Memories
"Time and memory are true artists;
they remould reality nearer to the heart's desire. "
John Dewey
San Francisco
Memories are delicate half lies, a slanting of reality, a coloring of what happened and a whitewashing of the past. Thank God for that.
It allows you to remember your wedding day as this magical occasion, but skip over that one of your bridesmaids was outside throwing up next to a dumpster.
You remember the first time your child smiled at you and how your heart soared, while conveniently forgetting in the next moment he filled his diaper and the stench was so horrendous your eyes watered.
It helps you remember that road trip with your friends as a fun filled, wild time on Spring Break and edits out the long, mind numbing hours driving where the only radio station you could pick up was All Gospel, All The Time, plus Paul Harvey and farm report updates every fifteen minutes.
Memory lets you gloss over the awkward, the tedious and the inconvenient. Sometimes our memories aren't quite in sync with the reality. This extends to all of us, even heroes.
The morning light peaked over the windowsill. Zatanna's eyes fluttered opened and saw Clark looking at her.
"Hi,' she said with a smile.
"Good morning,' he replied with a smile of his own.
"Interesting night,' she offered with a giggle.
"That's one way of putting it."
They lay there for a few moments not sure what either should do. This was rather unique situation for both of them. Their minds drifted back to the night before as memories came flood back. They remembered how one kiss led to another and another. How each kiss seemed to grow in heat and passion
The reality was that they had started with one kiss and it had led to another and another, but Zee had been sitting on the edge of the couch and when Clark leaned in she had slipped off and they both fell to the floor with her landing on top of him. They also didn't reminisce about how her knee had landed in the worst strategic spot and as she tried to get up she had inadvertently ground it down further. Even an invulnerable man is less invulnerable in certain spots.
Clark remembered effortlessly picking her up as they continued kissing. She had wrapped her legs around his waist and he'd carried her into the bedroom.
He didn't recall that he'd been rather distracted and slightly missed the doorway, putting sizable dent in the frame with his elbow.
They both could picture being frantic to get the other's clothes off and it had been a whirl of flying garments.
He didn't remember groping around behind her looking for a zipper and then finally realizing there wasn't one.
Her selective memory didn't include trying to push his pants down, which brought a rather high-pitched yelp from him before she realized he was wearing a belt.
They both pictured themselves moving as if in a movie, all choreographed and sensual. They smoothly made it to the bed and slipped under the sheets. The memory of being so close seemed to dominate.
They had been close, probably too close, in his rush to be with her, Clark had accidentally let his full body weight press down on Zee, knocking the wind out of her. Neither dwelt on that moment.
They remembered each other's texture and how they felt. Her impossibly smooth skin as her leg slithered up the side of his. His hard muscled body under her fingers.
That she'd broken a nail trying to scratch his back had been lost or that his toenails sliced through her sheets as he rose up on his tiptoes.
She could almost hear herself repeating his name over and over as they moved on the bed.
It slipped her mind that she had said, "Ow, you're on my hair!"
Clark remembered them switching positions so she was on top and looking up as her black locks tumbled down around her beautiful face. He remembered her pressing herself tighter to him, trying to get even closer.
His memories were a little foggy on the moment when she had pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his throat and he had received a mouthful of her hair. He gagged a little bit, but that wasn't what he thought of his morning.
If you'd asked them how long it had lasted that first time, they would have said it seemed like forever.
In reality it was probably about ten, fifteen minutes tops.
After it was over the first time, Zatanna remembered slipping out of bed and smiling at Clark. She asked him if he'd like some water, as she was going to have some.
Her memory seemed to have edited out the first part of her comments that she had to pee.
This is not to say what they experienced wasn't real, it was. Zatanna and Clark had made a connection, perhaps deeper than either had expected. The cynic would say their memories were all lies, but the realist would counter this. He would say that while things hadn't been quite as perfect as their memories might lead one to believe, it was still overall an amazing experience.
There in lay their dilemma. It was just supposed to be sex with no strings attached for the purpose of creating a child. In the calm, clear light of day this seemed perfectly reasonable. They would sleep together once for the purpose of procreation and then move on. What they hadn't counted on was emotion and feelings. Once they were in bed together they weren't thinking of it in a calm, clear manner, emotions took over. It wasn't just sex, it was something more. Both felt it, but neither wanted to admit it.
It's that 'indefinable' that memory reinforces. The physical act of having sex is never quite the ballet we see in movies. It's all about emotions, feelings and sensations. It is connecting with another at the most basic level. While it is usually awkward and full of potential for embarrassment, it's also startlingly good. There's an old joke by Woody Allen, where he talked about how amazing sex was. He said even his worst orgasm was right on the money.
When you consider it in that context that the very worst of something is still pretty damn good, you begin to understand the impact that sex can have on all of us. Unless you're a complete unfeeling jerk, you can't help but be affected by it. You're at your most open and vulnerable, naked with another human being. A bond of intimacy s formed like no other. There is almost an overwhelming desire for more of it. It's addictive as any drug.
Problems arise later, once it's over and we reflexively pull back. It's a natural instinct, as none of us like feeling vulnerable for too long. It's too frightening and any wounds that come while in that state are magnified and crushing. The urge is to protect us against getting hurt, yet that's where memory comes in.
It's those memories, those delicate half lies that remind us that something important and amazing has happened. Those memories give us the strength to allow ourselves to be open and vulnerable again.
In this case, Zatanna and Clark weren't sure what to do with those memories. One time, that was all they'd talked about. As they lay there looking at each other many thoughts were swirling inside their heads, but each was struggling with what happened versus what they agreed on. Both pulled back.
"So, um, we did it,' Zee tentatively said.
"Yeah, we certainly did,' Clark agreed.
"Thank you for, well, helping,' Zee said, blushing as she heard the words come out of her mouth.
"I feel like I should thank you,' Clark instantly replied. He heard this and thought he should clarify what he meant. "I mean for allowing me to be apart of this."
"The baby?"
"Um, yeah."
"Right, right,' Zee said, nodding her head. She pulled the sheet up a little higher. He noticed this. It seemed like a signal that they were done.
"So I guess I should be going,' he offered, watching her reaction.
"Okay."
He started to rise, but then leaned towards her. He began to say something, but then just quickly kissed her. With a furtive glance into her eyes, he got up and took his clothes into the bathroom to get dressed. Zatanna lay in bed just watching him. As the door closed a confusing sadness seemed to fill her.
She dropped her head back on the pillow and just stared at the ceiling. She wasn't sure what had happened, but something unexpected had passed between them. She didn't know what to do with those feelings.