A Chance Encounter

It was late afternoon. He had been driving since early this morning, after a good nights sleep, from his start early the previous morning. Arnold knew it would be faster to get to his destination via plane, but he didn't feel like holing himself up in a big metal tube, fifty thousand feet in the air. He'd had enough of being cramped up with other people. As much of a people person as he was, even he had his limits these days. He looked at the dashboard. Two forty seven. He should stop. According to the GPS there was a diner about fifteen minutes away. He could stay there. Maybe also inquire about where the next motel was. He wanted an early night tonight. He was tired. Driving was exhausting work.

He was going to Hillwood to sort out some business, and attend his best friends wedding. With his grandparents both deceased, and his parent having no interest in the Boarding House, he was putting it on the market. He didn't live in the area, and travelled so much that he was hardly ever there. Nine times out of ten the boarders didn't pay their rent anyway. Arnold sighed.

It was a painful decision, but it was one that had to be made. The Sunset Arms had been in his family since . . . forever, but he didn't have the time for it anymore. He was glad his grandfather was not here to find out about his decision. He would have moaned and groaned and made Arnold feel guilty. Shit, Arnold could hear his voice, even now! He shook his head, and slammed his hands against the steering wheel.

He was peeved with his parents as well. Being reunited with them, after years apart, Arnold had left to be with them. He had all these ideas and hopes for how it would be. Should be.

But had only been disappointed.

His parents, though they loved him, found it . . . difficult, at best, to actually be parents. They were also very much into their work. Living with them with his grandparents had been one thing. Without them, once they were settled again, was completely different. They couldn't get over the fact that he wasn't a little baby boy. He couldn't get used to the idea of strict curfews and having some constantly on his back, looking over his shoulder. It had been maddening, and had led to actual verbal fights. University had been a relief. Though even in that, his parents tried to interfere and be involved.

He hadn't spoken to them for a month. He had found out his mother had tried setting him up again with a an old girlfriend from high school, she had taken a liking to, and had always moaned about Arnold having broken up with. Arnold had been livid. How dare they!? He had walked out that night, ignored his father calls, hopped in his car and driven back home.

When he had gotten the invitation Arnold had called immediately and talked some things through with Gerald. They both decided it would be better to talk about things in person, though Arnold didn't want to dump his problems on Gerald. He had enough things to think about and worry about with his upcoming wedding.

Finally seeing the diner, which it turned out had a motel next door (run by the same people), Arnold pulled in. parking he found his eyes drawn to the back of a young blonde in shorts. Her long tanned legs led to a tight thirm butt, that Arnold couldn't help but look at. Her hair was up in a high messy ponytail, and tied with a pink ribbon.

Pink ribbon.

He had once known a blonde who wore a pink ribbon. Tall and lanky, Helga Pataki had been "just one of the guys,". She was competitive, fearless and rough as guts, but she was also sensitive, caring and terrified of rats. Arnold laughed silently to himself. Rats. Of all things. He took his eyes away from the sway of a goddess's ass, and looked towards the diner. Hmmm . . . Food or room first?

He decided on food. Getting out he made his way to the diner and went in. the smell of food hit him like one of the trucks parked up outside. He went over and looked at the menu. An all day breakfast sounded nice.

"What can I get ya?" a young brunette asked, smiling brightly. Arnold smiled back.

"All day breakfast?".

"No worries," she said brightly, turning away and making her way to the til and bringing up his order. He paid for it then took a seat.

…

Hitch hiking again. It had been a while since she had had somewhere stable to live. Mostly she just travelled around surviving with her wits, artistic flair, and sparkling personality. She would often set up her easel and paints and paint scenery's and even portraits, that people would pay for. It was a nice, steady income, that she didn't pay tax on. She had even done a commission for a church a family she often stayed with, went too. She was paid well, too.

While on her travels she had met the Camel family. She had snickered at their last name, and rolled her eyes at them. They were Christians, but not the pushy, "believe in what I believe in or else your evil and going to hell" types. The mother had realised she was a run away of some kind. She had gotten in contact with Big Bob, who assured them he knew where she was. Helga stayed with them for a few months. They never pressured her into going to church and she never went. After a couple of months she moved on, but kept their number and knew where they kept a spare key they left out for her, "just in case". The last time she had stayed there for a week they had been away. They didn't mind. She never stole from them or threw their help back in their face. She had respect for them. Plus she knew they struggled themselves, with three kids, a mortgage, and only one income due to the fathers epilepsy.

Getting Phoebe's letter from them had surprised her. She was getting married. She knew she was engaged to Gerald, but she didn't realise they were moving that fast.

"This will be a good chance to reconnect," Lyra said, bustling around her kitchen. "We can give you a lift."

"No, it's okay," Helga told her, smiling. She knew they couldn't really afford the gas for a trip like that. "I have some money, I'll get there."

She looked at Helga worriedly.

"You're a good girl Helga?" she said, though Helga knew it was a question. Helga smiled. Oh yes, she was a good girl. She just nodded. Lyra bit her lip. "You just take care of yourself, okay? You get in trouble and you cant reach your father you call, alright?"

Helga had assured her she would do that. Lyra Camel was a maternal woman. Helga knew she hated to work, not be home for her children. When Helga did stay with them she helped out, and would get a job to help with expenses. Lyra and Kevin would never take money from her, so she would sneak off with their power or phone bill and pay money off on them.

She sighed, remembering their nice, warm, house. She had managed to get this far hitch-hiking. Mostly with a carload of girls on a road trip. They were fresh out of high school, taking time off before going their separate ways for College. They were absolutely fascinated with Helga and the stories she had to tell. They were sad to see her go, and tried to talk her into continuing with them, but she had declined, explaining her reasons for going to Hillwood. They dropped her off in the centre of Washington, wanting to do the touristy things. Helga had shaken her head. What eighteen year olds did that?

It was her mother who, in the end, had chased her out. They were fighting constantly about anything and everything, and Helga lost it at her one night. Miriam had slapped her, Bob had stepped in, Helga had rushed out the door. Bob had found her later on and gave her money for a Motel room.

"Come home in a couple of days, when you've both cooled down," he told her.

Helga hadn't gone back. Her father had tracked her down using a private detective, though it took him six months. He went away on a "business trip" and met up with her. He was disappointed, but knew she was a hard-head like himself. So he agreed to help her financially, on the condition she kept in constant contact and came back to Hillwood once in a while.

It was a small price to pay.

She looked up at the diner, then over to the Motel. She'd get a room first, then some grub. Then look at timetables for buses. She was bored of hitch-hiking, and after the last offer of a lift, felt her good luck was running out.

Entering Helga found a young man behind the desk reading Penthouse.

"Impressive," she said aloud, making him jump, drop the magazine and turn red. "Not the best impression to give customers. Are you a peeping Tom or something."

The guy went even redder, which surprised Helga. She was expecting some kind of smart alec comeback, but instead got a stuttering mess.

"Relax, sheesh, I don't give a shit what your reading, I just need a room," she said, coming up to him. He sat down and moved his chair closer to the desk, so his torso was pressed against it. Helga smirked. Teenage boys.

"Um, ju-just you?" he asked her, not looking her in the eyes.

"Yep, just me," she said, looking at her nails.

"Uh, okay, here, room twelve," he said, he handed her a piece of paper asking for all her details. She filled it in and handed it back to him, paying him up front for the room. He handed her the key.

"Thanks man," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and winking at him. "Try hiding it behind another book next time."

She made her way to her room, passing by parked cars.

She was getting hungry.

Entering the room she saw a big double bed. Sighing she dropped her bag and threw herself on it.

So. Nice.

…

Arnold was finishing up when he saw, again, the blonde in shorts. He almost chocked. It couldn't be, could it? Her features were the same, the ears, the big blue eyes, the nose, though the scowl and unibrow was gone. Her eyebrows were still thick, but were shaped and separate. "Brooke Shields eyebrows" as his mother would call them. He shook his head. Brooke Shields?

He watched her as she made her way over to the counter and ordered her food. She was handed a number and turned around looking for a clear table. Finally her eyes settled on him and she blinked, tilted her head, and her mouth opened into a shocked o. Then she frowned, looked away shaking her head, then looked at him again. He waved to her. She gave him a lopsided grin. He got up and made his way over, and she started toward him. Meeting halfway they just smiled at each other.

"Phoebe and Gerald's wedding?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, fiddling with the number on the stand she had.

"Got a ride?"

"Was thinking of maybe catching the bus. Had a close call hitch-hiking," she told him, smiling.

"Come with me," he said boldly. "We're going in the same direction."

"Gas, ass or grass?" she joked.

"A bit of everything would be good."

They both laughed, and she followed him over to his table.

"So what have you been doing with yourself?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

"Oh, you know, this and that, travelling," she said, tapping her fingers on the table top. "What about you?"

"University, internship, job" he told her. She nodded, and placed her hands on the table top, spreading her fingers out.

"What doing?" she asked, looking towards the counter. Boy from the Motel desk was in flirting with the pretty young waitress, who was giggling and flirting back. How quaint.

"Teaching history and science to teenagers," he told her.

"Wow, sucks to be you," she said, making a face.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

"Because most sane people spend thirteen years wanting to get out of High School. They don't spend four years at University to get back in," she told him.

Arnold laughed. "I didn't set out to be a teacher, Helga," he told her. "I set out to be an anthropologist."

"So what happened?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Needed a job."

"Yeah, fair enough," she said, leaning back.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Like I said, I travel, do a bit of art here and there," she said. "There's still people out there who think it's so romantic to have their portrait painted. Sometimes it's commissions, sometimes people just see my work and buy it."

"So you're an artist?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she looked up as the waitress brought her food to her. "Thanks."

"Other times?" he asked.

Helga shrugged.

"What University did you go to?" he asked.

"Didn't," she admitted. "I've done a bit of everything, I guess. I've been an artist, a stripper, a "nanny", a waitress, and store clerk."

"I don't know what shocks me more. The stripper part or the nanny part," he said.

"I know," she said. "I cant believe someone would leave kids in my care either, but they were good kids, and the family was helping me out too, giving me a roof over my head. It was the least I could do. The father was quite sick, so having me there helped save them money on childcare costs while they were in the hospital."

Arnold stared hard at this woman in front of him. Was this the same Helga Pataki that had ruled the playground with an iron fist? Who teased him and his friends? Who was known to be rude and obnoxious at the best of times, never mind the worst!

And she was helping out a family? Looking after their children? He smiled. He always knew there was a good side to Helga. It just took the right kind of people to bring that side of her out.

"I should probably go get a room sorted," he said.

"Okie dokie," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm in room twelve."

"Great, but I'll be back in a bit anyway," he told her, and got up to make his way to book a room. When he got there no one was behind the desk so he hit the bell. a few moments later the boy who had been flirting with the waitress who had served him came running in.

"Sorry, sorry, you need a room?" he asked. He sat down and handed him some papers. "Just some details, thanks."

Arnold filled the forms out, and looked up as he was handed a key.

"Room four," the boy told him. Arnold paid for the room and then made his way back to the diner, but saw Helga leaving and heading back towards the Motel. He waited for her.

Wow she was pretty. A little thin. He usually went for girls who were a little curvier, with a bit more meat on their bones, so to speak. She didn't have a curvaceous body, or big boobs, but she walked with confidence. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he was attracted to her, though.

"Your gawking, Football Head," she said smiling.

"What can I say?" he said, shrugging.

"Uh huh, keep it up, and I might just take my chances hitch-hiking," she told him, walking past and lightly slapping his arm. He just laughed. Flirting? Was she flirting? He followed her as she walked to her room and let herself in. "What number are you?"

"Four," he told her.

"Lucky you, close to the food," she said, flopping down on the big bed. Arnold looked for somewhere to sit, but there was no couch. So he stood there awkwardly. "I don't bite. Unless you request it."

So he took a seat on her bed. She sat up and puller her hair out of it's pony tail, fluffing it up and combing her hands through it, her head tilting back, exposing her neck.

Damn being a man.

"So what you say we pick up some food, something to drink and spend the night catching up?" she suggested.

"Sounds good," he said.

"Yeah, well, if we're going to be spending all our time tomorrow cramped into your car, it may be a good idea," she said. "Don't want to end up killing each other on the way there."

"I'll buy the food," he said.

"Sweet! I'll buy the drinks," she said, jumping up.