Chapter 7: Faith
From the small apartment in Metropolis, Connie watched the skyline. Clouds had hovered near the tops of the tallest buildings, reflecting off the glass windows that covered each wall. Below, people pulled up their umbrellas, and rain began to pour.
Tapping a pencil on the desk, Connie blew a sigh of defeat. In front of her, a letter innocently lay, each word another punch to the gut.
"Did you get the job?" came from the bed behind her, where the oh-so casual Alexander rested on the bed. His chocolate curls spilled onto her pillow, his shoes abandoned by the door.
She ran a hand through her messy curls, "Don't you think I'd be happy if it said something good?"
"It can't be that bad," he scoffed, jumping off the bed to lean over her shoulder, and instantly regretted his words. "Ooo, nevermind. And it's all… like this?"
"Yep." She resisted the urge to crumple the paper in her hand. "A big fat rejection from this city's best museum. Isn't this a great way to start another year?"
Alexander lightly nudged her, giving a playful frown. "C'mon, don't be like that. I read through every line of your fantastic essay and the only thing I can say is that they're wrong; end of story. You're a graduate from the best school on this side of the continent, you did your research, and you deserve a position in their ranks."
"Well, clearly they don't agree with you. In fact, it's the worst put together piece of dribble-"
Snatching it from the desk, Alexander folded the letter and slid it to safety in his back pocket. "None of that, my friend. They live to put you down and I won't stand for it. You're better than they are, I assure you."
"I don't think your opinion of me can pay the bills, Alexander." She waved a hand around the shabby apartment that cost an arm and a leg. "I'm already behind, and I can't ask Martha. As is, she can barely afford the mortgage on the farm. I needed this job."
The pressure was building in her chest, creating an ache that was spreading to each limb, creating the feeling of a rope tightening around her neck. I needed this job, I needed it so bad. It turned out that the yellow brick road stopped once you received your diploma, and you were left on a path of grey unknowns.
"You could always," droned Alexander, "take my offer and work for me. We could always use more people over at LexCorp."
This wasn't the first time that she'd been offered this chance, but now, it seemed like there was no other way to go. Working under a friend would be strange, she thought, but the rejection letter's words burned in her brain.
Before she could think about it anymore, Alexander was tugging her up and over to the door, saying "Come, let's speak over lunch. Get all the fine details out of the way."
He dragged her all the way down the crappy stairs that were covered in dust and cracks, shouldering open the brown wooden door, and outside. Thankfully, the rain had let up, but they still chugged through the breezy temperature to one of their favorite lunch spots.
Well, it was his favorite spot, since the quiet atmosphere and intimate setting seemed to tickle his fancy. The pair were well known by the staff, and their orders were always the same.
Connie preferred the cheaper options, a sourdough fried chicken sandwich with slaw and no side, while Alexander preferred the nicoise salad with rosemary croutons and a side of grilled, herbed chicken.
When their server, Jessica, handed off their respective meals and lemon water, Alexander began to make his pitch; "So, at your starting point, which is fresh out of MU, you'd be making forty eight an hour, and that's with benefits, such as dental and vision. I need you four days a week, and you get five days of paid vacation a month."
Her jaw hit the floor; "What? W-Why… that's insane."
"No, it's not. How else would we have the highest growth in technological advancement across the country if we didn't take care of our staff?" His fork pierced the leafy greens in the bright salad. "I don't offer this to just anyone."
She bit onto her sandwich, relishing in the juicy and crunchy bite of chicken. Swallowing, she pointed out that there were more qualified people just waiting to get the job he was offering.
"That is where you are wrong, because I read your paper, and frankly, it was news to my ears. You're very good at what you do, Connie, let's not deny that. And with the right staff and back up, maybe your own collection team, you could make a name for yourself."
She gulped down another bite of succulent chicken, and took a sip of the citrus drink. From across the table, she eyed her smiling friend, wondering what was going on in that head of his. This seemed too good to be true.
She leaned forward and squinted. "What's the catch?"
"No catch." His hands came up in a sign of good peace. "All I want is your best, and I have full faith in you."
"But…" She leaned back in her chair, "Shouldn't there be an interview or something? Like a real one, with a resume and all that?"
"Consider this one of two." He scarfed down two more bites of fresh tuna and greens, occasionally biting at the chicken breast on the side. "I had a feeling this day would come, and there's one small detail I haven't told you yet."
"Oh?"
"In case I ever wanted to hire someone of my own, they would have to meet my Father. He's the head of the company, what he says goes, so I must abide. But, don't fret. I've already arranged everything."
Everything was happening too fast for Connie. "What'd you mean? What'd you do?"
He simply scarfed down the rest of his salad and chugged the lemon water, patting his face dry with a napkin.
"Tonight, you, me and my Father. I've arranged for a driver to pick you up at eight." His card slid into the booklet with their check. "Wear something nice."
When she went to take another bite of chicken, it was cold.
Luther Manor was, to put it plainly, extravagant.
No building in Kansas was as nice as this, nor had this many windows with a yard of luscious grass that spanned nearly a mile. It scared her to think of how much it cost to live in a place like this, or the amount of upkeep it required. Every tree that bordered the property was perfectly trimmed and a bright viridian green.
The car dropped her off at the front door, and the fine gravel felt rough underneath her aged flats. Each pebble dug into the soles of her feet as she walked, and her hands found themselves fisted in the soft material of her dress.
The dress had been a gift from Martha for her twentieth birthday, and at twenty four, it still fit great, hugging her in all the right ways.
Before she could even press against the dazzling doorbell, it swung inward, revealing a finely dressed Alexander. Unsurprisingly, he wore a plain black tee with jeans, his hair hanging to his shoulders.
He had a preference for the casual look, but at least he hadn't chosen sneakers.
His arms pulled her into a hug, "You look absolutely stunning. No, better than stunning. Absolutely magnificent."
Her cheeks grew warm, "Thanks, and you… look like yourself."
Chuckling at her jape, he took her arm, leading her into the living room.
"Welcome to my humble abode," he gestured to the wide, open space filled with things that seemed to be out of a fairy tale .
Dangling from the ceiling was a stunning chandelier, sparkling in the dimly lit room. Oblong paintings donned the walls, depicting strange and unusual sights from history. Ranging from portraits of water lilies in a pond of blue, small angels shooting at unsuspecting folk, to a black winged creature standing above its foes.
It felt like walking through a personal museum, too afraid to touch but the desire still lingered. He narrated the different artifacts, pointing out his favorites and ones that deserved the garbage bin instead.
"That ones a fake," he pointed to the wall at a gorgeous painting depicting four women strolling by the sea, pointing to the oceanside.
Her eyes stayed glued to it as they continued walking, "How can you tell?"
Instead of answering, he turned into another room, announcing it to be his office. Much like the living room, the ceiling stood nearly fifty feet tall, another chandelier dangling in the light. More paintings, more stunning vase's and other art that had her eyes open in wonder.
"But this is my favorite," he said. He'd moved away to pour a drink, taking a sip while nodding to the painting above the small table, where, funny enough, each end of the table held a solid stone wolf's head.
"It's…" her head tilted on an angle. "Interesting."
He barked out a laugh.
"It's titled the 'Fall of the Rebel Angels'. Fitting, don't you think?" He sipped his scotch. "To see the ones above falling below, while the demons rise from the pits of hell to fight in an even battle. Good vs. Evil, God vs. Man."
"I'm pretty sure it's God vs. Satan, right?" She eyed the lower portion of the painting. "It's showing the devil coming from below, angels from above. I didn't think men were a part of this."
"Hm, I could see that. But are we not the ones scrambling to touch the stars? We've built machines to escape the hell in which we've created, attempting to find whatever is up there, waiting to be found. Are we not the demons below looking to escape our eternal damnation?"
"I don't think men are evil. No one is born good or bad. It's our choices that make us who we are." She looked at him. "And some of us don't dream of touching the stars."
"And if we have no choice?"
"We always have a choice," she said. "In fact, the painting should be the opposite way. Down here, we're the good ones, or at least we try to be. But who knows what's up there."
He hm'ed. "You think we're good and the gods are the evil ones?"
"I think that whoever created this painting didn't have faith in man or the gods. It doesn't matter who's on either side if it always ends in a fight."
He looked at her and his lips twitched, downing the last of the burning liquor. Men are evil, Connie, I thought you'd know that.
Dinner was an affair, to put it plainly.
Lionel Luther looked older than he had all those years ago at her college interview, but at least his eyes had shown a hint of recognition when she'd shaken his hand. The rest of the night had gone by fairly well, simple questions here and there, comments on the bitter wine with saccharine undertones.
All had been going smoothly. At least until Connie had excused herself to use the restroom.
On her way back, she'd been admiring the stunning, intricate wallpaper, even going as far as to run her hands along the wall when she'd stopped right outside the dining room, seconds away from opening the door.
"...get back at me, Lex? Is this… pathetic…" Lionel's voice had never sounded so slimy and sickly.
She jumped when another voice boomed, "It may surprise you to know that this has nothing to do with you."
"...Doesn't it? It's my company…" she placed her ear against the door, "Stop being pathetic, boy."
"I'm everything you're not," she'd never heard Alexander-Lex- sound so angry. "I'm twice the man-"
She leapt back with a hand over her mouth, the hard clap of flesh echoing through the air. It took a moment to register what had just transpired, and she tried to think that maybe it wasn't true, but when the door opened and there stood Alexander, his cheek bright red and his eyes glassy, she felt her stomach drop.
Now, back in her shabby apartment with a job under her belt from a man who hurt her best friend, Connie curled up in her bed, wishing to shut out the rest of the world.
Did it make her a bad person to take a job when what was going on behind closed doors made you sick to your stomach?
"Am I a bad person?" she whispered into the room, hoping someone had an answer.
When only the wind outside came as a response, she opened the bedside drawer, pulling out a stack of papers that had seen better days. Ends were torn and crinkled, stained and crumpled, but she wouldn't throw them out for the world.
Her eyes glazed over the first sheet; I got into MU, Clark! You'd be amazed at the campus, it's so big and everyone is so nice. I can't wait for you to see it…
The next page was similar; I did great in my first semester, but it's not the same with you gone. I have a friend, but he doesn't know about you. I don't know how to tell him about you, I'm scared he might get jealous. He doesn't have any other friends besides me…
I graduated!, the next one read, Martha came down and it was amazing. I wish you could've been there. There was a ceremony and everything, and I'm trying not to think about what comes next, because we were supposed to do it together, but you're not here…
They all had the similar sadness of missing the one person who meant the world to you- you're my world, Connie- and her chest grew tight with pain.
It was difficult to numb the pain of feeling alone, even when you had people beside you.
But when he closed her eyes and thought of his ocean eyes and innocent smile, being in his arms and being at peace, she felt herself succumb to sleep, hoping he was out there dreaming of her too.
If anyone had asked Connie what she'd be doing at thirty two years of age, she would've said something along the lines of simply being happy, seeing as that was the most important thing in life.
Enjoying what you were doing was more valuable than having money, fame or fortune, and she was lucky enough to say that she was indeed happy.
Working at LexCorp had been a dream come true; she'd brought their small entomology department up from the ground, going from collections to research, and now sat in the Administrative Department. She had a team of people under her, and she thankfully lacked the superiority complex that most leaders had.
Alexander and her had remained good friends through the years, supporting one another when needed. His hair stayed the same length, his likening of casual wear never faltered, and thankfully, she kept him humble.
And Lionel Luther kept a watchful eye over both of them, growing sicker every year.
It was a perfectly normal day, no different from any other.
They'd been graced with nice weather, the sun shining bright and warm over the occupants of Metropolis, and Connie was finally able to pull out her short sleeved shirts and dresses.
One of the largest changes in her life had been the salary from LexCorp; it allowed her to send Martha a check every month to help with the mortgage, and also covered the rent of a nicer apartment.
She still didn't splurge on the diamond and nicoise salads like Alexander, but the new pricey flats in her closet would beg to differ.
"Alright, I'm shutting down for the day. I've already penciled in my time off and I'll be back on Tuesday. You're in charge the rest of the day, tomorrow and Monday. Try and at least get something in so it looks like you were doing work while I was gone."
Amy, her co-worker of three years, scoffed in mock defense. "Me? Get nothing done? I'll have you know I've never been behind in my life."
"Pretty sure that last time I was out, you didn't do anything."
"That was because you left Jeremiah in charge, and he likes to party. I, on the other hand, know that I come here to work, and go to your place to party." Amy dodged a flying piece of trash. "Hey, don't get mad at me. You're the one with the espresso machine."
"It was a gift," defended Connie. "I couldn't say no."
"Uhm, you could've. Lex Luthor worships the ground you walk on. If you told him you wanted a chunk of the moon, he'd build a big claw to tear it off and bring it to your door."
Everyone in the building knew that Lex followed after her like a puppy, but she only saw her friend of over ten years.
"We've been friends for years. If I had the money he did, I'd buy you two espresso machines." Connie began to pack up her things. "And he knows I'm not looking to date anyway."
"Oh, he does?" Amy looked unconvinced. "Are you holding out for some imaginary guy to sweep you off your feet? If so, count me in."
"Do you talk to all your superior's this way, or am I just special?"
"No, I got fired for snapping at my manager at Starbucks." Amy shrugged her shoulders. "Can't win 'em all. So, is this the monthly visit to see your Mom? Or something else?"
Hefting her bag up, Connie grabbed her keys. "Same as always. A weekend back at home always does some good for me. I get to eat homemade pies, support some local business, and really get back into my roots. Metropolis tends to take it out of me."
Amy muttered something along the lines of "you got that right" and turned back to her monitor, waving Connie farewell.
On her way out of the glass office space, each employee wished her good tidings back home, and she smiled all the way.
Outside her branch, a friendly face appeared.
"Ah! Going away again, aren't we? Back off to little ol' Kansas?" Alexander leaned against the wall, arms crossed over one another. "I can't help but be hurt that you haven't taken me with you. Parents love me."
Not your own, she nearly replied, but knew better than to bring up the vile relationship him and his Father had.
"You'd hate it and you know it." She heard him push away from the wall and start to follow. "There's barely any wifi, cows and corn on every corner, and the tv is older than both of us combined."
He playfully nudged her shoulder, pressing the G on the elevator panel. "Well, the both of us will never know unless you bring me along."
The ride down was filled with jabs back and forth, a wave to Helen at the front desk, and he pulled her into a hug at the front door. "See you on Tuesday. Have fun."
"Have fun yourself." She pulled away and watched him push a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "This is the perfect time to visit that tea house that specializes in matcha that I refuse to take you to."
"Oh, right, because you're a heathen and dislike the most superior tea there is."
She snorted, "Goodbye."
His eyes followed her all the way out the door. His hands clenched at his sides, his mouth thinning into a harsh line. The urge to run after the one good thing in his life vanished as quickly as it came, and with a tight smile, he bounded away to his office.
The ride home took three hours; much more time than a plane ride but less costly all together.
She'd invested in a car that ran without breaking down every few days, but didn't cost an arm and a leg. It played music and had good satellite radio, and even AC.
It was a comfortable but long ride, and when she slowly pulled up to the farm, the same feeling of being young hit her. Even if this was routine, the memories never went away.
She parked in the dirt driveway behind the beat up red truck, stepped out and slammed the door shut, running up to the front door and meeting Martha in a warm hug.
"Oh, sweetheart, it feels like you never left." Martha rubbed a hand along her back. "I've told you time and time again, you don't need to drag yourself all the way down here to see me."
"Have you ever thought that maybe I just missed home?" Connie stepped inside and took a deep breath, exhaling while spinning in a carefree circle. "It feels like home."
"Good, honey." Martha rubbed her hands together, smiling at the girl she had the pleasure of calling her daughter. "C'mon, let's go out for a bit. You know I love to hear about city life."
With a glint in her eye, Connie dangled her keys from a finger, "I'll drive."
They decided on iHop, seeing as it was one of the only brunch spots with reasonable prices, and everytime they came, Connie got to say a fond hello to Pete Ross.
He'd sprouted from his short youth years, and still sported red hair, cut close to the scalp.
"Table for two." Connie said, smiling at Pete, who beamed in return.
However, his eyes darted over her shoulder for a split second, and she resisted the urge to look out the glass door.
"Hiya Connie, Martha. Right this way." Pete led them to a booth in the corner. "A server will be right with you."
"Thanks, and I hope you're doing well, Pete. It's always nice to see a friendly face." Pete stepped off to the side while a young server took their usual. Once the server bounded off, Pete inched closer to their booth.
Once again, his eyes darted to the front door, and this time she asked, "Is everything alright? You look a little…"
Nervous, she noted.
There was a light sweat along his brow, and his hands were wringing each other in every way. Everything about his body language said he was anxious about something, and when she asked him again if everything was alright, he gulped.
"There was a woman here, not fifteen minutes ago. She...uhm…" again, he wrung his hands. "She was asking about the bus crash. You know, from when we were kids."
That had her sitting up straight, tremors trailing up and down her back. How could I not know? The water was rising too fast to forget.
"What did she want to know about it?" Connie licked her lips. "What'd you tell her?"
"Nothing, nothing. I just… I said what I remember. It all happened pretty fast, and it was a long time ago, but she wanted to know everything."
He shut his eyes and tried to picture her. "I didn't get a name from her, but she had a badge, just like the one you have. Except hers said… I think it was the Daily Planet or something like that."
The Daily Planet, located four blocks north from LexCorp, run by Perry White and home to the best and brightest journalists on this side of the world. There were a few that had won prestigious prizes for their work, but honestly, some of their methods for work were over the top.
They used fake credentials, and lied to sneak into places they weren't allowed. But when Connie thought hard enough, there was one face she'd seen on the front page more than enough times to forget.
"What color was her hair?" Connie inquired, already standing back up and ushering the same to Martha.
"Red."
"And why are you telling me this, Pete? That was years ago. It's over."
"Because," Pete gulped. He turned to point at the wall where dozens of newspaper clippings were; ranging from local chili competitions to best corn in show. "She saw a picture of the both of you. I gave her directions to your farm-"
"Thanks, Pete," she threw down a fifty and pulled Martha along, ignoring the pleas and questions as to what the hell was going on.
"What the hell is going on, Connie?" Martha huffed from the passenger seat, flinching when the car jerked out of the parking lot and zoomed down the road.
"I've heard of that reporter. Lois Lane, she works for Perry White. Award winning reporter, and if she's here, asking about that bus crash, it can't be good."
"You don't think…" It went unspoken but Connie nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. "But why?"
"Why not?" Her grip grew tight on the steering wheel. "We always knew someday someone would try to dig up stuff on him. I just didn't think it would be Lois Lane of all people. She goes for the throat, doesn't back down. And there she is…"
In their driveway, a sliver Prius lay innocently parked behind the rusted truck, and Connie stepped out first.
A few feet away, the famous reporter herself, Lois Lane, walked her way.
There was a pretty smile on her face, her red locks hanging down past her shoulders, and true to Pete's words, the Daily Planet badge hanging around her neck.
"Hi, I'm Lois Lane."
Connie shook the offered hand, "Connie Mayfield. What brings you so far out of Metropolis, Lois?"
"I'm here to research a story that my editor won't take, at least not until I have more evidence." From her purse, Lois pulled out newspaper clippings, online print outs and the like. "I just have a few questions."
"Look, Lois. I'm here on vacation for the weekend, and I'd like to spend it with my mom and not a reporter trying to ask about the time my classmates and I nearly drowned."
Kindly shouldering past her, Connie flinched when Lois called out, "But you didn't, and a part of you knows that not that many people get the second chance at life you did."
"Please," Lois begged, stepping forward and gripping Connie's limp hand. "Let me be the one to tell his story."
Shaking her head, Connie pulled away, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"He saved me too," continued Lois. "I have to thank him for what he did, and I'm clearly not the first person he'd helped."
"Look-" Lois showed off the headlines detailing acts by an unknown man best defined as heroic, "-he never stays in one place long, but he's always known as a local hero that vanishes overnight."
Clark, her brain supplied, he's okay and he's alive.
Of all the times she'd envisioned hearing about his return, they'd never felt like this, filled with panic and fear that everything she'd built would crumble to the floor once he'd come back.
Horrific thoughts that screamed he was better off gone came and went, and she still always found herself craving his touch, his gaze, his everything.
But this wasn't right.
"Please, Ms. Lane, there's nothing more to be said." Connie jerked out of Lois's hold.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Martha stepping close, no doubt having heard everything that had transpired seconds before.
"Lois, right?" interrupted Martha. The older woman squinted against the sunlight, gently taking the reporter's arm. "Come on, lemme show you something."
Connie nibbled on her lip as the two of them walked away from the farm. She jerked around and marched into the house, slamming the screen door and leaning against the wall to breathe. Her lungs felt tight, her brain stuck in a vice, and she slowly sunk to the floor.
Years had passed since she'd felt like this; empty, alone, but they popped up now and then. Alexander had kept them away, building happier memories in her mind. But they were never truly gone.
The worst part about it, the part that made her angry, was that she thought she'd moved on, at least a little.
It had been nearly fifteen years since Clark had left. Fifteen years! She had a job, friends, money, a nice car and a mother who loved her… but it wasn't complete with Clark.
"Connie," came from her left, and with her back to the wall, she lazily turned her head.
"Oh, wow," she chuckled aloud. "I've officially lost my mind."
There, a few feet away, was Clark.