Continuation of Open Arms Part 3
“Martha!” Jonathan screamed, limping into the kitchen, baby nestled in one arm. “I think Clark is broken!”
The poor kid cried so hard his face turned purple. His thick curls were plastered to his sweaty brow. The diaper was loaded and smelled worse than Grandpa Hirum’s socks. In the last twenty minutes, he had changed Clark seventeen times. Jonathan was tired, smelled like baby dung, and his leg was throbbing. Clark bawled as if he felt Daddy’s pain.
“Martha!” Jonathan called into the empty kitchen. He frowned. Martha was always in the kitchen. “Marty. Where are you? I need you!” He rocked an inconsolable Clark back and forth. His damn leg started to cramp. He limped to the fridge where a note was posted.
Out making deliveries. Don’t wait up.
Ps. Stop feeding Clark ice cream.
Oops. So maybe that was why Clark was pooping so much. The little guy was super strong. Jonathan didn’t think a little bit of ice cream would hurt. The sweets made Clark happy. When the baby was happy so was Daddy. He wasn’t supposed to be like other babies.
The baby burped and farted at the same time. Clark squirmed and whimpered weakly. Jonathan braced Clark on his shoulder and patted down his sweaty back. His tiny fists clenched Daddy’s collar. He scrunched up his face in misery.
“You’re not supposed to get sick, dude,” Jonathan talked over the crying. He was an alien. Alien babies were supposed to be stronger than regular babies. “This is one big ploy to force your Ma to come home early!” he screamed senselessly at the baby. “I’m not falling for this. Stop throwing shitty tantrums!”
Clark cried harder and his diaper got heavier. He hiccupped and his diaper exploded. Everywhere. Poop down Daddy’s throat, splatters on the ceiling and fan. The fan spun wildly and dropped gooey, brown muck onto Jonathan’s face which already resembled the inside of a diaper. Reflexively Jonathan dropped the baby. Clark slammed to the floor, kicking and screaming. His itty-bitty foot kicked a table leg. The table collapsed like toy building blocks. The noise scared Clark and he bawled even harder.
“Holy cow, I’m so sorry baby!” Jonathan dropped his crutch and slowly bent to pick Clark up. He winced and straightened his posture.
“Ba-bar!” Clark reached for Jonathan, eyes puffy and swollen. “BA-BAR!”
He didn’t want to leave Clark on the floor, but it was too painful to bend down. The stupid bullet tore through his knee calf. He was a smidge miffed that Martha left him alone with an infant. He sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. He had no room to be pissed. With Jonathan unable to run the farm, they needed the extra income to pay the medical bills.
Jonathan bottled the pain and crouched down to retrieve Clark from a puddle of piss and poop. He wheezed weakly as Jonathan held him. His crutch laid a stone throw away but it felt like miles. He won’t be able to reach it. It was taking all his willpower to stay upright. “I don’t know what to do,” Jonathan rocked Clark back and forth, who continued to cry. “I’m so sorry,” Jonathan winced. He never meant to hurt him.
He took stock of the kitchen. It looked like a bomb had erupted, a diaper bomb. He will need to clean that before Martha gets home. Clean. That’s it! He could bathe Clark. That should be easy enough. He limped to the downstairs bathroom by the entrance. He purposively built in a shower to easily rinse off after a grueling day in the field.
He discarded his dirty clothes in the sink, sat on the toilet with a groan, and grabbed the shower head. Hot water spurted out. Clark stilled and gaped at the shower head in wonder.
“Huh, you like that?” Jonathan asked, gently rinsing Clark’s hair under the water. He blinked up at the spewing water curiously. He lathered soap over Clark, kneading it into his flesh and wiping off the excess poop with a face cloth. The tiled floor turned brown from the waste. Jonathan aimed the shower head at the floor, forcing the ick down the drain.
Clark hated having the water off him and started to bawl. “It’s okay, son,” Jonathan hurriedly skirted Clark with more water. Clark’s mouth trembled and he leaned against Daddy’s bare chest. He felt a fierce protectiveness for the little guy. He wished he could freeze this moment and keep Clark safe in his arms forever. Before he knew it Clark would be grown. He will have questions Jonathan won’t have the answers to.
Jonathan massaged Clark’s damp back. He hiccupped and coughed up flem. Jonathan wiped his mouth clean. Clark scrunched his face in utter misery. “Oh, no,” Jonathan said, just as another wave of diarrhea hit Clark and he pooped on Jonathan’s lap. “So much for cleaning you,” Jonathan wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Well, you wanted a baby,” he said to himself as he wiped him and Clark clean. “You should come with a warning label kiddo.” Clark teared up in answer, screaming in pain. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to do. Your Ma should be home soon.” He hoped. At this rate, they’d have to take Clark to a doctor.
The lights flickered off and on. Jonathan swore. “I just changed these lightbulbs!” he lamented. He turned the water off and set Clark in the sink. He rummaged around the cramped bathroom. He found the spare diapers Martha kept inside the cabinet above the toilet. He limped back to Clark, his leg itching. He dressed his bottom, doubling up on the diapers. Hopefully, three diapers will be enough to hold in his explosive poop. He’d deal with the bottom rash that was sure to follow later.
Jonathan ignored the pain and forced himself to stay upright. He turned his back for a second to search for clothes. All of Clark’s clothes were soiled. He swore under his breath. This won’t do. It was in the middle of winter, and Clark couldn’t crawl around naked. He’d get even more sick. He was going to have to do laundry.
“Stay,” he commanded Clark. He gathered the dirty clothes and headed next door to load the washing machine. He was gone for maybe three minutes, but when he returned Clark was fully clothed and sucking on a toy. Jonathan took a double take when he realized Clark was wearing the off-white onesie they found him in. There was a red diamond symbol on his chest. It strangely looked right on him. He didn’t want to question his luck. He was just glad Clark was in clean clothes again.
“That’s supposed to be at Harry’s house,” he pried the orange crystal out of his mouth. “Where did you get that?” Clark wailed so Jonathan returned the crystal. He busied himself cleaning the bathroom, happy to have a moment of peace. Satisfied his handiwork would meet with Martha’s approval, he gathered Clark and returned to the den. He’d clean the kitchen later.
“Daddy needs a nap,” he collapsed onto the couch, nestling Clark over his chest. Clark whimpered and kicked, but he wasn’t as fussy as earlier. Part of Jonathan wanted to set Clark in the crib, but he knew if he did WWIII would happen. He fell asleep to the sound of Clark sobbing quietly.
Jonathan dreamed he was inside a crystalline building. The air smelled like snow and ash which was an interesting combination. He typed furiously on a keyboard, but it didn’t look anything like the bulky keyboard he was used to. It was sleek and almost transparent like a hologram.
“Good afternoon Jor-El.”
The screen behind him flashed on automatically. An icon of three circles flashed on the screen, almost resembling a biohazard sign. “Brainiac, what an unpleasant surprise,” Jonathan said, surprised at the authoritative voice that escaped his mouth.
“I’m awaiting your data,” the computer flashed green.
“Have you been spying on me with your satellites again?” Jonathan challenged. This was nuts. Computers couldn’t hold a conversation with humans. What kind of dream was this?
“The planetary council demands that I analyze your data as soon as you obtain it.”
“You know Brainiac, somewhere in those trillions of file clusters, there’s got to be one that says people don’t like to be spied on.”
“Then why did they create me?”
“A question I often ask myself,” Jonathan said, stunned at the animosity he felt toward an inanimate computer. “Transmission set. It’s feeding time.”
“Data received. Ending transmission.” the screen flashed off.
“You’re welcome, you glutton.”
“DADA!” there was an excited squeal and Clark crawled to his side. He rolled a canister to Daddy, giggling excitedly.
“Hey there, Kal, what do you got there?” Jonathan picked up his son. Clark showed him the canister proudly and unscrewed the lid. A round, feathery critter that looked like the cross between a chick and a fat mouse jumped out. “Oh. Great.” Jonathan watched the critter scamper across the metallic floor. Clark clapped his hands.
“Kal-El was helping me check the solar panels and discovered a new playmate.” a woman stepped into the light. She had the same blue-green eyes as Clark. She wore a long crimson dress accented by armor. Her black hair fell in waves down her back, almost as long as Rapunzel’s.
“I heard you had fun too,” she patted Clark on the back, who was gnawing at Daddy’s necklace.
“Oh, yes,” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “I encountered a very friendly shoggoth,” he grumbled. “All in all, I prefer your arms,” he leaned in and kissed the strange woman with Clark still secure in his arms.
There was a shudder and the earth shifted. Clark started to cry. Mother’s head shot toward the window. There was an icy, gorgeous landscape outside. “We’re moving.”
A large white wolf scampered to Jonathan at the sound of Clark crying. She whimpered and pawed at his legs. Jonathan set Clark next to the wolf. She licked the tears off his face. Clark smiled and hugged her big snout. Jonathan’s heart melted. He had never seen Clark stop crying so fast.
“What forsaken spot are we going to now?” the woman drew his attention away from the tender sight.
“Home, Lara.”
“Home?” Lara gasped.
“That’s right. What’s the matter, five months in this deep freeze not enough for you?”
“No,” she sighed and turned away from her husband to study the rolling white landscape. “It’s just, once we’re back, you’ll start going over the data,” she hugged herself and shuddered. “What if you’re right?”
“We can deal with it. Trust me,” Jonathan kissed the nape of her neck, feeling like such a cheater. There was only one woman he loved. What did this dream mean? “The truth can only help.”
“Oh, Jor-El,” she sighed. “Such a beautiful world, even up here. It’s hard to believe it can all come to an end.”
“You know what we must do if it does.”
“Don’t,” she closed her eyes, tears streaking down her pale face. “You know how long I waited to hold him,” she blinked the tears away. “Everything we had to go through to have a child, free from the constraints of the Council. It will all be for nothing.”
“It won’t be for nothing,” Jonathan cupped Lara’s face. “We made a miracle you and I,” he kissed her temple. “Through Kal-El, our people will survive.”
“And what about Kal?” Lara asked. “He will be alone.”
“He will never be alone,” Jonathan reassured her. “We will always be with him.”
There was another tremor and Clark started to cry. Lara picked him up and soothed him. “Kal, Kal,” she sang to the baby. “You fill my life with light —small and bright my heart soars with each breath,” she sang a lullaby to him.
The sound of crying woke Jonathan up. He lay there confused, mulling over the strange dream. Had that been real? He wasn’t one to have fitful dreams. But that dream stuck with him. He remembered the heat from the futuristic computer, and Lara’s soft, melodic voice. Surely it was just his imagination going crazy after the stressful day.
Clark kicked and wailed. His diaper was heavy again. The stench of poop was more effective than an alarm clock. “Last time I feed ice cream to you,” Jonathan limped back to the bathroom, Clark in tow. At least this time his clothes weren’t soiled. He unzipped the onesie and wiped his tender bottom. He fixed three diapers onto Clark. As he was zipping him up Jonathan caught his reflection in the mirror. Only his reflection didn’t stare back at him.
An exotic woman with thick wavy black hair looked out from the mirror. She was the same woman from his dream. “I’m losing it,” Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. Sure enough when he looked at the mirror again only his reflection stared back. There was no strange lady in the house with him.
Clark started to cough so Jonathan pat his back. There was no improvement. Clark got paler as the seconds ticked by. He needed help. ASAP. Calling Martha was out of the question. She would be busy delivering baked goods. Plus Jonathan didn’t want her to think he was incompetent. He called his brother. There was no answer. Figures, he’s probably on a stakeout. He called his sister-in-law next. She answered after the third ring.
“Jill Eileen Kent!” she screamed. “That’s not a toy. Drop it.”
“Is this a bad time?” Jonathan asked.
“It’s always a bad time,” Abigail said. “What do you need?” she snapped.
“Clark has diarrhea,” he said. “Martha won’t be back for another four hours. What do I do?”
“Put him in the sink and keep him hydrated,” she said candidly.
“Mama look a scorpion!!”
Abigail screamed and they got disconnected. As advice goes it was pretty sound. He made room for Clark in the kitchen sink and undressed him so he was only in his diaper. Clark hated the sink and announced his displeasure loudly.
“Come on, son,” Jonathan wiped at his sweaty brow. “Help me out a little bit here. Soon you’ll be too heavy for me to carry.” It was then he realized something odd. The kitchen was spotless. There was no evidence of the earlier eruption. Even the ceiling, where poop clung to the fan, was squeaky clean. “Okay, that’s freaky.”
He ignored Clark's crying and wandered to look outside the window. The truck was still missing, so Martha hadn’t returned. Then who cleaned the kitchen? He faced Clark. His face was red from crying and he squeezed tightly on the faucet. It bent like play dough in his grip.
“No!” Jonathan grabbed Clark’s hand. “That costs money!”
He gave Clark a fork to rearrange. It amused him for five minutes and then he threw the metallic ball onto the floor. The deformed fork rolled under the kitchen table. He blinked at Jonathan expectantly, his lower lip wobbling. Jonathan sighed and gave Clark a spoon. They do say babies are expensive. Besides, who needs utensils when you can eat like cavemen?
Clark made a face Jonathan had learned to fear. It was about to get ugly. “Don’t cry,” Jonathan held his hand. “When you’re weary, feeling small,” Jonathan started to sing. He was no opera singer, but music seemed to Keep Clark calm.
“When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all . . . ALL,” Clark smiled and reached up for him. Jonathan dutifully lifted Clark out of the sink. “I’m on your side kiddo – and when times get rough and friends just can’t be found,” he spun Clark midair and caught him. “Like a bridge over troubled water!”
Clark gradually fell into a fitful sleep. Jonathan kissed his brow and laid him to rest in the crib. “Sweet dreams, son.” He combed his fingers through Clark’s thick hair. “Get well soon.”
Jonathan gazed into the mirror on the wall, his heart jumping in his throat. The exotic woman was back. She smiled sadly, watching Clark as he slept. She met Jonathan’s eyes with glassy eyes. “Nah Kluv,” she said. “Thank you.” She vanished within the next blink, leaving Jonathan wondering if he had imagined the whole exchange.
