Part 29 Part 30----------
It was too much. He stepped back from the closet, staring at the brightly colored tights that now hung where a rack of normal clothes had just been. “Those are...”
“Your suits,” his mother said, still standing by the closet doorway. “I sewed them for you.”
“You're Superman,” his father clarified.
He swallowed. He'd heard about Superman, back at the Planet: an impossible man who did impossible things. A larger-than-life hero. An alien. “Am I a space-alien?!” he choked out. The back of his legs struck the bed, and he sank down onto it.
“You were born on a planet called Krypton,” his mother said carefully, coming to sit beside him, “but you've lived on Earth all your life.”
His father sat on the other side, practically squishing him between them, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You're a red-blooded American, Clark, just like anybody else.”
“What about you two?” he asked, looking from one to the other. “You're my parents, right? Are you from...Krypton...as well?”
They shared a look, again. “Well, no,” his mother admitted. “We found you when you were just a little baby.”
He shot to his feet and began pacing the length of the room. “No! This is some kind of joke! Why are you doing all of this? Who are you, really?!” He whirled on them, fixing them with a glare.
With a sigh, the older man rose and grabbed a baseball bat from the side of the room. The woman stared at it with wide eyes. “Jonathan, what are you doing?!”
“He needs proof,” the man said with an air of resignation. He raised the bat. “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, believe me.”
The bat shattered across his chest. He stared at the splintered wreckage, mouth open in shock, then looked up at the man now hissing and shaking the pain from his hands.
“It's true, Clark,” his mother said.
He looked down at the splinters again. “No....no, No, NO!” He staggered backward until he struck a wall, then sank down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I...I don't want to be an alien!”
His mother was suddenly crouching beside him, cupping his face in her hands. She made him look at her. There was understanding in her eyes. Had they had this conversation before? “Clark, it's not a bad thing,” she said, softly. “You're still our son. You're still Clark Kent, the Kansas country boy. You're still just a normal guy like anybody else.”
“THAT”—He pointed an accusing finger at the costumes hanging in the closet—“is not a normal guy like anybody else!”
She shrugged. “Everyone has something that makes them unique,” she said calmly. “Lots of folks live in countries where they weren't born; lots of folks are adopted; lots of folks have talents that others don't have.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “It isn't really that different, Clark.”
He let out a breath. “So...where is Krypton?” He looked up at her. “Are there any more of us on Earth? Can I meet them?”
“We only know one,” his father said, coming to kneel beside him. “Your friend Michel lives in France. Unfortunately, we don't know how to get in touch with him.”
He nodded slowly. At least he wasn't a *complete* oddity, even if he did seem to be the only one who flew around in...wait... “Can I really fly?” he asked them.
They both grinned at his expression. “Yes, Honey, you can,” his mother told him.
His eyes flicked to the large windows at the end of the room, and the clear skies beyond.
He looked back at his mother. “Erm...how?”
**********
TBC...
