To Clark's surprise and growing frustration, George opened their next session with a long series of questions about his Superman work over the last couple of months. Not just any work, though, but the rescues which had gone particularly well, or the people who'd been especially grateful for his help. Then Clark had to tell George about his work at the Planet – but only the stories which Clark thought had actually served the community in some way. Finally, Clark was taken through the last couple of months with Mayson – only the fun times, of course. What did he think Mayson had got out of the relationship? Yes, he was forced to agree, she did she enjoy his company. Mostly, at any rate.
“George, I can see the game you're playing here, but what's the point?” Clark exclaimed eventually. “Yes, the past few months haven't been a total disaster, but they sure as heck ended in disaster. One crisis, and it all goes to hell again.”
“The point, my friend, is that if you did it once, you can do it again. The point is that you made a success of your life,” George replied, his voice growing in volume with each sentence. “The point, Clark, is that you are not a failure.”
Clark snorted.
“Yes, I know that you like to think you are. In fact, it's convenient to think that, because then you don't have to get off your butt and do anything about it,” George said. “But I'm here to burst your bubble, buddy. You are not a failure. You just made a mistake and we've already figured out how you're going to avoid making any more.”
“We have?”
“Yeah. We established that you need to avoid crises in your relationships and that a good way of doing that is to let people know what your boundaries are. You're going to find a balance between trying to forget Lois completely and allowing yourself to remember her now and then. So you've got just about everything you need to go out there and start living again.”
“Gee, George, why didn't I think of that? Maybe I'll check myself out right this minute and be on my way,” retorted Clark.
“Not a bad idea, Clark.” George paused, then continued more softly. “Look, I just want you to realise that you've made a lot of progress since you first came here. You've done really well, and this is just a blip on the chart. A fairly big blip, I'll give you that, but it sure as hell isn't the end of the world. Okay?”
Clark sighed. “Okay.”
“In fact, I want you to remember one of these good things every time you get a negative thought about yourself. Give me one now.”
Clark rolled his eyes. “I fixed Mayson's leaky taps in her bathroom.”
“Nah, you had better ones than that. Give me another.”
“I caught the guy who's been terrorising the prostitutes around Hobbs Bay.”
“There you go!” said George. “See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?”
Sometimes the guy was worse than a nagging teacher. “No, George.”
“Good,” said George. “So now that I've stopped you thinking like a loser, let's talk about widening those boundaries of yours a little.”
“At last!” said Clark. “I thought that's what we were supposed to be talking about all along – not successes and positives and all that rubbish.”
“Yeah, well, I needed to get that rubbish, as you so eloquently describe it, in somewhere. It's on the shrink's list of patented cures for addicts.”
Clark laughed. “Okay, so you got it in. Now tell me what I really want to know.”
“Okay, well let's take a look at the boundary which stopped you having sex with Mayson. Leaving aside that whole guilt trip thing about not wanting her to realise that you don't love her, because we now know that you already had a good idea that she knew that, why didn't you really want to have sex with her?”
Oh, boy, George really didn't beat about the bush when he'd made up his mind to investigate yet another dark corner of Clark's psyche. Clark hunched his shoulders. “Because I didn't love her.”
“Whereas you loved all those other women you slept with, yeah?” said George.
Clark sighed. “No, but that was different. I was half out of my mind when I was with them. Besides, even then, I...I didn't exactly feel great afterwards.” Tears rolling down his cheeks, trying to hide them from his lovers by keeping his head buried in the pillow and pretending he was more overcome by their lovemaking than he really had been.
But George already knew all that so he really didn't feel elaborating on that particular nightmare again.
“So was it because you didn't love her,” asked George. “Or because you were afraid of how you'd feel afterwards?”
He frowned. “I guess...if you put it like that, then it was really the latter. Mostly. Also because I actually liked her and didn't just want to use her like all those other women.”
“So would you ever be prepared to have sex with a woman you didn't love, if you knew you weren't likely to feel bad about it afterwards?”
To his surprise, Clark discovered he wasn't sure he knew the answer to that one. As a virgin, sex had been a mysterious undiscovered country – somewhere he really wanted to visit, but only if he was completely sure he wanted to go there. Now that he'd been there – been a regular visitor, in fact – it didn't hold the same mystery. There was no fear of the unknown...sex was no big deal, in fact.
Love-making was the new mystery. He was certain there was a vast difference, and one day, he wanted to experience it. Whether Mayson would be the woman he discovered it with remained to be seen.
In the meantime, was sex outside love unthinkable?
“No,” he said, then realised George's question had been phrased the other way around. “Yes.”
George laughed. “You sure about that, Clark?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I guess I could.”
“You guess you could?” exclaimed George. “Jesus, Clark, I wish I had your self-control.”
Clark couldn't help smiling. “Mind over matter, George. And believe me, it helps if you're as messed up as I am.”
George laughed again. “Okay, maybe I'll just live with my urges. One of us has to stay sane.” He clapped his hands together loudly. “Right! We're starting to break down one of your boundaries quite a bit. We're on a roll. So answer me this – why do think you cried after sex?”
Oh, God. Why did George always have to do that? He'd woo Clark into a false sense of security, even get him exchanging a little banter, and then he'd hit out with the really hard stuff.
“We already discussed this,” he said.
“Yeah, but I've got a terrible memory,” said George. “Tell me again.”
“Because...because I wanted it to be Lois,” he said quietly.
“And will it ever be Lois, Clark?”
It was the impossible question. Yes, she was missing. Yes, she'd been gone for years. Yes, the chances of surviving that long in a country like the Congo was practically nil. But there was no body. No death certificate. No nothing.
He felt George's hand on his shoulder. “Tough question, huh, buddy?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“I still need an answer,” said George. “Sorry, but this only works if you keep talking to me.”
He closed his eyes. “I don't know, George. Until I see some definitive evidence that she's dead, I'll never know.”
“But can you afford to put your life on hold until then?”
“No,” he whispered. “I can't.”
George patted his shoulder. “Balance, Clark. Keep working on that balance.”
“Yeah.”
“And remember what we said if, by some miracle, she were to return?”
Clark sighed. “She might not like me anyway.”
“Exactly. So keep remembering these things, and then maybe you'll find sex and even love-making becomes easier for you.” George chuckled. “It's not that I'm trying to turn you into some kind of promiscuous sex maniac, by the way. It's just that, for you, the problems you have in this area are at the crux of the wider issues you face.”
“Okay.” Clark forced a weak smile. “It's all right, George, I won't turn into some kind of caped Casanova.”
“Phew,” said George. “Okay, I think that's enough for today. Has Frank seen you yet?”
“No.”
“I think he wants to do some final poking and prodding and then he'll probably sign you off. If he's satisfied, then I think we could send you home tomorrow. I take it you'd be happy with that?”
“You bet.”
“Okay. Tomorrow we'll look at ways of including Lois in your thoughts at a level you're comfortable with, and we'll do some work on coping strategies. Bet you can hardly wait, huh?”
“I'm already counting the hours, George.”
*****************
Clark unlocked the door to his apartment and swung the door open. Home sweet home. And another home-coming after illness. He walked inside and closed the door. No Scrabble board on the coffee table, this time, of course. Just his empty apartment, looking exactly as he'd left it a couple of days ago.
He wasn't sure why he expected it to look any different, really. He hadn't been gone that long, after all. Maybe it was because he felt different. He'd been through hell and back several times over the past few days, and in a weird way, now felt as if he'd been rebuilt from scratch. It was a bit of an anti-climax to discover everything else in the world had remained exactly the same.
He jogged down the stairs to his lounge, hardly glancing at the spot on the carpet where he knew George had found him. But yes, he looked long enough to see that everything was all cleaned up – Alice, probably, when she'd dropped in to pick up a few things for his stay at the clinic. He owed her so much. Perry too.
Coffee. He needed coffee. He dropped his bag on the floor and walked into the kitchen.
So, he thought as he began pulling out all the stuff he needed, the last time he'd returned home he'd been pretty unsure of himself and his ability to cope alone. He'd been jobless, had still been taking hits every other day, hadn't flown in the cape for ages, and hadn't met Mayson. Things were different this time. He was starting from a more secure base, and this time, he was going to make it work. No overdoses, no crises he couldn't manage, no obsessing. Just balance, ever-widening boundaries, and a healthy dose of positive thinking.
Yup, the new model Clark Kent wasn't going to be a dependent. He was going to make other people depend on him.
George had said it all when he'd pointed out that Clark couldn't afford to put his life on hold while he waited for Lois to turn up. Clark had learnt the hard way exactly where that attitude led, and he really didn't want to revisit that particular living hell any time soon. Even more so, he didn't want a repeat of the last few days, which had to rate as some of the worst in his entire life.
So, armed with a battery of tips and tricks from George's arsenal of addiction-zapping strategies, and a good deal of new self-knowledge, he was going to start up his life again – and this time there would be no looking back.
******************
“So how's the new guy working out? Ralph, wasn't it?”
Clark held his editor's gaze across the desk and watched the guy shift awkwardly in his chair as he searched for a palatable reply. “He's okay...there's raw talent there...it just need a little shaping...”
“Oh, come on! He's a disaster and you know it,” said Clark. “He should be writing a gossip column someplace, not chasing down serious stories for a quality newspaper like the Planet.”
His editor frowned. “Clark, you're in no position to criticise other members of staff. At least I know when Ralph is going to turn up. He doesn't call in sick at a moment's notice.”
“Oh, so you think people should plan their illnesses in advance?” said Clark. “Okay, let's get this sick thing out of the way. I was off for four days, and out of those four days, only one was actually a day when you expected me here. Even if I'd been working full-time, four days off sick isn't a big deal – someone with the flu could easily be off for that long.”
“But how do I know it won't happen again in a month's time, Clark? Ralph's been here for three months and never had a day off yet.”
“And how much useful work has he done in those three months?”
“He's learning,” said his editor.
“And how do you know he won't fall sick with something long-term tomorrow and start taking weeks off at a time?” added Clark.
“I don't, but-“
“He's still on probation, isn't he? You haven't confirmed his appointment yet, have you?” said Clark.
His editor squirmed again. “No...”
“Okay, so here's my suggestion,” said Clark, pressing home the small advantage he'd gained. “Hang on to Ralph for now, but don't confirm his appointment. Give me half his assignments and then in a month's time you can compare our work. It won't cost you much more than you're paying me now, and you can even compare our attendance records. Then you make an informed choice – keep the rookie reporter or employ me - the seasoned investigative reporter this paper really needs.”
Clark couldn't quite believe he'd just said all that. He'd never sold his own talents so aggressively before, nor fought for a job so competitively. But he was determined to get back into real life again and start doing the things he knew he was good at.
Eyes were raised across the desk. “Clark, I never knew you had it in you. Although I guess anyone who wrote the kind of stuff you used to produce has to have some kind of determination. You just hide it well.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed his reporter evenly for a few moments. Then he nodded briefly. “Okay, Clark, you got yourself a deal. You can start next week.”
Clark grinned triumphantly. “Thanks! You won't regret this.”
****************
It was amazing how, after that first success, everything else began to slot into place. He picked back up on his Superman work and discovered to his relief that his four day absence from the skies hadn't been much noticed. Luckily, there hadn't been any major accidents while he'd been at the clinic, otherwise his failure to turn up might well have caused people to lose faith in their superhero. He was under no illusions that their previous forgiveness for his weaknesses would extend indefinitely.
Which was another reason why he had to make things work this time around. He wasn't going to get a third chance.
******************
He stared balefully at his phone. It had been lurking there for days, daring him to pick it up. Today, he'd tried taking a shower, changing out of his work clothes, watching part of a ball game on TV, but it still sat there clamouring at him to pick up the receiver and dial. The darned thing even had her number programmed into its memory. No excuse not to phone her right this minute, really.
Mayson had been increasingly on his mind over the last few days. She'd told him at the clinic that she missed him, and now, after he'd reassembled other parts of his life fairly successfully, he realised that he also missed her. They'd had a lot of fun together – she'd been a good companion, and had even been pretty supportive when he'd had bad days during his fight with addiction. He liked her zestiness and sharp wit, and she seemed to like him. Okay, so she didn't approve of Superman, but that was just a challenge for him, wasn't it? He could teach her why Superman was worthwhile and a good use of his abilities.
So maybe the least he should do was to find out what chance they had of making a new start. That was his new theme, after all – though hopefully not his new obsession, he thought ruefully.
Okay, pick up phone and dial. Now. Say, “Hi, it's Clark,” and take it from there. Wing it. Hope she doesn't respond with “Who?”
Dialling tone, dial number, phone ringing. Wait, wait...don't chicken out and hang up. Wait...
“Hello?”
“Hi, it's Clark.”
Well, it seemed she was cautiously happy to hear from him. Lots of superficial pleasantries, of course, but she accepted his invitation to dinner at a new seafood restaurant they'd wanted to try out, and rang off sounding pretty cheerful.
Phew. He'd chosen the restaurant because he knew it had booths where they could talk in relative privacy. He'd also picked it because he reckoned they needed to have this first date on neutral territory - dinner at either his place or hers would have been far too loaded with memories.
********************
Being a minor celebrity sometimes had its advantages. The maitre d', a discreet, very smooth fellow, seated them in a quiet booth well away from the bar area and the front door. Glasses of water were brought, the table oil lamp lit, menus delivered and the usual long list of impossible-to-remember specials were reeled off. They exchanged helpless glances and settled for items from the regular menu. Wine was ordered, and at last, they were alone.
Compliments were exchanged on how good-looking, well-dressed and healthy they both looked. Mayson was wearing her hair a little differently and Clark made appreciative – and certainly not faked – noises about the new styling. Mayson told him he'd written a good article the previous week, and he requested and received a run-down of the more interesting or just plain weird cases she'd been working on recently. They even laughed.
The food arrived and they made complimentary remarks to the waiter and to each other on how good their chosen dishes looked. How big the plates were. How prettily arranged the vegetables were.
They began to eat. Mmm, it tasted good! He gave her a corner from his salmon and she let him have a couple of shrimps. They sipped wine.
They were half-way through the main course when Mayson laid down her fork, dabbed her lips with her napkin and said, “Look, is this going as badly as I think it is? Or were we always this darned polite with each other?”
After his initial shock that she'd voiced his exact thoughts, he sighed with relief, glad that one of them had broken the ice at last. The very, very thick ice. “No, you usually insult me at least once before the menus arrive,” he replied with a wink.
She laughed. “I do not! I say what I think, that's all.”
“Exactly,” he said, smiling. “But since I know you're always wrong, your insults do me no harm.”
“Oh, really? I'm always wrong, am I?”
And, thankfully, they slowly found their way back to a more natural, bantering conversation with a touch of seriousness now and then if the topic demanded it. As they became more at ease with each other, the mood became more personal, until finally, over coffee, Mayson inched her hand across the table to his. The move seemed almost conciliatory, as if she were offering him an olive branch. He slid his own hand over the white linen and met her half way, clasping her small, warm hand lightly in his own.
“Clark, I'm sorry I pushed you into something you weren't comfortable with that night,” she murmured.
“And I'm sorry I made you feel so horrible,” he replied huskily.
“Shall we call it even? The apologies sort of cancel each other out, don't they?”
“I guess.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Mayson, when you visited me at the clinic, you seemed to be saying...well, you seemed to want us to try again.”
She dropped her eyes and studied her coffee cup for a moment. “I'd understand if you didn't. But I think...what I feel for you...it's more than just friendship. I'm not sure if it's love, either, but I just think I'd like a second chance to find out.” Her eyes flicked up at him. “Wouldn't you?”
He met her blue-eyed gaze. “I...I think I would.” When she seemed disappointed with his hesitancy, he added, “I definitely would, Mayson. But can we take things slowly? Do you think you'd be okay with that?”
She nodded. “I think so. I know I wasn't exactly patient before, but now that I understand you better, it'll be easier.”
“And...” This was the hard one, but he had to say it or her expectations would be too high again. “I'm not sure...” He couldn't hold her gaze while he said it. Suddenly the table cloth seemed to contain a very interesting pattern of swirling white linen roses. Funny how he'd never noticed them before. “I don't know if I'm capable of love,” he murmured to the white roses. “Are you still sure you want to try again on those terms?”
He felt her hand slip out of his, and thought he had his answer. What point, after all, was there in a relationship where there was no love? Especially for Mayson, a beautiful, attractive young woman who wouldn't have difficulty in finding plenty of men who'd be more than willing to help her search for love?
But then she took his hand in both of hers. “I don't give up that easily, Clark. In fact, I consider that a challenge. You're an extraordinary person, Clark – I don't think you realise just what a catch you are.” She chuckled. “And I don't just mean that great body of yours, although I have to admit that's how you reeled me in to begin with.”
He smiled. “Well, the thing that did it for me – other than that great body of yours, of course – was that your eyes only popped out on stalks after I came back dressed as me and not Superman.”
“Huh? You never told me that before.”
He shrugged. “I'm the real person. Superman is just an icon-“
“Oh, don't get me started on that!” she exclaimed. “Icon my foot.”
He grinned. “Now, see, I'm glad you said that. I also have a challenge in mind.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I'm not going flying with you – I told you that before.”
“Yes, you did. But that's only a minor part of my challenge. The greater part is far more radical than that.” At her sceptical look, he just smiled enigmatically. “Wait and see. If I tell you, you'll just do everything you can to block me.”
“I see. Doesn't seem fair to me – I may have to haul you into my courtroom for unreasonable contractual practices.” She gave him a touch of her hard law-woman's stare, then dropped her gaze and began fiddling with her coffee cup. “So...how slow is slow? Am I allowed to kiss you now and then?”
“Oh, I expect so,” he said with a smile, although, in truth, he didn't know exactly where the boundaries lay. Circumstances and mood could change everything – either way. “But I can't give you absolutes, Mayson. We're just going to have to figure this out as we go along.”
“So long as I don't ever get the impression you're not willing to commit as much to this as I am,” she said. “I'm not here to be used, Clark.”
“I don't want to use you, Mayson I want you to get as much out of this...whatever this is...as I do,” he replied. “If you ever think I'm just using you, please tell me.”
“Oh, I will,” she said. “Like I said, I say what I think.” She paused. “There's one other thing. I understand you've had huge problems letting go of this other woman...Lois, wasn't it?...and I think I understand a little of what she meant to you, but please don't keep comparing us. We're two different people, with our own strengths and weaknesses. You either take me as I am or not at all. I can't be Lois for you, Clark.”
Oh, boy, that was a hard one. She was totally right, of course, but he couldn't be sure that he'd never be tempted to compare them. There was one thing he was sure of, though. “I don't want you to be Lois, Mayson. I want you to be you.”
She nodded. “Okay. Then we have a deal.” She looked up at him with a shy smile. “Um...would this be one of those times when a kiss might be acceptable?”
Instead of answering her, he smiled and leant over the table towards her. She did the same, but the table turned out to be too wide for them to meet in the middle. She laughed. “I can't reach you!”
“Well, luckily for you, I have certain talents,” he said, floating himself upwards just enough that he lean across the table and touch her lips. “See how useful Superman can be?” he murmured before pressing his lips against hers.
***************
Despite that first kiss, their relationship was rather hesitant for the next few weeks. At times, they were as comfortable with each other as they ever had been – usually when they were doing something active, like painting her living room or shopping for his new suit. Then, the banter flowed freely and the conversation was lively and topical. Things became less comfortable when the action stopped and they were watching a movie together or just sitting drinking coffee after dinner.
Mayson appeared to be taking his boundaries so seriously that she sought his permission every time she touched him or wanted to kiss him. Clark felt awkward because he didn't want to initiate anything which would have to stop before it became too intimate.
“Why would it have to stop?” asked George. He'd recently cut their sessions down to once every other week, which Clark was more than happy with, as his life was beginning to fill up and there seemed to be less time for visiting the clinic and lounging on a couch talking to his therapist.
“Because I don't think I'm ready for that yet,” said Clark. “And please don't let's get into that whole sex debate again. I think I pretty much know where I stand on all of that.”
George chuckled. “Sure, buddy. As it happens, I think you do, too. But does Mayson know where you stand?”
“Yes. I made that pretty clear right from the outset,” said Clark. “See, I have been listening to you.”
“Okay, but have you been using that sludgy grey stuff you call a brain lately? If Mayson knows you have limits, then she's clearly aware that you're not going to let things get hot and steamy,” said George. “Ever thought of that?”
“Well, no, I suppose,” said Clark. “But sometimes things aren't so easy to control in the heat of the moment.”
“Jesus, if you're having difficulty controlling yourself, then just go with the flow!” exclaimed George. “Do I have to draw you a diagram?”
“No, I think I pretty much know how it works, George,” Clark replied dryly. He sighed. “I know it sounds crazy, but...I guess I just don't want a repeat of last time.”
“Buddy, I think you understand yourself a whole lot better now than you did then. You'll do the right thing, and whatever you decide to do, Mayson will respect you for it because you've been upfront with her.” George paused. “At least, that's the theory.”
Clark snorted. “Thanks, George. You're really filling me with confidence here.”
“Well, you know I don't deal in certainties. That would be too easy, and then I'd get bored.” said George. “Look, you've told Mayson you have boundaries, and from what you've told me, she's doing her utmost to respect that. Tell me, why do you think she keeps asking for your permission?”
“I guess she's not sure where these boundaries of mine are, exactly,” said Clark.
“And why isn't she sure?”
“Because I haven't told her?” Clark replied. “But I can't tell her – I don't know exactly where they are myself.”
“How might you find out where they are?”
Clark shrugged helplessly. “I don't know.”
“What does a scientist do when he or she wants to find out something?”
“Experiment? You want me to experiment on her?”
“With her, Clark, with her. Christ, you can be obtuse sometimes, you know that?”
Clark grinned. Of course, the penny had really dropped as soon as George had mentioned scientists. “Well, you ask me all these leading questions,” said Clark. “But I don't like to make it too easy for you. You'd get bored.”
“Oh, playing games, were we?” said George. “Okay, I think you got the message. You have to take the initiative here, Clark. She's walking on eggshells around you because you've asked her to. If you want things to change, you need to show her how you want them to change.”
“And she'll respect me for it?” asked Clark, slightly tongue-in-cheek.
“Absolutely. Now, how are you sleeping? Still having those dreams?”
Yes, he still dreamt about Lois. Not very often, and certainly less frequently than when the dreams had first started. But every once in a while, he'd awake with her name on his lips and her distress lancing through his heart. He usually took a night flight over the city to clear his head, but sometimes that didn't work and he'd end up just sitting high up somewhere until dawn came up and he could go into work. He just didn't seem to be able to shake the dreams – it was the one thing that George's famous balance wasn't fixing.
“I take from your deafening silence that that's a yes?” prompted George.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I don't know – sometimes I wonder if I'm picking up some kind of echo from the past. I know that sounds crazy, but I really don't think I'm so obsessed about her as I used to be. Sure, my life would be transformed and I'd be totally overjoyed if she turned up tomorrow, but I think I'm learning to live without her. I certainly don't think about her all the time any more. What do you think?”
“Well, I don't know about echoes from the past, but I'd agree that you seem to be finding a better balance in your life,” said George. “I think the thing to focus on here is that the dreams aren't as frequent as they used to be. They don't seem to be affecting your health, and I suspect that with time, they're going to fade.”
Clark nodded. “Okay.”
“But if you start to feel that you can't handle them, call me, all right?” said George. “There are things we can do. Otherwise, buddy, I'll see you in two weeks' time, when I'll look forward to hearing about how you've progressed with Mayson.”
****************
