CHAPTER 7: SEPARATION
The outdoor magic of dusk permeated the cornfield into a plethora of dimness, consuming the field's majesty and offspring along with Lex's own shadow. He stood within the husky stalks which stood as if by enchantment, rooted in the ground by moral, and yet stretching inexplicably into the twilight. He felt at this moment as though he might be a stalk of corn, hidden halfway in darkness, but at the same time intermingled in a crowd of nothingness beneath the starry light.
Here he was. And here he'd stay until he learned the truth of why, after he had shaved three times that very day, his follicles opened to the light air and produced a dreaded masterpiece.
Submitting to the growing darkness, Lex dropped to his knees and ran the loamy soil through his fingers in dis-ease. Sitting here reminded him of that day - the day his father had turned from him and left him to bear baldness solely on his own - the day that Lex had begun to pursue his father's love and attention, to no avail.
A sort of remorseful anger swept over him then. How could things have turned out this way? Meteors . . . And then he wept. He dropped his head into his hands and cried for his father's hatefulness, knowing that the guise of gaining a better relationship with Lex was only a cover for something else.
After a few moments of turning the dust and dirt, flecked with bright green, in his fists to a thick mud soup, he allowed it to flow out, on to his head, his sprouting head . . .
Or was it? His palms coming to rest on an unexpected smoothness, Lex broke into laughs of disbelief. Had he not just had hair in that spot a few moments ago? Surely this was a joke.or maybe he had just been pursuing answers in all the wrong places. Chloe had been right. His past was the key.
Amid the corn he lay, gazing up into the bright sky. He need not have shielded his eyes.the stalks sheltered him.
A kiss.
Countless times had Chloe born witness to Clark's transparent quest for Lana through his momentous stares and thorough ignorance. But those incidents could always be interpreted in a safer manner, with as possible as unlikely explanations for the way Clark smiled at Lana and remained oblivious to Chloe's palpable emotions. But now she had seen something more. Something concrete. A kiss.
It seemed quite strange to her that she had not known before.and while even her fleeting suspicions that Clark was the father of Lana's child had made her so angry, she had never truly believed that. Not the virtuous Clark. And so, just as she had for so long, she had remained blissfully ignorant of Clark's emotions, perhaps to the extent that Clark was of hers. But as the intelligent investigator she claimed herself to be, how could Chloe not have accepted the truth as it swam before her eyes all those months? That action certainly would have lessened the pain that she felt now that it had bitten her on the nose; it ached, it stung, it enveloped her in murky realization.
And Lana, her friend. How naïve Chloe had been to believe that affable claim that Lana did not wish Clark to come between them. She would always seek only the truth for now on . . .
At the appearance of her raven-haired former-companion rushing from the barn, Chloe stepped from the shadows of the trees, her face sunken with hurtful riverbeds of tears. "You whore. You're just what they've been calling you, you know. Whitney is so happy that you're having this baby, and yet behind his back you're seducing your next lover. I never would have expected such a base ploy from Lana Lang."
"Whitney's happy!" Lana shouted. "But am I? Look at me, Chloe." She gestured to herself; her hair was mussed, her face streaked with heavy wetness. "Not only do I look a tremendous fright, but I have a tremendous fright growing inside of me! Whitney can keep his happiness, but I'll never understand how he could be so unfeeling. And as for your erroneous presumptions, Chloe, I was not seducing that bastard Clark. You can have him for all I care! And do you want to know what I care about? I care about no one, because no one cares about me! I think it's about time I extinguish the cause of this horror."
Her voice breaking, she took off down the road.
"Oh, what have I done?" Chloe moaned. It had been all Clark's doing; Lana had had no say in that kiss. "Lana, wait!" Distraught, she jogged after her friend.
"'Bastard Clark'?" Pete mumbled. If only Lana knew the implications of that label, what with Clark's unknown origins.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but.he had. Having been on his way to visit his best friend, he was held up by the shouting of Chloe and Lana. That wasn't something he could simply ignore; Chloe was one of his close friends, and he cared about Lana too.
As he watched the increasingly dwindling figures of the two girls in the distance, he shrugged off an unsettled feeling. They would take care of each other. But meanwhile, if that was occurring outside of Clark's loft, how would Clark be faring?
Suddenly concerned, Pete sprinted up the stairs to the loft, where Clark was sitting in a corner, arms crossed sullenly across his chest.
"You okay, man?" Pete crossed over toward Clark and glanced down at him apprehensively. "What happened?"
"Lana doesn't want me," Clark mumbled sadly. "I.it just always seemed like she did. After what happened between us, even though we decided to cool things down for awhile, I just thought she wouldn't resist me."
Pete looked at his friend. "What happened? I don't understand. After all, it's not as if you're the baby's father."
He had only been joking, but of course this threw an already frustrated Clark off balance. His face sunk into a muddle of tears as he explained the whole story among sorrowful sniffs and snorts, beginning with that one rainy summer night in the loft. "Pete, I thought it was my baby. I only found out about Whitney yesterday.and the whole time before that I thought he was mine. I thought Lana was mine."
At once, Pete and Clark let out long breaths of air. Neither spoke for a long while, or what seemed to be along while. Clark was too emotionally spent for more words; Pete was too shocked, too stung.
But, shock being more easily overcome than sobs and dishevelled feelings, Pete spoke up eventually. "I'll try not to be hurt that you didn't tell me about Lana before," he said, obviously fighting inwardly with himself. "And I'll try not to judge you for doing what you did. But here I learn that you moved in on her once again? Maybe you're not the person I thought you were Clark."
Pete could read the remorse all over Clark's face, and bit his tongue before he spilled more regret upon his friend. But he couldn't help it! Never had he been so disgusted, not even when he had found out that this very same friend had been hiding the ultimate secret from him for years. This was so much worse, for now the qualities which Pete had expected to be coupled with those powers which Clark so humbly possessed had seemingly evaporated before his eyes.
"Listen Clark, I know it's hard.but maybe you should stop looking at what you don't have and start concentrating on what you do have. You have a loving admirer even if you don't notice it. You have amazing abilities and up until today I've known you to be a wholly righteous individual. And yet you sit here and feel sorry for yourself. Why? Because your parents love you too much? Because you've been pursuing an empty dream of love for so long? Because you thought good had come of your bad decision? Or just because no one's paying attention to you anymore since everybody found out about Lana's problem? Correction: I'm paying attention to you. But I don't intend to any longer."
Fuming, Pete took the stairs three at a time to get away as quickly as possible. He felt terrible saying such things when Clark had obviously lost so much of all that he had previously had.
He left Clark sitting in an emotional stupor. All in one day he had lost the support of his parents, what he thought was his true love, one of his best friends.and on top of all that, he had lost his own breath of life: his child.
The outdoor magic of dusk permeated the cornfield into a plethora of dimness, consuming the field's majesty and offspring along with Lex's own shadow. He stood within the husky stalks which stood as if by enchantment, rooted in the ground by moral, and yet stretching inexplicably into the twilight. He felt at this moment as though he might be a stalk of corn, hidden halfway in darkness, but at the same time intermingled in a crowd of nothingness beneath the starry light.
Here he was. And here he'd stay until he learned the truth of why, after he had shaved three times that very day, his follicles opened to the light air and produced a dreaded masterpiece.
Submitting to the growing darkness, Lex dropped to his knees and ran the loamy soil through his fingers in dis-ease. Sitting here reminded him of that day - the day his father had turned from him and left him to bear baldness solely on his own - the day that Lex had begun to pursue his father's love and attention, to no avail.
A sort of remorseful anger swept over him then. How could things have turned out this way? Meteors . . . And then he wept. He dropped his head into his hands and cried for his father's hatefulness, knowing that the guise of gaining a better relationship with Lex was only a cover for something else.
After a few moments of turning the dust and dirt, flecked with bright green, in his fists to a thick mud soup, he allowed it to flow out, on to his head, his sprouting head . . .
Or was it? His palms coming to rest on an unexpected smoothness, Lex broke into laughs of disbelief. Had he not just had hair in that spot a few moments ago? Surely this was a joke.or maybe he had just been pursuing answers in all the wrong places. Chloe had been right. His past was the key.
Amid the corn he lay, gazing up into the bright sky. He need not have shielded his eyes.the stalks sheltered him.
A kiss.
Countless times had Chloe born witness to Clark's transparent quest for Lana through his momentous stares and thorough ignorance. But those incidents could always be interpreted in a safer manner, with as possible as unlikely explanations for the way Clark smiled at Lana and remained oblivious to Chloe's palpable emotions. But now she had seen something more. Something concrete. A kiss.
It seemed quite strange to her that she had not known before.and while even her fleeting suspicions that Clark was the father of Lana's child had made her so angry, she had never truly believed that. Not the virtuous Clark. And so, just as she had for so long, she had remained blissfully ignorant of Clark's emotions, perhaps to the extent that Clark was of hers. But as the intelligent investigator she claimed herself to be, how could Chloe not have accepted the truth as it swam before her eyes all those months? That action certainly would have lessened the pain that she felt now that it had bitten her on the nose; it ached, it stung, it enveloped her in murky realization.
And Lana, her friend. How naïve Chloe had been to believe that affable claim that Lana did not wish Clark to come between them. She would always seek only the truth for now on . . .
At the appearance of her raven-haired former-companion rushing from the barn, Chloe stepped from the shadows of the trees, her face sunken with hurtful riverbeds of tears. "You whore. You're just what they've been calling you, you know. Whitney is so happy that you're having this baby, and yet behind his back you're seducing your next lover. I never would have expected such a base ploy from Lana Lang."
"Whitney's happy!" Lana shouted. "But am I? Look at me, Chloe." She gestured to herself; her hair was mussed, her face streaked with heavy wetness. "Not only do I look a tremendous fright, but I have a tremendous fright growing inside of me! Whitney can keep his happiness, but I'll never understand how he could be so unfeeling. And as for your erroneous presumptions, Chloe, I was not seducing that bastard Clark. You can have him for all I care! And do you want to know what I care about? I care about no one, because no one cares about me! I think it's about time I extinguish the cause of this horror."
Her voice breaking, she took off down the road.
"Oh, what have I done?" Chloe moaned. It had been all Clark's doing; Lana had had no say in that kiss. "Lana, wait!" Distraught, she jogged after her friend.
"'Bastard Clark'?" Pete mumbled. If only Lana knew the implications of that label, what with Clark's unknown origins.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but.he had. Having been on his way to visit his best friend, he was held up by the shouting of Chloe and Lana. That wasn't something he could simply ignore; Chloe was one of his close friends, and he cared about Lana too.
As he watched the increasingly dwindling figures of the two girls in the distance, he shrugged off an unsettled feeling. They would take care of each other. But meanwhile, if that was occurring outside of Clark's loft, how would Clark be faring?
Suddenly concerned, Pete sprinted up the stairs to the loft, where Clark was sitting in a corner, arms crossed sullenly across his chest.
"You okay, man?" Pete crossed over toward Clark and glanced down at him apprehensively. "What happened?"
"Lana doesn't want me," Clark mumbled sadly. "I.it just always seemed like she did. After what happened between us, even though we decided to cool things down for awhile, I just thought she wouldn't resist me."
Pete looked at his friend. "What happened? I don't understand. After all, it's not as if you're the baby's father."
He had only been joking, but of course this threw an already frustrated Clark off balance. His face sunk into a muddle of tears as he explained the whole story among sorrowful sniffs and snorts, beginning with that one rainy summer night in the loft. "Pete, I thought it was my baby. I only found out about Whitney yesterday.and the whole time before that I thought he was mine. I thought Lana was mine."
At once, Pete and Clark let out long breaths of air. Neither spoke for a long while, or what seemed to be along while. Clark was too emotionally spent for more words; Pete was too shocked, too stung.
But, shock being more easily overcome than sobs and dishevelled feelings, Pete spoke up eventually. "I'll try not to be hurt that you didn't tell me about Lana before," he said, obviously fighting inwardly with himself. "And I'll try not to judge you for doing what you did. But here I learn that you moved in on her once again? Maybe you're not the person I thought you were Clark."
Pete could read the remorse all over Clark's face, and bit his tongue before he spilled more regret upon his friend. But he couldn't help it! Never had he been so disgusted, not even when he had found out that this very same friend had been hiding the ultimate secret from him for years. This was so much worse, for now the qualities which Pete had expected to be coupled with those powers which Clark so humbly possessed had seemingly evaporated before his eyes.
"Listen Clark, I know it's hard.but maybe you should stop looking at what you don't have and start concentrating on what you do have. You have a loving admirer even if you don't notice it. You have amazing abilities and up until today I've known you to be a wholly righteous individual. And yet you sit here and feel sorry for yourself. Why? Because your parents love you too much? Because you've been pursuing an empty dream of love for so long? Because you thought good had come of your bad decision? Or just because no one's paying attention to you anymore since everybody found out about Lana's problem? Correction: I'm paying attention to you. But I don't intend to any longer."
Fuming, Pete took the stairs three at a time to get away as quickly as possible. He felt terrible saying such things when Clark had obviously lost so much of all that he had previously had.
He left Clark sitting in an emotional stupor. All in one day he had lost the support of his parents, what he thought was his true love, one of his best friends.and on top of all that, he had lost his own breath of life: his child.