NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: Chapter 1
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!" Rose and Jack finished singing in unison and took turns hugging their daughter Eliza.
"Happy birthday, darling!" her mother exclaimed cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek before starting to cut a slice of the chocolate cake placed in the center of the table. It was a Sacher torte, the favorite of young Eliza, who had proudly blown out twenty candles that day.
The party was extremely modest: just her with her parents and her paternal grandmother, sitting at a small table in a diner (Eliza loved the American and Mexican cuisine of that restaurant a few kilometers from home), but the birthday girl was happy all the same.
She had everything she could wish for: her favorite cake, some nice gifts, and above all the company of her family, the people she loved most in the world; her mother Rose, a woman in her fifties who was sweet and caring like few people in the world, her father Jack, a fifty-five-year-old with a sometimes difficult character, but always sincerely affectionate with her.
And then there was Helen, her grandmother, who was kind enough to her most of the time, but sometimes, like today, seemed to disapprove of everything she did and said and ended up showering her with criticism, often cruel.
Now, on her birthday, she had insisted on telling her that she was wearing a top and lipstick that in her opinion only "street" girls wore, and she had also asked her why she hadn't invited her friends to the party.
Eliza wasn't the type of person who made friends easily, far from it. She was shy, introverted and reserved, and people often labeled her as a strange, bizarre girl, difficult to understand and even more so to hang out with. Of course Eliza didn't blame them: she herself had never loved herself, so how could she expect anyone else to do it, that someone else could succeed in an endeavor in which she had failed all her life?
But her grandmother knew how difficult it was for Eliza to fit in and adapt to the world, so why was she throwing such barbs at her today? Why did she want to hurt her at all costs, even when Eliza was trying to live a single happy moment without being judged?
After hearing Grandma Helen's words, Eliza quickly excused herself and got up from the table to go outside for some fresh air.
She ended up walking away a bit, so she could smoke a cigarette in peace without her parents scolding her; her mother had lost her father to lung cancer, so she was particularly sensitive about this subject. She had always strictly forbidden her to smoke, but Eliza always managed to have a cigarette once a day without being caught.
She knew it was an unhealthy habit, but it was often the only thing that could calm her nerves after a bad day, when her thoughts devoured her to the point that she couldn't find a single moment of serenity from the chaos of her mind.
Eliza pulled the lighter from her jeans pocket and quickly lit a cigarette, blowing out a big cloud of smoke as she forced herself to take a deep breath to calm herself.
Why didn't you invite your friends over today? You shouldn't be alone all the time.
It was just a stupid sentence, why was he giving her so much power, so much importance? And yet it kept ringing in her mind over and over again. Maybe because, deep down, it was what her grandmother had told her. Alone. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, but Eliza blinked them away, lighting another cigarette.
A stupid little girl alone, that's what she was. A stupid little girl alone and angry. Angry at her grandmother, at the world, at herself, smoking in a dark, deserted alley.
How had she ended up here? Eliza realized with shock that she was lost. She had never had a good sense of direction, and in her haste to get away so no one would see her collapse, she had simply chosen to get as far away from the restaurant as she could without having the foresight to write down any landmarks along the way.
A loud thunder sounded in the sky, then, without any warning, the first drops of rain began to fall, which in a few seconds turned into a violent storm.
Perfect, Eliza thought. She was lost and now it had also started to rain cats and dogs. Luckily there was a small diner a few meters away, on the other side of the street, and Eliza ran there with one hand on her head in an attempt to shelter herself a little from the rain.
Once inside, she hurried towards the counter. "Excuse me, do you happen to know where the American Diner 1950 is?"
The burly man at the register, behind the counter, frowned for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, kiddo, I have no idea where it is." Then his gaze moved over Eliza's shoulder , and in a decidedly less gentle tone, shouted: "Hey, you, if you don't intend to consume something you have to leave the table free. Only customers can sit down."
Eliza looked around: besides her and the manager, the place was completely empty.
There was only one man sitting at a table near the window, and he seemed to have a very battered appearance. He was wearing a white tracksuit that resembled hospital pajamas, his brown hair that fell in soft waves on his shoulders was wet and stuck to his face.
He was very thin, so thin that his clothes were hanging off him, and he was visibly shaking.
Also, Eliza noticed a little disconcerted, his feet were bare, crossed under the table, rubbing in an attempt to warm up a little.
What struck her most, however, were his green eyes, which stood out like two deep wounds on a gaunt and wrinkled face. Those eyes tell a sad story, of someone who has suffered and has never been listened to, was the first thought that crossed Eliza's mind when their gazes met.
When the man spoke, his voice was soft, small and broken: "I'm sorry, I have no money, can I just stay here until the rain stops?"
"Dude, didn't you hear? Only customers can sit down, it's our rules."
Eliza felt a strange pang of anger towards that big man; it seemed to her a real injustice that that gentleman, clearly cold, who didn't have a penny to even pay for a meal, couldn't stay warm and dry, especially now that the place was empty and he had no need to rush to vacate the table.
"Two hot chocolates with cream, please. One for me and one for the gentleman. Now that he has something to drink, can he stay?"
Eliza's tone came out more contemptuous than she intended, but the burly man at the house didn't object when he saw her take the bills out of her wallet, but instead shrugged as if to say "whatever you want" and began to prepare the hot chocolates.
The mysterious man sitting behind her looked at her in surprise, as if he had never received an act of kindness before, and instinctively Eliza smiled at him. He smiled back, smiling lopsidedly, almost sadly, as if he didn't know what to do.
"Here you go, two hot chocolates with cream." The bartender held out the two cups toward her, and Eliza took them with a quick thank you, then walked over to the mysterious man with the sad smile and sat down across from him, handing him a cup of hot chocolate.
"It'll keep you warmer," she said, and he smiled back, with a mixture of uncertainty and embarrassment, wringing his hands nervously in his lap.
"Thanks, but you shouldn't have done that. I can't give you your money back…"
"On me," Eliza said with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "Go ahead, drink it, it's delicious!"
To prove it, Eliza took a sip from her cup, and two whiskers of cream appeared on her upper lip.
The man in front of her chuckled, at first a thin, amused chuckle, then it grew in intensity, until it became a loud, convulsive, almost breathless laugh.
"S-sorry…" He stammered, covering his mouth with his hand until the laughter slowly faded.
Eliza shook her head. She didn't seem annoyed or upset by the inappropriate sound of his laughter, she just… looked at him as if nothing had happened, as if she had witnessed a normal laugh, a perfectly normal behavior.
"You don't have to apologize, I saw myself in the glass with this mustache and I laughed too."
"It's a disease." He tried to explain, but Eliza didn't look at him differently or in any judgmental way, which made him want to open up to her and be honest. "When I was little, my mother's boyfriend beat me so badly that he left a head injury. I've had this laugh ever since."
Eliza was struck by the man's soft tone, speaking about something so horrible so naturally, without anger, without anguish.
"I'm sick, too. In here." She put her index finger to her temple, tapping it lightly. "I'm a mess. For a long time I tried to be normal, but then I realized that normal is a stupid word, that only causes harm." Only then did Eliza realize that she hadn't even introduced herself, so she added, "I'm Eliza, nice to meet you. Sorry I don't shake your hand, but I have OCD and I'm terrified of germs, so I avoid touching anything, and even when I do, I'm constantly terrified of getting dirty or sick." He looked at her, and his face broke into a real smile this time, almost childish in its joy. "Sorry I laughed at you like that, I have something called pseudobulbar syndrome that makes me laugh even at funerals. By the way, I'm Arthur. Arthur Fleck."