As I entered the bedroom, I realized that I would have some time to myself to fix up Clark’s old telescope. I didn’t have any polish, of course, and I couldn’t think of an excuse to give Clark to go trudging around outside in the barn looking for some either. But there was an old flannel shirt lying near the box that looked way past its prime, which I thought might do the trick – at least to clean it.
I sat at Clark’s desk and slowly started wiping away years of grime from the smooth, cool surfaces of the telescope. My thoughts started drifting as I worked, remembering when I had first met Clark and how I had completely misjudged him. I just hadn’t trusted his good looks or his naïve charm. And I realized that Superman had shown me some of those same qualities, and yet, I had immediately and implicitly trusted him. How could I have not seen that they were the same person?
The telescope was looking much better, and though I really had no experience with such things, I found this one fascinating. I suppose it was because it belonged to Clark. How often in his youth would he look through this telescope, wondering where he came from? What did he know about Krypton, and how did he learn the name of his home planet anyhow?
And why did it seem to me that while Clark being an alien explained a lot, I actually felt more comfortable with him? I had always been on the outside I suppose, in many ways. The pain of my broken family had pushed me to be ambitious and singular, in all its varied definitions. I wanted the singular achievement of a Kerth Award. I wanted the singular triumph of being the most successful reporter at the Daily Planet. I wanted the singular interview from the Man of Steel… and all these ambitions had left me singularly successful and yet also, singularly…single.
Not just in the sense that I didn’t have many boyfriends, but even with my peers I had often been alone. No one had understood me until Clark came along. And despite how atrociously I had behaved, he had become my friend. And I have come to value that friendship above all else in my life.
I have dreamed of being the love of Superman’s life, but I knew that loving him was pure fantasy, as he had seemed so unreachable and impossible to get close to. But Clark Kent was a real man –who happened to fly around in tights saving the world. Surely the real man underneath the suit wanted more? Wasn’t that the reason he had donned the disguise in the first place? To have a life?
It made sense to me, but I knew only Clark himself could explain it to me. Yet he seemed reticent to divulge any more of his heart to me, fearful of the knowledge that I already possessed about him. How to earn his trust? How to show him that I cared about him – that I –
“Love him?” I said aloud to the quiet solitude around me, those words sending a frisson of pleasure and fear through me. I had held back from Clark, and even attacked him, all in an effort to fight what I found admirable and attractive about him. But if we both laid our vulnerabilities on the table, could we find a way to each other?
How does he feel about me? I wondered. There was an attraction between us, sure. But Clark being Superman could complicate things. He had put upon himself a duty to help the people of the world, and maybe that didn’t leave a place for someone to love… or could it mean that love could give him strength to continue doing what he did?
The telescope looked presentable now, and I sighed as I laid it back in the box, weary of my musings. I had felt something with Clark from the start, though had done my best to keep a wary distance. And I had thrown myself at Superman… if he felt something for me, I could only hope that we’d find a way to each other.
~L&C~
It was Christmas Eve morning… I stretched as I got out of bed, and could see the sun was reflecting brightly off the snow just outside the window. It was a golden white, as far as the eye could see… In Metropolis, I had only seen patches of white, like in Centennial Park. This expanse of it across the country horizon was entirely breathtaking.
I put on a robe and headed downstairs, my heart pounding at the thought of talking to Clark again. I wanted to tell him how I felt about him, but I was so nervous about how he’d interpret it. I had to prove to him that my feelings were genuine, and weren’t simply a result of my Superman infatuation.
As I came into the living room, I didn’t hear him in the house. “Clark?” I called out.
“Out here, Lois,” came his reply from the front porch.
He was standing on the porch, his eyes closed, washed in the pale golden yellow of the early morning sun. When he heard me approach, he turned to look at me. “I don’t know what it is, but the sun… it’s like it is recharging me somehow.”
“Are your powers back?” I asked gently, fascinated at seeing him standing with his shoulders thrust back in his t-shirt and sweatpants without his glasses, a mix of Clark and Superman.
He reached for his aforementioned glasses on a side table by the swing. “Yeah,” he answered, putting them back on.
I let out a laugh, stating the obvious. “Clark, I know who you are. Why are you still wearing your glasses?”
He cleared his throat, “Lois… it’s not just a disguise. The glass is made from lead so I don’t accidentally use my powers as Clark… it’s kinda like a safety on them.”
“But you would never hurt anyone with your powers, not on purpose,” I said assuredly.
“No, of course not,” he bristled, seeming uncomfortable with the topic. “But I’ve worn them so long as Clark, that… I just feel more comfortable with them.”
“I guess I can understand that,” I responded, though I barely did understand. I wanted to, but I guess it is simply too difficult to fathom what it must be like for him on a daily basis. Perhaps I would never understand, but I was game to try. “So, are we going to do some baking today?” I smiled, hoping to lighten his mood.
“Sure. Let’s have breakfast and get dressed… and then we’ll make some famous Kent Christmas cookies.”
Was it bad that I just wanted to see him in that adorable apron again and could give a fig about learning to cook?
“You’re on, partner.”
~L&C~
An hour later we were standing in his mom’s kitchen. Clark, as advertised, was wearing the adorable apron and a tight black t-shirt. Seriously, my partner should come with a warning label, he looked so delectable.
Every time he brushed by me, my heart went into my throat, and what was more surprising, was that this actually was not a new occurrence. I had just never paid attention to it before. I had so suppressed my attraction to Clark, afraid of getting too close to him --and if I am honest, afraid of him breaking my heart – that though I had felt those jolts of attraction before, I had always chosen to ignore them.
And though I now acknowledge that I was attracted to him, I knew that he could still reject me, or say that being Superman didn’t allow him to have a relationship with anybody. Or any number of things… but I knew he felt something for me. There is absolutely something there, and I felt desperate to explore it.
I watched him expertly crack half a dozen eggs into a bowl.
“Grab the flour and sugar in the cabinet, would you?” he asked casually, turning the knobs to preheat the oven.
I got both and returned to where the bowl of eggs was lying on the counter.
“I can’t believe you’ve never baked cookies before, Lois,” he said, clearly amused.
“Well, I mean, I’ve tried… they just usually don’t turn out so well…” I admitted, remembering several failed baking attempts, usually around the holidays. I’d either burn them or not add the right amount of ingredients. Sometimes I’d manage to make a batch that was salvageable, but more often than not, I’d end up getting store-bought cookies.
“Well, the secret is having the right balance of ingredients… and timing.” I watched as he measured out the flour and sugar and then tossed the ingredients into a bowl.
“Don’t you need a mixer?” I asked, happy to prove my competence by pointing out a fact that he had missed a step.
He glanced over at me with a smile, and winked at me. I was so distracted by that little charming move, that I almost missed his hand in the bowl, mixing the ingredients himself with his super speedy finger.
“Isn’t that kinda… messy?” I said, not sure how I felt about his um, technique.
“No, my hands are clean. And it is a lot more efficient than using a mixer. I can easily tell when the batter is ready. Okay… did you grease the cookie sheet?”
Oh, right… my one task. I handed him the greased sheet. “Lois, I told you it needed an even coating,” he chided gently. He took out the Crisco tub once again and a paper towel, folding the towel and dipping it into the grease. “Like this. You have to cover the whole sheet, or you’ll end up with some less than perfect cookies.”
“Heaven forbid,” I grumbled at Mr. Perfect, enjoying him enjoying teasing me.
He chuckled, a warm sound that reached in and squeezed my heart. “Sorry. You do want to learn how to make cookies the right way, don’t you?”
“Fine, Clark. I get it. The whole sheet needs to be greased. What’s next?” And do you know that I am totally in love with you and I don’t care one whit about learning to baking cookies? I stood next to him, with my arms crossed, almost afraid I’d reach out and grab onto him and never let go. Emotions were roiling in my heart, but I knew now wasn’t the time to deal with them. I just needed to try and relax and enjoy hanging out with Clark. The rest would come…at least I hoped so.
“The fun part,” he grinned, handing me some cookie cutters. “I’ll roll out the dough, and then you can cut them into these little shapes, okay?”
“I think I can handle that.”
I watched as he rolled out the dough, the ripple of his biceps endlessly fascinating to me. I thought of how strong he could be as Superman, and yet how gentle as Clark. The contrasts were amazing, and yet, I realized the balance of how to be gentle versus when to use his powers had been instilled in him growing up on this farm, learning to do chores and helping his mother bake cookies. His parents had taught him so much, and I believed his innate goodness had only enhanced those lessons. I felt my throat go tight watching him, either with awe or love, I wasn’t sure.
As we made cookies, I was able to banter and tease with him verbally, but inside, I wondered if he could sense what was going on. My heart was pounding every time I was near him, or when we would brush past one another. He’d glance at me, and I could swear he saw more than just my cooking mistakes. His eyes seemed to soften, and then he’d make an easy comment about how to get more cookies out of the batter or something.
I realized after about the second batch of cookies, with the warm sugary smells lingering in the air, that he was being this way on purpose. He was essentially trying to make me comfortable and perhaps even to forget about Superman for a while. He seemed to sense that I was stressing over the whole thing. Perhaps he thought I was worried about knowing his secret. He had no idea that I was just – completely in love with him.
I knew then that I had to tell him. He had to know how I felt. He had to know that I didn’t think of his secret as a burden, but as a cherished honor. I would do anything for Clark, and I needed him to know that.
A few hours later, we sat listening to Christmas carols on the radio eating cookies and milk companionably.
“You make it look so easy,” I said, dipping another cookie into my milk glass. “I don’t think I could cook these half as well in my kitchen back in Metropolis. I’d never remember all the steps.”
“Well, I can help you make them anytime you want,” he answered generously, and I suddenly had an image of him in his tights and cape baking cookies. It made me smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing… just, you are full of surprises, Clark Kent.” I had meant it as a compliment, seeing as how I had repeatedly stated in the past that he was like an open book. But somehow I had made him uncomfortable. “I just mean… I wish I had taken the time before, to learn who you are. I mean, not just about Superman—“ I sighed in frustration, feeling like I couldn’t get the words right. “I mean you. You are a really, really…nice guy Clark.”
My words weren’t adequate, and I found it ironic that while being a wordsmith was my job, when I needed to express what was deep in my heart, words were failing me. I looked down at my plate, just full of crumbs now.
“I appreciate that, Lois.” He said it in soft tones, his warm brown eyes trained on me. But I felt some distance, like he meant it as a friend. And I realized my words had sounded like someone who wanted to be his friend, too. But I wanted so much more. I just didn’t know how to tell him.
“The cookies were really good,” I said to fill the silence.
“Well, you helped. Here, I’ll take care of the dishes.” I handed him my plate and watched him head into the kitchen.
I was feeling so silly, and so uncertain as to where we stood. Partners. Friends. Secret keepers. Those were all important words. They meant varying levels of trust and friendship. But the word that I wanted for us--- relationship? Dating? Lovers?—was still elusive. I felt in my heart that there was something strong between us, but I worried that my own behavior and Clark’s seeming reluctance to trust me, would keep those labels at bay.
Let’s face it. I had never been good at relationships anyway. My last one had been a federal disaster with Claude. I had let him walk all over me, swept up by his European charm. And I never had really learned to open up to anyone. Even the men I had slept with, they only knew a small side of me. I realize now that Clark was the first man to ever try to get to know the real me. And yet, my armor of sarcasm and insults had perhaps ruined any real chance I had had to be with him.
I heard the porch door close and immediately called out Clark’s name. It was dark out now, and we had plenty of firewood in the house. What could he be doing?
I went into the kitchen and peered out the back window. I saw Clark, a shadow on the snow, heading towards the barn. His head was lowered, and I wondered if he was x-raying the snow to find the buried kryptonite. Why he wanted to deal with that now was beyond me.
I saw him trip, and he called out my name.
I didn’t hesitate, but ran to the hall closet to get my coat and a flashlight, and scurried down the snowy steps.
“Clark! What is it?” I called, running across the lawn to him.
“The kryptonite… was it sealed in the box when you buried it?”
I tried to think back, to remember that awful night. “I—I’m not sure, why?”
“Because I can feel it is nearby…” His gaze shifted across the yard, and he nodded his head towards the right of the barn. “And I can see it over there, under the snow. The lid is slightly open.”
I glanced over to where he was looking, but I couldn’t see anything. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get the shovel in the barn. I need you to dig it up, close the lid, and I’ll dispose of it.”
“Why do we have to take care of it tonight, Clark? Why not deal with it in the morning, when we can – I can see better?”
He looked at me, his voice sounding apologetic in the cold night air. “I haven’t slept well, knowing it’s out here,” he said quietly. “Please, Lois. For me?”
“OK, sure, Clark,” I said, suddenly hating Trask all over again for torturing Clark with that rock to begin with. Of course Clark was worried about it. I had put it out of my mind, occupied with other things, and I suddenly felt selfish for not realizing that just having the kryptonite nearby had to be a mental stress on Clark.
I headed into the barn to get a shovel. No matter how irrational the fear, I kept expecting Trask to pop out at any second. I whipped my flashlight around the barn, fearing the shadows I lit upon, searching for the shovel. When I found it, I quickly headed back over to where Clark was standing.
“I can’t get any closer, or I’ll start to feel the effects of the kryptonite. I’ll be your eyes, okay?”
I nodded and followed his instructions until I came to be standing right over the spot where I had buried the kryptonite. I shoveled away some snow, and sure enough, I saw the eerie green glow staring back at me. I leaned down and immediately closed the lid, horrified that I had been so careless. Clark was suddenly at my side, as Superman.
“Thanks, Lois. I’m going to take care of this. Go on back in the house… I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, automatically slipping into his more authoritative voice.
He took the lead box and flew off into the night sky. I looked up into the vast heavens, lit by a million stars, but he was already gone.
But I wasn’t worried. I knew he’d be back soon.
