Idea that obsessed me. Not owning the characters. Quote from Brené Brown.
Chapter 1: A challenge, a meeting and a deal
Jace Herondale was a reader.
Or that was what he answered when people, in a tentative way to be sympathetic, asked him what he does of his free time.
'' I read.'' he would say, no more, no less. Often enough, it would lead people to just shrug and leave him alone, not knowing what else to do.
They never questioned him on his reading.
There was more to that than just the leisure activity of grabbing a book and absorb every words with one's eyes. For him, it was more than a way to learn about new ideas. More than a way to evade the days' long seconds ticking by, the loneliness of his mind or his duty.
To read was an act of liberty.
Not only was he freeing his mind from the dull cage of the real world, he was freeing the words out of the books. Letters that were stuck within pages, only waiting to be read, could finally be released under the call of his voice as he read them alive. Words filled with emotions, words of imaginary and fiction, words meant to shock, words meant to inform, Jace loved them all.
But that was not what people saw when they could catch the sight of him sitting on some random bench, his lips silently wording and murmuring the text he was reading. They could only see a teenager who found people too boring and much rather spend the most of his time in the company of fictional characters. Most only knew of a sarcastic teenager that shut down with a superior look and a witty retort all those who dared disturb him of his activity.
Fortunately enough, there was a group of people who could see beyond the cover of Jace, and the teen saw them every week-end.
Saturday morning saw him packing a few random books from his shelves to his black bag, just like every week. And like every time, after having selected a few, his golden eyes went to the small box on one shelf. The same question as usual crossed his mind: should he bring it?
In that box, there were many loose sheets; handwritten pages. All from the same author, none following one another, as if they were remains of an old book – or many books - and they had been torn apart. Those pages in this box were only the rogue ones that had managed to escape, brought by the wind, and that Jace had collected. He didn't know where they came from, but when he had read them, there had been something so personal in those bits of writing that he wondered if one day he should free the words of the pages.
Every Saturday, Jace asked himself if he should bring the box, but always left it behind.
Not this Saturday.
The box safely placed in his bag, squeezed in between two books, he headed toward the Black Thorns Retirement Home, which was a couple of blocks away from his flat. 10 minutes 44 seconds, that was the time it took him, not that he had checked. The place was cozy, well kept and always smelled like lavender. The elderly here were quite polite, and always happy to see him. Especially since every Saturday, Jace came here to read.
In some kind of large lounge with old beaten but robust leather couches, equally old beaten, but robust people were sitting there, waiting. The Herondale boy, after he'd been greeted by the senior citizens, took his usual place in front of them. He sat on the chair placed there for him, opened his bag and tried to decided with what should he begin the reading out-loud session, when his eyes met the blue-eyed ones of an old man.
'Ah, Mr. Lightwood is here.' thought Jace with the same feeling one had facing a particularly hard challenge.
It was always the same, reading for the seniors pleasure or because they couldn't anymore, what with those with cataract-ridden eyes. What had started as community services – for some stupid fault at that – had became something enjoyable. Jace held respects for those people and they held true respect for him too. It was a relaxing and playful activity for both parties.
Until recently, or more exactly two months ago, when what would become Jace's challenge had arise.
There had been a man that started to come here, but that never stayed the whole time. At first, Jace thought it was because it wasn't the man's thing. It was okay, it was something that happened. But every time, the man came back and left after the second chapter,. Meaning that it had to be his thing, if he took the time to come. So maybe he was busy at the moments the teenager reached that day's story second chapter. Yet, one time, in between the second and third chapter, Jace went out to get himself some water and he saw him, the man that had left, sitting in another room, looking with a bored expression at the public tv!
He was into the reading session, not busy and clearly not enjoying the other activities, so his leaving could only mean one thing...
The man, Jace had managed to learn, was Mr. Lightwood. It was then that, for his pride and honour, the teenager had made it his challenge to manage to one day grab the man's attention.
Seeing him now, Jace had a boost of determination quickly followed by the low that the fear to fail again induced. On instinct, Jace grabbed the box he had brought. It was a shot in the dark, a sword thrust in the water, to hope that the box content could manage to grab his challenge's focus.
'' Okay, nice to have many of you here with me.'' started Jace, gaining most of the attention. '' Today, it is going to be a bit special. The story I'll begin with is short and not like most books, but I really wanted to try that. If it doesn't work, I have many more conventional books to choose from that we can read, alright?''
The blond received many excited nod, some indifferent shrugs and a curious glance from Mr. Lightwood. As usual, he was standing near the door, leaning on his can.
Nodding to himself, Jace opened the box and took the first pages.
September 22nd, 1946.
I had to admit that when we moved to America, I was really septic that it was truly for the best. After the War, everyone was wary of strangers, sometimes even of their own. But when my parent got the okay to immigrate, they seized the chance, never mind that Indonesia was getting better with the Commonwealth. A golden opportunity for us they said.
An opportunity that required us to give up everything, our friends, my father's steady jobs, our house and even part of our culture. I'll miss Ragnor and Catarina. They said they would write, but it is not the same as having them here with me. I'll miss my room, it's ridiculous, but I got attached to that place. It was like a safe-heaven. I know I'll look ridiculous in school, learning to speak English better and not knowing anyone. And mostly I know it will be hard for my father to find job as decent as what he had back home.
But I must say, as I am writing those words and can't help but glance at my curtain-less window (which has a view on our left neighbour), that I am happy to be here. No that's not true. It's not being here that I am happy, but having met him.
This morning, I was sitting on the porch (trying to catch up with my English actually). It was warm outside, and my mother was installing in the kitchen. The kitchen was her realm and one had to get out of her way if they didn't want to anger her. But that was her role as the mother, my role as the son was to study. But never mind my mother in the kitchen, the point was that I was outside when my neighbour from the left side got out.
'Agak banyak' I would have said in my country,
He has dark hair, piercing blue eyes, fair Caucasian skin. For a sixteen years old New Yorker, he was handsome all right. And angry too, if I could read the expression on his sharp features. Passing a hand trough his dark hair, he noticed me, but looked down.
Oh no, there is no way I was passing the chance to make my first friend here.
'' Ello!'' I exclaimed, and I still cringe at the memory of my own accent and how I forgot the 'H'.
'' Hi.'' he shyly said, looking back at me.
I got up, smiled at him and approached so I could shake his hand. Such was the proper etiquette.
'' My name is Magnus.'' I managed to say without too much problem.
He shakes back my hand. '' Alec.''
'' I will be your new neighbour.'' I informed him, pulling at his hand to show him our house. Actually, it was more to get him away from his, but he didn't need to know that.
'' Yes you are.'' he smiled at me, and I remember that I was glad that I could make him forget his anger. That is why I continued I suppose.
'' I am trying to learn English because I start class next week. I will be going to St.-Raziel, are you there too?''
'' Yeah, I go there too.'' he said, losing his smile, nibbling his lower lip. '' Actually I have to go, I'll be late.''
It is only then that I noticed how well dressed he was, with his white button up shirt and black pants, a dark tie and a fancy bag hanging on one shoulder.
(It reminds me that tomorrow I have to tell mother that I need to check the school's uniform.)
I dropped his hand (that I still had in mine) to let him go and because I was just now remembering that Americans are sometimes fidgeting with contacts. '' Yes, sorry, I wouldn't want you to be late. I have a lot to learn anyways.''
'' No, no, it,s not your fault.'' he quickly reassured me. He grabbed his own hand (the own I had left) as if he was missing the contact. Or maybe that was what I hoped? I can't question that for now.
'' If you want, I can help you with your English... If you want.'' he said, unaware of his redundancy.
His shy kindness was warming and I was glad he offered. That was why I said-
Jace stopped his reading there, as he had reached the end of the page. The rest of that day's story was probably in the book that that page came from. He supposed Magnus had accepted Alec's offer. That was where it had seemed to go and it would fit with the other pieces he had in the box.
'' What did the stranger – Magnus was it? - said?'' asked someone in the front, breaking the silence that had settled.
'' I don't know, that is where this page stops.'' declared Jace.
'' Well, he seemed to be happy to make a new friend, he probably said yes.'' said an old lady in the back.
'' Do you have other slices of life like that?'' asked another one.
Jace was glad they seemed to enjoy. The ultimate test though, was when he raised his eyes to look at Mr. Lightwood.
Never would he have suspected what he saw.
The man seemed shock, his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. For the first time since Jace had seen him, he seemed to need to sit down, his legs giving up under his weight. Passing a hand through his white hair, the old man shook his head vehemently. He said something, but it was too low for Jace to understand through the ambient noise of people excitingly chatting. A tear fell from Mr. Lightwood's eyes and he fled the room.
That was not what Jace had wanted nor thought this small segment of Magnus story would have caused. A wave of guilt hit him, but confusion calmed it down. The old man was a piece of mystery and the teen just wanted to know more about him. Like a book in a foreign language, intriguing, promising, but also intricate as one felt frustrated in front of words unknown by them.
'' Well, I have also brought this book that I wanted to share.'' decided to answer Jace, as he made the mental note to go check on Mr. Lightwood later.
He got out the first book he found, and started to read it out loud.
Later that day, Jace went to the receptionist. Today, it was that pretty red headed girl with bright green eyes. Her tag name said 'Clary'.
'' Hi, Jace.'' she greeted.
'' Hey.'' he answered. She was a nice girl, and one of the few human beings he respected that weren't a senior. '' Can you tell me which room is Mr. Lightwood's?''
'' Sure, but I must warn you, he seemed... troubled earlier when he passed by.'' she said, looking up in her computer. When she got it, she turned her green worried gaze at him. '' He doesn't have a lot of visit, and I think maybe it gets at him. You'll be kind, right?''
Kindness like that always amazed Jace. He wasn't kind. He wasn't selfless. He would be, he would have probably left Mr. Lightwood alone.
But he couldn't.
So he stiffly nodded at her and headed toward the east aisle, where Clary had indicated him that room 19 was.
At the first knock, the blue-eyed old man opened.
'' I was waiting for you.'' he said as an introduction and invited Jace in.
He stayed silent then, so the teen took the time to look around. He loved the room. The walls were covered of book shelves. Actually, there was only a bed and a sofa, the rest of the furniture being the bookshelves. The strong aroma of paper and ink was filling the room. With the carpet covering the floor, the place screamed book-lover paradise. For a moment, Jace wondered who in their right mind would ever leave that place, especially if that person living their was retired.
Mr. Lightwood sat on the bed, slowly as his knees seemed stiff, leaving Jace the sofa. Only then did the old man broke the silence. '' Are you free on Sunday?''
That was unexpected. Jace didn't like, but also utterly enjoyed, that intricate way of thinking of that old man. With him, he felt like he was reading an unpredictable thriller. For weeks, the blond had tried to catch the man's attention, and when he managed, it caused him to cry. And now he was asking if the teen was free on Sunday.
Curious, Jace nodded.
The man nodded, passing a hand trough his paled by time hair. '' Would you mind doing private session of reading? Read to me and me alone those pages in your box?'' he asked, not looking at Jace, as if he was afraid of finding refusal.
'' You never stayed at any of my readings, but now you want a personal one?'' frowned Jace.
Truthfully, he wouldn't mind as he had nothing better to do on Sunday. But curiosity was getting the better of him and he just wanted to know more about this man.
M. Lightwood sighed before turning his vivid blue eyes at him. '' What you read every Saturday never really touches me enough to stay. I may have difficulties now and then, but I can read those stories just fine. It is a beautiful thing you are doing for us, but I need something exhilarating. And what you have brought in today... It awoke emotions that I had locked away.''
Jace nodded understanding. Some books or story did that to people. Some books hit the mark so well, almost touching the reader's soul, they changed something inside. The story didn't even need to be popular, it only needed the right reader. Didn't people say 'Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change'?
The Herondale boy had waited for the right moment to release Magnus' words from the fickle sheets. Maybe now he had found the right listener for them in Mr. Lightwood?
'' I will do it.'' Jace said, opening the box and taking out the second page. '' i will come and read them for you every Sunday.''
December 15th, 1946
-it was with such devastation.
I couldn't stand and do nothing.
I went away from the crowd and approached the player's bench were he sat. I took the small place there was between him and the end of the bench. I am thin, so I thought I could fit. And I did fit, but lets say I was just incredibly close to Alexander, our legs touching.
'' You can't be here.'' he said, not looking away from the game where his teammates were losing.
'' I can if the officials don't catch me, will you tell them?'' I told him, going for my charming teasing smile.
Alexander only glanced at me, shaking his head, before he glared at his joined hand in front of him.
I didn't like seeing him like that.
'' Look at me.'' I ordered him.
He did.
'' That jerk on the ice isn't half good as you.'' I informed him. I felt like he was underestimating himself.
'' I know Magnus.'' he sighed, not reassured at all.
But it surprised me still. '' You know? Than why so sad?''
'' He is cheating, or half cheating, using the natural ice against us to... body check us.'' he said, passing a hand on his shoulder were he fell earlier.
Ever since Alexander tutored me in English, I had gotten better and better. I was not only able to have a much less pronounced accent, but also able to understand people when they spoke. Because two Americans speaking to each other was tremendously different from an American speaking to me alone. But right now, even though all the progress, I had no idea what 'body check' meant.
I think it was quite apparent that I was confused, because Alexander said: '' It's what pushing down the other is called.''
Well, one never cease to learn.
''Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, such a brutal thing is oki.'' I said, trying to be poetic.
It didn't work.
'' What?'' he asked frowning.
'' That.'' I said, pointing to the ice where they were playing.
Understanding, he nodded and proceed to correct me: '' Hockey.''
Usually, I am very grateful for when he does that, but at that moment, my pronunciation of how that sport is called was the less of my concern. '' The point is, if he uses his eyes to get back at you, do the same to him.''
'' What do you mean?'' whispered conspiratorially Alexander, turning his attention to the ice.
I bent forward and pointed at the jerk who had pushed down my friend. '' Look there, at his left reflexes.''
'' They are slower.'' he realized after a few seconds.
'' I told you he is not half as good as you.'' I smiled. I could see his hurt pride dissipating and his fighting spirit return.
'' You really think that?'' he said, turning back to me, a slight flush on the cheeks, though maybe it was due to the cold.
We were so close already, him turning had just seemed to emphasis that.
'' Of course, do you think I come look at oki games for the pleasure of it? I could be home, warm and drinking hot cocoa right now.'' I told him, trying my best to insinuate that it was for him that I came.
And it was true, I really did struggle to get out and come here.
'' But you came.'' he whispered, his voice a mixture of fear and joy. Like Alexander was both happy and afraid of our closeness. We are close, I want to believe that there is a closeness to be afraid or happy about. I never know with him though. I used to be a proud people reader, great at comprehending their feelings, but with him, I was always wondering.
Though if there is one thing I had noticed, it was that when in public like that, he never felt good with our chemistry. So I took the safe way, not wanting him to disappear on me again (Note to self: read the event of the art class room).
'' Yes, well I am no liar. I never lied about my name.'' I teased, but winked.
'' Hey, I never lied about my name!'' he protested offended, but smiling still.
'' You told me you were called Alec.'' I reminded him
'' It's my nickname, that's how my friends call me.'' Alexander said, not for the first time.
'' But it isn't your name.'' I said and he rolled his eyes with amusement.
Right then, one of his teammate came to the bench to switch place. He got up, grabbing his stick. I heard him whisper: '' Here I go now.''
And he went.
Getting up, I returned to my place so I could see better what he would do. Swift on his skate, he had an angelic grace on the ice. It was hard to believe that the same boy could be such a clumsy mess on the steady ground. Quickly he got the hockey puck and guided it toward the nets.
At the defence was the boy that had tripped him earlier. But it didn't happen again. Alexander learned. He went to the guy's left side, threw the puck before him and accelerate to pass by the other.
And then, just as I was thinking that he was going to fast to really aimed, he shot and scored!
I am so proud of that boy.
After the game, and after having shook hand with the other team, he came to me all smile. What he did next surprised me, as he grabbed me into a hug. It was warm his embrace and I was feeling my heart beat increase. Even now, writing about it I feel all warm inside and it's like my inside were clenching in excited expectation.
How could he do that to me?
Why do I like that?
The embrace didn't last long though, as he quickly took a step back and glanced around. It wasn't a 'normal' behaviour, to hug other men like that, and he was surely anxious someone saw us.
Reassured, Alexander then smiled to me. '' Thanks, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.''
That smile, it was impossible to avoid, made me smile too.
When Jace placed back the sheet, he felt like he had to go. Mr. Lightwood had other tears in his eyes and he looked like he was fighting them.
'' I'll come back tomorrow. Same time as today, alright?'' said Jace, not comfortable seeing an old man in such state.
The man grabbed his wrist before he could leave. '' Thank you.'' he said, managing an honest smile.
On his way back, Jace could almost understand how Magnus had felt. He too hadn't been able to not smile back at those kind of honestly grateful smiles, even though he also felt like he didn't deserve it.
Still, Jace looked forward tomorrow, to the start of a new releasing words session and maybe a chance to befriend the man.
