CHAPTER SIX

THANKSGIVING DAY

It was the twenty-sixth of November. Arthur was up bright and early. Thursdays weren't usually special days for him. He'd wake up, get dressed, take the bus into work, then take the bus back home, cook his mother supper, spend some time writing in his journal, then try and get some sleep. One Thursday was no different than the other.

Today, however, was going to be quite different.

It was Thanksgiving Day. Normally he and his mother celebrated the popular holiday in their apartment, quietly enjoying a not-so-festive TV dinner. With no other family to join them, it had always been he and his mother, just she and him for years and years.

Later that afternoon, he and his mother would be sharing Thanksgiving Day with their next-door neighbour, Aubrey Speck. From the minute he sprung out of bed, Arthur's excitement was at an all-time high. Finally he was going to see the woman who'd saved his life again! Gone were his fears of Aubrey wanting nothing at all to do with the man next door. Shocking as it was, she'd invited him – a man who, up until then, was never invited to anything.

Gone were the days of feeling like insignificant wallpaper.

A new day was dawning.

The day Arthur Fleck felt noticed for the first time in his life.

"How'd you meet this girl, Happy?" Penny asked her son as he helped wash her hair. Her voice was filled with curiosity. "Does she work at Ha-Has with you?"

Arthur filled the bucket with warm water, raising it over his mother's head. "Look up," he instructed. As she lifted her head, he gently splashed the water over her face, trailing his fingers through her hair.

"No," he said, Aubrey's shy smile still glued in his mind. "We met on the elevator one night when we were getting off work. We talked for a bit, and she asked if we wanted to go over for Thanksgiving."

Of course he didn't tell her how he'd really met Aubrey. Not wanting to pile any more worry onto his mother's shoulders, he never told her how society treated him. All the beatings, the name-calling, the rejections – he kept it all buried deep inside. Penny Fleck was a frail woman. He feared learning how difficult her son had it would cause her stress to skyrocket. He didn't need her health getting any worse.

So to protect her, he kept it boggled up inside.

"But she doesn't know you," his mother said, blinking the water out of her eyes. "And you don't know her. Why would she invite us over?"

Arthur shrugged silently.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, rubbing conditioner into her hair. As he did with the shampoo, he gently laced his fingers through her hair. "Maybe she's lonely like us. I...I don't know if she has any family around, so maybe she just doesn't want to spend the holiday alone."

Penny considered this, then nodded.

"I'm happy you've found a friend," she said to her son. "And one who lives so close, too."

Arthur smiled, but he knew it was too early to call he and the girl next-door friends. Yes, she'd intervened when he desperately needed help, drove him home and helped tidy him up, but that didn't automatically make them friends. Of course, he wanted nothing more than to have Aubrey like him enough to call him a friend.

For that to happen, he thought, he'd have to make a good second impression.

No, he quickly told himself.

Not just a good second impression.

If he wanted friendship, he'd have to make a great second impression.

"Uh, Ma?" said Arthur as he squeezed the water out of her hair. She tilted her head up and raised a brow expectantly.

"When...when we're there," he said, fidgeting with his fingers. "Can you maybe...well...what I mean to say is"—He dropped his gaze when he felt his mother staring up at him firmly—"can you, um...can you try not to ask too many questions?"

"What makes you think I'd do that?" she asked in a shocked tone. It was like he'd asked the most ridiculous question in the history of ridiculous questions.

"No, I...I just meant," he stammered, still keeping his gaze on the floor. "Well...this is the first time I've ever had dinner with someone, and"—his cheeks flushed cherry red—"with it being a woman and all, I...I just don't want her feeling uncomfortable, that's all."

"Happy," Penny told him, laying a hand atop his. "I can assure you I'd never do such a thing." Arthur could hear the radio swapping out The Moon is a Silver Dollar for Send in the Clowns. He could vaguely hear the lyrics of the popular song, but his focus was on his mother. Believing his mother wouldn't bombard Aubrey with a boatload of questions wasn't easy. The woman was obsessed with billionaire Thomas Wayne. Day after day, she'd mail him a letter, convinced the man would respond to at least one of her letters. Time and again Arthur told her not to get her hopes up, but the woman was stubborn. Despite her son recommending she not pin all her hopes on such a busy man taking notice of their living conditions, still she refused to listen. Still she went on writing more letters than Arthur could keep count of.

"Mom?" said Arthur, keeping his tone calm. "Just promise me you won't ask her any personal questions, okay? We don't know her enough to start asking stuff like that. Let's keep any talking simple, okay?"

"What do you suggest we talk about then?" she said, elevating her brows. "If we're meeting someone, shouldn't we at least get to know them?"

"Well, sure," Arthur answered. "But slowly. I...I'm not that good at social stuff, but I think we should stick to talking about stuff like...I dunno...the weather."

"But, Happy!" she protested. "The weather's so boring. Everyone talks about the weather..."

"Exactly," said Arthur, carefully helping his mother out of the tub. He handed her a towel, which she wrapped herself up in before stepping out onto the striped mat. "That must mean it's a good conversation starter."

"A boring one..." his mother mumbled.

Arthur watched her make her way into her bedroom. He really hoped his mother wouldn't blurt out anything embarrassing about him. What he wanted more than anything was a normal, drama-free dinner with Aubrey. But knowing his chatty mother, he wasn't convinced she wouldn't ask the girl whatever she felt like asking her.

He sighed and made his way into the living room. He was suddenly wishing Aubrey hadn't invited his mother. As much as he loved his mother, what if she ruined everything? Here he had a real shot at planting the seeds of a friendship – a real friendship – with Aubrey. How unfortunate it would be if his mother scared her away, obliterating any hopes of lonely Arthur finding even one friend in the world.

Or worse, he thought with growing dread, what if he pushed her away? His insides twisted into painful knots at the possibility. He was already an expert at having people keep their distance from him, as if his strange and awkward ways were contagious.

Say the wrong thing, he thought, his panic escalating. Ask the wrong thing...look at her in a weird way...and she'll never want to see or talk to me again.

Arthur inhaled deeply. He held his breath for a few seconds, then exhaled. Worrying about what may or may not happen wasn't doing him any good. Instead of fretting over all the ways tonight could turn out disastrous, he shoved it out of his mind.

It was Thanksgiving Day. And he certainly had much to be thankful for today.

The only person who'd ever shown him such kindness had invited him over for dinner.

He smiled softly and let out a chuckle.

Yes. He had lots to be thankful for.

While Penny did her hair and picked out some clothes, Arthur did likewise.

He didn't have many clothes. Where most had a closet stuffed with clothes, Arthur had only a few of everything. A few sweaters, some cardigans, a couple of shirts and just enough pants to get him through the workweek. His clothes weren't fashionable, but functional and what most in Gotham would describe as...boring.

He couldn't be boring. Not tonight. Not when he'd be sharing dinner with the next-door neighbour he hadn't stopped thinking about since he'd first laid eyes on her in that damp, smelly alley.

I have to be interesting, he thought desperately, flinging one of his old shirts onto the threadbare couch. Beside this he threw a sandy-brown hoodie. Or she'll never wanna see me again!

"What to wear?" he murmured, sitting on the edge of the couch. "What do I wear?" Laid out in front of him on the coffee table were two cardigans. One was a navy blue, the other bright orange. Back and forth went his rapidly blinking eyes. "Blue or orange?" He shook his head, rubbing his forehead as if he had a giant migraine. "I dunno..."

After a stressful few minutes, he went with the blue. He trailed his fingers down the fabric. Both the cardigan and white button-up shirt were wrinkled and looked like they'd been trampled on. Arthur quickly remedied this by grabbing the iron to smooth out every wrinkle. Soon his clothes were without a wrinkle and looking ready to wear.

Running his fingers through his mop of unkempt hair, he frowned. No way was he going to spend Thanksgiving dinner with Aubrey without tidying up his hair first. Normally Arthur didn't do much with his hair. Most days it was greasy and dishevelled, but today was a special occasion. In preparation of such an occasion, he'd bought himself a new shampoo and conditioner. Showing up at Aubrey's apartment with unwashed, uncombed hair would never do. The last thing he wanted her thinking was that he'd crawled out of bed and was too lazy to so much as shower.

Holding up one of his mother's mirrors, he styled his hair as best he could. He took his time, weaving the comb through his hair, hoping he could somehow pull off the 'slicked-back' style that was so popular amongst the comedians at Pogos. Striving for perfection – or as close to perfection as Arthur could get – he slapped on a bit of hair gel. At first, he feared he'd used too much. But he realized it was the butterflies fluttering madly about in his stomach, pushing his anxiety meter higher and higher.

Holding the mirror up for a closer look, he sighed. An enormous weight of relief lifted off his shoulders.

For what felt like the first time in his life, he actually looked...presentable. It wasn't perfect; he wouldn't say he looked ready to sweep a girl off her feet and take her on an unforgettable date. But he had succeeding in swapping out his normally tired appearance for something fresher and more energetic.

Staring more closely at the man in the mirror, Arthur noticed something.

He looked alive. Something in his green eyes seemed to be sparkling. They say eyes are windows to the soul. This couldn't be truer with Arthur. Deep in his eyes shone such excitement, he swore his eyes looked three times brighter.

Pleased though he was, he reminded himself not to get too excited. He still didn't possess that irresistible charm so many lucky men seemed born with. That seemingly effortless sexiness that made women weak at the knees with so much as a flirtatious wink. But for Arthur Fleck, it was enough to make him feel like he might just have a chance at feeling something he rarely felt.

Normal.

"Happy, are you ready?"

Arthur turned to see his mother emerging from her bedroom. She was wearing a black silk blouse, grey trousers, and a necklace of coal-black pearls that had been passed down to her from her mother. Arthur noticed her face was awash with makeup – mascara, rosy pink eye shadow, and ruby-red lipstick. He wondered if she'd maybe gone a little overboard with the makeup, but said nothing; he was no expert on women.

He was surprised. His mother usually dressed in more festive colors in celebration of holidays – red and green for Christmas, orange and black for Halloween, red and pink for Valentine's Day. On Thanksgiving Day, she'd always gone with orange, yellows and browns.

There was none of that today. From head to toe she was dressed solely in various shades of black, grey and white. Looking his mother over, the one word that jumped to Arthur's mind was: solemn. Instead of going for bright, cheery colors, the woman was dressed like she was on her way to a funeral.

"Yeah, Ma," he answered.

"You look nice," she commented. She sounded surprised. "You're all dressed up like this is a big date."

"It's not a date, Mom," he corrected. "It...it's just dinner, that's all." He shrugged, saying, "Besides, I know she's probably already got a boyfriend and"—His voice grew quieter—"who'd want me as a boyfriend anyway? I'm nothing special."

"Well, you're a very special son," Penny told him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I couldn't ask for a better son than you, Happy."

Arthur smiled in appreciation.

There was a brief stretch of silence.

"Ma?" said Arthur awkwardly.

"Mhm?"

"Do you think, maybe," he began, buttoning up his cardigan. "Well, could you maybe not call me Happy in front of Aubrey?"

"What's wrong with me calling you Happy?" she shot back, sounding hurt.

"Nothing," Arthur quickly replied. "It's just...maybe it would be better if you just called me Arthur tonight."

"I don't see what the problem is," she muttered. "It's just a nickname..."

"Please, Ma," Arthur pleaded softly. "I...I just want this girl to like me." He didn't know Aubrey. For all he knew, she'd think a mother calling her thirty-five-year-old son 'Happy' was weird. More than ever he feared his mother would send tonight plunging straight into the deep depths of disaster.

But he could be worrying for nothing. Perhaps Aubrey was as nice as she seemed and wouldn't mind his mother's quirkiness. If he was lucky, maybe she'd even think his mother giving him a nickname was cute. He figured that was pushing it, but it never hurt to hope.

"We should head over now," Penny said, already making her way to the front door. Arthur knew she'd heard him, but knew she was just being her usual self. "She told us to be there for six."

Arthur nodded silently.

Before following her out into the hall, he shot one last at himself in the mirror on the wall. There was no turning back now. Waiting for him next door was a woman Arthur hoped would become part of his life. Having grown up without a single friend (aside from his mother), more than ever he longed for friendship. Where some had scores of friends, he'd be on top of the world with even a single friend.

After all, he reminded himself, one true friend was all he needed to cast aside his layers of loneliness.

"Alright," Arthur said, letting out a shaky breath. "Let's go."

A minute later, the two were standing outside apartment 8I.

"Aren't you going to knock?" said Penny, raising a brow.

"Y-yeah," said Arthur, shaking himself together. "Yeah, of course..."

Arthur's hand was shaking. But it didn't change what he had to do.

He knocked on Aubrey's door, heart pounding in his chest.

He tapped his foot nervously. What it took for him not to beeline back to his apartment, shut the door and call the whole night off.

But he was here now.

When he heard a familiar voice call "coming" he stood up a little straighter.

Seconds later, Aubrey was opening the door.

Arthur's first thought was: she's so beautiful. Her hair was curled tonight, each lock shiny and so silky black, all he wanted was to weave his fingers through it. Unlike his mother – who'd slapped on more than enough makeup – Aubrey's was much more subtle. A little mascara, just enough to lengthen her lashes. A light coating of Bubblegum-pink lipstick. She wore a simple dress, red as roses that fell to her ankles. Dangling from her neck was a diamond necklace shaped as a tiny silver heart.

His second thought was how small she looked. She was shorter than him by a couple inches, but what stood out was her tiny frame. For a brief moment, he wondered if she – like him – was self-conscious about her appearance. He could see it in her eyes – that recognizable flicker of insecurity that he was no stranger to. All he wanted was to blurt out how beautiful and perfect she looked, but he kept his mouth shut. While he wanted nothing more than to do so, tonight's goal was to make her like him, not have her think he was hitting on her.

Aubrey swallowed and gave a small, welcoming smile.

"Hi."

"Hey, Aubrey," said Arthur, his lips curving up in a smile. He feared he'd never make it through the night if this girl kept smiling. Something about her smile, the way it lit up her face made him unable to think clearly. He wanted to blurt out "you're beautiful" but bit his tongue. It didn't help that as he inhaled, he caught a faint, unmistakable whiff of perfume. He was reminded of sweet flowers in springtime.

He gestured to his mother, saying, "This is my mother, Penny Fleck."

Aubrey held her hand out. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Fleck."

"Please, call me Penny," the woman replied, offering her the smallest of smiles. She shook Aubrey's hand, looking back at her son, as if waiting for him to decide what next to say or do.

As for Arthur, he was too busy staring at Aubrey. So long it felt like since he'd last seen her. It had only been a week, but a week felt more like a month for him. But now here he was again with Aubrey, about to share Thanksgiving dinner with her.

"Hope you're hungry," she said, inviting her guests inside. "Cuz there's lots to eat."

While he was looking forward to a feast, Arthur was more thrilled at getting to spend the evening with Aubrey. So long as he could keep his bundle of nerves from exploding, tonight might just be a night he could actually enjoy. And if his uncontrollable laughter broke free of its cage, thankfully Aubrey was already aware of his condition. It didn't keep him from feeling ashamed, but at least he needn't fear she'd kick him out of her apartment.

Stepping further inside, Arthur realized her apartment wasn't much bigger than his own. A quick look around showed him – like his – it was a one-bedroom apartment. It was a small, simple place with a kitchen, bathroom, living room, dining room and a bedroom. The furniture wasn't remarkable. It looked worn and old, but still cosy enough. Paintings hung along the flower-themed walls, most depicting gorgeous countryside. Staring at each canvas in turn, he wondered if Aubrey also longed to escape Gotham one day. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sketched a perfect picture of the two running away together, hand in hand, running wherever their hearts desired.

Like Arthur, Aubrey also took care in keeping her home tidy. Nothing seemed out of place, and to his excitement, he spotted no framed photos of potential boyfriends. None on the mantel over the fireplace, none on the coffee tables, and none hanging on the walls.

Arthur's heart gave a great leap.

Perhaps Aubrey didn't have a boyfriend. Maybe, he thought hopefully, she's waiting for the right guy to come along. His heart gave an even greater leap at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could be that guy for her.

But he didn't have long to think this. As she led them over to the dining room, Arthur's gaze fell upon the table.

What he smelled and saw was nothing he'd ever experienced.

Laid out before them was nothing short of a feast. Arthur's eyes widened as he looked from one dish to the next. Shining at the center of the table was a plump turkey, cooked and stuffed to glorious perfection. The longer he stared, the more he felt his mouth watering in anticipation; never had he seen such food or so much of it. There was a large pot of steaming potatoes, mashed, buttered and ready for eating. There was peas, corn, squash, carrots, rolls, a saucer of gravy that smelled heavenly and a pumpkin pie for dessert. Champagne glasses stood tall beside each white plate, filled with a sparkling drink Arthur guessed must be wine.

Even the table was decorated in celebration of Thanksgiving Day. Arthur spotted a cornucopia, along with several small pumpkins, fake leaves scattered across the table, and a few softly burning candles.

"You made all this?" Arthur asked, his mouth hanging open. It was obvious this girl enjoyed cooking. The most Arthur could do was pop a TV dinner in the microwave, or boil a pot of noodles, but a homemade turkey dinner? He wouldn't know where to begin with preparing such a meal.

Aubrey nodded. "When you live alone, you do all the cooking yourself."

"It smells lovely, dear," Penny commented.

When the three were seated, still Arthur couldn't take his eyes off Aubrey. He felt for sure this must all be a dream. Sitting at her table in her apartment about to share Thanksgiving Day dinner with her? It all felt too good to be true. But when he pinched his forearm, he realized it wasn't a dream at all.

It was real.

Oh-so-beautiful reality.

"Thanks for inviting us," Arthur said, swallowing a lump of shyness. "You didn't have to make all this extra food for us."

"Yes, thank you," Penny added. "It was very thoughtful."

"Holidays can be lonely," she answered thoughtfully. "It's always nice having people to celebrate them with."

Arthur couldn't agree more. All his life he'd never celebrated any holiday with anyone other than his mother. It was a new, but wonderfully good feeling now sharing it with the woman who'd saved his life.

Penny wasn't shy piling her plate with food. Arthur watched wordlessly as she carved a large slice of turkey. Next she dove into the mashed potatoes, then the vegetables and stuffing. Arthur thought he could hear her stomach growling as she poured a generous helping of gravy onto her dinner.

Arthur, meanwhile, sat staring round at the various dishes. Like his mother, his stomach was also rumbling up a storm. Most days, he never ate much. He'd eat the odd snack throughout the day, but he'd never had much of an appetite.

Taking in this scrumptious-looking meal, however, sent his appetite was knocking overtime. He hardly knew what to pile onto his plate first. He wasn't used to seeing so much food. He felt like he was sitting at an all you can eat buffet.

Without a word, he carved himself a thin slice of turkey. It was the same with the vegetables and stuffing; he took small portions. When finished, he went to pick up his fork and knife, but hesitated. Where his mother was already digging in, Arthur stared down at the food in disbelief.

When he caught Aubrey's gaze on him, he looked away. He wanted to curse himself for acting so bashful around her. If he was going to make this evening work, it sure wasn't going to happen by him sitting there like a shy child whose tongue was in knots. But it wasn't easy when he was sitting right next to her. His mother sat opposite him, not even noticing her son hadn't yet taken a bite.

"Take more food than that, Arthur," Aubrey encouraged. "It's only the three of. Take as much as you want."

Arthur stared at her, wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say. He wasn't used to anyone being this nice to him. Even his mother, though she loved her son, could throw comments at him that weren't exactly the nicest. And while Aubrey said nothing more, Arthur studied the look in her eyes closely. It was like she could read his mind, impossible as that seemed. The kindness radiating from them spoke a thousand words, words Arthur tried so hard to hear.

"This is okay," he said quietly, fiddling with his fork. "I...I get full quickly..."

"C'mon," she cajoled, gently sliding the pot of potatoes towards him. "It's Thanksgiving Day." Seeing the smile spreading across her face, Arthur felt his insides break out in a happy little dance. He could have sat there forever just staring at this girl's smile.

His cheeks burned red as he scooped more onto his plate. The mouth-watering aroma wafting up his nostrils was driving him mad. The forgettable smell of TV dinners paled in comparison to this impressive feast. He couldn't decide what smelled loveliest. The buttery, creamy potatoes? The sweet and spicy pumpkin pie? The salty gravy?

The food tasted even better than it smelled.

One bite and Arthur was in love. Never had his taste buds been treated to such scrumptious flavors. Each bite proved tastier than the last. He chewed slowly, wanting to relish each and every mouthful.

"This is...this is amazing," said Arthur, holding back a burp. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if he belched in front of Aubrey. He figured he'd probably die of embarrassment.

Aubrey flashed him an appreciative smile.

"Happy, could you pass the rolls, please?"

"Mom!" Arthur groaned. Under his breath, he muttered, "I told you not to call me that..." Immediately he felt his cheeks glow red with embarrassment. After asking his mother several times not to call him Happy, she'd just done the exact opposite of what he'd asked.

"I-It's a nickname," Arthur explained to Aubrey. A small chuckle slipped from his lips. His hand went to his throat as the familiar sensation of incoming laughter emerged. Another chuckle, followed by another. After a moment of letting it all out, he finally had it under control.

Arthur relaxed slightly when he saw Aubrey smile at him.

But when she let out a small chuckle, he tensed up again.

"I know," he said, setting his fork down. Just like that, his appetite was gone. "It's embarrassing..."

"No," she said, sending him a reassuring smile. "I'm not laughing at you. I think it's cute."

Arthur wasn't expecting this.

"Y-you don't think it's...lame?"

She shook her head. "I wish I had a nickname." She shrugged, saying, "No one's ever given me one."

I can give you one, thought Arthur, staring at her in adoration. Angel. That's what you are: an angel.

While they ate, Penny initiated much of the conversation. Arthur tried diving in with questions or remarks of her own, but his mother was chatting overtime tonight. Arthur wasn't surprised; the woman did love to talk. What made him want to hide under the table was the fact that she was doing the exact thing he specifically asked her not to do.

"So, Aubrey," Penny said casually. "Do you live alone?"

"Mom!" Arthur scolded, eyes flickering back and forth between the women. "I...that's not really appropriate to be asking—"

"Oh, it's okay," said Aubrey. She dipped her roll into a pile of gravy, took a bite and went on, "Yeah, it's just me here. It's always been just me."

"You're...not in a relationship?" Penny said, pouring herself another glass of wine.

Arthur bit his lip, trying hard not to explode. Why couldn't this woman just ask non-personal questions? Knowing his mother, he knew she was just getting started. If he didn't derail this train – and fast – the night would crash and burn for sure.

Aubrey opened her mouth to answer when—

"Nice weather we've been having, huh?" Arthur piped in enthusiastically. He deflated for a moment. Weather wasn't exactly the most interesting topic; he hoped he wasn't making things worse by sounding overly excited.

Thankfully, no strange looks from Aubrey.

"Yeah," she agreed, turning to Arthur. She laughed and added, "Can't remember the last time we actually went a whole week without rain. Guess Gotham isn't crappy all the time."

Arthur laughed.

Penny, on the other hand, wasn't as enthused.

"So you're not in a relationship, Aubrey?" she repeated. She smiled sweetly while dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

"No," Aubrey replied quietly. "I, uh...I haven't been in a relationship for a while."

Penny nodded, saying nothing. "And your family? You have any family close by?"

"My...my parents left when I was six," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I...I was in and out of foster homes." She paused, as if the pain of her past was slithering back into her memory, sinking its fangs into her like a snake. "I never really had any parents, cuz I kept moving around so much. In and out of homes."

"I'm sorry, dear," said Penny gently. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been."

Arthur watched Aubrey with sadness in his eyes.

"It's okay," said Aubrey, blinking back tears. She put on a smile and helped herself to another round of carrots. "It was hard, going through most of my life wondering if I even really existed but I got used to it, you know?"

Arthur felt a pang of sorrow upon hearing this. He himself wondered that exact same thing day after day: if he even really existed. She must have sensed this, for the two locked gazes with unspoken understanding. No words were needed; their eyes said everything.

"Thanks for inviting us, Aubrey," said Arthur, taking his last bite of potato. Not a crumb remained on his plate. He was absolutely, positively stuffed. It was hands down the greatest meal of his life. "Mum and I have never had a meal like this before." He chuckled, saying, "I'm not much of a cook."

"Hey, neither am I," she shot back. In a joking tone, she added, "Half the time I'd be lost without my cookbook."

Arthur smiled and broke out laughing. Hearing Aubrey make a joke filled him with a joyous excitement that was almost overpowering. Wherever he went, he could never find people with a sense of humor. Folks were either too cranky, too boring, too serious, too impatient or all of the above.

Much to his delight, Aubrey had a sense of humor.

"Then no wonder I'm always lost in the kitchen," Arthur said goofily. "I don't even have a cookbook."

Arthur couldn't believe what he then heard.

Aubrey was laughing.

Laughing at his joke!

He wished he could memorize the sound of her laugh so he could go on re-playing it in his mind. It was musical, like a song that one never grows tired of hearing.

While Arthur and Aubrey went on laughing, Penny sat across from them, saying nothing. She took a sip of wine, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two laughers. She wasn't smiling, nor was she frowning. She simply watched the unfolding scene, calmly but with intensity.

After making Aubrey laugh, Arthur found his confidence returning. Suddenly he didn't feel so terribly shy around her. During dessert, the two went on chatting as if they had all the time in the world. Much to Arthur's relief, Penny had stopped flinging personal questions at Aubrey. She was now mostly concerned with eating every piece of her pumpkin pie.

"So how long have you and your mother lived here?" asked Aubrey.

"'Bout ten years now," Arthur told her. "We couldn't afford the last apartment. Prices were going up and keeping a job as a party clown wasn't easy. So we moved here, and here we've been since."

"It'd be nice if they cleaned up the place," said Aubrey, twirling her fork across her plate. "But I guess it's hard with so much garbage around..."

Arthur nodded. Nothing looked or smelled nice since the garbage strike had struck.

"Yeah," he said slowly. He smiled and took a shot at cooking up another joke. "Hey, I got a solution for all those super rats."

"What?"

He paused for comedic effect.

A moment later, he held his hands up in a dramatic fashion and exclaimed, "Super cats!"

Another laugh from Aubrey.

"You're funny, Arthur," she said, smiling through her laughter.

Arthur couldn't believe it. Him? Funny? Was he hearing right? Not even his own mother thought him particularly funny ("don't you have to be funny to be a comedian?" she'd asked him more than once). But here was Aubrey straight up telling him she thought he was funny.

Of all the things to be thankful for today, hands down that topped the list.

"That's hear to good," he said, blushing fiercely. "I mean...good to hear. Ya know, If I wanna be a someday comedian. Er...I mean if I wanna be a comedian someday." He smiled awkwardly, feeling his cheeks burn redder than ever.

Under other circumstances, Arthur would have drowned in embarrassment.

But Aubrey's smile seemed to assure him: don't be embarrassed. And as he breathed in the sight of her smiling face, bit by bit he felt his nerves burying themselves. It was a new and alien feeling, but one he didn't want to leave.

For once, he felt genuinely happy.

Happy in a way he hadn't thought possible...until today. Now he knew why so many went through each day, striving for happiness. Why it was chased after and fought for and longed for by everyone. Sitting there with Aubrey, Arthur felt something he hadn't felt in all his life.

He felt home.

He was so happy, in fact, that when the night was drawing to a close, he didn't want to leave. The thought of heading back to his own apartment made his heart sink. No, she wasn't far; she was just next-door. But even then, she'd feel miles away, as if far off in another city, another country even.

But she wouldn't be far, he told himself. Less than a minute's walk away.

Please, he thought with a touch of fear. Please let me see her again.

When they were saying goodbye, Arthur felt a lump in his throat. So much he wanted to say to Aubrey. But where did he begin in telling her this was the best night of his night? The one time where he'd been treated like an actual person? Talked to someone who actually cared about what he had to say?

After thanking her for the dinner, Penny left.

Arthur, however, was in no rush to leave.

"Thanks for coming over," said Aubrey. She sounded as if she meant it too. "Holidays aren't much fun when you're alone..."

"Yeah," Arthur agreed, rocking on his heels. He fell silent momentarily. "Um...I'm sorry 'bout my Mom. She, uh...she has a habit of asking lots of questions and—"

"Oh, that's fine," said Aubrey, waving it off as if it were no biggie. "Your mother seems sweet."

Arthur breathed a silent sigh of relief. By some miracle, he'd managed to get through the night without having it all come crashing down in total disaster. Aside from his mother being her usually nosy self and asking lots of questions, it had been a lovely evening. It was the only night Arthur could recall he'd actually had fun. Having Aubrey laugh at his jokes was the single most amazing thing he'd ever felt.

He was used to being laughed at. Ridiculed and mocked for his uncontrollable laughter that made him the laughing stock wherever he went.

But times were changing.

Finally sunny days looked to be on the horizon.

He was now being laughed at, not because someone thought him pathetic, absurd, and a complete failure, but because one person thought him amusing.

"I...I had a great time tonight," Arthur told her sincerely. "I...I've never"—He paused, searching for the perfect thing to say to her. How to convey to her just how thankful he was for her having treated him so good? He came up with nothing.

Like earlier, it was like Aubrey could read Arthur's expressions. She offered a smile and fixed her gaze on him, as if she too were searching for...something. Her eyes scanned his face, studying his expression the way one examines a complex, breathtaking work of art. It was hard to say who was more lost in the other's eyes, for both seemed unable to take their eyes off one another.

It was Aubrey who yanked herself back to reality.

"Hey, uh," she said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Were you still interested in taking a look at some of my art?"

Arthur wanted to smile, laugh and cry all at once. The night just kept on getting better and better.

"Of course!" he assured her, his tone overflowing with enthusiasm.

"Great," she answered with a smile. "And I wouldn't mind hearing more of your jokes." Her smile broadened as she added coyly, "It's not everyday I meet a comedian."

Comedian? Arthur felt such joy surging through him, he felt he'd burst from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. She called me a comedian! Because she thinks I'm funny!

He said nothing. He simply stood there, smiling so widely his cheeks hurt.

"How about next Friday?" she suggested.

"F-Friday would be great," Arthur stammered, sliding his hands into his pockets. "That'll give me time to come up with jokes some more. I mean...some more jokes." As he always did when stumbling on his words, he smiled awkwardly.

Neither made the first move to leave. Arthur could have stood there all night talking to Aubrey.

But next Friday would come soon enough.

Until then, he'd get through each day, knowing Friday was on its way. Getting closer and closer.

The second he was back in his own apartment, already Arthur missed her. But her smile was etched in his mind, and the sound of her laugh was still playing, like a song that never ends.

He knew he'd sleep well tonight.

Like a calming lullaby that belonged only to him, the sound of her laugh rocked him gently to sleep. That, along with her smile – Arthur believed to most definitely be the smile of an angel – helped him nod off, off to dreamland where it'd be nothing but the sweetest of dreams.