---- Chapter 38
2/6/18
In what seems to be a common occurrence these days, Clark and I spent four hours tonight at the Wayne Manor. We're usually there longer, since it isn't exactly a skip and a hop away, but we have work tomorrow. It was for a good occasion, though, because we got to celebrate the fourth birthday of a very special young man tonight: one Jack Wayne, son of Bruce and Chloe Wayne.
When we got there, we walked into what can only be described as a wonderland of balloons, streamers and the like. It looked like we had stumbled into ground zero of a large party explosion. That would actually be an interesting way to decorate.
What had really happened was Chloe and Bruce hadn't bothered to take down all the decorations from the party for his friends the weekend before (it's currently Tuesday). I'm surprised that they could live without moving around all the junk in there, but I have to admit, it made things festive.
The Wayne Manor has certainly brightened since Chloe started living there, but that just means it went from dark to not as dark. They did all the decorating themselves while taking care of two month old twins, which is just a crazy notion since they could have hired somebody to do it for them. That they do those types of things themselves in such a huge place when they could avoid it is just another declaration of love for their son, though, in my mind.
Once we got past all the decorations walking in, Jack and his parents greeted us and we wished him a happy birthday. Clark and I both got a hug, and he got to our present right away. He's been very into baseball for a three (now four) year old, so Chloe suggested we get him a bat, which we did. He loved it, and Chloe said it went well with the glove that he got from them. I hope he gets to use it with his friends and show them that his 'Aunt Lo' gets him the best things. If Clark feels he should be mentioned as well, I guess that would be ok.
Martha sent along a present with us, which turned out to be a baseball signed by Jack's favorite player in MLB (and also the only name he knows from the league), a guy named Hunter Pence that plays for the Metropolis Monarchs. The woman is unbelievable when it comes to gifts (she got me the most gorgeous pen I've ever seen for my birthday last year, and then a collection of vinyl White Snake albums for Christmas) and I hope we can be half as thoughtful about it one day. Since my mind resets itself, the task falls to Clark (that's my story and I'm stickin' to it).
She also sent along baby clothes for Aly and Liz, which Chloe loved like crazy. Aly got a little yellow thing that Chloe thought was just the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. Then she looked at the little pink thing that Martha had sent for Liz, and she declared it was also the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. You can tell by the way I call them little things that I also thought they were the most adorable things I had ever seen.
Her only complaint was that they'd outgrow them before too long and she wouldn't get to see anybody wear them anymore unless she gave them to somebody else since she is officially done with the baby making business (apparently three is her limit). When she said that, I'd have sworn she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I don't think she was trying to be subtle about it, either. Sometimes I still don't give her enough credit for her investigative skills.
After unwrapping his presents, Jack had to try out his bat. Everybody went outside, including the bundled up twins, one of which hitched a ride with me. Bruce and Clark both tossed a few underhanded pitches to him while Chloe and I watched, each with a baby in hand. Had I not known any better, I would have sworn that we were in a 1950's TV show; the women were taking care of the young girls while the men played baseball with the boy. Then Aly spit up on me and any thoughts about 'idyllic' times were gone.
While I cleaned up, everybody else headed into the kitchen and got the cake set up with candles. When I got back with them, the song was sung and everybody enjoyed the baked good. It was amazing, and I haven't been eating much recently. Chloe bought it from some little bakery called Van Der Meer's. I got the address and phone number from her and plan on sending Clark for a cake run in the near future.
(Whenever you're reading this, I'm sure you'll be able to just mention the name of the bakery and he'll get it for you. Not that he's an errand boy, but an occasional cake retrieval won't hurt him.)
I still find it unbelievable that Chloe has a four year old son. I've known about him and gotten to know what a special kid he is ever since I woke up not knowing when or where I was, but I still find it hard to wrap my head around the fact that Chloe, my own personal Chloe, can have a son that is almost old enough to attend school. I think I need another year to come around and really get that Chloe has a four year old, and by that time he'll be five.
I can't win.
What's a girl to do, though? I guess she just has to roll with the punches, go where the wind takes her and all that ridiculousness that drives me nuts. I love my cousin (shouldn't I just call her my sister at this point), her husband and her children too much not to. For the record, though, which seems silly since you're me but I'm saying it anyway, I hate it when I have to roll with the punches. Too much rolling and I start getting dizzy.
But when it comes to my Chloe's offspring, I find myself willing to do pretty much anything for them. I know I don't love them like Chloe and Bruce do, not with that "overwhelming passion" Chloe described it as, which she also said was a poor description because it was hard to put into words, but I do love them a ton. I am in the odd position of finding myself head over heels with three young people, though, only one of which is even old enough to refer to me as 'Aunt Lo,' which for some reason I always enjoy hearing.
It's a little disconcerting to know that once removed cousins can tug on my heartstrings like they do.
I guess, when it comes right down to it, I shouldn't be all that surprised. How could I not love Chloe's children? These were the kids that I remember thinking would probably be the only children in my life (you know how I looked at us as a potential mother after Lucy). I had planned on spoiling them rotten until Chloe got sick of it and told me to stop.
Of course, I could have never have imagined that she would marry Bruce Wayne, the man with more money than I can imagine. As much as Chloe denies that they do not give their brood everything they could possibly want, I find that it's been very difficult for us to spoil the children of ridiculously rich people. I swear that I'm going to find a way, though. They deserve it.
It's a funny thought, though, thinking about kids that deserve to be spoiled. All kids deserve to be spoiled, really, but not a whole lot of them get to be.
It's just that children are such a strange topic. To use a funny quote from a great comedy, they're loud, you can't understand them... they're like tiny cab drivers.
Not that I have anything against cab drivers; they get me from point A to point B on a frequent basis. I enjoy the conversations, and when they recognize me from the paper they're almost always giddy about having a celebrity in the cab. Of course, anybody that thinks of me as a celebrity is a nut. I'm just a reporter that does her job well.
But, back on children... you know how it was. After finding out that you were married to Clark, I bet you thought back to when you figured that if you ever got married, it would just be something to get peopled off your back. It would be an avoidance technique against being set up on dates with your friends other single friends when you were forty, because if you weren't married then everyone else would probably try to remedy that for some reason.
Or maybe it would just be a way to keep from living by yourself until you died, finding a lovable loser that would love you no matter what because you were really hot and taking pity on him. Either way, there would very likely never be any children involved in it. What kid would deserve to be cursed with us for a mother?
And then the accident happened. It was a life changing event before the extent of our mental injuries even showed up. But the physical... I don't remember the physio, of course, but I do have the scars on my face and under my clothes as proof the attack happened. As you've probably noticed by having them on your own face (or seeing pictures, if they've come up with technology to erase scars), they're not exactly a turn on.
And then, there's the forgetting. There are a lot of scenario's that I imagined my life taking, especially once I figured out my love for journalism. Most of them included being the best journalist in the world. None of them included not being able to remember I was the best. I can't remember, of course, but after the first time I woke up without my memory I must have felt hopeless. The boyfriend left, not able to handle it, and it must have been a very Clarkish moment of brooding that I was going to end up alone, not even with the marriage of convenience later in life.
How we ended up finding a man that could love us in spite of the fact we won't remember that love, I'll never know. We are not exactly the most cuddly person in the world, as I hear told.
But this accident... I can't imagine what having a baby could be like, knowing that I am going to forget about him or her. What kind of life is that for a child? Sure, on the one hand you have Super Dad, which is the greatest thing a child could have. And on the other, you have the Amazing Forgetting Mom, able to lose any and all memories that happened after June 7th, 2008, children included, in a single night.
It kills me that I won't be able to remember Jack, Aly and Liz if or when I forget again. But when I think about a baby, a living part of me and more importantly Clark, that has a useless mother that can't remember it? It very literally brings tears to my eyes, and I hate crying.
Any child Clark and I have will be stuck with the fact that its mother won't get to remember it. This is on top of the fact that I would be a god awful mother, just god awful. What could I possibly offer a child? I could teach he or she how to question somebody so that they'll actually answer the questions you want answered, but I don't think that's something children really need to know until they're at least twelve.
I can't cook, so I wouldn't be useful there. I had to grow up so quickly after mom died that I don't even remember what it's like to play as a kid, ironic as it is that I forget something so simple from before the attack. I do remember raising Lucy as best I could, but given a choice that isn't something that I would pass on to any child.
I know you've probably figured it out by now, since my pen is rambling much like my mouth would if I were speaking: I'm pregnant. Plus, ya know, there's probably a kid running around somewhere and knowing when it was born, you've done some pretty simple math.
I haven't told Clark yet. He's probably going to be as happy as he's ever been to find out that's he's going to be a father. I want to be happy about this, because I see how happy Chloe is with her kids and, as unlikely as it seems, it makes me envious. I want that happiness. But I'm so worried, so overwhelmed by what could go wrong that I can't see the light, the happiness that I want.
I just don't think that motherhood is something I can do, no matter how much I want it (Jesus, I really want it). Toss me somewhere remote and I can survive; the General made sure of that. But put a life in my hands, a totally dependent little person, and make sure that it attains the skills it needs to be a good person? How do you even do that?
I think the only thing I have to offer this child is life and love, at least until I forget again. I hope it can be happy with what he or she gets.
Lois closed the diary and took a breath, not having realized she'd been holding it. It was so strange to read something that mirrored what she thought her own thoughts would be like if she found out she were pregnant for the first time. Well, she had found that out, in a way, but she'd had buffers against the self doubt. She was still finding herself doubting despite them at times. Years of self doubt was hard to kill in half of a month.
Lois ran a hand over the outside of the diary, thankful for the fact that she found it so soon after forgetting. It was an invaluable tool in adjusting herself to a new year, a new family and a new outlook on life. She had been happy in the past, but it had never been an unreserved happy: she'd always expected something to go wrong or had her gloomy outlook of what was coming in her life.
But now, she found herself in an unrestrained happiness. It was foreign, but she loved it. She knew that she was going to forget in the future, but she didn't let it loom over her. Instead, she focused on her husband, a man that loved her flaws as much as he loved her mind. She focused on her daughter, a person she never thought she'd know and couldn't imagine her life without now. And she focused on her son, the fetus she loved more than she'd ever thought she could.
The name Almond Joy really did fit him. At least, she thought that her unborn child was a him. After the vision of a little boy she'd had during a flight with Clark, which had been more vivid than any daydream she could remember, she just knew that the baby inside her was a him. Was there such a thing as mother's intuition about an unborn baby?
Good lord, what was she going to do with a son? She had some long ago experience with Lucy to draw upon for raising Jordan, but her son, her little boy was going to be a completely new experience. To be realistic, any baby was going to be a new experience, at least to her. She'd had one and raised her to the age of three, as proven by Jordan existing currently, but since remembering it was an obstacle, this was going to be her first experience with everything.
Her first labor and delivery, her first diaper change, the first time her baby cried through the night... why were all these firsts things that sounded, painful, annoying and tiring?
Then she thought about the first time that her son would grip her finger, the first time that he would stop crying simply because he was in her arms and the first time he would smile. Those were the firsts she would hold in her heart, even when they weren't in her mind anymore.
She put the diary down and let both her hands rest on her stomach, then ran them over it as she felt the contours. It was yet another odd sensation in her life: she was smiling as she ran her hands over an ever expanding stomach that she was so used to working hard to keep flat.
But she didn't want it to be flat anymore. Right now (and she doubted it would last) she was happy that it was round and, for lack of a better word, protruding. It was proof, visual evidence that her son existed and was growing inside her. And there was another odd thought she couldn't believe she was used to: the fact that she was growing a person inside of herself. Seeing other women do it was just something she would run into from time to time. Actually doing it, and having a baby inside of her that she was now feeling move around...
Lois shook her head at the intensity of her thoughts and looked at a clock. It was just after six in the evening; they'd gone into work that morning like the previous day had just been another. She thought it was going to be something that she'd obsess about and not be able to get out of her head, but she was surprised at how when she concentrated on work and on her love for Clark, everything was alright.
They hadn't focused on the bomb too much. They'd theorized about who was behind it, and while it could be any number of people with a grudge against the mayor, Lex seemed to be the obvious choice. Maybe Sackett had been trying to distance himself from Lex, who knows, but not a whole lot of people have access to kryptonite and that kind of bomb technology.
Jordan had spent the previous night at the farm, as she and Martha had agreed to while Clark was missing, and so he was bringing her home for the first time in what felt like forever for Lois. She just wanted to pull her baby girl into a hug and never let go, knowing that those little arms wrapping around her neck would make everything else melt away.
All in all, it had been a surprisingly stress free day. Nothing too major at work, even when Superman had been needed. The emergencies had been minor, and thought during the first one Lois had started to think about Clark having another bomb with kryptonite hidden in it, when he'd returned a few minutes later her fears had been allayed.
Lois heard the door open and smiled. She pushed the diary under her pillow, stood up and walked out into the living room, where she found Jordan bouncing up and down about something. Her smile grew wider.
"Hey there, bouncy."
Jordan turned and vaulted into her arms, causing Lois to have to take a step back to keep from falling over. "Well, did you miss me or are you just having a jump into your mother's arms kind of day?"
Jordan looked at her, frowning. "The first one, I think."
"Doesn't matter." Lois pulled her up a little higher and hugged her a little tighter, getting the same in response. "How was the farm?"
"Fun, but I missed you. Why didn't daddy come get me yesterday?"
"Sometimes adults can't stop some things from happening and getting in the way, baby girl. If I have a choice, it'll never happen again and you'll spend every night with your parents." Lois lowered Jordan back onto her hip. "So, did daddy tell you what we're doing for dinner?"
She shook her head, and Lois looked to Clark. "Me either. I have a sneaking suspicion that he wants to surprise us with something we're going to object to, like nothing but vegetables." She stuck out her tongue at Jordan and her daughter did the same at her.
She looked over and watched Clark roll his eyes. "I would never do that, Lo, to you, our daughter or me. For your information, we're having oven roasted chicken with baked potatoes, green beans and rolls."
"That sounds great. Need some help?"
"Yes I do." He walked over to them and pulled Jordan away from her, smirking. "And now I have an assistant that will not give us all food poisoning."
"Oh, ha ha, Smallville. Can you even get food poisoning?"
"I've never let you cook anything that would have the chance of doing so."
"Let me?"
"I don't mean it in the bossing around way. More of a beat you to the punch kind of thing, really. I don't mind making dinner and you're awful at making dinner, so things work out. Since you like home cooked meals and I was raised on the very definition of home cooking, things work out again. And the few times you try to cook, things usually end up inedibly OVER cooked, which, oddly enough, is also things working out."
Lois walked over and leaned on the breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living room, smirking at him. "So, really, you've never been able to eat my cooking because I can't cook? You've never had the chance to get food poisoning from me."
"Remember, you gave yourself food poisoning when reheating a meal that I made after you'd eaten it two days before and been fine. It was sufficiently covered, and when I made Chloe some leftovers when she was in for a quick visit the day before you had some, there was no problem."
That was something Lois really wanted to remember so she could refute his theory that she was to blame for that, be it true or not.
"Fine, I get the point, I can't cook. It's a good thing it's 2021 and not 1951." She walked around into the kitchen and slapped him on the butt. "Now get to work, sweet cheeks."
Lois grabbed Jordan away from him again, smiling as she walked back out into the living room. She knew one thing would never change: she was always going to get the last word in.
"May I call him sweet cheeks too, mommy?"
As a groan came from the kitchen, Lois burst out laughing, hugging Jordan a little closer for a second. Maybe her baby girl was going to be the one getting the last word in from now on. One way or another it was a Lane woman, and that was alright with her.
