Clark unlocked his front door and stumbled inside, then shut the door without locking it. He stumbled to the couch and flopped down on his back, then pulled off his glasses and put his hands over his face.
This was a disaster, a total and complete and utter disaster. And he had no one to blame but himself. That had to have been the worst ending to a date in the entire history of dating. Bar none.
How could this have happened? How could he have foreseen Lois’ extreme reaction? Sure, he thought she’d be upset, maybe enough to put some space between them, maybe even back away for a while, at the worst not want a romantic relationship with him for any number or combination of reasons, but he never envisioned that she’d never want to see him again. And there was no give in her attitude or her actions tonight.
It was a little late, just after ten-thirty, and his parents were surely asleep already, even though they lived one time zone earlier than he. But he had to talk to someone. He had to tell someone about tonight. He needed to hear someone tell him what to do, how to fix this catastrophe.
He had to force himself not to crush the phone as he punched the speed-dial for the house in Smallville.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Four rings.
He started to hang up. This was not something he could leave on his parents’ answering machine. Then a click and a sleepy, deep male voice grunted, “Hullo?”
“Dad? It’s me. I need – I’m sorry to call so late but I didn’t know who else to—”
“Clark? Hang on a second.” Clark heard what he thought were cloth-brushing-against-cloth noises, then soft footsteps, then his father spoke again. “Sorry, Son, I just got out of bed and came in the front room. Your mother is exhausted. We were helping the church group deliver meals to the Harris family.”
“What? Why? What happened?”
His dad sighed. “That’s right, you couldn’t know. Mark Harris, used to be sheriff, Rachel’s father, I know you remember him – anyway, he was in a car wreck yesterday – wait, no, it’s still Friday, isn’t it, happened late this morning. An eighteen-wheeler crossed into his lane on State Highway 29 and hit his car – he was driving his wife’s car, actually – hit him on the driver’s side back door, spun it around and smashed it pretty badly. He has a broken leg, a broken arm, a bad concussion, and some internal injuries. Rachel and her mother Janey were at the hospital most of the day, and they naturally weren’t up to cooking or cleaning.”
“Oh, no! What did the doctors say about him?”
“The doctors told Janey and Rachel tonight that he’ll recover as long as he doesn’t have any serious setbacks in the next – ah, I think it’s three days more now. By mid-day Tuesday, anyway. They’re both still at the hospital with him. Martha’s going to relieve Janey in the morning so she can get some real sleep.”
“Good. Not about the wreck, of course, but that he’s probably going to recover.” He huffed through his nose. “Kinda puts the reason for my call in perspective, though.”
“Perspective is a good thing to have. So why did you call?”
Clark hesitated, then said, “Maybe I should call back tomorrow. I don’t know how urgent this is, what with you guys busy at home and with Mark and Janey.”
Clark heard his father try to stifle a yawn and almost succeed. “No, I’m up now, and if you don’t tell me I’m going to wonder why you called and have to wake up your mother so she can rock me back to sleep.”
“Yech. Dad, please don’t say stuff like that to me. I mean, I think it’s great that you and Mom still – still love each other and all, but I really don’t need that kind of detail.”
Jonathan chuckled. “Okay, I’ll keep it clean. Now tell me why you called.”
“Well – remember the advice you two gave me last week? About Lois? About telling her about – you know?”
“I assume you mean the advice about telling her about your part-time job.”
“Yes. Exactly. Well – I told her tonight.”
His father waited for more, but when Clark didn’t continue, he said, “I’m assuming from the time of this call and your general demeanor that the conversation didn’t go very well.”
“Ah – no. It didn’t go well at all. She called me all kinds of nasty names and told me she never wanted to see me again.”
“I see.” Jonathan hesitated again, then added, “When are you going to go and talk this out with her?”
Clark sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “I won’t ask you how you knew my plans.”
“I know my son. You wouldn’t want this situation to go on unresolved, but you wouldn’t put any pressure on her, either. And my question stands.”
“I – I really don’t know. She was madder than I’ve ever seen her.”
“She’ll get over it, I reckon.”
“She slapped me.”
His father stopped breathing for a moment. “Slapped you? In the face?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure she bruised her hand, too.”
“After you told her?”
“After I told her the secret and after she fainted and I caught her.”
“Fainted? Oh, my, that is bad.”
“She tried to punch me in the nose, too, but I dodged that one.”
“Wow. That really would’ve hurt her. Made her even madder, too.”
“Yes. I know Lois better than any other woman in my circle of friends, but I don’t know women in general well at all. How long do you think I should wait?”
“Wow. That’s a tough one. I don’t – hang on, I think your mother’s awake.”
The other phone clicked. “Clark? I think I understood what I heard your father say. You told Lois about – your other job and she reacted worse than you’d anticipated?”
“Far worse. She said she doesn’t want to see me again. Ever.”
“Oh. Your father was right, that is bad.”
“I got that, Mom. The question now is, how long do I let her cool off before I see her again?”
“Hmm. I assume you’re both off work tomorrow?”
“Yes. That’s one of the reasons I picked this Friday for the big reveal.”
“Well, I think you should let her sleep in tomorrow, assuming she does, but I don’t think you should wait too long. What about tomorrow, mid-afternoon? If she’s not home when you show up, just slip a note under the door.”
Clark thought for a moment, then said, “Thanks, Mom. That sounds like good plan to me. Dad, do you agree?”
“Son, I never disagree with your mother regarding other people’s relationships. I’d go with her advice.”
Clark almost smiled. “Thanks, both of you. Now go back to sleep and wake up refreshed. I may need to cry on both your shoulders tomorrow night.”
“Okay, Clark. Good night. Martha, I’ll be back in the bedroom in a minute. And I’m sorry I was so loud that I woke you.”
“Oh, Jonathan, you know I’d be bothered if I’d missed this chance to talk to our son, especially since this was so important to him. Now come on back to bed and I’ll make sure you sleep like a baby.”
Clark did smile this time. “Okay, you two, take your married PG-13 conversations private. I’m hanging up now.”
“Good night, son.”
“Good night, sweetie. And good luck with Lois tomorrow.”
“Thanks, both of you. Now go to sleep!”
*****
Lois stomped along the street with an intensity that begged for an attempted mugging so she could hit someone who’d feel it. She even took one shortcut through a dark alley she never took at night, hoping for a really stupid perp to accost her.
No one was foolhardy enough to try his luck against her.
She slammed through the door of her apartment building and ran up the stairs, trying to burn off some of the energy from her fury. Her keyring jingled in her shaky hand and she couldn’t insert the proper key in the locks, so she gave up and kicked the door twice. “Lucy!” she yelled. “Lemme in! Now!” She shoved the keyring back into her purse, then punched the door with the same hand with which she’d slapped Clark.
Her hand screamed at her as if it were broken.
As she pulled back and gasped in pain, the door flew open and Lucy grinned at her. “Run out of punching bags, Sis?”
Lois blew past her and stalked to the kitchen, where she turned on the faucet and put her left hand under the cold water. Lucy followed her and stopped at the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Lois, what happened? Are you okay?”
The tears had held off, waiting for the anger to lose energy and stop blocking them, but the pain in her hand combined with the pain in her heart to overcome the last barrier to release and she burst out blubbering. The tears were as much from anger as they were from physical pain, but the overriding emotion was a feeling of betrayal.
Clark had betrayed Lois.
A part of her mind tried to tell her she shouldn’t be surprised, that men had betrayed her over and over again ever since childhood. Her father had betrayed the family and left. Danny Williams had betrayed her as a junior in high school, spreading the rumor that she was frigid and scared of boys after she’d fought off his forceful offer of sex in the back seat of his car. Paul Murphy had betrayed her in college, allowing Linda King to seduce him away from her. Patrick Sullivan had betrayed her in Ireland, making promises he’d had no intention of keeping. Claude Bouchard had betrayed her when he’d convinced her he loved her, slept with her, stolen her first big story and told everyone at work how unresponsive she was in bed.
Now Clark had betrayed her. He’d kept the biggest secret of all time from her for almost two years. He’d let her think he was dead, shot to death in Georgie Hairdo’s club, for almost three days. He’d told her he loved her, gotten her to tell him she loved him, then clubbed her with the confession that he—
She couldn’t even think it.
And not only had Clark betrayed her, Superman had betrayed her too. The superhero wasn’t nearly as heroic as he claimed to be. He was fully capable of deceit, of playing the trickster, of deliberately misleading her to believe one man was actually two different men.
And she’d never even suspected. Not really. Oh, Clark had mysteries and puzzles and curiosities surrounding him, just as any person did, but this was not something trivial or cute or minor. This was huge, immense, mammoth, colossal, gigantic, titanic, and it overshadowed everything else that had passed between them.
He’d said he loved her and she’d believed him.
Then he’d told her he’d been lying to her since they’d met.
If he’d lie to her about Superman so easily, he couldn’t possibly love her as much as he claimed he did. It had to be a lie.
It was unforgiveable. This was not something she could overcome, nor would she let him convince her he’d been justified. He had to go, get out of her life, let her heal as much as she could, move on with her future.
And she’d never trust another man enough to love her as long as she lived.
Lucy’s embrace suddenly penetrated her mind, and Lois realized that her hand felt frozen and her nose was running and her face was wet with tears and her sister was holding a hand towel against her shoulder.
Lucy turned off the water and wiped Lois’ cheeks, then dabbed her hands dry. She offered the towel to her sister. “You need this, Sis. Come on, sit down and tell me all about it.”
Lois took the towel, dried her hands, blew her nose, then allowed Lucy to guide her to the couch. They sat down side by side near the middle. Lois bent forward and shed more tears as her sister stroked her hair and made soft, sympathetic noises.
As Lois wound down, Lucy shifted around to embrace her older sister. “Lois, you were with Clark tonight, weren’t you? On a date, I mean?”
Lois nodded.
“Um – was it a bad date?”
Lois shook her head.
Lucy frowned. “A good date, then?”
Lois nodded again.
Lucy touched her sister’s chin and guided Lois’ face into view. “If it was a good date, why are you melting down? What happened?”
Lois sniffed and blew her nose again, then leaned her forehead against Lucy’s shoulder. “I – I learned something – I found out tonight – Clark has a secret. A really big one. One he’d – he’d been hiding ever since I met him.”
Lucy kissed the top of Lois’ head, then asked, “Was it a bad thing, this secret? Is it something illegal?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Lois sat up and grabbed her sister’s hands. “But it’s big. Really, really big. I never would have guessed it, not ever.” Her voice hardened. “And the lousy scumbag didn’t trust me enough to share it with me.”
Lucy frowned at Lois. “I don’t understand. You said you never would have guessed this secret, so how did you find out what it was? Did someone else tell you?”
“No,” growled Lois. “He said I was the first person he’d ever told. His parents are the only other people who know.” She opened her mouth to add something, then shut it. It didn’t matter how mad she was or how betrayed she felt. She wasn’t going to reveal the Secret.
Not yet, anyway.
Reveal the Secret. What a tantalizing concept.
What a delicious revenge.
Lucy leaned back a little. “I don’t like that tiny evil glint in your eye. If you’re the first person Clark’s told about this secret, you can’t tell anyone else. Not even me, okay? If Clark wants me to know, he’ll tell me himself. Otherwise I’ll be happy just to wonder.”
“No, I’m not going to tell you. Not yet, anyway. But I want that lying son of a sea slug to leave, and I’m going to use the secret to make him go.”
Lucy recoiled in apparent shock. “What? Why? How can calm, cool, collected Clark Kent have a secret that bad? And why do you want him gone, whatever that means, that badly?”
Lois turned narrowed eyes to her sister. “He betrayed me! Clark Kent betrayed me just like every other man I’ve ever trusted! I’ve never retaliated against any of those men but I’m going after Kent hard! He’s leaving the Planet and Metropolis and I can’t wait to see him gone!”
Lucy slowly stood. “Lois, please, don’t be that way. Clark really cares about you, and he—”
Lois jumped up. “Then why did he lie to me? Huh? Tell me that!”
Lucy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I can’t possibly tell you that if I don’t know what this big secret is. You said he told you, not that you found out and confronted him with it. If that’s what happened, I can see you being upset, but I don’t see any reason for you to be this – this vengeful, this full of hatred. If you’d learned it independently, would it make a difference in how you feel right now?”
“No! It would be worse because he’d still be lying!”
“But he—”
“That’s enough!” Lois roughly pushed her sister away. “Stop defending him! He doesn’t deserve your loyalty!”
Lucy’s face hardened and she leaned toward her sister. “Apparently he doesn’t deserve yours either.”
That shocked Lois. Before she could answer, Lucy had grabbed a windbreaker and her purse and unlocked the front door. The slam as she left shook the door frame.
Lois stood still for a long moment, still holding the towel. Then she folded it and found a dry corner, wiped her eyes, and marched to the laundry basket. She’d wash out the towel and rid herself of the memory of her breakdown.
Just as she would rid herself of Clark Kent.
*****
Clark spent a total of about forty minutes in bed that night, all of them awake and staring at the ceiling. Despite his unreasoning anger and resentment against Superman, he jerked out of bed before one o’clock and spun into the hero. Maybe he could find a mugger to discourage or a hurricane bearing down on a tropical paradise he could deflect. At this point, he mused, either one would do.
He soared over the city for hours without finding any crime taking place or accidents to clean up or kittens to rescue or storms to tame. It was as if all the bad stuff Superman normally dealt with had giggled maniacally and hidden away from him for the night, refusing to allow him any shred of stress relief.
By six a.m. he was really tired.
He landed behind his apartment and spun into his civvies, thought about going to see Lois in The Suit, then thought better of it, then reconsidered again, then told himself he needed a shower. After running out of hot water, he dried himself, got dressed, and left to walk to the Daily Planet.
He tottered onto the news floor at seven thirty-three, not surprised to see Perry in his office with papers in front of him. He knocked on the doorframe and said, “Morning, Chief.”
“Huh? Oh, hey, Clark. What’re you doing here? I thought you’d be sleeping in after your date with Lois last night.”
The slightly risqué joke fell flat. “It was not a good date.”
“Ah.” Perry nodded twice, then said, “Anything I can help with?”
“No, sorry, we have to work this out ourselves.”
“I see. So why are you here and not talking to Lois?”
Clark pursed his lips, then said, “I don’t think waking her up this early would help the situation. You know she’s not a morning person.”
A grin tapped Perry’s lips for a moment, then he said, “You’re probably right. So you’re just passing time right now?”
Clark shrugged. “I guess so. You have anything I can do?”
Perry frowned slightly, then brightened. “Yes, actually.” He picked up two sheets of paper and held them out. “You can go through these stories and give me a quick edit on each one. Shouldn’t take you all that long.”
Clark took them and glanced at the byline on the top sheet. “Eduardo Friaz? I’m editing his copy? How long has he been working here, anyway?”
“Twelve years, and he still drops the occasional pronoun or definite article or comma or uses a gerund incorrectly. The story itself is solid, so I just want you to make sure the grammar is right. I’ll keep on with this other stuff while you check those.”
“Right.” He looked at the other sheet and frowned. “Do I know Alicia Porter?”
“I don’t think so. She’s a stringer who sends in occasional things on college-age fashion and music trends. This is a part-time gig for her, and I always need to massage her sentence content and structure. I’ve coached her on the proper news story structure, and she’s getting better, but every once in a while she’ll still bury the lead in the fifth paragraph.”
Clark nodded. “Thanks, Perry. I’ll get right on them.”
The editor smiled softly. “Thank you, Clark. You’ll save me some time, and I want to get home by noon. Alice is baking me a cake for no reason at all today.”
Clark turned toward his desk, almost chuckling. Nice to be reminded that true love did triumph.
Sometimes.
*****
Lois turned her head and looked at the clock. Eight-nineteen. Bleah. Morning already.
She threw the covers back and sat up, wishing she were still asleep. She tasted her mouth and frowned. Hadn’t she brushed her teeth last night? Wait, was the date with Clark—
She jumped up and spun around to look at the far side of the bed – empty – then grabbed her head and groaned. Why did she have a headache that felt like a hangover?
At least Clark wasn’t there to—
Clark.
The louse.
The unmitigated liar.
The cruel heartbreaker.
The betrayer of all that was good and true.
She remembered It. All of It. Every nerve-jangling, soul-crushing moment of It.
She wanted to scream but knew it would only hurt her throat. Clark had told her he – that evil, wicked man had lied to her for almost two years! And she hated him!
Why did her head hurt so much?
She stumbled into the living room and saw her purse on the dining table beside an empty wine bottle. Yeah, she thought, that’s right, I finished off that half-bottle last night. On top of the single glass she’d had with dinner and her current emotional state, it had hit her pretty hard. She was lucky she wasn’t barfing up her guts.
Good thing Lucy had snuck a few sips over the last couple of weeks. Her hangover would’ve been worse with more alcohol.
And where was Lucy, anyway? The girl had slammed out of the apartment last night and apparently hadn’t returned. Lois knew she should be worried, but at the moment it required too much effort. Her mental systems were overwhelmed with her unsteady physical condition and her white-hot fury at Clark.
She mentally dared him to come see her today. There were things she hadn’t said the night before and she desperately wanted to say them to his face before the anger faded.
Because it always had before. She’d never been able to sustain a good mad at Clark, not really. This time, though, she thought she could do it and do it well. His was the ultimate betrayal. Not only had he lied to her, presenting himself to her as two different men repeatedly and convincingly, he’d persuaded her to open her heart to him, to feel not only affection and friendship and trust, but love.
Yes. She had loved him before last night. Not now. Not ever again. She’d burn him out of her soul if she had to. She’d immolate her feelings for him and pour the hot ashes over his head. The sooner the better.
She stalked into the bathroom, ignoring the throbbing in her cranium, and yanked off her clothes. The shower was too hot for her head, but she forced herself to stand under it and let the pain rinse away with her shampoo.
A stupid joke Clark had told her earlier that week crossed her mind.
“When you wash your hair, Lois, always use shampoo. Never use real poo.”
She’d groaned and laughed and pulled him close and NO MORE!
No more tender thoughts about the great betrayer! None! Not ever! Like Romeo from Verona, Clark was ever banished from her mind and her heart!
And if he ever reappeared, the penalty would be death.
The shower wasn’t helping much, so she shut off the water and angrily dried herself. After she yanked the brush through her hair, she pulled on a robe and marched to the kitchen, the aspirin bottle in her hand. One glass of water and four tablets later, she marched back to the bedroom to dress.
Then she caught sight of the picture.
It was a shot of Lois on Clark’s arm the night he’d received his Kerth. Her face was turned up toward him and it shone like the sun. She looked like there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.
She’d display that abomination in her home no longer.
Lois marched to the frame, opened the back, removed the photo, and slowly tore it into small shreds and dropped each fragment into the trash can.
Now she could get dressed.
After the aspirin kicked in, she’d look for a note from Lucy – unlikely, given Lois’ late night – and check the answering machine. She didn’t remember the phone ringing, but it might have rung without her hearing it, given her state of intoxication and her righteous fury. And if Clark the Ratfink had left a message she might destroy the machine.
For good or ill, there were no messages.
Lois put on jeans, polo shirt, and sneakers, and started to clean up the apartment. It wasn’t a wreck by any means, but it could stand a good cleaning and she had the nervous energy to get it done today. Just for reference, she glanced at the kitchen clock. Nine-twelve.
Her head felt a little better, so she refilled her water glass and drank it down. That’s what Clark had told her to do if she was hung—
NO!
Thoughts of the betrayer were not allowed!
The plastic glass didn’t fracture when she slammed it down on the cabinet, but not for lack of effort on her part. Without another thought for the traitor, she ran to the closet and hauled out the vacuum cleaner and pushed it to the wall to plug it in.
Then she realized that any cleaning of surfaces above the floor would knock little bits of stuff on the floor. So she turned and snatched disposable cleaning cloths and spray cleaner off the closet shelf and attacked the dining table.
She dispatched the evidence of last night’s drinking spree, then wiped down the table hard enough to take off a layer of finish. Next, she put the few dishes on the kitchen cabinet in the sink and scrubbed the countertops. The dishwashing was next, and that wouldn’t take—
The doorbell rang.
With the dish towel clutched in one hand, she stalked to the door and yanked it open, expecting Lucy to say that she’d forgotten her key and it was twenty till ten and where had she been all—
Clark stood in the hallway.
His appearance at her door shocked her. She specifically remembered telling him she never wanted to see him again. Part of her mind told her to slam the door in his face. Another part insisted that she pull him in and rip him a new one.
A very, very tiny, miniscule, insignificant part cried out to put her arms around him and tell him she loved him.
In the quarter-second it took to beat that last part of her mind into a coma, Clark spoke.
“Lois, please let’s talk. Let me explain myself.”
“No.”
She wondered for a second who’d said that, then she replayed it in her mind and realized that she’d said it.
He looked as if he’d drop to his knees at any moment. “Please, Lois, talk to me. I don’t want our relationship to end like this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have lied to me.”
That wasn’t right. The flat tone of that statement wasn’t the way she wanted to say that to him. It should have come out at an impossibly high volume, at a frequency that would penetrate his super-ears and stick a knife into his skull. It should have been written in flame in front of his eyes and hot enough to melt his glasses. It should have knocked him to the floor writhing in pain, broken his ribs, torn the breath from his lungs, deafened him. It wasn’t enough for Lois.
But apparently he thought it was. His entire body deflated. His face all but fell to the floor. His mouth hung open and his hands lifted to either side in apparent supplication. He looked desperate, defeated, beaten and whipped.
Good.
She tightened her grip on the inside doorknob and spoke in that same flat tone. “I told you last night I never wanted to see you again. I told you to go away. I meant it. Go away and stay away.”
She tried to shut the door but his hand rose and held it open even though he didn’t step over the threshold. “Please! Please let me talk to you, let me explain why I did what I did. I think you’ll see things my way if you do.” He tried the puppy-dog eyes on her. “Please? I’m literally begging you.”
She cut her eyes to his hand on the door, then turned her head sharply. “Move your hand or I will call the police.”
He hesitated, then moved his hand. “Lois, please, let’s talk this over. I love you and—”
“NO!” she bellowed. “You do NOT get to tell me how much you love me! People who love other people don’t lie those other people for months at a time! They don’t betray the trust those other people put in them! You did both! I hate you and I don’t ever want to see you again!” She tried to slam the door, only to hit his shoe. “Move it or lose it, Kent!”
He huffed as if he were losing patience. “Look, your conditions aren’t workable. We both have jobs on the same floor of the same building and for the same newspaper! I can’t just stay out of your way on a daily basis. That’s not feasible.”
She leaned her face into the opening. Her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped in timbre and pitch. “No, you’re right this time, it isn’t. You and I can’t work in the same newsroom. You have to leave the city.”
“What!” His eyes flew open and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then he said, “You’ve got to be kidding! I’m not leaving the paper! I’ve got too much time and effort and good will invested in it!”
“Then I’ll tell everyone.”
Clark’s own eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “Now wait just a minute here! That’s not only not at all funny, that’s mean and cruel. And I don’t think you mean it.”
“Oh no? Why don’t we drive over to Perry’s house and get his input?”
“He’s at the paper until noon today.”
“Then let’s go see him.”
She abruptly thrust her arm out and pushed him back a half-step, just enough to close the door. Caught him off-balance, she thought, and when we get to the Planet I’m gonna do it again.
As she gathered her purse and windbreaker, she silently swore, I will never let Clark Kent hurt me again.
But I will hurt him. How I will hurt him.
And, she suddenly decided, he’s walking to the office. Or running. Or flying. She absolutely did not care which.
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