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Arnold hadn’t left the boarding house since the funeral.
The days after seemed to blur together like the dirt and dust on his skylight being muddied up by the rain. It had been a grand affair, neither Phil nor Gertie had wanted anyone to cry, and instead had wanted a massive party to remember them. People did still cry. Mr. Hyuhn had sniffled into a handkerchief quietly, Ernie would tell the story of Phil’s ‘secret office’ to anyone who would listen. Dino Spumoni had shown up, delivered a speech about how the Shortmans were some of the most reliable, wonderful people in his life, and performed a full set for them. Even Bobby Fischer and Rex Smythe Higgins had shown up to pay respects to their old rival. Everyone had tried so hard to fulfill their dying wish. Helga had held his hand the entire time. The soft laughter, the watery smiles, only offering their condolences in private. What else were they supposed to do, after all?
Phil and Gertie were dead. Phil had at least beaten the family curse, passing away at 93 years old. Gertie had a stroke six months later and passed peacefully in her sleep. But it just…didn’t stick in Arnold’s head. Once the funeral was done, and the two urns had been placed on the shelf next to the entryway, the entire atmosphere of the boarding house had changed. The boarders either avoided him or spoke softly around him like he was made of glass. A plate of food always appeared at his door every morning, and a cup of coffee was always sitting at the kitchen table whenever he came downstairs.
His parents were somehow worse. They’d grown very close after San Lorenzo of course, but it had been Phil and Gertie who’d raised him since he was a year old. Miles was awkward, always hanging around doorways, opening his mouth to attempt to talk but always clicking his mouth shut, unable to find the proper words. Arnold didn’t blame him, it was like they’d both lost their parents. Stella was very touchy-feely, hugging both her husband and Arnold, sometimes openly crying, and otherwise just trying to keep the boarding house running. God he loved them, he knew they loved him too, and he wished he could reach them. But he couldn’t. Everything just felt like it was so far away. He knew that beyond the walls of the Sunset Arms, life kept going on. Day turned to night, May slowly became June, the days kept ticking by. The boarding house just felt so…quiet. No Grandma doing something ridiculous to get his spirits up for the day, no Grandpa strolling by and yelling at Oscar for not paying his rent.
Just...quiet. Arnold spent most of his time sitting in his room, listening, hoping that they would just…appear. As if this were just an awful dream, and he wouldn’t have to lose them. He knew everyone was worried. He knew Helga was worried. Life continued to move on outside of the boarding house. He hadn’t been answering calls or finishing plans, he was supposed to be helping Helga plan their wedding in four months. None of it felt real, like he was on the outside looking in on his own life. Like nothing mattered.
How could it matter when they weren’t there? When Grandpa wasn’t going to be pretending he wasn’t crying, or Grandma wasn’t going to wear some ridiculous outfit in the middle of the church? When the people who’d raised him weren’t there? So he spent most days in his old room at the boarding house, staring up at the window, watching the clouds drift by. Every so often, he’d remember something, his grandma helping him save Lockjaw, his grandpa training him for the eating contest, every wonderful memory played on an infinite loop. In the night, right as he was about to fall asleep, his mind would wander, imagining Phil and Gertie sitting on the roof, playing the piano, inviting him to join in. But the daydream fades away, leaving him in the awful silence once more.
Helga had been so, so, so patient. Whatever gods would listen to her, she’d been so patient. For an entire month she’d kept herself under control while trying to keep a hundred plates spinning at the same time. She’d ignored Miriam’s suggestion to postpone the wedding and Bob’s grumping about the deposit on her dress being nonrefundable. She fielded the calls from the photographers, the caterers, and pointedly ignored the calls from Dr. Bliss.
But most important of all, she ignored the awful, painful twisting in her chest that happened every time Arnold sent her to voicemail or left her texts on read. She understood, of course she did. Arnold’s grandparents had raised him, for as long as she could remember, they’d been there. Even that fateful day at the daycare, the day where she’d been tied to Arnold with a simple umbrella, his grandpa had been there, smiling at his young grandson for being so kind. So Helga backed off, gave him space, brought him food via his parents which she was sure he wasn’t eating, sat on the couch in their apartment, staring at her phone, hoping against hope that he would finally respond to her.
But after a month of this, her patience was wearing thin and her temper was rising to the surface. Not at him, never at her beloved golden-haired fiancee, but rather, she was mad at the fact that he thought he had to do this alone.
“Helga, you’re grinding your teeth again.” Phoebe cut in as her inner monologue screeched to a halt. Her best friend was flipping through a catalog, trying to find a good floral arrangement. Normally she’d be looking for bridesmaid dresses, but that task had been delegated to fellow bridesmaid Rhonda.
Helga glanced up from the binder she’d been glaring into, and at Phoebe’s silent raised eyebrow, she growled and slammed the binder shut. “I can’t do this anymore, Phoebs!”
“The wedding planning?” Phoebe asked.
“Oh yes, I can’t take the utterly banal task of deciding on stupid flower arrangements while also fielding a call from the photographer.” Helga fixed Phoebe with a dry look for a moment before throwing her hands in the air. “Of course I’m talking about Arnold, Phoebe!”
“Helga, he’s grieving.”
“I KNOW he’s grieving!” Helga snapped, but her anger disintegrated when Phoebe flinched, and she sighed and ran a hand over her face. “I know he is. How could he not be? But if he hasn’t come back by now…he needs me. He’s just too stuck inside his stupidly handsome football-shaped head to realize it.” She stood and grabbed her coat.
“Helga, what are you going to do?” Phoebe asked.
“What I should’ve done two weeks ago.” Helga snapped back. “I should be back tonight…or tomorrow. Maybe.” And she was off.
The walk to the boarding house had barely taken her ten minutes from their apartment. When she finally laid eyes on it, it immediately made her skin crawl. She’d spent practically her entire life around this boarding house, even when she wasn’t actively stalking her future husband. This was the best hangout spot in the entire neighborhood, the stoop large enough to support the entire 4th grade class. The roof was the best spot for parties with its wide, flat roof and the piano Gertie always loved to play. Now, all the lights were off, leaving it looking empty, as if the entire building mourned the loss of the owners. Helga stepped up and tried the knob, just out of habit. Phil and Gertie had long since said that she was family and could come in whenever she wanted.
Locked.
Helga blinked in astonishment. “I beg your finest possible pardon?” She asked, offended. She looked around, not seeing the Shortman’s car or the Packard around, so she simply scowled and looked up, taking a deep breath through her nose to steady herself. “Alright Football Head. It’s been a while since you’ve forced my hand like this, but I guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”
So she circled around to the side of the building and began to climb the fire escape like she’d done what felt like a hundred times. Every rung she climbed reminding her of bad pork rinds, of midnight rendezvous, of the fact that Grandpa knew they’d been fooling around before they were strictly supposed to. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, and the fire escape let her know it by groaning under her weight, but she paid it no mind. Whatever was broken on her quest to find her beloved, she’d just fix. The roof spanned above her, but all she could focus on was that familiar skylight, the one she’d watched him through for ages, sometimes he knew she was there, sometimes he didn’t. She checked the entryway, only to growl when she saw the padlock securely fashioned to the latch.
“You seriously think this will stop me, you nimrod?” She sneered, grabbing a bobby pin from her pocket. Phil had been using the same padlock for nearly a decade, declaring it ‘good enough’. At first she’d thought it was the dumbest thing he’d ever said. But after she’d tried to abscond from Arnold’s room one night and he’d been waiting on the stoop with a toothless grin, she couldn’t help but appreciate it. As she was reminiscing, the lock popped open, only taking two seconds longer than her record.
She slid open the skylight and jumped down onto Arnold’s bed. The air smelled stale, hot, like he hadn’t opened the window the entire time he’d been up there. His bed was ruffled and unmade, coffee cups were sitting around, books were stacked unevenly everywhere, clothes were draped everywhere, and a bunch of Arnold’s mementos were scattered all over his desk.
Then the door opened and Arnold stepped through. By Aphrodite’s luxurious locks he looked awful. His face was quickly growing a rat’s nest of a beard. His clothes were rumpled and worn like he hadn’t changed in a week, if not more. His hair was longer and mussed, a combination of constantly running his hands through it and just not combing it. He’d definitely not been eating more than the bare minimum, judging by the fact that she could see his shirt becoming almost concave around his ribs and his cheeks had been made more angular from the loss of fat, almost making her darling Arnold look like a stranger. He looked so small, so tired, that her heart broke a little just looking at him. For a moment, he stared at her, completely silent, until his lips quirked upward just the smallest amount, and Helga felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her beloved was still in there somewhere. “Helga. You picked the lock again.”
Helga rolled her eyes and got up out of the bed. “Shut up, Football Head.” She scoffed. “I’m tired of being ignored, but just give me a second.” She stood, took a deep breath, and opened one of his old drawers, knowing where his towels were by habit by now. “You smell like shit. Shower. Now. And shave off that disaster that even Sid can’t generously call a beard.” She pointed back downstairs, and Arnold could only stare at her before walking downstairs to the bathroom to clean himself. Helga knew that shouldn’t have bothered her, that he didn’t even say anything, but it did anyway. By the time he’d come back, his room was pristine. Helga had gathered up the empty mugs and taken them to the sink, made his bed, tossed his clothes into the hamper, and as he crossed the threshold back into his sanctuary, Helga had shoved a paper plate into his hands, and he stared dumbly at her as she crossed her arms. “Eat. You look like a cow skeleton in the desert.”
“...Pizza?” He asked, not remembering anything about the food coming into the boarding house.
“Yeah, I found it in the fridge. I figured if it was Oscar’s no one would miss it.” She answered. “Now. Sit and eat.” She guided him to the bed, sitting him down. He munched away at the two slices of simple pepperoni, feeling Helga’s eyes burning a hole in his soul the entire time.
After he gulped down the final slice, he stared at the slightly greasy paper plate. “I…I don’t know what to do.” He says quietly. His hands are shaking, gripping the paper plate tightly. At Helga’s quiet look, he kept going. “I don’t know what to do with this…hole. I thought I had a hole in my heart when I thought I’d never see my parents again, but…this is even worse. And it can’t be fixed. I can’t go to San Lorenzo and find them. They’re just…gone. Every time I think about them, I feel like I’m drowning. And when I stop, I feel so…so guilty. I keep thinking, keep hoping that they’re still here, that this is all a bad dream.” He gives a short, fragile laugh. “I know, it’s so stupid.”
Helga sighed. “It’s not stupid, Arnold.” She answered softly, reaching over to touch his shoulder. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge her, just continuing to fiddle with the plate.
“I just…don’t get how everyone is acting so calm about this.” He muttered.
“They’re not, hairboy. They’re still mourning just like you. They just care about you more than their grief.” Helga answered. When Arnold didn’t answer, Helga leaned to the side, placing her shoulder on his. “Arnold, they adored you, you know that. They loved you like their own son.” Arnold’s jaw clenched, but Helga didn’t stop. “They wanted a celebration instead of a dreary old funeral precisely because they wanted to avoid this, for everyone, but especially you. They didn’t want this for you, Arnold.”
Arnold stood up so fast the paper plate slipped off his lap and onto the floor as he whirled on his fiancee, eyes sharp and frown deep. “Don’t.” He warned.
“Arnold–”
“No, don’t start…! Don’t tell me what they would’ve wanted.” The anger in his voice seemed to shock them both, but Helga’s brows furrowed. Anger meant she was getting somewhere. “You think I like feeling like this? Like I’m just fading away?”
Helga rolled off the bed and got to her feet, crossing her arms. “I didn’t say that, Arnold.”
“Of course not, so what, you just came in here to fix me?” Arnold snapped, his arms clenched at his sides in barely-contained fury. “You think just breaking into my room, cleaning it up and handing me some food is going to make me act like nothing happened?”
“Dammit, Arnold, that’s not it–!”
“Then what is it?” Arnold shouted, panting now with the force of his feelings. “They’re GONE, Helga!” The force of his words, finally stating the truth, felt like his heart was shattering into a billion pieces. “They’re gone and everyone is acting like I’m supposed to know what to do!” His eyes were wet, tears threatening to fall. “I’m here and they’re not and I’m the only one who’s missing them like this!”
Helga froze. Arnold froze. Helga’s fists began to shake, and her lip trembled. “How dare you.” She muttered, and Arnold knew he’d just taken it way too far.
“Helga, I’m–”
“How dare you say that to me!” Helga snapped, wiping a tear away in irritation. “You have no idea how much I miss them! You have no idea what Phil and Gertie were to me!” She took a step forward, and Arnold took one back. “When you first brought me to the boarding house, your grandma hugged me and called me her daughter in law when we were twelve! Phil taught me his best fishing techniques the same day! They treated me like family when my own family was so far down the crapper I thought they’d never come back! And I have to deal with this, while also managing my entire fucking wedding because my fiancee is too busy burying himself alive to care about anything but himself!” Arnold’s chest twisted painfully as Helga stepped forward and hugged him as hard as she could. “I miss them too, you idiot.” The room fell silent except for both of them breathing heavily, a weight that felt so impossible now being manageable thanks to each other. “But this? They wouldn’t want this for you, my love. They would want you to live, not just not die. They loved you more than anything, they wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself like this.”
Arnold blinked, and suddenly his shoulders were shaking, and his arms wrapped hard around Helga, the warmth of his soon-to-be wife seeming to crack the shell around him and he buried his face in her neck, inhaled the scent of her cherry shampoo, and began to cry. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry Helga, I–”
“Shhhh…it’s okay, you dense little football head. I’m here. You’re grieving, you’re allowed to be dense, but you’re not the only one grieving, and neither of us have to do it alone.” Helga answered, sniffling herself. She slowly laid back down on the bed, letting her beloved cry, and crying herself. It would take a good hour before their tears would dry, and then another two hours of them just cuddling on his too small bed like they’d done so many times in the past, before Helga inhaled deeply. “C’mon, Arnold. We’re going downstairs.” Arnold hesitated for only a moment, before nodding.
The boarding house was still too still, too quiet, but now Arnold’s hand stayed firmly in Helga’s as she led him down the stairs, past the kitchen and over to the mantle, where two urns sat side by side, one a simple mix of blues and greens, and the other wild tye-dye colors, a kaleidoscope of colors. Phil and Gertie, not here, and yet somehow felt.
Arnold felt his chest churn, but Helga squeezed his hand, and he slowly took a deep breath, stepping forward. “Hi Grandpa. Hi Grandma.” He said clearly, choking up a little, but determined not to stop. “I’m sorry for holeing myself up in my room like that. I know you’d be mad at me for letting Helga handle all the wedding stuff on her own.” He could see it now, Grandpa offering some weird, but sage advice, and Grandma offering her own advice couched in pop culture references, but always kind and loving at heart. “I miss you.” He hiccuped, and the tears began to fall, but Helga’s hands wrapped around his neck, giving him the support he needed. “I’m always going to miss you. But…But I can’t just lay in my bed. I have to keep going. But I’ll always remember you, and I’ll always love you.”
That night, Arnold finally answered his phone. He thanked everyone for giving him space, he came back to his and Helga’s apartment and made some decisions about the wedding, called the photographer, and fell asleep in Helga’s arms.
When he blinked, he was suddenly back in the boarding house. He slowly ascended the stairs and opened the skylight, revealing a bright red biplane straight out of World War II. Climbing into the plane’s seats were Grandma and Grandpa, in leather bomber jackets and red scarves.
“Grandma? Grandpa?” He asked, suddenly sounding so small. The pair looked at him, then each other, before Phil slowly stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Look at you, Short Man. Tall as a lighthouse you are! It’s good to see you, sonny.”
Arnold looked at the plane, then to his grandparents. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? And…and I can’t come with you.”
“I’m afraid so, private. They only let Phil wait so long for me. You’ll need to be keeping guard on the homestead now.” Grandma nodded solemnly.
Tears pricked at Arnold’s eyes, and the elder pair quickly stepped forward to scoop him up in a hug. “Don’t be so sad, Short Man. We all have to cross into the wild blue yonder sometime. You’ve still got a long, long time to go.” Grandpa soothed.
“You take care of yourself Arnold, and of Eleanor, too. She needs you more than you know.” Gertie added, squeezing Arnold in exactly the way he always remembered.
“I-I love you.” Arnold said quietly. He knew this was a dream, but he needed to say everything he needed to. “Everyone else misses you too.”
“We know, Arnold.” Grandma said quietly. “But it’s time for you to make sure everyone misses you before you get your own plane. We love you too.”
“That’s right. Now get out there and live, Arnold. We wanna hear all your stories when you see us again. And hey! At least I proved that old family curse was just a load of hooey, eh?” Phil grinned, and Arnold couldn’t help but laugh.
He watched as his grandparents climbed into the plane, and waved as it took off. He stood there on the roof until the plane became a tiny dot, and then disappeared into the endless blue.