I stare out the window, thinking about the day. January 18--the day Clary died.
It's been ten years since I found her in the park, violently coughing and in a daze. Every anniversary I think about my last moments with her. I'll admit that most of what I said was to comfort her--I knew she was going to die as soon as the elevator stopped. After that, my only thought was of making her happy in her last moments. I've always felt there was a part of me that really did still love her--there just wasn't enough of it.
I'll never forget the look on Isabelle's face when I stepped out of the elevator with Clary's limp body in my arms. She had been walking to the library with Simon when I stepped out. The way her face changed and contorted from its smile into one of pure pain will forever be imprinted on my brain.
Simon wasn't much better. He was heartbroken over the loss of Clary. She had been his truest friend--his sister. His legs gave out on him and he fell to his knees. While he cried he yelled at me wanting to know what I had done. I didn't say anything as I set her limp body of the ground next to him. As he pulled her close I turned and walked away, not wanting to deal with the feelings.
Four years later Livia and I got married. It was a rather simple event. The only people who came were our closest family. Isabelle, who had been married to Simon for a year already, had been heavily pregnant with their first daughter--a girl who was to be named Clarissa Elaine Lovelace.
A year later we had a daughter of our own. After looking at her curled blonde hair and green eyes, I couldn't help but wonder, had Clary and I originally worked out, if this is what our daughter would have looked like. So, she was given the name Alexis Clarissa Herondale.
The world really does have a sick sense of humor, though. One thing that I always dreaded was how the dates lined up. As it got closer and closer to the anniversary of her death I found myself praying to the Angel that Alex wouldn't be born of the anniversary. I had been relieved when Livia went into labor until I looked at the clock when I heard my daughter cry. 00:01, January 18. On the same day one Clarissa was taken from this world another was given.
There's a tragically poetic irony in there somewhere.
"Daddy!"
I turn quickly from my spot at the window to see Alex running up to me. I smile softly when I see her and bring her up into my arms. "Dad guess what," she says as I set her on my lap.
"What?" I ask her, her bright green eyes full of excitement.
"I'm five years old today."
"You're not allowed to be five years old," I tell her, making her laugh. "You have to stay four years old forever."
She giggles slightly as I tickle her. I can't help it, though, that as I look at her, watch my daughter grow up, and see how she looks at the world I think about Clary. The two are so similar in personality that it's almost impossible.
"Daddy," Alex inquires, "who's Clary Fairchild?"
My smile fades and I look at her. "Where did you hear that name, Al?"
"Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Simon were talking about her. I thought they were talking about my cousin until they said her last name. I remembered it because I was thinking of the faeries," she elaborates. "Who was she?"
"She was a friend," I say simply. "She uh, she died ten years ago."
"When did she die?"
"Alex, I don't think you should be hearing about this on your birthday," I try, wanting to change the subject.
"Pleeeeaaaase Daddy?" Al flashes one of her best begging faces and I sigh slightly.
"She died today, ten years ago," I admit.
"But today is my birthday."
"And now you know why I didn't want to tell you," I say, a bit of a chastising tone hidden in there.
"Is that why my middle name is Clarissa?" she wonders, her little eyebrows scrunching together. After I nod slightly, she adjusts herself on my knee and holds her chin up with her hands. "Tell me about her."
"I don't know Alex. Your birthday is supposed to be a happy day."
"Daddy, shut up and just tell me the story." I raise my eyebrows to her and she quickly adds a, "Please".
And so I tell her the very simplified, PG version of the story of Clarissa Adele Fairchild. Livia would probably kill me if she knew I was telling our daughter this on her birthday but I was told to, in the words of Alex, "shut up and tell the story". Alex listens with a bright fascination in her eyes as she listens to the epic tale. When all is said and done, I can't help but think about the look of pure adoration on my little girl's face.
"I wish I could have met her," Alex says after I finish the story.
I smile sadly at her and kiss her forehead. "I wish you could have too."
AN
OMFG IM NOT DEAD
This was a really crappy installment but it was more so to bring a conclusion to Stone Cold as well as let you know that I am, in fact, alive. Recently I have been working on a very detailed and time consuming piece that (I hope) will be ready for uploading in about two weeks.
Peace out
Bella
