CHAPTER FIVE

A MAN AND HIS JOURNAL

It was midnight. Arthur sat at the small table in his living room, shirtless, a pen in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other. He'd spent the past hour sitting there, unable to do anything other than stare in frustration at the ceiling. While his mother slept like a log in her bedroom, snoring away, Arthur replayed that day's events over in his head.

He'd woken up that morning feeling fresh and ready to take on the day. If not for Aubrey having strolled into his life, he would have tackled the day the same way he always did: with little hope the day would have anything good to offer him.

So hopeful he'd been today would be the start of something new.

How totally wrong he'd been.

Today had been as shitty as any other.

Tightening his grasp on his ballpoint pen, Arthur spilled out his emotions the way he always did: through his journal. At the end of the day, he always had his notebook, a private place where he could let loose all his frustrations. His sadness. His desperate, sleepless longing to be accepted by society. The constant hunger to find someone who could rip out the layers of loneliness buried deep inside him.

Flipping open to a blank page, Arthur wrote:

Truth is a weerd funny thing. I was always told to tell the truth and to not tell lies. But this morning when I gave the sign back to Kenny, he didnt beleeve me when I told him I got jumped. I tried telling him about the kids that stole the sign and hit me on the head with it, but he caled me a liar. Didnt care I tried putting the sign back togethur eiether. He was anoyed, but thats not the wurst part. He caled Hoyt and Hoyt didnt beleeve me either! Now hes take taking money out of my pay chek, but I dont understand why! I gave the sign back! Its like no mattur what I say, people think Im lieing...but Im not! You try telling the truth and its like NO ONE KAR CARES!

Taking a puff of his cigarette, Arthur inhaled, then exhaled deeply. He tossed his pen aside and shook his head in frustration. Both Kenny and Hoyt didn't believe him. The words 'liar, liar, pants on fire' jumped to mind. Even as a kid, Arthur had always told nothing but the truth. But sadly, telling the truth didn't always keep you out of the choppy seas of trouble. Sadly, more often than not, it was the slippery, sneaky liars that snuck under people's skin, getting away with almost anything and everything.

Even if Arthur did want to kiss the truth goodbye and try his luck at lying, it was no use. Between his uncontrollable laughing, people constantly seeing him as weird and not feeling comfortable around him, how could he ever lie successfully?

Breathing out a thick cloud of smoke, he picked up the pen again. Twirling it between his fingers, he cast his gaze back onto his journal. As terrible as the day had been, he felt a ray of warmth trickling through him. All through him it flowed, kissing every part of him like joyous sunshine on a summer day.

It wasn't long before his frown swapped places with a smile. Slowly his lips curled upward, while the soft green of his eyes sparkled with flecks of...happiness. A rare, but lovely happiness that didn't visit often. Tonight, it was knocking on his door. And he was all too thrilled to let it in.

Feeling suddenly awake, Arthur opened to a blank page. Still smiling, he began writing:

Her name is Aubrey Speck. Shes the angul who saved my life. Id be ded dead if she didnt stop those kids. I still cant beeliev beleve she drove me home when Im just a strangur. Then she helped cleen me up, and didnen didnt even seem to care how skinny I am...or that I smell like smoke...or that I live with my mother. Shes like the person I didn't know existid. And the best part of all? I think she actually wants to see me again! Me! ARTHUR FLECK! A nobody. A freek. Nothing spechal at all. I cant wait to see her again. As bad as today was, I couldnt stop thinking about her. I hope I wont scare her off or do anything stoopid or embarissing. I relly, relly hope she likes my jokes and finds me funny.

Unable to wipe the smile off his face, Arthur closed his notebook. Tapping his feet against the carpeted floor, he made up his mind then and there: tomorrow he was going to make the first move. No hiding under the covers. No chickening out like a certified coward. How could he when she lived right next-door? She could have lived deep in the city, an hour away, but she didn't. She was now his next-door neighbour, and he couldn't be happier.

I'll just knock on her door, smile, and ask if she wants to hang out, he thought, finishing the last of his cigarette. Piece of cake. Somewhere inside him he felt the spark of something that was all but foreign to him: confidence. It was a fresh helping of confidence, kindly dished up to a man who was practically starving for even a morsel of it.

Shutting off the lights, Arthur packed it in for the night. Settling down in his usual spot on the old, but comfy-enough couch, he prepared for sleep. But he'd gotten himself too worked up, and he was now less tired than ever. He couldn't push her out of his mind. She was stuck there like crazy glue. And the thought of what tomorrow could bring, well...how could he possibly nod off when he'd be seeing Aubrey again?

Needless to say, Arthur was a very light sleeper that night.

Arthur had it all planned out. Knock on Aubrey's door and ask if she'd like to hang out for the day. Before leaving his apartment, he made sure to spend an extra minute brushing his teeth. The last thing he wanted was the girl next door catching an unpleasant whiff of morning breath mixed with the distinct smell of nicotine. Afraid that wasn't good enough, he swished around with a bottle of minty mouthwash. He even refrained from having his morning cigarette, difficult as that was. If he was going to be seeing this woman again, he wanted to smell nice.

Walking up to her door, he held up his hand to knock...and stopped. He briefly looked himself over. Though his clothes were old and nothing fancy, he'd dug through what clothes he did have, desperate to find something nice. He'd picked out what he hoped was his nicest white shirt and navy-blue cardigan. He debated about wearing a tie, but decided against it; he was aiming for casual, not fancy.

It's not a date, he reminded himself, hand hovering in front of the wooden door of apartment 8I. You're just hanging out...that's all...nothing more. Don't...don't get carried away.

What Arthur wanted most in the world was to knock on this woman's door.

He was standing right there!

In...front...of...her...door!

"What're you waiting for?" he whispered, slipping his fingers through his curls of brown hair. "Just...just knock!"

He tried. Truly he did.

But he couldn't.

Whatever confidence he'd had last night had gone adios. See ya later. Too-da-loo.

Arthur wanted to cry. So badly he wanted to see this woman again, yet he was too cowardly to even knock on her apartment door! How in Gotham was he going to get to know this girl if he couldn't even make the first move?

With a defeated sigh, he turned and left.

Back into his apartment he went. What it took for him not to slam the door shut behind him. But his mother was still sleeping. It wouldn't be fair to disrupt her sleep because he couldn't keep his emotions under control.

"I'm a coward," he uttered, flopping down on the couch. Over and over again he kept thinking: Coward...coward...coward. His eyes fell on the satin, white pillow beside him. With an angry cry that couldn't be contained, he grabbed the pillow and flung it across the room. Hands trembling in frustration, he reached for his lighter and cigarette.

Today was supposed to be a Saturday chock full of wonderful possibilities.

Now it was going to be yet another extra-large heap of disappointment.

What else is new? thought Arthur in discouragement.

In his journal, he scribbled furiously:

I cant believe I fucked up! How did I fuck up something as simple as knoking on someones door? Guess Im a bigger coward then I thought. All I want is to see her again, yet I cant even reach out to her. And if I dont make the first move, what if she doesn't forgets about me? I really hope she doesnt. I dont wanna lose her. I know we just met but...but this is the most anyones ever talked to me. I dont want this to go away. I just have to hope she meant what she said when she was over here. If Im too scared to do anything, maybe shell come to me? I think wonder if shes thought about me at all?

Arthur spent the rest of the day thinking of Aubrey. So hard he tried distracting himself, keeping busy in whatever ways he could. But the girl was like sticky peanut butter; he just couldn't shake her from his mind. When he dished his mother up a simple TV dinner for supper, he wondered what kind of foods Aubrey liked eating. Even setting his eyes on the paintings in their apartment, Arthur couldn't help wondering what her paintings looked like. The longer he thought about it, the more he longed to see even one of them.

Slipping deeper into his fantasies, he imagined what it would be like to have her paint a portrait of him. To watch her study his face with unbroken focus, as if he were a complex, gorgeous work of art. How lovely that would be.

When evening arrived, Arthur told himself not to panic.

Not yet anyway.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, settling in for another sleepless night. "Tomorrow I'll talk to her. And if I don't, maybe...maybe she'll make the first move? Maybe she'll remember me and want to talk to me again?"

Sunday unfolded no differently than Saturday.

Again Arthur made the short walk to Aubrey's apartment.

Again he stood there, hand hovering inches in front of her door.

Again he tried knocking.

Again he couldn't bring himself to.

Again he felt like a total and utter coward.

Storming back to his own apartment, he slammed the door shut behind him, not caring who heard.

Later that night, Arthur was writing furiously in his journal. While his mother slept soundly, he wrote and wrote until he felt his fingers would fall off.

Its been two days since I met Aubrey. I...I thought she wanted to see me again, but guess she was just lying so she wouldnt say how she relly felt: that she didnt want to see me again. I cant blame her. Im not boring and not speshal or atractive like other guys. I wish I was...but Im not. I never will be. If only I wasnt so fucking scared to knock on her door and say hi. I wish I had her number. I want to call her so badly, but I know Id just hang up the minute she picked up anyway. Maybe she reelized how lame it is I still live my mother and would rather keep her diss distance. I guess theres always tomorow. I dont want to forget about her...even if shes forgoten about me. I hope I get some sleep tonight. At least I can still see her again in my dreams.

When Monday rolled around, Arthur waited for Aubrey to come knocking on his door. Knowing he'd never work up the courage to knock on her door, he hoped she'd come by and pay him a visit. Even if it was just a short visit. By that point, he craved her company so fiercely, even a minute with her would be like a minute in heaven.

Much to Arthur's disappointment, she didn't.

Tonight, he didn't feel like watching the Murray Franklin show. He didn't feel like anything or anyone could put a smile on his face. It was starting to become clear Aubrey didn't care to see him again.

And it killed him inside.

Guess there's always tomorrow, he thought tiredly, though his hope was draining fast.

But when Tuesday arrived, he heard no knocking on his door. Nothing but awful, terrible silence.

Still he held out hopes that maybe, just maybe, she'd pop over Wednesday.

As he feared, he didn't hear from her Wednesday.

Or Thursday.

Or Friday.

By the weekend, Arthur's hopes had been crushed into a thousand pieces. So painfully obvious it now was that when she'd said she'd see him around, she hadn't meant spend time together. What she'd probably meant was: see you around when we bump into each other in the elevator after work. He felt his heart aching. How foolish he'd been thinking she'd want to take time out of her life to spend time with awkward, uninteresting Arthur Fleck who smelled like nicotine. He realized she likely forgot about him the moment she left his apartment that night she'd helped tend to his injuries.

It hurt like hell, but it didn't surprise him. How could it when he was as forgettable as yesterday's newspaper? He just wasn't naturally funny like his favorite comedian Murray Franklin. Wasn't confident like his constantly cocky co-worker at Ha-Has, Randall.

At the end of the day, Arthur Fleck just wasn't memorable.

After preparing the usual TV dinner for his mother, Arthur sank down into the couch. Normally, he'd join her on her bed as they watched their favorite show together. But he wasn't in the mood tonight. After having no choice but to accept that Aubrey was now gone out of his life, he needed some time to himself.

On the table in front of him was his journal and pen.

He sat upright, staring down at them as if spiraling headfirst into a trance. A slight chuckle fought to climb up out of his throat, but he covered his mouth. No go. In seconds, he was laughing away, riding out his uncontrollable laughter as best he could. Tears welling up in his sea-green eyes, he snatched up his pen, leaned over, and let all his anger, puzzlement, and loneliness out:

I shuld have known this was too good to be tru. No ones ever wanted to do anything with me. Why did I think shed want to here any of my jokes when shes probbly got a funny boyfrend who can make her laugh? I never shuld have let her drive me home. I shuld have just taken the bus. Then I never wouldnt have met her. I just wish I culd get hur out of my head and cuz it hurts to much thinking about her. I was so happy seeing her smile at me, but I was stuped thinking Id ever see her again. Im sad, but Ive always been alone. For my whole life, I didnt know if I even relly existid...and obeeusly I dont...cuz people dont notice. Shes forgoten about me, just like everyone else dos does. If I can somehow just get her out of my head, maybe I can move on and pretend we didn't never even met and I can just stop hoping Ill ever meet someone who cares about me :(

Tossing the pen aside, Arthur rubbed his face tiredly. So caught up in his own emotions, he hadn't noticed the tears sliding down his cheeks. The page in his notebook was wet with his tears, the black writing from the pen now smudged. With an annoyed groan, he flung the notebook across the room.

"I never should have gotten in that car," Arthur murmured, sniffing back a fresh bout of tears. "Then I never would have met her, and wouldn't be sitting here thinking how much of an idiot I am cuz I thought she—"

Knock-knock-knock.

Arthur's eyes flickered lazily toward the door. He couldn't imagine who'd be knocking on his door. No one ever cared to swing by and see Mr. Fleck. It wasn't like he was a popular guy who residents always enjoyed chatting with. Most a

Probably just some kids, he thought, slowly making his way toward the door. Probably knocking on the door and running away. It wouldn't surprise him to see a bunch of pranking kids hurrying down the hallway, sniggering in amusement. Gotham was littered with troublemakers, after all.

When he opened the door, his mouth fell open. Immediately he pulled himself together, not wanting to look like the world's biggest fool.

"A-Aubrey!" Arthur stammered, sounding as surprised as he looked. "It"—he cleared his throat—"nice again to see you." He wanted to kick himself for stumbling on his words like a babbling idiot. Get it together, man! "I mean...it's nice to see you. T-that's what I meant to say." Desperately trying to do damage control, he put on a small smile.

"Hey, Arthur," she said quietly. "I, uh...I meant to come by earlier this week, but, um—" She dropped her gaze and bit her lip. Arthur watched her silently, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to cry.

Not knowing how to react, he stood there awkwardly.

"Sorry," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. She recollected herself and asked, "Are...are you doing anything next weekend, for Thanksgiving?"

Arthur knew exactly what he'd be doing next weekend. It would be the same as every other Thanksgiving. Not being much of a cook, Arthur would prepare the simplest meal he could make for his mother – the one meal he could make and not mess up – a turkey TV dinner. It was as close to a homemade turkey dinner as they could get: slices of turkey, dressing, gravy, a helping of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a small serving of vegetables. Of course, it could never compare to the fresh, mouth-watering taste of a freshly-cooked feast prepared at special holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. But it was the best he could do.

"Well, uh," he said, his cheeks flushing red. "My Mom and I'll just have a small dinner here, but nothing big. We don't usually do anything big for holidays or—"

"Do you want to come over?" she asked suddenly. "For Thanksgiving, I mean?" Arthur listened to the tone of her voice. It almost sounded as if Aubrey wanted him there for Thanksgiving. "I..It's just going to be me, if you and your Mom wanted to join me."

Arthur tried forming a response, but his mouth had gone dry. Just minutes ago, he was convinced he'd never see or hear from Aubrey Speck again...yet here she was, at his door, asking if he wanted to spend Thanksgiving Day with her. Talk about a total three-sixty! It was all happening so fast, he didn't know quite what to make of this.

Aubrey shook her head and smiled nervously. "I-It's okay if you don't want to. If you guys would rather—"

"I'd love to!" Arthur blurted out a little too enthusiastically. He gave a fake cough and spoke in a calmer, more casual tone. "I mean, yeah, we'd love to. Sure. Sounds good." He ended with a smile, but had to force himself not to smile like it was one of the happiest days of his life...because it was.

Aubrey smiled in return, but Arthur saw something deep in her eyes. Somewhere in the soft blues of her eyes was that unmistakable layer of...loneliness. He could read it plain as day, for he saw the same loneliness in his own eyes every day. All he wanted was to ask her if she was okay and if there was anything he could do, but he stayed silent. It's none of your business, he thought, keeping quiet.

"Great," she said, her voice barely reaching a whisper. "See you next weekend then?"

"Yeah," Arthur quickly replied. "Yeah...of course."

Giving one last smile, Aubrey turned and left. Arthur wanted to keep staring at her, but closed the door behind him. No doubt, he thought, she'd think him a creep if he stood there watching her like a little boy slammed with the biggest crush. And if they were going to be spending the holiday together, no way did he want her thinking negatively of him.

Unable to stop smiling, he returned to the couch.

He was laughing again. Not the painful, irritable laugh that pounced at all the worst times.

This was real, genuine laughter. Laughter so deep it brought tears to his eyes, but not tears of sadness - tears of joy. Joy that dances round and round in your heart, swinging you round in circles until you're dizzy, but still bursting with joy.

For the first time in forever, he was going to be spending a holiday with someone besides his mother.

For the rest of the night, he started planning.

I'll have to wear something nice.

I should probably get some new cologne.

And make sure my hair's slicked back so I don't look scruffy.

Finally Arthur dozed off with a smile on his face.