CHAPTER 12
"'Atulations, 'ary!" little Lily, now almost three, ran towards Clary and waved a huge bouquet of flowers just almost as big as her. Clary, despite the excitement, can't help but frown in amazement at how her little sister was able to carry the whole bunch. But then again, Lily wasn't just a normal toddler…
"Lily!" Clary scooped her up, the bouquet sandwiched between them. Clary glanced sideways again and saw Jocelyn and Luke walking towards their direction with an awfully too bright smiles on their faces. She wanted to groan as she thought that with all her college friends around and some professors, she didn't need some parental loving. But they are just so happy that Clary couldn't care any less on what the people around her might say. This was, after all, her exhibit.
"Oh, Clary!" exclaimed Jocelyn, putting her hand over heart as if she can't handle her elation.
"We are so proud of you!" Luke added and then finally embraced Clary and Lily. He motioned Jocelyn to move-in then he enveloped her as well. There, in the middle of Silhouette Gallery NY, the Fray-Garroway family stood in one big hug, looking all pleased. The guests around them chuckling lightly and taking some pictures—some even applauding at the touching sight.
Just 20 years old and still growing out to be a fine artist, Clary Fray stood, finally released from the breaking hug, alone in the middle of the room, taking it all in. She looked around her, eyes watching and waiting for her to say something. In the corner of her eye, she saw her family urging her to go on—Lily smiling toothily at her with the bouquet still in her little hands.
"Hello," Clary started. Everyone turned their heads towards her. "I really don't know what to say except… thank you. Thank you very much for coming here tonight. You all don't know how much this means to me. To the Silhouette team… for entrusting me your gallery for two whole months, featuring all my artworks from my kindergarten days up until now, to my university years… to my friends—"
"They can't come, Clary. I'm sorry. Jace tried to reason with The Clave, but…"
Clary sighed. "I know, Simon. Jace hadn't even finished half of his training."
"He's proud of you, you know that."
"I know. But still, I wish… with Izz and Alec, too."
"Magnus. Don't forget the Sonic, Fray." Simon chuckled as he sat beside her on the floor where she's already sketching what seemed to look like, for Simon, a cross-breed of a pig and a cow.
"Of course, Magnus."Clary whispered.
"I hope you wouldn't include that in the exhibit…" Simon teased, trying to lighten up the mood.
"No. Actually, it's my next birthday present for you, Lewis." Clary kidded back.
But as Simon was trying to come up with a rebut, Clary suddenly stopped sketching and sighed. Simon looked at her, her shoulders hunched and tired from the sleepless nights working on the exhibit… hunched and tired from not seeing Jace for two and a half years—just him, Simon, serving like some sort of a messenger.
"It'll be over soon," He said as he put a hand on her shoulder, "The waiting. It'll be over soon."
Clary tried to smile but it still came out as a thin line. Then as if nothing was mentioned, she continued to sketch, adding what looked like angel wings into the mix.
"—who have always been there for me all throughout this endeavor of filling up this space with worthy paintings. To my teachers and instructors who still continuously tell me that there is a huge, huge difference between ecru and cream…" The crowd chuckled lightly at the humor.
"And to my family…" Clary glanced back to her mom and Luke and Lily. "… who made all of this risk worth trying." She breathed another sigh of relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you very much. So, look around and I hope you'll enjoy!"
There was a loud applause and a few cheering from her classmates. Soon, after endless congratulations and handshakes from her guests, the gallery was slowly filled with sweet silence and murmurings as they started to scan the place and admire all her artworks.
Clary started to walk too, enjoying her pace. And once, she saw Luke trying to get hold of a running Lily wanting to see her portrait again on the other side of the room. Her mother on the other hand, was still busy taking all the congratulations and the compliments. Clary let her mother bask in the glory. Jocelyn was, after all, the one who taught her to love painting.
She walked a little farther towards the quieter area. The big room was divided by several walls, like a maze of some sort, with walk-ins and forks that each led to other themed areas of the exhibit.
"This is exquisite." She heard someone say as she entered a new area. Clary silently walked behind them, trying to be inconspicuous.
"See the brushstrokes? Unbelievable! She will be big someday." Clary saw the other person nod in agreement. They talked and stared at the painting for a couple more minutes, claiming that if it were to be auctioned or sold, they would be willing to pay some thousand dollars for it. Clary smiled as she overheard. She then watched as they moved on to the next painting, though still glancing back every once in a while at the previous one, clearly still mesmerized.
Clary came closer to the 'thousand-dollar' painting. Yes, the brush strokes were exquisite. Fine, and smooth… flawless, if ever there was such a thing as a flawless painting. But the thousand-dollar painting, Clary knew, would never be sold. Even if the highest bid would be close to millions.
"Pretty, eh?" Someone said beside her. Clary turned around and was not surprised to see Simon.
"Late, Lewis. You're late." Clary teased, still looking at the painting.
"Sorry. Mom didn't believe I was going to the exhibit. Thought I was sneaking to a party again. She thinks I'm all into this college fraternity parties. But of course I must tell her they're 'parties' when I go out. But by parties, I meant the," Simon looked around to see if there were eavesdroppers. "The coven."
"Of course." Clary sighed and looped her arm with Simon's. "Your biting parties."
"Shut up." Simon chuckled.
They both studied the painting again. Quiet, as if a secret was being exchanged. And if someone entered the area and saw the dark haired boy and the redhead girl, with arms looped together, under the elegant lighting of the gallery, the serene atmosphere of the place… no one would doubt their affection towards each other. But if that someone tried to look harder, it wouldn't be difficult to see the small deflection between the lovers—no, not exactly lovers, friends, perhaps—that both were guarded. Guarded, yet, the longing for companionship was truly overwhelming. That they might've just ended up right in each other's arms because there was no one else to go to; suffering the pain of knowing that even in each other's presence—staring blankly at a strange painting of tall glass structures with mountainous background—it still wasn't good enough.
Clary and Simon shared that secret of yearning; looking at the painting of Alicante, reminding them of their sorely missed friends, so far away that the ache was devastating.
"How are you?" Simon finally asked.
Clary shrugged. "Okay, I guess."
"Good." He nodded. "Something new to report aside from 'exhausted' or 'tired'."
"What do you mean?" But of course Clary already knew.
"That there was never once a good thing worth mentioning to Jace every time I visit Alicante? To see that dark look on his face whenever he hears the same old 'busy', 'tired', 'school works' excuses you give him?"
"Those are not excuses, Simon. They are facts."
"Maybe. But it doesn't make him feel any better… the same way it doesn't make you."
"Then what do you want me to say? That I'm getting tired and impatient and that I finally decided not to pretend? Pretend that I still believe our relationship could work?"
Simon thought that it was foolish. Of course she wanted their relationship to work.
"You have to work at it, Clary. You chose this life, remember?"
"Don't remind me, Simon. I know it's my fault." Clary snapped.
Simon sighed, staring blankly again on the painting of Alicante.
"I didn't say anything like that." He started explain calmly. "I'm just saying that it takes a lot of work. Of effort."
Simon took Clary by the shoulder and turned her to face him, finally away from the image of Alicante.
"Jace is working hard to make it work, Clary. Believe me when I say he does. Jace is doubling his efforts in training just so he could get out earlier; defending me in the Clave when they decided that my work is done and I'm no longer needed to return to Alicante. Heaven forbid, but I know that he just did that to still make me a messenger, but still, those acts prove how much he didn't want to lose his so little communication with you. And in by doing so, he knows he's increasing the chances of seeing you sooner."
Simon lightly shook Clary, as if trying to wake up her common sense.
"Did you get what I mean?" He asked.
Clary frowned and fought the tears. She looked down at her foot and bit her lip.
"Oh, Fray. When will you ever realize that he can't really—like, really, really—live without you?" Simon took her in his arms as they walked away from the painting.
"I guess I just needed some reminding." Clary whispered, wiping some tears.
"That's why I'm here." And then Simon held her closer.
Three cups of coffee wasn't something Clary would be taking early in the morning during school breaks. But the hangover from last night's "partying" was kicking in. Jocelyn had a few words, but she can't totally blame Clary. She was with her, both of them drinking red wine in the porch while Simon and Luke had beer. A small gathering to end such a huge celebration.
"You do realize that I'm only twenty years old?" Clary asked her mother after taking another sip from her mug.
"Ah, well. We're only in the house." Jocelyn explained. "And you'll have your legal chance by next year, so it wouldn't make such difference—unless you make it a habit!" Jocelyn squinted her eyes towards Clary as she washed the breakfast plates with Lily—singing some nursery songs somewhere in the living room—as their background music.
"I don't even find the taste appealing, mom. I'd rather have the orange juice."
"Good then! Then I don't need to worry." Jocelyn crossed the room and kissed Clary on the forehead. "Going to the gallery this early?"
"Yes! First day of public viewing." Clary placed the mug on the kitchen counter. "Simon will be there later this afternoon. But I'll drop by in the bookshop first."
"Alright then. Say goodbye to Luke in the garage."
Clary nodded and then kissed her mom once more. She hurriedly hugged Lily in the living room and then made her way to meet Luke.
"Hey," Clary knocked on the garage door frame. "Still working on 'ol rusty?"
Luke looked up from the hood and grinned at her. "Yep. Still a few pieces to fix." Luke turned the screw tighter, while Clary was curiously watching.
"So," Luke said as he finished, appraising Clary from head to toe at the same time. "Going somewhere? Corporate attire? Nice, Clary."
"Oh, shut up, Luke."
"Well, you do look lovely," Luke placed the wrench back in his tool box and then walked closer to Clary. "I see why Jace couldn't simply let you go."
At the name, Clary's cheerful face somewhat fluctuated. Just for a millisecond. But of course Luke had caught that. And apparently, even the scene with Simon from last night.
"I saw you with Simon in the gallery," Luke started, leaning against the truck and folding his arms, like the interrogating father that he always was. "Everything okay? Not happy with his last gift?"
Luke had the chance to go back to Alicante a few months back, just when Clary's starting to prepare for the exhibit. The Clave called for him for just one reason: convince him and Jocelyn to return. He didn't budge, of course, but he said that if there was a need for them—him, Jocelyn and even Clary to go back, for reasons of life and death, of saving Nephilims from harm—then they would be in Alicante in a heartbeat. The Clave, seeing their defeat, accepted Luke's promise. But Luke visiting Alicante, for Clary, wasn't just about reporting to the Clave. Luke visiting Alicante would also mean the Lightwoods.
It was Luke who passed on the news to them about her exhibit. He was the "messenger" for that trip. He said that the Lightwoods were so proud of her, they told him to send Simon back as soon as possible with some pictures of the gallery in hand. But Jace, who was a quiet the whole time he was talking about Clary, asked for another favor before he left, just a few meters away from the portal.
"For good luck, I guess. To keep away the demons." Jace explained to Luke as he handed him the gift wrapped in some dark cloth. "Though tell her not to use it, if she's still not ready."
Luke knew what was inside the cloth and nodded.
"I wish I could give you something in return." He told him.
"News then," Jace grinned. "How is she?"
Luke smiled. "She's like an artist. Sketches flying all over the house, paint blotches on the carpet and on the hardwood floors… her mother not being able to keep up with her pace…"
Jace chuckled. What would he sacrifice in exchange to see that beautiful chaos.
"But of course," Luke continued, staring at Jace warmly. "She misses you."
Jace nodded. "Well, tell her I miss her too."
He sounded a bit… hurt? Jealous? Luke thought then. The grim line of Jace's smile said it all.
"I will." Luke said, hoping that the sincerity of his promise would come across. Jace needed all the assurance he could get. And with a final nod, he left.
" Everything okay?" he repeated as Clary didn't respond soon. "Something about the gift you didn't like?"
"No, it's not the gift." Clary finally replied. "It's just…it's hard, this waiting."
"Yes, the waiting is hard." Luke agreed. "Sixteen years I waited for your mom."
Clary chuckled.
"But it was worth it." Luke said, nostalgia running through his veins. "All of it will be worth it, Clary."
"Is is really?"
He looked at Clary as if she were joking. "Of course it is! I'm in the state of my life where I am happiest. I'm married to the woman that I love and I have two wonderful and very beautiful daughters! I'm feeling as if the suffering never happened."
Clary nodded then stared down at her feet again, pursing her lips as she felt the same weakness from last night.
"I want to hug you right now if not for all the oil and grease," Luke continued as he motioned his hands and dirtied shirt, "But whatever it is that's bothering you, Clary, I'm here. Like always."
"I know." Clary nodded.
"And he said 'If you're ready'. It's not as if he's giving you an ultimatum." He shrugged.
"I know he's not. It was just to tell me that I have a choice—still have a choice."
Luke was silent for a moment. Then, after gathering up the courage, as he had always been afraid to say this, he finally asked. "Do you want to go back to Alicante?"
Clary thought that the offer was so tempting. After years of denial between her and her mother and Luke, they all knew that sometime during two years that had elapsed, doubts crossed her—Clary's—mind. She could've been great in Alicante. She was already deemed great in Alicante.
But the last two years in New York were just as spectacular.
"No…not without you or mom or Lily to think about."
Luke nodded and sighed. Relieved. "It was just a question."
Just a question, Clary thought.
Then was it also just a question—an inquiry, an honest offer—when Jace sent her, wrapped in the dark cloth, the seraph blade?
"Though tell her not to use it, if she's still not ready."
"New books on aisle six, Clary." Tom beamed behind the counter as she entered Keeper's Bookstore.
Clary nodded in thanks as some readers in the far corner disapproved of the noise. Tom winked at her and urged her to go on aisle six already. She placed her things on her favorite table, the one just right across the window, overlooking her old Prep school. Clary stood for a moment and watched as girls in plaid skirts and boys in grey sweaters entered the school gates. The same gates where, just a few years ago, she and Simon walked through… Jace picking her up at exactly 4 o'clock…
"Nostalgic, are we?"
"Tom!" Clary exclaimed in surprise. Other customers looked in their direction. Clary felt the rush of blood in her cheeks. "Don't do that. Ever."
"Sorry," he whispered. "Just wondered why you're standing here."
Clary relaxed. She knew Tom. He didn't want to cause any harm. He was, anyway, already a good friend of hers.
"So what are the new books?" Clary asked as they walked around the store.
"Mostly about architecture. But I thought the sceneries are perfect for you to sketch or paint." He shrugged. "Been in your exhibit, by the way."
"Already?" she asked, surprised.
"Yep! Just before I opened the store. I might not be able to get enough break time today with the decrease of the staff because of the flu, so I thought I'd drop by before I get to work. It was awesome, by the way, Clary. Truly."
Clary smiled at him warmly. Even though just sixteen, Tom knew his way in cooing girls. He tried once with Clary. Light brown hair, gray eyes, and lean body, Clary had to admit Tom was attractive. But of course she had to decline.
"Thank you, Tom. Really. I'm glad you're one of the firsts to visit the exhibit."
Tom actually blushed. "No biggie, Clary… Well, here you go, aisle six. I hope you fine some good stuff."
"I sure will, Tom. As always."
Clary watched Tom walk away, still with that obvious blush on his face. Clary had to grin at that.
She scanned through the shelves carefully and found the newly added books: Architecture For The Risky. Suburban Ideas. Lawn Power. High Rise: Metal on Metal. Great Gardens.
Clary instantly pulled out Architecture for the Risky. She opened the book and scanned. She was surprised out how truly risky the designs were. Caved in houses, houses atop a hill, inside the caves… houses shaped like water pipes, houses with bicycles for fences…
"Hey!" Clary heard Tom shout. "Come back here you, thief! Hey!" Tom ran past aisle six and Clary hurriedly closed the book wanting to see the commotion. A few patrons also followed suit. She saw Tom running towards the door after some guy in a hooded jacket.
"What happened?" Clary asked the nearest to her.
"I think that guy stole something."
Afraid for her own things, Clary hurriedly went back to her table. And when she got there…
"For the love of…" Clary groaned.
"Clary," She heard Tom pant and breath heavily behind her. "I'm sorry… he's… too fast…. Called the police… wait… here…"
"Calm down, Tom. Just my art kit was stolen." Clary assured him that none of her personal stuffs were taken. She had it in her body bag with her. Although, the art kit itself was precious to her, at least she still had her wallet and cellphone.
"Just an art kit, Tom." Clary said again, almost chuckling. "Pencils and other stuffs like sharpeners, and erasers, and—"
And then Clary's body ran cold.
"Clary?" Tom slowly approached her, a frown on his face.
Ithuriel. The seraph blade, his favorite, was in her kit as well.
THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! I had so much fun writing that I realized I had it too long that I decided to cut it! So here's the first half! Thanks again to all the lovely comments! :))