Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence for the man.
ICYMI: Helga's last days in Hillwood culminate in one last night with Arnold. After she leaves, can things get any worse?
Congratulations! You've made it to the final chapter! Enjoy!
24. For Happy Endings It Takes Two
He was up just before dawn, as had long ago become part of his new normal. Summer vacations meant morning chores, and he was rostered for today. He quickly changed into his work clothes, which really were more faded, more worn-in versions of his usual ensemble. In no time after that, he was at the back door to face the great outdoors.
As he opened the door, years of experience and muscle memory made him sidestep just in time to avoid the wild herd of cats and dogs that tore through the threshold in their quest for space and fresh air.
Like clockwork, he chuckled to himself before exiting to perform his duties. First, the chickens needed to be fed, then the goats, and lastly, the pigs.
Last on the list were the cattle. They were out on the field, so feeding them involved delivering the hay bales with the tractor and trailer. This was the part he enjoyed the most. He loved driving the tractor. It was slow but steady, and it always did what was required of it without complaint.
The Zen of the humble tractor. Its unhurried pace perfectly suited the bucolic surroundings, and the hypnotic clack-clack-clack of its motor resonating in the morning air put him at ease. Moments like this often made him reflect on the new life he'd shaped for himself.
And also on how he came into it four years ago.
The words from Arnold's grandparents were indelibly etched in his mind. The smaller details too: the tics and expressions of all those in the Packard. His grandparents delivered the news in a tightly coordinated way. They had their roles. One would be the bad guy, the other the comforter. One would convey the news, the other would soften the blow. It was clear how thoroughly rehearsed their speech was. They were prepared for his disbelief; they were counting on it.
"You do realize, Short Man, that your grandma and me aren't getting any younger," Phil initiated the back and forth.
"And we have to make sure that you're taken care of when our time comes." Gertie cut in.
"Your parents were supposed to inherit the boarding house and continue raising you once they returned."
"But now we're forced to go to Plan B."
Grandpa then spoke of a sizable insurance payout. Now that their deaths had been ratified, Miles and Stella would provide for their son one last time. Helpers of Humanity's insurance carrier could now authorize the payment of the Shortmans' claims. The money had been allocated to a trust for Arnold which he could access from his eighteenth birthday onwards.
"Well, that doesn't seem too bad," Arnold remembered himself saying, buoyed by the optimism that that was all his grandparents had to share with him.
It wasn't.
The long silence from the elders in the front spoke uncomfortable volumes that even Phoebe and Gerald could sense. Instinctively, they grabbed Arnold by whichever arm was closest and braced him and themselves for whatever was to follow. Good or bad, it was expected to be impactful.
"Your grandma and I were hoping we could tell you this later, Short Man," Phil continued his explanation, sounding both resolute and apologetic.
Before Arnold could push him for more, Gertie weighed in, looking at him with sympathy and contrition. "Listen, Tex. Losing your First Lady was already bad enough. We didn't want to stress you out any further."
Arnold was confused. "Stress me out…further? Stress me out…how?" he wavered.
It came out of nowhere – "We're moving out of the Sunset Arms" – and it hit like a sledgehammer.
Arnold knew from his elders' combined tone that the matter had already been decided and that no dissenting voices would be heard. Well, fuck that! He had to know more! This was his life: he had the right to know more!
"But…why?" he blurted out more loudly than expected.
As it happened, Plan B comprised two parts. The second part involved selling a 50% stake in the building to a property management company at a hefty premium due to the building site's historical significance. Phil Shortman would (gladly) cede the running of the building to the company. In exchange, his and Gertie Shortman's descendants would up to and including the end of time, be entitled to a cut of all future revenues flowing from the property. A further clause in the contract stipulated that all decisions involving The Sunset Arms would always consider the best financial interests of one Arnold Philip Shortman for the rest of his natural life.
"But what about us?" asked Arnold after hearing the explanation.
"Comes with the territory, Short Man," his grandfather replied.
On hearing that, the entire backseat went aghast. Arnold tensed up while Gerald and Phoebe tightened their grips on his arms. They were bracing for the next impact.
"Now, Tex," pleaded his grandmother. "We're not doing this because we want to, but look at the situation we're in."
"We're all the family you've got in this town," his grandfather reminded all present. "And no way will I let my only begotten grandson become a ward of the state when I'm gone!" he declared.
"Grandpa, what are you talking about?" asked Arnold while still being restrained by his friends. In retrospect, however, he should have seen where the conversation was heading.
"We're all moving to the farm with your mother's family," he heard his grandfather reply, plainly and without emotion. "They agreed to have us over."
"What? Aunt Esther and Uncle Kurt?"
"Don't forget Arnie," his grandmother piped in, not that it did anything to ease his mind. "Don't worry, they've got room to spare so we won't be imposing and—"
"But what about the people still living in the boarding house?" Arnold interrupted with more than a hint of desperation.
"What about them?" Phil brusquely responded. "They stay or they go live elsewhere, the choice is theirs."
Arnold was horrified by the callousness in his grandfather's tone. "But…but…they're like family to us!" he protested.
"Wrong, Tex!" Gertie countered as austerely as anyone could ever recall hearing her. "You're family to us. You come first. Always did, always will."
Many more questions and protests were about to flow from Arnold's mouth, but his grandparents must have anticipated these as well, thus…
"Think about it, Short Man," his grandfather cut him off before he could utter his foremost syllable. "What better time to really get to know your godparents?"
"That's right," his grandmother reaffirmed. "When we croak, they'll pick up the slack."
Hearing them being that cavalier over so grave a matter greatly discomforted Arnold and his friends. Grandma Gertie picked up on their unease and rebounded: "Kimba, whether you want to admit it or not, your grandpa and me are now on borrowed time."
"And no grandchild of ours is going to suffer when we're gone! Not while we can help it!"
He would much later come to understand their motivations. He would eventually embrace the new life and begin thriving in it. He would even thank them sincerely and unreservedly for their selfless love and devotion. But in the here and now, in the backseat of a Packard, on the verge of tears, while being comforted by his best friends, 11-year-old Arnold Philip Shortman could only bemoan in silence how life fucking sucked.
The problem with his memories was that they never came in bits and pieces; always in big, nostalgic lumps. No short episodes, just one epic movie.
The cows had been fed and now he and the tractor were trundling back to the homestead. All the while, he kept thinking of his last weeks in Hillwood.
His friends' collective disbelief.
The tears they shed over having to say goodbye to him, made worse because they were also informed of Helga's departure. Thankfully, Phoebe's story proved sufficient to allay any suspicions over the blonde girl's relocation.
In a circle of friends that included Rhonda Wellington Lloyd – whose love language seemed to be parties – there had to be a farewell bash for Arnold and for Helga in absentia. She went all out for this party which was held on Arnold's last Saturday in Hillwood. The karaoke went down a treat, as did the (country-and-western-themed) dancing game. But Rhonda outdid herself with the mechanical bull as another nod to Arnold and his new country life.
For all the fun that was had, the ending became dour when the partygoers once again became aware of the reason for the party. In the end, tears and well-wishing flowed freely for Arnold. The commiserations included farewell kisses, mostly on his cheek. The girls – including Lila and Patty – graced Arnold with their lips, though Eugene's peck would be the most talked about.
After the move, he kept in touch with Gerald. Over time, he would learn of the wholesale changes in Hillwood.
Phoebe would find common ground with Rhonda and Nadine to form a tight-knit friendship. Meanwhile, Gerald was destined to form a strong friendship with Wolfgang. These two were united through school football where they proved an effective tight end/wide receiver combination. The resulting camaraderie eventually developed into a fast friendship. Perhaps another contributing factor to the friendship was their mutual sadness over Arnold's departure, which Wolfgang would admit much later under heavy duress.
"He's not the dickhead we suspected," quoth Gerald during one correspondence. "He'll kill me if he finds out I told you this, but he always respected you for keeping him on his toes."
New friendship or not, Gerald refused to share certain information with Wolfgang. Thus, it was Arnold, not Wolfgang, who knew how many times Gerald and Phoebe had had sex since his departure.
Communication flowed freely between Hillwood and the farm…initially. With time, the frequency started waning. Every other day became weekly. Weekly became fortnightly. Fortnightly became monthly. Monthly became out of the blue. It was as if both Arnold and Gerald could see that drifting apart was becoming an inevitability.
And yet that was not the saddest part about severing ties with Hillwood. The saddest – and scariest – part was how less the waning frequency and growing distance seemed to matter. Was this a consequence of moving on in life? Adapting to the new; letting go of the old?
At that point, he had to put his thoughts on hold for he was back at the homestead. He parked the tractor before performing his morning ablutions and joining his family for breakfast. The meal was as lively as ever, with vivid conversations all around. Arnie even managed five sentences, which by his standards made him a fucking chatterbox.
Surveying the table, Arnold had yet another chance to appreciate how well he and his grandparents had embraced the new life. Grandma was a firebrand once more, whether in the kitchen or the fields. She was also active in town where she gave free biweekly karate classes. Grandpa too had reclaimed his verve and with it, his knack for servicing and repairing vehicles and machinery. Both displayed a renewed sense of purpose and a new willingness to make the most of their remaining days.
He couldn't admire their reclaimed verve for too long, he had summer training for rugby 7's at his school. It was quite the initial surprise when he learned that the rural school wasn't big on traditional American sports. It was too small for full-time football and baseball teams consistently, so disciplines requiring smaller rosters made much more sense. It didn't hurt that the school's rugby 7s and T20 cricket teams were top-tier performers in the county. Arnold joined the rugby 7's team mostly out of curiosity but took to the sport quickly. He was now the go-to for scrumhalf or fullback positions.
He would be the last to leave that morning. Aunt Esther and Uncle Kurt were off to the co-op to restock feed and other supplies. Grandpa would tag along for window shopping in the power tool section again. Grandma left for another of her 5-mile morning constitutionals. That left Arnold to gather his rugby kit and wait for his ride to the training ground.
He saw a car with tinted windows enter the farm grounds. Not his ride. For one thing, it was a compact car; he was expecting a pickup truck. This was clearly a rideshare, but why here? Why this farm? The driver must have gotten lost. It wasn't unheard of in a county where addresses were more often than not expressed as map coordinates. Whatever. Lost or not, they probably had no business on the farm, let alone with him. He paid the vehicle no mind.
Until he did. Until she stepped out.
He watched from inside as she stepped out from the back. She leaned back into the back seat for a bit of a kerfuffle. Eventually, she retrieved what was needed and began approaching the farmhouse on foot with a small bag slung over one shoulder and a kiddo in one arm. Still, she didn't look his way. The kiddo was monopolizing her attention with her constant squirms of protest. The little munchkin didn't want to be carried, she wanted to walk side by side with her handler. He watched as the handler sighed heavily, stopped, and relented. Her overall body language conveyed how used she was to the little one's infuriating behavior. By contrast, her weary smile – aimed both at the girl and herself – spoke of how she would always have time for her. She placed the sprog on the ground.
The little one whooped and hollered over her newly granted freedom. She was dressed in a pink-and-white dress and white loafers, which she seemed hell-bent on dirtying and muddying as soon as possible. She began the process by running celebratory rings around her elder.
The elder remained too distracted to notice Arnold's gaze. Her current priority was to keep up with and try to corral the pocket dynamo. Through it all, Arnold was impressed – and not a little bit stunned – by the patience on display by the handler.
When she finally succeeded in taming the little one, only then – only then – did Helga Geraldine Pataki look toward the farmhouse and notice Arnold Philip Shortman looking back at her in the most glorious kind of disbelief.
Helga had barely settled into her new home when the news of Arnold's relocation reached her, delivered via a phone call by the Footballhead himself. His confession was emotional; Helga's response was more so.
The ensuing back-and-forth could have been a case study for the five stages of grief. There was the initial disbelief.
"What do you mean you're moving to the sticks?"
"I told you, I only found out today!"
"But why there?"
"I don't like it either! I keep thinking it's all a big mistake!"
And so it continued in that vein before anger and bargaining eventually arrived, punctuated with accusations, sarcasm, and testiness. Frustrations were fomenting. Emotions threatened to boil over.
"Waaa-ow! Some fight you put up!"
"It wasn't my choice! My grandparents organized everything behind my back, then they sprung it on me out of nowhere!"
"And you just went along with it?"
"Helga," he replied more testily, "let me spell it out. Not. My. Choice!"
"But why Arnie! You hate the guy!"
"He's still family! His family is still my family! And I don't know if you realize this, but I don't have many of those left!"
"But what about your friends? You're gonna just up and leave them?"
"Like you're one to talk! You did it no problem!"
"On your advice, remember? Anyway, I always thought you'd stay in Hillwood so at least I could visit from time to time and we could still see each other!"
The memory of this discussion remained particularly vivid to Arnold, down to the pause he took for a deep breath at this point. He spoke with calm regret, allowing the interaction to segue into the bargaining/acceptance stages.
"Yeah, I was also hoping that would happen…"
"But…?"
"But how would I look if I didn't follow my own advice?"
Another pause, then…
"Dammit, Arnold!" Helga responded with a knowing sigh. "Why do you always have to show such integrity?"
"I said you needed Olga…needed your mother…more than anyone else right now."
"…and you now need your family for when your grandfolks croak."
"Yeah. I never wanted to think about it, but…"
"…but they're not long for this world…"
"…and my parents' passing kinda drove the point home."
"Yeah…"
"FOOBAWHED! FOOBAWHED!"
The kiddo exclaimed the words with gusto, pointing at Arnold as if his existence proved some greater mythological truth. She then retreated to Helga, latching on to her leg, burying her face in it, and refusing to let go.
"Jeez!" proclaimed Arnold, who was now outside the farmhouse. "What did you tell her about me?"
"Why, hello to you too, Arnoldo," greeted Helga with a genuine smile. "Pleased to see you in good health."
"Hey Helga," Arnold smiled back at her just as genuinely despite being overwhelmed by her presence. "Wow…it's…it's…it's just so…wow!"
"Always the linguist, hey Footballhead?" commented Helga. "May I assume you're happy to see me?"
He was. How could he not be?
He was talking face-to-face with Helga after the longest time. He was the picture of being gobsmacked as he took in the vision before him. Helga had developed very nicely; a healthy, natural evolution of the toned figure she had back in Hillwood. Her proportions defied conventional description, though they combined to occupy an aesthetic sweet spot by being neither slight nor too curvy. And her legs. Good god almighty! He thought they were great back in Hillwood, but now they had matured into even better specimens: longer and more toned. She'd ditched her pigtails in favor of a flowing, elegant ponytail.
She was dressed appropriately for summer in the sticks. Her light blue jeans matched well with her pink-and-white striped tank top, and her clunky black combat boots further highlighted the juxtaposition between her evergreen ruggedness and her developing beauty.
"So…" ventured Arnold. "What gives? What brings you two here?"
As he approached her, he wanted nothing more than to hug her welcome. Helga read his intent (not that it required much effort) as he approached.
"Oh, are you that glad to see me?" she asked wryly. Despite her smirk, she was surprised by his instant and unequivocal response.
He kept approaching, eyes only on her, preparing to hug her with all his worth. "You don't know the half of OW!"
He felt a sudden sharp pain in his shin where the little one had kicked him. The impact was hard enough to put him on one foot while he nursed the affected limb. He looked at Helga who looked back at him, amused and with zero sympathy. "Seriously, Helga," he yelped, "what did you tell her about me?"
Helga did Helga and seemed to revel in his pain and bemusement. "I dunno," she shrugged. "Why don't you ask her?"
He then looked down to face his attacker. He saw her pouting and glaring at him.
"No!" she declared before reattaching herself to the safety of Helga's leg.
Her stance conveyed that she had drawn her battle line and would defend it with her precious life. She appeared to have sensed dishonorable intent in him and her pout all but shouted "Not on my watch, Buster!"
"Hey, kiddo," Arnold ventured carefully. "Why did you just kick me like that?"
As she remained attached to Helga's leg, the half-pint muttered back: "Nunya bidness!"
The response took aback Arnold and caused Helga to snigger. After a beat, he turned back to Helga in an appeal for an explanation. Eventually, Helga decided he had suffered enough and answered: "What can I say, Arnold? She's very protective over her big sister."
"Thithtah! Thithtah!" the imp proclaimed with gap-toothed sibilance from her safe spot, beaming ear to ear. She was ecstatic that her association with the bigger girl had been made known, and cared naught about who knew it.
"Thithtah! Thithtah!" she repeated no less enthusiastically.
"So…where does that leave us?"
Arnold's question from back then received serious consideration. Visiting the boonies wouldn't be an option for Helga due to family and logistical considerations. Similarly, a visit to Alaska would be off the table for Arnold. Perhaps they were destined to drift apart, but neither was willing for that to happen without a fight. Leave it then to Arnold to suggest another out-of-the-box solution: why not become pen pals? At that stage, Helga was emotionally charged enough to accept the suggestion without question. Thus, soon after Arnold departed from Hillwood, the split couple would establish regular communication through handwritten letters.
Well, that was the plan. That was also over three years ago: they became dearest pen pals. More than that, they became a window of their world to each other. And also of their hearts. The zeal with which they corresponded never wavered. Every letter was conceived and written with thought and enthusiasm. Every letter was eagerly anticipated and just as eagerly received.
They were frank and open with what they shared.
Each was informed of the other's new life. Helga wrote of how she adapted to her new school. She kept her promise from the airport and managed not to piss off too many of her Alaskan peers; enough remained for a decent circle of friends. Her personality evolved sufficiently from its gruff, surly Hillwood version to be considered a significant improvement. But becoming more sociable didn't blunt her hard edges too much; she was still not to be trifled with.
Her opponents on the soccer field were willing to testify under oath to that point. She took up soccer on a whim. It wasn't an especially auspicious start. Her first few games earned her the initial nickname "Red Card Helga", which with time and growing respect changed into "The Crippler". More hard work and an improved grasp of fair play would mature her into a formidable and respected defensive midfielder for her school. Incidentally, it would also gift her the toned legs she now boasted. She must have remembered how Arnold praised them back in Hillwood. Why else would she send the occasional picture highlighting the limbs' development to tease him?
Academically, she was well above average. Now though, she had support from her mother, whom she discovered was also an effective tutor. Helga frequently wrote about how Mom was always there to help her with a vexing Math problem or offer constructive criticism over her writing assignments. Over and above all this, Olga recognized Helga's writing talent and encouraged her to enter creative writing contests. She placed in a few of them, and most of her submissions earned at least some special recognition. So yes, while Helga was always a good student academically, with her mother's guidance she gained a sense of purpose with her academic prowess.
And thanks to a crab fisherman who could tell his Rachmaninoff from his Kapustin, she also gained a sister. The man in question attended one of Olga's recitals and was moved enough by her performance to want to speak to her afterward. Helga relayed this particular development to Arnold in one of her letters. Subsequent letters would chronicle further developments.
A string of dates. ["I'm glad for her that she's back in the market."]
A string of hookups. ["I'm ashamed to admit that I know she's a screamer. I've heard sounds from her that I can't unhear…"]
A torn condom. ["Hindsight is always 20-20, am I right? It's also a royal motherfucker, 2 months after the fact!"
A fatal boat capsizing out in a stormy sea. ["They never found the bodies. 'Distraught' doesn't even come close when describing Mom."]
Support from Bob and Miriam from Hillwood. ["You won't believe how they've mellowed out. They actually resemble a married couple now! And not that it's important, but I've overheard that their marital bliss now involves safe words. Make of that what you wish…"]
She continued relaying news of her family life, sometimes including Polaroids of Olga showing off her ever-expanding belly. Then came the big day and the aftermath.
The birth of Nika Francesca Pataki. ["Mother's face, nose, and blonde hair. Father's brown eyes. Sister's badassery!"]
Living with Nika Francesca Pataki. ["And don't bother reminding me! Yes, I do see the irony of becoming a big sister myself. Don't worry, Footballhead. I plan on being a better big sister to her than Mom was to me, not that the bar was set high…"]
The act of being a big sister. ["God, the crying, the puking, the dirty diapers! And I swear Mom's secretly laughing her ass off at my discomfort. And she never misses a chance to remind me how much worse I was when I was Nika's age."]
The acceptance of being a big sister. ["Shit, man. How I hate her constant neediness! And yet…how I love her!"]
"So did I come at a bad time?" asked Helga.
"Not at all!" Arnold averred.
"You sure about that, Arnoldo?" Helga followed up with a skeptical stare.
"Well," corrected Arnold, "it's just that no one's home right now and I was about to leave for rugby practice."
"Damn!" she rued. "So much for a surprise visit out of nowhere."
"But I can make time for you, no problem!" he assured.
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah. I'll tell them something important came up, Besides, there are still two people here who'd be glad to hear from you!"
"But I thought you said there was no one home besides you," Helga reminded him.
"Come with me. You'll see!"
Arnold turned around and started walking away from the house. Helga followed with Nika in tow. Doing so allowed the older girl to view Arnold in more detail. He'd gained about two inches from his Hillwood days. Country life and rugby also played their part in his development. He was hardier and slightly bulkier in build, mostly muscle mass. His new build suggested he could sprint a sub-twelve hundred meters as easily as he could go six rounds in a boxing ring. Helga Pataki liked what she saw.
The route took them some distance from the main building to a small, isolated knoll. By then, Nika had become tired and cranky, and only being picked up and carried by her big sister would appease her. Helga had no choice but to relent. Thus, the trio made their way to the top of the knoll. At the top, the elder Pataki sister attempted to set down the little one, but the latter was having none of it. Nika Pataki remained in Helga's embrace, which Arnold observed as firm yet surprisingly tender. In any case, they'd reach their destination. In front of them stood the gravestones of Miles and Stella Shortman, having been relocated from Hillwood to their new home.
"Didn't seem right to leave them behind," Arnold explained.
"Yeah, so you said in the letter," Helga reminded him.
"Anyway…", he continued as he turned toward the stones. "Hey Mom! Dad! Look who's come to visit!"
"Correction!" interrupted Helga. "Look who's just moved into the area…"
Arnold's and Helga's correspondence also disclosed romantic developments in their new locations.
Helga was the first to broach the subject with news that she had taken an interest in a fellow student, a soccer teammate called Jordan Reyes. Being one of the strikers, he certainly looked the part. Other girls would dreamily compare him to a tween Diego Forlán. She had to look up that name but concurred with the prevailing assessment. He was academically sound, not genius level but surely a standard deviation or so above the norm. It didn't hurt that he was also conversant with a myriad of subjects, so conversations were hardly dull affairs. Helga would write about their dates and other social activities. She omitted the kisses they shared and the occasional make-out session, and the reason behind their eventual breakup after about 18 months as a couple.
Arnold too would open up about his romantic matters over at the farm ["And no, there are no farm animals involved!"]. He admitted it wasn't a top priority even after settling into country life. Regardless, one girl made a big enough impression on him to pursue something more than a basic friendship. Her name was Nadia Hayes.
Arnold summed her up thus: "Think Nadine, but instead of insects, she's heavy into music and AV."
He shared her love for music and hung out with her, eventually dating her. Unfortunately, music would be their only shared interest. She didn't like any outdoor activities, she wasn't heavily into sports, nor was she much cop in conversations involving topics other than music or AV. She was good at kissing and making out, though. They parted ways amicably and remained friends. Since then…well, he remained the Arnold of old. Sociable, game for all group activities, and by no means unpopular.
His was a simple truth, however, which he omitted from his correspondence with Helga. None of the girls excited him the way she had. None of them felt capable of engaging his heart and mind as she did. They were all fun to be around, and they had plentiful personality, All the same, he felt it would be unfair to impose on them that they be more like Helga Geraldine Pataki for his benefit. So after he and Nadia parted ways, he always kept any romantic advances at a friendly arm's length.
He didn't share this aspect of his new life with Helga, for he didn't want to guilt her over her decision to move with her mother. He did unintentionally allude to it in his most recent letter, which contained what he hoped would be a vague stream of conscience.
"Sometimes I wonder how something like this would play out in another universe."
That was six months ago; Helga stopped replying after that letter.
Good luck can strike when least expected. Sometimes its roots lie in thoughts expressed on a whim and just as swiftly cast into the ether. Unknown to Arnold, that one line in his letter proved fateful.
"WHAT?" he bellowed in disbelief. "YOU'RE NOT JUST VISITING? YOU'RE HERE TO STAY?"
They were walking back to the farmstead in no particular hurry. Two of them were, at least. Nika had decided that ambulation was for chumps and chose to remain being carried by Helga. She was perched on the bigger girl's shoulders, holding on to her hands for stability.
"Not a word of a lie, Footballhead," a nonplussed Helga replied. Her knowing smile betrayed how she had anticipated this reaction from him.
"FOOBAWHED!" chirped Nika from the safety and comfort of her half-sister's shoulders. Like her big sister, she had taken a shine to Arnold's dome.
As cute and spunky as the little one sounded, Arnold ignored her to focus on Helga. "But why? How?"
"One question at a time, Arnoldo. Please," Helga remained nonchalant despite the earth-shattering news she was about to share. "One question at a time. You wanna hear the why first, or the how?"
Arnold needed a brief moment to compose himself before answering: "OK…let's hear the how."
Helga began by reciting a line considered long forgotten by its sender: "Sometimes I wonder how something like this would play out in another universe."
The penny dropped instantly for Arnold. "You mean…" he began asking in mouth-agog anticipation.
"You never were one for coded speech, Arnold," Helga reminded him. "Always too pure of heart for allusions or innuendo. That's what I always loved about you, even if it made you look dense sometimes."
"Yeah, yeah!" Arnold responded, pretending to sound weary of her ribbing. "Any opportunity to make fun of me, heh?"
"And that's why you love me," Helga replied unrepentantly. "Anyhow, we're here because Mom found a new job as your school district's supervisor."
Her answer did little to assuage Arnold's surprise. "How on god's green earth did that happen? And why here!"
"And why, pray tell, shouldn't she?" Helga quipped back. She gave him no chance to answer as she continued. "She saw the ad, she responded to it, she got the job."
At that, Arnold's expression changed to more of a skeptical glare. "Really. She, in Alaska, just happens to find an ad for a position in the middle of nowhere…where I just happen to live."
"Yeah, well…" Helga faked an awkward response, complete with a coy sashay and an equally coy smile for extra effect. "I see how you might think this is all one big coincidence…"
"Helga?" Arnold pushed on, his expression twisted more in curiosity than suspicion.
"I might have had…y'know…some say in the matter," she conceded while pretending to wilt under his inquisition.
"Helga!" he repeated. To anyone unfamiliar with these two and their past dynamic, it appeared that Arnold did not trust Helga. The reality could be no more different. Though their words, tones, and body language suggested imminent conflict, they were really drawing out the situation for all it was worth.
"Alright! Alright!" she pretended to concede under duress. "So I scoured the ads for job openings in this county. It took three months to find a job offer in Mom's pay grade, then another month to convince her that it was a good idea!"
"And it didn't occur to her that I also live here?" Arnold continued with his cross-examination. "How on earth did you convince her it wasn't all about you?"
Helga flashed a self-congratulatory smile as she explained: "And here's the part where I wow you with tales of my persuasiveness."
"I'm listening…"
"I did my homework," she proudly proclaimed. "I sold her on the bigger paycheck and the lower cost of living."
"Yeah, just the thing a single mother of two wants to hear," concurred Arnold with a nod.
"Then there's the cheaper property prices and the lower crime rate," she continued.
At that, Arnold replied with a twinge of cynicism. "Oh yeah, no one here but cow tippers and the occasional meth dealer."
"Not to mention the peace and quiet," Helga powered on. "Everything a budding – award-winning – writer could hope for to advance her craft."
"And, I suppose, a safe and nurturing environment to raise a bratty little sister," added Arnold.
"Now just a moment, Mister!" Helga interjected. "That's my sister you're talking about! No one badmouths her but me!"
"Thithtah!" Nika reinserted herself into the conversation, proud once more of their familial link. Arnold could only admire how Helga had become a big sister to be proud of. But never mind that; he had more questions.
"So where is your mom right now? How come it's just you two?"
"She's out meeting with the school boards in the district," Helga answered. "They're giving her Ye Olde Grand Tour. Letting her get to know the lay of the land. Today she's at your school, and I was in no mood to tag along. So I hit her for cab fare to visit you instead."
"OK, so you explained how you did it. Now answer this: why?"
"Why? Why?" Helga asked back in an arch display of incredulity, seemingly offended that he deigned to ask that question. "Was it not obvious after your last letter?"
"But was going about it like Ruth McDougal in your previous universe the right choice?", Arnold asked in all seriousness. "I mean…I might believe she'd be willing to throw everything away and move to a new location to be with someone she loved. But not you!"
Suddenly, Helga came to a halt, causing Arnold to follow suit. Helga adopted a much more sober mien. Even Nika noted the change in the vibe and shot Arnold a look that strongly hinted at him having spoken unwisely.
"I'm afraid you've gotten it all wrong, Arnold," Helga began explaining in a calm, stern tone which surprisingly conveyed neither anger nor menace nor disappointment. "I would not uproot a life I worked hard to rebuild for something as trivial as affection, or because I happened to like-like someone. Not for something that could be here one day, and gone the next."
"You mean…?" Arnold wanted to butt in, however…
"No no no, you need to listen now, Arnold. Hear me out, please," Helga implored. Arnold could only nod back in agreement.
"I'm here for the same reason you're glad I'm here. You're glad I'm here for the same reason I'm here."
She hesitated, but Arnold held his tongue because he knew there was more to come. "
"Sometimes I wonder how something like this would play out in another universe," she repeated the line at the center of the matter. "You had a point, you know. A good one."
So she understood!
"We shared it all back then. We were happy together, we were sad together. We rode it all together. And, well…try as we did, we couldn't find another connection like that."
Oh my god! She does understand!
Arnold felt his hopes rising with each spoken word. "So you came here because…?" he dared to ask. If he was expecting a swooning declaration of everlasting love, he was about to be heavily disappointed. Her response was delivered more matter-of-factly than expected.
"Yes. Because this is a more wholesome, nurturing environment where I can develop as a person and as a writer," she explained while doing a full 360 to point out the blue sky, the clean air, and the overall greenery of the surroundings. "It's where I can take better stock of my life and the direction I want it to follow," she concluded.
Not the answer he'd wished for, but damn was it profound! And it was all said with a sincere smile with no underlying sadness. He was happy for this new person she'd become.
"Plus…" she added, "through all that, I want to see if a certain somebody will keep a promise he made to me years back in Hillwood."
Arnold was now a picture of realization. He knew what she was going to say, and sought to beat her to it. "…and if there's a chance that I can win you back…" he recited, "…then you better believe I'm gonna give it my best shot!"
Helga's smile told the whole story. She seemed both impressed and unsurprised that he remembered the line verbatim. Still, she couldn't resist ribbing him some more. "Oh, not bad! Not bad that you remember those words spoken years ago after you blew two loads into me."
Her directness made him wince in her wake, but really, what else was he expecting? This was Helga Geraldine Pataki. And Helga Geraldine Pataki didn't mince her words. All he could do was smile. And it was one of his happiest smiles in too long. The full-face toothy grin, reserved only for when he was well and truly over the fucking moon!
Technically, he still had to win her back, and that would involve some initial baby steps. But to hell with baby steps, he had to kiss her right this instant!
"Welcome back, Helga!" he exclaimed as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Unfortunately…
"No!"
He felt Nika's hand on his head, forcefully backed by her outstretched arm. She'd blocked him, suspecting dishonorable intent once more. He tried again, only to be met his time by repeated pushbacks from the teeny-tiny bodyguard, followed by a flurry of wispy little swats that successfully repelled him.
"No!" she repeated, staunch in her over-my-dead-body determination. "No! No! No!"
"Hey now!" Arnold yelped before backing off and looking at his attacker and her ward. In Nika, he saw a look defying him to try his shenanigans again. In Helga, he saw pure mirth. "I told you she's very protective over her big sister, Arnold!" she said while failing to stifle a chuckle.
Arnold knew his endeavor was hopeless, so he cut his losses with: "Let's get back to the house. My ride will be arriving soon."
They arrived back at the homestead having made lively chit-chat all the way. Nika had decided that the flat part of the return leg was worth undertaking by foot and was back to being an amped-up dynamo.
"So…" Arnold wavered, "…will I be seeing you anytime soon?"
"You'll probably have to take a number and wait your turn," Helga answered. "There's still lots to do. We're barely into the unpacking. I mean, how is it even possible? We move into a bigger place, but then we find there's less space for our things! What's up with that?"
"Yeah, I feel your pain," Arnold nodded in empathy. "Same thing happened when we moved here."
"Plus I've got an Advanced Writing camp coming up. Mom pulled some strings to get me in. She's been so supportive of my decision to become a writer. Maybe it's me, but when she started having my back, it felt so weird I almost didn't know how to handle her support."
"At least she's walking the walk," Arnold sounded back.
"And then we're visiting the family in Hillwood for two weeks while Mom plays her classical gigs. After that, I think I can find a time slot for you."
"Well, can I at least offer you a ride to the school? You'll save on cab fare if nothing else."
"Oh Arnoldo," Helga lilted while pretending she was about to faint. She switched to her natural timbre with the follow-up. "Smooth as a cheese grater."
"And just as practical," he added. He saw her deciding whether to feign laughter at his words, or just outright groan. "Hey, cut me some slack!" he pleaded. "I gotta start somewhere to win you back!"
She did cut him the requested slack, though not in a way he was expecting. The briefest moment elapsed between her reaching for his cheeks and his reaction to the gesture. However, when her luscious lips locked onto his, he was back in sync with time and space.
And Helga. Always Helga.
Their kiss felt way longer than the three seconds it lasted. During those three seconds, Arnold became acutely aware of every associated sensation.
The taste of Helga.
The warmth of her breath.
The electric signals all over his body charging from nowhere to nowhere.
It was a kiss, but it wasn't: it was so much more. It was an awakening of long-dormant emotions. It was a quenching oasis amid an infinite desert. It was flint sparks hitting bone-dry tinder. It was hope, it was the possibility of two hearts melding once more.
It lasted forever, yet it was over all too soon.
Even the parting of their lips felt magical. It was slow and lingering and oh so gradual.
"If you really are serious, then consider that your motivation," said Helga once they were apart. Arnold's reaction was all she expected. The goofy, toothy, ear-to-ear grin had returned as he reveled in her presence. Then came a sudden awareness, as he scanned the area briefly for an indeterminant target. He quickly found it. There she was. There was Nika, blithely observing her sister and the football-headed weirdo. Her head was lolling to the side, and she had no motive or intention whatsoever to thwart the big kids' actions. Her code of duty and valor from before was nowhere to be found.
Due to Helga being Helga and Arnold being Arnold, she knew the question lingering in his mind and moved to answer it.
"She's learned not to interfere when I make the first move," Helga explained.
"Ah," replied Arnold. "So…anybody makes a move on Big Sister, she's ready to lay down her life. But if Big Sister makes the move, that's fine by her?"
"That's the gist of it," confirmed Helga.
"You trained her well," smirked Arnold.
"Believe me, it wasn't easy," chuckled Helga, before continuing in a slightly more sinister timbre. "She had to learn the hard way…"
A loud honk blared out from the front of the house, yanking a potentially renascent relationship back to the present. The sound was familiar only to Arnold, who turned to Helga.
"That's my ride. Last chance, Helga. Still want that lift to the school?"
The ride to the school was in the back of a well-worn 1970s Ford F-150 pickup truck. Much chatter was shared, and many connections reestablished. This was the start of Arnold giving it his best shot.
But knowing Helga the way he'd come to know had led him to one incontrovertible truth…
She'd always be worth it.
THE END
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is it. You have reached the end of the story. For that, you have my eternal gratitude for seeing the story all the way to the end, you epic legends!. And to think it all started with a request from The J.A.M. for a spicy, fluffy (and short) Shortaki tale. The story then took on a life of its own as new ideas and new directions started creeping in. I believe it's called "Scope Creep" in Project Management. Anyway, I hope the ending was worthy of the preceding chapters. If you enjoyed my tale, please drop a review with your thoughts. If you didn't, drop a review anyway with your thoughts.
Speaking of which...
The J.A.M.: Thank you for your constant reviews, comments, observations, emails, and Discord posts. Most of all, thank you for you confidence in me that I'd do your initial premise proper justice. I hope that you, more than anyone else, are satisfied with this project. I hope too that you'll make good on your wish to write your own spicy Shortaki story. The passages you've shown hold lots of promise.
Guest: Asof ek hulle so in die steek sou laat. Ek het hulle darem met die middele en die begeerte gelaat om hul verhouding te hernu.
Some notes for this chapter:
You may think that Rugby 7s is a niche sport in the USA, and you'd be correct. But the USA team is a formidable one, having won their fair share of matches and tournaments. They've beaten top-tier opposition like New Zealand, Fiji, Australia, Great Britain (yay!), and even South Africa (boo!). Although the less said about their dismal performance in the Olympics quarterfinal, the better.
So too with cricket. When I read about a cricket field in Texas of all places (Grand Prairie Cricket Stadium), what's to say that the sport isn't practiced elsewhere?
As you can gather, I'm not one for happy endings in the vein of "...and they lived happily after". I prefer optimistic endings that don't spell things out, but in which we can leave the characters as they are while trusting that they'll be able to work things out for themselves.
And for the last time for this story, here's this chapter's Tidal list, and it's a doozy:
Most Of All You – Bill Medley
Coming Around Again – Carly Simon
The One – Elton John
Pilgrim – Eric Clapton
Lady Love Me (One More Time) – George Benson
She's A Queen – Ray Wilson
Touch – Seal
If It's Love – Sting
You On My Mind – Swing Out Sister
So that's it for Steam. What's next, you ask? Well, I'm working on releasing In Her Honor on WattPad with new and extended scenes. I even commissioned artwork for the cover art. I might republish that story here as a "director's (author's?) cut. Until then, that's it for this story. Thank you, and take nothing for granted.
Thank you and goodbye.