Behind - Chapter One
"Mom!" called Harry James, swinging his small, pyjama-clad arms backwards and forwards. His small feet carried him to the hallway, allowing him to barge into the cramped kitchen. The child rushed towards his parent, barrelling into her bottom half. He frowned. "When's Clark coming home?"
Olivia smiled and bent at the knee, looking her son in the eye. "He'll be here soon," she promised, her smile now quite faint. "What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the white and grey-smeared square of paper in her child's hands. "Is that - ?"
"It was in the mailbox!" laughed Harry, his round face crinkling in delight. "Dodge chased the mailman again," he said, speaking of the ten-year-old Belgian Shepherd the small family owned.
"Did he now?" asked Olivia, wiping her hands on the dishtowel to her left. Olivia threw the cloth to the side. She called out to the animal, thumping her side with the palm of her hand. The elderly Shepherd trotted towards her moving hand, his long tongue lolling from his mouth. "Dodger," she sighed, making a show of the animal's telling off, "I'm sure Mr. Myers doesn't appreciate being chased off the property." She turned back to her son, her mood somewhat brighter. "From Clark?"
The little boy nodded. He jumped into the chair closest to the countertop, clumsily pouring breakfast cereal into his bowl. "Where is Uncle Clark? Can we go see him?"
Olivia tore open the letter and stared down at the words, brow furrowing. "He'll come home soon enough," she told him, her words full of empty promises. "But, for now, you need to hurry up with your breakfast otherwise we'll be late for school." She left the letter on the countertop, Clark's words soon forgotten as she readied herself for another slow day in Smalleville, Kansas.
There's something I have to do. I'll explain everything once I'm back.
Take care, the both of you,
Clark.
Trees and fields passed. Olivia focused on the road ahead, brown eyes checking the speedometer every few seconds. The road beneath the beat-up Volkswagon she drove was rough and slick with rain. The car shuddered to a stop beside the Smallville Elementary School. "Go get 'em," she murmured, holding back a small smile as Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and raced from the car, heading inside the building with the other children.
August 16th. Harry's first day of Second Grade.
Clark,
This letter will probably never find you. You've undoubtedly moved on already, but I thought I would fill you in on the happenings of Smallville.
Everything is OK. Work, school, life. Harry started Second Grade today. You should've seen him. He looked so proud to be in the bigger kids area.
I saw your Mom today. She's keeping well. She's worried about you, but then again we all are. She's taking Harry out for dinner tomorrow night for his birthday. Can you believe he's going to be eight? I bought him that action figure he wanted. He wanted it for Christmas, but I thought I'd surprise him. I'll have to think of something even better for Christmas. Any ideas?
After I dropped Harry off at school, I went to visit your Dad and Adam. I didn't make it to work that afternoon. I guess I just couldn't face the world after seeing them. I miss them. And I know you do too.
Harry's been asking about you. He wants to know when his Uncle's coming home. I told him that it would be soon, but I'm not making any promises. We both know neither of us are very good at keeping them.
Missing you,
Liv.
Clark,
Your last letter said you were in New Jersey. How is the big state?
Harry's birthday was great. Your Mom made him a birthday dinner and we had cake with candles and presents galore. She bought him some new school clothes and some books. Your present arrived just as we were eating dessert - special delivery. Harry was so excited, we thought he was going to be sick all over the table. He loves his present. Thank you.
When are you coming home?
Liv.
Olivia,
Life is complicated. There are things I'm still learning. Things I didn't know much about until now. When they're sorted, when they all make sense, I'll come home.
Clark.
Clark,
I understand. You'll tell me when you're ready. When it's all sorted, come home.
Yours,
Liv.
Another sunrise. Olivia shielded her eyes away from the glaring yellow hues of sunlight and padded across the hardwood floors of her bedroom and into the small bathroom. She pulled the faucet and dipped the toothbrush beneath the running water, staring at her reflection in contemplation. Her dark hair was longer than it had ever been, reaching the small of her back in straight lines and layers. Her brown eyes seemed dull and void of life as she stared back at herself, the freckles on her face more prominent than they had been during the winter months.
The toothbrush fell from her fingertips as she heard Harry's scream echo through the house, and it fell with a clatter into the porcelain sink.
She raced from the bathroom and down the stairs to the hallway, mind reeling as she found the open door and the screams of her son still sounding in the early morning light. Running out of the house, she halted by the gravel driveway as she watched the scene unfold. For before her, standing tall in his washed-out clothing and god-forsaken blue baseball cap, was Clark Kent.
And before she could stop herself, before she could find the words to thank him, to berate him, he spoke her name.
"Liv?"
A soft sigh escaped her throat, soon forgotten as she stepped forward to welcome her old friend home. "We got your letters," she told him, her voice quiet as she spoke into his ear. His embrace was warm. His grip tight. "Harry wanted to reply to all of them, but we knew you'd be moving on, and - "
Clark nodded, his question no more than a whisper. "How is he?"
A second smile flickered across her lips. "He's OK," she said, finding the hidden meaning in Clark's words. "We're OK."