65.
H: Did you save the day?
A: Not yet…
H: Oh my god.
A: What?
H: I sense a scheme coming on.
A: Maybe -
H: Saint Arnoldo at it again.
A: Would you wanna help me?
H: Fuck no!
A: SO you don't want to come over tonight?
H: …
A:Helga?
H: I do want to come over. I do not want to help.
A: Fine.
66.
As the day passed, Phoebe didn't have time or space to tell Helga anything. The second Arnold invited Helga over, she texted Phoebe and didn't stop texting Phoebe until she got in Arnold's car - and then radio silence. But she understood - Helga was understandably excited and worried about going back to Arnold's place. Last time she was there they did lots of - stuff. Stuff that Helga had only ever done with Jeremy before. And Jeremy really wasn't very good. And Arnold, apparently, was good - very very good. Though Helga had a bias, Phoebe believed that someone as attentive and sensitive as Arnold stood a very good chance at being very good at stuff.
Arnold spent the next several blocks texting back and forth with Eugene, confirming details, asking questions, and making plans. Arnold would pack those auditions with young hopefuls, he had to. He had to make it up to Eugene - he promised. And he fucked up. I mean, he got distracted. Well, actually he had been distracted for the last two weeks all together. He was still distracted - every time he relaxed even a little his thoughts wandered back to Helga, then he'd have to strain to pull them back to the task at hand.
Then why did I invite her over? He berated himself during his free period. He found himself, yet again, replaying scenes of Helga rolling over in his bed just last weekend. Remembering her hair in his hands - when she grabbed his hand in the hall way. Shaking his head, he'd come back to the task at hand. I invited her over because I am an idiot - a hopeless romantic. He smiled to himself anyway and went back to his research.
After school, it took all of his self control to walk straight to the Packard and not wait around for Helga in the hall. He leaned against the trunk and kept a side eye on the exit while going over his master plan for Eugene. After the QR code and the facebook group - and the presentation - he thought, maybe, just maybe this would be better than an ad in the paper anyway. And he could get it done pretty quick - and have time with Helga.
Helga. In my room, he thought, Helga in my bed. A smile slid across his face, all thoughts of RATS the musical gone. Helga, my gir…. I really need to have a talk with her.
"What are you doin'?" A voice rang through Arnold's day dream. Gerald was standing in front of him.
"Man, don't do that!"
"What? Talk to you?"
"Sneak up on me - "
"Dude, your eyes were wide open. I was waving at you." He said, indignant. "You're zonin'! What's goin' on?"
"Nothin', I'm just waiting for - " Arnold looked around self consciously.
"Oh - I see." Arnold blushed, so Gerald continued. "Your little girlfriend - "
"Not- "
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know - you still haven't fuckin' talked about it. Damn! You are so fuckin' stubborn. You two deserve each other." He had a sly smile on his face too. "This will be what, the third - no like fifth day in a row you hung out with her?"
"No - no!" Arnold insisted. "We did not hang out on Monday."
"Oh well, excuse me!" Gerald laughed. After a beat, Gerald leaned in, "So -"
But Arnold cut him off, thinking he knew the next beat already. "Yes! Yes - I'm going to talk to her. Tonight!" Arnold said, making the full decision in the moment. As he made that decision, he missed Gerald's face shifting as he leaned back. Gerald recovered quickly, though.
"Good. Good." He said, clapping his best friend on the arm. "Good for you, Romeo."
Gerald gave him another smile, their handshake, and turned to go.
"Thanks, Gerald." Arnold called after him and Gerald turned back to look at him.
"For what?" An eyebrow cocked.
"For pushing me," Arnold said. Gerald chuckled and turned around, throwing a hand out, waving the thought away.
I'll just update him later, Gerald thought. He's one sick puppy.
67.
In the car, on the way back to the Sunset Arms, Helga and Arnold spent the first two minutes in silence. Arnold wanted to kiss her when she came up to the car, but of course didn't. Instead, as soon as she got there, her face pursed and tight, he spun away from her and got in the car, reaching across the seat and unlocking her door. She swung it wide and sat heavily down without saying a word. So Arnold didn't say anything either. For two whole minutes - of a six minute drive.
Finally, "So if you think you're gettin' in my pants again, you've got another thing comin'!" Helga said, voice loud and reverberating in the car. Arnold's eyes shot wide and his face flushed. He turned to look at her, swerving the steering wheel, sweating immediately - the heat in the cab spiking.
On a dime, Helga turned again and started CACKLING.
"OH MY GOD - You should see your face!" She slapped at her knee, even reached out and touched his hand on the stick shift. Arnold sighed so big and deep he nearly ran a stop sign.
"That is - you are -" he stammered, almost smiling.
"I'm just fucking with you, football head!"
"You just about gave me a heart attack!" Arnold said, breathless.
"Why?" She asked, giggling a little more cautiously now. "You want back in my pants?" Bold, Helga! Too Bold! She scorned internally.
"Ha - ha -" Arnold said as they pulled up to a red light. "It's not that - That's not what - "
They both passed into an awkward silence, Helga cursing herself. Arnold was beet red, trying to calm himself down. He knew she was kidding but - but what if that's all she thought this was? What if - he had pushed and what if he was an asshole. What if this was all wrong.
Goddamn it, Helga! Why did you have to go in so hard - you've completely shut him down! Helga had turned to the window, crossing her arms, brow furrowed.
They had been doing so well, recovering from the stumbling and fumbling. But this one was a little too rash, a little too fast. From the outside it was clear that they both felt like they were the one in the wrong; it was clear that soon they both would be hurrying to fix it, let the other know it was just - a joke, a mistake, the truth is… But on the inside, it felt like something broke.
They arrived in the garage in silence. Helga sat still, wondering if she should just head home now. Ha - sorry. Thanks for the ride, see ya later, football head. But as Arnold climbed out of the car, into the junk lined garage, he said, "Come on!"
She shook out of her distracted state and clambered out, knocking over a broken hula girl lamp with a crash. "Ah -"
"Don't worry about that - it's been in here for literal years." Arnold barely looked up, unlocking the door. Helga dragged herself behind him, trying to hype herself up to fix her misstep.
"O-O-Ho! Hey there, Short Man!" She heard him before she saw him. Phil stood in the hallway like he'd been waiting for Arnold to get home, a wrench in his hand. "Welcome home!"
"Hey, Grandpa. What are you doin?" Arnold stepped through the door, making way for Helga.
"Nothin' just waiting for my favorite grandson to get home so he can fix the kitchen sink." Phil intoned. Helga let out a bark of laughter. "Oh and would ya look at that - you brought your little girlfriend along to help. Isn't that nice," he said, handing the wrench over to Arnold.
At the word "girlfriend" Arnold went red again and Helga scoffed but in an insecure yeah right tone that betrayed her embarrassment. In the split second of awkward silence, Phil took all that in and added, "Oh, haven't had the talk yet, I see. Well, that's fine, that's fine. Just - just come on to the kitchen. Heh heh heh heh heh-"
Walking down the hall, through the dining room, and into the kitchen, Helga was struck (not for the first time) by how clean everything was. In a weird way she would have expected the opposite - dusty, old, rundown. Her house was dirty - dusty - breaking. No one ever paid any attention to the little things that need fixing. Sure, they used to hire a cleaning service, but Miriam got too far behind to be able to make way for them to do their job. They won't do your dishes for you, they just clean the surfaces, mop the floors. So when things got too cluttered, too messy - the service refused to return. Miriam just shut down since then. Bob wouldn't ever lift a finger to help. Helga wasn't any better, of course.
Watching Arnld follow Phil into the kitchen, it was clear that this family took the house on every day. They cared for it together.
Once in the kitchen, Arnold turned around to her. "Sorry, this won't take long." He dropped his bag on the floor and opened the cabinet below the sink.
"Oh, yeah, no worries." She dropped her bag on the counter and leaned against the edge, near the fridge. She watched him position himself on the floor, lifting his hips to settle into place. She watched hungrily as his shirt started to ride up above his belt. She didn't notice at all that Phil was watching her, with an amused look. He let her sit in a reverie for a little bit longer then broke it.
"So - Pataki! What are you doin' here?" He laughed.
"Oh - huh - yeah, you know. Just here to terrorize you and your family, Old Man."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You want something to drink? And don't call me Old Man!"
"Sure! Whaddya got?" Helga opened the fridge up to inspect the options.
"We have some Yahoo sodas, some juice, milk if you're weird, water - oh, that powder lemonade stuff." But Helga stood up with a can of beer in her hand. "Oh! Hey now -" Phil sputtered, snatching the can from her hand. Helga cackled.
"It was worth a shot." Phil shoved a soda into her hands, shook his head and turned on his heel.
"You kids are gonna send me to an early grave!"
"Wouldn't be that early, Grandpa," Arnold spoke out from under the sink.
"Don't you start too, now!
Just then, Oskar Kokashka, shabby and rumpled, came wandering in. Near shouting, he interrogated the room at large, "What's going on in here?!" He stomped to the fridge and opened it, prompting Helga to step away from him. He did not care that she was in his way. He just pushed through. She took the opportunity to move closer to Arnold, sitting down on the floor, her leg pressed to his. He smiled to himself, working his way into the grease trap.
"Get out of the fridge, Oskar! That isn't for you!" Grandpa yelped.
"Hey - is that any way to treat the man who made you breakfast this morning? Heh heh heh," he insisted, even as Phil shut the fridge on his hand.
"That wasn't breakfast, that was an assassination attempt!" Phil said, hands on his hips. "And you clogged the sink - again!"
"Don't worry! Arnold will have it fixed in no time, Grandpa." Oskar sat at the table. "Arnold, you gotta fix the disposal, my friend. The egg shells barely went down this morning."
In a jolt of surprise, Helga felt Arnold twisting around to look at the man. "Mr. Kokashka! We don't have a disposal!"
"Oh heh heh heh! That explains a lot!"
Helga spent the next fifteen minutes cracking jokes at Oskar's expense to make Phil laugh while Arnold pulled gunk out of the pipes, changed a gasket, and put all the stuff back in place.
As he checked his work and cleaned up, Phil said "Oh and the hall light is out upstairs - could ya -"
"Can't I do it later, Grandpa. We've got -"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you and your gi - your friend," he corrected, seeing the two teens brace for the word. "You must have a lot to talk about. But Ms. Richardson has called me - from upstairs - 8 times already today - so -"
"Yeah, ok. Got it." Arnold scooped up his bag and looked over at Helga. "Want any snacks? Grab whatever you like." He opened a pantry full of chips and cookies and some mystery boxes and jars. Helga reached up and touched a jar full of what looked like pickled - well, something.
"What is - " she started.
"No - no not that," he laughed, his hand on hers to stop her. "That is a Grandma experiment. Last time someone," his eyes darted toward Oskar, "opened one in the house, we all had to evacuate till the smell cleared."
Both now laughing and laden with chips and sodas, the two trundled up the stairs. Helga pulled down the hidden stairs, but Arnold went to a closet. The hall was dim and cool and the air between them felt easy and pliable again. Helga leaned against the steps while Arnold pulled out a step stool and a fresh lightbulb.
"Sorry about all this," He said, referencing the light.
"Oh - oh, it's fine," she said. She wanted to say something more. Maybe she wanted to say sorry - for earlier. God, that was really becoming a refrain for her, wasn't it. She kept quiet instead.
The only sound for a moment was the twisting metal against the ceramic case of the light. Arnold finished the job quickly, but stayed up on the step stool looking down at Helga.
"What?" She said a little harshly.
"Nothin," he smiled. "I'm just glad you're here." Climbing down from the stool, he said, "Come here."
Without even thinking about it, she stood and stepped forward. He slid his hand into hers and squeezed. She fell softly into him and he kissed her.
68.
A few hours passed by easy; Helga choosing the music, Arnold clicking and typing away, occasionally apologizing for having to put on a RATS song. There was a brief interruption in which Arnold insisted he was too busy to come down for dinner, Phil argued back, and Gertie brought up to two bowls of gumbo. Or at least she said it was gumbo. Who knows really.
Helga started out reading on the floor, then eating on the hide-a-couch, and then reading again - almost on the bed. But she chickened out and opted for the second chair in the room, pulling it close to Arnold so she could prop her feet up in his lap. Now, he had his right hand resting comfortably on her foot, squeezing her arch every now and then.
She was trying to read a horror novel about a girl who calls her best friend back from the dead to solve her murder. But every little movement of Arnold's thumb over her foot sent a zap through her brain. There was no more focus left.
This was the only contact they had had since he kissed her in the hallway. Both of them seemed to have this buzz in their bodies that wondered what would be next. They both also seemed to be ignoring that buzz in favor of tense and mutual silence. The music and the computer, the only noises for hours.
Finally, Arnold said "Okaaaaay - I think… I'm done."
He was closing out windows and breathing easier.
"You've saved the day? The play is saved? You've ensured the future of the theatre department?"
"Ok - well - maybe, maybe not." He said with a smile. "But I am done for the night."
"Great. So what's the plan?" Helga said, closing her book, the pages unturned for the last 23 minutes, because her foot was still in his lap.
"Nope."
"What?"
"It is a surprise."
"You mean it's embarrassing?" She said, narrowing her eyes.
"The amount of effort I am putting in? Yes, it's very embarrassing," he laughed, gripping her ankle a little. They sat like that, just looking at each other for a moment, till Helga shook her head and pulled her foot down.
"Sooooo - what do you wanna do now?"
"I do have some homework…" he said unconvincingly.
"Gross."
"We could watch a movie, or," he was looking around, slowly sliding his rolling chair closer to her. "Go on the roof for a smoke."
"You don't smoke."
"But you do."
"Or we could," Helga started. "Do something else…" A heat was rising in her stomach.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we could - uhh - talk." He swallowed, throat tight.
"Oh," she said, sitting back in her seat. He started to panic, he'd said the wrong thing.
"I just mean - I've been wanting to," he reached out and touched her thigh, afraid she'd get up and leave. "I've been wanting to talk - to you."
Honestly - the thigh touch was a mistake if he wanted to actually talk. Instead of talking, they were both now exclusively staring at his hand on her thigh. Her muscles flexed under his touch and her breathing got heavier. Then his got heavier.
He couldn't tell if he was moving or she was moving, but his hand was further up her thigh somehow, getting into that perfect squishy part. The part of her thigh that you can't touch by accident. Arnold was flushed hot as he pulled his eyes from her thigh, up over her chest to her face. She was staring at him, a half lidded gaze.
"Oh my god," he said it so quietly. She shook her head a little, like trying to clear a haze.
"What?" she breathed.
"You just make me feel - so - I don't… I can't think straight."
"Oh," she was breathless, thinking she had done something wrong somehow. She started to wriggle and pull away. "Sorry - I -"
"No," he said leaning forward, gripping tighter. "No it's -"
"Oh - ok. Good." Helga stopped pulling away and instead leaned way forward, falling into him, kissing him hard on the lips. As she was falling forward, he moved his hands, wrapped them around both thighs and pulled her fully on top of him, into his lap. "Mmmmmm." She hummed into his mouth.
Helga gasped for breath while Arnold traveled to her neck. As he bit down and sucked at her skin, he couldn't help but think please be mine.