AN: Ok. This chapter isn't funny. I had to finally tackle what happened to Madge over the last ten years and it would have been a disservice to try and make light of it. I missed messing with Gale's head though
I can say I put a lot of work into trying to make this chapter just right. So hopefully that will make up a little for the lack of humor. I really really hope it works!
(As usual, all hail Greenwool: her ninja beta skills, her general awesomeness and being a wonderful person and friend)
I call in every favor I've accrued over the last five years and get my TSI month switched for outpatient day surgery. I spend March removing cysts from people's asses and ripping out ingrowing toenails but I've got time to trek the 80+ miles that separate me from Madge.
The botanical gardens are a wild success.
We go three times. I don't tell Mellark.
They do this display called the River of Lights where they cover the gardens in lanterns and build giant light sculptures. Every exhibit has Madge tugging on my sleeve and pointing. She whispers in my ear about the history behind the artwork done for the displays; I have no idea about half of what she's saying but I like to hear her talk.
We're walking to the parking lot one night when she stops and just stares up at the sky. I'm blowing into my hands to keep warm, not sure what's got her attention, when she says, "I wonder what the stars look like now."
I quirk an eyebrow at her and she kind of coughs and flushes but goes on, "I mean, think about it. The stars are so far away. It took thousands of years for that light to reach us. By now I bet a ton of them have burnt out."
I stare up now too, startled. I guess I knew that but never really thought about it. Don't know how she sees things like that.
She murmurs, "The sky looks breath taking, but it's all in the past. What you see may not even exist anymore."
I blink. I feel like I'm supposed to comment, but I'm not good at 'saying something', so I stuff my hands in my pockets and keep quiet. Does it matter what something used to be if what's in front of you is perfect? I don't know.
We're almost back to the car when a random thought hits me.
"Well," I start, "I wouldn't think of it as a bunch of burnt out stars. There could be supernovas or nebulas..."
She stops walking, and just looks at me. I kind of stumble as I say, "I just mean, it's like an old photograph. A baby picture. Maybe what's coming is even better."
I'm not actually sure that makes sense, but I guess it's not important because she walks over, pulls my head down and kisses me.
I'm pretty sure she'll be the death of me, but what a way to go.
She calls me one random Thursday afternoon and asks if I want to go bowling. I don't bowl, and can't say it's how I'd choose to spend a weeknight, but that doesn't stop me from offering to pick her up at 7pm.
"Aw, thanks, but I got it. I'll just meet you up there."
She almost never lets me pick her up. In fact, the only time I've driven her anywhere was when we went to that movie theater that was so close to her place we could have walked if we weren't running late.
I figure it's not a big deal, but in my head I know the reason I usually refuse rides is because I want to make sure I have a fast getaway.
Does she need to get away from me?
I remind myself that she's the one asking to hang out, not me, so this really isn't the time to start getting worked up about shit. It just gets shoved into the Madge Mystery Box that occupies most of my brain.
We meet at the bowling alley that is on par with the crappy movie theater; scuffed lanes, cigarette smoke and the smell of too-many-times-used frying oil. But I forget all that when I see her bouncing on the balls of her feet, switching out her fuzzy pull-on boots (which I make a mental note, need replacing) for bowling shoes.
She looks giddy.
She flashes me a smile, and suddenly I find her in my arms giving me a fierce hug complete with head nuzzle.
Christmas is apparently being delivered early.
She pulls back to look at me and says, "It's really good to see you."
I ignore the heat radiating off my face and enjoy this moment for a sec. Madge never minded PDA in college but she was never very publically affectionate. This feels good.
She pulls away but drags me with her, turning back and smirking.
"Ready to get your ass kicked?"
Ha! A challenge? Oh babe, you have no idea what you've started.
Except I find out in about 15 minutes that Madge fucking rocks at bowling. I use my hands day in and day out, but this gives me no advantage. She doesn't even waste time repositioning her hands or eyeing the lanes. She just grabs a ball and throws. I don't know shit about bowling, but her form (and her anatomy) look pretty damn exceptional to me. In no time I've thrown my fifth gutter ball and she's up 3 strikes. To my annoyance I remember Mellark's take down on our camping trip. What is it with blondes kicking my ass these days?"
Despite the greasy smell, the nachos at this place are delicious and we chomp through a huge plate of them while she literally wipes the floor with me. Anyone else and I'd be fucking pissed at this point, but she just looks so damn thrilled right now it's pretty hard to be irritated. She's not even gloating, she just looks happy.
That's why I ask, when I'm finally ready to admit utter defeat, "Where on earth did you learn to bowl like this? I mean geez! You're a freaking Olympian!"
And all of sudden the glowing smile turns to glass.
It happens in a second. One moment she's ecstatic, the next, fighting tears. My stomach hits my knees; what the fuck did I do now?!
I can see her trying to shake whatever it is off, but I don't want that. I want her stop hiding things from me, and just fucking tell me what's wrong. (I'd also like to possibly stop making her cry.)
I reach forward to pull her close but she jerks away when I try to touch her. It's not the first time that's happened, but it hits so hard today I feel light headed.
And then she's trading in her bowling shoes and I guess we're done for the evening, but I feel kind of sick and I just don't understand-
She stops short at the door so suddenly I almost slam into her, then turns her head back and says, "Let's take a walk."
Um. Ok.
It was warm and kind of sweaty in the bowling alley but outside it's still cold. We huddle in our jackets but don't touch as we walk down the empty streets of her little town. I keep looking at her, waiting for something to happen, but all I see is her winter breath escaping the side of her jacket hoodie and hear the occasional sniffle.
I wait. It feels like a fucking eternity but she finally speaks.
"I need to stop having you drive all the way up here. And on a weekday! I should have come down-"
"I don't mind."
"Yeah, but seriously. It was fun at first, seeing how far you'd be willing to come to visit me, but now I just feel rude-"
"I. Don't. Mind."
Silence.
Our footsteps sound like Mellark in the woods.
Finally she says, "My mom taught me. She was like a champion bowler before she married my dad. Had trophies and everything; was part of a team. When I first left school and came home for her, we'd go 2 or 3 times a week."
Ok. Literally the first time I've heard anything about her mother, except the occasional comment from way back when. It occurs to me that maybe in those days she was dropping hints, lines for me to pick up on, ask more questions. But I was preoccupied with family and scholarships, plus waiting for her to dump me for a frat boy.
Not gonna make that mistake again.
"Why didn't your dad hire someone to take care of her?" I ask carefully.
She barks out a laugh that ricochets on the buildings lining the street.
"Oh he left. Mom's problems cost him a re-election so he walked out. Isn't there some Tracy Chapman song about this? It's always a bad sign, when you start hearing your life in a Tracy Chapman song."
Madge tries to laugh again but gives up and finally just says, "She was so unhappy. By that time she hated just about everything, even me I think. But she loved bowling. In the beginning she was strong enough to be good, but she just got so wasted. One day I beat her and I swear something in her broke."
Her voice starts to get shaky and I'm not sure how much longer I can stand her being so far away from me.
"If I'd known it was that important I would have let her win."
And suddenly she looks at me, tears stuck all over her lashes.
"You don't mind right? That I won? I swear you can win every other game-"
But then I can't stop myself and literally scoop her in my arms, ignoring the involuntary jump that happens too often before we touch.
"Madge, beat me at whatever you want, whenever you want, god. Just do whatever makes you happy…"
I don't know what I say while she cries into my shoulder, I just need her to not be sad, to not ever worry about making me upset, especially over a fucking game.
And then she pulls back again, trying to fake laugh her way out of crying and wiping her eyes.
"She died. It'll be six years today. I thought if I could just do something fun, just remember her when she was happy…"
She shaking again, pulling herself inward like a tight half ball, only she's stuck because she's standing. I wanna lie her down somewhere where she can curl as small as she wants and I can wrap myself around her, but we're stuck on the corner of Lead and Coal and all I can do is hold her here and hope it's good enough.
"I shouldn't have called you. That was such a selfish thing to do...I just thought if I was with you I'd be able to stay happy-"
I want to hold her tighter but I'm scared I'll hurt her. Or maybe shush her, but then again the last thing I want is for her to stop talking. What I really want is to take her home, but not to that shitty apartment.
We end up walking back to the parking lot of the bowling alley that's now closed and I have to let her peel her body away to get to her car.
I stand over the driver side, and watch her fumble with her keys.
"Madge, why don't I stay here tonight? I can sleep on the couch and be gone by morning-"
But she cuts me off, "We both have work tomorrow. Go home, Gale. Get some sleep. Maybe we can meet up this weekend?"
"Then come back to my place. Just tonight-"
"I have a 6 am shift. I couldn't make it back in time."
I want to scream. "Look, just let me stay-"
"Gale, I've done this half a dozen times already. I'll be fine tomorrow. And you've been great, more than great. This weekend, ok?"
I can't really talk so I nod dumbly.
Then she shuts the car door and drives off.
She told me not come home with her. She told me no.
I try to get in my car three times but my hands stop working. Finally I make it inside but I cannot get to the fucking freeway.
I spend the night on the curb outside her apartment. I don't sleep till her lights turn off.
I wake up with a start at 6 am and see a styrofoam cup on the hood of my car. Scrambling out of the driver's seat, I grab it.
Coffee mixed with hot chocolate.
It's weeks before I work up the nerve to ask anything else. When I do it's about her filthy rich father who thought it was ok to leave his 20 year daughter high and dry with a sick mother to fend for on her own. I can't even begin to understand that. Even though Vick is punk ass ingrate I make sure he is always fed and clothed; have since I was twelve. How the fuck do you abandon your child? (This is why I never did pediatrics. It'd take about one child abuse case for me to be arrested for homicide.)
But one night we're laying on the frosty grass of a dog park in town and she's pointing out stars to me that I've never heard of. I remember it was her father taught her astronomy from a fancy telescope on their roof and I ask her, "Do you ever hear from your dad?"
"Not anymore." It's the second time I've gotten this answer. But this time she doesn't have a class to teach and I haven't just shown up in her world with no warning. Now we're sharing a bottle of wine while we watch the winter circle winking above us in the early evening sky.
I wait. If I push her I notice she distracts me, starts pulling away. But I'm learning if I'm patient, sometimes, she'll say-
"After mom had hocked everything, including my instruments, and gotten arrested again,he showed up on a white horse and offered me an out. He'd make mom's charges vanish, take care of the legal fees, pay for a fancy rehab for her, fix everything. All I had to do was marry the son of his largest campaign donor. I put up with his world for three years. But once I left I swore I'd never speak to him again. And I won't. Not on his deathbed, not under court order, not at gunpoint. Never again."
Then she crawls over my body and bites my bottom lip.
I want to stop her. I want her to tell me more, explain it all. But her mouth is insistent and it's obvious, regardless of my desires, what hers are right now. If she wants this - I'll give it to her. Then maybe she'll be ok with telling me the rest, the stuff I need to hear...
But she doesn't. That night is the last time she says anything about her past.
She does become more and more steadily imbedded into my present; drives down once a week or more, and leaves food at my doorstep after night calls. Sometimes she buys Ivy little handmade trinkets from the shitzville farmer's market or finds garage sale tools for Posy. I discover she has a new appreciation for food of all kinds and we check out ever hole in the wall and dive bar across the miles that separate us. And of course music. She always had her stuff; classical, jazz and mopey alternative rock, but now she doesn't bat an eyelash when we listen to metal, bobs her head to hip hop, and introduces me to techno and ambient chill. When I finally get to hear her play the cello again, it's something haunting and sweet that sets my spine on fire. I ask her what it is, but she just says 'Irish', and smiles.
I relearn her body which is kind of insane, because I remember it like it was yesterday that she was nineteen and flawless. Now she's twenty-eight and her body is different - everything is different - but the same kind of wonderful that brands all my memories of her. There are sounds I never thought I'd hear again that pour out of her mouth. It feels so fucking good that I think this is enough.
This is priceless.
Nothing else matters but that we're here now.
At least until we meet at my bar one night only to have Katniss and Golden Boy show up.
Fuck my life.
I may have failed to mention to him that I've been seeing the girl he was worried about for months now. Her face lights up like a goddam Christmas tree when Mellark comes in and moments later they're hugging and laughing like fucking twins separated at birth. It doesn't help when he says, "Gale! You didn't tell me Madge was 'the girl'!"
She raises an eyebrow and mouths 'the girl?' to me, a clear question mark in her expression. I pretend to be preoccupied with chalking my cue. Of course Catnip hardly bats an eyelash as the two of them spend the evening huddled in a booth, catching up while we play pool. But it's not like I can fucking concentrate, what with her talking a mile a minute to Golden Boy. I mean I don't care or anything, she can talk to whoever she wants, I just wonder if he is getting the full story, if he knows where she's been and what's happened to her since he's so fucking easy to talk to.
What about me? Am I not easy to talk to?
I'm livid by the end of the evening. She tries to sidle up next to me when Katniss and I have finished our last round, but I can't even sit down by this point. I don't know what excuse I make when I leave; I just need to get the fuck away from them. But she follows me anyway.
"Gale? Gale! What's going on? What on earth is your problem?!"
What is my problem?! Is she kidding me?!
I lose it.
"Why can't you just tell me? You know every goddam thing about me, and you can't tell me one fucking thing about you!"
She rolls her eyes, huffing a breath. "Get your head out of your ass. You know everything about me that's important, more than anyone else on the fucking planet. There's a part of my life that's over. It's dead, like an ischemic limb. You don't linger over necrotic tissue, you amputate. Am I not right, Gale? Tell me I'm not right!"
"And Mellark? What about him? Is it okay for him to know?"
She shoots me a glare worthy of Katniss. "Get over yourself. You have no fucking idea what we were talking about: you were too busy hanging out with your best friend, who is a crazy-hot girl I happen to know you wanted to fuck in college. But do you see me having a hissy fit? No. Because I trust you and I expect you to give me the same fucking courtesy."
She storms off a second later and before I can blink, I hear her tires skidding across the pavement.
It occurs to me, this may be why she always drives.
I almost text her that night but I don't.
Instead I show up at her apartment just as she's leaving - she slams into my chest when she swings open the front door with muffled 'umph'.
She can't seem to make eye contact with me and I can tell she's off kilter, which makes me relax. I've felt unhinged since the moment she walked into my hospital room. The asshole in me is glad at least now we're both out of whack.
"Were you going somewhere?" I ask after she stumbles back into her living room, awkwardly offering me a seat at her kitchen table. Her place is sparse but clean. She takes off the poop-brown coat and throws it on the couch taking mine as well.
"I'm out of hot chocolate. Was going to get some."
Then we're both sitting at her rickety kitchen table and I'm staring at the scratch marks on the metal top. I had so much to say in the car, words to apologize for being angry and stupid, and to try to make her understand that I need to know what happened to her, what she had to go through.
How I failed her.
But before I can speak she says, "Do you know why I didn't say anything when you sent me that fucking awful text message that you were leaving?"
My eyes start to burn and I ball my fists.
She waits for answer.
Fuck this.
She's gonna make me say it, make me tell her that she was too good to follow some poor kid across the country when there were mansions and concert halls beckoning. Yeah, all right. I knew that. And I'll tell her just as soon as I remember how my mouth works-
"I knew I didn't deserve you," she says.
Wait, what?
She looks me straight in the eye. Doesn't flinch. I try to remember if I've been drinking. I must be completely wasted. That's the only thing that makes sense. Except we aren't drinking.
"I always knew, you know. I knew you'd do something incredible with your life, be somebody all on your own, better than all the worthless assholes we used to hang around. So when you said you were going to Wash U, I thought I could ask… to come visit or help you move. But really what had I ever done in my pitiful self-indulgent life to deserve you? And sure it felt good - it felt so right - being with you, but how could you really ever respect someone like me? A silly little rich girl who wanted to play music for a living? So I thought, ok, it feels like someone's ripping out my kidney. But it's for the best."
She tucks her hair behind her ears. I open my mouth 'cuz I know I need to say something, but she's taken my words. She can't be serious right now.
"And then mom was so sick. Nursing was perfect because I needed to take care of her. I even thought, hey doctor's needed nurses right? But I couldn't save her. And when my father said he'd make my problems go away and all I had to do was marry that horrible excuse of a human being, I thought, what's the worst that could happen? I'd be miserable? Lots of people are unhappy, why should I be privileged? What had I ever done to earn the right to be happy? So I thought, everything about this is wrong, but ok. It's for the best.
"Then one day I watched our neighbor kick his dog in the stomach for peeing on the porch. I called an animal abuse hotline, had the dog removed from him before the week was out. And it occurred to me; maybe it was ok to want as much for myself as I wanted for the neighbor's dog. It cost me a lot: I walked out of that door with literally nothing but the clothes on my back, but I was happy. And I thought - for the first time in my life - maybe, if I'm not hurting anyone, it's ok to be happy.
"So I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry I let you go, I'm not sorry for a single fucking shitty thing that happened after that, and I don't need you to be sorry for me either. Because we're here now and I am finally finally brave enough to say what needs to be said."
I need to get out of this room. I need to not look at her sleepy eyes and imagine bruises around them. I need to not be in a space where she's telling me she didn't deserve a two bit street dealer. I need to be anywhere else but here; maybe at Cato's mansion where I can break every goddamn bone in his body or at her father's so I can squeeze his windpipe until his fat lips turn blue. But I cannot be at her kitchen table for a second longer.
"I know you want to bolt," she says, and I'm so fucking tired of her reading me like a magazine.
"That's ok," she adds. "But. I'm gonna tell you what I couldn't tell you then. I want you to stay. I want you to figure out your shit, so you we can have something real this time. If you can do that, you won't ever have to doubt that I want you - that I want this - ever again. And if you still have to leave then fine, but at least this time you know how I feel."
I don't even realize I'm standing. I've pushed the chair back and I'm leaning over the table. I can't catch my breath. Why am I breathing so hard? And she's just watching me. She has this look on her face and I don't know what she's thinking. Why don't I ever know what she's thinking?
I have to get out of this house.
On cue she stands and walks to the living room, returning with my jacket. I fucking hate that she thinks she knows everything about me.
"Where's your coat?" I demanded.
She steps back confused. She looks totally lost.
About fucking time.
"You wanted hot chocolate, right? So let's get some hot chocolate. Go get your coat."
She's still standing there, looking at me like I'm a unicorn. That's right. I want to ask her how it feels, to be standing up when you're life gets flipped upside down. I'd be the person to question: she does it to me every single fucking day.
Suddenly she's scrambling to pull on her ugly coat and her fuzzy boots both of which I can't wait to replace. I wait for her to get her keys and find our way down the stairs.
The cold night air hits me like a semi truck and it feels so good. I pull her under my arm as we battle the crazy wind and I'm ready. Ready for a hailstorm, a hurricane, for the fucking elements to give me their worst. My kitten is a lioness; I'm up for anything. We walk to a 7-Eleven and I buy hot chocolate that we drink in the cold, huddled together stamping our feet. I can't go back to her apartment, because I need to sleep with her next to me and I won't sleep in the same place where she told me she was treated worse than someone's dog. I'll have to kill something and I can't hold her and kill at the same time. So I ask her to come home with me, even though home is an hour away and she'll have to leave with just her wallet, cell phone and the clothes on her back. She chuckles at this and says it's not the first time.
Not the first time, I think, but it will be the last.
She finally gets in my car. When we get home I make her dinner.
I'm warm when I wake up, but I'd be warmer if I had a body under my arm. I take in the nylon walls that filter the sunlight and sink further into my sleeping bag. I blearily see a shock of blonde hair, but I look carefully: defined, but distinctly feminine biceps.
I always check first now.
Then I pull her gently under my arm. She mumbles a little then curls herself lazily into my side, snoring softly.
Madge is not a morning person.
It's finally the smell of Golden Boy's pancakes that wakes her up. She's warm and ruffled; her hair is a rat's nest and her eyes are puffy. She wordlessly drapes my flannel shirt from last night over her shoulders and pulls her hair into a messy bun, leaning forward to kiss me. Then she's shimmying out of my tent asking Mellark where the syrup is.
She's like the fucking sun.
I crawl out of the tent where I find Golden Boy flipping pancakes, while Katniss and Madge brush their teeth over by the water jugs. Mellark waves at me, a grin splitting his stupid face. He's having a blast; Katniss finally has a break from fellowship and they couldn't wait to get out of the city and into the mountains. Madge hadn't ever been camping and I thought, why not?
I think we all needed to get to a higher elevation.
The kettle starts whistling (I've stopped asking why we have a whistling kettle for camping) and moments later I smell coffee. Katniss is loading up a plate and I watch Mellark sneak a quick kiss to her temple when he thinks I'm not watching. She tries hard not to smile, but her jaw just won't listen. I'm expecting news from them any day now, but I'm not even sure they'd tell anyone. I wouldn't be surprise if in a conversation one day it comes out they've been married for years and just not thought it was noteworthy. There's something about them...I don't know. Like marriage wouldn't even be a big step, just the next logical progression, like brushing your teeth after you wake up.
Sometimes you just move forward.
Lips on my earlobe interrupt my thoughts.
"Coffee?" she says.
"Coffee sounds amazing," I answer.
I love my life.
~Fin.
AN: I'm so so sad to say goodbye to this AU! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Sorry again that this last chapter was so serious, but then again…if anyone wants an epilogue, maybe I could make up for it…
Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, followed or favorited. You guys are the driving force (that and Gale's general stubbornness). I hope we'll meet again soon!
