<<< Chapter Thirteen >>>
The swim park had been a bit cold this late in the year, but fun nonetheless. Despite her fair complexion, Rebecca didn’t sunburn easily as long as she worked up to longer exposures over a couple of weeks and remembered her sun block. And so far, this Saturday had been one of the best in her memory. She was still surprised at Clark’s awkwardness in the water, but after she thought about it, she realized that his powers made what would be basic swimming skills for someone else totally useless to him. Still, she could tell he’d enjoyed her love for the water and her abilities afloat. Her favorite move had been popping up in front of him inches from his face, grabbing his neck, and yanking him under the surface. Those kisses had been some very memorable wet ones.
And the day wasn’t over yet.
Rebecca stepped back as Clark unlocked his apartment and snapped him on the rear end with her towel. He jumped as it popped against his backside and he turned to grab the towel before she could retrieve it. He pulled her into a hug, which she turned into a long soft kiss, which he returned with less enthusiasm than she would have preferred.
She pulled back and forced a smile up at him. “I really need to change clothes, Clark. Let’s go inside.”
He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. She looked around and nodded. “Oh, I really love what you’ve done to the place!”
He frowned in confusion. “I haven’t done anything to it lately.”
She shook her head and chuckled. “I know, Clark. I was joking.”
“Oh. In that case, ha-ha-ha, giggle, guffaw, and chortle. Not to mention chuckle and tee-hee. That was most amusing.”
She lifted a sardonic eyebrow for a moment, then picked up her clothing bag and headed for the bathroom. “I got first crack at the mirror! Maybe I can brush this mop into something resembling neat.”
“Okay. I’ll fix a snack for us.”
“Something light, I hope. I can’t eat anything heavy for at least an hour.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I’ve been swimming. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to eat anything for at least an hour after you go swimming?”
He looked at her totally innocent expression. “Oh, you’re just full of them today, aren’t you?”
“I’m full of something. Now get to your snack fixing and I’ll get to my hair brushing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed as she skipped into the bathroom. Today had been a very good day so far – and she hoped it got even better.
*****
He couldn’t help it. Her pixie laugh made him smile. And she was fun to be around. Rebecca was a party waiting for a place to happen, and she wasn’t particular about the location or the guest list.
He was so very glad that she’d recovered so well from being shot, even though she’d carry the marks of her injuries for the rest of her life. And he knew that her one-piece swimsuit not only fit her most flatteringly, it covered the scar on her abdomen that she might not ever show to anyone who didn’t already know about it.
She was young and alive and beautiful. She was smart and talented and so very full of life. And he was sure that if he asked her to marry him, she’d tackle him and say “yes” so many times she’d deplete the oxygen in the room.
Did he love her?
He thought about that question as he prepared a veggie tray for them to nosh on while they watched a video. He compared her to Lana, and he decided that there wasn’t any real comparison. They were two different people, and it wasn’t fair to either Lana or Rebecca to decide that one woman was better than the other in any way. He’d loved Lana. She had died. He had grieved for her for more than a year. Was he ready to move on?
Yes, he decided. He was ready.
Was Rebecca the one? Was he ready to move on with her? Was she the one he could marry and plan to spend the rest of his life with?
His smile faded. That one he wasn’t so sure about.
Rebecca was beautiful and fun and vibrant. She was brilliant and driven to succeed. She was going to make a difference in the world someday.
She’d already made a difference in Clark. He’d cut down on his patrols at her urging, despite Ultra Woman’s hints about needing a little help now and then. She’d never asked him not to respond to any emergency situation, but she had discouraged him from looking for additional ways to help, saying that he needed more time for himself. The fact that “more time for himself” usually translated into “more time with Rebecca” hadn’t struck him until just now.
And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that little realization either.
He thought about Lois. He thought about how he felt when he was with her, how his spirits would lift whenever they were together or when they communicated mentally. He thought about all the things they’d shared over those months when he was so emotionally fragile, how she’d helped him and supported him and yelled at him and treated him like a real person instead of a super-powered mannequin. He thought about how she’d gained a copy of his powers and how she’d trusted him to teach her how to use them. And he thought about how well she’d worked with him despite their differences.
He mused about the way she’d proclaimed her independence from him as a super-heroine with that costume that looked like a star map tattooed on an exotic dancer. He thought about how they’d argued about so many things, both trivial and vital. He pondered what his life might be like if they were together.
It startled him when he realized that he loved Lois Lane. He loved her fire, her zeal for the truth, her crazy mixed-up way of working through a story and coming to the right conclusion. He loved her smile, her laugh, her soft eyes and her easy way of working with him on super-jobs. He even loved the way she’d been hesitant to embrace her powers at first, that she had feared – unrealistically, of course – that she wouldn’t be able to do what he did, or at least not nearly as well.
And then he thought about how much Lex loved her.
He couldn’t put himself between them. Even though Lex Luthor wasn’t his favorite person in Metropolis, he’d forced himself to get to know the man better, and he’d finally admitted that Lex wasn’t a horribly evil troll just because he cared about Lois so much. If they got married, Lois would never want for anything, including a husband who cared for her so deeply that it was a little intimidating to those who’d never loved anyone like that.
And Clark realized that if he really cared for Lois, he’d want her to be with the man she loved. Even if it was – ew – Lex Luthor.
And even if the man she loved wasn’t him.
He shook himself and finished loading the tray, then poured two tall glasses of soda with a modicum of ice. Rebecca would be coming out soon, and he wanted her to feel at home.
Until he pulled the rug out from under her, of course. He hoped she’d land softly.
*****
Rebecca opened her bag and pulled out a hairbrush, then looked in the mirror and sighed. She’d have to wash it before she styled it, and there wasn’t time for that. She was going to make her big move on Clark today. The poor boy wouldn’t know what hit him.
In the spirit of Bonnie Raitt, she planned to give their friends something to talk about. Maybe Clark would dance with her again, like he had way back when they’d first met at a Dangerous Boys work session. Over the months they’d known each other, she’d been intrigued by him, then attracted to him, then impressed by him, then in love with him.
And now she knew he was also Superman. It was almost overwhelming at times, but he was human enough to be vulnerable to her. Lana had proved that.
She pulled out the shirt she’d planned to wear, then her eyes fell on the stack of towels on the rack on the far wall and an even better idea invaded her mind. The one on the bottom – yes! It was large enough to wrap around her and small enough to make her intentions plain. She pulled it out and held it up, bit her bottom lip in thought, then decided to go for broke. Clark would have to notice her once she walked out of the bathroom wearing that towel and nothing more. They might not get to that snack he was making, either, but in life some sacrifices must be made.
The thought made her giggle.
Then she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. It had to have fallen out of the towel or off the rack when she pulled the towel out, but she couldn’t imagine why it was there.
She picked it up and began reading.
*****
Hello, Darling!
I love you. I know I've told you that a thousand times, but I really, really love you. If there were anything else I could say to tell you that I love you, I'd say it. I'd write it down on the back of every envelope we'll ever buy and make you go buy some more so I could write it again!
Oh, I know I’m being silly. I know I'm going on and on again. Seems like I do that every time I try to write to you. But I can’t help it. And even though you're a far better writer than I am, and a better speaker, too, I just had to put these thoughts down on paper. I love you so much!
We’ve had so little time together lately, what with you starting at the Planet and me at the museum. We flash past each other in the morning and meet up at dinner time. And sometimes when I wake up late at night or early in the morning and I reach over for you, you're not there. Oh, I know why you're not there. I know Superman has to be out in the world saving lives and stopping crime and rescuing kittens and so forth, but I still miss you. I hate having to share you with the whole city. Is it really so bad to be jealous of an entire metropolitan area? If so, then I’m really, really bad, worse than some of the criminals you catch.
But I love it when you come back home. Sometimes when you come back to bed and I'm holding your pillow and you try to ever so gently take it away from me and I wake up – I'm not asleep, I'm just waiting for you. And then I pretend that you woke me up and I slide over close to you and snuggle up against your incredible manliness and pretend that I forgot to put on my underwear and it's way better than sleeping!
But I wanted to tell you something else, something I've never really said to you. At least, I’ve never been able to say it very well. You know how much I want to be a successful archaeologist. You know how badly I want to make my dad proud of me. Not that he's ever put any pressure on me to do anything particular except to excel in whatever profession I choose, but I still love him and I want him to be proud.
But I love you more. If I had to make the choice, I'd put down all the digging tools and the subscriptions and the journals and leave the museum and follow you wherever you wanted to go. Do you want to wander the world and write about it? I'll go with you and take care of your mail. Do you want to move to California and become a movie actor? I'll go with you and help you with your makeup and even be your agent if you want. Do you want to play professional football? Pick a team and it'll be my favorite. I'll cheer for you to win every game, score all the points and be the best player in the league. I’ll even learn what a punt is and why you’d do it. And I'll mail out all the press releases myself. I’ll be the best agent and cheerleader you could ever have, too.
You gave up so much when we moved to Metropolis, and I know you did it for me. Sure, you got a great job at the Daily Planet, and you’re investigating the bad guys and reporting the news, which is what you’ve wanted to do with your life for so long, but you could have done that just about anywhere. You came with me because of my situation, because of my career, and I don’t believe I’ve ever told you just how much that means to me. You sacrificed for me and I love you so much for that.
I don't think I'm saying exactly what I feel about you. Elizabeth Barrett Browning put it like this in her sonnet, and I don't think I could do better in a million years.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! – and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
I can't put it any better than that, Clark. You're the man I want to grow old with. You're the man I want to father my children. You're the man who holds my heart in his hands. I love you.
I know that you'll probably outlive me, and that means that you'll probably have to watch me die at some time in the future. I'm sorry. I don't ever want to leave you, but I know I probably will, and I’m pretty sure that you won’t take it well. That thought is driving this letter. I want you to find it someday when I'm gone and know that I expect you to find a nice woman and marry her. Assuming, of course, she's not as beautiful as I am. And she'd better not be a better lover than me either!
I'm kidding. I'm sure any woman who could attract your attention enough for you to think about marrying her will be a wonderful woman. I'm sure she'll love you and support you in all your super-duties at least as well as I ever could. Or will. Or have. Maybe even better than me. No, almost certainly she’ll be better than I ever could be.
This is the fourth draft of this letter and I'm still not satisfied with it. I'm writing this one in the bathroom while I'm waiting for you to come back from a fire in the bad part of Metropolis, I think. The rescues kind of run together for me after a while, and I'm sorry that I can't always remember where you've been or where you're going in the flashy suit. And I'm sorry that sometimes I get jealous over Superman and the amount of time he takes you away from me. It’s just so hard for me to share you with the entire world! Sometimes I feel like a military wife, one whose husband is constantly getting no-warning one-day duty assignments out of town. I’m selfish and I want you all for myself, for me alone, all the time. But I think I’m getting better at understanding that it can’t be that way. I just hope it’s enough.
I'm sorry that I'm not that good at comforting you when you've had a tough rescue. I'm sorry that I still can't find the words to say to make you feel better, to help you know that all the good that you do is worth doing, even if you don't think it’s enough. I wish I could help you understand that you doing good is more than anyone else could do, and even if you can’t save the whole world, you can save a pretty big piece of it.
But most of all, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to know that I'll stand by you and support you as long as I have air in my lungs and legs that will hold me up. I will hold you close and kiss you and brush the soot from your hair and wash your suits and I may even let your mother teach me how to sew them.
But most of all, my darling, I love you.
I will always love you.
Your loving wife,
Lana
*****
Well.
No towel. No fancy movie vixen tricks. No seduction or proposal today.
Probably not ever.
No. Definitely not ever.
Rebecca loved Clark. She did! Really. But try as she might, she couldn’t imagine ever writing anything like this to him. Lana was – just unbelievable. She wondered if she would have liked Lana, then decided no, she would have hated her for being so perfect.
And she would have been so very jealous of her.
For that matter, she was still jealous. If that letter was any indication, and if half the stories she’d cajoled from Clark were true, Lana had been a terrific wife to him. And even though Rebecca loved Clark and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she knew she didn’t have that kind of unselfish love for him – maybe not for anyone. She knew that she’d keep trying to reduce his Superman time and increase his Rebecca time, and she knew that she’d keep on trying as long as they were together.
She knew that Superman was a vital part of Clark’s life, but she didn’t want to think of herself as Mrs. Superman. Apparently Lana hadn’t minded it all that much, but the thought of trying to comfort Clark after a bad time at a rescue all but terrified her. She hadn’t considered their relationship in those terms before, but Lana’s letter had torn down that veil and forced her to see the truth – that she loved the idea of being Clark’s wife but hated the idea of being Superman’s wife.
And that wasn’t fair. Not to Clark, not to the people he could save if he wasn’t with her, and not to Lana’s memory. For that matter, it wasn’t fair to her. If she were the only person to have Superman in her life, she would be selfish and cruel to everyone else.
And she couldn’t do that, not to herself or to Clark. She just couldn’t.
If Clark married again, he’d need to marry someone who would be a wife, a friend, a lover, a supporter, someone for whom he could be a husband, friend, supporter, and lover. Someone not like herself, who loved Clark but also wanted her own life and didn’t mind sharing him with the world. Someone like –
Someone like Lois.
The thought stunned her for a long moment, then it resolved itself into a best case scenario. Clark should marry Lois, and not because she was Ultra Woman. Lois was strong enough to stand up to him while she supported him in all of his endeavors, and she was secure enough to accept his help and support for hers. And it would eliminate any problems about Superman making his wife jealous of Ultra Woman. Or vice versa.
It was almost too bad that Lois was involved with Mr. Luthor. She’d be a great wife for Clark. Not only would she love him unreservedly and support him in everything he did, she’d never let him get away with being anything but the best reporter or hero or man he could be. Lois Lane would have been perfect for him.
And Rebecca Connors wasn’t Lois Lane. She couldn’t be. It wasn’t in her to be anyone else.
Rebecca sighed. Now that that was settled, all she had to do was get out of his life and make room for whoever should be there. The penguin study offer couldn’t have come at a better time. She’d go there, he’d stay here, and in the long run they’d both be better off.
She only hoped that he appreciated all that she was giving up for him.
She dug out her phone and quietly called for a LexCorp car to take her home. It was one of the perks she’d miss when she went to Antarctica, but she wouldn’t miss it all that much.
Not as much as she’d miss Clark in her life.
She refolded the letter and put it back in the bottom towel. Maybe someday Clark would find it and read it and smile as he remembered Lana.
As long as it wasn’t today. Rebecca hated losing, and she knew she’d already lost to Lana. Losing to a dead woman can really put a crimp in your day.
*****
Clark was getting nervous.
Rebecca had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes. He was tempted to check on her to see if she was okay, but he figured she was trying to get ready for some kind of big entrance.
And that thought made him even more nervous. A big entrance would probably signify a big moment of some kind. Maybe she was putting on a special outfit of some kind, something which would give him a special message. An unmistakable, clear, unambiguous message. Like with flashing neon lights around her head and a big banner wrapped around her body with a very specific question on it.
He stopped and shook himself. As attractive as Rebecca might be wearing only a cloth banner, he didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to envision her that way.
And he didn’t want to marry her. He liked her – a lot – and he got along with her very well. They could disagree without arguing most of the time, and when they did argue it was usually about issues and not personalities. As he mentally reviewed the time since he’d met her, he realized that she’d grown and matured in her outlook on men in general and on her life prospects in particular. She’d gone from being afraid of imperfect relationships to understanding that relationships were always works in progress. She’d learned to deal with her past issues and had come to grips with her limitations. He admired that about her, and they’d come to be good friends.
But he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of his life with her. She was, and would probably always be, determined to get her way and be more than just a little bull-headed about getting it. She’d probably always do what she had to do to further her career and trail her relationships in her wake. As her husband, he’d always have to take second place to a pod of orca in the central Atlantic or a research project in Malaysia or the penguin study in Antarctica she’d been offered. As a mother – that didn’t bear thinking about, especially not now.
He knew about the offer she’d received to lead the field research team for the penguin study. She’d left the offer letter on her dining room table the week before, and Clark had read half of it before he’d realized that this wasn’t the first communication she’d had with the foundation funding the research. He’d recognized the name from the Superman Foundation grant request list. They’d applied for supplemental funds and had been turned down because their mission didn’t fit the Superman Foundation’s parameters for funding, but the directors had managed to match them up with another source of funds, which, ironically, was Lana’s organization, Digger Enterprises. The people who wanted Rebecca were reputable, they were established and they were serious about who they wanted to work with.
That letter wasn’t an initial offer. It was part of the negotiations for her to come on board and work with them. And Clark wasn’t sure he was willing to play second fiddle to a colony of emperor penguins.
He frowned at himself. No. He was sure. He wasn’t willing.
He’d been okay with Lana traveling for her career, though. The difference was that he knew that he’d been Lana’s top priority. Even if Lana had been asked to unearth Atlantis and get all the credit and the money and fame that would have come to her, she would have involved Clark in the decision to take that job. And even though Lana hadn’t begun their marriage involving Clark in such decisions, he had no doubt that she’d grown into that mindset before she’d died.
He was equally sure that Rebecca wouldn’t fully involve him. She’d leave detailed notes or give him a full explanation of where she was going, why she was going, how long she’d be gone, and how to contact her, but she’d make the decision on her own without any input from him – without any thought of how his life might be turned upside down. He had no indication from her that her attitude would ever change.
And he couldn’t make a life with a woman who’d do that to them, who was willing to scramble their lives in such a cavalier fashion. He’d have to tell her that the couldn’t be together, let her down easy –
Yeah. Like that was going to happen.
*****
It was time.
She had to exit the bathroom now. Her hair was as brushed as it could be. Her wet swimsuit was wrapped in her towel – not the one she’d briefly planned to wear – and she was dry and fully dressed. She had to face him and tell him that although she loved him, she didn’t love him enough to commit to marrying him. And she had to make him understand that she’d never, never, ever even hint that she knew who Superman was in his civilian life. Or that she even knew that Superman *had* a civilian life.
She opened the door and hesitated. “Rebecca?” she heard him call. “Are you okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay.
But she would be. And so would he.
One of Bonnie Raitt’s songs popped into her head, just not the one she’d hoped to hear. Not one of the fun and peppy ones, either.
Bonnie sang in her head as she looked at the man she’d almost decided to marry.
Turn down the lights, turn down the bed
Turn down these voices inside my head
Morning will come and I’ll do what’s right
Just give me till then to give up this fight
And I will give up this fight Except for the part about the bed, it fit.
“Hi, Clark.”
He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “I was starting to get worried about you.”
She glanced at the floor in front of her. “And you never considered looking through the door to check on me in case I wasn’t suitably attired.”
He frowned. “Something like that, yeah.” He stepped toward her but not close enough to touch. “Is something wrong?”
She lifted her face and caught his eyes with hers. “Would you marry me if I asked you to?”
His mouth dropped open for a moment and he goggled at her, then got himself under control. “Wow. Where did that come from?”
Now she really wasn’t okay. If he’d wanted to marry her he would’ve said so.
But at least, now, she knew the truth.
And it hurt.
I can’t make you love me if you don’t
You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t
Here in the darkness in these final hours
I will lay down my heart and I’ll feel the power
But you won’t, no, you won’t
Cause I can’t make you love me
If you don’t She licked her lips and glanced to one side. “I’ve been wondering if you were going to ask me or if you were waiting for me to ask you. But now I know.”
He licked his lips. “Rebecca, I – “
She lifted her hand. “Please don’t, Clark. I wouldn’t marry you now even if you begged me on bended knee.”
His brows drew down. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t, actually. Because you don’t love me enough to marry me. And please, don’t protest. I’m not sure I love you enough either.” She shook her head again and tried to smile. “I know I don’t love you like Lana did.”
“That’s not a fair comparison, Becca. No one expects you to be another Lana, least of all me.”
“I know that. And that’s not what I meant.” She turned and took one step toward the front door, then stopped and turned back. “You talk about your future, you listen to me talk about my future, but you don’t talk about our future together. I don’t think we have one. What do you think?”
He hesitated. “Well – I – I guess I – maybe we – “
She’d heard enough. “That’s what I thought. Look, you stay here and – and decide how to spend your life. I know you’ll make the right decision. And don’t worry about me getting home. I’ve already called a LexCorp company car to take me back to my place.”
“What? Wait, no, please. At least let me take you home.”
She shook her head again. The tears wouldn’t hold back much longer and she couldn’t have him around to comfort her when they burst out. “Not necessary. I’m really disappointed, of course, but I guess I brought it on myself. I chased you even when you let me know you weren’t all that eager to be with me. This is more my fault than yours, Clark. Please don’t feel guilty.”
He looked smaller somehow, almost deflated, like all the happy had somehow leaked out of him. “I – I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry, and that’s so lame.”
She tried to smile. “But I know you really mean it, so it’s really not so lame. Besides, I’m sorry too.” She turned and headed for the door. The dams behind her eyelids were near collapse and she had to get out of there. “Please don’t call me for a few days, okay? I need some time to myself.”
He didn’t answer. She opened the door and stepped through, then pulled it almost closed. Knowing that he’d hear her, she whispered, “Goodbye, Clark. Have a great life.”
The door latched and she pointed her footsteps toward the elevator, wondering if she were the weakest, the most fragile, and absolutely the dumbest woman who’d ever lived, or if she were one of the strongest and wisest. Maybe she’d figure that out in a few years, assuming she could get past the pain of today.
She wasn’t okay. But she would be.
There were penguins waiting for her. And she was sure she wouldn’t disappoint them.
And they wouldn’t disappoint her.
*****
Clark sat on the living room floor. This is a truly messed-up day, he thought. Rebecca breaks up with him and he gets slammed in the face with a reminder of Lana at the same time. What was he supposed to do now?
He stared at the floor, not really seeing it, for long minutes, while he tried to think of nothing. He tried to focus on the wallpaper pattern, without success. Then he tried to extend his hearing to pick up a sports event of some kind, but no one seemed to be broadcasting a game in the city.
Nothing really worked. He needed to talk to someone. But who?
Duh, Clark. When in trouble, talk to your parents.
He jumped up, grabbed his cordless phone, hit the speed dial for the Kent farm, and floated to the floor.
His mother answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mom, it’s me. Clark.”
“Well, howdy, stranger! Long time no hear from you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. My life has been a little crazy lately.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In fact, that’s kind of why I called.”
“Okay. Is this a situation we can deal with over the phone or do you need to come out here?”
He chewed his lip for a moment, then said, “I think I need to come see you and Dad.” He glanced at the clock. “Can you handle another place setting at dinner?”
“Sure! I’ll even whip up some apple pie. No store-bought pie in my house, just fresh and home-made!” He heard her hesitate, then ask, “Um, is Rebecca coming too? You know she’s welcome any time.”
It was his turn to hesitate. “No. She’s not coming. And that’s actually part of what I need to talk over with you and Dad.”
“I see. Or, rather, I suppose I will see. You just take your time. Dinner will be on the table about six-thirty our time. And since it’s Saturday evening, we can stay up with you for a while. We’ll have our ears on, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom. I guess I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”
==========
“I Can’t Make You Love Me” © 1991 by Mike Reid and Allan Shamblin – recorded by Bonnie Raitt on the album “Luck of the Draw”
See Bonnie's video
here.
