drinks. We're probably overdressed as is. Have I mentioned how amazing that dress looks on you, by the way?"

"Only about a dozen times," I reminded him.

Arnold had not been lying about the wrap party being nothing special. Backstage was a dim, dusty area, in which a folding table had been set up bearing a few bowls of chips, pretzels, and popcorn, plus a few bottles of soda and a water cooler. Rhonda, sans her curly blond Ghost of Christmas Past wig, waved us over. "Arnold! Shaia! Over here! What did you two think? That dress looks absolutely lovely on you, by the way."

"So I have been told," I commented. "I found the performance very impressive."

"Thanks," she said, glancing at her phone. "Ooh! Mr. Leichleiter just posted a comment to Bleater. We were, quote, 'adequate'. Which, coming from him, is high praise indeed."

Arnold nodded. "Hey, have you seen Helga?"

"She's over there by the drinks," Rhonda said. "If you'll excuse me, I think I see my girlfriend coming, and I need to intercept her before Ken gets all in her face with the trash talk. They're gamer rivals, and if someone doesn't get between them it can get pretty tense." She hurried off.

"…basically, Chuck already did most of the work," Helga was saying as we approached. "so it was really all a matter of how to arrange the scenes. I was thinking of giving Tiny Tim a ukulele solo, but I don't think anyone would've gotten it…"

Arnold chuckled a bit… "That's a good one, Helga." I didn't get it, but apparently he did?

"Awp!" Helga replied, whirling startledly. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"…you… invited me?" supplied Arnold.

"Oh. Right. I did. That was… a thing I did." She rubbed the back of her head, blushing. "Sorry. It's been a busy week and I kind of forgot with everything that was going on."

"You were very good," I told her. "Very scary."

"Eh," she said. "It's the easiest role in the play. All you have to do is stand around ominously and point threateningly. Actually, that's kind of what I already was doing as director."

Arnold chuckled, "There's got to be more to it than that, right?"

Helga smiled. "Actually… for all the crap I've given the cast, they really did do a great job."

"Mind repeating that?" the one who'd played Scrooge, Thad, interrupted, holding up his phone. "I want to record for posterity the moment Helga Pataki praised her actors." Sheena giggled.

"Nice try, Curly, but you snooze, you lose."

"Well, I heard it, at least. And you'll never be able to take that away from me!"

"Curly?" I asked. "I don't get it. He has straight hair. Why would you call him such a name?"

"Funny story, really…" Helga replied. "See, back in preschool, he had this doofy bowl haircut that looked like one of the Three Stooges… they're this old-timey comedy act…"

"Yes, I'm actually familiar with them… Arnold has been showing me a lot of clips."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me. Arnold was always showing me that kind of stuff. Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, that dude who looked like Elvis Costello with the clock tower bit…."

"Harold Lloyd," supplied Arnold.

"Right, anyway, he had this goofy haircut… had it all the way through seventh grade, actually… and it reminded me of the Stooges, and I was already giving everyone nicknames at the time, so I named him after the Stooge with that haircut… except I had my stooges mixed up at the time, so I called him Curly, instead of Moe, which is what I should have called him. And by the time I realized my mistake, the nickname had stuck."

"Yeah, I always wondered that," Arnold admitted, chuckling. "I never knew there was a story behind it."

"Well, now the sordid truth has been revealed." They were so natural with each other, once they got comfortable. Almost as if they'd never been apart. I knew that whatever I had with Arnold, it would never be on this level. Certainly not without Xothpacla's blessing; indeed, this very union was an affront to her. No matter how I felt about him, no matter how he felt about me, our destines were locked on completely separate tracks, and she was his.

"So, uh… what's going on with that… other thing you were taking care of for me?" Arnold suddenly asked cryptically.

"Oh! The thing. Yeah, actually, I have to go take care of that right now. Thanks for reminding me," she said, hurrying out.

"You'll text me to let me know when you get there, right?"

"Of course!" she called back as she ran out the door.

"What was that about?"

"Oh, uh, I'll tell you about it later," he evaded. Curious. Suspicious, actually. What could she be doing for him? "We should probably get going ourselves…"

"Y-yes, of course…"

Things were getting stranger and stranger…

Sunset Arms

"Well, if it isn't the lovebirds, back from a night of legitimate theater," Arnold's grandfather greeted. "Was it everything you hoped?"

"Yes, it was quite an experience," I replied.

"Oh, I remember the first time I took Pookie to the theater. It was Fanny Rose Lee's Burlesque-O-Rama. She used to do this thing wh- well, I'll leave that to your imagination. Oh, by the way, you have a guest waiting for you. I sent her up to your room to wait."

"Oh, thanks, yeah, I was expecting her. Thanks, Grandpa."

This had been a confusing… well, let's just say stretch of time, and now we had a mystery visitor – well, to me – to deal with. "Should I wait down here while-"

"No, actually, this is for you, too, Shaia. I know you've been worried about us, and hopefully, once this is over, everything'll be clear." He took my hand, leading me upstairs.

"Arnold, what is going on? I am extremely confused right now."

"Don't worry," he said. "Everything's going to be all right."

He opened the door to his room and everything became even more confusing.

There, sitting on his little fold-out couch, was Xothipacla herself. Reflexively, I began to kneel, but she raised a hand to stop me.

"Shaia," she said. "I think we need to talk."

A.N. Once again, apologies to Charles Dickens.

Veganmama: Well, now Shaia's about to have an intimate conversation with her god. Who knows what's going through her mind? Me, that's who. And you, next chapter.

Jose: Yeah, isn't it funny how they both think the other is so much more confident than they are?

Rosali: Gracias, ¡me alegra que estés disfrutando la historia! Sorry if that was ungrammatical, my Spanish stinks so I used Google Translate.

Next: Well, how's this going to go? We'll find out next time!