Chapter 9:
Fuckin’ Helena

Freak had been ridiculously high before coming over to Mr. Hersch’s apartment, but this new revelation shattered the haze, leaving him both sober and lucid. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me! I told you to call your doctor, not Helena!” He almost never cursed in front of Mr. Hersch. Freak wanted to throw something, he was so mad.

Mr. Hersch hung his head. “I’m sorry, Jonathan. But if I do have Alzheimer’s and these are my final days, I want her with me.”

He had a point, though Freak wouldn’t concede it. “You should have talked to me first.”

“I did. You wanted me to make a doctor’s appointment. I made one. It’s here on my calendar.”

Mr. Hersch had a desk blotter-sized calendar on the wall by his phone, big enough for him to see. Freak got up and looked. Monday morning, 10:15, Dr. Appelbaum. This was Friday night. “Okay, I don’t have class that morning, so that’s fine. Snake and I can take you. But why do you need her?”

The look on Mr. Hersch’s face was answer enough.

“Fine,” Freak grumbled. “When’s Helena coming?”

“Tomorrow morning. She’s taking a leave of absence for two weeks.”

Fucking awesome. Two straight weeks of Helena. Freak bit back an acid comment and concentrated on the subject at hand. “We need to figure out all your symptoms so we can have a list ready for the doctor. What medications are you taking?”

Mr. Hersch blinked. “Taking where? To the doctor?”

“No, what pills do you take every day? I know you take a lot of them. Where’s the chart I gave you to help keep them straight?”

“On the refrigerator door.” Mr. Hersch sighed. “Look, Jonathan, I’m very tired.”

Freak was already in the kitchen, looking at the chart. “It’s eight fifteen. Did you take your blood pressure pill?”

“No.”

“You were supposed to take it an hour ago. Where is it?”

“On my dresser in the bedroom. Don’t bother. I don’t like that pill. Makes me feel sluggish.”

Freak went into the bedroom and started searching through all the little brown plastic containers. Fuck, Mr. Hersch was taking a lot of medication. “You’re taking the pill. That’s all there is to it.” Freak had started labeling the white lids of each bottle with a round colored sticker so it was easier to see right away what it was for. “Hey, Mr. Hersch, why do you have two different medications with the yellow sticker? That can’t be right.”

“I don’t know. I think the other doctor prescribed the second one.”

Freak came back to the living room with both bottles. “So which blood pressure pill are you supposed to take? This one or this one?”

“I suppose both.”

“Is it safe to be taking both? Couldn’t you have a heart attack or something?”

Mr. Hersch shook his head wearily. “The new one. I don’t like taking the new one. Give me the old one.”

“You realize I have to update the chart on the refrigerator now, right? Hang on, I’ll get you some water.”

“I don’t like taking pills. Couldn’t you give me a cookie instead?”

“You sound like my six-year-old nephew.” Freak brought both medications into the kitchen and got the dosage ready.

Mr. Hersch accepted the pill—the new pill, the one that made him drowsy—and the water. Freak watched while he swallowed the tablet and sipped at the cup.

“I think on Monday, maybe I’ll just put all your bottles into a plastic bag and bring them along so we can see what the doctor says. It’s hard coordinating all this medication. Maybe he can work it out so you’re taking less.”

Mr. Hersch finished his water and set the glass on the end table. “I’m tired of taking pills, Jonathan. I’m sick of this whole business of getting old. Helena—”

“I don’t want Helena here.”

“I have every right to have her here. Now, I know you two don’t get along, but she wants to be here, and I want her here. You’ll just have to suck it up and be an adult about this.” The telephone rang. It was an old push-button device from the late seventies in chocolate brown, with a shrill ring that lasted longer than ringtones usually did nowadays. Mr. Hersch sighed. “Could you please get that, Jonathan?”

“Sure.” Freak went over to the credenza and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

A throaty laugh. “Well, hello, stranger.”

“Helena.” Freak said it like a curse. “Planning on just waltzing back into his life, stirring everything up again?”

“Oh, cut the crap, John.” She pronounced his name like it tasted bad. “I should be there around eleven tomorrow. I’ll bring lunch.”

“I don’t know what he told you, but he’s doing just fine. He has a doctor’s appointment Monday and I’m taking him, me and Snake, and we’re going over his medications right now and frankly, I have everything under control, so don’t disrupt your pretty little life by coming up here, okay?”

“Doing just fine? You’re taking such good care of him that he’s hosing people down with a fire extinguisher!”

“That stuff hardly ever happens. It’s under control.”

“Don’t be so fucking proprietary, John. Go down to Florida and hover over your own father.”

“I have every fucking right to be proprietary, Helena! You live in Princeton in your big fancy house with your rich husband without a care in the world, and you don’t even come around to see how your dad’s doing!”

“I am up there at least once a month like clockwork and you know it, mister.”

“You’re not taking responsibility!”

A pause while she took a drag from her cigarette. Her voice was surprisingly quiet. “What do you know about responsibility, John? You’re thirty-five years old and you sit around all day smoking dope.”

Thirty-six, actually. “I’m in law school.”

“Because you want to legalize dope! Your whole fucking life is marijuana and my father! What kind of life is that, John?”

“It’s my life, and I’ll live it how I want.”

“You don’t even pay rent, because your dad owns the building!”

“Oh, and you pay rent? On that big house with your rich doctor husband? I earn my keep. I do handy-man stuff.”

“You plunge toilets. It’s charity, John. You live off your father’s good will. Who’s paying for law school?”

He was silent.

“Are you there?”

Freak hesitated. There were a hundred things he wanted to say to her right now, none of them good. None pertaining to the subject at hand. “We have to stop this, Helena.”

She knew what he meant. “I’m sorry. I freaked out on you a little.”

“It’s all about Saul. We have to put him first.”

“You’re right.” Another drag. “I’ll stop on my way in and pick up Boston Chicken. I’ll get the family size meal. You and Snake will be there, right?”

Lunch with Helena. The very idea made his stomach turn. “Snake never misses a free meal.”

“Okay. Is Dad awake?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” He turned and found Saul Hersch lightly napping in his chair. “Holy shit. He fell asleep.”

“Is he in bed?”

“No, he’s in his chair.”

“Well, I guess get him into bed and let him know what time I’ll be there, okay?”

“All right. Later.”

Mr. Hersch’s first words, upon waking, were, “I don’t know why the two of you hate each other so much.”

On July 4, 1976, six-year-old Jonathan Frekenberg first met Helena Hersch. John had been invited to go watch the fireworks over the Statue of Liberty that night with the Rivers family. Helena, then twelve, was Moon’s friend, and had also been invited.

The Rivers tribe and friends, including young Jonathan, crowded onto the PATH Train and rode to the World Trade Center stop, walking the short remaining distance to Battery Park, a twenty-acre park situated at the very southernmost tip of Manhattan, where the ferries depart to Ellis and Liberty Islands. That night, the park swarmed with people festooned in red, white and blue, armed with sparklers and hot dogs and cardboard Statue of Liberty crowns and sometimes even gun and knives (this was New York, after all).

Before the fireworks began, Snake and Jonathan noticed Moon and Helena were missing. Telling Snake’s parents or older brother or any of the other adults in the group didn’t occur to them. Ambling around the milling crowds in search of Snake’s sister and her friend was much more exciting. They found the girls on the other side of the Ferry Ticket Office, leaning up against the wall, smoking.

Moon was coughing—she never did get the hang of nicotine—but Helena took deep drags, blowing practiced smoke rings and holding the cigarette casually between her middle and index fingers, like she’d been born with one there. Helena’s hair was long, dark, and shimmering brown, her eyes black and luminous, her nose arched becomingly in exactly the way Jonathan’s grandmother’s nose wasn’t. Helena was the most beautiful girl Jonathan had ever seen. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t realized it earlier, when he’d first seen her on the PATH Train.

Snake took a long, hard look at his sister. “I’m telling.”

At age eleven, Moon was tall, skinny and coltish, blond hair in lank ponytails on her shoulders. “Okay.” She shrugged and stubbed the cigarette out on the wall. “This thing tastes awful.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” breathed Helena. She savored the smoke with a shudder.

Belatedly, Jonathan realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it, too late to stop a little stream of drool from falling onto his shirt.

With a roll of her eyes, Helena gestured to Moon. “Let’s go back before this kid drowns us in spit.”

Jonathan was devastated. One of the biggest, brightest displays of fireworks yet seen played across the sky before him that night. He didn’t care.

Three years later, Jonathan, who had already been christened Freaky John by Snake’s brother, was watching TV with his brother, Jason. Their father came in. “Grandma Mindy’s friend Therese passed away last night. I’m taking her to the wake, and then we’re going out to dinner. I’ve called a babysitter.”

Freak was both thrilled and horrified when the sitter turned out to be Helena Hersch.

As soon as Dad and Grandma Mindy were out the door, Helena opened the window and lit a cigarette.

Jason didn’t approve. “Smoking’s bad for you.”

Helena shrugged. “So?”

Jason didn’t have a ready answer for this.

As for young Freaky John, all he knew was that he was utterly captivated by the way Helena puffed her cigarette, inhaling deeply, as though the smoke were some sweet nectar to be savored and released into the air. He was entranced by her confidence and disdain for authority. Freak felt the first stirrings of longing.

For the next three years, whenever Grandma Mindy wasn’t around, Helena Hersch was the sitter by default. Like his own family, her parents were divorced, so she lived in Princeton during the week and came up to Hoboken to be with her father on the weekends, when Dad and Grandma Mindy were most likely to go out. Freaky John treasured those magic evenings, when Helena would let him sit up on the couch after bedtime, watching TV just a few feet away from her while she flipped through a magazine or talked on the phone. Sometimes they’d play Monopoly. Once, Freak’s hand brushed against Helena’s fingers when they both reached for the box. It was like being electrocuted in the nicest way possible.

Freak and Helena got to be buddies of a sort. Eventually, Freak put two and two together and realized that the cool old guy who lived in one of his father’s buildings, Saul Hersch, was Helena’s father. That made Helena even more special, because Saul Hersch was the kind of dad Freak wished he had. His own father was always at work, or away for business, leaving him and Jason with Grandma Mindy or a sitter. Their mother had been out of the picture since he was two years old; he barely remembered her. But Saul Hersch always had time to talk, remembered things Freak told him, even showed up for his school pageant when Freak asked him to. Sure, Mr. Hersch was old, but he was the coolest old guy Freak had ever met. And his daughter was the coolest, most beautiful girl Freak knew. Freak and Snake spent many an afternoon at Saul Hersch’s apartment, eating Pepperidge Farms cookies and listening to stories of crimes long past. On the weekends, Helena was there, and Freak was in heaven.

Then the unthinkable happened. Helena Hersch got accepted to Princeton.

Freaky John was devastated when he heard the news. She didn’t tell him herself—he wasn’t sure if she ever realized the depth of his childhood crush on her—but let her father do it.

Freak was thirteen years old, and he got drunk for the first time. Over the next four years, his grades plummeted. He and Snake tried pot. Hash. Mushrooms. Coke. And other, even less savory vices.

Now Helena’s visits to her father were less frequent and often unannounced. Freak avoided her when she was home. Even when she tried to make contact, he ignored her. It was over. Freak remained friends with Mr. Hersch—nothing would ever change that—but Helena was a different story altogether.

Helena graduated when Freak was seventeen, the same summer Snake finally managed to get a nun into bed (but that’s a story for another time). She came home to spend a week with her father after graduation. Freak ran into her at a party at Snake’s house. Helena was on her third hairy navel. Freak didn’t know what a hairy navel was.

“Orange juice and Peach Schnapps,” Helena laughed, a throaty sound.

Freak shrugged. “That’s not too strong. You must’ve drunk a shitload to get this smashed.”

“But mostly vodka,” Helena added.

Freak conceded that maybe the drink was strong after all.

“Wanna try it?” Helena tipped her glass up to Freak’s lips. He was six feet tall now, half a head taller than she. He leaned forward to sip. Not bad.

Helena looked him up and down. “You look great.”

Freak looked at her shining hair, hypnotic eyes, velvet skin. “Thanks.”

“Want to dance?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t see anybody else dancing.”

Helena blushed. She was really wasted, too unsteady on her feet for him to even consider dancing. “We could be the first.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on! Want to?”

Freak had a good buzz going, but he didn’t let it get in the way. “I think you need a cup of coffee. Or some fresh air or something.”

She still had his hand. She squeezed it now. “Let’s go for a walk!”

Freak shrugged. “Okay.”

They ended up in the park, lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. A star or two peeked through the haze.

Helena rolled over on her side and gazed at his face. “I can’t get over how much you’ve grown up. You’re so mature now, John.”

“You keep calling me that.”

“What, John?”

“Yeah.” He avoided looking at her. “Before this, it was always Jonathan.”

“You’re John now. You’re an adult. We’re equals.” Her lips were so close. Her hair smelled fantastic.

His lips were trembling. He swallowed. “You’re drunk, Helena.”

She giggled, and it took all his strength not to kiss her. “So what if I am drunk? I can be bad, John.”

“You’re drunk,” he repeated, “and I’m not that desperate.” He permitted himself to stroke a lock of her hair. “Let’s see if you still feel this way when you’re sober.”

He walked her home in silence. He wasn’t sure if she was crying.

The next day, she acted as though nothing had happened. To be honest, nothing had.

He didn’t see her again for six years. She was nearly thirty when she moved back in with her father. Helena had earned her master’s degree in special education and just landed a new job with a private elementary school in Hoboken, teaching special ed kindergarteners.

Freaky John was twenty-three and had an entire year and a half of community college under his belt. He delivered pizzas for a living, when he bothered to show up for work.

One Friday night, Mr. Hersch and Helena ordered pizza. Freak stuck around to hang out with them and eat, rather than go back to work. Mr. Hersch was feeling tired and went to bed early. Freak and Helena stayed up talking until past three in the morning. After that, they didn’t do much talking. Freak crept out quietly at dawn, to avoid waking Mr. Hersch.

For the next two months, Helena ordered pizza every Friday night. At that point, Mr. Hersch suggested Freak just take his daughter out on a real date, because he was tired of all the pizza, and he felt awkward waiting around in his the bedroom every Saturday morning for Jonathan to sneak out.

In less than a year, Helena got a job offer in Princeton. The money and benefits were better, so she took it. Soon after, she fell in love with the school psychologist. After a whirlwind courtship, they were married.

When he heard the news, Freak disappeared for two weeks. Snake and Freak’s brother Jason finally found him in the psych ward at Beth Israel.

In 1998, Helena’s husband was killed in a car accident. A couple years later, she met Grant Spitznaugel, a wealthy neurologist. The year after that, he asked her to marry him.

Helena came home to Hoboken to do some soul searching. Was she truly finished grieving for her first husband? Was she more tempted by the comfort of Grant’s money, or by the comfort of his company? Could she fall in love again?

By this time, Freak was living in the apartment across the hall from her father. She found herself knocking softly at his door in the middle of the night. Freak found himself inviting her in. She stayed for three days.

When Helena returned to Princeton the next week, she had made her decision. Somehow, Freak wasn’t surprised.

Since then, they had mostly seen one another in passing. Sometimes their paths crossed at holidays, but they kept their distance.

Freak didn’t hate her, exactly. But he didn’t trust her, exactly, either. And he most certainly did not want Helena Hersch Spitznaugel back in his life.

Copyright 2006 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.
Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.

Haven’t figured out a title yet. The plot thickens as Mr. Hersch invites Freak in for a chat and Peter Arsenal performs some alchemy. Margaret, meanwhile, has her own plans…