Monday. November 16th, 2015. 9:25 PM.

• • •

I sat in the back of the cab clutching the flag, folded thickly and precisely, in my arms as the car sped down the street. After the funeral and burial in Arlington, I decided to get on a plane to Kansas. All I had on me was the funeral attire I had worn, my purse and his folded flag. My mother didn't understand why I didn't just use the private plane someone had generously loaned us for the day for anything we needed, but I couldn't sit on that plane longer than I could handle. That plane took me to the funeral, and my mother had spoken to me about what was to happen, preparing me because I refused to listen to others tell me the same thing. The thoughts and emotions were still hanging in the air, and I didn't want to hear my mother say it was a beautiful service.

To say people were shocked to see me at the airport was an understatement. So many people had crowded me in awe, in awe at how beautiful I was, how amazing I looked on TV, how strong I was, so many things drew them to me and before I could be overwhelmed security had me whisked away on one of those golf cart like vehicles. One of the questions I had gotten made me think before I spoke because I was going to almost reveal everything in the hustle and bombardment. I was asked where I was going, and for a split second I almost said "to see his mother", but instead I told them "I needed to get away" and I was reassured by TSA that they would help be checked in discreetly and take me straight to my plane, in first class and away from prying eyes.

The pilot and flight attendants made sure there was nobody around me and that I was secluded. None of them had to do that for me, but they did, and it was because of who I was to Superman. If I weren't the girl who lost her lover, who was loved by the entire world, I would never have had this special treatment. Sighing, I leaned back into the slightly smelly cab seats and closed my eyes momentarily. A ding from my phone caught my attention and the thought that someone had pieced it together, where I was going, who I was going to see, flashed into my mind as I opened the email, but it was just Perry approving my two weeks off from work. A breath I hadn't known I was holding had escaped, and the cab driver spoke up from his seat.

"I know you've heard this a lot but Clark was a good man, and I hate that he was taken from us too soon." The cab drivers brown eyes looked at me sadly in the review mirror and I nodded, "I never knew him as Superman, he had moved away by then, and it didn't take long for a few of us to figure it out, but I'm glad he showed this world compassion and treated it, and it's people better then we treated him."

"Y-you know?" I gasped clutching the flag tighter.

"When we were in the sixth grade our bus had blown a tire and fell into the river, Clark had saved us all. Only a handful of the kids saw it, and we kept his secret...now it's sad that we can't celebrate both men as the same person. Clark is who he was; Superman was his disguise."

I took in his words. He was right; it was hard to talk about Superman and Clark as two different individuals, to have separate memories with both, to know so much about the one and next to nothing about the other...it's almost traumatizing.

"Send my regards to Mrs. Kent, please," He said lastly as we pulled into the long driveway of the Kent farm.

"I will."

I surveyed the house. It was quaint and rugged, well loved. The porch light was on, and another light in the back was too. I passed a fifty to the man who had told me his name was Charles when I had gotten in, but he shook his head and told me I didn't have to, it was on him. Stunned at another kind act form another stranger I could only nod and get out of the car. I watched him drive away adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder before turning to the house. Inside, a dog was barking, and there was a crack of light as the door opened slightly, and then it opened wider and the light cascaded across the ground brushing the pointed toe of my stilettos.

"Annie?" Her voice was tired and deep as if she had been crying.

"Hi, Martha. I, uh, thought I would come to see you." I toed the dirt with my heel, "I couldn't sleep there tonight...not without him again." I explained quickly as she walked up to me wrapping her sweater closer to her body.

"Come inside. I'll get you some coffee. I hope you like casserole; that's all anybody knows how to make." She laughed placing her arm around my shoulders, guiding me inside.

My heels clicked against the hardwood floor, and a black and white dog ran up to me, sniffing excitedly. Martha beckoned him back to his bed, and he had obeyed laying down with a huff. My eyes darted around her house, and I knew immediately that I had liked it. It was lived in and had memories scattered about. Family photos on the mantle and hung on walls while the floors, stairs were all worn as a sign of a family had taken shape over the years. I placed the flag on the table next to my purse and Martha had paused when she turned around from the coffee maker, cup in hand when her eyes fell upon it.

"You came straight from the funeral?" She asked handing me the cup and sat down across from me — her hand smoothing out the light yellow table cloth.

I nodded, "I went to the airport right after."

"How was the flight?"

"Okay,"

"Oh, your casserole!" She jumped up and began searching through the fridge, "Do you have a preference?"

"You don't have to reheat anything for me. I'm not very hungry. I'm okay with the coffee, thank you," I responded.

She nodded and sat back down. As we sat in silence, my mind wandered. I stared at the dark brown liquid in the hand made mug. It was very similar to the one Clark had given me after my first encounter with Superman. The lines and fluidity of the waves were unmistakable, and I smiled softly. His mother had made these.

My eyes drifted to the bright flag, and I cleared my throat catching the time on my watch.

"Oh, Martha, I hadn't realized it was so late. I hope I'm not keeping you up. I know my visit is unexpected."

"I don't mind." She said as her sentence was interrupted by a giant long yawn.

I raised an eyebrow, "Why don't you go to bed? I'm almost done with the coffee. I can handle washing the cup and turning off the lights."

She nodded looking exhausted and got up from the kitchen table, clicking her tongue for her dog to follow once she got to the stairs.

"We don't have a guest room but his room is at the top of the stairs and across the hall is the bathroom. Clarks old college shirts are in the dresser,"

Knowing I'd be sleeping in his bed around his things and childhood memories made my heart swell, and I tore my eyes from his mother.

"Annie,"

I glanced up at her.

"Thank you for coming. I don't think I could be alone right now, either."

• • •

Tuesday. November 17th, 2015. 11:56 AM.

• • •

My body jolted awake. Disoriented I glanced about the room and remembered I had arrived late last night. Groaning at a headache splitting across my temple and the empty feeling in my stomach I kicked off the dark plaid bedspread and hefted my inert body out of bed. With shuffling feet, I walked across the hall to the bathroom.

Once I was finished washing my face, using the toilet and brushing my teeth, I surveyed my appearance in the mirror. I hadn't taken my hair out of its style last night or taken off my makeup, and even though I just washed my face, mascara was still smudged under my eyes. I wiped at the harsh black lines and rinsed the grime off my hand. I even had dark circles under my eyes, and dark hair stuck out haphazardly from my hairstyle. With tired fingers, I pulled the pins out, shook out my hair and massaged my scalp.

Clarks grey royals t-shirt was well worn and large on me. I tugged the fabric over my shoulder and adjusted the tie on his plaid pajama pants. I had to tie them as tight as they'd go and fold it over three times to get it to a length I wasn't tripping over and a better fit around my hips. Downstairs I could hear the clattering of dishes and the smell of breakfast piqued my interest.

Martha was in the kitchen, and she too had dark circles under her eyes, and her movements were slow. On the table were toast, bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes, and orange juice.

"Martha, you didn't have to make all this I'm-,"

She turned to me, "Not hungry, I know. I'm not either, but we both need to eat, and I made extra, so we don't have to make lunch or dinner. Now, sit."

I quickly sat down when her mom voice came out, and I poured a cup of orange juice. She finished up the last two pancakes so in total there was eight, four for the both of us and sat down across from me.

"How'd you sleep?" She asked passing me the syrup.

"Surprisingly better then I have. But I woke up feeling heavy like it didn't help," I replied putting a spoonful of drenched pancakes into my mouth.

"That feeling, it doesn't go away."

I stopped chewing and shot my eyes to her.

"What?"

"The heaviness- I've had it since Jonathan died." She spoke clearly, but her voice cracked as she got choked up, "And now it's tenfold with his death."

"How did you manage?" I asked hoping she would be able to give me insight on how to live life with this heaviness, as she calls it.

"Clark helped me."

Silence crept over us again, and I stared at my pancakes unsure of what to say to her. I didn't know how to make her feel better because I couldn't make myself feel better.

Would I ever feel as I did when he was alive or will his death take my happiness too?

Our conversation was dull, and we kept skating around our emotions. Our words and interactions were almost mechanical as we ate. I tried to bring up different topics, but nothing sounded good to me, so I kept silent. I watched Martha plop a large helping of eggs onto her plate and sigh heavily- trying not to cry into her food. I didn't want to talk about Clark and make her more upset than she already was, but that was all we had in common with each other: we both loved him, and now he was gone.

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