Chapter 17
I'd heard people say the bottom fell out of their world, or their heart fell out of their chest, and I always thought they were ridiculous exaggerated analogies for a shock. But Angela's words made the bottom fall out of my world. People said "he's no longer with us" when someone had died.
"What happened?" I croaked, not wanting to hear the answer.
"He moved on."
"What does that mean?"
"He's gone to his new home," Angela said impatiently.
"Jeez," I muttered. I wondered if she'd phrased it that way on purpose to upset me. I always got the feeling she didn't like me, which wasn't an attitude you wanted to see from someone who was employed to care for others. "Where?" I added.
"I can't give you that information. I'm sure he'll contact you if he wants to."
"Fine." Dejected, I walked away and made my way home. I had enough money left for another pack of cigarettes and a couple of bottles of beer, and I bought those rather than worry what I might eat at the end of the week. Still, I was getting my cab tomorrow. With any luck, the next day I'd have cash.
I spent the rest of the day in my room alone. Brian knocked once, but I stayed quiet and pretended I wasn't there. I didn't feel like socialising. All I could think about was Arthur and hope he was okay. There was nothing I could do but wait for him to contact me. I didn't know if Angela's refusal to tell me where he was, was her being mean or the rules. Perhaps Wesley wouldn't have told me either.
Later, I went down to check the mail. The key to my room came on a chain with another smaller key which was for the mailbox allocated to my room. The mailboxes were on the ground floor in the dingy lobby. Mine was empty—of course it was. If Arthur had sent me a note, it wouldn't have had time to arrive yet.
Dejected, I counted off the hours until it was time to open my fold-out bed, then counted the hours as the night crawled by. This time tomorrow I would be working, and the night wouldn't seem so long. As soon as I had some spare cash, I would get a TV. The silence and loneliness were unbearable.
When dawn finally came, I got up and made coffee. It didn't seem so unpalatable with the taste of smoke in my mouth, but the rate I was going with the cigarettes, I'd be getting through a pack a day in no time. I tried doing some exercises to pass the time and start toning myself up. I'd done virtually nothing for years and was out of shape. I did fifty crunches until my stomach ached, then tried push-ups. I managed ten before my arms were shaking too much to continue. Then I jogged on the spot for half an hour, before taking a lukewarm shower.
Eventually, I was able to head out to collect my cab. I walked to the depot I'd been to for my interview, and found the car sitting at the kerb out front waiting for me. All that was required was for me to sign something in the office, before I was given the keys and a reminder that my first payment would be due in two weeks' time. I had to make a minimum of three hundred dollars, but if I exceeded that, I could pay more if I chose to. After the first payment, two hundred a week was expected.
Much to my relief, the car came with one full tank of fuel. I began to head back to the apartment, but then thought, what the hell. I may as well start right away. I drove to the central railway station instead, where a line of cabs was waiting for customers. Turnover was fast at this time of day. It was still rush hour, and within twenty minutes I was at the front of the line and got my first fare. The young businessman only needed to go across town, and my meter charged him four bucks, but he gave me a five and told me to keep the change. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
By lunchtime, I had only twenty dollars and I decided to go home and start again in the evening. After midnight, the meter charged more and there may be less cabs on the roads. I parked the car on the street behind the apartment building, and checked the mailbox on the way in. This time, there was a small brown envelope there. I snatched it up and looked at my name and address, printed in the handwriting of a child, and a smile spread across my face. I headed up to my room, waiting until I had closed the door behind me before I opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper, neatly folded.
"Dear Travis, I have mooved to an adult carehome. I have my own room. Steferny and Raychel and Grayam are here to. This is the adress and fone number." He had printed the address carefully in capital letters and the phone number beneath it.
"I hope to see you soon. Arthur."
I grinned as I read it again. His spelling was worse than mine. He wrote things as they sounded. I pictured him with the paper and a pen, laboriously writing the note to me, and I laughed in delight. Then I went out to look for a public phone. I had a few coins in my pocket to make a call.
The first phone I found in the street had been vandalised, with its mouthpiece smashed and the cord severed. I discovered another outside a diner which was okay, and I dialled the number and fed a quarter into the slot. After four or five rings, a woman answered.
"Hello. I'm calling for Arthur Fleck. May I speak with him?" I asked.
"Who is this?"
"Travis Bickle. I'm his friend."
"Hold on, please."
I heard a clunk as the phone was put down on something, then silence. My phone began to beep as my quarter ran out, and I shoved two more in. Several minutes passed before I finally heard someone pick up the phone at the other end, and Arthur spoke.
"Hello? Travis?"
"Arthur! How are you?"
"I'm okay."
"How's your new place?"
"It's better than the shelter, and better than Arkham."
"Your note said you have your own room?"
"Yes. There's no lock on the door either. There are cameras in all the rooms so they can see what we're doing, but we can move around the house when we want. I have a private bathroom. Well, it just has a toilet and a sink. The showers are on another floor."
"That's great! I hope Rachel and Stephanie are leaving you alone," I joked.
"They know I'm gay. Rachel keeps bothering Graham, but he seems pretty happy about that. Did they help you find a job?"
"Yes. I'm driving a cab. It was easier than I thought. There's a company that helps people like us get started. They gave me my own car. I just have to pay for it out of the money I earn."
"I'm so happy for you." Arthur cleared his throat. "I miss you, Travis."
"I miss you, too. When can you have visitors?"
"Any time. You just have to ring the bell and wait for them to let you in. They ask a couple of questions and you have to sign a book, then sign again when you leave."
"I could come this afternoon," I said at once, my pulse quickening. I couldn't wait to see him, and check he was okay with my own eyes.
"Aren't you driving your cab?"
"No. I started this morning, but it's slow during the day. I always used to work at night in New York, so I'm going to try that later. I'll start about six o'clock."
"All right. I'll see you later, then." He paused and I heard him breathing. Then in a low voice he added, "I can't wait to kiss you."
"Me too." I chuckled. "See you soon, Arthur."
There was a map of the city in my cab, and I collected this before I went back up to my room. I found the street where Arthur's home was on the map and decided I would have to drive there. It was over on the other side of the city in the suburbs and would take a couple of hours to walk to. I didn't have spare money for the subway, and I didn't want to spend any of my meagre earnings just yet.
If I'd thought the previous day that the night had crawled by, it had been nothing to waiting for the next couple of hours to pass until I could see Arthur. I took another tepid shower and scrubbed myself from head to foot, then put on the best shirt I had in the poor collections of clothes I'd gathered. It was blue with darker blue dots in the fabric. Other than the cuffs and the collar being slightly worn, it was decent. I paired it with dark grey pants, and the thin tan jacket with a hood I'd been given at the shelter.
I parked outside the home just after two thirty. It had its own parking area which contained a few cars, but there were spaces. I rang the bell as instructed and a minute later a young woman opened it.
"Yes, can I help you?"
I recognised her voice from the phone. "I'm visiting Arthur Fleck. I called earlier. Travis Bickle."
"Oh, yes. He said you'd be coming to see him. Come in, please." She smiled a little.
I walked into a small lobby and waited while she locked the door. "I need you to sign the guest book." She directed me to a desk with a book and several pens. "You're Arthur's friend; is that right?"
"Yes. We were in Arkham together. He said visiting here is okay any time?"
"So long as it's not in the middle of the night." She laughed. "It's good for the residents to have visitors and mingle with people who have some semblance of normality in their lives."
"Good. You'll be seeing a lot of me, then. What's your name?" I straightened up from signing the book.
"Charlotte. I'm usually here in the mornings and afternoons. Arthur's in his room. I'll show you where that is." She led me up a flight of stairs to a corridor with several numbered doors, all closed. We stopped outside number six. Charlotte knocked, then stepped away. "I'll leave you to it. Remember you'll need to sign the book again and enter the time you leave."
"Thank you, Charlotte." I waited, heart pounding, until Arthur opened the door a moment later.
"Travis!" His face brightened immediately, and he smiled. "You came."
"Of course I came." I looked him up and down, taking in clothes similar to those I'd been given—hand me down cream shirt, blue pants, and a red sleeveless sweater.
"Come in." He moved out of the way to let me into the room. It was small with a narrow bunk, a chest of drawers and wardrobe, and a desk and chair. A closed door indicated the bathroom he'd mentioned. I pushed the door closed behind me and looked around a little more. On the desk was a notebook and a couple of pens, and a worn paperback.
"What are you reading?"
"Watership Down. It's not the sort of thing I like to read, but it passes the time. There's a small library downstairs we can take books from."
"What do you like to read?" I realised then I didn't know much about his likes and dislikes. All our time spent together so far had been in Arkham or in the shelter, talking about our pasts and our struggles. He liked a decent roast beef dinner, and he liked dancing, but beyond that, I had a lot to learn.
"Ernest Hemingway. The Old Man and the Sea is my favourite. Do you want to sit down?" He hovered between the bed and the desk, seeming unsure.
"Sit with me." I grasped his hand and sat on the edge of the bed.
He relaxed at once and smiled again. "So, tell me what it's like on the outside. I want to know everything; even about your crappy room."
"It's not very exciting. The shower is tepid and comes out in a dribble. I have a sofa that unfolds into a bed. As soon as I have some spare cash, I'm going to get a TV. There's nothing to do. I've hung out with Brian a bit. He was anxious to start with, because of me being into guys. I told him I only have eyes for you."
Arthur giggled and flushed. "What else? How was your interview?"
I talked more than I had in a long time. Arthur was interested in every detail, however mundane, and prompted me with questions when I thought I'd said everything there was to say.
"It's your turn," I said eventually. "How are you getting on? Charlotte seems nice."
"She's lovely. Better than Angela." He made a face. "I saw Dr Marks yesterday. We went over the whole story about Murray Franklin again. They say I'm doing better. I wrote it all out in my journal, too. It took me a whole day. I hope you understood my note. My spelling's not so good."
"We talked about this before. Mine's not much better. I didn't like school," I remembered. "I was always in trouble for not paying attention and not doing my homework."
Arthur grinned again, then his smile disappeared, and his expression turned serious. He licked his lips, eyes darting around as if he were nervous. "So, um, Travis, are you gonna kiss me, then?"