Chapter IIb- Bittersweet Chocolate
***Friday May 23rd, 1997***
Even chocolate chip cookies couldn’t dull this pain.
“She’s dead, Mom.” Any more finality squeezed into his voice and Clark would have had the authority of God. They were sitting at the kitchen table, Martha knitting and Clark slumped over. It was his most recognizable position lately.
“There’s no fire in the world.” He placed his head on his arms. “Lois was the fire in my world. Now everything is sort of dull and lifeless. Like me.
“I hate her.” He burst out suddenly. “I hate her for ruining my life. Who does she think she is? Just go off and die, trying to marry that Luthor. She enjoyed torturing me.”
“Hate is a strong word,” Martha put in placidly, her needles clicking. There wasn’t a whole lot to say to Clark when he was in this mood.
“Well, Lois was a strong person. It’s either love or hate, and I can’t stand to love her right now. It’s too painful. When I love her I don’t function.”
“When you hate her you don’t function either.” The needles slid against each other with a metallic sound.
The click was like the last thing holding back the dam. Loving Lois was like eating bittersweet chocolate. Clark dissolved into wracking sobs. How could his mother understand? There were no words to describe his pain. She had never had to deal with anything like this. She could never know, never empathize with him.
Martha wasn’t sure whether or not to suggest something to her son but she decided to anyway. She had seen him in pain for the last two years. The tears he was crying now were not so much tears of pain and anger as tears of tiredness and frustration. It was no longer that he missed Lois so much, but that he was tired of missing her and couldn’t stop.
Martha ventured quietly. “Maybe you should try moving on, Clark.”
“What’s the point?” He sniffled, using a napkin to wipe his face.
“Because you’re slowly dying, and she wouldn’t want you to do that.”
“How do you know what she would have wanted?”
Martha stared at him. “Because she cared about you. Honey, you do need to move on.”
He nodded bitterly. “But I don’t know how.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She moved to hug him. “Maybe you should do what Perry suggests. Get a new partner.”
“I can’t. I can’t work with anyone else.” Lois’ stories, Lois’ style. Anyone else would be almost impossible to adjust to. He wasn’t sure he wanted to try.
“Try. Honey, take the first step. If you don’t, you’ll end up worse than Lois, because she’s dead, and you’ll be alive and wasting your life.”
She didn’t suggest that he start dating again, though he knew it was what she was thinking.
Clark knew his mother was right. Lois was gone and he needed to move on. He was even ready to do so, well, as ready as he was ever going to be. He’d mourned her for two years, but he was ready to try to move on.
Try.
He couldn’t promise anything. He still loved Lois with a vengeance and no one could ever take her place. But he’d start with a new partner, and then, maybe, he’d start dating again. Lois was gone - which meant there must be someone else out there for him. Soul mates are supposed to spend their lives together.
*** Monday May 26th, 1997***
The children squealed delightedly as the little cat explored the room thoroughly. Laurie had gotten permission from Ruth Ann to bring Molly in. Cats were so much more fun than geckoes in aquariums. Though still a kitten, Molly was the friendlier of her two cats. Maya tended to hide under the bed if anyone even called on the phone.
Sammie picked up the fuzzy creature and handed it to Kate. Blue eyes alight with happiness, the little girl stroked the cat for a moment before it jumped off her lap.
Going by the “rote teacher’s analysis” for bringing a cat to the classroom, Laurie could think of four reasons why she had brought Molly.
Number one - children who associate with animals develop immunity to allergies.
Number two - playing with animals is therapeutic.
Number three - having a pet creates responsibility.
Number four - having to treat an animal gently teaches compassion.
Going by her own “cat lover analysis” for bringing a cat to the classroom, Laurie could think of endless reasons why she had brought Molly.
Number one - cats are just so much fun.
Number two - cats are warm and fuzzy.
Number three - cats are dear.
Number four - cats are funny.
Number five -…
She stopped herself there, knowing she could go on forever. She delighted in watching “her children” play with the black and white cat. Molly was everywhere at once and peals of laughter followed her every move.
Laurie called the children to her.
“Molly is probably getting tired now, so I’m going to put her back in her kitty carrier. Ms. McFarlande is here to teach you your lesson, so you may go sit down at your tables.” Groans of disappointment followed this announcement, but Laurie herded them ruthlessly towards the tables where the other teacher was waiting. Leaving the students to the capable hands of Ms. McFarlande, Laurie scooped up her kitty and deposited her in the carrier.
Numbers were being counted slowly and painfully at the little tables as the other teacher and Sammie put the kids through their schoolwork. Laurie collapsed into a rocker in the reading area, hidden behind one bookshelf but still able to see the whole room.
About half an hour into the lesson, Abby slipped unobtrusively out of her chair and slid along the wall to the nook in which Molly was resting. Carefully the little girl pulled the cat out of the carrier and into her lap, stroking it all the while. She put her arm under Molly’s body so that the kitty’s legs weren’t left hanging, but had a comfortable perch.
Laurie thought about making Abby go back to the lesson, but there was no point. Abby was having a hard time understanding the teacher as she had to go by the few pictures used. Even after the children were let out to recess, almost thirty minutes later, Abby was still sitting in her corner holding Molly.
‘You should go outside,’ Laurie signed.
“May I stay inside with Molly, please?’ The little girl asked. She looked up at “Miss” hopefully.
‘It’s sunny out,” Laurie put in.
‘I know, but I want to stay with Kitty. I think she wants some quiet.’
Laurie nodded and moved so she could supervise recess from the window.
Molly was purring loud enough that Laurie could hear it from several feet away and Abby’s whole face was lit up in the kind of happiness that most girls get from playing with princess dolls for the first time. Laurie had the feeling that Abby had never played with dolls or cats before.
The little girl had been neglected and abused her entire three years of life and even now, the treatment was not much better. Her foster parents did their best, but they were poor and had five other children in the house.
The few hundred dollars the state allotted each month for Abby were not enough to feed and clothe her decently. Consequently, most of Abby’s clothes were hand-me-downs and didn’t match. She often came to class with her face unwashed or in dirty clothes.
She continued to play with the cat, kissing its head and stroking its ears. Abby was right, the only quiet Molly got that day was the hour she spent in Abby’s arms. In fifteen minutes the other preschoolers were back inside, ready to play with “ta kitty” again.
*** Wednesday, May 28th, 1997 ***
“Want a beer, Anne?” Sarah pulled open the fridge, setting one frosty can on the counter and reaching for another before Anne had even replied. Anne nodded and tossed a few more pretzels in her mouth.
They were waiting for pizza to arrive, dripping with oily cheese and fatty pepperoni. When Laurie wasn’t around, they ate junk food to their hearts’ content. They figured talking about Laurie didn’t necessitate them eating like she was there.
“Like I said, I haven’t seen her this excited about something since I met her.” Anne had swallowed her pretzels and continued with the conversation. “Who’d’ve thought Laurie would want to adopt a kid? Miss “I-don’t-talk-about-family” wanting a kid?”
Sarah broke in. “Laurie’s a strange one. She’s not the type you would have pinned for a schoolteacher. Too many smarts hidden behind her glasses. If I met her in the streets, I’d pin her for an up and coming professor.”
“A professor?” Anne laughed. “Laurie? A professor? Nah… She’d be more suited to writing or something.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “She said something about writing the other day. ‘Making a difference with a hundred words’ or something like that. It was strange… kinda out of the blue…” Her words trailed off.
Neither woman knew much about Laurie or her previous life. Oh, they knew every single detail of her life now, they were her best friends, but she hadn’t told them anything about her life before Washington.
The doorbell rang and Domino’s delivered their “high cal” pizza. Anne plunked it on the table while Sarah gathered plates and napkins for the meal. It was consumed in relative silence.
“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Laurie talk about a boyfriend or even guys,” Sarah suddenly broke in.
“Neither’ve I.”
“Any normal woman is interested in men, unless she is trying to advance her career or something. Laurie can’t be worried about her career, not in a preschool. And she’s not taking any college courses or anything.”
“Maybe she just isn’t interested in guys,” Anne put in placidly, after taking a bite of her pizza.
“But why not?” Sarah insisted.
“’Cause she had a bad experience?” A guess was all Anne could make.
“Aha! What bad experience?”
“Sarah, we know nothing about her previous life and she won’t tell us. How on earth are we supposed to find out about her “bad experience” with guys?”
“Well, some mysterious letter will come in the mail with all the gory details.”
Sarcastically, Anne replied. “Last I checked I was talking to Sarah. Where’d she go?”
“She read too many novels.”
“Dang right.” She dabbed the pizza with a napkin.
Sarah wrinkled her nose at the oil soaked napkin. “Nasty… I wonder why she doesn’t do guys?”
“Sar-ah,” warned Anne.
“Okay, okay.” A few moments were filled with the sound of eating and the obnoxious chiming of Sarah’s cuckoo clock.
Breaking the silence, Anne commented. “Laurie’s an odd one. She seems perfectly content with life, but she doesn’t have a boyfriend or any family, she doesn’t have a career, she won’t talk about her previous life. It’s just…strange. I mean, she’s a woman, and women gossip.”
“Laurie doesn’t.” Sarah sprinkled cheese on her pizza as she replied.
“I know…She’s just kinda quiet. I like her, but she’s different. No goals or something. Like she’s got something to hide, something hidden away in her ‘past life.’”
“Like an evil maniac boyfriend or a dead parent or something.”
“Or something.”
They threw their paper plates in the garbage.
Sarah suddenly burst out. “I’n’t the kid Laurie wants deaf or something?”
“Yeah. Laurie’s been taking sign language and teaching it to the little girl. Otherwise they can’t talk.”
“I can’t imagine Laurie adopting a deaf kid.”
“You couldn’t imagine her adopting a child either. And she seems like she’s gonna try to do both in one shot.”
***Wednesday, June 4th, 1997***
It had been nearly two weeks since his decision to take another partner and he still hadn’t told Perry. Every time a chance flew his way, he ducked. Apparently his courage fluttered out of the coop – er - bullpen, whenever it saw Perry headed its way.
So when he heard the familiar cry “Clark! My office!” he made up his mind to tell Perry the moment he got in there. But as usual, his courage dissipated at Perry’s threshold. So now he was seated in a chair across the desk from his gruff editor, waiting for the aforementioned man to finish grumbling about Ralph’s grammar. He was also trying to figure out how to say ‘I’ll take a new partner.’
Abruptly, Perry’s head snapped up.
“I’ve figured out how to find you a partner.” What was the man, psychic or something? Okay, so he wasn’t quite psychic, it didn’t directly reply to Clark’s unspoken thought, but it was pretty darn close.
“Ooo-kay…” Clark felt like he had been smacked in the head with an iron hammer. At least, that’s what he thought it felt like. He wasn’t quite sure, having never experienced that precise sensation before. So, he was to get a partner and Perry knew how to do that?
“I can’t read minds but I can tell when you’re trying to tell me something, son. You’ve been trying ever since a day after our last real chat. Now, we can’t just go advertising for a new reporter. Imagine the ad:
“ ‘Wanted: One intrepid reporter. Must be willing to risk life and limb, have experience with death threats, and have ability to bring partner out of depression.’ ”
Clark chuckled at the thought, then sobered as he realized how much it described his dead workmate. He wasn’t given any time to brood, however, as Perry pushed on through his thoughts.
“So this is what we’re gonna do. We’ll have Research pull articles from papers around the country. Then you and I can screen them. Writers we like will get sent back to Research and we’ll have ‘em pull any more articles we have on file. Then we can go from there.
“Works better to approach the best writers than to ask reporters to come to you. You do that and you get those that wouldn’t get hired elsewhere. You go to reporters, and you can pick the cream of the crop.” Clark nodded dumbly, then started as Perry’s words penetrated his stupor.
“So I’ll read articles and follow up on the authors I like?” Perry looked a little disappointed that his long explanation could be summed up so succinctly, but nodded.
“Essentially.”
“When do I get my first batch?” Clark decided it was better not to beat around the bush.
“Uh… I’ll get Research on it right away. You should have them by Friday.”
“Okay.” Clark rose to leave.
“Clark, are you okay?”
Clark turned, his hand on the knob.
“Yeah Chief, why?”
Perry looked a little nonplussed, but he plunged ahead at any rate. “Well, last I checked with you, you refused to work with anyone else. Now suddenly, you’re talking about it matter-of-factly.”
The younger man turned back towards Perry, his face a mask of sorrow and determination. “I miss Lois like heck, Perry, but I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning her. I’ve decided to move on.”
Perry nodded and Clark returned to his desk, torn inside about the decision he had made, but knowing it was the right one.
