PREVIOUSLY...
“And you’re still a schmuck.”
He forced himself not to smile. “I know.”
She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter, although it was so quickly turned to a cough that he was never sure.
She stepped further into the room, allowing him to finally see the lines of her face. “And the bedroom belongs to me. Under no circumstances are you to set foot inside without my direct authorization.”
He nodded once again.
“Good! Now that that’s settled, I’m going to go have a shower. The dirty dishes are sitting outside on the picnic table. I assume you’ll be taking care of them.”
And with that, Lois Lane moved into the cabin.
AND NOW - PART 5
“Okay, so what’s all this?” Lois asked as Clark proceeded to set two boxes containing paper on the kitchen table.
“This box has articles you’ve written at the Planet.”
“And this one?”
“The notes you made when writing the articles.” Clark didn’t add that he’d had to sneak into the Daily Planet and break into her computer to get those - although he had to admit, he did like her current password system. ‘Clarklovesme’, followed by ‘Hereallydoes’ and finally, for the highest level of security, ‘Andiloveclark.’ Gone were the days of using ‘Superman’ for her password. “But this is just the beginning. The remainder of the articles and your notes are in a storage shed out back. I’ll bring them in when you’re ready for them. I started with the most recent ones, but I could bring in the older ones first if you prefer.”
“Is there a story in here about us being stranded on a tropical island?” Lois asked.
“You remember that?”
Lois shrugged.
“Uhh... yeah,” he flipped through the articles before pulling out the one she was looking for.
Lois’ eyebrows rose. “Spenser Spenser’s Headless Plot Decapitated,” she read aloud. She glanced at Clark. “Are you serious?”
Clark nodded.
After giving him a disbelieving look, she took the proffered paper and, without acknowledging him further, began to read.
Clark turned away, walking into the kitchen where he removed the chicken breasts from the icebox began to coat them with the cumin, pepper, rosemary and honey mix he’d prepared earlier. From his reading, cumin, pepper and rosemary, mixed with honey were good for amnesia.
It hurt to realize that she was merely tolerating him because she had no choice in the matter. But at least it was a beginning. She’d already demanded, and read the diaries he’d provided to her and although he had heard various snorts of disgust and periodic laughter coming from her while reading them, she’d not seen fit to inform him if they had done anything to jog her memories.
Instead, when she’d finished that task, she’d insisted on knowing what was next. It was then that he had produced the boxes containing both her stories and her notes on the various stories.
As he puttered around the kitchen, making supper, he glanced periodically at her. She seemed to be hard at work. But then, that was Lois. She threw herself into any task she did with all of her being. And regardless of her dislike of him, and her determination to get back to Max, she also seemed bound to do what it took to get her memory back.
Still, she was studiously refusing to acknowledge his presence any more than absolutely necessary to accomplish her task, but he could often hear her heart rate speed up when she became aware that he was watching her.
He sighed, concentrating on his task once again. In addition to providing her with information to peruse, he had a few other ideas resulting from his reading that he still hadn’t shared with her. As he waited for the meal to cook, he pulled out a bag and put some fruit on a dish and set it over on the table next to Lois.
“What’s this?” Lois asked, looking up at him.
“Dates.”
Lois’ eyebrows rose. “What? Am I a big date fan or something?”
“No. It’s just that dates are rich in phosphorus which helps invigorate brain cells.”
Lois eyed the dates suspiciously for a moment before looking back at Clark. “And apples, milk and croissants?”
Clark shrugged sheepishly. “Well, there is nothing particularly helpful to the brain in croissants. Or at least, not that I know of.”
“And the other things?”
“Apples contain Vitamin B1 and Potassium in addition to Phosphorus. Potassium helps in the synthesis of glutamic acid which controls wear and tear of nerve cells. Eating an apple a day with some honey and milk is thought to be beneficial in the treatment of memory loss.”
Lois clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and Clark waited nervously to hear her response. Knowing Lois, she could decide not to eat anything else he made if she thought he was handling her.
“So what other treatments do you have in mind for me, Kent?” she asked sarcastically. “I assume you know you aren’t a doctor. Or is this something else I’ve managed to forget?”
“I’m not a doctor, Lois. But it’s not as if eating healthy is a bad thing - even if it doesn’t do anything to really help.”
She studied him for a moment more. “So anything else I should know about? Any voodoo you plan to do or maybe you could do acupuncture on me later.”
“Well, you know, Lois, acupuncture has actually begun to be recognized by...”
“Kent!” she said, cutting him off.
“Okay, well, I was hoping to convince you to take ginkgo.”
“And what exactly is ginkgo?”
“It’s a seed used in some Chinese medicines.”
“Kent!” she said warningly.
“Look, before you reject the idea, you should know that ginkgo has been the subject of extensive clinical research in Europe. Apparently, it helps dilate blood vessels and improve circulation - which can help with memory loss.”
Without giving him her answer, she continued. “What else?”
“Regular exercise. Maybe some memory exercises as well to exercise your brain.”
“And...?”
“Meditation.”
Her eyebrows rose but she didn’t respond. “Anything else?”
He shrugged. “That’s about it, other than getting regular sleep.”
Without responding, she went back to studying the story in front of her. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare push her until she’d had time to consider his suggestions. Not right now. Not when refusing to do something might be a mere knee-jerk reaction to him suggesting it.
Still, he kept his head down, refusing to let her see any hint of a grin when, after looking at him, she reached over and picked up one of the dates and took a wary bite.
* * * * * * * * *
Lois sat at the picnic table and looked up at the stars. In the cabin, she knew Kent was still working on cleaning up after supper. That thought brought a wry grin to her face. Ever since she’d moved into the cabin five days ago, he’d been bending over backwards to make sure she was comfortable. All she had to do was say that she wished she had something, and somehow he always found a way to make it appear.
In fact, earlier today, she’d come out of the bathroom and announced that she needed tampons. Not that she really had, of course. Her period was still weeks away. Hopefully she would be back with Max and on her way to France with him long before then.
She was distracted momentarily by thoughts of Max. She loved only him. And he loved her. Her eyebrows crinkled together in confusion for a moment. How did she know that he loved her? She couldn’t actually remember him ever saying the words. So why... No. He loved her. She knew that the same way she knew that Clark meant nothing to her and that she loved only Max. She just did.
She shook her head. Thoughts of Max weren’t going to get her off this island. On the other hand, annoying Clark might. And she had figured that telling him she needed tampons might annoy him. She’d been quite surprised when he’d simply disappeared out to the supply shed and returned a few minutes later with a box. Not her brand, but it had still been impressive. Apparently, he’d thought of everything.
It might be childish of her to make what were, at least in her mind, sometimes impossible demands, but then he’d kidnapped her! And since she hadn’t yet found a way to get off this island, these little ‘demands’ were the only way she could maintain at least a little bit of her power.
Damn.
Who was she kidding? He was giving into her demands because they made her feel more in control. But until she discovered his means of transportation off the island, he was the one really in control.
She looked up at the stars and sighed, not even bothering to turn when she heard the cabin door open.
“I thought you might want this,” Kent said, setting a steaming cup of liquid on the table in front of her.
“What is it this time?” she asked, eyeing the liquid skeptically.
“Herbal tea made with rosemary. I put a bit of honey in it for sweetener.”
“And rosemary does...?” she asked, not because she particularly cared. She wouldn’t know if he was telling the truth anyway. But she still asked because his answers tended to amuse her.
“It was used in ancient Rome in order to, as they put it, ‘destroy the evils from the mind and ensure that the memory no longer played tricks.’”
“Uhh... I should have guessed. Couldn’t have Nero forgetting which notes to play on his fiddle while Rome burned.”
“Or which Christians to throw to the lions,” he added.
She picked up the cup and took a sip. She knew he was waiting for that. Once she did, he turned and reentered the cabin.
And actually, this tea wasn’t bad. Certainly a lot better than that stuff made of sage the previous night.
She suspected that all of these herbal remedies Clark was giving her had little effect on her regaining her memory. What she really needed was to get back to Max. He was the expert. He could help her regain her memory far better than these herbal concoctions Clark insisted on administering. They weren’t helping at all. Well, unless one counted the occasional memory flash she had related to food. For example, the first time he’d given her herbal tea, she’d had a flash of storming into his apartment. She had been furious with him about something, although try as she might, she couldn’t quite remember what. Although the words coming out of her mouth had certainly attested to her anger.
‘You rotten, back stabbing piece of slime. You know, some people might be fooled by that innocent, boyish exterior, but not me, not anymore.’
He’d been standing there holding a cup of tea. And instead of responding, she could recall him saying, ‘Tea, Lois? It’s a calming herbal blend. I learned it from a medicine man in Fiji. The secret is the fresh mint.’
And this was the man she was supposedly engaged to marry? A rotten, back stabbing piece of slime with a herbal tea obsession?
The only real argument they’d had since she’d moved into the cabin concerned her coffee. After that second morning, when he’d used it to bribe her into eating her breakfast, he’d refused to give her coffee. According to Kent, coffee was to be avoided when one had amnesia. She’d pointed out, very logically she thought, that it wouldn’t matter if she had amnesia if she completely lost her mind. He had not been persuaded. She’d had to resort to a strike, refusing to do or eat anything before he’d been willing to compromise. Now she was allowed one coffee in the morning in exchange for which she would drink herbal teas for the rest of the day.
Still, the food had been good. Actually, if she was completely honest, it had been remarkable. So even if he seemed to insist on cooking with ingredients that supposedly helped with memory loss, who really cared? And she had to admit that watching him cook had seemed familiar - as did the delicious aromas he managed to create. In fact, that was another memory she’d gotten over the past few days - a memory of him cooking and her watching.
‘We’ll be like this forever,’ she had apparently told him - although, as yet she couldn’t imagine why. He was, after all, the single most annoying person she had ever met. ‘You cooking; me watching.’ Probably she’d just offered him a job as her full-time cook. She could see that might be a good thing.
‘You’re never cooking?’ he’d asked.
‘It’s not really something I do.’
‘I thought it was lack of time.’
‘No. No. Lack of talent.’
So although she wasn’t sure the food had any particular medicinal value, when it was as good as Kent seemed able to make it, she wasn’t particularly complaining.
The mind exercises, on the other hand, had at times been infuriating. That first evening, for example, when he’d brought out the cabinet drawer containing a number of cooking utensils and told her to study it for a minute before, with her back turned, removing two of the items and telling her to identify what was missing... How could he not understand that her failure to do so had nothing to do with her memory and everything to do with the fact that they were kitchen utensils! She didn’t recognize most of them in the first place - so how was she to know what was missing?
The cross-word puzzles had been a little bit more her style. And coming up with words which she knew weren’t real, and would frustrate Kent to no end, well, that was simply fun. In fact, she was pretty sure she had done that before. At least, she seemed to recall an argument they’d had about some word. Chumpy, maybe? If a person was a chump, he was, therefore, chumpy.
And the jumbo puzzles he produced from old copies of the Daily Planet were certainly challenging. Although she had thought the jumbo puzzle had been replaced to make room for some touchy-feely column by some pop psychologist or something.
Of course, the frustration she felt at having to give up time to research her life in order to do mind exercises was nothing compared to the waste of time that was meditating. But Kent could be so annoyingly insistent. The man never yelled. Never carried on. He would just continue to peck away at her until it was less annoying to give in. To sit in a quiet place with no distractions. To find a comfortable position - although how anyone could think the lotus position was in the least bit comfortable was beyond her. And then to mediate, concentrate on her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. To imagine herself sitting in warm sunlight or bathed in still, clear water. Inhale. Exhale. To feel her body sinking deeper into the chair, her muscles relaxing. Inhale. Exhale.
She remembered clearly the first time he’d suggested it.
‘Come on, Lois. It will clear your mind, allow you to concentrate better.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my concentration,’ she’d spouted back, one of her hands curling into a fist as an overwhelming urge to hit him had welled up inside her.
‘It will help you relax.’
‘I am relaxed,’ she’d snapped back.
‘It only takes three to ten minutes,’ he’d insisted. ‘Although, in your case, I suggest we start with three.’
‘Are you saying you don’t think I can do ten minutes, Kent?’
‘Well...’
‘Fine!’ She’d slammed the article she’d been reading down on the table. ‘Okay, let’s get this over with! You’ve got ten minutes. Make me relax!’
The amused grin he’d given her in response had been infuriating.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Please! She did that all the time without even having to think about it.
The physical exercise, on the other hand, was something she did find useful. Not that stupid exercise regime Clark had originally come up with. That had been scrapped on the first day. They’d been in the cabin doing jumping jacks. And... she still wasn’t entirely certain what had happened. But she’d suddenly been over-come with a powerful feeling, as if she were in jeopardy. She’d found herself subconsciously speeding up her pace, as though she thought a bomb might go off if she tried to stop.
It was then that she’d announced that his exercise regime was not going to work.
‘You need to exercise, Lois. It helps keep the mind sharp.’
‘I know that, Kent. But this isn’t exercise. It’s torture.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
She’d thought for a moment before sitting down and putting on her sneakers.
‘Where are we going?’ Clark asked, pulling on his runners as well.
‘To exercise,’ she responded, heading out the door at a jog.
He’d followed, falling into pace beside her. And since then, that was how they’d started every morning. He let her choose the path and set the pace, and then would jog next to her. They never talked during these times. And he never seemed to have any problems keeping up. In fact, on one occasion, she’d actually increased the pace, hoping to throw him off. But he never seemed out of breath, never even seemed to sweat. Obviously, he was in much better shape than she had thought.
In addition to the jogging, she’d come up with the idea of sparring with him. He’d been skeptical at first, until she managed to throw him over her shoulder. Then, laying on the ground on his back, looking up at her, he’d commented that he could see that this might have some value.
And he’d been a good sparring partner. Since that initial throw, catching him off guard had been much more difficult. But sparring had come naturally to her. She seemed to know the moves, the techniques. And it was a great way to get her frustrations out on him. It helped her relax much more than those stupid meditation techniques. She wanted to ask him if she knew some form of martial arts, but she hadn’t.
That was one of the problems, she realized. She never asked him. Never let him know when she had a memory flash. She wasn’t entirely sure why. But it seemed too personal, somehow, to share with him. But the problem was that because she never asked, she wasn’t able to get his feedback, maybe put these memories into perspective.
And as a result, she was not getting her memory back quickly enough to satisfy her. At this rate, it could take years before she had her memory back. What she really needed was Max. He could help her so much more than Kent was. Still...
In some senses, wasn’t she shooting herself in the foot by holding back when she had a flash of memory, not allowing him to help her put the memory into perspective?
On the other hand, could she trust that he would really do so honestly? But then, did she really need him to do so honestly?
At that thought, Lois sat up a little straighter. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. She didn’t really need to get her memory back. Oh, she wanted to get her memory back. In fact, it was currently driving her nuts that she couldn’t remember. But since Max was the one who could truly help her, she needed to find her way back to him. And that meant, she only needed Kent to think she had her memory back to get him to take her off this island, and back to the one person who could help her. The man who had thrown her a lifeline when she hadn’t even remembered her own name. The only man she loved.
A slow smile began to curl at the corners of her mouth as a plan began to take shape. Operation Fool Kent was about to go into effect.
TO BE CONTINUED...
ML
