I don't like her.

 

Martha told me to behave myself, and I will.

 

But I just don't like her.

 

And of course, Martha made a special dinner. Not to mention pie. She actually made pie for this girl.

 

"The food looks delicious, Mrs. Kent." Willow seems to be trying hard to be pleasant, trying too hard if you ask me.

 

"Thank you Willow. You can call me Martha."

 

"I'm not really used to homemade meals. This is really nice."

 

"I take it your mother isn't one for cooking." Martha says as she sets a pitcher of water on the table. I can't believe she's making small talk like this.

 

Willow looks down at the table, and if I didn't know better, I might actually be concerned for her.

 

"My parents weren't around much when I was growing up."

 

Oh no, she's appealing to Martha's love of strays.

 

I'm going to be out numbered in my dislike of this girl. I can already tell that Martha is going to take her under her wing. And Clark...Clark tends to see the world in black and white. People are either evil, or they do no wrong. And he's always been a sucker for a pretty face. It probably

stems from his interest in Lana, but Clark often thinks that pretty equals good.

 

"Have you told you parents about your...situation...yet?"

 

Of course Martha would put it that politely. I would have been more likely to say 'Have you told your parents that you got my son drunk and corrupted him?'

 

"Um...no," Willow admits. "I haven't been able to yet. I'm actually not entirely sure where they are right now. I tried to contact them at their new house, but they must be traveling right now, and the cell number I have is outdated."

 

Well, no wonder she's a drunk. It doesn't sound like she had a very stable family life. Which, of course, is just going to further endear her to my wife.

 

Watching Martha, I can tell she's searching for something to say, but Willow speaks instead.

 

"I've, ah, I've never been on a farm before." Willow is obviously trying to change the subject.

 

"Well, Clark and Jonathan will have to show you around tomorrow," Martha says brightly.

 

Great. That sounds like fun. Clark can show her around if he wants to, but I have no desire to play delighted host to this girl.

 

"I have a lot of work tomorrow, Martha. I'm not sure if I'll have time to give a guided tour."

 

Martha shoots me a harsh look, "Oh, I'm sure you can make time. There are more important things then chores after all."

 

Yeah, like talking my son out of this crazy plan of his.

 

"Willow and I were actually talking about starting to look for an apartment tomorrow," Clark says.

 

"There's plenty of time for that later. You can stay here as long as you like."

 

It takes everything I have not to state my disagreement with that.

 

"There's always the apartment above the Talon," Martha suggests. " I'm sure Lana would let you stay there."

 

Yes, of course. Because Clark should stay in the apartment above the shop owned by the girl he was in love with. With his new wife. I know Martha's heart is in the right place, but I can't imagine what she was thinking with that suggestion.

 

"I don't think that's a great idea, Mom." Clark looks downcast.

 

There is silence for a long moment.

 

"So, Willow. Are you still in school?" Martha is trying to steer the conversation back to more comfortable topics.

 

"I'm actually just a couple credits short of my degree. I thought I'd pick up a class or two at Metropolis University. I was at UC Sunnydale. But after Tara died I...I took sometime off. And since the town collapsed, I haven't found a new school."

 

"Was Tara your sister?" My wife's voice is filled with concern.

 

Willow doesn't answer right away, and I see her glance at Clark. He grimaces a little and shrugs his shoulders. I know I'm not going to like what comes next.

 

"Actually, Tara was my girlfriend."

 

I nearly spit out my coffee, "She was your *what*?"

 

 

"My girlfriend." Willow's voice is stronger now, and I can hear the challenge in her voice. I just know that she's waiting for me to be a homophobic hick, and it pisses me off.

 

She's acting like I don't have a right to be surprised that the girl who is married to my son used to date girls. I'm about to tell her exactly that, when Martha shoots me a look. I bite back my comment just in time. Martha and I are going to have enough to talk about later, I don't need her

all worked up about anything that I say.

 

"Well," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "Is there anything else that we should know about our new daughter-in-law?"

 

Another look passes between Willow and Clark. I notice Clark shake his head slightly.

 

"Don't grill her, Dad. You'll have plenty of time to get to know her."

 

Great. Because that's just what I want. Because what gives a father more pleasure than getting to know the drunk irritating girl that married his teenage son in Vegas?

 

"Willow, I made-up the guest room for you." Martha fidgets uncomfortably with her silverware. "I wasn't quite sure what to do about the rooming situation, but I thought that separate rooms...."

 

"Separate rooms will be okay," Willow says.

 

"You're damn right they will be!"

 

"Jonathan!"

 

"Dad!"

 

Martha and Clark admonish me simultaneously. But I don’t care. Those two will not be sharing a bedroom while there are under my roof. I'm not even comfortable with the thought of them sharing when they get their own apartment. But Clark's 18, and there isn't anything I can do about that. I can, however, control what happens in my house. And I'm not doing anything

to encourage this marriage.

 

Martha was actually glad to hear that Willow and Clark are going to try to work it out. But as far as I'm concerned, the sooner this is all over, the better.

 

"I'm sorry, Willow."

 

"Don't apologize for me, Martha. I'm sitting through this dinner, just like you wanted, but I'm not going to pretend to be happy about it. I'm not going to make small talk, like this is just a friend that Clark has brought by for dinner. It's his *wife*. He's drunken mistake of a wife."

 

I look at Clark. "Son, you're 18. You should be more responsible than this. You promised you'd be careful when you told us that Lex was taking you to Vegas. And you come back married. I mean, I should have expected something bad to happen, with Lex involved, but..."

 

"Lex isn't to blame for this," Clark says, cutting me off. "It's my own fault. I got drunk all on my own. I sure didn't want to end up married at 18. And I really didn't want it to be to someone who I don’t even really like. But I'm to blame for it. Not Lex. Why do you always have to blame him for..."

 

Clark stops talking as Willow bolts for the table, tears filling her eyes. She leaves the kitchen and I hear the living room door slam.

 

Damnit. I just know that Martha is going to blame this on me.

 

 

Next part: Giles!