The Mirror

Will the real Tyler Durden, please stand-up? - The Mirror part 5

'Lois, you're slumber parties are like totally awesome!'
The attempt to re-ignite our original bond via a mutual contempt for all things Valley-Girl, isn't a game Lois wants to play
But as much as I know that what she really wants is to begin her lecture, the idea of seeing me, walk out of the tiny bathroom of her small condo, with a towel wrapped around my hair as if it were a beehive hairdo, is just enough ridiculousness to knock her intensity down.
But
Lois, being Lois
She quickly recovers with a snarky retort that she had formed, then set aside like an icy snowball on a winter's day:
'The second-hand shop wants you to know you still have a hundred and sixty-five dollars in store credit due to your spoiled girlfriend's inability to understand how money works.'
I see the verbal slap of reminding me that Faora is still Lex Luthor's arm-candy as a move by an experienced boxer who is working the edges so they can get their opponent into a corner where a real beat-down can be delivered
But I have just taken a shower
Washed my hair with a shampoo and conditioner that came out of separate bottles
And if it wasn't for the sauna I created by using every ounce of Lois Lane's hot-water, I may have even stayed in there to blow-dry my hair, just so I could give her this fashion show with style as well as heartfelt appreciation 
But even though I was prematurely forced out onto the runway, I can see the crowd is already warmed up
My act starts with arms held out so Lois can see how everything fits perfectly
So much so, that I have to take a second to admire what the fogged bathroom mirror would not show me with clarity
To me, the rigid denim of the dark denim jacket is an object worthy of admiration
I speak of the jacket as if I was reunited with an old friend:
'Sweet!'
I make sure she can see the appreciation in my eyes before letting out the reason for my astonishment:
'I'll never get why people give up new looking clothes'
For her part in our slumber-party, Lois has been patiently kind
But she has also strategically patient
Not saying a single contrarian word about my actual condition after I said I did not need a hospital, but a only shower
Visibly resisting her inner desire to start lecturing me
Or
Start making demands
Not even asking me one question about Gotham after I volunteered the part about how our mutual friend, Colonel Hardy, and I got, reacquainted
For Lois took consolation in the fact that whatever was in my head, it is now in the government's possession
It is though, my plan for what I should do next that shocked her into sitting quietly
Her thoughts on the defensive
Letting her mind develop a plan before she let her mouth start moving
Having kept the peace by offering peace
The peace of her small condo
She knows now is the time to strike
For she knows that although the battle Gotham is over, the battle for Metropolis has just begun
But now
My victimization and her career instinct to campion the underdog is combining with with an even greater irresistible force
Love
Wearing clothes, either she or Martha picked out
The demands of Lois's big-picture worldview shrinks to that of a worried sister.
And so
With Lois desperate need to keep seeing me as the enemy crumbling, she rekindles her fighting-spirit by reaching for what is easiest to disapprove of:
My missing fashion sense.
It is all she can do to keep her jab from going lower than snarky:
'Maybe because nobody really wants to look like John Denver, anymore'
She considers the t-shirt I have on underneath the denim-jacket
Sneers it without the malice it needs to be effective:
'Or Fonzi.'
But to me, anything, is better than looking like a vomit splattered, escaped prisoner.
And so trying to do the math of a second-hand jacket, plus: a pack of t-shirts, pack of socks, new jeans, belt, and most importantly, a new pair of the blacked out Converse high-tops; my response is to keep surrendering to her kindness:
'How much do I owe you, Lois?'
The anger, fury and frustration she wants to hit me with, crashes head-on into who Lois Lane is as a person
Her internal tug-of-war won by her unmotivated inner-attorney who decides a visual aid is what the jury needs
With a snatch of the remote, she turns on the TV
And true to my assumptions, her TV is set to a news channel
A 24-hour news station
Perfectly cued for her opening argument
A muted newscaster is showing a breaking video clip:
US Military vehicles are being pelted with rotten fruit as their convoy leaves Gotham
Lous watches me as I watch the TV
Not liking one bit the smile forming on my face
That I am on the wrong side of her version of history is all the trigger she needs to remember the real point of me being here
Me being here is her last chance to encourage me to be a responsible citizen
Like a good arguer, Lois starts with a simple thesis:
'Tyler, please do not bring Gotham's madness into Metropolis'
I skip over what is normally the polite cocktail-party position of:
Can we agree to disagree?
Because we both know that Gotham and Metropolis are so different they might as well be on separate planets
And so my counter argument begins by pointing out why her evidence is my evidence:
'Look closer, Lois...'
She doesn't; so I point at what she is obviously not seeing because she is only focused on the fact no one is waving a flag
'Cops and regular people are standing side by side' 
Finally, she looks
And with her not looking I hit her hard:
'Maybe when the army finishes getting the hell out of Gotham, those same people will start seeing each other as fellow Gothamites again?'
With the trap set, she springs it by changing the channel to a local TV station:
A crowd has formed on the sidewalk in front of Lex-Plaza: Posters preach on the evils of medical experimentation; a line of cops, standing a polite distance from the protest discourages it from approaching any closer to LexCorp's headquarters.
Anger and frustration start to win her internal tug of war as Lois exclaims the obvious:
'Metropolis isn't Gotham!'
Like duh!
I plead no-contest to her charge because I have already told her my plan:
'Lois turn that off.'
Not wanting see the anger at how I have just ignored her opening argument, I turn back to the mirror
A mirror she has strategically hung at the corner everyone must pass to exit her small condo
A place to check, one last time, if you are ready to go out and face with world, with your face
Fake smile rewards my unsmiling reflection.
That I am not happy with me manifests as the yank on the towel holding wet hair so I may finish double checking the me, others will see...
The verdict is harsh
Even when compared to a real monster:
Your eyes will never sparkle like his did
How do you know what they do when insanity is being released?
Well, they're nowhere near as beautiful as hers are
And why do you want to be beautiful?
Grin pulls mouth open wide.
Plain old, regular-human teeth
Teeth without cavities are good enough!
I stick out my chin
Look at the deep scar running from beneath the eye to the end of my face
You should put some make-up over that
A heavy coat of white make-up...
But then no one will see it when I smile.
Then paint a smile on!
Gaze shifts to the slicing scar on my ear
Up to the knot of a scar on the end of my eyebrow
I run a hand through hair
Monster!
Behind me Lois is just watching with morbid fascination   
I catch her stare
Smile as I see another way to convince Lex to go along with my plan:
'Do you have any of that hair product left?'
Lois's expression says she can hear the loudspeaker's announcement:
Sanity has left the building.
Exasperation at how quickly a serious conversation was derailed, again, Lois turns away as I say it to convince her that my original my plan is still the only one that will work
And this extra idea is just me keeping all means of viability open:
'I think if I had curls maybe Lex would be interested in what I have to say.'
With a huff of disappointment for my unseriousness Lois turns off the TV
With the news, off, I take a second look at her condo while still pretending to look in the mirror
Decide to give her a taste of her own medicine as she tries to see what I am really looking at:
'Speaking of, I really thought your place would be more girly.'
Not a cluttered collection of books, magazines, journalistic awards, and framed photographs of her with people of interest or in dangerous locations
She sees the danger of me for me
Her warning is a blunt one:
'Tyler, trying to meet with Lex is a bad idea.'
I look back to me
Take a step back from the two-foot square turned into a diamond so it may offer as much vertical as possible
A change in perspective does not help:
You're too skinny
Too beat up
Hair is too unhealthy
Eyes are too sad
No wonder you never had a chance!
The succession of blows knocks me away from more needing more of a reality check
Self-soothing hands stroke hair as I pretend to collect wet hair off of my shoulders
A heavy breath refocuses thoughts on what must be done, no matter how small the chance of success really is:
'Lois, this is the only way I have to get a clean break from these assholes'
She can see it.
Can see that you are the one who is breaking.
I shut-down her pity-party before it can gain momentum:
'If I don't this, the rest of my life is gonna be ruined by a need to look over my shoulder.'
She points to the TV that is now off:
'Please tell me you are not going there to incite a riot.'
I have already told her what I am going to do
Agreeing to her demand is a given
So rather than repeat myself, I explain why her fear is a stupid plan:
'Lois, the first thing I got to do is get those people out of there, or he'll just be more pissed when I do get to see him.'
With one threat scratched off her list, she moves on to her next fear:
'And what if he decides getting rid of you is the best plan?'
She has leaned-in with a pointing finger to punctuate the implied threat she knows I feel
That her real worry is not for me, comes out of her as a rush of worry for the person she more than cares about:
'You are just going to drag Clark back into the mess you said you wanted to pull him away from!'
Seeing where her heart is leaning, I fight fire with fire:
'No Lois!'
Volume knocks her mind into neutral
With her attention gained, I let the tension out of the room
'Whatever happens, Clark has to stay out of it!'
An uneasy truce develops as we wait for the other to blink
So I blink as I begin a heartfelt plea-bargain:
'Please tell me you'll make sure he does.'
That I am sticking to a story I have told her, repeatedly, allows what I have said to not only be believable, but be repeated enough to become my last will and testament
A spoken fact that Lois knows she can use against Clark if his conscience gets in the way, of him, remembering who I am
She nods acceptance
Giving-up her fight with a heavy sigh
Her eyes begin to drift a wandering scan of my scarred face
Stopping at the one thing that I think I still have going for me
Attacking it without mercy with a joke that says she is finally accepts my vacant position of big-sister:
'Tyler, I don't think anything can help that shaggy mop of yours.'
I hear it for the surrender it is, and so begin my counter-attack, by hitting her while she is enjoying her insult:
'Lois, hair product is for insecure girls.'
That I too am willing to play the mean sister game without malice pushes her to fully assume the role
She grabs the jacket
Shakes me
I smile as I let go into her two handed-rocking
Lous stops playing as soon as she sees me welcoming our role play as sisters
Letting out a sigh as her eyes search me for an answer to a question she has been asking herself with greater frequency:
'There really is no, Tyler Durden, is there?'
Hearing authentic concern in her voice is my cue to throw her under the bus she is trying to hit me with:
'Oh, the real question is, who is Lois Lane?'
Her expression falls flat as the idea hurtles towards her
'Are you an investigative reporter, who loves to fly solo?'
She steps back from the unexpected assault
'Or a devoted wife and loving mother?'
Lois frowns at the idea it is okay for me to question her identity when clearly mine has critical issues
But she cannot think her way out of this argument fast enough to stop an idea that is my continual thought whenever I think about how Lois Lane is the key to world peace:
'One who spends her spare time organizing the local community?'
The problem manifesting in her expression is one our culture has assigned her, and she steps into the trap, right on schedule:
'Tyler, modern women can do both'
The landmine I planted in the middle of her path, goes off:
'No, Lois, nobody gets to cherry-pick only the good parts from different lives and not also be to blame when little Clark shoots up the school playground because all the discarded parts of those different lives came home to roost while everyone was out shopping.'
She can't believe that I am blaming her, personally for the world's problems
Her inner policy-wonk comes out with its own self-fulfilling thesis:
'Which is why positive-messaging is so important in shaping correct opinions!'
The backhand against blaming, or praising, the messenger, is already swinging:
'Oh, yeah let's blame videogames, so no one has to look in the mirror and face what our two-income family-plan is actually purchasing.'
She cannot believe it is happening, but she still fires the accusation at me simply because of what I am implying:
'Tyler, how are you, of all people, a misogynist?'
With her chin out, I land a hard one on it:
'I didn't say a woman couldn't role-play as the man.'
She looks at my hair with a suspicion affirmed as I keep going:
'In fact, I think we both know, the problem with men is that they think being born with a penis was a victory they earned.'   
She looks back to me with a new understanding
Hearing that I am only giving her, her side's share of the blame; because what I am really doing is something only a close-friend would dare attempt, her fighting-spirit falters
With her thoughts beginning to see what we are really talking about, I hit her has hard as I can:
'No one can change the world, Lois'
That I am driving her towards Smallville, is now clear.
'Hell, most people can't even change themselves'
Panic that I have caught her, on an issue she has left dangerously undecided, causes her to run from the issue by looking out the window to hide her uncertainty
And, in doing so
Lois lets the unchanging world, outside, stare in
With her mind on the edge of an abyss, I give her a push:
'If I was you...'
She looks back, daring me to assume, I know what is best for her
Thankfully, knowing the decision is hers, I avoid the mistake of advocacy by giving her a peek at the prize:
'I would put all these mementos in a box, so one day your kids could see what you gave up...'
Her mouth falls open as I reach for her heart:
'Just to be with Clark'
Her chin waivers as her expression tries to contain the emotion of hearing someone knows what she is struggling with
With her stunned, I step-in to put arms around her:
'But it's your choice'
Pull her close and squeeze the remaining tension out of her with a hug as I say it:
'Just be honest with yourself'
She pushes me away to arm's length
We lock eyes
'But don't ever, try to tell me, ever again, that there is anything more important in this world than love.'
She looks away to hide the tear forming
She looks back with wet eyes
I smile.
'So whatever path you take...'
My smile allows her to see that I am about to intentionally ruin this moment.
'Don't expect me to pay you back for this stuff.'
She leans in to give me a friendly shove, and so misses the emotional curtain I have drawn down.
'Tyler you're the worst best-friend, ever!'
But at the height of her own joke
She sees it
For in the same moment in which she feels the warmth of finding someone who understands the complication of her love and only wishes to offer support; she also sees that I am still me, and so, maybe, just maybe, there is something else she should be paying attention to...
Lois investigates the sense of shock trying to wake her up:
'This is a game to you?'
I try to bluff:
'You mean its wrong to go around conning smart women in buying me clothes?'
As I point to a con that is the connection of how both her and Martha have bought me stuff, she hesitates
Then goes with her gut and ignores the distraction to make her point:
'You get into everyone else life'
I guess she is an investigative reporter!
'Without letting anyone into yours.'
In her rush to find my deception, she has only picked-up speed
And with her mind racing
I let her crash into the Man of Steel:
'Lois, you heard Clark at the dinner table'
She tries to shake her head no at the attempt:
'Don't...'
'He never got to be a boy'
It stops her thoughts of me cold
'He had to be in control of all that power, all of the time, Lois'
She nods acceptance of the weakness that is a fault-line running deep within Superman 
I reach out to touch her dangling hand with empathy as her mind tries to quantify the size of her problem:
'So even if you never have a child'
An alarm rings deep within her as I point out the price of falling in love with an alienated alien:
'You will always have a boy who needs his girl to play mother when he needs one.'
It is something she already knows
She tries to turn it on me:
'Is that what you are doing?'
I imply agreement by dodging the idea without saying, no to it:
'Does it look like I am trying to grow up?' 
Skipping over her point should be a red-flag, but the fact that I have identified her relationship's fatal-flaw knocks all thoughts on investigating me out of her mind
She sighs out defeat as she does the math on how to solve her problem and finds the only formula which has a chance is: One day at a time.
She swallows the emotion before she looks up
Frowns as she takes another look at my hopeless case
Tries one last time to play sister as she grabs my jacket to shake some sense into me:
'Tell me you going to be okay.'
I do as she asks:
'You are going to be okay.'
She tries to shake the joke from me
Looks worried as I keep smiling with an obliquely bleak admission:
'And feel free to use that store-credit to buy yourself some Smallville clothes.'
Her eyes flit back and forth
Then finding only that I accept my fate, she looks away as her tears begin to flow out
She is still looking out the window at an unchanging world as I walk out the door.