Friday September 26, 2008
“We’re home!” Mattie shouted as they burst through the front door.
“I’m in my office!” Lois called back, not looking up from her screen. She’d spent the day working from home, knocking out another chapter in her latest book.
“Hey,” Clark’s voice came from the office doorway, warm and friendly.
She looked up and couldn’t help but smile at him. “Hey yourself. Thanks for getting them from school.”
“Anytime. Mattie said there’s something wrong with your kitchen sink. Want me to take a look at it?”
Lois waved him off. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I know what’s wrong with it. It’s just draining slow because the disposal is clogged. I tried to fix it, but I can’t get one of the brackets unscrewed. The plumber’s coming on Monday.”
Clark’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to wait for a plumber. Let me look at it.”
“Thanks,” she said, standing and walking with him to the kitchen. “Oh, I should get that book for you while you’re here. Remind me before you leave.”
“A Thousand Splendid Suns? Did you finish it?”
“Last night,” she confirmed. “I can’t believe you still haven’t read it. You loved Kite Runner so much, and I swear this one is even better. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.”
“Thanks,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ll start it tonight.”
At the sink, he opened the cabinet and crouched down. She saw his eyes dart quickly around the room, double checking for the kids, then he lowered his glasses and stared at the pipes.
“Oh yeah, the disposal is fine. The clog is right here,” he said, tapping on the point where two pipes met at a 90 degree angle. “That’s an easy fix. Is this the bracket you couldn’t get off?”
“Yeah, I even tried using a wrench but I couldn’t get it.”
He stood and nodded. “Can you get a towel and a bucket?”
She hurried to the laundry room and retrieved both items. When she returned, she saw that he had loosened his tie and was rolling up his sleeves. Her eyes lingered on his forearms, and she dragged her attention back to his face.
Oblivious to her distraction, Clark knelt back down and laid the towel under the pipes, then lined up the bucket. She leaned against the counter, watching his white dress shirt pull taut across his shoulders and upper back as he worked. He removed the first bracket, then easily popped off the one she’d struggled with. He gave the pipe a tug, separating it from the pipe with the clog, and water and tiny chunks of food began to pour into the bucket. Clark swept his finger through the clogged joint, dumping more bits of food into the bucket.
“Well, that is as disgusting as I was imagining,” Lois muttered, and Clark laughed, wiping his hands on the towel.
He lined the pipes back up and screwed the fasteners back on, and Lois let her gaze slide up his arms and back to his shoulders again.
She realized suddenly that he was saying her name and felt her cheeks warm. “What?”
“Where did you go?” he teased. “I said your name three times. Turn on the water, so I can make sure this is working.”
She took two steps toward him and then leaned past him to reach for the faucet, her bare leg brushing against his arm. She pulled on the handle and water spilled into the sink and drained appropriately.
“Perfect,” she said, turning it off and taking a step to the side. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said as he stood and washed his hands. “I wish you would call me for stuff like this. I could have fixed this days ago. It’s no trouble.”
He reached past her for the hand towel that lay on the counter behind her, and she tried to stifle her abrupt inhalation and calm her suddenly racing heart. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, and she cursed his ability to read her body so well.
She raised her hands to his chest, intending to shove him away playfully and roll her eyes at him, making a joke of her reaction to him. But he captured her wrists, and held her there gently, and her hands lingered on his chest instead.
“Lois,” he said softly.
“I should get you that book,” she said abruptly, stepping back. And he dropped her wrists and nodded.
Sunday September 28, 2008
Lois felt her attention drift again from the stack of research in front of her to the small television on the dresser where muted footage of the collapsed apartment building rolled in an endless loop. What had been a rescue mission all weekend had only hours ago been officially reclassified as a recovery mission. All weekend, Superman had worked side by side with shifts of emergency personnel to locate and extricate injured residents. He had finally left an hour ago, and she hadn’t been able to stop worrying about him. She hoped he had gone to his mother, or that he was home, passed out and not still up castigating himself for arriving too late or not being able to save everyone. She had contemplated calling him, but didn’t want to risk waking him if he was finally asleep.
She had just forced her attention back to the papers when she felt the thump more than heard it. The corners of her mouth twitched up, but she stayed otherwise motionless, propped up against the headboard of her king size bed. She was wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, comforter covering her legs, a thick stack of papers in her lap. She peeked over the top rim of her reading glasses and watched the sheer curtains that hung in front of the french doors flutter in the breeze. She pretended to read for another minute before saying softly, “I know you’re there. You might as well come in.”
The curtains parted and he stepped through, freshly showered in a clean suit and cape. Her traitorous heart squeezed.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to lurk. I saw your light on. I… But then I thought…”
He sounded so conflicted, so unsure of himself. She took off her reading glasses and placed them gently on the stack of papers sitting in her lap.
“Was it bad?” she asked softly, picking up the remote and clicking off the television.
He swallowed audibly and took a ragged breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Almost of its own volition, she reached a hand toward him, beckoning him. He was across the room in four strides, perching on the side of the bed, her hand resting on his arm. Their eyes locked and held. She knew exactly what he needed without him saying a word.
She nodded almost imperceptibly, and his lips were on hers. She gasped and he immediately deepened the kiss. Yes. Yes. Yes. Her thoughts were incoherent except that one word echoing incessantly.
Her hands moved to the back of his neck, holding him in place. He caressed her cheek with one hand, while the other shoved away the stack of papers. She scrambled to her knees, sending the remaining papers to the floor and pushed him away, off the edge of the bed.
He took a step back, confused momentarily. And then she made a gesture with her hand -- a quick, tight rotation of the wrist, and he knew exactly what she wanted. He spun quickly, out of the suit, and into the soft shorts and Midwest University t-shirt he must have been wearing before he left. His hair was tousled, but his glasses were nowhere in sight.
This was her Clark. Only hers.
He stepped forward and bent to kiss her again, and this time she wrapped her hands around his biceps, pulling him to her. They tumbled onto the bed, and he braced one arm on the mattress to keep from crashing into her. Their legs tangled as their mouths clasped and tongues explored. After a few delicious moments, he pulled his mouth from hers and started trailing hot kisses down her neck and over her shoulder. His free hand slid under her thin tank top, cupping her breast, rolling her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger. She tugged insistently at the back of his shirt and he finally pulled away long enough to strip it off and toss it carelessly across the room. He reached for her shirt while they were separated and she lifted her arms so he could slide it off gently.
Her hand slid over his shoulders and down his solid back while her eyes traveled the wide expanse of his chest, still as flawless and awe inspiring as the first time she saw it. It occurred to her for the first time that night to be self conscious. Her body, still fit and impressive in clothing, had changed over the past decade. Her stomach was crisscrossed with silvery stretch marks and the skin still sagged a little over the white puckered scar from her c-section. Her breasts were full, but not as perky as they had been once.
She stiffened for just a second before catching the look of absolute fire in Clark’s eyes. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he whispered, oblivious to her concern. His gaze swept her body one more time before landing on her eyes. They locked and he opened his mouth to speak and then reconsidered, putting it instead to better use.
Her heart raced as their kisses grew needy and desperate. It had been so long. She tried to calculate how long. Nearly a year now, since the last time he’d shown up like this on her balcony, hurting and in need of comfort only she could offer him? He tore his mouth from hers and kissed his way over her breasts and down her stomach. Her fingers tangled in his hair, silently urging him on.
There were so many things they got wrong in their relationship, but this...this they had always gotten right. Not just the mechanics, but the emotions too. She never felt happier, more loved and cherished, more whole than when she was in his arms.
“God, Lois. I -” he bit off the end of that sentence just in time, careful not to break their unspoken rule about these nights. No promises you can’t keep. No declarations of love.
God, Lois. I love you. Love you. Love you, the unspoken words echoed in her ear.
And then he was tugging at the waistband of her shorts and she was lifting her hips, and all coherent thought was gone from her mind.
***
Lois woke early the next morning, one eye peeking open to look at the alarm clock and confirm it was actually morning and not still the middle of the night. She reached automatically for Clark and found the sheets cold. Her heart ached as she rolled to face his side of the bed. It would always be his side, she realized bittersweetly, not just “the other side”. And then she grinned when her gaze fell on his nightstand.
A vase of roses and a small white paper bag were perched there waiting for her. She sat up and scooted over, opening the bag to find a chocolate croissant she strongly suspected was not purchased in any local bakeries. She set it back down, and a small folded piece of paper tangled in the flowers caught her attention. She plucked the card from the flowers and read the words scrawled in Clark’s familiar handwriting. “You are magic. -C”
Heat rose to her cheeks as she remembered their second round of lovemaking the night before, just as passionate but less desperate, less frantic. Clark’s self-satisfied rumble of laughter as she clung to him panting, “How did you- What did you- You’re like...magic.”
She laid back in the bed, luxuriating in her memories of the previous night. And then her alarm sounded and reality interrupted. She showered quickly and got dressed for work. Last night changed nothing and life went on.
