From Part 5:
"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.
* * *
Only in my dreams
Part 6
“Welcome to the Echo Lodge Hotel," the bellboy said with a grin.
He stepped aside, so we could admire the spacious, comfortable suite we were going to share for the next couple of days. It was far less corny than the honeymoon suite at the Lexor Hotel. That did not mean it was not romantic. The room was bright and inviting. On the wide front window, the curtains were drawn aside, revealing the view of a beautiful lake. I had not known that a romantic landscape like this was anywhere near Metropolis. But given my rather strained relationship with Clark, I was not so sure I would be able to fully enjoy it.
Since we entered the hotel, we had always had company. Automatically, we had assumed our roles. Clark had grabbed our luggage, laying his free arm around me protectively. My back still tingled from his touch. Inwardly, I cursed myself that I felt that way for my partner. If I had never fallen in love with him, everything would be so much easier to bear now.
The bellboy harrumphed, as Clark was about to go into the room. My partner stopped and looked at him curiously. The poor boy blushed with embarrassment, clearing his throat all over again.
"It’s a part of our program that the husband carries his wife over the threshold," he said hoarsely. "We ... uh, we try to create a honeymoon atmosphere and bring a new perspective into the relationship." The bellboy hardly looked at us, obviously thinking this was a rather silly idea.
Clark's curiosity was replaced by a horrified expression. He managed just in time to keep his bearings before the bellboy noticed the change. Outwardly, Clark started smiling his thousand-watt smile. It did not reach his eyes, though. The look that was hidden behind his glasses was dangerous. I had only once seen a similar expression on his face – when I had stolen his story.
"That sounds nice," Clark replied, strained. The bellhop grinned with relief, winking at Clark, who had realized that there was no way of escaping this situation. If he did not want to make a fool of himself, he had to carry me into that room.
With a forced smile Clark approached me. I felt his left hand on my back and his right under my knees. Before I really knew what was happening, he held me in his strong arms. For a moment he looked at me with an expression I could not quite interpret. It seemed like a mixture of agony and – regret? I could not think of a better word. Again, I discovered a deep sadness in his eyes and would have liked to ask him what was going on. But this was not the time for questions. Clark gracefully carried me over the threshold and carefully set me back on my feet. The boyish grin that used to play around his lips on occasions like this, was not there.
However, we managed to satisfy the bellboy. Both our smiles were forced. I desperately tried to ignore what Clark's hands had done to me. My knees were soft like jell-o and my heart was pounding. I was angry at myself for secretly wishing that a maid with a handful of towels would storm into the suite. I thought of how Clark had thrown me onto the bed of the honeymoon suite at the Lexor Hotel. I remembered feeling his body, warm and heavy, covering mine. It was strange, but I had felt safe in his arms. Looking back at it, every moment of that day was like an exciting game that we were never going to repeat.
I secretly eyed Clark, looked at his soft lips and dreamed of kissing him. I could not explain why I was doing that. Why could I not continue to regard him as a good friend? But my palms were sweaty and I pressed them firmly against my body, to keep me from reaching for his hand.
"Enjoy your stay," the bellboy said and stuck a bill into his pocket that Clark had to have given him. "Our program starts with dinner tonight. Mrs. Arnold will come by to tell you everything about your stay here. Until then you can explore the hotel, try our spa and fitness rooms, whatever you want."
Seconds later, the wide door slammed shut, and no one saved us from being on our own. There was just Clark and me and this apparently unbridgeable gap between us.
"I'll take the couch," Clark said after a while of watching each other in silence. It was another cold shower that finally woke me from the daydreams I had briefly fallen into.
"It’s a big bed. We could share..." I volunteered, almost sounding like Cat Grant on the hunt – alluring but also pretty needy. My voice broke with shame. Did I seriously believe he would accept the offer?
"Looooiiiiis," Clark said slowly.
It surprised me how incredibly depressed he looked. I had anticipated his rejection, but not this. For a moment he was rendered speechless, while I looked at him, begging for an explanation. I was about to ask him what I had done to drive him off. But Clark also seemed to lack a reasonable explanation for his bizarre behavior. I wanted to shake him, bring him to his senses at last, but felt that violence was not going to help in the least.
"I am a restless sleeper, you'd just ..." His voice failed at the blatant lie.
I would have liked to beat him up until he gave me a better answer than this, but I was also afraid of the truth. Whatever it was that was eating at him, he always remained polite. For the sake of my own sanity, I should not make him cross that line.
"We should better try to keep up appearances, Clark. If they find out that we’re reporters..." I whispered, uncertain what the consequences were supposed to be, given the kind of story we were assigned on. Before my arguments became even more foolish, I bit my tongue. This was nuts!
"Do you really think that someone is watching us here, Lois? Besides, you were always so keen on keeping a professional relationship. I'll take the sofa," he added with certainty. I seriously doubted anyone could change his mind, not even me.
"What is it, Clark? What have I done? All of the sudden you want to give up your job! You love working at the paper," I blurted out, not exactly thinking about what I was going to say. "We were friends, dammit! What happened?" I asked, desperate and way too shrill.
He returned my gaze calmly, looking straight at me. Only on second glance did I notice the tremor in his arms, his chest and his eyes. The veil between us was gone and for the first time in weeks I really saw Clark. He felt just as uncomfortable as I did. But why did he not talk to me? Why did we not say the words that needed to be said?
"Clark, I ..." I began, ready to tell the big, important three words that had been on my lips for weeks. But I hesitated. It seemed to me as if Clark shook his head almost imperceptibly, as if he implored me not do that to him. Then he turned away, and the wall he had drawn between us, the wall that was so high I could barely see him anymore, was back in place - as impenetrable as ever.
"Yes, I like working at the Daily Planet," Clark finally said. "But I think it's better to leave. And now let us explore the hotel, Lois. We are here to work," he said mechanically, almost coldly, and went out of the room. Sadly, I followed him.
to be continued...
