The Nightly Ritual
By Blaise Pascal <pascal256@yahoo.com>
Rated G
Submitted June 2005
------------
Note: Ideas from this story were borrowed from a wedding sermon that I
heard recently (thank you, Father Jeff). I actually wrote this over
three years ago, but I never had a chance to submit this until now.
This story is a stand-alone, and does not draw upon events from any of
my previous stories. It also assumes that none of the world events
that took place after 1998 ever happened. Comments welcome.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, but the characters are not. I'm merely
borrowing the characters from WB, DC Comics, etc., etc. No borrowing,
copying, or distributing without my permission, etc., etc.
------------
THE NIGHTLY RITUAL
[Metropolis, St. Mary's Hospital]
[Monday, October 24, 2067, 9:34 P.M. EDT]
Clark Kent's eyes opened. He jerked his head up, squinted at the
clock on the other side of wall and groaned. 'Uh oh,' he thought.
'I'm late.' He sighed as he slowly moved the sheet out of the way.
Clark couldn't believe that he had dozed off again. The day had been
actually normal (at least, it was normal for someone who had been in
assisted living for the past seven months), but it had seemed that
Clark had been dozing off, and had been sleeping, more often than he
had used to. He took a deep breath and grasped the railing on the
sides of the hospital bed as he lifted himself up. It was becoming
more difficult to move anywhere, and it was frustrating.
Of course, Superman would have had no trouble lifting space shuttles
into space, much less moving about. But Clark was no longer Superman.
Charles, his oldest grandson, now had the title. Clark, for his part,
had been gradually losing his powers ever since he had retired from
the Daily Planet a little over thirty years ago. It was at a routine
physical last year when Dr. Emil Hamilton II (Dr. Klein's successor as
Clark's 'physician') had informed Clark that all of his powers were
gone and that he was human just like everyone else.
There was a time when Clark had longed to be 'like everyone else'.
While he would never have imagined that this would be the way he would
become human, Clark never mourned the lost of his powers. Ever since
he retired, he had long felt that he had done all that he could do,
both as a reporter for Metropolis' Daily Planet and as Superman. What
he had done as Superman was obvious to the people of planet Earth, but
what he had done with his words in print were just as effective to the
citizens of Metropolis. As far as he was concerned, it would be a
matter of time when both he and Lois would die (hopefully together,
Clark thought) and go to a better place.
Of course, Clark realized that because of his powers he had quite a
bit of time left. Interesting enough, while he himself had been in
decline the last thirty years (in decline for a Kryptonian, anyway),
Lois, his wife, and only the woman he had loved for what had seemed
like forever, had always been in good health. Dr. Hamilton wasn't
sure what had caused Clark to lose his powers.
The doctor could only offer two theories. One was that the same
yellow sun that had gradually given Clark his powers in the first
place (from birth to age eighteen) took his powers away from him as he
reached the end of his life. The amount of his powers throughout his
life, in other words, could be graphed in a bell curve. The power of
flying, which was the last of the powers Clark had acquired, was the
first to go. And the superhearing, which Clark had gotten first (when
he was six), was the last to leave him.
The other theory had to do with what Clark had done to one of his
closest friends over seventy-years ago. Clark had to give some of his
life force to Jimmy Olsen because he had somehow turned into an old
man. What Clark had done turned Jimmy back to normal. Dr. Hamilton
had theorized that, because Lois had been physically close to Clark
for so many years, Clark had, little by little, given his life force
to her, which was taking away his powers in the process, due to his
advanced age. But why didn't Clark start to lose his powers until
thirty years ago? Dr. Hamilton felt that it was because Lois had
always been in excellent health, and that it wasn't until she herself
reached the age of seventy when she depended on Clark's life force to
maintain her excellent health.
It didn't matter to Clark why he was losing his powers. After all, he
had felt that he had done all he could do. The first thirty years
after retirement were simply a bonus, because Lois had always been by
his side. They had team-taught a course in Journalism for Metro U.,
Lois' alma mater. They had written their autobiographies together,
which had become long-time best sellers. And of course, they had done
quite a bit of traveling, visiting their children, grandchildren &
great-grandchildren, all of whom by then had scattered all over the
country.
Starting from last year, however, things had been more difficult for
both of them. Their hearing gradually lost their sharpness. They
started to forget things. Both of them started wearing glasses (for
Clark, though, it was the first time he had to wear glasses with
*prescription* lenses). Worst of all, it had become more difficult
for Lois and Clark to stand, walk, and move about.
After enduring months of this, Lois and Clark decided to move into a
retirement home. Their children and grandchildren objected to this,
of course. They had preferred that Lois and Clark would live with CJ
and Laura (the children), who with their spouses were living in the
*same* house in midtown Metropolis. CJ, Laura, Jo, and Jerry were all
approaching seventy themselves, and they were all retired, but all of
them were still in good health, and they had the ability to care for
Lois and Clark. But Lois and Clark would have none of it.
Lois' reasoning, though she did not tell Clark, was that she had
thought her husband might feel useless and inept if he were to be
always surrounded by people (meaning his family) with superpowers.
Clark's reasoning, though he did not tell Lois, was that he had
assumed, that since Lois had been always independent she would not
want to take orders from anyone, even if it was from her own family.
Luckily for them, the waiting period at the St. Mary's Midtown
Retirement Home very short at the time, so the couple moved in to one
of the apartments in early March.
Then came the bouts with pneumonia.
It had come as a surprise to everyone when Clark had been diagnosed
with pneumonia in mid September. Two weeks later, Lois had gotten the
same thing. They were transferred to St. Mary's Hospital, which was
next door to the retirement home. Unfortunately for them, since the
facilities were run by a very strict Catholic order of religious
sisters, they were separated by gender (even though Lois and Clark
were married!) and were placed in opposite sides of the building,
Clark in 3rd Floor East and Lois in 3rd Floor West. The two of them
had been in their respective rooms ever since.
Lois and Clark's seventy-first wedding anniversary was the first one
that they could not spend together because of their being bedridden.
They had been in such a bad shape then that neither of them could
visit the other. Instead, their family had to visit them separately;
two small, short celebrations were held in each of the rooms. When
the family had visited Clark, he had maintained a cheerful exterior,
but inside he had been mourning the fact that he hadn't seen Lois in
over a month, and that he and she hadn't done anything together.
Until now.
Since Clark had contracted pneumonia first, and since he *used* to be
Kryptonian, he had been able to recover first. He had been feeling
better since a few days ago, but the doctors and nurses had told him
that he needed to stay for a while longer for observation. Then, he
would be released to his apartment at the retirement home. He visited
Lois in her room as much as he could, but it wasn't enough. So he had
come up with this idea on Friday, an idea that gave him something to
do regularly before going to bed. A nightly ritual.
The first thing to do was to wait until 9:30 in the evening. He had
found out that at this time of night the number of nurses in the 3rd
floor was the fewest. And today, Clark would have to hurry it up a
bit because it was now 9:38 and he was running late. Slowly but
surely, he dragged himself out of bed, using every bit of strength
that he had. His wheelchair was strategically placed in front of the
night lamp next to the bed, so he only had to stand for a short while
before situating himself on the wheelchair.
He checked his appearance, though it wasn't necessary. Clark was
wearing the usual hospital gown and pair of socks. His glasses were
on the little nightstand under the night lamp, from which he promptly
fetched. The slippers, however, were nowhere to be seen. Now where
were they? Then Clark remembered; the slippers were under the
hospital bed, where they always had been.
Now that everything was ready, Clark flipped a switch on the arm of
the wheelchair. Fortunately for him, the wheelchair was fully
motorized. It came to life, and Clark began the difficult task of
maneuvering it (since he had always had problems with the controls).
The wheelchair darted forward. He pushed the control knob to the
right to make the right turn. To late, Clark realized that he didn't
have a wide enough angle to make the turn, so he and the wheelchair
bumped into the wall, shaking the clock in the process. He winced at
the sound, and listened for anyone who might be out in the hallway.
Nothing, not a sound.
With a short pull on the control knob, Clark backed up. He noticed
that the dent in the wall was more pronounced (Clark had bumped into
the wall at the same spot three times before). He pushed forward,
quickly reached the door, and paused. The door to his room was an
automatic sliding door, easy enough to get through. However, the
corridor outside the door was a bit narrow, and Clark had to always be
careful exiting the door and stopping quickly so that he could avoid
hitting the wall in the corridor.
He pushed the control knob forward, moved through the doorway, and
quickly let go of the controls to stop the wheelchair.
Whirrrrr... bump!
'Ouch!'
With frustration, Clark backed up, favoring his knee. Once again, he
had hit the wall in the corridor. Would he ever get this right?
Shaking his head, the wheelchair darted forward, beginning the longest
and most difficult part of the journey. It was the longest because it
was quite a distance from his room to Lois'. And it was the most
difficult because he must pass the main lobby on the 3rd floor, where
one solitary nurse was on duty.
Clark had studied the working habits of the other nurses, and
particularly the lone nurse in the lobby. The other nurses seemed to
be everywhere *but* the path he took from his room to Lois'. The
nurse in the lobby worked at a desk with a high counter in front of
it, and right next to the desk was a door to an office. Her shift
began at 9, and she always started her shift by doing paperwork of
some kind. It was always done a little after 9:30, and by that time,
she would go into the office to file the papers away.
When Clark reached the lobby, he saw that the nurse was not at her
desk and that the office door was slightly ajar. There was a small
window in the office, and with his glasses on Clark could see the
nurse filing away in the far corner of the office. He applied more
forward pressure to the control knob on his wheelchair, as if it
allowed him go faster. The nurse's desk and office was the last thing
he had to pass before he was in the clear, and he had reached the desk
when he saw the nurse walking towards the office door, about to return
to her desk.
Looking straight forward, Clark kept going, hearing the footsteps
getting closer. The door closed just as he made it to the hallway
that led to the west wing. It was very possible that the nurse saw
him as he passed, and so he braced himself for her voice, waiting for
her to ask him where the heck he thought he was going. But none came,
only the squeaking of the desk chair as she sat back down.
Unbeknownst to Clark, the nurse had known all along what Clark was
doing. Nancy had actually seen him pass through the lobby two days
ago, and she had been secretly watching him do the same thing every
night since. Despite regulations, she let him go, knowing full well
who he was and where he was going. Clark Kent and Lois Lane were the
two most famous patients on this floor, and Nancy knew that they had
been married for a *very* long time. Simply put, Nancy was a hopeless
romantic, and she knew what Clark was going to do. (How else could
she have convinced the other nurses on duty to stay out of sight at
this time of evening?)
Clark continued forward, thinking that he had once again duped the
nurse in the lobby. Luckily for him, Lois' room wasn't too far in the
west wing, fourth door on the right after the lobby. Although he had
been increasingly a victim of forgetfulness, he could never forget
Lois' room number: 348, the same as the house on Hyperion Avenue they
had lived in for so long. Right next to the door was a small keypad.
With shaky hands Clark typed the code: 1, 9, 6 & 7 (which, another
coincidence, was Lois' birth year). The door slid open, and Clark
wheeled himself through the doorway.
The room was dark, save for one single faded light over the bed. It
was the same size as Clark's room, but her bathroom was bigger. The
bed was partially raised. Lois was sleeping, with a paperback lying
in her lap. The small HLCD (High-definition Liquid Crystal Display)
mounted on the wall on the far corner was still on. Slowly Clark
moved until his wheelchair was in front of the nightstand. He raised
his arm to one of the buttons on the wall near the bed and pushed.
The bed moved slowly into a more upright position.
The movement caused Lois to stir from her sleep. She blinked once,
twice, and looked around the room, almost in confusion. As her gaze
fell onto Clark in the wheelchair, confusion turned into happiness.
"You're late," she whispered, smiling.
"I fell asleep," Clark whispered back. "I seem to be doing that more
lately."
"I assumed that you forgot. We seem to be doing that too these days."
"Never." Clark scooted forward and grabbed the arms on his
wheelchair. He forced himself up, slowly and carefully. Quickly he
took hold of the metal railing on Lois' bed for support. At the same
time, Lois, with difficulty, sat up and moved towards Clark,
expectation in her eyes. He leaned forward, and she tilted her head
up, and despite their unsteadiness, their lips met in a goodnight
kiss, a short and sweet kiss, a kiss still full of love, a love that
was forever.
As they broke apart, gravity and age took over. Lois flopped back
onto the bed, and Clark collapsed into the wheelchair, at the same
exact moment.
"Good night, Lois."
"Good night, Clark."
Clark reached out with his right hand and grasped her left. As if on
cue, both of them heard voices outside her room, getting closer. The
goodnight kiss had been applied. The interlude was over.
Lois looked at him with sad eyes. "You better go."
"I know," he sighed. He reached for the control knob on the
wheelchair and reversed a little. Then he moved forward towards the
door. He checked the outside for any more voices. He heard none.
Just before he exited the room, one whispered voice stopped him.
"Clark?"
He turned around. "Hmm?"
"I love you."
"I love you too." Clark lingered for a moment longer, watching Lois
closing her eyes and immediately falling asleep, with a big smile on
her face. He faced forward and passed the doorway, this time not
hitting the wall opposite the door. Clark too, was smiling.
He was getting better, and he could see that Lois was also getting
better. In no time at all, he surmised, he and Lois would return to
their apartment, and they could resume saying 'Good night' the old
fashioned way. Certainly, they did not have much time left in their
lives, but, as Clark had once said early on in their marriage, "It's
not the years that count. It's the moments. Right now. As they
happen." Still smiling, he turned left, and began the long trek back
to his room.
The End
