It's funny, you know? I've spent, what, two-thirds of my life on this guy. And for what? To have him leave me. To have him pack up, say his quick goodbyes, and leave, all in the space of a day. He said he was alone, and that he needed to leave to get himself together.

He wouldn't have had to be alone, though.

You see, I told him. I actually, honestly, told him. But in the end, it didn't seem to matter to him. He still left. Left me.

I was at home, watching television with Big Bob. The only "family ritual" I could tolerate, of course. ...

"Hey Olga, you wanna watch this? I'm going to bed."

I rolled my eyes. "It's Helga, and yeah, leave it on."

Bob groaned his way to his feet and up the stairs. I looked over and saw Miriam laying on the sofa.

"You going to bed, too, Mom?" I asked.

She mumbled something about a puppy or something and rolled over, onto the floor. She landed with a thud that betrayed her small frame. But she didn't wake up.

"Geez."

Just then, the phone rang. It was late--like, eleven 'o clock--so I was none too thrilled to answer the phone. It was Phoebe.

"Helga, sorry for calling so late, but I've got some bad news."

I yawned. "What's wrong, Pheebs?"

"It's Arnold's grandpa. He just died this evening."

I didn't move an inch. My eyes went out of focus for a minute, then centered in on a fly that had just landed on the wall next to me. I smashed it.

"That's . . . wow . . . I mean . . ."

"It's so sad, isn't it?" Phoebe answered disdainfully. "I mean, who's Arnold going to live with now? This is horrible, isn't it? I mean, his grandma just died a month ago, too. He doesn't have any living relatives--at least, I don't think he does."

I continued staring at the fly entrails that were smeared on the white wall next to me. It represented something to me. But I don't know what it was.

"Pheebs . . . can I call him?"

She was silent a moment, then answered quietly, "Maybe you should. I think he's heard from everyone else."

"So why am I the last to know?" I asked, peeved that I should be left out on such important information. I mean, just because I treated the kid like dirt didn't mean I didn't care about him.

Phoebe was silent a moment longer. "I guess . . . nobody figured you'd want to know."

I could've slapped her right then, best friend or not. She was one of three or four people on the planet who knew of my true feelings for Arnold, so she should've known darn well that I'd want to know.

"I'll call him now. See you tomorrow," I said, keeping my tone uncharacteristically neutral on purpose, to drive home the point that I was pretty pissed off at her. She mumbled an apology of some kind and hung up.

I dialed his number. I'd rarely called it in the past, but I've had it memorized since I was in the first grade. It rang on his end five times before the machine picked up.

"Thank you for calling the Sunset Arms Boarding House. We are not able to take your call at this time, but if you leave..."

I hung up, disgusted. Disgusted with him, for not answering the stupid phone. Disgusted with his grandparents, for dying and leaving him all alone. And disgusted with myself, for treating him like crap for his entire life.

I walked upstairs silently. I opened my door, and stared as the light from the hall illuminated my bed. I wasn't tired. I didn't feel like writing, either. So I decided to go for a walk.

My walk just happened to lead me past the Sunset Arms Boarding House. Fancy that. I was scared. Out of my mind, actually. Here I was, at 11:34 P.M., standing in front of Arnold's house, ringing the doorbell. I was nuts.

I'd been alive for fourteen years at that point. I was in eighth grade. While most girls my age were maturing into young ladies and making changes to attract members of the opposite sex, I was doing my best to annoy everyone and keep my feelings for the boy I loved a secret to the world.

This was uncharacteristically caring of me. He would be surprised.

He opened the door. His eyes were red. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but I held back. I shouldn't have, though. He looked like he would've hugged anyone at that point.

"Hey Ar-Arnold..." I stuttered pathetically. "Can I come in a minute?"

He gave me the strangest look. He was dumbfounded.

"Sure," he answered after a moment. He stepped aside and motioned for me to come in. Despite his urging, it was still a real struggle to step over that threshold, into the house I'd infiltrated several times in the past. Those times had all been covert, though. This was the real deal.

He lead me into the living room where I sat down next to him on the sofa. He looked at me warily, as if expecting me to hurl some inappropriate insult at him at any minute. I frowned back at him.

"Do you wanna talk?" I asked, trying to force my tone to sound more concerned than necessary, to break whatever boundaries were still in place between us. He seemed to soften a little, and nodded.

"Thanks for coming," was all he said, before he burst into tears and threw himself into my arms. I held him for what felt like an eternity. But love struck idiots always say things like that. It was only about five minutes.

I held his hand as he began to speak. "He was sick, you know. But it wasn't supposed to be serious. Just the flu, right? That's what the doctor said. He didn't even prescribe medicine for him. Idiot probably graduated lowest in his class . . ."

I just nodded occasionally, whenever it was appropriate.

"Anyway, he was coughing really bad this afternoon, so I called the doctor again. Idiot said that he should drink some orange juice and get some sleep. So I told him to, and then he never woke up. I mean, he said 'G'night short man' and he freaking never woke up!"

I squeezed his hand tighter, and he did the same to mine.

"Helga, thanks. For, you know, coming. I was surprised to see you."

Now was my chance. I might never have gotten the courage to do it again. "I figured you would be."

Not exactly the best thing to say. "I didn't even know you knew."

I just needed to come out with it. And hopefully, he'd find some comfort in the fact that I . . .

"Yeah, Phoebe called me around eleven. I wanted to see how you were holding up."

I was struggling. I needed to do something to force myself to level with him. I put my arm around him.

"Arnold, I want you to know something. . . . If-if you ever . . . you know, need to talk to someone, I'll . . . I'm only a few blocks away. And you can call me whenever you want."

He smiled at me. It was the most sincere smile I had ever seen. "Thanks, Helga."

I hesitated a moment, then, with courage I didn't know I possessed, I leaned in and kissed him briefly on the lips. As I pulled away, I saw the expression on his face was one of mixed confusion and surprise. I guess it could've been worse, though. He could've looked disgusted.

"Sorry," I mumbled, turning about as red as I'd ever turned before in my life.

He swallowed. "For what?" he asked, smiling a little at me. "It helps to know that you'll be there for me."

I was slightly disappointed that he didn't read the kiss as more than sealing of my friendship, but then again, it wasn't like it was the first time I'd kissed him. So he probably wasn't as shocked as I figured he'd be.

I stood up slowly, and Arnold did as well. "Will you call me tomorrow, when you get up? I'd like to get together."

Arnold had just asked me to call him. He was interested in spending time with me. Even though I figured he was just latching on to me because I was the first person he'd seen, I was still happy.

"Sure thing, Arnold. Eleven 'o clock sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds great."

I left that night a better person than when I'd come. And even though there was a long, painful road ahead of me, I felt at peace in spite of myself.

I was no stranger to pain. But I didn't welcome it. And I wouldn't in the coming weeks, as more pain than I could ever imagine was dumped on me. But that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?

I find that hard to believe.