215 - 444 - 0984 - 12:02 am: Happy Birthday, baby. I love you.
I glance at the bright screen of my cell phone, trying to adjust my sleepy eyes to the message that is surely not meant for me. My birthday isn't for another month and half, and I don't even recognize that number. I sigh, wondering if I should respond.
Katniss - 12:03 am: Who's this? I think you have may have the wrong number.
I text back on the off chance that maybe I have some sort of secret admirer that wants to confess their feelings for me. I sit up in bed, chewing on my thumb, waiting for the mysterious person to text back.
215 - 444 - 0984 - 12:05 am: This was my wife's phone number when she was still alive. I always send her a text even though she's not with me anymore. This is the first year someone has actually answered. I'm sorry I bothered you. It won't happen again. Have a good night.
My heart drops to my stomach when I reread the message a couple times. I take a deep breath, wondering if I should answer back. I've never been in this type of situation before. Even in the text message, I can tell that the person on the other end still carries a heavy weight on their shoulders. I'm not going back to bed anytime soon, and maybe this person needs a friend to talk to.
I'm not sure why I do it, but I hit the button with the tiny phone and listen to the ringing on the other end.
"Hel–hello?" the voice says, a tone of surprise in his deep voice.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. "Um, I'm really sorry to have called you, but I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about your wife and that you can text this number whenever you need to. It doesn't bother me."
"I really appreciate that," he says softly. "You're very sweet. I apologize for probably waking you up."
I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. "I wasn't really asleep," I say with a laugh, remembering the huge presentation I have in the morning. "What's your name?"
"Peeta."
My heart stops in my chest at his name. No, it can't be. I haven't heard about Peeta since…since his wife died a few years ago in a car accident that cost him his leg and her life. It was a shock to everyone who'd heard. Peeta had been a star athlete in school. When I'd heard he lost his leg, I could only imagine how devastated he probably felt.
"Peeta Mellark?" I ask, my chest pounding. This isn't possible.
"You know who I am?"
I want to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation. Peeta was one of the sweetest, nicest guys I'd known growing up. He was a friend to everyone. We didn't talk much, but the few times we had, he was always so nice and personable. "I–you probably won't remember me," I tell him. "It's, uh–it's Katniss. Katniss Everdeen."
"I remember you," he says, and I do my best to remember his bright blue eyes and thick blonde curls that he always hid under a backwards baseball cap. "It's been ten years, but I could never forget you."
Again, my heart pounds in my chest, louder and faster. "I'm sorry you lost your leg."
It's the first time I hear his laugh, and it's just as I remember. Loud. The type of laugh that brings a smile to your face when you hear it. "Thanks Katniss," he says, still laughing. "I have a fake one now. It does the job."
"So, uh, what else have you been up to?" I ask nervously.
"I moved back home after everything," he tells me. "My parents let me work in the bakery, and that's been really helpful, but I've just been trying to move on and be happy again. It's hard picking up the broken pieces, but I've done okay. What about you?"
"I live in the city and work for an advertising company. I miss the quiet of home, though," I say, remembering a time when car horns didn't wake me up at all hours of the night. "I miss the bakery and Sae's pizza place."
Peeta and I talk about everything and anything. The conversation flows easily between us. He makes me long to go home and be with my family again.
"Katniss, it's almost four o'clock in the morning," he says. I glance at my alarm clock, wondering how so much time could have gone by so quickly. "I'm sure you didn't expect to be up this late talking to some weirdo who still texts his dead wife on her birthday."
"I can't imagine a better way to have spent my night," I say with a smile. "It's been fun."
When I answered his text message earlier, I didn't expect it would result in anything like this. And then to call and find it's Peeta Mellark. He's grieving his dead wife on her birthday, and I'm selfishly wanting to keep up our conversation.
"Hey Katniss, do you think it would be okay if I call you again sometime?"
A wide smile spreads across my face. I was really hoping he would ask, and I don't even need to think about my answer.
"I'd like that."
