Only in my dreams
Part 12
"Enjoy your meal," the waiter said friendly. A pained smile appeared on his face as he looked at the empty chair across the table. "Hopefully your husband comes back soon. It would be a shame if we had to reheat the food for him. I’m afraid it wouldn’t be as delicious." He nodded at me briefly, then looked up and smiled, visibly relieved. He had discovered Clark. My partner came over to us with flushed cheeks and an embarrassed smile.
"You were long gone," I chided him with a significant glance at the clock, thus emphasizing that twenty minutes had passed.
"I'm very sorry, Lois," Clark said, contrite. He waited until the waiter was gone before he finally spoke again. I suddenly realized that I was tapping my fingers on the table impatiently while I shot my so-called best friend angry glances. "I ... I was held up. "
"Oh yeah? What was it, Clark? Was your zipper jammed?" I hissed, took my silverware and vowed to ignore Clark for the rest of the evening. From the corner of my eye I discovered his deepening blush with grim satisfaction. Angrily, I split a potato in two parts, then three, until suddenly I had turned most of it into mash.
"Lois..." Clark tried, but did not get far.
"You know what," I interrupted him rudely, "I don’t care." I shrugged. Let him use the men's room or the shower any way he wanted. "It would just be nice if you tried to keep up this marriage for a single evening." The rest of the potato fell victim to my anger and I was beginning to wonder why I was not the one who kept running out.
"You're right, and I'm sorry, Lois," Clark said softly and looked at me, concerned, as I worked on the potato. Not much would be left of it and I did not even like mashed potatoes that much. "I ... I've heard them talking again outside," Clark whispered across the table in a sudden change of topic. I could only look at him quizzically. Confused, I furrowed my brows and tried to understand what he was talking about. What could he have overheard in the restroom, if he had been there, that was? "The bellboy keeps observing us."
"You mean ..." Suddenly I remembered what we had heard in the hallway outside our room, a couple of hours ago. Had I become become such a lousy reporter, that I had forgotten about the only lead that might turn out as a story?
"We’d better not discuss this here," Clark said then. "The issue is not on our list." His eyes sparkled and for a brief moment, I recognized my best friend Clark. "Where would you have liked to spend your honeymoon?" He changed topics in a jiffy making me even more confused.
I did not want our argument to be swept under the rug. Especially not after this had earned me mashed potatoes swimming in gravy. I would have preferred an open fight over returning to our tradition of … well, not talking about our problems.
Honeymoon – the nerve of that man.
But we sat together at a table. We were surrounded by other couples, sitting at their tables and most likely watching us. They were probably just waiting for me to turn this conversation into a scene.
"There was no honeymoon, Clark," I replied indignantly and took the first bite before I used the fork for worse things than mashing potatoes. Defiantly, I looked at him, quietly telling him that it was his turn now to keep this conversation going. It really was not my fault that he was being so distant. I had tried to be his friend.
"I know," he said simply. "It's a hypothetical question, anyway, isn’t it? The Lois I know would most likely spend her honeymoon hunting for a story worth a Pulitzer, " he teased me good-naturedly. "Or did you have something special planned with Lex?" Clark finally started eating. Despite the good food, he kept his attention on me, eyeing me constantly.
"Do we have to talk about him again?" I asked acidly and drove my fork into a piece of meat. "No, I had nothing planned with him. Lex did the planning, but I assume you already knew that." Did he really need to mention my unbelievably poor taste in men? It was already bad enough that Clark was the culmination of my list of notorious liars and unfaithful guys. Clark was not either of those, but my streak of unsuitable dates remained unbroken. I had finally fallen for a man who had no interest in me whatsoever.
"I’m sorry, Lois," Clark replied, honestly contrite. "So, where would you like to go to if money didn’t matter?" His question sounded like a peace offering. Again, the famous Clark-smile appeared on his face that made it impossible to stay angry. He had always had this effect on me, even before I had fallen in love with him.
"Where would I want to go?" I repeated as I reluctantly decided to play along. "Somewhere with the sun, a beach and the sea..." I said dreamily, and immediately began to imagine living on a desert island with my old Clark. I saw the two of us on the beach, playing in the waves, soaked to the skin but incredibly happy. My imagination was like a cheesy movie. The kisses were borrowed from a distant past, when Clark had still been the lovable, green reporter.
"Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter to me where I am, Clark" I suddenly heard myself say. "It’s the person I’d spend my honeymoon with who matters - the right man." I looked at him seriously and discovered an amused smile on his lips.
"Who would have thought that Lois L. .." He managed just in time to swallow my last name, obviously remembering where we were. "... is a true romantic." Clark sighed theatrically and looked at me again with that mischievous expression that literally took my breath away. "And yet you haven’t had a single date since Lex," he added quietly, flashing me an anxious glance.
I rolled my eyes. "Are we actually talking about this issue again?" I asked indignantly. "I had dates, Clark."
"Oh yeah? With whom? Lenny Stoke? I hardly think that he counts as a date,” Clark protested, shaking his head.
"Mind you, I even have a date at this very moment," I said pointedly.
Clark choked and started coughing. With a certain satisfaction I watched him struggle for air. Even so, I felt tears burning in my eyes. How dare he? How dare he suggest a date with another man, as if this did not matter to him any more than my buying a new pair of shoes?
<You could at least pretend you were jealous>, I thought sadly as I eyed him over the rim of my wine glass. Clark coughed one last time and calmed down again. I shot him a venomous glance he probably did not even notice. He could at least have the decency to embarrass himself in front of everyone, if he spurned my feelings like that.
"Have you cheated on me, Clark?" I hissed, staring daggers at him. I was determined not to let him off the hook, not until he told me all there was to say.
"What?" he gasped and suddenly paled.
"You heard me," I replied coldly. "Do you have a mistress, a girlfriend to sweeten the lonely nights?" I put my glass down on the table, so hard that it rattled.
"That ... that question cannot possibly be on your list," Clark choked out and looked at me pleadingly. Did he seriously expect me to laugh and confess that I had just been kidding? I relentlessly pushed my list of questions towards him.
”When you’re done reading, you can also answer the sub items, Clark," I added and watched as beads of sweat appeared of my partner’s forehead. He scanned the list several times and eventually had to acknowledge that I had every right to ask these questions. "Given your dates with Mayson I'm assuming that your answer to my first question is ‘yes', isn’t it?" My own heart clenched painfully, because I was not sure whether I was willing to bear the consequences.
With trembling hands Clark handed the list of questions back to me. It took a while before he looked up from his plate and faced me. He looked really awful, at least as miserable as I felt. No wonder he had not wanted to take this assignment. But then Clark seemed to gather his composure and leaned back in his chair.
"I broke up with Mayson, Lois," he said hoarsely. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but I understood him clearly. "We dated a few times, but that was all we did." Clark's lips became thin with tension. He audibly breathed in and out. His eyes were fixed on me as if there was no one else but me in this restaurant. "I certainly wouldn’t call her my mistress," he added roughly.
Utterly confused, I looked at Clark. I had seen him with Mayson, had seen their kisses. Clark had dated her only yesterday. Had he actually told her to get lost? I could hardly imagine. After all, he was crazy about that girl. Had it not been her driving him into the shower?
"Oh yeah? What else has she been to you, Clark? I really didn’t think you were so much into one-night stands," I replied, angry that he actually thought he could deceive me. "Although – haven’t you been with Cat?" I added scornfully.
"No," Clark said through clenched teeth. "I didn’t sleep with Cat or with Mayson, for that matter." Then, suddenly Clark jumped up and stormed off. I did not suppose he was heading for the restroom again.
Taken aback I watched my partner leave. That Mayson had not succeeded in seducing Clark was beyond my comprehension. She had been trying really hard. However, that thought did nothing to comfort me. If they had waited, she had been more to him than a woman to have casual sex with. Though I liked the idea of Clark not sleeping around, I was devastated. This had to mean that he had loved Mayson in a way, he would never love me. That was worse than I had ever dared imagine. But then why had he broken up with her? Or had she left him and now his male pride would not let him admit that?
I was still busy staring at the door through which Clark had left the restaurant, when a smiling waiter approached the table.
"With regards from the chef," he said exuberantly, serving a delicious smelling chocolate mousse. "Will your husband be back?" His smile was friendly, yet anxious and not quite genuine. Perhaps he was afraid Clark and I would ruin the success rate of their couples therapy. What would he say if he learned that we were not even married?
"No, I don’t think he’s coming back," I said with genuine regret. "He didn’t feel well." I wondered why I even started inventing excuses for him. Had I really sunk so low? "The food was really tasty," I said for good measure, before I dipped my spoon into the mousse. The waiter gave me a warm smile before he slipped away.
Finally, I was alone with this dream of chocolate. The taste was so comforting that all of a sudden I realized how unhappy I really was. Tears filled my eyes and another spoonful of dessert was the only thing that kept me from breaking down completely. I do not think I had ever needed chocolate as badly as I did now, not even after almost marrying Lex Luthor. Did Perry know what he had asked of us, assigning us on this story?
to be continued
