Chapter 11: A Memory from the Past came Slowly Stealing . . .
A memory from the past came slowly stealing . . .
--“I Can’t Help It”
****
When I entered the newsroom, I found Lois arguing with Mr. White. Knowing I might as well dive right in, I moved closer to them to watch and listen.
The Chief Editor shook his head vehemently. “I’m telling you, honey, this ‘Black Speck’ has to be some kind of hoax.”
“And I’m telling you, Perry, he’s real. I flew with the man. The scientists at EPRAD may not be sure exactly what happened, but I know . . . . He broke into the transport vehicle, swallowed the bomb planted on board, flew me away from the transport, and then welded the doors back together before flying off.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would he take you off the colonist transport and dump you elsewhere without any explanation?”
“Maybe the man thought that I had planted the bomb. How am I supposed to know what his motives are?”
“Which brings me to another question,” Perry White said, lifting a finger. “How do you even know it was a man?”
Lois gave him a look. “Trust me—I know.”
I couldn’t help but blush. Not wanting to listen any longer, lest their talk cause my nerves to skyrocket any more than they already had, I moved away and went to get some coffee.
Just as I had finished putting extra amounts of sugar and creamer into my cup, Lois approached me.
“Well, Kent, it looks like our work today is cut out for us.”
“Clark,” I mumbled, though my heart wasn’t really in the correction.
“Clark,” she repeated impatiently. “Perry wants us to find as much on this Black Speck as possible.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “Black Speck?”
Her frustration appeared to be growing with my lack of knowledge. “Yes. That’s what they’re calling him. You do know what happened today with the colonist launch vehicle, don’t you?”
“So, we’re supposed to find everything we can on the Black Speck?” I asked, driving the subject away from whether I held or lacked knowledge of the morning’s events.
“Yes. We need to get a hand on every video, every eyewitness account—you name it. If someone knows anything about the Black Speck, then we need to know it, too.” She was in full investigative reporter mode.
Something suddenly occurred to me, and I queried, “What exactly do you mean by ‘we?’”
“This story is so big Perry is pairing us up. I don’t like it any more than you do—in fact, I like it less—but I’m not going to sit here and argue all day with him till the proverbial Kansas cows come home . . . . Not when the news is this big.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Now, do you have a problem working with me?” She poked her finger into my chest.
“No,” I murmured, taken aback by the unexpected physical contact. “I just thought you worked alone.” I had to keep myself from bringing up a hand to cover the spot where she had just touched me. It was strange how the sensation seemed to linger.
She suddenly tilted her head, looking at my shirt. “Is that the locket I gave you?”
I glanced down; I hadn’t realized I had forgotten to tuck the necklace in before leaving my hotel room. “Yeah, it is.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you painted it white?”
“It was my grandmother’s favorite color,” I told her. But that was a lie. Her favorite color had been blue.
“Makes sense,” she acknowledged, patting me on the chest absentmindedly, and then she continued to work on preparing her coffee.
My white lie to Lois began to agitate me, and I walked to my desk to get away from her. But she was soon behind me and informing me of what little she knew about the Black Speck. Then we began calling people and sending Jimmy on various quests. Before long, we were going over videos and screenshots and making a few more calls to people at EPRAD. Finally, we were able to write something up for the Planet, and we presented it to the Editor-in-Chief.
We waited as he read it. When he was done, he set it down and looked up at us. “This is good work, you two, but I just don’t like the name ‘Black Speck.’ Other news places may be using it, but we have someone who was on the scene . . . . Surely, we can do a little better than this.”
Lois and I exchanged a glance. Then she suggested, “What about ‘Black Knight’?”
Mr. White pointed a pair of fingers at her. “That’ll work.”
I shifted my feet uncomfortably. I didn’t like my actions being painted as knightly, though I did feel the appellation of “Black Knight” was appropriate in some ways. A black knight historically was a knight who wasn’t bound to a certain lord or who did not want his real identity known. But while I certainly did not want to be identified, I would have preferred never to have been noticed at all.
A few minutes later, I was leaving the room with Lois when Mr. White called out for me to wait. I turned and looked at him questioningly.
“Kent, do you, uh, have any plans tonight?”
I hesitated. “Not particularly.”
“Good! Then you won’t mind doing some socializing with your boss.”
“Uh—”
“So, I’ll see you in the conference room at nine then—for the game?”
“The game?” I echoed uneasily.
“Just some ol’ newspaper cronies sharing a few beers and laughs. It’ll be fun.”
“Umm, Mr. White—”
He looked at me. “You do play cards, don’t you, Kent?”
I dipped my head. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Well, we’re out a player, and I think you’ll do just fine. Ever played much poker, son?”
“In my college days, I did play,” I admitted.
“Good!” he exclaimed, pleased. “Then maybe you’ll be able to give Lois a run for her money. That girl is too competitive for her own good.”
“Lois is going to be there?” I asked uneasily.
He shook his head with a smile. “Shoot, son, she only misses our monthly poker night when it’s a matter of life and death . . . . And with her, that’s more often than both she and I would like to admit.”
“Mr. White, maybe I should pass tonight—”
“Now, Kent, I’m not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. You should really get out more.”
“But it won’t be getting out, Mr. White . . . . The game’s at the Plan—” I cut off on seeing the look on his face. “All right,” I sighed. “I’ll be a team player.”
“I hope not—if you and Lois team up against the rest of us, I doubt we’ll stand a chance,” he quipped.
I rolled my eyes and left his office. I had been roped into this—there was no way I could say “no” to the boss. I would just have to go and get it over with.
Lois glanced at me curiously as I walked to my desk, and I muttered, “Looks like I’ll be playing poker tonight.”
She gave me the once-over. “I didn’t know they taught card games to wholesome Kansas boys.”
“And I didn’t know award-winning investigative journalists had time for them,” I returned. “Guess we learn something new every day.”
That actually got a smile from her, and I found myself feeling pleased.
****
I went home before the big poker game, figuring I should change into something more comfortable and call my parents, who more likely than not had seen me posted all over the news. And I was right—no sooner had I called them than my mother instantly started asking me what this “Black Speck” business was. Apparently, they had wanted to talk to me about it all day but hadn’t wanted to bug me at work. Honestly, it was good they hadn’t—it wasn’t the sort of thing that would be easy to talk to them about in the newsroom.
“I just couldn’t let all those people die,” I told them with a sigh. “Not after we had worked so hard in trying to make everything perfect for them.”
“Maybe you should keep trying to rescue people,” Mom suggested. “After all, what’s a little more exposure?”
Dad was about to say something, but I cut him off, “No. I’m not going to start saving people. It’s too dangerous.”
Mom asked casually, “You said Lois Lane was on the transport vehicle?”
“Yeah . . . I don’t know why I took her off it. It was just one of those spur-of-the-moment things. I had to make a decision quickly, and that was what I chose . . . . I’m not sure why I did, really. It would have been easier if I had just left her there.” A lot easier, actually. If I’d left her, I wouldn’t still be thinking about how she had felt in my arms.
“How did Lois feel about being taken away from it by the Black Speck?”
“Well, they’re calling him—me—the ‘Black Knight’ now . . . . At least, the Planet is. But it doesn’t matter. They aren’t going to see me do anything like that ever again.”
“And Lois?” Dad pressed.
I smiled as I thought of that fiery woman. “She is determined to find out everything about the Black Knight that she can. If it weren’t for the fact that my rescue days are over, I might be worried that she would discover my true identity eventually.”
“Well, you’ll have to tell a woman your secret at some point when you decide to settle down,” Mom said offhandedly.
I clenched my fists. I hated retreading this ground. “No, Mom. How could I ever marry anyone? I couldn’t—I just couldn’t.”
“Clark—”
“It isn’t anything I can ever consider,” I said firmly, feeling a little calmer after my outburst. “I need to get off here—I have to get ready. We’re having a poker night at the Planet.”
After we said our goodbyes, I turned to my locket. I needed a little more exposure to the meteor rock if I was going to be around people that night. But my thumb hesitated on top of the locket.
I remembered how emotionally distraught I had felt when I had come home from Africa—my mental pain had been far worse than the physical pain I had felt during my first exposure to the meteor rock. After returning from Africa, I had spent countless hours up in my childhood treehouse—the Fortress of Solitude—before my parents had even known I was home. But my dad had been walking by the tree and heard me crying. He had come up in the treehouse, obviously concerned, and he had moved to embrace me, but I had half-growled and half-sobbed for him to stay away. In confusion, he had sat down on the floor across from me. Then, he had asked me what was wrong. But I couldn’t tell him. I had known then that I could never tell him.
I had said that I was leaving—that I was going to go spend the rest of my days in Antarctica—and he had tried valiantly to convince me otherwise. He was finally able to persuade me to leave the Fortress of Solitude and talk with my mother. When I told her I had to go away forever, she had looked so hurt, so heartbroken . . . and I had hated myself for doing that to her. But during all that, something occurred to me. It was strange how a lifeline came to me in the form of a bringer of death, but that’s how it was. I had remembered the meteor rock and its ability to strip away my powers. And I had known it would be the thing that would keep me from ever seeing that awful look on my mother’s face again.
My parents had argued with me for what seemed like hours on end, and more than a few tears had been shed. But I had been adamant, and they had eventually backed down. The idea to place part of the meteor rock in a locket hadn’t occurred to me until later, but when I had finally gained my parents’ mixed blessing, I had marched straight to my father’s supply of the glowing green stone and experienced that awful pain for the second time in my life.
Now, I couldn’t count how many times I had used it. It would probably just depress me if I tried.
But that harmful stone was the only thing that stood between me and a solitary life. As much as I hated it, I knew it would need to be a part of my life forever if I was going to live among humans. Their vulnerability was my vulnerability.
With a sad smile, I opened the locket for what felt like the ten thousandth time.
****
Later that night, I plopped a pretzel in my mouth and then put two more chips in the pot. “Twenty.”
The Planet conference room was filled with a cloud of smoke courtesy of one of the poker player’s cigars, and the table was littered with food containers and drink cans. Everything seemed to have been building up to this one moment.
Lois stared at me hard, trying to read my mind. But I just gazed back at her with a blank expression, privately amused. Finally, she sighed and threw down her cards. “I fold.”
I turned to the Editor-in-Chief. Everyone else had already ducked out of the hand. He was studying me, trying to find my tell, but I wasn’t giving him anything. My cards were flat on the table. Jimmy, who wasn’t participating in the game, was standing near the table and glancing occasionally at people’s cards, and I didn’t want him giving anything away, so I had made sure he wouldn’t be able to see my hand. My eyes locked with Perry White’s, and I saw a little flicker that I suspected was his tell.
The pot was at its biggest. I had lost some minor hands and won some bigger ones, but we were approaching the end of the night’s game, and this hand was an important one. It was especially important for me, as I couldn’t really afford to lose the money.
He glanced at his hand and then threw two of his own chips into the pot. “I see your twenty, and I raise you . . . fifty.”
I kept my expression stony, but my heart was racing. I’d never intended for it to become this steep. But I was already way in over my head, so I needed to just go for it. I put the necessary chips into the pot and said, “All right, I call.”
We revealed our hands, and I nearly sighed in relief when I learned that my full house beat his pair. The Editor-in-Chief had been bluffing in an attempt to make the pot too rich for my blood. But I hid my feeling of relief with a tight smile as I raked in the chips. Still—despite my fear, it had been exhilarating to go head-to-head with Perry White. I could feel a weird camaraderie swelling up between all of us present at the table. It felt good.
“Now, where did a farmboy like you learn to play like that?” Lois asked, adjusting the visor on her head.
“No kidding, C.K.,” Jimmy seconded. “I kept looking for your tell, but if you have one, I can’t find it.”
“We played a lot of poker at the study abroad program I went to one summer,” I told them with a shrug. “I didn’t know much going in, but someone there was pretty good and taught me a lot.”
“Well, maybe you can teach me,” Jimmy said eagerly, and I smiled at him.
“He’s not that good,” Lois muttered, though I had been able to see several times that she was impressed with me.
We played a few more minor hands before I bowed out gracefully, my pockets heavier than they had been when I arrived. As I left, I briefly thought back to Africa—and to the friends I’d had there.
****
After another miserable loss at poker, I must have looked rather glum, as Carrie took pity on me and asked me to go on a walk with her. We went outside to the university courtyard and stared up at the stars as we strolled along, making idle chitchat.
Finally, she cut to the chase. “Kenny and Anthony can be pretty overwhelming sometimes.”
I shrugged. “They don’t mean to be. Joking with people just comes naturally to them.”
“Well, I know it doesn’t feel good to lose every hand of poker to those two jesters.”
“That’s for sure,” I chuckled. “They don’t mind rubbing their wins into people’s faces.” It did occasionally sting a little.
“Well, how about I give you some pointers?” she asked. “I’m not a bad poker player myself.”
I stopped and looked at her. “Not bad?” I echoed. “You’re amazing. Don’t think I haven’t notice that you generally just let them win the small hands. The big ones almost always go to you.”
“That’s why I need you to offer me some competition,” she said with a grin. “So, whaddaya say? Care to learn some tips from a pro?”
“Is the pope a Catholic?” I returned. “Of course I want to.”
“Good,” she said, pleased. “Then let’s start right now. There’s no time like the present.”
****
Carrie had taught me so much about poker that night. Afterward, my head had simply been brimming with newfound knowledge. The next time I had played with Kenny and Anthony, they had certainly been in for a big surprise. After that, they were determined to beat me just as badly as I had beaten them, but they were never able to, not even after they had proclaimed it to be their solemn duty. One time, I had been tempted to use my x-ray vision to cheat in a quickly escalating game. But I had forced myself to refrain from it and just went with my gut instincts. The game had ended well for me, but I had never again come as close to cheating with my special abilities as I had at that time.
Even before I had gotten good, those poker nights had been fun. We Americans had made a pretty close-knit group at the African university and had come to the summer study abroad program from all over the United States. I was the only one who hailed from Kansas, but I didn’t get labeled “farmboy” (not that the term wouldn’t have been deserved) just because there was someone there from Georgia who made an even easier target. But despite whatever differences we may have had, we had all bonded through the similarity of our nationality . . . and through those poker nights. A few African students had even become a part of our circle, largely because Anthony and Kenny were just as welcoming as they were amusing. When I had found that I was able to quickly pick up languages—something that I had begun suspecting in high school Spanish—I had even begun encouraging our African friends to speak in languages other than English, much to their amusement.
Africa had been an enjoyable experience for me right up until the day before I left and cut my study abroad short. But I forced my mind away from that. I couldn’t change the past, even though I would have given anything if that could be one of my powers.
And so, trying to keep my mind focused on the present and deciding that I wouldn’t be participating in any more of the monthly poker nights lest they conjure up even more painful memories, I returned to my hotel room and went to sleep. I had no bad dreams that night.
