From Part 4:
Why had I not been the one complaining about Perry’s assignment? I vaguely remembered that Mad Dog Lane would have handled things very differently. But that was before I broke my own vow never to fall in love with the wrong man again. The real problem was that I was not likely to get to breaking rule number three. Sharing a room would undoubtedly be the first step on a painful way to lunacy.
* * *
Only in my dreams
Part 5
The journey passed in silence. It was just like I had expected. Still, I was disappointed. Clark’s gaze remained so focused on the road ahead, as if it was him driving the car instead of me. I glanced at him now and again, trying to fathom what had changed between us. Why was it that Clark could not stand having an innocuous conversation with me? And why did I not just ask him for his reasons? But my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, and every word that came to my mind, seemed far too reproachful to help me get my old Clark back.
The further we got away from the city, the emptier the streets became. The silence was unbearable. Frequently, my glance returned to my partner, who had begun staring out of the side window. I saw no more of him than a reflection in the windshield. He looked miserable. Did he already miss Mayson? His lips had grown tight and his expression grim. When he finally looked at me, it seemed as if he was about to say something, but he did not. Right after the incident, his eyes darted away quickly, back to the window and the silence went into an exhausting next round.
The highway stretched endlessly ahead of us. Only a few curves interrupted the monotonous journey that was miles away from getting us to a Pulitzer. Now and again we saw other cars. Each of them rushed to escape the wasteland for which we were heading. Even the sun was hiding. Nothing about the endless grey sky indicated that time was actually passing.
"Lois..." Clark finally said, his voice hoarse. He relapsed into silence, waiting for my reaction. I generously looked back at him. "... it’s not about you. I want you to know that," he continued softly, really looking at me for perhaps the first time this day. "It's not your fault that I'm..." he hesitated and did not seem to find the right words.
"...that you are behaving so childishly, Clark?" I helped him out, glaring at him furiously.
He opened his mouth in protest, but thought better of it and nodded. "You're absolutely right; I have been acting childish," he sighed. "I know that and I'm sorry, so terribly sorry, Lois. But somehow we have to get along over the next few days to write this story..." His voice grew softer. "And then I'll hand in my resignation."
"What?" I exclaimed in horror, and wondered how I managed not to steer the car into a ditch. But maybe it was just because we drove on a completely straight road, with no ditches in sight.
"I've said that I’ll hand in my resignation," Clark muttered under his breath, resuming his stare out of the window. I could not discern the look on his face, not from his reflection anyway. He seemed sad.
"That was what I thought I heard," I said in a mix of pure horror and utter confusion. "Why, Clark? Why do you want to do this?" There was so much more I wanted to ask him. Had Mayson asked him to quit? "Why, if it this is not about me?" I managed to whisper. My voice was brittle and I felt hot tears burn in my eyes. I had a hard time restraining them. The road went blurry before my eyes, but I would not give in.
Clark said nothing, obstinately staring out the window. My heart resounded in my ears, booming in the unbearable silence that reigned in my car. Once again he chose to ignore me, rather than tell me what was wrong. I would have liked to yell at him, to put him at the receiving end of my anger. But I knew that I would not be able to keep from crying if I spilled out my heart. And Clark was not worth crying over – no way.
"Because I realize that I’m hurting you, Lois. And I hate to do that. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do, you have to believe me," Clark eventually replied. His voice was calm and quiet.
He looked at me with sad eyes. I could not hold his gaze. A huge lump built up in my throat, bringing me even closer to bursting into tears than I had already been. I drew a deep breath, trying to control my feelings. I did not really understand what he was trying to tell me. However, his words pained me, disappointed me and enraged me to the point of madness. If Clark did not hate me, then what else could it be?
"Clark, what's the matter with you?" I breathed desperately, my eyes begging for an answer.
The signpost on the roadside offered Clark a welcome excuse to escape the topic. He immediately began to point out that I had to turn, obviously worried that I might miss the exit. But he could not deceive me. However, my question went unanswered and I wondered if he was ever going to tell me.
to be continued...
