Martha's house was in disarray. Nothing major—one of the chairs in the sitting room was out of place, the rug usually by the fire was now across the room. Her flour jar was on the counter and a knife was in the sink. The upstairs bathroom was too clean, and moisture lingered there, as if someone had taken a shower in the last half hour. Clark's bed was made, a sight she had not seen for five years.
If not for the note, she would have feared men in black with glowing green rocks, but Clark had written on a half-sheet, "Finished chores. Out with Lex. Will probably get dinner at his place. Your son." It looked like Clark's normal illegible scrawl, and he hadn't included any of the words they'd all agreed to add to any notes written under duress. There was something wrong with the note, though. It looked like something Clark would do but the words weren't the ones he would choose, although she couldn't articulate the difference.
She went out for a walk, to the barn, the lower pasture, was half-way to the upper field before she realized she was checking to see whether or not Clark's chores had been done. She kept going, thought it would help to solidify her fears or erase them. The chores had been done, but there was a sloppiness to them that, again, wasn't like Clark's usual behavior. Piles weren't stacked as neatly, fence posts repaired as solidly, and a couple of the cows seemed perturbed, as if a stranger had been out with them.
She was back at the house before she realized she also didn't know where Jonathan was, and he was supposed to be around the house all day, repairing some furniture. She got her address book out and called Clark's cell phone. It was a long shot, the kid had begged for one and then never seemed to use it to call home and let them know what was happening, but worth a try. It rang once, twice and she started walking towards the stairs, glad for the portable handset. She was going to give Clark a severely disappointed face if she could hear his phone upstairs. But then there was a static-y sound and Clark said, "Mom?"
"Hello, Clark."
"Hello, Mom. Did you not see the note? Lex is, um, Lex is showing me some movies he says my education is incomplete without."
She could hear laughter through the phone, but she couldn't tell if it was from the movie or from Lex. "Yes, I saw the note. I called because your father isn't here. Do you know what hap—?" She heard the door rattle, stepped back towards the kitchen.
"Is everything all right, Mom? I don't know where Dad is. I thought he was shopping with you."
The door opened and she saw Jonathan, frowning but in no obvious distress. "No, he wasn't, but he just walked in the door. I'm just being a nervous nelly. Bye, Clark."
"Bye, Mom."
"Martha," said Jonathan as he stepped in. "Martha, I saw—." He stopped and swallowed audibly. He walked into the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of orange juice and drank.
He looked too miserable to be reprimanded.
"I saw Lex and Clark kissing. Lex came over, said he had to talk to Clark, so I pointed him to the barn. Then I needed a hammer to work on that table leg, and I went—." He shook his head, swallowed more orange juice. "Kissing. Looked like the end of Casablanca or something. I got in the truck and went for a ride, so I wouldn't do something stupid, like when he ran away."
Martha tried hard not to, but she couldn't help herself. She laughed. "They've been making eyes at each other since they met, Jonathan. I'm really not surprised. A little disappointed, maybe, but not surprised."
Jonathan didn't say anything, just gave her that look that said, "Liberal city girl like you is disappointed her son is a big gay alien?"
She shrugged. "Being involved with Lex Luthor won't be safe, the way Lana Lang would have been, the way just about any girl in Smallville would have been. But I don't see it's much more dangerous than being Lex's friend. I'm just glad they clean up after themselves and Lex didn't get hurt."
Jonathan frowned at her.
She waved her hand back towards the living room. "I'm pretty sure they only started with kissing."