Okay, so this isn't a very long section after all. Sorry! Either I ration you with smaller posts, or I post less frequently. Also, just to warn you, Geoerge's language is a bit more colourful than usual here. I'm not sure what the boards will edit out, so tread carefully. Anything non-PG, of course, please highlight and I'll edit immediately.
“I’m telling you, buddy, that day in the park was your wake-up call.”
Lois froze as George’s strident voice drifted through the open door she was passing on her way to the clinic’s gym.
“I don’t see why. In case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t take the hit willingly - unless you think I planned the whole thing as an elaborate method of taking the stuff without making you suspicious.”
Clark. Oh, boy. She’d stumbled on one of his therapy sessions with George. She should just continue walking and not listen to another word.
George chuckled. “No, I don’t think you’re that desperate. No, I’m talking about how badly it affected you afterwards. You looked like hell that morning, as bad as I’ve ever seen you.”
“Well, you said it yourself – junkies often suffer worse after a long abstinence.”
Clark sounded strained and defensive, as if George had been giving him a hard time. Walk away, Lois, walk away. This is none of your business.
“Yeah, that was the bullshit I gave Lois,” replied George. “Heck, it’s even true sometimes. But you and I both know the real reason you were so strung out.”
“We do?”
“Jeez, Clark, did anyone ever tell you you’re the most obtuse guy on this entire planet?”
“Yes, George,” said Clark. “You do. All the time.”
George sighed. “Okay, then, because I love the sound of my own voice so much, I’ll give it to you one more time,” he said heavily. “As I’ve been trying to get through your thick skull for weeks, you’re riding yourself too hard, buddy. You cannot sustain this double act with Lois without it taking a toll. That day in the park was your payback day.”
Double act? What double act? She glanced up and down the corridor, but no-one was in sight, so she eased down onto the green plastic chair stationed outside the consulting room and pretended to tie her shoe laces.
“That’s ridiculous!” objected Clark. “I was fine until those idiots forced the red kryptonite on me. No craving, no physical symptoms, no nothing.”
George snorted. “You were as stressed as hell, and you know it, buddy.”
There was a long silence from behind the door, during which she finished tying her laces and twice nearly stood up and continued down the corridor. She was just about to give in and abandon her chair when she heard Clark mutter, “I was handling it.”
“Handling it, my *** ,” retorted George. “Did you know that Francine was thinking of pulling you off Lois’s sessions, even before she got her voice back? She thought you were in danger of becoming a hindrance to the therapeutic process because you were so screwed up. She said it nicer than that – something about being too personally involved – but the meaning was the same.”
She really shouldn’t be listening to this, a private conversation between a shrink and his patient. She should stand up right now and head to the gym.
But then she wouldn’t find out about the mysterious double act. And what was this about being too personally involved? By her reckoning, Clark viewed her as the equivalent of a bird with a broken wing: he cared about her and wanted her to get better, but there was no deeper personal involvement. Or so she’d thought.
There was another long silence. “No, I didn’t know that.” Clark sounded defeated now, his voice quiet and withdrawn.
“Okay, so now you do,” said George. “And my spies tell me you’re as moody as hell at work. Heck, you’re moody with everyone – even Lois. The cracks are beginning to show, buddy.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? She needs me.”
“Not any more, she doesn’t,“ pointed out George. “Not now that she’s talking again.”
“But she’s gotten used to having me there,” insisted Clark. “Isn’t consistency important in a person’s therapy?”
“Sure it is. But so is communication, and you, my friend, are in danger of becoming one huge barrier to that whole process,” said George. “You need to butt out and let the professionals take over.”
“I can’t just walk away from her,” said Clark. “You know that.”
“Nobody’s asking you to do that – just to step back a little,” said George. “Look, Lois isn’t my patient so her treatment schedule is really none of my business. You, however, are very much my patient, Clark, and I got to tell you, buddy, you and I are going to be spending a heck of a lot more couch time together if you don’t get your act together soon.”
“Oh, come off it, George!” exclaimed Clark. “I’m fine.”
No, he wasn’t fine, Lois thought. Even she could tell that.
“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been cancelling on me, is it?” drawled George, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’re fine.”
“Well, yes. And I’ve been busy.”
“Nothing to do with avoiding me because you know I’ll tell you it like it really is?” retorted George. “Hell, Clark, it’s been four weeks since you freaked out in the park. You needed to see me the next day, not four weeks down the line after you’ve sold yourself God knows what crap about how well you’re coping. You’re not coping, buddy, you’re procrastinating.”
She heard Clark snort dismissively.
“Oh, you don’t believe me?” said George. “Okay, let me tell you a story. There was this guy – a pretty lonely guy - who developed an obsession for a woman he’d never met. He was so obsessed that he believed that if he ever found this woman, he’d fall in love with her. He began to search for her, and the more he searched and didn’t find her, the more obsessed about her he became. Eventually, his obsession overwhelmed him and he began to fall apart. He turned to drugs and finally got so screwed up that he ended up in a mental institution. His obsession nearly destroyed him, buddy, and God knows where he would have finished up if an amazingly gifted psychiatrist hadn’t stepped in and saved the day.”
“Very funny, George,” said Clark. “But this is ancient history. What’s your point?”
“Ever hear that phrase about history repeating itself?” retorted George. “Let me tell you another story. There was another guy – also, oddly enough, pretty lonely – who found the woman of his dreams. The woman was ill, though, and, understandably, the guy wanted to make her better. He wanted it so much that he visited her constantly. He took time off work to visit her during the day. His work even began to suffer – holding down two demanding jobs isn’t easy, as you know. He worried about her all the time; often didn’t sleep well and frequently had nightmares about her-“
“Not so frequently these days,” interjected Clark. “I’m much better-“
“Hey, I’m not talking about you,” said George. “I’m telling you about this guy. Now, his friends warned him that he was becoming obsessed – heck, even his shrink told him he was obsessed – but he didn’t listen. He continued visiting the woman and losing sleep over her, until one day his obsession began to overwhelm him. He, too, wanted to turn to drugs, but the first guy had used them all up, so in his desperation he searched and found an even more powerful drug. Don’t ask me what the drug was; that’s not the point of my story. But whatever it was, this drug was so powerful that this time even the amazingly gifted psychiatrist couldn’t help this guy and so he ended up as a gibbering, drooling vegetable in a mental home. His obsession, my friend, finally succeeded in destroying him. The End.”
Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! She’d had no idea. Absolutely no idea.
He’d searched for her. Had wanted to make her his own...no, still wanted to make her his own. That was why he was so interested in her, why he kept visiting her at the clinic. He wanted her back to normal again so that he could claim her.
But why her? Why not one of those women he’d slept with - they’d be easier prey, surely? Willing and able.
But of course! He worked at the Daily Planet – he must have seen her picture in old editions and decided he liked what he saw. Decided he liked it so much that he’d set off on a one-man crusade to find her.
“You think I’m obsessed?” said Clark. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, for God's sake, Clark, give me some credit here!” said George. “I’m a pro – I get paid abhorrently large sums of money for knowing what the hell I’m talking about. You, buddy, are heading down the same path to Hades that you took a year ago. If you can’t see that then God help you.”
Despite her horror, she winced at George’s outburst. He really was giving poor Clark a hard time over this.
But ‘poor’ Clark had chased her. Set out to trap her. He was no better than the Brazzaville men.
Oh, God. Her hand drifted up to her mouth, suppressing the sob of fear threatening to give her position away.
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Clark again.
“Yes, I am,” replied George firmly. “Back off, Clark, before it’s too late.”
Monster Clark, she told herself frantically, not missing the irony of George’s newly-coined term. This was a monster Clark situation. It had to be – Clark was a good person.
So nothing was as it seemed. There was good reason why he’d searched for her. Maybe he’d been on the rebound after splitting up with his fiancée. He’d been so lonely that he’d become fixed on this woman he’d seen in back issues of the Planet and then everything had gone downhill after that. The pressure of suddenly being Superman had just made things worse.
Okay, that was a working hypothesis. Much better than evil, ensnaring Clark with an appetite for vulnerable women.
So this was what Perry and Alice couldn’t tell her. Of course they couldn’t - how could they have explained that Lois herself was the cause of Clark’s problems?
Oh, God.
And now she understood what Francine had meant by ‘too personally involved.’ He could never have been simply an objective observer, nor even a concerned friend. His entire being had been invested in the outcome of those sessions. George’s double act thing even made sense, too. Clark had been pretending all along.
“George, did anyone ever tell you you’re scary as hell when you’re angry?”
She blinked. Clark never swore.
“Why do you think I’m still single?” said George. “And watch your language, Superman.”
“I told you before, you’re a bad influence on me.”
“Yeah, yeah...so have I penetrated through that incredibly dense skull of yours yet?”
“Yes,” said Clark. “I’ll cut back. Maybe only visit her every other day.”
“Clark...”
“George, I love her,” said Clark softly. “I have to know she’s okay.”
“You think you love her. You can’t know for certain – you haven’t met the real Lois yet.”
He loved her? Oh, God. This just got more and more confusing. How could he love her? She was the bird with the broken wing. A man like Clark didn’t date women like her.
“Granted,“ replied Clark, “but I know this Lois pretty well and I think I’ve learnt enough to know what she’ll be like once she’s really got herself together. I think I’ll still love her then – probably even more so.”
“You know squat, Clark,” said George. “And even more importantly, you don’t know how she’ll feel about you.” He sighed. “We’ve been through all this, buddy. Okay, she needed you when she wasn’t able to speak for herself, but that’s all changed now. Now’s the time when you need to step back and let her find her own way. Give her the space to figure herself out, get back on her feet and start living her own life the way she wants to live it. Then, if you’re really, really lucky, she might still want to know you. But up until that point, she needs you to fade into the background for a while.”
“I’m just not sure if I can do that.” There was tenderness coupled with a desolate, perhaps even a desperate, quality in Clark’s voice.
“Yeah, I know. But that’s what you’ve got me for...and quit looking at me like that, buddy. I’m a strictly women-only kind of a guy, okay?”
Clark chuckled. “Me, too, George. Anyway, you’re not my type. Too...chunky.”
“It’s okay, you can say it – I’m fat. Hours and hours of therapy have enabled me to admit that, I’m proud to say,” declared George. “But seriously, whether you like it or not, you’re still a recovering drug addict, and that means you need to manage your stress levels a whole lot better than you have been lately. We’ve been over that, too, haven’t we?”
“Yes. Ad nauseam.”
“And we’ll keep going over it until you start listening, so quit being such a smart *** ,” said George. “Tell me, Clark, do you want to give up your stressful job at the Planet?”
“No, George.”
“And do you want to give up your incredibly stressful job as Superman?”
“No, George.”
“So what does that leave that you can give up?”
“Talking to you?”
“Ha. Very funny. Try again.”
Clark sighed. “Hiding my real feelings from Lois?”
“Bingo! What else?”
“Blaming myself for things that are outside my control?”
“Bingo again! But specifically...?”
“Blaming myself when she gets upset or has a panic attack?”
“See, you do know all this stuff,” said George. “You just act like you don’t. So tell me, do you think she’s ready to know the truth about you? Because that would be another way to quit the play-acting.”
“No, I couldn’t tell her yet,” said Clark. “I wish I could, but it wouldn’t be fair when she’s got enough of her own problems to deal with.”
“Okay, so for her sake and your sake, it’s best if you back off a bit,” said George. “Is that our considered opinion?”
Clark sighed. “I guess so.”
“Hey, cheer up!” said George. “Things are looking up – Lois is getting better. What’s not to be cheerful about?”
“You’re right,” said Clark. “So long as I know she’s happy and healthy, that’s the most important thing. Everything else is secondary.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” replied George. “I didn’t glue you back together again so that I could watch you drift along playing second fiddle to Lois’s happiness. I want you up and out there, Clark. I want you snagging the big stories and performing the daring rescues. I want you wowing the world with your abilities. I want you to take risks – big ones. In short, I want you living up to that ridiculous name you gave yourself.”
“Wow, George, you really know how to make a guy feel proud, you know that?”
“Oh, shove it where the sun don’t shine, buddy,” growled George. “I’m just protecting my reputation. I’m the man who fixed Superman, after all. Doesn’t look good for me if Superman turns into Wimpyman. I’ll lose all my patients – and all those nice big fat cheques they send me.”
Lois stood up as she heard Clark laugh. She’d heard enough. More than enough. She needed to go somewhere private and figure out how she felt about all this.
*******************
There was a soft knock on her door. “Lois? Are you okay?”
Francine. She’d known it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for her.
She hunched the blankets further up over her shoulder. “I’m fine,” she called.
A pause; perhaps Francine had given up and gone away. Then, “I’m coming in, okay?”
Lois didn’t really care either way. Francine wasn’t going to be able to fix this.
The door opened; feet padded across the carpet. The edge of the bed dipped.
“Hey.” Spoken softly and with compassion. Francine was good at that. “What’s up, Lois?”
“Nothing.”
“You missed a couple of classes.”
“Didn’t feel like going.”
“No-one saw you at dinner, either.”
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“You feeling sick?” suggested Francine. “I could get Caroline to come up and take a look at you.”
Because even though Caroline was only the head nurse, she was female and therefore non-threatening. “I’m fine.”
Francine’s hand settled on her blanket-covered shoulder. “Something’s upset you, huh?”
“A bit, maybe,” she conceded.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Just don’t wait too long, all right?”
She nodded miserably.
“I’m off duty in an hour,” said Francine. “But I’ll be here from eight tomorrow. Any time, okay, Lois? I can reschedule my other appointments.”
She nodded again.
“All right. And don’t be afraid to ask for help from the night staff. That’s what they’re here for.” Francine gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The bed rocked again as she stood and made her way to the door. “Sleep well.”
“Francine?”
“Yes?”
“Could you get me an appointment with George?” she asked. “Soon?”
Because she didn’t know where else to turn. The terrible power of Clark’s obsession was so frightening that it was either talk to George or remain cowering under her blankets for ever.
“George?” Francine frowned. “Why do you need to speak with him? Is this to do with Clark again?”
Lois bit on her bottom lip, remembering Francine’s tacit disapproval of her involvement with him.
“Oh, Lois,” sighed Francine. “Well, I’ll see what I can do, but you and I need to talk about Clark’s role here. I’m not convinced he’s helping.”
Neither was she, but neither was she convinced she wanted to lose him. Which was why she needed to see George.
*****************
