TOCThe More Things Stay the SamePart 3
Clark flew directly into his bedroom, hoping his absence hadn’t been noticed. Lois had spent much of the night tossing and turning. He’d been able to hear her restless shifting and had debated with himself on going to check on her. She was supposed to be resting. But if she was awake, perhaps she would want to talk.
But then, how would he explain knowing that she was awake? She hadn’t said anything about Superman since she’d awoken in the hospital, but it stood to reason that if she didn’t remember their life together, she probably didn’t remember his alter-ego either. Or, if she did, she didn’t remember that he was him.
He’d already messed up by revealing that they were married too soon and none too gently. He felt like he should save the I’m-an-alien-who-moonlights-in-tights bomb for another day when she was feeling better and had a better grasp on her own life.
Before he could decide whether or not to disturb his restless wife, he’d overheard a police radio announcing a four-car pile-up on the freeway. He had hoped that Lois would settle down and fall asleep while he was gone. As he spun out of his suit, he listened for her and was surprised to find that her restless shuffling had moved downstairs.
He x-rayed through the floor and sighed. She was downstairs alright – with every photo album and scrapbook they owned spread out on the floor around her. Sliding his glasses back into place, he headed out to join her.
“Lois?” he said as he walked into the living room. “What are you doing? Are you alright?”
Lois glanced up briefly and then went back to scanning an old newspaper – one of her front-page articles from her early years at the Planet the second time around. “I’m fine,” she muttered distractedly. “Just fine. I… what is this?” She waved the newspaper at him, frowning in confusion.
Clark bit back another sigh and carefully picked his way through the scattered books and papers. Crouching next to her, he carefully took the paper she held and laid it on the couch. “This is an excellent piece of journalism.”
“Right, but when did I write it?” she asked. Clark opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. “I mean, I know when I wrote it. I can read the date. But I don’t remember writing it.”
“Lois, you hit your head. There are a lot of things –”
“I know. I know I don’t remember the last three years. But I should remember this!” She lifted the paper again and reached for another one. “And this! And that!” She gestured wildly to the certificate on the wall. “Clark! How do I not remember that I won a Pulitzer?”
“The doctor said there would be gaps –”
“I know! When they told me it was 1996, I knew I’d forgotten a lot, but I thought it was just those three years. I thought I remembered everything else from before. It was all so clear. It’s still so clear. I remember writing this!” She held up a different article, dated around the same time as the one she first been holding. “But I don’t remember that one. Why?”
“I don’t know, Lois. Look, why don’t we put all this away for now and we can go through everything together when you’ve had some rest. Maybe after you see your therapist tomorrow?” Clark suggested but Lois was already shuffling through papers, looking for something else. She finally pulled out a photo album and opened to the first page. Clark sighed as he recognized what was there.
“And what’s this?!” she poked a finger at the photograph of two kids at the Smallville Fourth of July Celebration. “That’s me! I’m like ten or something. But this… is that you? It’s you, isn’t it?”
Clark didn’t know how to respond. How could he explain that she wasn’t only missing three years but twenty-two? He hadn’t even told her he was Superman. How could he explain H.G. Wells and time-travel and soul-jumping?
Lois turned the pages of the album. “This whole book is full of us! You and me! Where is this? I don’t know this place.”
“It’s my parents farm, in Smallville.” At least that question was easy to answer but she’d already moved on.
“Is this prom? We went to prom together? How is any of this possible? I only met you three weeks ago!” She paused and shook her head. “Three years and three weeks ago,” she said slowly and closed her eyes. “I remember bursting into your interview. I was looking into the Messenger story but Perry wanted me to do some mood piece about a theater. You ended up doing the theater story and Perry hired you. Then he partnered us up on the Messenger story. I remember all of that. That’s how we met. I’m sure of it.”
Clark wracked his brain for the right words, the proper way to explain without confusing her even more. He opened and shut his mouth in a few false starts, certain that anything he said would only make things worse.
“I’m not crazy.” Lois said firmly, apparently taking his silence the wrong way.
“No! Lois, no.” He moved the album to the side and took both of her hands in his. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” Pausing, he made a quick decision to put this off for now, if she would let him. “I think… you’ve been through a lot. You’re still healing and things are going to be confusing for a while.”
“This isn’t confusing, Clark. It’s incomprehensible.” Lois stood up and waded through the piles to find a clear spot where she began pacing. “I know what I remember but all of these pictures and articles are painting a completely different picture. It’s my life but it’s not. It’s like my brain didn’t just forget things – it created alternate memories to replace what I forgot. Is that possible?”
Clark shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. I just think you need some rest and we can look at it all again when you’re feeling better – maybe after you see your therapist.”
“No. I need to sort this out. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I do. There’s something I’m missing here. Some kind of pattern…”
Clark watched helplessly as his wife paced, running her hands through her hair and randomly stopping to stare at an article or flip through a few pages in an album. He didn’t know what to do. As much as he wished for her memories to suddenly just click back into place, he knew that was unlikely. She needed sleep and time to heal. Maybe it would have been better if she’d gone to a special care center…
He squashed the thought almost as quickly as it appeared in his mind. The doctor they’d consulted for a second opinion hadn’t felt it was necessary. But then… the doctor didn’t know Lois’ proclivity for needing to figure things out and digging her teeth in and not letting go until she –
“Got it!” Lois suddenly stepped back over her piles and returned to her seat on the floor next to Clark. She retrieved the photo album with their pictures from childhood. “I got it.” She said again, smiling. “There is a pattern. It’s you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. See?” She pointed at the picture of them in Smallville. “I don’t remember this, or this.” She turned a few pages. “Or any of these. I can’t remember any of the moments we supposedly spent growing up together. But I remember plenty of times when you weren’t there. And –” she grabbed a different album and flipped through till she found what she was looking for. “You were my date for the Pulitzer award ceremony. That explains why I don’t remember that. And the point at which my memories completely cut off is shortly after you and I started working together at the Planet. So obviously my mind has chosen to block you out almost completely. The only question is – why?”
Clark blinked. Once again, he found himself amazed at her ability to connect dots and make leaps in thought that were, usually, mostly correct. The only problem here was that she was missing some vital information and he still wasn’t sure how to explain that part to her or even if he should. She might think he was crazy.
Abruptly, Lois stood up again and put some deliberate distance between them. She was frowning and studying him seriously. Clark suddenly felt like he was under a microscope.
“Why, Clark?” she asked quietly. “Why did my mind block out anything that has to do with you?”
Something in her tone was almost accusatory and it seemed like a wall was coming up between them. Clark slowly rose to his own feet and tried to approach her but she backed away. He sighed.
“Lois… you hit your head.” He was starting to sound like a broken record but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrow. “How did I hit my head anyway?”
Clark was startled by her question. “They didn’t tell you?”
“They told me I fell off a ladder. But what ladder? There aren’t any ladders here.”
“It was in a sewer.”
“What was I doing in a sewer? Was I chasing a story?”
“No. You’d been kidnapped by Luthor.”
“Luthor? Lex Luthor?” Lois looked incredulous. “The kidnapping part I buy – it’s not the first time I’ve gotten into more trouble than I should – but Lex Luthor? He’s a philanthropist.”
“He
was a crime lord. We exposed him and he’s been in and out of prison ever since.”
“Wow. Really?” Lois sighed and flopped onto the couch. She seemed less apprehensive but Clark figured it was best to give her some space and he settled into the chair across from her.
“I guess I’ve got some catching up to do when I go back to work,” Lois muttered to herself. Then she turned back to Clark. “How did I get away?”
“From Luthor?”
Lois nodded.
“Superman saved you. He sent you ahead to the surface while he dealt with Luthor. That’s when you fell.”
“Superman…” Lois whispered in a dreamy voice. Clark blinked. He hadn’t heard her say it like that since… well since before she knew he was him. He bit back a groan and decided to change the topic.
“Lois… it’s late. I know there are still so many questions and not enough answers. But I promise that we will go though all of this in time. Please. You need to rest.”
As if to confirm his statement, Lois yawned widely and leaned back against the couch. “Maybe you’re right.” With a heavy sigh, she pushed up from her seat and looked around. “I guess I should clean up this mess.”
“I’ll do it.” Clark said before she could start picking up. “You just head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lois nodded and headed upstairs to the guest room. Clark watched her through the ceiling. Once she was settled in bed, he super-sped through tidying the living room and went back to the master bedroom.
The bed was cold and lonely. He missed his wife. He wished he knew how to help her or even simply what he should and should not say. Hopefully things would be easier in the morning.
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it was for a story on amnesia research and its practical application to junior reporters?
Michael