Setting the Rules |
|
I. Accusations I tapped my pencil on the pad, trying to decipher my scribbled note. I was going to do this right, make Clark proud, and give him the world, honestly won. And I could wait until Clark was of age to mention my feelings. I could. Jesus, it was only two more months. And four days. I shuffled through the papers on my desk looking for last month's purchase order printout, and missed it, twice. Last night's dream about the boy wasn't doing my concentration any good at all. Suddenly realizing what my mouth was doing, I bit my lip, then sighed, and put my head down on the desk. The whole world had to be in the hands of people incapable of falling in love. Otherwise, how did anything ever get done? I tried again. The columns had scrolled. No doubt the result of my fist on the keyboard. There were footsteps in the hall. I checked my watch. My schedule was supposed to have been cleared, so this was probably one of my staff. It was time to look like the competent employer. I took a large swallow of coffee and a deep breath. And was shocked to see Clark's mother walk in, looking about as uncomfortable as I suddenly felt. The sharp spasm of guilt angered me. I hadn't done anything. My dreams were not under my control. I pushed the guilt and anger down, and stood up, a puzzled smile on my face. "Mrs. Kent, good morning. I wasn't expecting you." I walked around the desk toward her. "Good morning, Lex," she replied, her brow furrowing and her lips tightening around her words. "Do you have time to talk?" "I'm at your disposal at any time, Mrs. Kent," I said, leading her over to a small sofa. "How do you take your coffee?" I genuinely liked her. Her eyes had a warmth that reminded me of my mother, though it didn't seem to quite be there today. "Black, Lex, thank you," she said, eyeing me almost warily. What was that about? I poured some coffee for her, nearly emptying the carafe. I was definitely hitting the stuff today, not that it was helping. I grabbed my own coffee off the desk and sat down next to her. "What may I do for you?" I asked, handing her the coffee. "I-I really don't know h-how to ask you this," she faltered and looked away. I waited. She looked up at me suddenly. "Lex, are you having an affair with my son?" "What on earth makes you think that?" I could have gone straight for the denial, but was frankly eager to hear what Clark had been saying or doing at home to provoke these suspicions. "Lex, I'm not blind. I've seen the way he looks at you. And" she continued, looking straight at me, "the way you look at him. His eyes sparkle when he talks about you. And he talks about you more and more every day. When I say it, it doesn't sound like much, but..." "but...you're his mother." She nodded. "Mrs. Kent, I assure you," I started, shaking my head, but got no further. Somebody else was coming down the hall. This time, I recognized the step. This was not good. My father had always had the most appalling timing. Sure enough, he swept into the room a moment later. "Mrs. Kent, you remember my father," I sighed, waving vaguely in the direction of the approaching figure. "Mrs. Kent," my father said simply. He'd apparently had his whole say. "Mr. Luthor," responded Mrs. Kent, in much the same way. No love lost here. There was a short, awkward silence. "I really should get home," said Mrs. Kent, getting up and turning toward me with a warming smile. There was no doubt. She was feeling sorry for me. "I'll walk you out," I said, getting up and leading her toward the door. We could finish this conversation in the time it took to get downstairs. Mrs. Kent, however, preferred a postponement. "That's not necessary, Lex," she said, stepping into the hall and looking back at me. I silently mouthed the word 'no,' and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She smiled again, turned, and left. "One down," I thought, looking after her. I turned around, and saw my father sitting on the sofa, a drink in his hand. He was giving me a calculating look. Today was not the day for this. Since my father improved with distance, I went back to my desk, and picked up the pencil. "I'm very busy right now, dad, since you care. If I ask you why you're here, can I get the condensed version?" "No time for your old man, Lex?" he said, walking toward the desk. "How many times do we have to do this?" As many as it takes to get you out of my life. No, not that conversation. Go with thought number two. "I'm in a time crunch, dad." "And I've come all the way from Metropolis to stay involved in my son's life." "I'm sure you know how touched I am by your paternal concern, dad," I said, suddenly finding that I needed something on the other side of the room. "Now, what do you want?" "Only to help you, Lex." "With?" "Your decision-making skills. Concerning the Kent boy." "What about him?" "He's your new toy. Tell me, what exactly is worth that kind of risk?" The pencil wasn't the only thing that snapped. Fine. If my father could believe such a thing of me, let him. "What's the problem, dad?" I taunted. "Is Clark Kent one of your ex-lovers?" "Lex!" Mrs. Kent's voice hit my spine like a wave of liquid nitrogen, and spread to every hidden corner of my body and mind before I could spin around and see her standing in the doorway. |