Smile and put on a happy face

Knock knock

To live one day at a time. I try to practice that philosophy. Work at the shoe store is over, everything has been sold. It's a pity because the owner was nice to me. I don't know where Hoyt will send me next. But for now I have to go to my weekly session with the social worker.

- How have you been, Arthur?

- ...

- Arthur...

- Same as always...

- How's your job?

- I was beaten again...twice this week...

- How do you feel?

- How would you feel?

- ...

I light a cigarette.

- Arthur, does it help you to have someone to talk to?

- I don't know...

- Have you been writing your diary?

- Yes.

- Did you bring it with you?

I hand her my notebook.

- I wrote down a few jokes, too...

She opens it and runs through the last pages.

- Have you been having any negative thoughts?

- ...

I light another cigarette.

- Arthur...

- You don't listen do you? You ask the same questions every week. How is your job? Are you having any negative thoughts? All I have are negative thoughts.

- You write here that you feel your life is a punishment.

- No, I did not write that. What I wrote is that there's a certain amount of punishment in the mere fact of existing. That's different.

- Talk to me about that.

- What's there to explain? I get humilliated and beaten every day. I dream about being a comedian but I feel that I don't even exist, that to 90% of people I'm invisible and to the other 10% I'm a punching bag. I don't have a single friend. And the only thing that makes it all bearable are the pills you prescribe me.

- Tell me one of your jokes- she says then, handing me back my notebook.

I turn a few pages until I find something.

- Here is one:

- Doctor, how did the surgery go?
- Surgery? Was it not an autopsy? HAHAHAHAH

- Your humor is quite dark, Arthur. Why don't you try to write a different type of jokes? In our next session you'll tell me something good. A positive thought or a positive joke. Agreed?

- I'll have to use all of my fantasy...

At home mom awaits me as usual. We watch Murray's show and then I help her to bathe.

- Happy, I need you to mail another letter for me tomorrow, ok?

- Did you write to Thomas Wayne again, mom? It's the fifth time...hahhahaha what's there to tell him?

- He will help us. I already told you that I worked at his house and he says that workers are like family.

-But mom, that was like thirty years ago. I doubt that he even remembers you. Besides...he has other things in his mind.

Thomas Wayne lives in a mansion, sorrounded by luxury...he's probably the most powerful man in town. Someone like that doesn't worry about small people. The priviledged have no ears for the forsaken.

But nontheless, I promise mom to send her letter. She goes to sleep. I light a cigarette and sit at the table in the living room. I open my notebook to write down my impressions of the day.

We commit the stupidity of continuing to live, wasting every day the magnificent opportunities that are offered to us by diverse bridges, pills and razor blades.

Knock knock...

Hahhahaha, many of my jokes start with a knock knock.

Knock knock...

I realize that I didn't just imagine that, there's really a knock knock on the door. Who can it be, though?

I get up, cross the living room and open the door. There's no one there. I look to left and right, but there's nobody across the hall. Then I look down and there I see it. Somebody left something on my doorstep. I crouch down and pick up a sheet of paper. There's a drawing, a drawing of a clown, made with color pencils by the hands of a child.

I close the door behind me. I contemplate the drawing for several minutes and hug it to my chest. I smile. Someone thought of me.

The next day Hoyt assigns me to my new job. It's at the shopping center. It's easy, I just have to stand at the entrance holding a bunch of colorful balloons and greet the people who enter. Today, for the first time in many years, I feel good. I look at the balloons in my hand and it gives me an idea. By the end of the afternoon I hurry to remove my make up and get changed. I put my things in my bag and run back home. As I left the mall I took one of the balloons with me, a blue one.

In front of appartment 8B, I put on my clown's nose and knock on the door.

Knock knock.

I wait for a moment.

Knock knock.

The door opens slowly. Little Gigi is surprised when she sees me.

- Hi. My mom is in the shower...

- That's ok. I wasn't looking for her, but for you.

I crouch down to be at Gigi's height.

- Thank you for your drawing. It's very nice.

She laughs sheepishly.

- Your name is Gigi, right?

- Mhm...what is yours?

- I'm Arthur...

- And you're a clown, I know that. You have a green wig! I've seen you!

She has seen me? She knows that I'm a clown? That I exist? I'm touched to hear that.

I give her the balloon.

- Here Gigi, this is for you.

- Woooooow- she says excitedly.

She takes the balloon and watches it in awe. Then she looks at me, steps a little closer, puts her small hands on my shoulders and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

- Thank you, Arthur!!

That tender and sincere kiss from a little girl who made me a beautiful drawing...it's the most special thing that anyone could ever give to me. I feel something so extraordinary in my heart. And for the first time in my life a tear of joy escapes from my eye.

Upon seing it, Gigi's happy face turns sad. She brings her hand to my face and gently dries my cheek.

- Don't cry Arthur.

I just smile and nod. I'm unable to form words.

In the back I can hear a shower going off.

- I must go to bed...- says Gigi.

- Bye Gigi...

- Bye Arthur...