Hey, y'all! Here's a bit of fluff I wrote as a stress relief from med school studying. The muse wouldn't let me study until I'd written this! Please let me know what you think!
~~
I've always been told that things come in threes. I’m not sure if I believe that. A year and a half ago, I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
I should have known before I tried on the dress. Hell, I should have known when I tried on the dress! Even now, I grimace at the thought of having put on that monstrosity that they called a wedding gown. It started out when Lex brought the tailor in one morning and announced that he was going to have the dress made by one of the top designers in Paris. All he needed were my measurements.
And I didn't balk. Lois Lane, the mad dog of Metropolis, didn't balk when she wasn't given the choice to choose her own wedding dress! I should have been ashamed. I should have yelled and screamed. I should have told Lex that I wanted at least my mother's opinion on the dress.
But I didn't. Why didn't I?
Looking back, I think I was scared, even then, of Lex's power. Oh, sure, I rationalized it away, trying to convince myself that it was his kindness and consideration. He was just trying to make the whole wedding less stressful for me, especially after the Planet went under, and I lost everyone that had mattered so much to me. That was it; he was trying to help me.
No. I didn't realize the extent of the power and control that he needed, wanted, obsessed about. I didn't realize that I was included in that category. I convinced myself that he loved me, and I didn't question what I felt. Even then he had already started to break me.
But I finally figured it out on my wedding day. Staring at the still-packaged dress. With my mother standing before me. The pressure to conform, to follow through, was overpowering.
I remember it so well; I had had my makeup done by one of the top professionals in the world (courtesy of Lex, of course), and I slipped into my undergarments. I sat a moment on a velvet chaise lounge, facing the dress on the hanger in front of me, to think, to choose.
It was a battle of wills. The dress won.
"Lois Luthor. Lois Lane Luthor."
I felt weak, felt resigned. Mostly, I felt empty. Which was exactly what I had become. I had become a showpiece for Lex at the cost of my soul. I wasn't Lois Lane anymore. And I knew I didn't like Lois Luthor; she didn't have the guts to go head-first into danger for a story; she didn't have a juvenile (and yes, totally unrealistic) crush on the world's best-looking superhero. She wasn't someone with whom I would have been friends.
That's the moment where it all changed.
"Lois Lane . . . Kent."
Suddenly, I became myself again, if only for a moment. It had been the moment I had needed for months. An epiphany that didn't change me, but made me whole again.
But I lost myself again just as quickly as the organist began to play.
~~
I should probably state this up front: I suck at planning weddings. Well, maybe I only suck at planning my own. Regardless, nothing seems to be going right. Clark and I can't seem to find the time to plan everything, what with saving the world and all. Mother and the wedding planner that my father hired have taken over, and I suppose that should bother me, especially after the disaster with Lex. But it doesn't. And I've realized why: The only thing that matters is that I get to be with Clark for the rest of my life. And it's not scary, amazingly enough! I finally understand that love doesn't control; love liberates. Clark taught me that.
Oh, but there are things that must be done between stories and saving lives. So Mother and I arrive at the store to pick out a dress. I try to convince Mother that I'd be fine getting married in a paper sack, as long as I get Clark at the end of the day. But even I don't buy it. As much as it might have sickened me to admit it, I want to look good for Clark.
So we enter the dressing room, Mom and I, and confront the saleswoman loaded down with what seems like hundreds of yards of fabric, sequins, and lace. I'm given choices, and we narrow the pile down to a reasonable few. The woman leaves to allow me to dress. Might have had to do with me snapping at her, saying I can dress myself. Obviously, my pitbullish tendencies aren't obedient.
"Mother," I say, "can you zip the back for me?"
She stands up. "Lois, do you remember the last time we were together with you in a wedding dress?"
I pause, not sure where this is going. "Yeah." I fiddle with the lace at the top of the dress.
"It's not going to end up like it did last time, is it?"
"No, Mom. It's not." I turn towards her and see her unshed tears. Despite decades of masking my emotions, the internal faucets open.
"You look beautiful, dear. Clark's a lucky man." She gives me a smile, a real smile, for once. And I can't help but hug her because I realize something: this will be the only time we pick out a wedding dress together. "He'd better take really good care of you; otherwise, I'll have to kill him." She laughs with a hint of a sniffle.
"I'd love to see that, Mom. Really."
~~
So maybe this thing about threes is right. First Lex, then Superman, now Clark. No, wait, that's not right. It's Superman, Clark, and the person he is with me, that's the two personas put together.
Or - a thought - Clark, me, and our child, when the time comes.
Past, present, and future. And we have all three together.
