Good Night, Lois – Happy Thoughts
I knock at the open door before I enter my landlady's living room. “I'm about to head out, Mrs. Summers. I left a pasta dish in the fridge for you to heat up, the second compartment from below on your right hand side. Is there anything else you need?”
“Oh, no, thank you,” the elderly lady replies. “You're spoiling me. One day you're going to have to tell me where you learned to cook like that.”
I better not.
Mrs. Summers would probably suffer a heart attack if she knew about the life I led before she offered me a spare room in exchange for doing some chores. That's not to say it was all bad. I met a few kind souls along the way, like Mrs. Summers.
“I should get going then. Just leave the dishes for me. I'll do them when I return.”
She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “You're working too much.”
I laugh. “The dishes won't take more than ten minutes.”
Her almost blind eyes fill with concern. “Are you sure you want to spend the night out on that – how did you call it – investigation? Which basically means sitting around all night? You're juggling two jobs at least, maybe even three. You're wearing yourself out.”
Of course she wouldn't understand how important this is for me. “I'm writing an article for the college paper.”
She purses her lips. “Just don’t forget to sleep, Clark.”
“I won’t. See you in the morning."
She waves as I leave her behind. With a long, deep breath I glance at my watch. I still have plenty of time before anything interesting might happen at the bar.
As I put on my jacket, the phone rings.
“Don't bother, Mrs. Summers. I'll get the call.” It rings another time before I pick up the phone. “Summers residence. This is Clark Kent speaking.”
“Clark?” It's Lois. The urgency to her tone is bordering on panic. “Please, you must help me. Mom won't wake up!”
I tighten my grip on the receiver. “Where is she?”
My breath catches in my chest. Flashes of my own mother dance before my mind's eyes. I still remember that last breath she ever took. The crash hadn't killed her instantly, like it had Dad. She'd still been awake when I got to them, though she must have known she wasn't going to make it. That's when she told me about the space ship they'd buried in the field, only moments before she passed away.
I try to suck in another breath as I push back the overwhelming memories.
Not Lois, too, dear Lord, please don't let her suffer through this.
“On the sofa,” Lois whispers. “Oh, Clark, please help us. Daddy's at work, but he's not taking my call. The lady at the front desk said he has the night off.”
“Be right there,” I manage past the lump in my throat.
I hang up and seconds later I'm in the air, speeding towards Metropolis faster than I’ve ever gone before. The lights on the horizon soon grow into a city stretching as far as the eye can see. I do just a quick check before I land hard in their backyard.
Ellen Lane is on the sofa, fast asleep with Lois sitting next to her. The steady beat of Ellen's heart is like music to my ears. On the table sits a bottle of strong liquor.
She's not dying, she's drunk.
Which is a relief, kind of.
I knock on the window to get Lois' attention. As she turns toward me, the creases of worry on her forehead smooth out a bit. She comes running to let me in.
“Clark!”
“Hey, kiddo.” I pull her into an embrace. “I'm sure your Mommy will wake up in a few hours. She's had too much to drink.” I point toward the empty bottle on the table and the glass next to it. “She's just sleeping for the moment.”
“You sure?” Her voice cracks with the tears she's only barely keeping at bay.
“Yes, I'm sure, sweety. See, she's breathing just fine.”
As I rub Lois' back to soothe her, I don't quite know whether I'm disgusted with Ellen's behavior or if I just feel sorry for her. It's quite obvious Sam is cheating on her again.
“Come on, it's well past your bedtime. I read you a story and then I'll stay and keep an eye on your Mommy until she wakes up.”
I guess I have to postpone my investigation another night. Lois is more important right now.
Reluctant to leave her mother's side, Lois follows me, frequently glancing over her shoulder as we go to her room.
“Are you really going to stay?” she asks roughly.
Lois looks at me with that hopeful, yet somewhat uncertain expression of someone who's heard too many empty promises. At her young age she's already lost her trust in people. I'm not sure I'm the right person to re-establish that trust.
But someone has to.
“I'll be right here at your side for as long as you need me.”
“Good.” She nods and her tightly wound muscles relax.
As Lois rushes into her room and jumps into her bed, she's once more the carefree kid that I love so much.
I sit down on her bed side. “What's it going to be tonight? Alice in Wonderland? Or…” I wink at her. “Peter Pan?”
She chews on her bottom lip as she weighs the options. For a moment, we just sit there, Lois perusing her book shelf and me waiting for her decision.
“Clark?”
“Mhh?”
“Do you need happy thoughts to fly?”
I look at her. “Not particularly, why?”
She shrugs. “I was just curious. Because if you did, I'd have asked you how you do it. I mean, you lost your parents and still you manage to smile so much. It would have meant you were still happy enough to fly.”
Her eyes fill with fresh tears and she stares into her lap as she blinks them back.
Her sadness tears right through me. “Some days are better, some days are worse. I try to focus on the good stuff that's happening.”
A faint smile plays around her lips. “Like me?”
I grin at her. “Yeah, definitely like you.”
Honestly, I don't want to know how empty my life would be if I couldn't occasionally read her a story and say ‘Good Night, Lois’.
Sometimes I think I need her just a much as she needs me.
Just how long is she going to want me here?
“I think I want to hear Peter Pan.”
***
Last edited by bakasi; 12/06/24 01:46 AM.
Great structure here! Such a funny moment for the reader!
