Disorientation
…
…
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do, and I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
…
Clark rose to his feet as the door opened and the red-haired woman exited.
"Clark?" Martha asked frowning as she scanned the small waiting area that was situated outside of her office. "You're here?"
He gave her a wry look and shrugged. "That's not quite the reception an only son expects from his mother."
Clark felt somewhat better when his mother's expression softened and she rushed over to hug him. "I'm sorry, honey, you know I'm glad to see you." She pulled back and rubbed a hand over the lapel of his jacket. "It's just that Noelle told me that Lois was here."
"She was. She left." Clark's shoulders drooped. Lois had been sitting in the private waiting area when he had arrived. After the grocery store incident the day before, he didn't really blame her for the awkward exit she'd made.
His mother studied his face for a minute and he once again felt like a little boy being scrutinized about a missing cookie. Martha had the power to make him feel like he was four feet tall even when she was craning her neck to look up at him.
Finally, she stepped back and sighed. "Come on inside," she said, waving him toward the office.
Clark followed her, suddenly aware that his mother was hurting too. She was missing Lois, and his appearance had disrupted any time they might have spent together. When his mother sat down on the couch, he slowly lowered to sit down next to her.
"I guess we should work out a schedule for visitation rights," he offered, trying to insert some levity so his mother would stop giving him the 'are you eating right' stare down.
"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" she returned with a smile.
She reached out to brush the hair from his forehead and he felt the tension slowly leave his shoulders. He was grateful that he could come and see her like this. It helped.
"Life is never dull in the life of a state senator, huh?" he asked, feeling more relaxed.
"Hardly," Martha answered laughing. "The things that this government concerns itself with – and the things it refuses to acknowledge…" she trailed off. "To tell you the truth, Clark, I don't how long you and the League will be able to stay under the radar. There have been a lot of questions popping up lately."
Clark nodded. "I know, Diana and I were just talking about that last night…"
He felt, more than saw, the focus of his mother's gaze sharpen at the mention. "Diana?" she asked.
He also recognized the mother tone in the way she said the name. "She was just in town for dinner."
She was silent, but the look on her face spoke volumes – or rather, asked volumes.
Clark suddenly found the wallpaper pattern fascinating.
"Tell me you didn't, Clark."
Frowning, he tried to figure out, which 'didn't' she wanted him to tell her about. If it was the 'didn't' he was thinking of… Finally, he just shrugged.
"Oh, honey." She gave him a thoughtful look. "You know, one day, you are going to tell me…"
"Mom!" He hoped she wasn't on the 'didn't' he was thinking about.
"Clark, this is Lois we're talking about." Her tone and expression was full of concern. "What? Do you expect me to not want to know?"
Clark felt his teeth grit. He didn't want to talk about this with her because he didn't want to defend anything. It was what it was. It actually surprised him a bit that she even knew about it… maybe Lois had been able to talk to her before he had…
"One day everything is fine, and then the next the two of you can't be in the same room with one another?"
He looked down to avoid her searching eyes. "We didn't tell you we were together because we knew this could happen," he explained.
Martha laughed – and the sound was both amused and sad. "You don't think I knew from the start?"
Clark lifted his head and looked at her – his mind racing. How had she known? Did she know everything? Please, don't let her know everything.
He tried too late to school his features and his mother smiled at him softly as she took his hand.
"You were happy," she stated simply. "Deliriously." She squeezed his hand gently. "What changed?"
What changed? Clark asked himself, repeating his mother's words. He didn't quite know how to answer that one. With a sigh, he pulled his hand away and rose from the couch, walking over to the large window that lined the south wall of the office, and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
He gazed down on the city below the office building. Below him, people scurried around unaware of half of the dangers he and his team worked to keep them ignorant from every day.
"It's a lot of pressure, you know?"
"What is, honey?"
Clark rubbed a hand over his face and then looked at the dim reflection of himself in the glass. "There's the me who's at the farm, free in my skin. Then, there's the me, when I'm at school – the professional version, when I'm at work. The me who's embracing all the powers and destiny stuff when I'm with the League…" He stopped there, feeling a little stripped now that he had reduced himself to these layers.
"And the you that you are with Lois?"
He gazed at the almost translucent man in the glass. If he was barely there… then where would he be whole? "It's just too many, Mom."
He turned to face the couch where his mother still sat. He must have turned before she was ready because he caught sight of the disappointed and hurt look that was on her face before she schooled her features.
That look meant that she had just figured it out. She knew what he had done in an attempt to retain some pieces of himself.
Some of the disappointment still tinged the creases by her eyes. Either it was too much for her to hide, or she was so upset that she didn't want to.
"You're on her side, aren't you?" he asked, feeling those old defenses start to rise.
Martha scoffed lightly. "Her side? I'm not on anyone's side here, Clark. You are my son. Nothing changes that. No matter what you do."
Clark felt himself stiffen. 'No matter what you do,' she'd said. So she did blame him. "But?" he asked, knowing the catch was in the air – unvoiced, but certainly not un-thought of.
Unexpectedly, his mother smiled. "There is not but to me loving you," she said. "But I can't understand why you continuously choose sadness over happiness."
The words pulled some of his defensiveness away – leaving traces of bitterness in its tracks. "I don't… I didn't choose to be me, Mom. All I'm trying to do is keep the secret dad died to protect." It came out a little more forcefully that he had planned, but sometimes that's how things came out when you withheld from saying them for so long.
His mother's expression was troubled and her voice was quiet. "You have never needed our permission to deal with your secret. In fact, we always seemed to find out about your actions after the fact." Her tone went down another octave, "Don't put your decision to not tell someone about who you are inside on the memory of your father."
The look in her eye was one he had never been on the receiving end of, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize. Instead, the words that came out of his mouth were, "You don't understand."
Martha pushed up from the couch and walked over to stand in front of him. "Then make me understand, Clark. Explain it to me."
His head ducked. "I can't."
His mother was about to say something when the intercom beeped.
"You should take that," he said, gaining some of his posture back. He was starting to feel that a meltdown had been avoided. The intercom beeped again, and he gestured to it with his hand.
Martha's face still carried a concerned look. He knew that she wanted to continue their conversation, so he reached over her desk and depressed the speaker button. He gave his mother a look once the line was open.
"Yes, Noelle?"
"Senator, your conference call with Senators Brady and Keaton is about to begin."
Martha frowned at Clark as she rounded her desk. "Thank you, Noelle. Go ahead and patch it through to line one and then come on in with your notepad."
"Yes, Senator."
Within seconds, the light on the phone that designated line one began blinking.
"I'm going to go," Clark announced, walking toward the door. He stepped aside to let the secretary enter, and then moved to leave again.
"Clark."
He turned to face his mother at her call. The concern was still etched in her features.
"Will you call me tonight?"
When his hesitation caused her eyes to narrow, he nodded. "Yes… sure."
He watched as she accepted the phone handset from Noelle. "Promise?"
Clark nodded, waving at her as he began to back out the door.
"Clark."
He turned again, poking his head through the door he had just exited.
"Lois is not Lana. Don't make the mistake of treating her like she is."
…
TBC