The next morning, there was a brand-new car sitting on the road in front of the house.
A big red bow was tied to the roof, and a letter from Lex Luthor was tucked beneath the windshield wiper.
I liked the letter.
It was well written, funny, and self-deprecating without being ridiculous.
There was no unnecessary grandstanding or seriousness, and most importantly, the gratitude felt genuine.
After reading it, I put the letter back in its envelope and ran my hand over the hood.
Beautiful.
But it was still a car.
I’d never been much of a fan of cars.
I’d never even had a driver’s license in my previous life.
I had one in this life, though, and I’d already seen the picture on it.
Not a bad-looking kid, actually.
But driving?
Trusting my life to a rattling piece of metal traveling sixty to eighty miles an hour, surrounded by millions of other rattling pieces of metal going somewhere in a hurry, many of them piloted by questionable drivers…
Yeah.
Not exactly appealing.
Maybe life would force me to start driving someday, but not today.
Today, I intended to enjoy the sunlight.
“Your dad took the keys,” Mom said from behind me, apparently misunderstanding what I was doing.
“The keys?”
“For the car.
Jonathan’s behind the barn.”
“Should I go talk to him?
Did he want to talk to me?”
“I think so.”
She paused for a moment.
“Okay.”
I smiled, walked over, hugged her, and kissed her cheek.
Then I let her go and headed behind the barn to find Dad.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t really paid much attention to the body yet.
I’m tall.
Broad-shouldered, too.
Definitely not a skinny kid.
How tall?
A little over two meters.
Not bad.
I certainly hadn’t been built like this in my previous life.
I was considerably more modestly proportioned back then.
Well, I’d get used to it.
It wasn’t exactly a bad thing, like a limp or poor eyesight.
People get used to good things pretty quickly.
***
Dad was indeed behind the barn.
He was feeding greenery into a machine that chopped it up into animal feed.
It was loud, monotonous, and not exactly pleasant work.
Jonathan saw me, switched off the machine, and removed his hearing protection.
“Clark, I know you wanted to keep the car, but we can’t…”
He jumped straight into what was clearly a difficult conversation he’d already rehearsed in his head.
“Why would you think that?”
He blinked.
“Uh…”
He clearly hadn’t expected that answer.
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
I shrugged, smiling.
“Why not?”
He looked completely lost now.
“Yesterday, right in front of me, a man lost control of his car because of circumstances completely outside his control and nearly died.”
I looked at him.
“Do you really think watching that is going to make me more eager to get behind the wheel myself?”
“Uh…”
“I love life too much to risk it without a good reason.”
I paused.
“Mom said you wanted to talk to me.
Did something happen?”
“You know, Clark…”
Jonathan frowned thoughtfully.
“I think yesterday’s accident affected you more than I realized.”
“For better or worse?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
He studied me.
“You seem…
older somehow.”
“Very possible.”
I nodded solemnly.
“I read somewhere that getting close to death can have that effect.”
Mentioning death darkened his expression.
Poor guy.
He was still afraid of it.
I wasn’t.
I’d stopped fearing death even before the transition.
That’s why I’d closed my eyes for the last time peacefully, at peace with myself.
But not being afraid of death didn’t mean I was eager to meet it.
I loved life far too much for that.
“You know…”
Jonathan started, then stopped.
“We’re going to have to talk.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Okay, Dad.”
I nodded.
“Need any help?”
“No, Clark.”
He thought for a moment.
“Take the day off.
There isn’t much to do, and I can handle the regular work myself.”
He looked thoughtful again.
“I’ll have some things to think about.”
“Got it.”
I nodded again.
“I’ll take a walk, then.
Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
He hesitated.
“And…
be careful.”
***
The Kent family’s land was pretty large.
That was good in some ways, but for two men, it was clearly too much.
Even with modern equipment, fifteen hectares was more than two people could reasonably handle, especially considering that, as far as I’d seen, we had exactly one tractor.
An old tractor.
Jonathan also categorically refused to hire farmhands, even though that was perfectly normal for other farmers.
Naturally, a large portion of the Kent property was slowly turning back into forest.
It wasn’t a disaster, but it was wasteful.
I wasn’t used to that kind of thing in my previous life.
Still, it wasn’t my place to interfere.
Dad was still strong and nowhere near old, so barging in with advice and unsolicited ideas would be rude.
Besides, we had enough money to get by even with the way things were being run.
We weren’t exactly thriving, but we weren’t starving either.
There was no reason to tear apart a system that worked.
Why force a grown man who had already built his life to leave his comfort zone and rebuild everything from scratch?
For now, I saw no reason for such a drastic move.
I walked slowly, making my way around our property.
Some memories and images surfaced in my mind.
Emotionally, none of this felt foreign or unfamiliar.
Still, seeing everything with my own eyes was interesting.
With my new, younger eyes.
The sun caught my attention again.
I liked feeling its rays against my skin.
It was a little strange because I hadn’t experienced anything like this in my previous life.
I’d enjoyed warmth, of course, but not like this.
Now I experienced actual physical pleasure from sunlight touching my skin.
It wasn’t sexual pleasure.
It wasn’t the pleasure of eating good food.
But it wasn’t any weaker than either of those things.
It was simply different.
Ah.
I loved life.
I loved its simple pleasures.
Why deny myself one of them?
I took off my shirt and undershirt, exposing my torso to the warm rays.
I almost purred.
Yeah.
Moments like this were worth living for.
I found a particularly nice hill, laid my shirt and undershirt on the ground, and stepped onto the grass.
I closed my eyes and began moving slowly through one of the many forms of Tai Chi.
I’d gotten into the art during the last thirty-something years of my previous life.
Apparently, it had once been a martial art, but I’d never used it for fighting.
Not Tai Chi.
Not anything else.
What kind of fighting was an old man supposed to do?
Who was going to fight an old man?
And who was an old man supposed to fight?
I simply enjoyed moving my body.
Even more than that, I enjoyed moving it beautifully and smoothly.
That was exactly what I was doing now: moving through the forms with slow, controlled motions while letting the warm sunlight fall over my body.
I felt good.