The Wedding Guest
My wedding day dawns warm and bright. I can feel the soft breeze rustling through the curtains before it crosses my face, sweet and gentle as Peeta's kisses. I roll over and rub my eyes, then focus on the dress that hangs on the closet door. It's a soft yellow color, the last pick in a long line of options. I will wear this dress for Peeta, and I will say long forgotten vows for him, but even he knows that we were bound together long before this day.
I can hear him downstairs now. The mixer is going at full tilt. He's baked us a chocolate cake to celebrate our favorite indulgence, and he's going to frost it with white icing and then decorate it with tiny yellow flowers. I can't wait to have a slice.
There are other things I can't wait to do. My mother came in last night and is no doubt downstairs pestering Peeta as I lay up here, feigning sleep. I should spend time with her, but my mind has wandered to a different person, scheduled to arrive today.
Gale and I kept up a regular correspondence following the revolution, but for the first three years many of his letters read as a report of what was going in 2, but in the middle of the third year his letter's had a brighter tone. Around the time of the first Thankful Day, I received a letter brimming with happiness.
"Catnip," Gale had written, "I've met someone. I can't wait to introduce you. We will be attending your wedding, and, in fact, we are planning our own! I think I know what love feels like now."
We had written back and forth several times during the long and frigid winter, and I always thought about him whenever I went out hunting. Now, today, he would be back to where he used to call home, if only for a visit. I couldn't wait to see him.
I finally climbed from my bed and took a shower, and when I walked out, I found breakfast sitting on the bedside table along with a bouquet of buttercups. They make me smile and think of the infernal cat Prim used to own. Buttercup found his own destiny, so I have to believe, as he left the house following a delicious breakfast one morning and never returned.
I finish my breakfast and then suddenly my mother is there, helping me dress, and braiding my hair. Then I'm alone again, sitting in my room, waiting to walk downstairs. There's a knock at the door and I tell whoever it is to come in. The door opens.
"I've been told to assess the situation…" Gale says, walking in, one hand covering his eyes. I scream and laugh, and he uncovers his eyes and I run over and then we are hugging, holding one another tight. I pull away and look him over. Like Peeta, Gale has filled in, becoming less sinew and bone and more soft places which are comfortable to touch. His hair is very short and but his face is still tan. His hands are well worn and calloused, but soft at the same time, as he holds my hand in his and pretends to gawk at the simple metal ring Peeta proposed with. I laugh and hug him again.
"How is the situation?" I asked, and Gale holds me at arm's length and gives me a calculating assessment.
"Not bad for a girl who's only wore a dress a select few times in her life," Gale says, and I punch him in the arm. "I would have to report that Mr. Mellark is a lucky man indeed."
"We're all lucky," I say, and Gale just looks in my eyes and nods carefully, as if he's remembering how lucky we all are.
"I'm happy for you," Gale says quickly.
"And I'm happy for you as well," I say. Gale smiles. There's a knock at the door and then it opens a little and I see blond hair and blue eyes. "I'm ready." The door opens all the way and for a second I can only look at Peeta. He's dressed in a gray suit and smells like chocolate. He looks over me and then he walks over and kisses me once on the lips. Gale's still holding my hand but it all feels perfectly natural. I've learned to survive with them both and wouldn't have it any other way.
"They're ready for us," Peeta says. "Are you ready?" I nodded and smile to him, and then look back to Gale. He has an odd look on his face, like he can't believe I'm getting married, but that he is happy for us both. Peeta takes my arm and I let go of Gale's hand as we head for the door.
"Wait," I say, and stop, and Peeta looks at me with that worried look he gets sometimes, when he starts to think that reality might be slipping from his grasp again. I kiss him on the lips and it alleviates the worry, just a bit. He's nervous about getting married only because he wants us to be happy together for a long time, but our future still feels uncertain. We have had many long talks and agree that one day, soon, things beyond our love will feel certain.
"What's the matter?" Peeta asks.
"I read about a long ago tradition, where… the bride had someone give her away. Not as a possession, but just as… one part of life ending and another beginning," I say. "Gale, would you… give me away?"
"Of course," Gale says. I look to Peeta, who nods and then shakes Gale's hand.
A plan is quickly worked out before Peeta leads us downstairs and outside to the lovely garden we have behind our house. Peeta and I have filled it with many sweet smelling flowers and herbs. A collection of people have gathered on the lawn: my old prep team, my mother, some friends from town, and even Haymitch, who will be officiating the ceremony. There is one unfamiliar face I don't dwell on, as suddenly everyone is in place and I'm holding a bouquet of wildflowers. Gale takes my arm, not too tightly, and he walks me through our friends to a misty eyed Peeta. He hugs me once more and then hugs Peeta before stepping aside. Peeta takes my hand and then kisses me, and Haymitch clears his throat and says he's not sure if we are supposed to do that or not.
We blend old traditions with new: we jump a broom and smash a glass beneath our shoes, we vow in sickness and in health until death do us part, we tear each tear off a piece from a sweet bread Peeta has baked specially for us. It is called Lover's Bread for it's warm vanilla and sugar taste. It was the first thing Peeta ever baked for me.
After the bread we read poems from many, many years before, and then seal everything with a sweet kiss that lingers, but for once I don't loathe kissing him in public, since this is for nothing more than pure and simple love. Then we are walking back down the aisle beneath a flurry of flower petals. We cut our cake and enjoy huge slices with everyone, and then immediately launch into a dance the entire town joins in on.
Peeta and I finally take a break from celebrating to each have another slice of cake, and that's when Gale walks over. He's not alone, with him in a man who carries himself with Gale's military precision and adopted attempt at relaxation. The man is slightly taller than Gale, and just a little older. Something about him reminds me of Finnick. His hair is short and his eyes are green and piercing. His smile is so perfect, he had to have grown up in two.
Most shockingly of all, however, is his demeanor with Gale. It's hard to tell where Gale ends and this man begins. They are so at ease with one another. I thought I was the only person Gale could be himself around, but now I know I am wrong. This man was the missing half Gale didn't know he was missing. Before Gale opens his mouth I'm prepared to fawn over the man, to tell him how lucky he is to be with Gale, and to find out everything about the man Gale has decided to marry. It's absolutely perfect. A better ending to Gale's story could not have been written.
"Katniss, I want you to meet someone very special to me," Gale says. "This is Astrik."
I smile and shake Astrik's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you," I say.