Dumpster Diving, Chapter Four: Howling at the Moon

My mother, Jocelyn, looked less than thrilled to see me walk through the front door of the townhouse I called home. I wiped the bottoms of my shoes on the rug and dropped my backpack down to the floor. Standing in front of me, Jocelyn crossed her arms. Her red hair was thrown in a messy bun and she was wearing old paint-stained jeans and a white t-shirt, which looked like it had fresh paint on it.

"Clarissa Fray," she scolded. "What on Earth are you doing home?"

I knew she had the right to be mad that I had just dropped everything and come home on the first day of college, when I was only supposed to use my car for emergencies – it wasn't exactly the most reliable hunk of metal.

No matter how mad she was at me, I was still happy to see her. I rushed forward and hugged her, feeling the wet paint of her shirt seeping into mine, however uncaring. She was tense, but relaxed when she felt the urgency of the hug.

I shut my eyes, willing myself to remain calm. When I opened my eyes again, Luke was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, watching us. Luke, despite knowing I wasn't supposed to be here, seemed happy to have me home. I released from the hug with my mom and jumped into Luke's arms next, thankful to be in his warm embrace.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he chuckled as he rubbed my back, something he always did. "Everything okay at The Institute?"

I felt another hand at my back – Jocelyn's. She must have understood that something was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have wasted her time with consoling gestures. My mother and I were close, but in the talk-about-your-problems kind of way, not the intimate hugging or touching kind of way, the way that Luke and I were. His hugs could literally dispel any negative feelings I was having.

Though not expecting me to be home, Jocelyn hurried to get out more supplies for sandwiches. I had caught her making a mid-day snack for her and Luke when I came in.

I joined them at the table, munching gratefully on the sandwich my mother made; it tasted much better than the food at the dining hall, but I decided not to complain about that. Jocelyn was pulling out all sorts of loans and doing a lot of extra work on her paintings in order to send me to college. As an only child, she wanted what was best for me.

And then there was Luke. He wasn't even my father yet, but he acted like he was. This summer he started putting more of his time into his business, a bookstore, in preparation for me entering college. It wasn't his responsibility to assist with college, but he had asserted to Jocelyn that he needed to pull his weight with some financial support. They would finally be married next year and he was already more like a father than my biological father, who had abandoned me. Due to the fact that Luke replaced my biological father, my mother and I never talked about who my father really was. There was no need to with Luke around.

"Guys?" I questioned tentatively, as we all finished eating our sandwiches. Jocelyn and Luke met my eyes, waiting. "Can I just say that I'm really thankful to have both of you in my life?"

Jocelyn gasped, smiling warmly in response. She most likely hadn't anticipated me to change all that quickly at college, especially not in a day. Even though she and Luke both knew I appreciated them, I had never said anything about it before.

Luke just smiled, nodding his head. "We are appreciative to have you in ours too," he said, speaking for himself and Jocelyn. "I'm just about to go in to the bookstore to do some restocking. You can join me if you'd like?"

I nodded. "Sure, Luke. And thanks, both of you, for not getting too mad that I up and left school to come home. I really needed this. My first day was really rough."

This time, Jocelyn responded, her voice heartfelt and calming like I was used to. She was much better with her use of language to make me feel at home. "Clarissa, sweetie. You are always welcome home when you need us. We are here to support you. I wouldn't want you to make it a habit, though." Even with her parent-like tone that condoned my behavior of leaving school on my first day, she was still able to maintain the warmth in her voice that told me she might have understood what I was going through.

It felt great to be understood. Both my mother and Luke had felt despair and disaster in their lives, which was exactly what I was experiencing.

It was different to talk to them about these things because they had familiarity in knowing how to surpass their obstacles – they did it every day being parents. I guessed that was why I wanted to talk to them, instead of Simon. I always felt like I was bringing Simon down when I brought him into my problems, contrary to the way Luke and Jocelyn helped me react to my problems, in an uplifting manner. They didn't get dragged down into it, like I let Simon.

That was also why I came, I reminded myself. If I talked it through with my parents, it would mean that I didn't have to put much stress on Simon. He seemed like he was fitting in at The Institute better than I was and I wanted to be happy for him. He didn't need to re-live high school, standing by me through the bullying when he could have found friends that saw less confrontation. I guess that was why it was great he had his video game friends, so that he could stay out of the drama that seemed to magnetize to me.

Luke and I rose from the table and cleaned our dishes in the sink, before waving goodbye to Jocelyn. Before we left for the bookstore, she put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me at the door. "Sweetie, I have a dress consultation tonight. I would love it if you came with me." She smiled tenderly, something that melted away any pain or misfortune I experienced earlier today.

Things couldn't have gotten much better, I decided.

"Of course, mom. Love you."

We hugged quickly, not holding it for long. With Jocelyn, the effects of a hug were much more muted than with Luke, but I could tell she was willing to make changes in her behaviors if I needed the warmth of her motherly touch. And I did, especially today.

"Love you," she repeated, as Luke took my hand and led me out the door and out to the car.

I smiled at him as we got in his car and he started to drive to the bookstore. It wasn't too often that I got alone time with him. Over the summer I would sometimes stop into his bookstore just to see him, since often I was at home painting with my mom or working at a part-time job to afford my car for college.

I felt a child-like excitement building within my body at the realization that I could spend the next few hours in Luke's bookstore. Granted, I was there to help him work, but I was almost positive he wouldn't mind if I opened a few books and scanned the pages. I could imagine myself and Luke finding funny passages and reading them out loud to each other, laughing and melting away any worries.

Eagerness burned hotter in my body as we neared the bookstore.

We arrived and he unlocked the gate at the front, opening the front door and holding it for me. I nodded thanks and stepped inside, the smell of old books hitting my senses. It should have been a disgusting smell, should have reeked, except I found it to be very tranquilizing. Old book smell was the best, when it meant that I could lose myself in a different world. Books were great for that, especially on a day like today when all I wanted to do was forget my own troubles.

Luke began humming as he used box-cutters to open boxes of books that had recently shipped to his store. I wandered for a while, familiarizing myself with the selections, before I started unpacking books and placing them in their proper category. Meanwhile, I found myself humming along with the song Luke was singing – it was a Michael Bublé song.

Suddenly, Luke began singing, his low voice rough but easy, caressing the notes, the tune captivating. I joined Luke singing, knowing I wasn't the best, but allowing myself to feel consumed by the lyrics.

"'Cause you are not alone

I'm always there with you

And we'll get lost together

'Til the light comes pouring through

'Cause when you feel like you're done

And the darkness has won

Babe, you're not lost

When your world's crashing down

And you can't bear the thought

I said, babe, you're not lost"

The tune of the song put my body at ease, as well as the way it felt to just sing away my troubles with Luke. I was finally safe and secure, in a place that felt familiar to me, with someone here to protect me from monsters or demons that might jump out of nowhere.

With Simon on campus, there was always the risk that Jace or his minions would show up and put me down, making me think I wasn't deserving of a true college experience. But they couldn't do that here.

I wished Simon could be here with me, experiencing the safety of Luke's bookstore.

Hours went by like that, though it only felt like minutes. Once we had finally finished unpacking the books and working around the shop, there was nothing left to do.

Our sing-along had been all over the place throughout the past few hours, including catchy tunes from Blake Shelton all the way to more upbeat songs from Simple Plan. We ended with Taylor Swift, an artist Luke never cared for but was still aware of. I wasn't particularly a fan either, but Simon of all people was. Sometimes I thought it was just because he found her attractive so I usually teased him about it. Her songs were really catchy though.

I was giggling and smiling by the time we left, my emotions straightening out to be what they usually were. Outside of high school and its torments, I was habitually a genuinely happy person, especially when I was with my family or Simon. These people reminded me that I was only human and I could make errors and they would still love me for my flaws, rather than in spite of them.

For the second time today, I felt genuine bliss. I counted my playful banter with Simon over lunch to be the first time I felt happiness today, but even then I was constantly being punctured by the ever-consuming presence of Jace.

Now, I had nearly forgotten about him, except to remind myself that I was happy without him – though I supposed was essentially contradicting. If I had to remind myself that I was happy because I was without Jace's presence, wasn't I still finding happiness due to Jace? Or, rather, lack of Jace? It still meant I was thinking about him, though.

This revelation was unsettling.

Luke seemed to notice my body stiffen as we were driving through the streets of Alicante after departing from the bookstore. Traffic was relatively jammed as we were on our way toward Jocelyn's fitting, where he would drop me. The groom couldn't see the dress, of course.

He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it. I had never noticed how much Luke or Simon had taken my hand to reassure me before, but now I seemed to be realizing it was something they did a lot.

I was weak.

"Luke," I said, suddenly adamant in the idea that I needed to express this concern. "Why is it that you are so open and free with yourself, and even though I grew up around you, I'm not?"

He looked at me, startled. We were at a red light. "Clary, what gave you the notion that you aren't any of those things?"

I frowned, recalling all the events from today and yesterday involving a certain person I was almost positive I could hate with a passion. I thought passion was supposed to be a positive emotion, not something negative.

"I only am when I'm around you or mom or Simon."

He shook his head. "You're only limiting yourself to believing it's just us. You have the ability to open up to other people if you just let yourself."

He smiled lovingly, making the tingling sensation in my stomach that was starting to form begin to vanish almost as instantly as I noticed it was there.

"It's really hard to fit in at The Institute," I admitted with reluctance.

I knew no parent or soon-to-be parent wanted to hear this from their child, but Luke's relationship with me was much more open and friendly, compared to my mom's relationship with me. She acted more like a parent that was interested in my problems, but Luke was more of a friend figure who could give me advice and understand the situation, almost as much as Simon could.

Luke was special; he was both a friend and a parent at the same time –like a combined version of Jocelyn's parental love and Simon's friendly understanding.

I felt less guilty now coming to Luke and avoiding Simon. I needed family to remind me that I grew up and was raised by strong people who are providing me with opportunities. No Jace Wayland should ruin that for me.

"What is it that's giving you trouble?" he asked, his parental instincts kicking in. He had known me almost my whole life and had become engaged with my mom when I was old enough to understand that I could love Luke as more than just mommy's friend, but as a father figure, which I lacked since my real father left me. I was indebted to Luke.

"A boy," I muttered.

He seemed to understand. "Is it that boy that bullied you in high school?"

I nodded, unable to speak. He, like Simon, had me pegged. It seemed like a bad sign that so many people could guess that about me without actually knowing what happened. Either that or it was a good sign that I surrounded myself with such positive influences in my life; people who cared about me enough to know what I was thinking or feeling.

"Clary," he said, his voice low and careful. He was about to launch into one of his speeches. "I'm sure Simon has already told you a lot of this, but you can't just let that boy walk over you for the rest of your life. You are a brave and strong individual. You just don't give yourself enough credit."

Someone honked behind us and Luke's eyes flickered back to the road, as he drove under the green light.

When we continued down the road to a less trafficked area, he turned to me again. "Like you said, you grew up around me and Jocelyn and saw our struggles and difficulties. We have tried very hard to create a great example for you. And Clary, all you have to do is dig within to find the confidence to stand up for yourself. It's in there – I put it there myself."

I smiled up at him thankfully. His words sunk in, but I knew their effect would be delayed until I could fully process and consider implementing them.

Maybe he was right. Even so, it wasn't going to be a simple task to just up and change the part of myself that preferred to remain withdrawn to pull less attention to myself.

The rest of the car ride was silent, however comfortably so. We finally arrived at the bridal studio after a while and I paused to look at Luke, whose expression was filled with concern.

"I'll get through this, thanks to you," I assured him, however I wasn't sure how true my words were. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, before exiting the car.

He waved goodbye, knowing that after spending some time with my mother, I would be back to school and it would likely be weeks before I'd see him next.

I tried to create a mental drawing in my head of Luke as he was driving off. His typical disheveled hair and fatherly concerned expression; his gentle paper-cut hands from working at the bookstore that felt rough when I held them; he had such a laid-back attitude and yet he always seemed to know the right words to say to make me feel at ease, at least for the time being. I would miss his hugs the most.

After watching him drive off into the distance, I turned to the bridal studio and walked in, searching the room for my mother, but coming up short. A tall sales associate with a form-fitting black dress and red pumps greeted me, likely assuming I was a bride-to-be.

"Welcome! Are you Jocelyn, our late appointment?" she asked. Her voice was too perky and prim, an annoyance to my ears.

I shook my head. "That's my mother. She'll be here soon-"

As I was finishing speaking, Jocelyn slammed through the front door, her hair falling out of the bun it was pushed into earlier and her shirt falling off one side of her shoulder, her arms clutching a bag that was threatening to spill its contents. She met my eyes, everything about her tousled.

She reminded me a lot of myself when I let myself feel too distressed about something – I would channel the distress into drawing or writing, in order to tame myself, but in all actuality I was a mess as much as she was. We were both too impulsive and focused on what we were passionate about to sometimes remember to keep up with appearances. I imagined she was too busy painting something that had recently inspired her, causing her to forget the time – and her appointment.

"Clary, dear," she said, pulling me into a hug, again something I wasn't used to. I didn't mind though. "Sorry I'm late." She pulled away and greeted the woman who had mistaken me for my mother. "I was painting something new and I lost track of time! I'm ready now," she said.

The woman started to take Jocelyn towards the back, but Jocelyn stopped, suddenly remembering something.

"Oh!" she said. I walked up to her curiously. "You forgot your sketch pad when you left for college. I brought your bag with all your supplies." She pushed the bag she was holding into my hands, its familiar shape reassuring.

I nodded gratefully. She understood as much as I did that painting for her and drawing to me were both artistic forms of expression that helped us get a hold of ourselves. How I had forgotten the most important part of myself back at home, I wasn't sure. And yet, it seemed to explain some of the reason I felt so lost back at The Institute.

Jocelyn continued toward the back of the store, following the sales associate with the high-pitched shriek of a voice. I waited up front, seating myself at the waiting area where the brides showed their families the options.

Digging into the neutral-colored shoulder bag, I grasped at my drawing notebook and pulled it out, remembering the way it felt to hold it in my hands. Instinctively, I opened to a blank page toward the middle and began to draw random shapes with no order or direction, until it transformed and transfixed itself into something organized.

The drawing turned out to be Lake Lyn, which overlooked Alicante on one side, and there were two wolves in the picture howling at a full moon. Once I realized what it was, I understood why I had drawn it:

Luke had once taken me to the beaches of Lake Lyn, despite its toxic waters and the fact that we couldn't swim in it. We sat on the edge of the water, watching it rippling under a full-lit moon. Luke had howled, pretending to be a wolf, and I joined in, without a care in the world.

This memory was when he asked me if he could marry my mother; I was just a child comprehending the idea that I would have a father that wasn't biological. I realized that night I could love him just the same.

The reason I drew this was the nagging feeling I felt in my subconscious, ever since I walked into my room to find Isabelle, Jace and Alec. The beauty of Lake Lyn represented the part of me who was open and care-free, a version of myself that would never let herself or anyone she loved get pushed around.

I stared at the wolves in the picture, my finger tracing them.

The image felt like an explanation of my life. Lake Lyn was toxic due to dumping which caused chemicals to rise to dangerous levels. While the Lake was beautiful on the outside, to the touch it was hazardous. The toxicity of the lake represented the toxic part of my life that felt like a ripple-effect of events I couldn't control. And there I was, howling at the moon with a companion that I grew to love and care for.

The toxicity of Lake Lyn was Jace, I was almost sure of it. I could never control Jace or what he did to me; I could only howl at the moon – or just get past the fact that despite the beauty of the lake, it was a toxic being. All I needed to do was get past its mesmerizing effect to recognize that it was destructive and I shouldn't touch the waters.

As fascinating as Jace was on the outside, his being was toxic and destructive. I needed to howl at the moon.

I wondered for a moment what that meant until I realized howling at the moon could mean chewing Jace out for all the things he had done. Maybe howling stood in for shouting and giving him a piece of my mind. Whatever it meant, I understood that it represented standing up for myself, as both Simon and Luke had told me I needed to do.

Could it really be that easy?