Chapter 32: All I Needed was the Rain

I’m ‘bout as low as I can go.
I don’t really mean to complain.
Now all I needed was the rain.
Rain, rain, rain, rain.
All I Needed was This Rain
--“All I Needed was the Rain”

****

The next day at work, Lois refused to talk to me about anything but business. It was a step up from not talking to me at all—sort of—but it still made me miserable. I tried several times to get her to go into the conference room with me, but she absolutely refused. And anytime I began a sentence with “Lois, I’m s—” she would speak loudly over me.

I growled beneath my breath after one final such attempt and then returned to my computer. I looked up as I saw Jimmy passing by, and then I frowned as I noticed the bags under his eyes. “Hey, Jimmy—you okay?”

“Huh?” he mumbled, glancing around in confusion. Then he realized where the noise had come from and turned his attention to me. “Oh, hi, C.K. Sorry—I’m exhausted. I had to get a second job, and I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

“A second job?” I frowned. “Why?”

He shrugged. “The rent at my apartment went up. My Planet salary just wouldn’t cut it.”

“Why don’t you ask Perry for a raise?” I suggested. If Perry knew about Jimmy’s situation, he wouldn’t have said no. I was confident in that.

Jimmy gave a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, right. I’d sooner poke a sleeping bear.” He sighed. “I’m just a gopher. There’s no reason for him to give me a raise.”

I tilted my head. “Jimmy, why don’t you try to push for better assignments than pet shows and mall openings? It couldn’t hurt.” I knew Jimmy was capable of greater things—I had seen small glimpses of his potential throughout my time with the Planet. In the story he had written about Lex Luthor, he had really shined.

“I don’t know, C.K.,” he said unconfidently. “I just don’t think it’d work.”

“Jimmy—” I tried, but he just walked away. I sighed to myself. I felt sorry for Jimmy—he deserved more. Something needed to be done.

I moved my eyes to Perry’s office, which an annoyed Ralph was coming out of. I stood and passed Ralph, who was muttering to himself, and I entered the Editor-in-Chief’s office.

“Hey, Chief?” I ventured.

Perry White looked up from his desk. “Oh, hi, Clark.” He gestured for me to come forward.

“Did, uh—did you know Jimmy got a second job?” I asked as I shut the door. I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on our conversation.

He frowned. “No, I didn’t know that.”

I shifted my feet. “Apparently, the rent at his apartment has gone up.”

“Well, I wonder why he didn’t tell me . . . . ” Perry mused. He seemed genuinely puzzled, and I could guess why—he thought of Jimmy as a son, and a son should have been able to go to his father for help.

But I couldn’t say that, so I simply pointed out with a wry smile, “You do like the smell of fear in the newsroom.”

He laughed. “I guess I do. But Jimmy, he’s—well, he’s like a son to me.” And there it was—the admission. But I wasn’t the one who needed to hear it.

“Why don’t you tell him that?” I asked him.

Perry raised an eyebrow. “That isn’t just something you can tell someone.” Obviously uncomfortable, he crossed his arms and gave me a searching look. “By the way, Clark—is there something going on between you and Lois?”

I slumped in my chair. “Is it that obvious?”

“I didn’t become Chief Editor of the Planet just because I can make a mean jambalaya,” he returned knowingly. “Care to tell me about it, son?”

I exhaled in frustration. “It looks like I’ve upset her beyond repair. I’ve tried to apologize, but she just keeps shutting me down. I just don’t know what to do.”

“When a woman gets like this, there’s only one thing you can do.”

I lifted my head. “And what’s that?” I was desperate.

“Grovel,” he said firmly. “Unless you do that, there’s no gettin’ past the defenses that have shot up. Even then, it’s hit or miss—you just gotta keep trying until she gets so annoyed she has no choice but to let you in.”

I shook my head with a grin. “If only it was that easy.” Somehow, I didn’t think annoying Lois Lane was the way to get back on her good side.

“Ha!” Perry laughed. “I know what you mean.” He tapped his pen on the desk. “So, if Lois is mad at you, does that mean you’re free this weekend? I’m going fishing, and it just isn’t the same without a partner.”

“Why don’t you take Jimmy?” I suggested. It would be the perfect opportunity for Jimmy and Perry to bond. Maybe then they would actually talk. They were evidently suffering from a communications breakdown.

The Chief Editor looked a little reluctant. “Oh, I’m sure a kid like him wouldn’t want to go fishing with an old codger like me.”

“You should try him,” I told Perry with a smile. I was almost positive Jimmy would accept.

I was about to walk out when Perry something that made me pause.

“So, Cat turned in her resignation today—mentioned something about grooming. You didn’t, uh, have something to do with this, did you?”

I ducked my head, feeling both pleased and guilty. “I, ah, might have.”

Chuckling, Perry said, “Thank you, son. That woman needed a better life.”

I smiled at him. “I know.”

I was grateful that my attempt at intervention had been successful—knowing that Cat was doing something better with her life helped lift my spirits. Now, I just had to repair the rift between Lois and me.

****

That night, I went with Jericho to Lois’s apartment building after he and I practiced our plan of action. From a few feet down the hall, I directed Jericho to Lois’s door.

He trotted up to the door and scratched at it persistently. When Lois finally opened the door, she looked down at him. He had in his mouth a bouquet of chocolate flowers which had been carefully wrapped in plastic so as to defuse drool. She bent and took the flowers from Jericho’s mouth and said in a loud voice, “All right, Clark. Come out from hiding.”

Nervous but hopeful, I approached her. “Can I—can I come in?”

“I guess,” she said reluctantly. “But for the dog’s sake—not yours.” She was certainly not giving up any ground yet.

“That works, I guess,” I mumbled, following Jericho inside. But whereas his tail was wagging happily, I felt as if I were walking in with my figurative tail between my legs.

Lois motioned for me to sit on the couch, which I did, but she remained standing. She set the chocolate flowers down on the counter and then looked at me with crossed arms. “What is it?”

All my plans suddenly seemed daunting, but I reminded myself I needed to move forward if I wanted her to continue speaking to me. “I wanted—I wanted you to know something about . . . about what happened.” It was about time we talked about the elephant in the room. Avoiding it had gone on long enough.

“Go on,” she said flatly. She obviously wasn’t going to be giving me any help.

I took in a deep breath. This was awkward, but it needed to be said. “You know the, uh—the intimacy threshold?” At her curt nod, I continued, “Well, I’ve never actually . . . crossed it.” I swallowed and looked down at my hands. “I’ve been waiting for intimacy until—until marriage.” That was the nicest way to put it, even if it wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t ever expect to marry—and so I never planned to cross that threshold. I just didn’t know how I would behave in an intimate setting. Would I go out of control? There was always the meteor rock, of course, to serve as a precaution, but . . . Was that a way to live?

Lois’s eyes were wide, and her surprise was obvious. “It, uh, it makes sense that you’re a v—a very patient man because of . . . ”

“My past phobia,” I offered, looking up at her.

“Yeah. That.” She hugged her arms against herself and looked at the floor. “I thought you believed there was . . . something wrong with me.”

I felt a pain inside. How could she possibly have thought that? “Lois—there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re an amazing woman. And you always will be.”

Uncomfortable with my praise, she gave me a half smile and looked at Jericho, who was staring up at her in hopes of receiving some attention. “How did you convince him not to eat the chocolate?”

“He’s well trained,” I told her, watching as she scratched Jericho behind his ears.

“Who trained him? Superman?”

I faltered, glad she wasn’t looking at me. If I claimed Superman trained the dog and Lois asked him—well, me—about it, then I wouldn’t have the first clue as to how to respond to any questions about dog training. I could ask Mom to give me a crash course on training, but . . .

I looked at Lois, who was still scratching Jericho, and I decided to tell her part of the truth. “I got the dog from Keira Fisher. I talked with Superman and my parents about him, and Superman flew him to Smallville for my mom to train him, though of course I don’t want anyone else to know that.” I sighed and examined my hands, which weren’t as fascinating as I was pretending they were. “Really, Jericho is a unique case among the Sallya Technologies experiments. His intelligence was drastically increased, so he was really easy for my mom to train. But if anyone found out my mom helped with Krypto’s training, then my parents might be at risk—people might think they’re connected to Superman . . . . ” Somehow, my explanation had become more of a ramble, and I was beginning to turn red. It didn’t help that my parents actually were connected to Superman. I felt like I was giving away too much.

“I won’t print anything,” Lois said softly. She sounded thoughtful, and I looked at her in curiosity. But she was avoiding my eyes.

I felt awkward just sitting there in her apartment. I had received her forgiveness and told her about a private part of my life. However, if anything, she seemed to be clamming up because of it all rather than opening up.

Sighing and figuring she probably just wanted some privacy, I stood up. “I guess—I guess I should tell you good night.”

She looked at me, that pensive expression still on her face. “Good night to you, too, Clark. And thanks for the chocolate.”

“You’re welcome, Lois,” I told her.

But as she shut the door behind me, I saw a flicker of that strange fire in her eyes which always ignited when she was hot on the trail of a story. There was a strange part of me that wondered—feared—that the story was me. But I dismissed the thought as implausible. She was just thinking about Jericho. That was all.

****

The next day at work, however, Lois was acting strange. She was still pensive, but she had also become a little absentminded, and she kept giving me weird looks. After a little thought, I decided to cook dinner for her to “help make up” for upsetting her. When I made the suggestion to Lois, she agreed I could come, and I was glad—not because I was going to spend time with her, though that was a bonus, but because I might be able to figure out what was occupying her mind.

I went to her apartment after work with a bag of food. When she opened the door, she smiled at me and motioned me inside. “You know where the kitchen is.”

Chuckling to myself, I went into the kitchen and put my bag on the counter. Then I began dinner preparations.

Finally, I slipped the pan of chicken pizza roll-ups into the oven and went to sit on the couch. Lois disappeared into the bathroom, and my eyes idly fell on the laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of me. There was a paper jammed underneath it, and I picked it up in morbid curiosity, wondering why it had been so hastily concealed. When I unfolded the paper, I fully expected it to be notes on the story she was avoiding telling me about. What I saw, however, caused my heart to stop.

At the top of the paper, it said:

CK = S

It could have been an innocuous enough message if that was all there was, but beneath those four characters was a long list of reasons supporting Lois’s theory that Clark Kent was Superman. I had been wrong to dismiss the notion that I was the story. It was all here in black and white.

I read the list at super speed, my pulse pounding through my veins and my throat feeling like it was filled with cotton balls. Some supporting reasons included the Krypto/Jericho connection (and his training), the coinciding nature of my increased tolerance to touch with the appearance of Superman (plus a few possible reasons for me having such a phobia in the first place), my frequent disappearances, my story choice for the Star Wars fanzine, my similar appearance to Superman, the broken locks that seemed prolific when I went investigating with Lois, the fact that she hadn’t seen us in the same place at once, my convenient rescues of her (including when I rescued her from nearly being mowed down by a car) . . . . There were even more reasons listed, some of which were spot-on and some of which were farfetched. But if one thing was clear from that piece of paper . . . it was that I was in big trouble.

I heard Lois’s footsteps approaching, and I quickly put the piece of paper back where it had been before. I smiled at her when she entered the room, but I was shaken inside.

“It smells good,” she commented.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. But not even a good dinner would be able to make me recover. What in the world was I going to do?

****

That night, after checking on the injured bird, I flew to my parents’ house in a panic. Fortunately, they hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“Clark? What is it?” Mom asked when she saw me.

“I’m in trouble,” I said, not mincing words. I proceeded to fill them in on what had happened, and when I was done, I told them, “I have to figure out a way to make Lois think I’m not Superman. Maybe . . . maybe a lookalike agency or . . . a hologram maybe . . . ” My mind was swirling with ideas.

Mom frowned, not understanding what the problem was. “Why? You don’t think she’d write a story about it, do you?”

“Of course not,” I replied with confidence. “But someone who found out about her knowledge could use her against me. It would put her in danger.”

Dad crossed his arms. “I hate to break it to you, Clark, but anyone can be used against you. If you heard a stranger was kidnapped, would you be less likely to save them than Lois?”

I frowned. “Well, no, but—”

“Then don’t pretend that is the reason you don’t want Lois to know about you,” Mom admonished. With pursed lips, she asked me, “What is the reason, Clark?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, a vision of Lois in my mind’s eye. “I’m afraid I might hurt her. Or she could even end up hurting herself.” If either of those happened, it would destroy me. I opened my eyes. “If she knew her partner was Superman, she would probably start taking more risks.”

Mom shrugged. “She may start taking more risks—but she also might be more likely to let you in on what she is doing. I know I’ve heard you complain a few times about Lois rushing into danger without telling you anything about it.”

I wanted to argue with her. The thought of Lois getting hurt was enough to make me become extremely irrational. But recognizing that was progress, right?

I thought about what Mom had just said. It was difficult keeping up with Lois sometimes. But there was a chance she might see the perks of having Superman as a partner—and she might keep me more in on the loop.

“Maybe you’re right, Mom,” I admitted with a sigh. It was hard to let go of those fears when I had clutched them to myself for so long. “It’s been hard living this lie with her. At least now I can explain why I can’t be in a relationship with her.”

Mom’s face soured, but Dad nodded and gave her a warning look. “If that’s what you want, son. We won’t argue with you anymore.” He put an arm around Mom, and she put her head on his shoulder.

An ache of longing welled up within me, but I pushed it aside. I had a set path in life, and I couldn’t deviate from it. No matter how good it had felt to kiss Lois Lane.