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The Importance of Fathers

By VirginiaR.

May 1987

Perry unlocked the door to his house. “Alice,” he called. He didn’t get a response. He shut the door and set a bouquet of flowers down on the side table next to the front door. “Alice?”

“She’s not home,” answered his teenage son. Jerry lounged on the sofa, one knee hooked over the arm. He was absorbed in the television.

“Where’d she go?” Perry asked.

Jerry shrugged non-committedly.

Perry stepped between his son and the television. “Where’s. Your. Mother?”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “I. Don’t. Know. She said something about taking flowers to grandma’s grave,” he replied tersely, before waving for Perry to move out of his way. “That was several hours ago.”

Perry dropped off his overcoat and briefcase on his easy chair. He picked up the flowers and took them into the kitchen. He put the flowers in vase and set them on the dining room table, where he spotted the remnants of a bowl of cereal, including the gallon of milk – now covered with condensation and barely cool to the touch. He returned to the living room, plucked the remote off the table next to the sofa and clicked off the television.

“Hey! I was watching that,” snapped Jerry.

“Go clean up your breakfast things,” Perry ordered, double finger pointing towards the dining room.

“Yeah. I’ll get to them.”

“Jerry, now!”

“Whatever.”

Perry crossed his arms and glowered at his son.

“Fine!” Jerry grumbled, rambling to his feet and heading into the dining room.

Perry went into his own bedroom to find his clean clothes sitting on top of the bed, neatly folded inside a laundry basket. Usually Alice put them away herself, but she hadn’t today. She must have been angry when he had called and said that he wouldn’t make it home last night due to a story he was chasing. She had sounded more resigned than disappointed. He had ended up crashing at his club in the wee small hours of the morning.

He had showered and changed at the club that morning, but it wasn’t the same as doing it at home. He peeled off his suit, put on his robe and slippers, and sauntered into their usually neat and tidy bathroom. There was a damp towel lying in the middle of the bathroom floor.

“Jerry!”

“What, now?” hollered Jerry in return.

“You didn’t hang up your towel!”

“Mom’ll get it!”

Perry grit his teeth and marched down the hall to Jerry’s room, where he found another basket of clean clothes sitting on Jerry’s bed, but no son. The room, other than that, was a mess. He went into the living room, where he found Jerry sprawled back on the couch. “Mom did it when you were six, Jerry. You’re sixteen now. Pick up the towel and go clean your room.”

Jerry bolted to his feet. “What were you doing in my room?”

“Looking for you!”

“Stay out of my room!”

The hairs on Perry’s neck indicated a change in atmospheric pressure in the living room. “Why?” Perry coolly drawled.

“Because it’s my room. My room. My stuff. Stay out, old man!”

Old man? Perry bristled. “While your room is under my roof, young man, I can go into it whenever I please. Now…” He pointed down the hall. “Go and clean it, or your mother and I will clean it for you, tossing anything we don’t think you should have in there.”

Jerry scoffed. “Yeah. Right, Dad. You haven’t been in my room in ten years.”

“I was just in your room!”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “For the first time in ten years, I bet.”

Perry didn’t rise to the bait. “And put away your towel in the bathroom, first!”

His son leisurely moved towards the hall. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.”

Perry rubbed his face. What was the matter with his son? He had taught him better than that. He gave Jerry one minute to clear out of the bathroom, before returning to the scene of the crime.

Jerry had picked up the towel, but it was more sitting on the rack than hanging from it. Perry figured he had won the battle, and decided to drop the matter as his son had moved on to his bedroom. He straightened out his son’s towel before taking his own shower.

Perry was showered, dressed, and was halfway through a leftover chicken sandwich he had made for lunch, when Alice finally returned home. He hadn’t heard a peep out of Jerry, except the blasting of music coming from the kid’s bedroom.

“Oh, Perry, flowers. You did remember after all,” Alice called from the dining room.

Remember? Oh, crap! What had he forgotten this time? Their anniversary? No, that was last month. Her birthday? No that was in late summer.

Alice walked into his office the picture of beauty. Her blonde hair, slightly grayed with age, was pulled back away from her face with a ribbon, removing years from her face. She wore a powder blue dress with a white sweater. He fell in love with her all over again.

She was about to kiss his cheek when she noticed the plate with the half-eaten sandwich sitting on his desk. He watched as the youthful glow dropped from her face. “Be sure to tidy up after yourself,” she said. “I’ve given myself the day off.”

As soon as she had left, he found his desk calendar. It was the second Sunday in May.

Now, he understood her resigned disappointment. He went down the hall to Jerry’s room, knocking on the door. He had to knock a second, louder time, before his son responded.

“What?”

Perry tried to open the door, but it was locked. “Open up, Jerry. I don’t want to yell through the door.”

The door flew open. “What? You want to yell at me straight to my face, then? What have I done now?”

“What did you do for your mother today?” Perry asked softly.

Jerry’s skeptical expression told Perry the answer before his words did. “Why should I do anything?”

“It’s Mother’s Day.”

Jerry shrugged. “So. We’ve never done anything for Mother’s Day before, Dad.”

The truth of Jerry’s words must’ve been an exaggeration. “You should’ve done something.”

“I’m cleaning my room,” Jerry answered. One quick look behind his son told Perry he hadn’t even started.

“You need to do that every week, son. You should do something extra special today, like buy her flowers.”

Jerry yawned. “She hates cut flowers. I heard her say that to Aunt Ida on the phone last week.”

Perry refused to rise to his son’s bait. Alice had thanked him for the flowers. “That may be so, Jerry, but she’s your mother.”

“Yeah, but she’s your wife, mother of your son, which you’d know if you weren’t always working. You don’t appreciate her any more than I do.”

Perry heard his bedroom door shut down the hall. He grabbed his son’s t-shirt. “You are going to clean this room, then you’ll get dressed nicely, and we’re taking your mother out to dinner!” He let Jerry go and pushed him gently back into his room.

Bored annoyance dripped from Jerry’s expression. “Fun. Whatever.” His son shut the door in Perry’s face.

Perry set his head down on the wood in defeat. He would never get through to his son. He was a lost cause. Where had he gone wrong?

Through the wood, Perry could hear Jerry grumbling to himself in a mocking tone, “And then tomorrow you’ll be back at the Daily Planet, ignoring us like usual, Dad. What difference is one day going to make? You’re just wasting our time. Might as well go back to Metropolis and leave us alone.”

Yes. Perry’s career was important to him. Alice knew that. She also knew that he loved her and that she meant the world to him. He might not show it as often as he wished he could, but that didn’t mean it was any less true. Alice never complained.

Perry made a decision, then and there, from that point forward, he would do whatever it took to show Alice how much she meant to him as a mother and as his wife.

Starting tomorrow, things would be different.

***

June 2003

The Daily Planet Annual Father’s Day Picnic in Centennial Park was a grand success. Clark Kent had suggested the idea several years ago when his and Lois’s first child, Jon, was a baby. Now, Lois was pregnant with baby number three and, if the rumors were true, four.

It had been a terrific suggestion, and had reminded Perry how many celebrations he had missed with his own son Jerry. After he and Alice had divorced back in the mid-nineties, and had reconciled a few years later, they had adopted another boy, Keith. He was a rambling boy of sixteen now and Perry wondered if he would show at today’s festivities. Perry could recall easily how fickle sixteen-year-old boys could be with their fathers. While Keith had accepted Alice quickly as his mother, Perry still didn’t feel as if the young man trusted Perry as a father figure, even though he had put more effort into the relationship than he had done with Jerry.

Alice was here, sitting at a picnic table with Jerry’s fiancée, Sandra, who soon would be heavy with child, their first grandchild. He smiled at them and waved from his BBQ spot overlooking the potluck buffet line. He saw Jerry sit down with them and was glad that his first son had decided to join them, after all.

Jerry had been a no-show to the Mother’s Day brunch Clark had thrown last month for the important mothers in his life. Clark had also kindly invited the growing White family to join them. How Clark had managed such a fancy spread with just the help of his father was a miracle to Perry. He bet that Martha Kent had been her son’s secret helper, even though the young man had denied it.

The event had been a bonding event for Alice and Sandra, and had reminded Perry of that vow he had made almost two decades earlier. A vow that he had sadly forgotten about within a week of making it. Jerry had gone to jail for writing bad checks, only to be released and join a plot to try to rid the world of Superman. Perry didn’t want to blame himself for his son being a bad seed, but his son’s words from all those year ago still haunted him. If Perry had been a better father, would Jerry have ended up being a better person?

He glanced over at Clark, twirling five-year-old Jon up into the air and resting him down on his shoulders. Clark’s father worked hard on the farm, but still made time to spend time with Clark and his family. If Martha and Jonathan weren’t out visiting Metropolis, Clark, Lois, and kids were making another trip to Kansas. Summers, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. In fact, Clark’s family was leaving for week in Kansas after the picnic. Lois and the kids would stay in the country for the summer, having already asked for some extra family leave time due to her pregnancy, and Clark would commute back to Kansas on the weekends when he could. Perry wouldn’t be surprised if he had asked for some Super help with the airfare.

Lois sat on a picnic blanket with little red-haired Molly, who was just starting to toddle around. Perry watched as Clark and Jon finished the buffet line. They returned to the blanket, and Clark gave Lois a plate as Jon sat down with his fixings. Then, Clark scooped up Molly and returned to the line to get their food.

Smiling he turned back in time to see Jerry calling to Sandra what food to grab him as she waddled over to the food line without him. His smile faded. Jerry hadn’t shown up to the Mother’s Day event but expected Sandra to cater to him at the Father’s Day picnic. Had Perry really been such a bad role model for his son?

He sighed, realizing that with his own absence and disregard for Alice when Jerry was young, Perry had taught his son exactly how women shouldn’t be treated. It was time for him to right all those years of wrongs.

“Hey, pop,” Keith said, popping up beside him at the grill.

Perry almost handed the spatula to his new son to go and correct the behavior of his older son, but then stopped himself. “Steve, can you take over here, so I can spend some quality time with my sons?” he called to one of the sports reporters, who had been watching Perry with a critical eye since he had put on the apron. The man jumped at the opportunity to take over.

Perry wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulders and led him over to where Alice and Jerry were sitting. “Come on, Jer. Let’s get some grub. Would you like me to fix you a plate, Alice?” he offered.

She smiled broadly. “Thank you, Perry, but I’ve already been through the line.” She nodded down to her half-full plate.

“Oh,” Perry murmured. “I’ll get you some more lemonade,” he offered instead.

“Sandy’s getting my grub, Dad,” Jerry said.

“Did you break your leg, bro?” Keith asked. “You should be serving her.”

“Keep your nose out of my business, kid,” Jerry snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He has better manners than you,” Perry replied.

“That’s 'cause he grew up outside this family,” Jerry snapped.

“I’d love a slice of Lois’s chocolate cake,” Alice said, trying to change the subject. “Hardly anyone has taken any, yet.”

Perry looked at his wife skeptically; he wanted to warn her against Lois’s baking ability, which was only rivaled by her lack of cooking skills. He swallowed down his criticism of his prize journalist’s sure-to-be-awful cake, and said instead, “Okay, dear. Chocolate cake it is.” Maybe he would ask Clark’s advice before serving it to her, though. Then again, that man seemed to have an iron stomach. “Come on, Jerry. Sandra could use an extra hand.”

“Come on, Dad. It’s Father’s Day. Isn’t that when women wait on us hand and foot?” Jerry laughed.

Perry grabbed his son’s ear, tugging it until his son followed, bellowing in pain. He was about to say, ‘No, that’s when fathers get to spend quality time with children’ when Alice spoke up first.

“No, honey, that’s the day when fathers take their errant offspring away from their mothers in order to give them an extra day off.” Alice waved her fingers towards her departing family.

Perry recalled several happy Father’s Days with Jerry, when his son had been a lad. Alice always made sure that their son bounded into the bedroom to wake Perry with cards and gifts as delicious smells wafted out of the kitchen. Then, she would send them off – just the two of them – to go fishing, or to an amusement park, or some other activity. Perry had wanted to make up for those years lost when he was a correspondent in Vietnam while Jerry was little.

“Son, let me give you some advice…” Perry began.

Jerry scoffed. “Save the advice, Dad. I’ll just do what you didn’t, and Sandy and I should be just fine.”

“You need to spoil her rotten,” Perry said, as if Jerry hadn’t interrupted.

“Duh!” Keith chimed in. “You keep this act up, bro, and some other dude is going to steal her away.”

“What do you know?” Jerry rebutted.

“Hey, I watch television,” Keith countered. “And the lame ass jerks always lose the babe.”

Perry wrapped an arm around Jerry’s shoulders and turned him towards Clark. “Don’t watch the dudes on television. Don’t do what I did. My advice is to do what Clark does.” He nodded towards the couple. Clark was arriving back at the blanket where Lois and Jon were eating their picnic lunch. Jon jumped to his feet, so excited to see his dad as Clark set down Molly. Jon upset his drink and spilled it all over the blanket and himself. Jon then started to cry in frustration.

“That’s going to be you in a few years, son,” Perry whispered.

Clark leapt up, swooping Molly back into his arms. Gently, he set her down next to Lois. He then helped Lois to her feet. Lastly, he picked up Jon and had a quiet conversation with him.

“What do you think he’s saying?” Perry asked.

“He’s blaming him for ruining the picnic,” Jerry guessed.

“He’s telling him to stop crying and be a man,” Keith said.

Perry shook his head. “Not Clark.”

Clark hugged his son and rocked him back and forth until he stopped crying, whispering to him the entire time. When Jon calmed down, Clark kissed his cheek and set him on the other side of Lois. He gave Lois Molly’s and his still good plates of food, and then picked up the ruined plates of food and dumped them out as Lois held Jon’s hand. Clark next picked up the blanket and with a flick of his wrist snapped it, sending spilled food and liquid into the air and away from them. He lay out the blanket again, helped Lois and Molly sit back down, and then swooped a giggling Jon back onto his shoulders and grabbing the diaper bag, headed off to the restrooms with his son. Clark didn’t seem to care that he now had a pink wet spot in the center of his t-shirt.

“He didn’t get angry,” Keith said with amazement.

Jerry was awestruck. “He didn’t yell once.”

Perry cleared his throat. “Nope. He calmed his son with love. Jer, do you remember the Lois Lane from before you went upstate?”

“Do I ever. Hot to look at, but – man – could she be a nasty…”

Perry held up a finger to warn Jerry to watch his language. “You ever read Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew?”

Jerry shook his head. “I saw the movie, though.”

“We just read that in English class,” Keith said, nodding.

“Clark made that leopard change her spots with love. An overabundance of love and patience.” Perry sighed. “If I could do things all over again…”

“You’d be the same person you’ve always been, Dad. I know you; you wouldn’t want to miss out on a single story,” Jerry said.

Perry patted his son’s face. “But I did miss out. I missed raising you, Jerry. There’ll always be another story. I’ll never get those lost moments with you back. If I could do it all over again, I’d do my darnest to be a father like Clark.” Or Elvis. Clark acted exactly how Perry imagined Elvis must’ve been with his daughter. Such a loss.

“Clark might be a great guy, but he’s a bit whipped, Dad,” Jerry said. “He did everything while Lois just stood there.”

Perry flung out his hand towards Lois. “She’s six months pregnant with twins, judging by her other two pregnancies. She’s building life there, Jer, just like Sandra. That’s exhausting work. Her body is all out of whack. Her memory, her balance and equilibrium, her hormones, all are changing and adapting. That’s not something a woman snaps back from. It changes them. Physically, biologically, and mentally changes them. It doesn’t for a man. We’re exactly the same. Now, Lois – she’d be the first person in line to slug me, should I ever suggest she wasn’t up to par with Clark. He’s not whipped, Jer. He’s giving her the respect due, respect she’s earned for doing the toughest job out there. You might think that being a father and mother are equal in the grand scheme of things, but you’d be wrong. Motherhood is more than twice the workload with just a fraction of the appreciation, and you’d be smart to follow Clark’s lead.” He marched onwards towards the buffet line.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Jerry asked, following.

“No, I’m not okay,” Perry grumbled. “Watching how you disregard Sandra makes me sick to my stomach, son. She deserves to be treated better. She’s smart, kind, funny, and she’s willing to deal with this family.”

“Yeah, well, so does Mom,” Jerry retorted.

“I know. I know. Watching Clark makes me realize how much I have to make up for to both you and your mother,” Perry explained, stopping short to turn to face his eldest son. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Be there for Sandra and your child. Strive to do better, to be better.” He smiled. “Make me proud, son.”

Jerry threw a hand out towards the Kents. “I’m doomed to failure, Dad. How do you expect me to live up to your ideal son, Clark Kent? I can’t compare.”

Perry sighed. That wasn’t at all what he was trying to portray. He patted his son’s back. “When I told Lois that I was nominating Clark to be Daily Planet’s Father of the Year, she asked me not to.”

“Yeouch!” Keith asked, “Why ever not?”

Perry shrugged. “I don’t know. She said something about Clark wouldn’t want it.” He shook his head. “Nobody’s perfect, son. Try to be the best husband and father you can be. When your fingertips touch the bar, raise it up higher. Always strive to be better. That’s it. That’s all the marital advice I’ve got.”

“How about this?” Jerry said as they reached the line. “I’ll treat Sandra as good as you treat Mom.”

Perry slapped his forehead. “Sam Hill! I almost forgot to get a slab of Lois’s chocolate cake.” He glanced around, before murmuring, “Anyone have a cement carver?”

Keith chuckled and nudged his brother. “Why don’t you go help Sandra with those plates?”

They looked to the front of the line. Sandra held two plates, precariously balanced on top of two cups of lemonade.

Jerry winced. “I better go help her. Thanks, Dad!”

They watched as Jerry joined Sandra and took both plates out of her hands. She gave him a grateful smile.

“You did good, pops,” Keith said, picking up a plate. “I’d have voted for you… you know, for Father of the Year.”

Perry grinned. “I’m thrilled just to have you nominate me, son.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Darn allergies.”

“You’re okay in my books, pops.”

He sniffled again and wiped his eyes. “That means the world to me, Keith.”

His younger son nudged his shoulder, and whispered, “Clark would allow himself to cry.”

Perry chuckled. “Clark Kent, I am not, son.”

They both laughed.

After he brought Alice her piece of Lois’s cement… er… chocolate cake, Perry went up to the stage, and gave a short speech, thanking all the wonderful mothers and children out there who made all the men of the Daily Planet have something to celebrate on this most beautiful of Father’s Days. “And finally, with all the votes tallied, and by overwhelming majority, the winner of Daily Planet’s Super Dad award goes to…” He opened the envelope holding the certificate. “Clark Kent!”

Perry scanned the crowd, but didn’t see the Kent family anywhere.

“Come on, Clark! Who wouldn’t want a Super Dad t-shirt with its own built in cape?” Perry called, holding up the blue t-shirt with the yellow SD emblem emblazoned on the chest. Turning it around, he let the crowd see that it even had a small red cape attached to the shoulders. Everyone laughed and clapped.

Perry continued to look for Clark and his family. Finally, he found Lois, Jon, and Molly standing together. Lois was attempting to fold up their picnic blanket by herself. Clark was nowhere to be seen. Jon was jumping up and down and clapping. He understood that his dad had won a prize. Molly was applauding, too, although most likely because her brother was.

Keith ran over to Lois as everyone looked around for Clark. Lois merely shook her head and said something to Keith. He shrugged at his father, took the blanket from Lois, proceeding to fold it, as he encouraged Lois to go up and join his father.

Slowly, Lois reached the stage, and held out her hand for Clark’s prize.

“Where’s your husband?” Perry asked, covering the microphone.

“He’s not here,” she explained.

Perry’s jaw dropped. Clark had left Lois and kids at the Father’s Day picnic? He couldn’t believe it.

Lois took the microphone from Perry. “I would like to accept this prize on Clark’s behalf. About fifteen minutes ago, he heard a radio report of bad accident on the Hobb’s Bay Bridge and went to check it out. That’s the life of reporter, whether a father or a mother, you hear news and you drop everything to go cover it. Sometimes, that means missing out on the truly great things in life. Thank you so much for honoring Clark with this award. The guilt of not being here in person to accept it, probably means I’ll never get to experience the joy seeing him wear this shirt would bring me.” She held up the t-shirt again for everyone to see. “And neither will you.”

The crowd laughed.

“Lois Lane, everyone!” Perry said, taking the microphone back, as he applauded. She kissed his cheek and headed down the steps to the lawn. “Don’t forget to pick up all of your trash and throw it away, people. And Simons, since you’re retiring at the end of the summer, why don’t you take your camera and go see what Kent heard about on the Hobbs Bay Bridge? We have enough photos of ourselves to make Daily Planet social editor cry. Thank all of you again for joining us for these festivities. I’ll see most of you back at work bright and early tomorrow!”

Everyone groaned.

Perry turned off the microphone and watched as Lois re-joined her family. Keith now held all of their picnic items and even had the diaper bag slung over his shoulder. Lois took each of her children by the hand and the four of them slowly headed to the parking lot. Perry smiled. Not everyone was lucky enough to choose one’s child, but he thought he and Alice had done quite well when they had adopted Keith. Perry couldn’t be prouder.

***The End***

Comments

Disclaimer: This story was inspired by the characters created by Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster as they were portrayed on the Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman television series, developed by Deborah Joy LeVine. The characters do not belong to me; they belong to themselves (although Warner Bros, DC Comics, and the heirs to Siegel and Shuster might disagree). Jerry White is from S3’s Lethal Weapon, written by Grant Rosenberg.