Thanks as always to Kelly, Beth, and Carol for all their help!
If this week goes as planned, I hope to get the next part posted on Tuesday, but I'm not sure I'm not delusional in thinking that work is going to slow down…
By the way, for those of you outside of the US, there is an obscure reference in here. It's not that important, but just in case, I thought I'd point it out. There is a game show here called “The Price is Right” (I think it's still on, but not sure) and the host of the show is a man (or was a man?) named Bob Barker. Not sure why he is so well known, but he is and you will see a small reference to him in this chapter. Honestly, it's not important, it was just the name that came to me when I was naming a new character.
From Chapter 32
“You were a city boy,” I laughed.
Clark sighed. “Not really. I love Smallville. I think it was the perfect place to grow up and I can't imagine my life without the farm in it. But I never felt like I belonged there. When I was in high school I thought it was because I was different. But now… I don't know. I don't feel that way here. I know I'm different, but it doesn't make me feel like an outsider.”
“You're not,” I told him. “You're more human than almost anyone else I know.”
“Thanks, Lois,” he said quietly. “You have no idea how good that is to hear.”
“Should we go?” I asked.
Clark nodded. “Are you ready?”
“For what?” I asked him.
“For our next front page story,” Clark grinned at me.
“You know what?” I asked as we got up. “I think I am.”
Chapter 33
October 1995
I took a deep breath as I picked up the phone. I could do this, I knew I could. I suspected, although without talking to him I had no proof, that Chad was waiting for me to make the first move. So, I was going to do it. We couldn't keep living this way – it was time to make this permanent and stop avoiding each other.
I dialed the number quickly as if I could get this over faster if I did. It rang twice before he answered. “Hello,” he said into the phone, sounding subdued.
For a second, I said nothing. I'm not sure what I expected – had I thought I had forgotten what his voice sounded like? If I had, I was sadly mistaken. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl now, talking to her crush. My heart was beating wildly and I had the strangest urge to hang up the phone.
“Hi,” I finally managed to choke out, hoping that he would recognize my voice from that one small syllable as I was suddenly not sure I could say anymore.
There was a pause while Chad seemed to try to go through his database of voices to place me before I heard the sigh. “I didn't… I don't know. I wasn't expecting you to call,” he finally said, and I realized that he had recognized my voice, but like me, was finding it hard to speak.
“Maybe we should have set a date for talking again,” I said softly.
“Does this mean… Are you ready?” Chad asked quietly.
“Ready?”
“You're calling to make it official, aren't you? You want a divorce,” he said. His words were simple and straightforward, but there was a strangled quality to his voice that let me know he wasn't any more ready for this than I was.
I took a deep breath. “I don't know that I'm ready,” I admitted. “But I feel like we're living in limbo. I'm ready to move forward. I'm ready to have you in my life again, even if that's just as a voice on the phone. And if that means I'm ready for a divorce, then maybe I am,” I said, breathing hard as I finished. I meant every word I said, but that didn't mean that I didn't find them difficult to say.
“I miss you,” Chad said softly.
“I miss you, too,” I replied.
For a moment after that we sat in silence before I asked the question I wanted to know most: “Are you happy?” I thought I knew what the answer would be – it was why we were in this situation to begin with. Part of me, a large part of me, who had always wanted nothing more than to see Chad smile, hoped he'd say yes. But another part, the small, selfish part that wanted my old life back was hoping for a no. I could feel her – my devil-me, sitting on my shoulder with her fingers crossed.
“I miss you,” Chad said again in reply. “But… yeah, I think aside from that I'm happier here than I was in Metropolis.”
The little devil-me uncrossed her fingers and slunk off my shoulder. Strangely, the little angel-me didn't feel satisfied either. She was weeping on the other shoulder. I felt that anguish so strongly, I actually looked over to see if there was a little me on my shoulder. There wasn't of course, but that didn't change the fact that I could feel her.
“I'm glad,” I finally managed to get out. It was true. I was glad – even if my heart was breaking at the same time.
“You're doing well,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I see your name on the front page of the Planet almost as much as before.”
I gave a small laugh. “Honestly,” I admitted, “that's all Clark. Until about a week ago, I was barely doing any work. I did some writing – all of which Clark edited heavily before it was fit to print.”
“What happened a week ago?” Chad asked.
I took a deep breath. “I realized… I realized I missed myself almost as much as I missed you. I felt like I was going through the motions of life here, but I wasn't invested in it. I felt lost. And I decided to do something about it. I'm still not really… me again, I guess, but I'm getting there.”
“What part of you is not you?” Chad asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
I paused while I tried to find the right words to say. “The part that's… Lois Andrews, I guess. I feel like so much of me is with you that it can't be here.”
“But you're ready to move forward anyway?” Chad asked, his tone curious rather than challenging.
“I think we have to, don't we?”
“Maybe,” Chad said, his voice so quiet I could barely hear him now.
“I think I need to become Lois Lane again,” I said, my voice just slightly louder than his.
“I like Lois Lane,” Chad said quietly. “I fell in love with her when I was sixteen.”
“And she fell in love with you,” I whispered back.
“But now…” Chad's words trailed off.
I took a deep breath before saying the words. “I think now it's time for her to be on her own.”
“I think so, too,” Chad said, tears audible in his voice.
“So…” I said, eager to get this conversation over with, but not sure what to say. I wanted to keep talking to him, but this was too painful.
“So,” Chad said giving a little laugh. “I don't know what to do now. Do we call a lawyer?”
“I guess,” I said quietly. “Should I do that? I presume it will be hard to find someone in Smallville.”
“Should we look for recommendations?” Chad asked.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It would be good to deal with someone who has experience – particularly with amicable divorces.”
“But who do we know that could help us?”
I shrugged before I realized that Chad couldn't see me. “Maybe Clark?” I said. “He knows all sorts of people as Superman.”
“Good divorce lawyers?” Chad asked, laughing.
I laughed, too. “I don't know. But even if not, maybe he knows someone who could help us locate one.”
“I guess,” Chad said. “It's not like we know anyone else.”
We lapsed into silence for a second. “I love you,” Chad whispered.
“Me, too,” I said back, feeling the tears gathering in my eyes.
“Should we talk tomorrow after you've had a chance to talk to Clark?” he asked.
“Okay,” I said softly, finding the words hard to get out again.
“Good night, Lois.”
“Good night, Chad,” I said before I placed the phone on the cradle. Then I sat back against the couch cushions, holding Pooh tightly and crying silent tears.
************************
November 1995
It had been a busy month. Clark had not known any good divorce lawyers, but he had used his connections as Superman to find us a good recommendation. I wasn't completely clear on how his connections as Superman helped, and frankly I thought it was just as likely that it was his connections as the affable Clark Kent that did it, but I didn't ask. I tried to spend as little time as possible thinking about the divorce, the lawyer, and everything else related to separating myself from Chad.
It wasn't an easy task. It turned out that even in an amicable divorce there were lots of things to consider. For example – how to split up the bank account. I thought we should just split it 50/50, but Chad insisted that wasn't fair since I had left him almost all our joint possessions. I felt like we had more than compensated for that by using the joint account to pay for my new furnishings and stuff in Metropolis, but Chad didn't agree. Our lawyer, a man by the unfortunate name of Bob Barker, said he had never seen a couple fight for the other side so vehemently before.
So, we were still settling things. Plus, Chad insisted on buying me out of the house in Smallville. I mean, I knew Chad's salary would be better than mine once he finished residency, but he was hardly raking in the dough now. And who knew if that was really even true if he stayed in Smallville? I imagined doctors there weren't as well paid as those in Metropolis. Even if the cost of living was less there, I wasn't sure that he would be doing as well as if he had stayed in Metropolis.
Basically, I just wished he'd stop insisting on taking care of me. It worried me that he was not taking enough time to make sure he had what he needed.
The other thing that was busy was work. For some reason that I didn't understand – or more accurately, I didn't care enough about to understand - the Kerth Awards had been postponed this year until just before Thanksgiving.
Personally, I felt like this had little to do with me. I had done hardly any noticeably good journalism in the past year. Still, I had been included on several pieces of Clark's that were possibilities. And in fact, in the end, three pieces of his were nominated – which I had to begrudgingly admit was a record. I had once had two pieces nominated in one year, but never three. Actually, since I was on two of Clark's pieces for this year, I had two nominations as well.
I had agreed to go as Clark's date to the awards – both because, well, why wouldn't I, and because I actually thought one of our joint pieces stood a good chance of winning. The original article in the series of rescue workers with the person from Colombia was nominated as well as the article we had just recently finished where Clark and I (okay, mostly Clark) had found the link between John Praught and Art Hadley, the Democratic and Republican front-runners for next year's election. The article had destroyed the careers of both men and sent both parties into a tailspin as none of the remaining candidates seemed that strong.
Perry and Alice were going as well – Perry was invited anytime one of his reporters were nominated, and surprisingly, Cat was attending. While I was gone she had written a small article on the Metropolis Police Department. While small, it was a strongly written piece – even I could see that, and it had been nominated under local news.
So, there was a small contingent of Daily Planet people going and Perry was sure we would come home with at least one Kerth. Clark, who had never been nominated for a Kerth before, was incredibly nervous. I couldn't seem to make him see that he stood a better chance than anyone of winning with three nominations – he had turned into the self-conscious boy I imagined him being as a teenager when his powers first developed.
So, it was no surprise when he showed up at my door a couple of hours before we were supposed to meet in the lobby of the hotel where the awards were being given.
“I know, I'm being silly,” he said when I opened the door.
“Yes,” I laughed at him. “You are.”
“Which tie?” he asked as he came in, holding up two bowties – one plain black and one that was more Clark – some crazy pattern of blue, green, yellow, and orange that was hard to describe. Where ever did he find some place that would even offer that tie to go with his tux? What dress would it even match with?
“That one,” I pointed to the crazy tie hoping it would give him confidence to have me pick a style of tie that I normally teased him about.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” I laughed at him. “You know, Clark, the award is for your writing, not your clothes.”
“I haven't won an award,” he said as he slipped the tie around his neck and moved to put the cummerbund on.
“Not yet,” I said, patting his arm as I passed him on my way to the bathroom to finish applying my make-up.
“Do you want to go to dinner?” Clark appeared behind me in the mirror.
“Sure,” I said as I applied eyeliner.
“You look nice, Lois,” Clark said, smiling at me warmly.
I smiled at him in the mirror. “I guess you've probably never seen me all dressed up before, have you?”
Clark shrugged. “I don't know. You always look nice. But you look different tonight. More relaxed.”
“It's the make-up,” I told him.
“No,” he shook his head. “I noticed it when I first came in. The make-up is nice, I guess, but you don't need it.”
“That's sweet, Clark,” I told him as I made my way past him. “You look good, too.”
“I'd look better with the black tie, wouldn't I?” he asked with a smile.
“Um… you'd stand out less,” I offered.
“In a good way,” he grinned.
“I don't know. You'd be less Clark, I think, so no, not in a good way,” I told him as he led me out the door.
We went for dinner at a restaurant on the way to the hotel. It was relaxed, but different than other meals we'd shared before. While we spent many dinners together, we rarely went out except for when we went with Chad and Rachel. Sometimes we'd go to lunch together, but that was to much more casual places than the restaurant we went to that night.
Something about the nice restaurant and being all dressed up made this feel different. It felt… well… like a date.
Still, despite that, it was comfortable. The fancier surroundings and nicer clothes didn't change the comfort level between us. I was still having dinner with my best friend. We laughed and talked over dinner. It was fun. We somehow managed to avoid topics that brought us back to Chad or Smallville at all and so for a few hours, I was just me. Not Lois Andrews – about to be divorced, but just Lois Andrews. Or maybe Lois Lane since Lois Andrews would be unlikely to be here without her husband. I didn't know. I still hadn't figured out the difference between Lois Lane and Lois Andrews yet.
************************
“So, are you ready?” Perry asked as we joined him at the Planet table.
“Ready for what?” Clark asked as he helped me with my coat and handed it to one of the passing attendants.
“For your first Kerth,” Perry smiled.
“We haven't won yet, Chief,” Clark continued to be clueless about how likely he was to win at least one Kerth.
“You will. Maybe even more than one,” Perry said.
“Did you see the other articles that were nominated?” Clark asked. “I don't stand a chance.”
“Did you struggle through English classes or something as a kid?” I asked him, wondering where all his self-doubt came from. Clark didn't answer, but he did look a little ruddier than normal. “You did, didn't you?”
“Well, I wasn't the best writer,” Clark mumbled and I laughed.
“Well, you've certainly improved, son,” Perry said, clasping him on the shoulder. “You're a shoo-in tonight.”
“Hello, hello, hello,” Cat called out as she joined us.
“Hey, Cat,” Clark smiled.
“Everyone, this is Matthew Wilde,” Cat introduced us. “Matthew, this is Clark Kent, Perry White, my editor, and his wife Alice, and Lois Andrews. We don't like her,” she smiled.
“Good to meet you all,” Matthew said. “Well, except you, Lois.”
I laughed, “Yes, well, it's a displeasure to meet you, too.”
My good mood lasted through the time of the awards, and I was still laughing when we took our seats. All in all, it was a good night for the Planet. Cat won the local news Kerth and an article Clark wrote on the Coates Orphanage beat out our joint article on the rescue workers for human interest. His surprise at winning would have been a little sad if it wasn't so funny.
There was a break in the ceremony before the main award – the one for international level news - was awarded. Cat and Clark had identical looks of awe on their faces looking at their first Kerths. “Congratulations, you two,” I said as the noise level in the room increased slightly.
“I know this is old hat for you,” Cat said, but I cut her off before she could finish.
“No, it's not. It's an amazing honor,” I told her.
“Thanks, Lois,” she smiled at me.
“Come on,” I grabbed Clark's arm. “Let's get you a drink to celebrate.”
Clark nodded, still seeming awed by his win, but he followed me and we both grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray. “Are you having fun?” he asked.
“I am,” I told him and was surprised to realize it was true.
“I'm sorry we didn't win for our joint article,” he said.
“I'm not,” I told him. “The orphanage article was a better story.”
“You're being very gracious tonight,” Clark smiled at me and I smiled back. It was true – my time in Smallville had softened my killer instincts or something. Or maybe it was just that all the time with Clark since I had come back made me want to see him happy.
There was a slight tapping noise over the din and when I looked up at the dais I realized they were about to start again. “We should take our seats.” Clark nodded as he placed a hand lightly on the small of my back and we made our way back to the table.
After a few minutes of people shuffling back to their seats, the emcee resumed his place behind the podium and announced the nominees for international news. I thought Clark's story, or our story, on the election was a good one, but I also had read the other nominees and wasn't as confident as I'd like that we'd win. It was the biggest of the stories nominated, but Reggie Hiller's story on a governmental aide using the British Prime Minister's diplomatic visits to smuggle opium into England was well written and not exactly small news.
Perry, though, was smiling at us encouragingly and clearly thought we had a good chance of winning. Clark, looking a little nervous, reached over to grab my hand. You'd think winning a Kerth earlier would have boosted his confidence, but I think he actually may have jumped off his chair when they called our names. I squeezed his hand when he looked over at me and then we got up together.
It was my fourth Kerth. The first one where Chad was not by my side. I thought that later that might feel weird, but at that moment, I was too caught up in Clark's excitement to really process it.
Things went back to purely social shortly after Clark and I got back to our seats. Some tables cleared out immediately, but Perry insisted we all stay and share a bottle of champagne to celebrate our success. Clark kept looking at the two awards in front of him in awe (they were made of plastic as the real ones weren't engraved with our names until after the ceremony and mailed to us later, but I remember thinking the plastic version of my first Kerth was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen).
It was an hour later that we all piled out of the hotel, happy and a little tipsy. “Want to walk home?” Clark asked me.
“Sure,” I agreed. It was a nice night out and the walk wasn't that long. Besides, the cooler air would help clear my head. I wasn't drunk, but three glasses of wine and two glasses of champagne over the last several hours was more than I was used to.
We walked in silence for a few minutes and it felt relaxed and comfortable.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” Clark said quietly.
I smiled. “I had to come anyway. I'm not sure if you're aware, but I was nominated, too.” I held up my plastic Kerth to demonstrate my point.
“I know,” Clark said. “Still, you were great tonight. I know I was sort of ridiculously nervous. I can't imagine going through that without you.”
“Well, you don't have to,” I told him. “I'm your best friend. You can count on me to help with things like this.”
Clark placed a hand on my arm. “I know. And I appreciate it. Really.”
“I know you do,” I said, my voice dropping slightly. “You know, I owe you. You've been there for me for the past several months, and I know that was a lot more work than helping you pick out a tie.”
“It wasn't work,” Clark said as we both stopped at a corner to wait for the light to change before crossing. “I enjoy being with you, and I'm glad that my being around has made this time easier to get through.”
“I enjoy being with you, too,” I said, turning to face him more fully, and moving closer to give him a tight hug. “You're a good friend, Clark Kent,” I said as I turned my head to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.
I started to back away and I could see Clark start to respond to me when something happened. I don't know what. I have no idea. One minute Clark was about to speak and I was moving out of his arms and the next we were moving closer together. For a moment it seemed like we both stood still and then…
************************
I nearly ran home, tears streaming down my cheeks. When I first crossed the street I had heard Clark calling after me. I heard him apologize. But I couldn't stop running. I didn't want to see him. Talk to him. What had I done? Or had he done? How could we have done that?
Eventually the sound of his voice stopped. I was sure he was flying above me making sure I got home okay, but at least he had stopped calling after me. I couldn't talk to him right now. How could I?
How could I have done that? Or let him do that? I still wasn't sure who had instigated it. It didn't matter, though. My divorce wasn't even finalized yet. I was still married – to a man I was still in love with, even if it turned out we wanted different things out of life.
How could I have kissed Clark? What was I thinking?
My litany of thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when I reached the top of the stairs and my doorway was in view, though.
Standing there, with a suitcase in hand, was Chad.
