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21 year-old Arnold Shortman stood in front of the door to the Pataki’s home, his expression a grim line of determination. He’d never thought he’d be back here, but this was for Helga, and Arnold was going to make her happy, no matter the cost. And so he slowly raised his hand and rang the doorbell, his hand entering his pocket and running his thumb across the small velvet box inside.
“FOR THE LAST TIME WE DON’T WANT–Oh, it's you. What do you want, kid?” Bob Pataki shouted as he swung the door open with way more force than necessary, and Arnold had to fight back the twitch of his eye. “Aren’t you supposed to be out at school or something?”
Arnold always liked to think of himself as even tempered. And for the most part it was true. He had endured years of endless bullying from his now-girlfriend Helga G. Pataki, not even getting into other humiliating things like walking down the street in bunny pajamas, being stuck in a tree for nearly a whole day, dealing with Harold on a daily basis. There were very few things that had ever gotten under his skin. The only time he’d even come close to losing his temper was when he’d admitted that Oscar Kokoshka was a massive loser.
After Helga had finally confessed her feelings, Arnold was glad that one of the most confusing stressors of his life was no longer a concern. But a different problem had arisen quickly from the blossom of their relationship.
Protectiveness.
Arnold knew, logically, that Helga could take care of herself. His girlfriend of nearly ten years was tough as nails, always ready with a sneer or a razor sharp insult to cut someone down to size. She could beat Harold in arm wrestling. Mentally and physically, Arnold never felt a need to intercede on Helga’s behalf. She was way tougher than he was, and even if he knew how vulnerable and emotional she was at her core, he always thought of her as invincible.
“Sorry for coming by unannounced, sir, but I have something important I’d like to discuss with you and Mrs. Pataki. Can I come in?” He asked, forcing himself into his usual easygoing smile.
“Yeah sure kid. You want a beer or something?” Bob offered, and Arnold gently declined.
He’d carried that idea in his head, that Helga was impossible to truly harm right up until the day he met her parents. He’d seen Bob and Miriam Pataki on the odd occasion, and he’d be the last person to say they were pleasant, but he never got a look at what Helga’s life was like behind closed doors, and that was one wall Helga was determined to not allow her beloved football head to break, until nearly three years into their relationship…
“What’s wrong Helga?” Arnold asked as he stood in front of the door, a bouquet of posies in his hand, a sight that made Helga smile widely for a moment before her familiar scowl found its place upon her lips, although she took the bouquet gratefully.
“What’s wrong? I’m only inviting YOU into the veritable lion’s den of my life, Arnoldo!” Helga threw up a hand, her bow waving in the slight wind as she glared at the door, as if willing herself to have heat vision so she could disintegrate it with a glare. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this! Why do you even want to meet my family in the first place!?”
“I mean, if they made you, they must be pretty amazing people, right?” Arnold asked, and Helga grumbled something under her breath he didn’t catch. Arnold sighed, but leaned forward to place a hand on her shoulder. “I know you might not get along with your family, but I’m willing to try this if you are.”
“...I am…and at the same time I’m really, really not.” Helga looked away, clutching her arm, but in an instant that vulnerable side of her was gone, and she stepped to the door. “Just…prepare yourself, football head.”
The instant she opened the door, a loud shout of “CRIMINY MIRIAM YOU NEARLY BURNED DOWN THE HOUSE!” reached his ears. His hand shot out to hold hers, and she offered him a sympathetic look. As they entered the dining room, they laid eyes on Big Bob Pataki himself screaming at his wife as she laid there passed out at the table, an overturned glass sitting next to her. There was a pot on the stove, but it was bubbling and oozing a foul-smelling black liquid, and Helga simply sighed and turned the stove off, moving the pot off the burner as if she’d done this many times before. Arnold shot her a look, but Helga only shrugged and turned to her father.
“Hey dad.” Helga greeted. “I uh…brought my boyfriend Arnold.” Her voice was smaller, like she was hoping she wouldn’t be noticed.
“Oh that’s great Olga.” Bob returned disinterestedly, more interested in his phone than them, and Helga’s shoulders slumped. Arnold’s eyes narrowed at Bob with a frown. “Miriam burnt dinner again and I’m not cooking. You want pizza or chinese?”
“Chinese sounds good, Bob.” Helga returned, and Bob stomped out the door, Helga sighing and leading Arnold to sit at the table with her. She gently reached out and shook Miriam’s shoulder, the woman blearily opening her eyes.
“Oh, good morning Olga.” Miriam smiled, and Arnold’s scowl only deepened.
“It’s Helga. And it’s 7 PM Miriam.” Was Helga’s blithe reply. “You burned dinner again.”
“Oh did I? Oh, well you know how scatterbrained I can get…”
Arnold watched as Helga grit her teeth, trying to keep her anger contained. “Yes, I know, Miriam. I haven’t introduced you to my boyfriend Arnold.”
“Oh hello Alfie!” Miriam gave a tired wave, and even Arnold’s usual unstoppable smile was forced this time. “Do you know where my tabasco is? I could go for a smoothie.”
“No smoothies right now Miriam.” Helga ground out, and only Arnold’s squeezing of her hand kept her from just stomping away. “Bob will be back any second with chinese food for dinner.”
Miriam didn’t respond, and only laid her head between her hands, and in no time at all she was back asleep, leaving Helga and Arnold to sit there in silence.
Of course, Bob didn’t come back for nearly an hour, and he brought pizza instead of Chinese, which Helga only rolled her eyes at. They ate in silence, with Bob grumbling and Miriam barely managing to sit up.
“Pass the parmesan, Olga.” Bob grumbled.
Arnold didn’t know what happened, but he grabbed the packet of cheese and almost tossed it at Bob. “Her name is Helga.” He growled, and even he was surprised at the venom in his voice.
“Yeah sure, Alfred.” Bob responded, pulling out his phone and scrolling. Helga finally had enough and grabbed an entire pizza and stomped up the stairs, beckoning Arnold to follow. Bob didn’t even look up.
Once they were safe in her room, Helga groaned, covering her face with her hands. Arnold approached slowly, his hand gently approaching her shoulder. He was surprised when she lowered her hands to look at him, his own eyes widening as he saw something he’d never thought he’d see.
Helga was crying. Tears running down her cheeks as her shoulders shuddered, loudly sniffling as she struggled to keep it together. Arnold didn’t speak, but simply sat next to her on her bed, wrapping his arms around her and letting her sob.
“Why?” She finally said after a few minutes. “Why did I think it would be any different? I TOLD them you were coming, asked them to be on their best behavior…Why can they do it for OLGA but not ME!?”
Arnold didn’t have an answer, for once. He just kept holding her, and sighing as he tried to find out what to say to help.
Finally, he spoke. “This is how it’s been for a long time, huh?” He asked. She only offered a small nod in return, her usual proud stoic face so soft and vulnerable that all he wanted to do was whisk her away to the boarding house and take her away. “I don’t know why they’re like this, Helga. I don’t know what to say that could help. But…I love you, Helga. And I promise, wherever our lives take us, you will be treated with respect.”
“Oh, Arnold…” She wrapped her arms around his neck, almost crawling into his lap. And Arnold just held her there, keeping her company. They spent the next hour eating pizza and talking until Helga reassured him that she was fine, gave him a kiss, and sent him home.
“Ah, looking at Olga’s trophy case, are ya kid?” Bob cackled as Arnold stared at the shelves on shelves of trophies. “I tell ya she’s a prodigy, great kid, doing great things!” He clapped Arnold on the shoulder, and it took everything in Arnold’s power to not just shout. “MIRIAM, wake up will ya?” He shouted into the house, and Arnold could hear Miriam stirring from the living room.
“Yeah, she’s…really accomplished.” Arnold didn’t like the idea of jumping to conclusions about someone’s character, but it was all he had ever had to work with regarding the Patakis. Helga herself had told him that the family sweeps things under the rug and doesn’t confront their issues. So he had been forced to put the pieces together himself, and if he had to name the biggest one, it was staring him right in the face here.
Stopping his analytical instincts for a moment, he stepped into the kitchen. Miriam had blinked herself awake, and Bob was pulling up a chair as Arnold sat down. “Let’s make this quick, Alfred. The game starts in twenty minutes.”
‘Is that all they care about? For all they know I could be telling them Helga’s been hurt or in trouble!’ But Arnold silenced that thought almost immediately. It’s not like they know what he was here for.
So Arnold took a deep sigh and began to speak. “I’m coming here to talk about your daughter.”
“Oh yeah, Olga’s a real gem, I tell ya. She’s in Texas right now you know, starting up her own charity. Ah, she’s the best.” Arnold’s fist clenched under the table, his eyes narrowed.
“Yes, but I’m–”
“Ah, but she’s always been the best, a natural winner, a natural Pataki, that’s our Olga!” Bob thundered on as if Arnold weren’t even there. He’d been host to all of these stories at least once, and when Bob had pulled out the family photo album to enhance his storytelling, Arnold had been the only one to notice that Helga was never smiling in them.
Miriam nodded, always sounding a bit more lucid when Olga was brought up. “We took her to ride a pony one year, and she was so good at it that next year she’d won her first junior equestrian event!”
“Haha, that’s my girl!” Bob cheered. “I swear she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. She always had me wrapped around her little finger. Real daddy’s girl.” Bob stood up, and Arnold’s eyes lit up as he thought he’d have an opportunity to interject, only for him to grab a beer from the fridge and crack it open, and slide another one to him. He gently pushed it away.
“That’s all well and good but–”
“Oh, and there was when she performed her first piano recital! She played beautifully! It was fantastic, our sweet little girl played like a professional!” Miriam interrupted this time, and Arnold’s hand clenched into a fist under the table.
Oh yes, Olga was the one member of the family Arnold knew about. Even despite the times when her life had interceded with Helga’s, and Arnold had to get her to see reason, one thing jumped out at him in his mind…
Helga stormed down the street, idly kicking a can as she struggled to get her thoughts together beyond blind rage and jealousy. Her feet carried her down the street as she struggled to keep herself together. “Stupid family. Stupid Olga. They never change. How stupid was I to actually think things would get better? It's the same every year. Why should things change just because I’m eighteen now?” She growled, before finally noticing where her feet had carried her.
The boarding house stood before her, her eyes wide as she stared at it like a beacon of hope. Her face twisted into a tortured scowl, her face turning red, before she ran to the fire escape and began climbing. She would normally never do this, but today…today was difficult. She climbed the fire escape and quickly jumped up the metal ladders to Arnold’s roof. She looked around quickly, not seeing Arnold, despite many Fourth of July decorations already being up. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she retrieved her locket and stared at the picture of her beloved, sighing dramatically.
“Oh Arnold. How I wish you were here with me, to soothe my aching heart. But alas, I cannot burden your pure thanksgiving with my rotten presence! Nothing would please me more than to join your family, to be a part of it, and to maybe one day, become part of it truly. To be MRS. Arnold Shortman! But…I cannot tell you of the burdens of my heart, not on this special day, when you spend the day being thankful for the family you’ve fought so hard for!” She performed a little spin, but when she finished it, her football-headed paramour was staring at her, that familiar, knowing look on his face that said it all. Her face turned bright red and she almost shoved her locket back into place. “A-Arnold! Wh-What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” Was Arnold’s simple reply, although there was a tinge of humor to it. “I’m helping set the table for thanksgiving. What are you doing here?” There was no malice to the question, there never had been with him, just idle curiosity.
“M-Me? I’m…going for a walk, yeah!” It wasn’t completely a lie, but the second it escaped her lips, Arnold looked at her, that smirk not moving an inch off his face. “...Okay, that’s only half the truth. I WAS going for a walk, but I ended up here because…because it’s always the place I think of when I need to clear my head.”
Arnold’s face hardened a little. “Trouble with your family?” He asked, and Helga almost swooned when she saw that edge of protectiveness in his eyes. But she simply scoffed and looked away.
“Just the same thing as always, Football Head.” She sneered. “Bob and Miriam treating Olga like she’s so perfect, Olga soaking up all the attention, and me just on the periphery, used as nothing but a gopher. “Baby sister, bring me this! Baby sister, bring me that!” So when we all sat at the table and tried to be grateful, I…couldn’t do it.” She sighed, shoulders slumping harshly. “I just yelled at them and came back here. I…I just needed to clear my head. Now that I’m older, I doubt they’re even looking for me like they did back when we were 9.” She rubs her forearm with a hand, avoiding her boyfriend’s eyes. “I…don’t know what to do. And when I don’t know what to do I…come see you.”
At that admission, Arnold smiled, stepping forward and taking her hand. “Well, I do have one solution.” He lifted her hand and bent his head down to kiss her knuckles. “Do you want to join me for Thanksgiving?”
Helga’s eyes went wide, her entire face turning so red Arnold was sure that steam was going to shoot out of her ears, a fact that made her look even more adorable in his eyes. “Y-Your thanksgiving? I couldn’t–! I mean…I don’t need your pity, football head!”
Arnold just continued to smile, his attention taken up entirely by his lovely girlfriend. “It's not pity, Helga. My parents actually wanted to ask you earlier, but they assumed you had plans.” Arnold blinked, as if realizing something. “Are you…afraid of my parents, Helga?”
“Me? No! Of course not! What series of synapses misfired in your brain to give you that idea, Arnoldo?” She growled, but Arnold just kept a hold of her hand, staring at her with all of the concern he had in his heart. As he kept it up, her face softened, and he allowed himself a little mental victory jig as he saw her walls begin to crumble. “M-Maybe…I just want them to like me, and I’m worried that…well, I’ll be myself.”
Arnold smiled, stepping forward. “You’ve shown your true self to my family for years, Helga. They all like you, especially Grandma. You have nothing to be afraid of. We’re not kids anymore, you know.” He then got a look that Helga was honestly afraid of. A look that told Helga she was going to be in a good kind of trouble. But just as soon as it came, it left. “C’mon, just spend the time with us, okay?”
“...Fine, just to get you to stop giving me those puppy dog eyes Arnold, criminy!” Helga smiled, despite the blush. Arnold let out a little whoop of victory, leaning forward to peck Helga on the cheek before rushing downstairs. Not even five minutes later, Stella and Miles emerged onto the roof, smiling wide and hugging her. A quick phone call and Helga was off the hook for running off. Just as she figured, Bob had simply snorted “She’s eighteen, she can do whatever she wants.”
Despite her misgivings, Helga had a wonderful time. Arnold’s parents had taken to her like a duck to water, almost giving her too much attention. Grandma and Grandpa simply grinned and ruffled her hair, and Arnold spent the entire time glued to her hip, smiling and helping her navigate the fusion between Thanksgiving and Independence Day, offering her either Turkey or hotdogs and burgers.
“Alright kids, it's time for the sparklers!” Miles called, dressed as Ben Franklin, passing a sparkler to everyone. Arnold and Helga stood next to each other, watching the festivities as Grandma Gertie cackled and lit the first firework. Arnold looked up, smiling at the display, a sight that made Helga’s heart skip a beat. Without even thinking, she raised her own sparkler and slowly drew a heart around him, tracing the image of her locket as if wanting to capture that wondrous smile forever. It took Arnold three hearts for him to notice, and his face flushed, making Helga giggle.
“Hey, Arnold…thanks.” Helga says slowly. “Your family is…really something special.” And she meant it, he could tell. He didn’t want to compare their families, but he could tell she wasn’t done. “I uh…I really don’t want to go, Arnold. I don’t know how much longer I can take it! It’s not just the holidays, it’s every year, criminy!” She groaned.
“Maybe…you don’t have to.” Arnold smiled, looking at her with hope in his eyes. “You’re eighteen now Helga. You don’t have to stay there any more.”
“Yeah sure, but where am I going to go? I don’t exactly have a job, and I know the rent has been rising lately.” Helga snorted, clearly thinking his idea was ridiculous on principle.
“Well, I have some connections to part-time jobs. And as for a place with cheap rent, I know one place. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than you might think.”
“Oh yeah? And where would that be, Football Head?” She scoffed.
“Right here at the boarding house.” Arnold answered, and Helga could swear her heart stopped. She was looking at him in utter shock, eyes wide, and all she could think of was just how the firework’s light framed the hopeful look on his face.
“Are you asking me to move in with you?” She asked, her voice shaking like a leaf, completely taken off-guard.
Arnold scratched the back of his head nervously. “It’s not like that!” He coughed. “You’d still have a room separate from mine, but we’d be in the same building. I think it’d be a little…awkward to share a bedroom when my parents and grandparents are still in the house.” He noticed her beginning to shrink back into herself, when he grabbed her hand, looking deeply into her blue eyes. “Helga…I like you a lot. I used to think that I could help you deal with your family, but one thing I’ve noticed over these past years is sometimes…there are people you can’t help. And the healthiest thing for you to do is…distance yourself. So if you need distance from your family, we can provide it.” He squeezed, and Helga just couldn’t help but notice how pleading his gaze was.
It didn’t take long for her to make her decision. “Alright football head. But after new year’s okay? I don’t want them to think I’m leaving just because I spent one day with you.”
Arnold beamed, and Helga wished she could just bottle the moonlight in his smile and keep it forever. “Whatever you say Helga.”
“Anyway kid, what did you want to talk to us about?” Bob finally asked. Arnold snapped out of his walk down memory lane now that Bob and Miriam had stopped prattling on. He sighed deeply, calling on his seemingly infinite well of patience and optimism.
“I’m here to talk about your daughter.” He declared, eyes boring a hole in Bob’s head.
Big Bob snorted. “Olga? Isn’t she a little old for you, kid? I admire you hutzpah, but you’re out of your league.”
Arnold grit her teeth. “I’m talking about your younger daughter.”
“Oh Criminy, what’d she break now?” Bob groaned, already reaching for his checkbook. “Whatever it is, I’ll cover it. Just don’t take this to court, okay? Got enough headaches.”
“That’s not–”
But Bob just kept barreling forward, not paying an ounce of attention. “That girl’s been a pain in my keister since the day she was born. Scowling, stomping around, staying in her room all day. She’s still my daughter, but she’s no Olga.”
“She was such a difficult baby.” Miriam groaned, and Arnold took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from losing his temper. “Olga was so easy to raise, so sweet, barely ever cried.” Arnold’s hands clenched so hard he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms hard enough he could swear he broke skin.
“Yeah, a real bad seed, that girl. All I wanted was a son, someone to carry on the Pataki name, but we were stuck with her.” Arnold saw red at that moment, all the patience and optimism sucked right out of him.
“All this talk, my head hurts. I need a smoothie.” Miriam sighed, holding her head.
WHAM! Arnold’s fist hit the table. Bob and Miriam stopped in their tracks, eyes wide as Arnold stood up, his eyes narrowed with barely restrained fury.
“You’re wrong. You don’t know Helga at all. She’s not a burden, not a bad seed, and not a ‘difficult’ child. She’s twenty-one, and the smartest, kindest, most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. Her heart is so full of love, but you never saw it because all you could see was HER!” He finally let the anger reach his voice as he gestured towards the trophy room. Helga hated that room, and would tell him stories of being sat on a stool to practice one thing or another while Bob lectured her about Olga winning top prize without even trying. By the time she told him about the spelling bee, he hated that room too. “Just because she’s not Olga doesn’t mean she’s something you can just throw away and ignore whenever it suits you! She was a CHILD, three years old, and you were so busy praising Olga that she walked ALONE to preschool! Did you even notice when she came home and her clothes were muddy? Did she have to wash those clothes herself? At THREE?”
“Hey, where do you get off lecturing me, hairboy?” And unlike when Helga said it, Bob saying it just made his blood boil even more. “I know my kid better than you think I do!”
“Oh really? Who’s her favorite wrestler?” Bob stopped, giving him a blank look. “Who’s her favorite writer? What’s her favorite food? What’s her favorite color?” Every question just resulted in sputtering, and Arnold almost kicked his chair from behind him as he stood. “You don’t. You don’t and she knew it. She knew she’d always be second place from the moment she was born.”
“Hey! That kid got everything she ever wanted!” Bob retorted. Arnold’s eyes flicked to Miriam who looked like she was trying to wake up from a nightmare. “She always had a roof over her head, a warm bed, and a plate of food!”
“You gave her the bare minimum! How many times did she come to school with an empty lunchbox because no one had packed her one? How many times did she see all of you standing around that piano or in that trophy room, begging for even an ounce of care, and receiving nothing?” Bob was silent at this point, and Arnold’s scowl only deepened. “Helga spent her entire time in this house wishing she was anyone else. Then maybe her parents would love her. Maybe then her mother would stop drinking herself to an early grave. Maybe then her father would actually call her by the right name.” Arnold stopped, took a deep breath, and straightened his tie. “I came here to ask for your blessing to marry Helga. But I don’t need it.” And he stomped out in a very Helga-esque fashion, leaving Bob and Miriam to stand there in stunned silence.
It took two weeks for Helga to learn…a version of what happened. She stomped into their room, Arnold yelping and quickly stuffing the box back into his pocket. “Alright Football Head, what did you do?” She asked, her face a grim line, her expression not changing the sheer attitude of rage that surrounded her.
“What are you talking about Helga? I haven’t done anything.” He asked, playing dumb, but Helga was an expert at such things. Her blue eyes narrowed, and Arnold suddenly had the urge to tell her how beautiful she was when she was angry, but he didn’t think that’d get him out of the dog house, so he settled for smiling sheepishly.
“Oh yeah? Then why is my dad suddenly texting me more than three years after I moved out?” She asked, tossing her phone onto the bed with an anguished scream. “Why is he talking about how he “screwed up my life” and he “wants to make it up to me”? Why is he telling me about how Miriam checked herself into a detox ward!?” She stomped closer, eyes narrowed as she poked him in the chest. “You’d best start talking Bucko, or you’re sleeping on the couch and you can explain that to your parents.”
Arnold chuckled weakly. “W-Would it save me if I told you it was for a very good reason and you’ll find out very soon?”
Helga almost did, and he could see her struggling to not just kiss him right there. “No, not this time, Arnoldo, so spill it, or the consequences are going to be severe.”
Arnold sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay.” He sat down and patted the bed, inviting her to sit next to him, a sad smile on his face. “I went to your parents about two weeks ago. I wanted to ask them something–”
“Criminy Arnold, what could you possibly want to talk to them about?” Helga interrupted and Arnold laughed.
“I can’t tell you, but it WAS important. Anyway, they…acted like themselves.” He sighed again, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. Before he knew it he was on his feet and pacing, Helga watching him getting worked up with a surprisingly caring look on her face. “And then they started…badmouthing you. Calling you a difficult child, among other things, and I…I just couldn’t hold in how angry I was.”
Helga blinked, before snorting. “You? Angry? Arnold P. Shortman, angry?” She reeled back like she’d been shocked. “I’ve literally never seen you angry in my life, Arnold. What the heck did they say?”
“I…think it's best I didn’t tell you. I basically called them out on everything they’d done to you…and what they hadn’t done for you. By the time I was done, Bob was speechless, and I just…walked out.”
Helga snorted. “That’s a first. And what, now they’re trying to better themselves? For me?”
“That’s about what I’m imagining.” Arnold looked away, his eyes wandering to his hands in his lap. When he looked up, for only the second time in his life, he saw tears in Helga’s eyes. “Helga?”
“Do they really think they can still fix this?” Helga sniffed. “Why now? Why did they listen to you and not to me? I screamed all this for years, but they never listened to me!” Without a word, Arnold wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug, and she clutched on without a thought. “And even if they did,” She continued. “What makes them think that I’ll trust it? Do you think this is the first time they’ve tried something like this?” Her body began to shake as she began to sob, but the words just kept coming. “They both thought about changing. It never lasted. Miriam just ended up addicted to her job when she wasn’t hitting the bottle. Bob had one fun night with me and thought that made it hunky dory.” She clenched her fists in his shirt, growling in frustration, before a sigh escaped her lips. “I used to think that if I smiled more, if I became someone I wasn’t, then they’d love me. Later, I thought that if I just gave them the right words, if I delivered the perfect retort, the right insult in the right place, it would open their eyes, Arnold. But they never did, and I realized pretty quickly that…they are who they are. And every time I let out a sarcastic remark or a scream of rage…I was a little more like them and a little less like you.” She sighed, the steam running out of her anger and pain, but she stayed in his lap, curled up as tight as she could. After a long moment, she spoke again. “What should I do, Arnold?”
“Y-You want my opinion?” He asked, in shock. Helga had never asked his opinion on her family before.
“You always have the right answers! The right advice. You’re a hell of a lot better at it than me.” She answered with a shiver. “Just…tell me what I should do.”
“...” Arnold rubbed the back of his neck. “Helga, I can’t tell you exactly what to do here. This is a decision you have to make. However, I can say with confidence that whatever you choose to do, to let them back in or not, I will support you all the way.” He snorted as he began to rock her. “Do you remember that time I walked down the road in bunny pajamas?”
Helga giggled against her boyfriend’s chest. “How could I forget? It was adorable, but I remember you looking like you were being tortured.”
“Yeah, I did that because I discovered that Iggy still slept in bunny pajamas, and the secret got out. He blamed me, and that was what he demanded I do for forgiveness.”
“Jeez, that’s a bit nuclear.” Helga sighed, her tears slowing down. “So what happened?”
“Afterwards, Iggy learned that he’d made a mistake in blaming me. And he begged me to forgive him. And I didn’t.” Helga’s head shot out from Arnold’s chest, blue eyes wide.
“You? You didn’t forgive someone?” Helga asked, and Arnold nodded gravely. “I can’t believe it. You’re the most forgiving person I’ve ever known! Practically a saint! You can’t be serious!”
Arnold shook his head. “I didn’t. And I never did. I think everyone else realized that I was being cold to him, and he just kinda…fizzled. I’m not telling you this just to get you to laugh–”
“But it sure as hell is working!” Helga fought to hide her giggles, an act that made Arnold smile and squeeze her reassuringly.
“I’m telling you this to say that…everyone has a breaking point. A point where attempting to reconcile just…isn’t going to work anymore, at least for a long time. A point where you don’t care what they try to do to earn your forgiveness, because it doesn’t make up for everything they’ve done. I can say that, if I were in your shoes…I wouldn’t do it. I would keep your family at arm’s length. At least until they’ve proven that they’re committed to improving in the long run.” Then he offered a bashful smile. “But I might just be saying that because what they said about you got REALLY under my skin.”
“Oh shut up, football head.” Helga rolled her eyes. “So…keep them at arm’s length until they prove they can stick with it, huh? I can deal with that.” She chuckled vindictively. “Feels a bit good to hold their feet to the fire.” Then she turned towards him, her puffy red eyes slowly becoming half-lidded as she smirked. “Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me what you went to them for, though.”
Arnold sighed and hung his head. “Helga, sweetie, if I promise to tell you VERY soon, can you drop it?” He asked.
Helga fixed him with a look that made his face turn hot, and it took all of his effort to not flick his eyes downward towards his pocket, where the velvet box sat. “...Fine, I’ll drop it.” She said with a coy smile, before grabbing the collar of his shirt and slowly pulling him towards the bed. “But you’re making it up to me with interest, bucko.”
“Whatever you say Helga.” Arnold responded, smiling like he’d won the lottery. Whether or not the Patakis really changed their ways was irrelevant. They were stuck in the past. Arnold was looking at his future.