It was two in the morning, but a light was on. He took a deep breath and quickly rushed through the door and upstairs. He at least had to get the smell of her off him before facing his mother. He quickly washed his face and hands.
"I hear you," she called from downstairs. He sighed and dried off. He suddenly felt like a boy who'd broken curfew.
She was in the dining room, her ancient sewing machine on the table before her. She was stitching together yards of blue spandex. She didn't look up when she spoke. "Please tell me you didn't."
"Mom, I had to make sure she was okay."
She stopped, still staring at her stitches. "And was she?" she finally asked.
He took a deep breath. "Lex won't be bothering us anymore. Any of us."
She finally looked up. "How's that?" He explained about Grady. She only nodded and went back to her work. "Thank goodness. I think Lex will be happier, free to live his life without the baggage of these years. But Lois... Clark, tell me you behaved."
What could he say? He'd only done as he was told. "I didn't exactly... Well, she was drunk."
"Well... That explains why she let you stay."
He kicked at a loose thread in the carpet. "Mom, I didn't have my wicked way with her. Okay?" That much was true. It had been the opposite, really.
She shrugged. "I guess that's good enough for now."
As he went upstairs, he wondered when every female in the world had stopped liking him. Maybe he was exaggerating, but Mom, Lois... No one believed in him anymore. Oh, they believed in what he could do. But in him? The side of him that went to sleep and ate breakfast and was really nothing special. The person he was when he closed his eyes at night... No one seemed to like that guy.
He laid down in his clothes. It didn't matter. The suit was rumpled. He put his glasses on the nightstand and rolled over. He must not have washed very well. He could still smell her on his shirt. It must have rubbed off from his neck and chest. He breathed it in. He was a sad case.
"I'm done with you." That's what she'd said. He felt empty and broken. Was that how he'd left her so many times? He doubted he'd ever left her unsatisfied. His body was still screaming out for release. He knew it would take no time to give it to himself. But he wouldn't. It seemed hollow, somehow.
He couldn't really blame her. In fact, he was glad he'd left unsatisfied. It was penance. He'd do it again. He'd do anything to be absolved by her.
He closed his eyes and listened. It was his new ritual, sifting through the sounds. Was someone in pain? Was someone in danger? But he heard only crickets, the frogs at Crater Lake, somebody snoring at the Hubbard house...
His mom was right. He'd have to move to the city. And she was right about another thing. He'd have to wear the awful outfit. Today, he'd seen someone hanging out a window. He'd almost flown up to them, only to find out they were trying to feed a bird on the ledge. One stupid moment and he'd be exposed.
How had he got by all these years? Of course, it was easier to explain strength, speed, sudden fires. But flying? It would be impossible. Two lives, he thought. How did Ollie do it?
*****************************
It hurt. She wasn't sure what hurt exactly. She just registered pain. It took some time to figure out where it was... Her head. No wonder she couldn't think. The thought of opening an eye was more than she could bear.
She reached an arm up and put it over her eyes. She then attempted to crack them open. Light. That was where the pain was coming from. It was everywhere, even seeping through her eyelids. Then there was the noise. The ringing. She blindly reached for her alarm clock and swatted it, satisfied at the thunk as it hit the floor. But the ringing went on.
She sighed in relief when it finally stopped. Then it started again! It was her home phone. And from the repeat call, she knew who it was. It was someone who wouldn't stop ringing until she answered. She sat up and opened her eyes, flinching at the pain. She stumbled to her kitchen and took it off the wall. "What, Linda?"
"Well, thank God!"
"Ow! Don't yell at me. I have a headache."
"Don't you mean a hangover?"
"What? How do you know?"
"You drunk-dialed me three times last night. First, you were at some place with a mariachi band and you said you were having your last hurrah. Then you were waiting for a cab and you were a lesbian and you wanted me to fly out and pretend I was your girlfriend. Then you were in a cab yelling that Grady did it." Linda paused for breath. "To be honest, Ollie ended up making me take something just to get me to sleep. The last two were kind of bleary. So... you're a lesbian now? I'm actually relieved if that means..."
"No," she groaned. She moved to the couch, feeling a little cold. She looked down. "I'm naked."
"What?"
"Nothing, Linda. Suffice it so say I was drunk and then Grady called and told me he took eight years from Lex." She sat down. "We're all safe."
"Except for how Lex Luthor still exists."
"Well, yeah, but... Can't have it all."
"How's Clark? You still standing strong?"
"Um... yeah." Though, sitting on the couch, staring at the spot where he'd sat, her knees on his shoulders as he ate her, it all came back. "I'm still keeping the faith." She was such a liar.
"Good. Our family doesn't get pushed around by... Ollie, quit it! That tickles!... Um, Lois... I gotta go... I... I'll talk to you..." She broke off in giggles and the line went dead.
She hit the off button and leaned back.
She'd done it. She'd used him. And yet she didn't feel powerful. Last night, it had seemed like a great idea. Clark Kent at her back and call, sex when and where she wanted it. But she couldn't do it, couldn't be two people the way he could, even now, even without the red K. She couldn't sleep with him, take pleasure from him and not need those other things he couldn't give her. And how could she go on, knowing it would be so easy to call him, have him. Knowing that doing that very thing would keep chipping away at her...
***********************************
"Clark, you've been down there twenty minutes." His mom poked her head down into the storm cellar. "How long does it take to find a jar of preserves?"
"It's not that easy, Mom. There are all these boxes."
She came down the steps and sighed. "I forgot they were even here."
"What are they?"
"Just some things of Lois and Linda's. I had them brought here when they were away, otherwise they'd all be thrown away when Chloe's... Lois'... Well when Gabriel Sullivan's house was sold. Then so much went on and..." She shook her head. "I guess I don't need the preserves. I can buy some."
"Mom, I could probably find it. I just need to move a few..." He picked up a box and the contents spilled out the bottom.
"Clark, you'll break something."
"It's only books."
"Just leave it for now." She turned and moved back up the stairs.
He toyed with the box, trying to get it back where it could hold things, at least temporarily. He should get the books in something before they got dirtier on the packed dirt floor. He knew who they must belong to and he didn't need her any madder at him. It was Sunday now. Two days and she hadn't called. Was it sick that he was sitting around, hoping she wanted to use him? Probably. It was just who he was now. He was consumed by thoughts of her. Maybe this was obsession. It hadn't got to the point where he was breaking into her apartment again, so he congratulated himself on that much.
He placed the books carefully back into the not-quite-sturdy box one by one. A biography of Barbara Stanwyck, Mrs. Dalloway, Stephen King's It, Don Quixote, 1984, Pride & Prejudice, T.S. Elliot... A pink note fluttered to the ground. It was old and well-worn, crinkled. He didn't kid himself that he could resist the temptation. He opened it.
Dear Clark,
I want to let you in on a secret. I’m not who you think I am. In fact, my disguise is so thin, I’m surprised you haven’t seen right through me.
I’m the girl of your dreams masquerading as your best friend. Sometimes I want to rip off this facade like I did at the Spring formal, but I can’t. Because you’ll get scared and you’ll run away again. So I decided it’s better to live with a lie than expose my true feelings.
My dad told me there are two types of girls—the ones you grow out of and the ones you grow into. I really hope I’m the latter. I may not be the one you love today, but I’ll let you go for now, hoping one day you’ll fly back to me, because I think you’re worth the wait.
Chloe
He fell back and sat heavily on the floor, staring at the note. How long ago had she written this? He read it again and felt this... lightness. He read it a third time. The feeling seemed to expand in his chest.
The ones you grow into.
Is that what had been happening? Had all this confusion and frustration been no more than growing pains as he became the man she wanted him to be?
He scrambled to his feet, clutching the note in his hands. A double life. It had all seemed so hard up till now, but with her at his side... She'd always been at his side, easing his pain and helping him into his destiny. And all that time, he never gave her one lousy thing - himself. The others had come and gone and she'd still been there, waiting. All these years and they'd never even been on a real date. He looked at the note again.
He could do it. He could give her what she wanted... if she still wanted it. He could just start small. A date. Flowers. He wouldn't so much as touch her hand if she didn't want him to. He could do this.
"Mom!" He stumbled up the stairs and sped to the house. "Mom!"
Previous Chapter
Chapter Sixteen
No comments:
Post a Comment