The obligatory "I-don't-own-any-of-the-characters" line: Of course Superman doesn't belong to me.
The obligatory "Please-review-on-my-story" line: They are nice after all.
I had seen him in class once or twice, but since it was a large lecture class, I really had no reason to give him a second look; I didn't even know his name. But when I saw him sitting by the fountain in the main courtyard, I knew that I had to find some excuse to talk to him.
His backpack was leaning up next to him unzipped, and he was writing leisurely on the notebook in his lap. I could tell that he wasn't from Metropolis, because he had an entirely different air about him: his clothes, his posture, his dark hands and face that told me that he got a lot of sun. He was fascinating. And not too hard on the eyes, either, with his chiseled good looks, his sandy hair, and his muscled arms, obviously the result of hard manual labor.
A farm boy, no doubt, I thought, smiling.
I quickly stowed my own notebook in my backpack and walked over, determined to meet this man. Once close enough, I cleared my throat and put on smile.
He looked up from his notebook, pleasantly curious. "Can I help you, miss?"
Yep, definitely a farm boy. "Yeah, hi, sorry to bother you, but you're taking Finance 101 with Professor Milton, right?"
"That I am," he answered, a grin crossing his face.
"I thought so. I've seen you in class before. I was just wondering if I could borrow your notes from last Friday's class. I was sick that day and wasn't able to make it." I had turned on the charm full-force in an attempt to cover up my amusement. Not only had I been in class that past Friday, but I was the class's note-taker. He obviously didn't know that, though, because without another word, without even asking my name, he dug into his backpack and produced a red notebook.
Handing it to me with a smile, he said, "They're all dated, so you should be able to find it easily."
I took it, somewhat disappointed that he didn't even want to know who I was. "How do you know that I'll return them?"
His smile widening, he replied, "I could be paranoid and mistrustful, but I prefer to believe in people."
Right then and there, I knew that I was in love with this mysterious farm boy. Kindness, gentleness, and trustworthiness radiated from him like heat from a flame. The smile on his lips matched the one in his bright eyes.
God, I hope he marries me, I thought, and I immediately felt foolish and embarrassed.
Praying that I wasn't blushing, I smiled, wished him a good day, and walked away, clutching the notebook to my chest.
When I got back to my dorm room, I dropped my backpack next to the desk and plopped onto my bed, opening the red notebook. On the inside front cover was his name written in black permanent marker: Jonathan Kent.
"Finally, a name to put to the gorgeous face," I said to myself, giggling girlishly.
I flipped through and scanned his neat handwriting. He was a very meticulous note-taker himself: his points were neatly arranged with bullets and dashes and no detail was omitted.
As I read, I didn't absorb anything about finance. Instead, I daydreamed about marrying him and living with him on the family farm. There were horses in the stable, cows and pigs in their pens, corn and wheat growing in the acres behind the little yellow farmhouse, and small children running around, enjoying the sunshine and light breeze.
That's when I was brought screechingly back to Earth.
There would be no children in my future. I was barren. I would never feel the joys of motherhood, carrying a living being inside me for nine months, giving birth to him, feeding him, watching him grow and learn, molding him into someone that I could be very proud of.
By the time my roommate, Abby, got back, I was sobbing relentlessly into my pillow, the notebook now lying on the floor. She dropped her backpack and rushed over to me, throwing her arms around me and attempting to soothe me.
When I calmed down enough to speak, I turned my head to face her and, wiping my eyes, told her to reason for my heartache.
"Oh, honey," she said, enveloping me in a hug. "I can't imagine what it must feel like. I know that I would die if I were told that I couldn't have children. I already have a name picked out if it's a boy: Pete, after Peter Frampton." She sighed wistfully, thinking of the singer.
I laughed and pulled out of her arms. Wiping my eyes again, I said, "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Now," she said, standing up and pulling me along with her, "I think you and I need a large dose of chocolate ice cream." She thrust my jacket into my arms. "Come on now!" she added at my hesitation.
Knowing that there was no way to deny her, I put it on and followed her out of the room.
Once we were seated at the 50s-style ice cream parlor, nursing our cones, I told her about Jonathan.
"Just like that?" she asked. "He didn't even ask your name?"
"No! That's what got me the most. It's like he had complete trust in me. Either he's really naïve or…"
Abby smiled. "Well, whatever he is, you should definitely pursue something. At least introduce yourself next time, exchange numbers, set up a 'study date.' " She made quote marks in the air as she said it. Then she winked at me.
I reached over and hit her playfully, scandalized. "Abby! What kind of girl do you think I am?"
She refused to answer, shrugging and taking a large bite of her ice cream.
"Well, even if I were like that," I said, "I doubt he is. I mean, it's painfully obvious that he's from the country, so I'm sure that he has better values than that. And I know that normally I would approach a guy I'm interested in and flirt like crazy and eventually give him my number, but with him, it's different. It's not that I'm afraid to go up to him, not at all. It's just that he's not like other guys, and I don't really know what to do about him. Know what I mean?"
Her eyes sparkled with delight. "You really like this guy, don't you?"
"Of course not!" I replied emphatically, almost spilling my ice cream. "Well, I mean, how could I know that? He doesn't even know my name. For all I know he could have a wife back on the farm."
"It couldn't hurt to find out, could it?"
"No, I suppose not." I banged the table lightly with my fist. "Tomorrow. I'll find out in class tomorrow."
"Make sure to wear your sexy underwear," she said.
"Abby!"