Chapter 6
~§~
Even though the days had long since begun to blend together, Clark still kept to a mental calendar, subconsciously marking off time. So he was acutely aware of exactly when the Saturday of Lois’s wedding dawned. A quick x-ray glance at his wrist watch laying atop his Clark-clothes inside the trunk confirmed it. May 28th.
He thought of staying in bed all day, but he’d never be left alone. Before mid-morning, his absence would have been duly noted. Someone, or maybe everyone, would then come looking for him, wanting to know if he was sick or needed anything. The curse of small town living; everyone knew your business. He’d thought he’d left it behind when he’d moved away from Smallville.
After pulling himself off the pallet and putting his clothes on in slow motion, he trudged down the road to Rosita’s, wanting a strong cup of coffee. In Colombia, not a problem. A heavy fog had settled over the valley, shrouding the entire world in a muffling blanket much in keeping with his mood.
Thankfully, the cantina was empty. Waving Rosita off with an apologetic smile when she brought forth a plate stacked with arepas, he hunched over his steaming cup and stared into the dark liquid. The rich brown was almost the same color as Lois’s eyes. Warm. Bottomless.
He’d probably never see those eyes again. At least not up close, where he could lose himself in them. Now that they were no longer working partners, there was really no reason to see each other at all. He wasn’t interested in friendship, at least not while his heart still bled from the gaping wound she’d inflicted on it. And he sure as hell couldn’t imagine socializing with the Luthors.
Nope, today Lois embarked on her new and improved life. A life that didn’t include Clark Kent.
Of course, things could be worse, he imagined. He could be in Metropolis, bombarded by media coverage of the wedding of Metropolis’s most eligible bachelor this side of Superman. Newspapers. LNN. Top Copy. Details on what the bride was wearing, what was served at the extravagant reception, where the newlyweds would be honeymooning.
Honeymooning...
Torturing himself, he let his mind play over the night he’d hovered outside Lex’s penthouse and watched Lois accept the man’s proposal. Lex slipping the ring on her finger, pulling her into his arms. And then he had kissed her. It had been agony to watch. Nothing short of his heart being physically ripped from his chest could have caused more pain.
But tonight the kisses would only be the beginning. Before the next day, she would become Lex’s wife in every sense of the word. Silken skin and dark hair stroked by fingers other than his. Her body given freely to a man Clark hated probably more than anyone in the world.
He wanted to scream. Nothing in his life had ever hurt so bad. Could ever hurt as bad as knowing that she would never be his.
Unfortunately, Gillian picked that moment to walk into the cantina, Luke close on her heels. Oblivious to his foul state of mind, she approached his table and waved at Rosita to bring her a cup of coffee. “Hey Sam. Thought you’d be down at the school site by now.”
He lifted his cup by way of explanation, not daring to speak for fear that only anguish would come out of his mouth.
Not deterred by his lack of speech, she swung her leg over the bench and sat down next to him. Rosita placed a cup of coffee in front of her. She gave the plump women a bright smile. “Gracias, mi amiga.”
After taking a long, noisy sip that grated on his shredded nerves, she continued on about the school. “It’s looking pretty good. Another month or so and it’ll be better than new. But I wouldn’t be expecting too much thanks from the kids. I think they’ve enjoyed their reprieve from Jeff’s lectures.”
“Hmmhmm,” he mumbled, wondering if he never said a word, would she eventually just get the hint and leave him alone.
“We’ve done pretty good. Getting all of the homes rebuilt in less than two months. That’s, like, unheard of.”
He sipped his coffee, pausing a moment to zap it back to boiling.
“It’s too bad we’ve had this spot of bad weather. So rainy none of those bricks will set up – ”
He couldn’t handle it any more. She was prattling on about adobe bricks while his life was ending. Something inside him snapped, and Gillian stood directly in the path of destruction.
“ – the stucco to dry. Then it’s just a matter of – ”
“You know, it is possible that I might actually have other things on my mind than whether or not the last batch of bricks is dried enough to use,” he said, not even attempting to keep the irritation from his voice.
She looked as though he had slapped her, for a minute gaping. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you – ”
He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. Now that the anger had started to leak out, he couldn’t seem to stop it. “I don’t think you appreciate what you have here. By me sticking around slapping stucco on every thing that doesn’t move, there are a lot of people out there who aren’t getting my help.”
Her face pinked with indignation. “I – ”
“Not everyone gets this extended service, you know.”
Having had enough, she stood, her hands landing on her hips. “Hey, flyboy, it was your choice to hang around here, remember?”
“My choice?” he said, his voice becoming loud enough that Rosita stuck her head out from the kitchen. “Seems to me that you were the one crying about all of these homeless people and sticking around to do the dirty work.”
“Don’t get me wrong, we appreciate all you’ve done,” she snapped, gray eyes flashing. “But don’t think that we wouldn’t have survived without you. If you’re not happy here, we’ll get along just fine if you fly on back to wherever it is you came from.”
“Maybe I will!” He stood, both the force of his words and the sudden movement sending the bench toppling to its side.
“Suit yourself. Have a nice life!” Without waiting for him to respond, she whirled about on her heel and stalked out the door. Even Luke seemed to frown with disapproval before following her.
“Fine!” he shouted at her receding back, satisfied that finally someone else felt as bad as he did.
~§~
Perched atop the Lincoln Plaza Building directly across the street from the Lexor Hotel, he watched as the white limousine pulled up to the curb and deposited its contents. He couldn’t see her face, and for that he was thankful. If he’d had to see her face, radiant with happiness, he might have flown directly into the sun.
There was no way to enter the building, to get close enough to the ceremony to watch without being noticed. In either guise, Superman or Clark Kent, his appearance would have caused a stir. As far as Lois and everyone in that ballroom was concerned, both men had left Metropolis. Maybe for good.
But not seeing didn’t preclude listening. With a focus even more intense than normal, he narrowed in on the voices murmuring in the ballroom where the wedding was to take place, assured that he had the right crowd when “Luthor” and “marriage” were mentioned in the same conversation.
Strains of the wedding march pounded against his ears, shrill in both volume and significance. His mind painted in the missing pictures. Lois walking down the aisle, her dark eyes shining. The guests whispering in awe at her loveliness. Lex, beaming with pride over his conquest.
And then it started. In a flat, monotone completely inappropriate for the devastation his words were about to create, the archbishop started to speak.
<Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God...>
There was no God, for surely if there was, he’d do something to stop this.
<to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.>
Wasn’t this the right time? The moment when he was supposed to burst through the doors and object? To tell her that she couldn’t marry this man because he loved her. Damn it! He loved her!
<Do you, Lex, take this woman to be your wedded wife>
But he’d already done that. On a park bench. In the center of the bustling city.
<From this day forward>
He’d told her that he’d loved her for a long time.
<for richer, for poorer>
And she’d told him she admired him.
<In sickness and in health>
Respected him.
<To love and to cherish>
Loved him as a friend.
<Till death do you part?>
That she was in love with a him she didn’t even know.
<I do.>
The words fell like a gavel, the final sentence handed down to reveal life imprisonment.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sit on top of that building and listen while Lois vowed to love another man. With a speed amazing even to him, he shot into the air, flying far beyond the earth on a direct path to the moon.
The lack of gravity didn’t matter to a man who could fly. He perched on the rocky surface, watching the blue marble beneath him, half of it cast in light, the other half in darkness. But the earth had it wrong. The half where Lois stood in her white gown should have been the half in darkness.
Mentally, he ticked off the seconds, sixty down to one. It had taken less than a minute for Lex to make his vows. Hers could take no longer. How amazingly ironic, he thought. Two words, spoken in a single breath would create a lifetime bond unbreakable by anything other than death.
He hadn’t been able to stop it from happing, so it had happened. It was incontrovertible. He couldn’t ignore it or forget it. A fact now recognized by law, society, and yes, even God.
Lois Lane was now Lex Luthor’s wife.
She would sleep with him. Bear his children. Stand by his side and grow old with him. Every dream that Clark had ever had would be lived by another man. A snake who deserved nothing more than a modicum of the pain he’d inflicted upon others.
For so long Clark’s dreams had revolved around her that he knew not how to replace them. Now his future held nothing. Like the vast emptiness in front of him, his future contained neither air nor matter, only a cold void that stretched into infinity.
Only when the air stored in his lungs dissipated did he consider going back down to Earth, and even then he hesitated. He’d never contemplated what might happen if he actually ran out of air. Would it be painful to just stop breathing? Would the indestructibility of his body lead him to float aimlessly among the cosmos for all eternity? Or maybe he’d break apart, bits of himself cast out into space, a tragic constellation. He’d come from somewhere out there. Perhaps the time had come for him to return to that somewhere.
His brain must be getting oxygen deprived, he thought sluggishly, any movements he made feeling much like they were executed in slow motion through gelatin. He waved his hand in front of his face, smiling at the image-echo it created. Was this what it felt like to be high on acid? Or maybe drunk on chicha.
A flash of color stilled his hand, and he focused, willing it to reform itself into a single body part. With great effort of concentration, he identified the source of unexpected color.
He hadn’t taken it off, instead tucking it beneath the tight blue sleeve of the suit. But it had refused to stay hidden, working its way back out to remind him of its existence. A rainbow braid of gratitude from a little girl named Eva.
~§~
He stood at the end of the path that led up to his shack. It leaned to the left, eyeing him with disapproval.
“I knew you’d be back,” it seemed to say.
Yes, he was back. Maybe for good.
to be continued...
