Chapter 3
I can’t stay in the park anymore; I’m too conspicuously dressed for a night at the Kerth’s in a fashion twenty years ahead of now, and I’m getting a few odd stares. I walk away as briskly as I can in these stilettos, and stop when I get to the crosswalk.
Where should I go? I have a task but I can’t go for an undetermined amount of time in one dress. Wells had said I would be here a while and to find a place to stay. My credit card, expiring in twenty-three years, won’t work so how am I expected to stay anywhere? I have some cash, but not enough for a hotel room, not even for a night!
I curse as I stumble on the poorly maintained sidewalk with my inadequate shoes, when a thought strikes me.
Where did I go after the disastrous moment in the park? I’m sure I went back to my new job and I wasn’t home until late… though just in time to change into lingerie and wait for Superman to stop by.
Is that the moment I’m meant to disturb? I’d love to go the rest of my life without that memory.
Wells said Clark needed me; not Superman. And stopping the events of tonight from happening would be far quicker than Wells had implied. I sigh, and resign myself to walking further. I pass a coffee shop on the way and the enticing aroma beckons me inside.
“You can keep the change,” I instruct the cashier after ordering, still surprised at how inexpensive a coffee and a muffin is.
“Uh, lady. This isn’t money.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s fake.”
I stare in disbelief at the cashier as she hands the bill back to me. “I just got this bill!”
“Wherever you got it from gave you a fake bill.”
I stare as she takes another bill from the till and shows me. I’d forgotten the bills had all changed over the last decade, which was still a decade from where I am right now. They are legal tender, but not in 1994. I mumble an apology and leave, digging through my purse to see if I had any of the older notes that were still in circulation. As I inspect the bills, another thought occurs to me; my bank would be of no use either. The bank I had my card with won’t be formed in a merger for a few years yet.
I need to get into my old apartment somehow.
It takes much longer than I remember to walk back to my old apartment on Carter Avenue and once I get there I sit at the park bench across the street and wonder how I’m supposed to get inside. After a brief rest, I decide to take my chances and buzz a few apartments. I still sound the same as the younger me, and other than my long hair and a few lines around my eyes, I still look like me. Maybe not under close scrutiny and bright lights, but aging has been kind to me thus far.
I scroll down the names trying to remember if I had taken the time to get to know anyone in my building. I recognize the building super’s name and decide to try that one first.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Tracewski?” Perfect. “It’s Lois Lane, apartment 501. I’ve locked myself out.”
In lieu of an answer, the door clicks as it unlocks and I open the door, walking toward the Super’s apartment. I knock and hope it’s dingy enough in the corridor to hide that I’ve suddenly aged twenty years.
“Hello, dear. Mr. Tracewski isn’t home right now, but I’m sure we have a spare somewhere. Please, step in.”
I step into the apartment and close the door behind me. Thankfully, it’s even darker than the corridor and I’m hoping she won’t notice that I’m not the almost thirty year old woman that lives upstairs, grateful that at least I’ve been keeping on top of hiding my greys. It doesn’t take long before she comes back with a key.
“Here you go, dear. If you can bring it back shortly.”
I feel a wave of nostalgia at the trust this woman is showing me. It’s not something I’ve experienced much. I don’t know if it’s the times that have changed, or my complete lack of interest in connecting with others around me.
“Thank you,” I say softly as I open the door.
She pats my arm in a comforting manner as I turn to leave.
“Don’t worry about the end of the month. We’ll take care of everything.”
I look at her in confusion. “Take care of what?”
“Cleaning out the apartment.” As I hesitate, she continues. “We spoke to your new personal assistant, a lovely lady – what was her name? – Anyway, she told us about your new busy job and how you requested she take care of the arrangements.”
“Personal assistant?” I had never had an assistant before.
“Yes, Mrs. Cox. That’s her name. She was hired by Mr. Luthor, such a nice man. She mentioned you would be moving in with him.”
I’m barely listening to her, feeling my heart speed up in horror. I’d fled shortly after the aborted wedding on Henderson’s warning and had returned weeks later to find the apartment already leased to someone else as Lex had arranged for the lease to be broken. It had taken months of waiting before the police found my belongings in a storage unit and returned them to me. By that time, I’d paid a down payment on a small condo and had purchased new furniture and clothes so other than taking a few items that I cared about, a few books, photos, my Kerths and the box I kept a few documents in, everything else was donated or discarded. The images of Lex pawing through my belongings had haunted me enough to not want to keep anything that reminded me of him, and even though I’d purchased new things, they were a constant reminder of what I’d lost.
It strikes me that I haven’t even said yes to Lex’s proposal in this timeline yet and I feel anger bubbling up in response to his presumptiveness. I could fix this. Even if things don’t work out like Wells’ hinted at, at least I can spare this other Lois that pain.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tracewski, Mrs. Cox made that call in error. If you can, please disregard her request, and any further requests can only come from me.”
“Ok, dear. I’ll have my husband stop by when he gets home and get your signature.”
“Thanks,” I start, thinking quickly. “I’m just going to go up and grab my spare key. I’ll stop by before I leave and drop your key off.”
I rush upstairs, wanting to get out of the corridors before someone recognizes it’s not me and sigh in relief as the key opens the lock on the door. I close the door behind me, making sure it’s locked, I reluctantly turn around and face my old apartment.
It’s an eerie feeling, and I feel goosebumps on my skin as I scan the living room.
Everything here, unbeknownst to me at the time, is going to be packed up in a few short weeks and put in storage. When I see them next they’ll never feel like my belongings again.
I walk toward the couch and lightly trace my fingers over the fabric. I loved these couches, despite how uncomfortable they looked. They were the first luxurious item I’d purchased for my, then, new apartment, and after they came out of Lex’s storage, I couldn’t enjoy them anymore.
The television looks like a relic from the past, and I stare at the VHS player; I haven’t seen one of those in twenty years! I drift over to the bookshelves and thumb over my favourite titles. Most of my reading is done on a device now as it’s incredibly convenient when you don’t spend a lot of time at home, but I miss the feeling of holding a book.
Shaking myself out of my nostalgia, I wander over to the desk and rifle through the organized mess knowing I won’t find any money there, though I do find a spare set of keys for the building and apartment that I had long forgotten were there. Looking at the California key chain that is attached, I assume they were Lucy’s when she lived with me. I’d never had a reason to give anyone a spare set of keys since.
Walking away from the desk and tucking the keys into my flimsy purse, I head into the bedroom, ignoring the dated bedspread, which I’m sure was the style at the time, and chuckle at the bright red rotary phone at the bedside. What an antique! I don’t think I’ve used one of those since… Since I tossed all of my belongings after Lex stored everything.
Shoving another flood of memories to the back of my mind, I open the bottom drawer on the bedside table and remove the old chocolate tin I’d kept since childhood. It once held my childhood savings, before becoming a way to save money and hide it from roommates, or my sister, as I got older. It’s mostly small denominations with a few larger bills scattered throughout, and I’m surprised how big the stack is inside. I take only half, not remembering if I needed any of the money in the weeks leading up to the wedding. I doubt it, as Lex paid for everything, setting up accounts for my use at many of his preferred stores, but still, I’d rather not risk changing the timeline and the Lois of this time needing the cash and it’s not there.
After closing the drawer I turn to leave, the open closet catching my eye. There are full garbage bags sitting on the floor and I walk over to take a closer look. Opening them I realize they’re full of clothes! Over the months I’d been dating Lex, he’d insisted on purchasing clothes for me, or rather, encouraging me to purchase clothing from certain stores and he would have it all on his account. His reasoning had been the events we were going to, charity balls, fundraising dinners, many events his company either sponsored or donated to, had a certain expectation for dress code and it was his pleasure to purchase these outfits for me.
When I had been offered a job as a reporter at LNN, Lex had again encouraged me to update my wardrobe of work attire, calling it a celebratory gift. I’d eagerly perused the stores before my first day there and bought more than I ever had in one go before, and when arriving home, had proceeded to sort through my ‘old’ clothes. At some point over the next few weeks, I had taken them to a women’s charity and donated the bags.
I look down at my shimmering dress. I’m hardly a charity case but I need to change out of this dress and acquire some clothes I can wear for however long I’m stuck here. Digging through the bags I find a worn pair of jeans, a bright yellow t-shirt with the California state flag on it - a gift from Lucy - and an oversized sweater. This will work perfectly, I think as I shimmy out of the dress and put them on. Further investigation of the bags reveals a flimsy cloth duffel bag which I promptly stuff with several more items of clothing I can use, and a baseball cap I’d never worn. After putting the clothes I wasn’t able to fit in the duffel bag back in the garbage bags, I re-tie them, leaving them where I found them, and stash the dress at the back of the closet. I don’t want to get rid of it in the event I need it to return to my timeline as Wells wasn’t too clear on what he meant by ‘ceasing to exist,’ As a last thought, I grab a pair of sneakers. They weren’t in the bags for charity, but amongst several other pairs in the back of the closet. I can’t go around wearing heels and it would save me some money not having to buy a pair of functional shoes.
Leaving the bedroom, I take one more glance around the apartment to see if there’s anything I left out of place, or something I could use. My gaze falls onto the various framed photographs I have on the bookcase and I’m drawn toward them. Picking up the one of the Daily Planet team that was taken as a promo shot I find tears welling up. I haven’t seen Cat in person since she left the Planet, and I should have been seeing Jimmy and Perry tonight. What happened? Did Perry show up and find I’m not at the hotel or did Wells freeze time when I left?
My head starting to spin, I set the photo down and pick up another, feeling my heart lurch as I recognize it. Clark and I had done a series of photos to promote the ‘Lane and Kent’ investigative team. One of the outtakes I’d kept, purchased a frame for, and tucked behind other photos on the bookshelf. Jimmy had captured a perfect moment when Clark had finished saying something and I had turned to look at him, both of us smiling. It was one of the photos that had ‘disappeared’ while dating Dan and, looking at it now, I can understand why. There’s a tenderness in Clark’s expression that I had been oblivious to at the time, and once Clark was no longer in my life, had tried to ignore afterwards.
Staring at that picture steels my resolve. I will do as Wells asked and help Clark, while trying to find a way to direct us to a better future. I dither for a moment before putting the photo back on the shelf, gathering the items I was taking and opening the door. After a moment of hesitation, I take my phone out of my purse and turn it on, opening the camera app, taking a picture of the photograph before leaving the apartment.
On the way out, I drop off the key Mrs. Tracewski had lent to me, and head out into the sunshine.
****
After wandering around for a while, hoping to avoid the inevitable, I find myself in front of The Apollo. Not my first choice of places to stay, but out of my limited options, I’m hoping it will be the cleanest, and safest. Reluctantly, I enter and approach the reception, not anything close to the decorated receptions I am used to, but a hole in the wall with a closed security shutter and a bell. I ring the bell as per the instructions and hear movement behind the wall. The shutter rolls up loudly and a short man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt addresses me.
“We don’t do rooms by the hour.”
I’m glad to hear that, but insulted at the insinuation. “Excuse me?”
“Nightly or weekly rates only.”
If I had another choice I’d already be leaving. But I don’t, so I bite back a sharp retort and open my purse.
“I need a room without a kitchen,” I ask, remembering Clark’s room all those years ago.
“Twenty-five bucks a night.”
I had to school my expression to not show surprise. I’ve forgotten how prices have increased over the decades.
“And for the week?” I had only taken one fifty dollar bill from the tin and put it on the counter where he could see it.
“One-fifty.”
I add several more bills to the pile and watch the man’s eyes scanning each bill.
“Any monthly rates?”
“One-fifty a week is all we’ve got. You want to stay longer, that’s fine.”
I pause in adding bills to the pile, and the man finally looks up at me. I don’t have enough for a month at the moment and I’m hoping it won’t take that long. I had only asked in the event there was a bigger discount.
“Just the week?”
“Yes, please. If I need to stay longer, I’ll pay by the week.”
The man nodded as he grabbed the cash from the counter and counted it, before placing a key on the counter.
“Room 206. Up the stairs and to the right, or the elevator is down the hall.”
I take the key, mildly surprised. I’ve stayed in a few hotels over the last few decades that had old fashioned keys, as most have the electronic key cards now - at least in my timeline - and realize I’m going to have to acquire a new purse. The key with the bulky keychain will not fit in my purse designed for an evening out. As I walk away, I hear the security shutter roll slide closed, the man cursing as it jams partway down.
Thankfully, my room is only on the second floor as I don’t trust the maintenance record on the elevators. The Apollo had always been rundown, and though I couldn’t remember any elevator accidents, I wasn’t taking any chances. Eventually, the Apollo had been demolished to make way for a new ritzy neighbourhood in an effort to clean up some of the less desirable areas of Metropolis. It had worked, though, I muse as I walk up the stairs in the undecorated hallway with threadbare carpet. The glamorous new condos that had been built in the area had even tempted me at one point.
As I open the door to my room, I gag. The room smells terrible and I add air freshener to my mental shopping list, along with disinfectant. But right now, I’m exhausted. Wells had plucked me out of my timeline in the early evening, and I’d been deposited in my past around noon. It was now well into the evening again and I wanted to rest. After unpacking my small bag, I double check the lock and security chain on the door before heading to the shower. I need to sleep before picking up a few more supplies, then trying to figure out how to fix this timeline.
****
