Clark stopped the truck outside Global Cuisine and hopped out. It was strange, for the loss of all his other memories, he hadn't forgotten how to drive.
As he entered the restaurant, rage boiled up inside him. Clark was usually an even-tempered guy, but it was because of this restaurant that he had lost all his memories of his childhood, his friends, and he couldn't even recognize his own parents. That was inexcusable.
He approached the counter, trying to keep his voice flat, resisting the temptation to set the cashiers hair on fire, who was smiling at him from behind the counter.
"Hi can I help you?" She asked, clenching her teeth in a huge, fake smile.
"Yeah, can I please get a small chicken fried rice and a small sushi to go?" He asked in a dreadful, sickly sweet voice, and cringed. Obviously, he was trying much too hard not to yell at the cashier. Clark smiled a little. Like father like son He thought At least I didn't totally lose my cool at some poor telemarketer and tell him exactly where to put his high-quality inkjet cartridge with photographic paper (only $89.95). Upset as he was, Clark couldn't help grinning a little at the memory.
What? The memory?
Did I just have a memory? Clark thought wildly. He searched his brain for it again, desperate to prove to himself that it was a real memory, not just wishful thinking. No, there it was again. He could see it more clearly now. Jonathan yelling, red-faced, down the phone line. Martha, staring at Jonathan, shocked, a half-basted chicken on the bench in front of her. Little Clark, equally as shocked, forgetting his game of trucks and getting ready to start crying.
Clark couldn't believe it. A memory! Perhaps he was cured! He racked his brain for more memories, but after a few seconds, he was convinced that it was the only one, and he sagged, a little disappointed.
The cashier took his money and handed him his order. Clark took it and left the shop, suspended between ecstasy and disappointment.
Chapter Nine – Acquaintance
Clark entered the Torch carrying cartons of rice and sushi. Pete and Chloe looked up hopefully, relieved to see that Clark had the food to be analyzed. While Chloe sent a fax to the lab in Metropolis, Clark took Pete out into the hall. He thought the matter could get very messy if Chloe started asking questions.
"Pete, I had a memory!" He blurted out.
"What? Really?" Pete asked, amazed. "So… you're alright now?"
"No," Clark said "It was only one memory."
"Well what was it?" Pete asked
"I must have been about four." Clark replied. "We were all in the kitchen and dad was going nuts at some telemarketer."
Pete smiled, then frowned. "That doesn't really sound like your dad. Are you sure it wasn't just wishful thinking?"
"No, it was definitely a real memory." Clark replied.
"Well, that's something, at least." Pete said, clapping Clark on the shoulder. Clark opened the door and they went back inside the Torch.
"Ok, well, I sent the fax, and I should get one back soon, maybe late this afternoon." Chloe said, turning around to face them. "If I do, I should be able to get the samples off by morning, which means, if we're lucky, we might get the results back by tomorrow evening."
"Wow, so soon?" Clark asked. Chloe clicked her pen.
"There's no time like the present."
Clark walked out of the Talon with a warm cappuccino in his hand. Pete had driven home, and offered Clark a ride, but he wanted to try running again. He would obviously have to find a slightly more discreet place though. He turned around to walk away, and nearly smacked into a man who was walking in his direction, splashing coffee on his expensive-looking black trench coat.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" Clark exclaimed
"Hey, don't sweat it." The man said. "It was an accident."
"At least let me buy you a coffee." Clark said, feeling in his wallet to make sure he had enough money.
"You don't have to do that…" The man started to protest.
"Please, it's the least I can do." He extended his hand to the man. "I'm Clark Kent."
But instead of shaking his hand, the man drew back, puzzled.
"Clark, are you feeling OK?" He asked. Clark just stared at him. The man stepped forward and placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Clark? It's me. Lex."
In a flash of realization, Clark's eyes darted down to the palm of his hand where his list still remained. Blurry and a bit faded from when he washed his hands, but still readable.
People I Know:
Lana
Lang
Pete Ross
Chloe Sullivan
Lex Luthor
Lex Luthor! Damn! He's gonna think I'm crazy! Should I tell him? No, there's no point. I'll just make something up.
"Lex! I, uh, didn't recognize you!" He invented. It was such a lame excuse. This guy had a rather distinguished look about him. "Did you get a hai – is that a new – the sun is really … sorry. I've been kind of out of it today."
"Clark, are you sure you're feeling OK?" Lex asked. He wasn't buying it.
"Yeah, of course." Clark said, a little shaky. If he blew this, it would mean telling yet another person about his memory loss, which would mean more questions, more covering up, more suspicion, and coming one step closer to finding out Clark's real secret.
"Ok…" Lex said, a little confused. "Um, you take care then…"
"Will do… Lex." Clark said, remembering his name just in time. Then he turned and hurried away, leaving Lex staring after him.
