Not exactly the ugly duckling

 

Helga was in a good mood, she was almost skipping as she pushed the glass door open and stepped into her building.

"Helga!" Dave's face split into a grin "How's my favorite Pataki?"

"A box o' fluffies, Dave! How's my favorite bouncer?" Helga shrugged her bag higher onto her shoulder, rearranging the plastic shopping bags in her hands.

"Same old, same old. Almost finished the book you loaned me" he brandished the paperback. Keep the Aspidistra Flying by Orwell.

"Cool, I have Down and Out in Paris and London, too, if you wanna read it? I can drop it down in a sec?" Dave agreed enthusiastically, and thanked her even more enthusiastically when she dropped a spicy lamb kebab in its greasy paper wrapper onto his desk. "Don't mention it." She waved Dave's offer to pay her back away, before she caught the elevator to her floor, dumped her bag in the hall, and a kebab for Bob on the kitchen bench.

She grabbed the book for Dave, caught the elevator back down, and presented it to him. "Keep that one." She pointed at the book of her Dave was still reading "I have it on my Kindle now anyways. Sophie might like it." Sophie, Dave's daughter was an avid reader, far beyond her years.

"Thanks Helga." Dave smiled "She'll love it. Might I say, you're looking very chipper today."

"HA! Yeah, thanks… It was a good day at work." And it had been. Despite her fears of not being taken seriously, once she had gotten used to wearing less starchy clothes, dressing less stiffly really had made a difference. She felt more comfortable, more confident. She didn't feel like she needed to tug at her collar or check herself over every few minutes, so she was more relaxed. It was something she never would have thought could happen just by changing a few items of clothing, but she was chatting more, speaking up more. It had only been three days, but she felt great!

Swinging her keys on her finger, she pranced over to the letterboxes, unlocked hers (3B) and pulled out the wad of envelopes.

Bills, bills, junk, bills, junk…. Hey. What? An envelope addressed to Helga. Not that rare, but her name was hand written, not printed. She turned it over.

Sender:

Arnold Shortman

Her heart leaped into her throat. She joggled the envelope in her hand; it was heavy. She pressed it between her fingers; there was a small, hard, flat object inside. She groaned… a key.

Safely back in her room, she opened the envelope, slowly, and slipped the single sheet of plain white paper out onto her bed. It was folded neatly into thirds; using both hands, she flattened the letter out. A pink key was taped to the bottom of the page. Carefully, she tugged it out from under the tape, and turned it over in her fingers as she read.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Helga,

I know you said that you didn't want a key to my place, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way… but I'm sending you one anyway.

I don't mind if you never use it. But I need to know that you have a safe place to stay if you ever need it. Hopefully you never will.

Grandma and Grandpa are fine with you turning up whenever, they didn't even ask for an explanation. They just like having visitors, so if you need my room, there is no reason for you not to use it.

Plus, I want you there. I can't be with you for another few months, so (selfishly) I like knowing that if you need a bed to sleep in, it'll be my bed.

I've tried to write this out three times already. I can't do you justice, so I'll give you someone else's words.

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,

A messenger from radiant climes,

And smile on thy new world, and be

As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,

Come now, and let me dream it truth,

And part my hair, and kiss my brow,

And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Longing 

by Matthew Arnold

If I don't hear from you again, I'll know I made a big mistake.

I hope I hear from you again.

Arnold

xxx

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Helga sat on the edge of her bed, and just stared at the letter, the newly cut key squeezed tight in her palm.

Did he know what that poem meant, or did he just pick it out of an online list?

Part of her hoped he didn't know, that it just sounded good, so he stuck it on the page, but part of her prayed desperately that he knew exactly what those words would say to her.

Her stomach almost cramped with butterflies, her throat felt small. God please don't let him have used those words lightly… the thought of him not meaning what that poem meant made her dizzy.

She pulled out her phone, and in a moment of temporary insanity, she hastily tapped out a message.

H- The poem… do you mean it?

She waited impatiently, her fingers toying with the key, her eyes reading and re-reading the letter. She jumped when her phone went off.

A- You got it? I was half hoping it got lost in the mail… But yes, if the poem means that I'm a clichéd can't-eat-can't-sleep mess, over you… then I meant it.

She stared, completely unsure of what to say. She swore when the phone leaped in her hands.

A- I really hope I haven't freaked you out. I just don't know what I should be doing, or saying…

Helga still just stared. She had no idea what to say. She tried to tap out a message:

- What does this mean? Do you want to g

No, she deleted it.

- Do you want me to come visit

No, not right either, she deleted it.

- I have no idea what to think. I have been crazy in love with you for so long, that now I just don't have any idea what the fuck I am supposed to do with myself.

She laughed as she deleted the message. "OH MY GOD" she yelled. She threw her phone onto the bed, along with the key, and went to take a shower.

She was still laughing when she came back to her bedroom. What the fuck was going on? She couldn't even think about what that letter might mean, what Arnold might want. She noticed her phone was flashing.

A – I'm sorry Helga, really. I don't know what to say. I wish I hadn't written that stupid fucking letter. I'll leave you be now :)

Helga sighed.

H – I'm ok, just surprised? You home? I can Skype in a few.

A – Thank God. Yes, please :)

So she combed her hair, pulled on an oversized shirt, and climbed into bed. Arnold responded to her Skype call almost instantly. The butterflies went berserk as his picture stuttered onto her screen.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, a small, shy, apologetic smile on his lips. "I feel so fucking stupid." His smile faltered a little.

Helga shook her head. "Don't. I… I liked it. I'm just… overwhelmed." She felt her breath shake a little. "Honestly? I don't know what to do. Like, what we are doing."

Arnold laughed. "I have no idea." He sighed. "I dunno Helga. I'm all, uh, confident… when I talk to you like this. I mean, like…" he smirked "I sound confident, huh?" he laughed ruefully as Helga shook her head. "During the day, when I haven't spoken to you, I start getting all paranoid that you're just going to lose interest… I KNOW it's stupid. I know I should just be patient and shit." He paused, tugging his hair nervously from his face. "Sorry I can't seem to just chill the fuck out." He finished, not looking into the camera.

Helga's insides twisted up. She felt heat behind her eyes, like she was going to cry. Steeling herself, she bit her lip. "This is so FRUSTRATING!" she groaned. "I just… I don't know what I am supposed to do. I don't know if I should say things sometimes…" she grimaced.

"I know what you mean." Arnold smiled, relaxing a little. "There is so much crap I want to say to you, but it doesn't feel right to do it over this…" he gestured to the camera. "I kinda have the feeling that when I see you, though, I won't NEED to talk… not that… not like THAT, but, you know?"

"Oh god." Helga groaned in a low voice, closing her eyes and sinking back into her pillow. "I would so love to not talk."

Arnold faltered. "Whoa. OK, that was really hot." Helga opened her eyes a little and smiled.

"Not really what I was getting at…" she JUST managed to not stop herself from calling him football head. She was all anxious and on edge.

Arnold blushed "Sorry. You are though, hot, I mean." He fidgeted while Helga surveyed him through half-closed eyes. "See, these are the kinds of things that just come out wrong when you try to say them through a camera."

Helga laughed. "It's ok. I'll try be understanding."

"Can I try again?" he asked softly, nestling into his pillow. Helga's stomach clutched at the look on his face. That moony look she had always wanted to be directed at her, but tempered with, well, lust. She nodded, swallowing.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Helga snorted, but he kept going. "Seriously. I… fuck Helga, there isn't much I wouldn't do to move you here for the rest of the semester. I can't wait to be back in Hillwood." He smiled as Helga blushed. "I have to admit, I've daydreamed about you just turning up on my doorstep… In those daydreams, though, Steve is mysteriously absent and the place is clean…"

Helga shifted, rolling towards the camera, bringing her knees up to her chest. "You want me to visit?"

Arnold grinned, "Oh hell yes, more than almost anything." His lopsided smile grew doleful "But the only place to sleep would be with me. I have wanted to ask you, but I don't want to seem like I'm trying to… yeah…" he drifted off.

"Oh." Helga fidgeted. "I mean, god, I WANT to… visit, I mean… but that would be… uh…"

Arnold chuckled "It's ok. I'm happy enough knowing that I didn't completely blow it with my stupid letter. You aren't angry about the key?"

"I might have been, but…" She smiled "You know you just wasted your money, right?"

"I don't care, as long as you're safe." Arnold whispered.

Helga laughed, picking at the hem of her bedsheet. "Always the white knight." She murmured, not looking at the screen. She couldn't relax properly. She wanted to ask him if anything was different, she wanted to ask him what he wanted, but she was too chicken.

They were quiet for a long time. Helga picked at her sheet, wondered what she was supposed to say, while Arnold watched her, seemingly just as lost for words.

"Are we ok?" he asked finally, in an almost-whisper.

"Yes… Yes! I'm not… like… it's not like you've 'scared me off' or anything. I'm just no good at this! I don't know what I am supposed to say!" She twisted the sheet between her fingers. "I like you, I…" she took a deep breath, hoping to hell that she wouldn't say too much. "I want… this…" she tried to tell him how she felt, but her voice felt stuck.

What the hell was wrong with her? Say it! Say 'You're kind and loving and smart and funny. You're so fucking sexy you give me goosebumps and make me think thoughts I have never thought before. I want. You make me want. Bad.' But she just sat there, feeling like she was about to cry.

Arnold sighed. "Good. I'm glad I didn't fuck it up." He paused, his real smile returning as he finally realized how uncomfortable she was and changed the subject. "So… have you decided whether or not I get to see your modeling shots?"

Helga groaned. "Argh! But it'll be so weird! I'm only gonna be wearing underwear!"

"I know..." Arnold grinned, "…I don't mind."

She giggled (again with the giggling!) relieved that the awkward moment seemed to be over. Drawing her knees up into her chest, she snuggled into her pillow, settling in for the night…