Cinna's Legacy
I'm in our coat closet snuggled in with my father's hunting jacket and Peeta's coat. They're warm and they smell good, but most of all they fill me with a feeling of comfort. Comfort, a luxury that has been granted to me due to the rebellion. I'm falling asleep when I hear the door open. Peeta's home.
"Daddy!" little Ry yells. I hear a grunt as Peeta catches the chubby little toddler.
"Hey, where's Mommy?" Peeta asks the child, as if he knew where I was. That was when the absurdity of this situation sunk in. I was wiping my tears on my husbands jacket in a closet while my children try to find me. I am so ridiculous.
Peeta's voice approaches. "Have you seen your mother, Dear?" he asks my daughter, our daughter.
"Nu-uh…" she says, probably preoccupied reading through my book of plants. "Daddy, did you draw this?" she asks. Peeta answers distractedly.
"Probably."
"It says Pr-iii-mmrozz," she mutters, sounding out the word the way I'd taught her. I sob into the soft fabric.
"Put that away Gardenia," Peeta demands. He's obviously very upset by my disappearance. "Katniss," he calls out. "Where are you, Katniss?"
"Nia!" Ry shrieks in his giggly toddler voice.
"What?"
"Katniss!"
"Dada said to put that away… stop looking at the Prim…"
I let out an audible cry. There was no way around it. Today had just been an upheaval of sorrowful feelings. First when the kids got back from school and now the damn book. It was supposed to help me gather food, not to wound me with its words.
"No! It says Primrose… rose, Ry, get it right!" Nia said temperamentally, she'd gotten that from me. I hoped she didn't get my sensitivity to the unpleasant events in life. How was I supposed to react when little Nia came home telling me that she had a school project to do on an influential member of the revolution. Gardenia of course was assigned Cinna. My mentor, my stylist and my confidant. What was I supposed to do? My wounds hadn't healed and they never would, there wasn't a sponsor to save me this time.
I opened the door and attempted to get up to welcome my husband home, but instead I fell forward without the power to move. I lied on the ground with the carpet imprinting onto my face until Peeta decided to walk upstairs.
"Geez Katniss!" he squeaked at the sight of me. I moaned to myself as the saltwater piled in my eyes. He rushed to my side and helped me up. My eyes leaked incessantly until they were dry. I could see the faces of Rye and Gardenia peeking around the corner to see what was wrong. I looked at Peeta trying to convey that I didn't want to talk about it. Instead of reassuring me he lifted me and carried me to our room. If I'd had the energy to kick and scream I would have.
"Peeta," I whined. He set me on the bed and climbed in next to me. I didn't move. He wrapped his fingers around a tendril of my hair and pet my head soothingly until I calmed down. Once my breathing was normal and the carpet had most disappeared from my face he asked me what I hoped he wouldn't.
"What happened?" I felt the earth stop spinning and my heart start hammering. Now I was remembering my last minutes with Cinna and how he'd been one of the first to die for me. I remembered all of the dress bags in my closet with his designs in them. I remembered my sad attempt at designing and how Cinna had saved me then as well. I remembered the wedding dress. The one I never got to wear.
"Cinna," I replied in a short breath. He slung his arm over my shoulder and held me so close that his metal leg made my calf cold. I wanted so badly to return to the closet but Peeta made me feel so much better in his embrace, almost well enough to do something about my situation, almost.
I fell asleep in his arms and dreamed. It was one of those dreams where you know you're dreaming. Cinna was there of course, and so was Prim. Two reasons I knew it was a dream. We were having a tea party, this was the third reason I knew it was a dream. As we all daintily enjoyed our dream-tea Prim and Cinna talked.
"I wish I was there to make clothes for the little Mellarks," Cinna said. Prim smiled.
"I'm afraid Katniss doesn't help them with that," she giggled.
"Hey!" I said, furiously defending my parenting. "I can't design or sew, how am I supposed to make them clothing?"
"Creativity Katniss!" Cinna replied.
"I can't help Nia with her project; I wouldn't know where to start."
"Your chariot outfit from the 74th games," Prim replied. "I thought you looked really pretty in that." I smiled.
"May the odds be ever in your favor," Cinna chuckled. I awoke with a new sense of pride and respect. I would help Gardenia with her project if it was the last thing I do. The next few weeks consisted of much purchasing of fabric and many attempts at Cinna's beautiful work. Until finally it was the day of their presentations. I came to school with Nia and watched her walk into the classroom.
She was my daughter on fire.
She took their breath away and mine as well. Cinna would be proud.
