The maid waved at her as she walked by, her face a horror mask of moving muscles surmounted by floating eyeballs.
Grimacing, Lisa tried to keep her eyes on the floor. It was a skins day, the one she most hated. Skeletons had a nice, clean look to them and were sometimes even a little amusing. Disembodied guts floating in midair at least had the virtue of being somewhat interesting. Naked was embarrassing, but at least people looked like people, and Lisa could just stare at their faces and try not to look any lower.
But on the days when she saw just a few millimeters below the surface, those were the ones that bothered her the most.
She’d seen part of a horror movie when she’d been smaller, before Aunt Lucy had come in and changed the channel. It had been about aliens taking over the world. When viewed through special glasses, they looked like skinless monsters. For weeks afterwards, Lisa had nightmares dreaming that everyone around her was an alien.
If she’d only known. Seeing people skinless had been the first way in which her powers had manifested themselves, and she’d spent an entire school day terrified to move, fearing that the monsters were coming for her. Seeing her mother like that had been almost more than she’d been able to bear, and she’d spent a sleepless night before her vision had returned.
When things had changed, and she began to see people nude, or as skeletons, she’d decided that she was just crazy. The world wasn’t filled with aliens out to get her. Instead, it was her own mind devouring itself. She’d begun to worry more about the implications of what she was seeing than the actual thing.
Now that she knew the truth, seeing people as skeletons didn’t bother her much anymore. Seeing them without their skins though…it was still disgusting. She hated the wet, slimy look of muscles moving.
Lisa ducked hastily back into her room. She wondered if she’d be able to get away with staying in, at least until her vision returned to normal, or at least something a little more acceptable.
Of course, she wouldn’t be able to read, or watch television, but perhaps she’d be able to close her eyes and listen to music. Things looked weird without the first few millimeters of their surface, but at least she didn’t stumble around blindly.
Lisa frowned as she stared at the walls. Instead of the more mature wallpaper she’d seen when she’d first come to stay here, she was seeing something else. The wall underneath was brightly colored, with balloons and circus animals. The whole thing was gaily painted, the sort of thing Lisa would expect to see in a nursery, although the colors were curiously faded.
There was a knock at the door, and Lisa started.
Her mother stuck her head in the room, and Lisa quickly looked at the floor.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” Lois asked.
“I’m not hungry,” Lisa said. “I’m feeling kind of tired.”
She hoped her mother would let her off the hook. It was the summertime and some of the rules tended to be relaxed then.
“Mr. Kent was hoping to show us more of the property.” Lisa could almost hear her mother frown. “Are you sick?”
Her mother stepped forward and lifted one skinless hand toward her forehead.
Lisa flinched.
Her mother stopped and said, “What’s going on?”
“I’m not feeling well,” Lisa said. In a way it was even true. She hated flinching away from her own mother, but there was something about seeing people without their skins that she just couldn’t overcome.
Lisa heard her mother’s heart begin to speed up. Before she could react, her mother was touching her forehead. Lisa sighed and closed her eyes.
She heard her father’s distinctive heartbeat approaching.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and was relieved to see that he at least still looked like himself, although his clothes looked oddly fuzzy.
“She says she’s not feeling well,” Lois said. “She hasn’t been sick in a long time.”
He frowned and stared at her intently.
“Just what’s wrong?” he asked carefully.
Lisa shrugged and looked back down at the floor. She didn’t want to admit the truth; it would hurt her mother to know just how horrifying the world was sometimes.
“Do you think her father could have given her something?” Lois asked.
“What?” Her father looked up at Lois.
“Maybe he has some kind of Kryptonian germ or something,” her mother said. Her voice sounded worried. “Something just the two of them would be vulnerable to.”
Clark shook his head. “He’s never been sick, not since he’d been on Earth.”
“Maybe it’s something worse, then…”
“Did this place used to be a nursery, Mr. Kent?” Lisa asked.
It was the only way Lisa could think of to tell him what was wrong while her mother was watching. Also, she really wanted to know.
“What makes you think so?” he asked.
“The wallpaper,” she said.
His eyes widened a bit, and he said, “I was married once. My wife hoped to have children.”
“You didn’t have any?” she asked. Part of her hoped he had. The idea of having a brother or a sister she didn’t know about appealed to her, even if they had to live with some other mother.
He shook his head. “We couldn’t. After a while, this place just got to be a reminder of what we couldn’t have.”
He’d wanted children. That was what he was telling her. He’d wanted children and hadn’t been able to have them.
Lisa felt oddly better. She’d wondered whether he wanted her, or whether he was doing everything just out of a sense of duty. She needed his help with her powers; she wasn’t like some human child he could just make payments on and send cards every birthday.
He was obliged to help her. It was the only decent thing to do. But whether he wanted her to be his daughter, that was a question that had been nagging her since the beginning.
At least now she knew that he’d wanted some kind of a child. Whether it was her or not remained to be seen.
“Are you having trouble with your vision?” he asked carefully.
Slowly she nodded.
“I’d wondered if something like that might be happening,” he said. “When Kal El first came to earth and developed his powers, he went through something just like it. We were able to help him.”
Lisa stared at him. “There’s something you can do?”
He nodded. Stepping back into the hallway, he said, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
“What’s wrong with your vision?” her mother asked sharply. The tone of her voice indicated that she wasn’t going to let things go.
Lisa stared at the floor.
“Look at me,” Lois said.
Eye contact had always been very important to her mother.
“I’d rather not,” Lisa said. She sighed. “I see through things.”
“Like what? Walls?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I see through other things…skin, bones…”
She could almost hear her mother frowning, then the hiss of indrawn breath. “So I look like…”
Lisa nodded. “Sometimes I can’t see what I’m doing because I’m looking through things.”
“How long has this been happening?” her mother’s voice had an odd, strangled quality to it.
“Six or seven months,” Lisa said.
Her mother was silent for a long moment. Lisa glanced up, but couldn’t read the expression on her mother’s skinless face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I was like Janice’s brother.” Lisa blinked, trying to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. She’d been afraid for so long of being sent away, of being crazy and never getting better. Her entire life had been a nightmare.
She was startled as she felt herself being gathered into her mother’s embrace. She blinked again as her mother held her tightly and said, “I’m so sorry.”
“I was afraid I’d have to go away,” Lisa said.
Janice’s brother had been forced to live at an institution for months, and even after he’d come home, he’d never been the same.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Lois said. “We’re a family. We stick together.”
Janice’s parent’s hadn’t wanted to send her brother away either, but they hadn’t seen any other way. It had been the best of many bad options for him.
If sending her away was the only way to keep Lisa safe, Lisa knew her mother would do it in a heartbeat. She’d hate it, but she’d do it.
That sort of strength was part of what Lisa admired about her mother, part of what helped her feel safe. Sometimes, though, it could be a little scary.
Lisa tightened her grip on her mother just as she heard the footsteps coming down the hall. A moment later she stepped away.
A glance told her that her mother was looking away, so she wiped her eyes quickly. Her mother had bee through enough without seeing Lisa cry.
Her father stepped into the room, and once again Lisa was relieved. He looked like himself still, although he was carrying something she couldn’t quite make out in his hand.
“When your father first came to the planet, we had to find a way to deal with his abilities.” He said. “This was one of the things we came up with.”
He reached out, and Lisa gasped as she felt a pair of frames slipping over her eyes. The world slid into focus, and she glanced at her mother.
Her mother’s face was as beautiful as ever, although her eyes looked a little red. The rest of the room was back to normal.
“I know the frames may not be right, but we’ll have a better looking set made up for you.”
Lisa slipped the glasses down her nose. The world slipped back into the ugliness she’d been dealing with all morning.
Through the lenses though, everything was crystal clear.
The implications struck her. No more staring at the lunch ladies in the nude. No more floating stomachs or skinless faces around the cafeteria at lunch. No more bumping into things because she was seeing straight through them.
The nightmare was over.
Despite herself, she burst into tears and lunged forward, hugging her father.
*************
It had been two years since the last time Lois had seen Lisa cry. In some ways, she’d wondered if it was a sign of distrust between them. Eventually she’d decided it was just her daughter trying to grow up faster than she’d had to.
Clark Kent looked vaguely embarrassed as Lisa hugged him and cried. After a moment though, his hand reached up and he began patting her on the shoulder. His expression of embarrassment changed into something Lois couldn’t interpret.
He’d told Lisa that he hadn’t been able to have children. Lois wondered what it was come face to face with the evidence of everything you’d never have. Would it highlight the emptiness in your own life?
What must it be like o be able to afford everything in the world except the one thing you could not have?
Lois couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Clark Kent, all alone here in this massive house. He’d lost almost everyone he’d ever loved, and yet here he’d given her daughter the one gift Lois never could have given her.
He’d won her daughter’s heart, not with fancy cars, big houses or cool toys. All it had taken was a pair of glasses.
Her daughter’s sobs were evidence of the long nightmare she’d been through.
“How?” she asked.
“Leaded glass,’ he said. “The vision doesn’t work through lead, so…”
He gave a shy smile, which was unlike the polished facial expressions she’d seen him with in the past. For the first time he seemed open and almost vulnerable.
As he held her daughter, Lois couldn’t help but love him a little too.
