Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the whole THG universe belongs to Suzanne Collins. I only borrowed her characters.
A/N: I have to thank yet again Mary for working her beta-ing magic and wonderful and awesomely talented Fremus for the revision and making suggestions! Also I appreciate all of your reviews, thank you so much! I have a bit of stuff coming up this week (birthday, presentation, yadda, yadda), so I don't have that much time to revise. I don't promise anything but I hope to have the next chapter up by next Tuesday.
Chapter 7
*Two weeks since James has been gone*
I kept reminding myself that it was the best thing for him, trying to acclimate to this new situation. But it obviously wasn't the best thing for me. I don't think I have ever felt worse in my entire life. No, I don't only think so but I know so. I know I wasn't this … indifferent to everybody and everything; nothing matters anymore. Life is … well, it just is. I run like clock work; I kept pretending.
Performances turned out to be the best and only way to distract me from my grief and hollowness. And since my eyes are no longer permanently red and swollen once the tears had finally stopped falling last week, I needn't quite so much makeup anymore. Ms. Trinket should be delighted, because she already huffed at the sudden increase of powder. Yet I had to admit that I had needed an unhealthy amount of it, though I did not care.
As I should have expected, the townsfolk started gossiping about my reasons, his reasons, Prim's reasons, and the when and the where. I overheard an insult from Mrs. Flickerman at Sae's not just once but twice. Another comment was from Mrs. Baker, saying she knew all along who the father was. I'm pretty sure she would have rubbed it in if that had been the case. But honestly, I couldn't care less about any Mrs. Flickerman or Baker. I noticed it, of course, but I no longer gave much care to my reputation, I only wanted to keep it intact before so that no one considered me a bad influence for James. So I gave them my best icy stare and bit my tongue to keep some of my crumpled dignity. I thought I might never be able to look in the mirror again if I let my temper get the best of me because of those two old snoops.
Rue was scrutinizing me with worry in her eyes again this morning, whereas Delly kept pretending that nothing had happened. I knew she knew. And she knew better than to ask me. It was pretty much walking on ice, avoiding this topic with me, though it was the only one I cared about currently. Sometimes I woke at night, startled, guilt creeping in, because I forgot to sing him his lullaby. Until I remembered. Afterwards I often lay awake for hours. I hardly slept a night through nowadays, fighting sleep deprivation now added to my daily duty.
Despite the incident in the alley and Mr. Mellark's interference, Mr. Stone had the nerve to send me flowers and fruits again. I gave the grapes to Delly, because I still simply couldn't stand to waste any kind of food – and I was neither hungry, nor wanted to accept any kind of gift from this man. I put the roses in the trashbin in the backyard myself as soon as I made my way out if the building. It was the only time when I felt a strange sort of contentment, the outlet for my subliminal anger was a short wake from my sadness.
Occasionally, I bought bread from Mr. Mellark. Since I only came when I expected there to be no other customers there, it was always just the two of us. The silence got awkward, unbearable. I think he came to know parts of what had happened. He always gave me that look, something in between concerned and sad, and I thought to see him struggle more than once about approaching me, judging by his twitching mouth and eyebrows. Just in case, I always shot him a glare in the hopes of keeping his mouth shut, and so far, it had worked.
I could have asked Rue to buy bread for the two of us, not that we needed that much anymore, but it was a chance to stay away from the house, to stay away from the empty shell that I used to call a home. But it was no longer a home; it was lifeless - it became a place to sleep despite all the memories it held for me, that haunted me.
Most of the bread we had I made Rue take to her family anyway before it could get a chance to mold. As I said, I could neither stand to let it go to waste yet had I appetite.
*One month since he's been gone*
Mr. Abernathy called me into his office. He was worried, he said. I was standing beside myself. When I excused myself lamely for my obvious bad performances – why else should I come to see him? – he negated it and reminded me to take better care of myself. I thanked him for his consideration, but insisted I was absolutely fine, earning me a disbelieving glance. He dismissed me by saying that he couldn't afford to lose his best actress. I should have been delighted, excited even to be praised by him, which was an absolute rarity -though judging by the smell in his office it was given under a certain amount of white liquor. I didn't feel one bit proud. Instead I just walked out of it, trying to make sense of why he was telling me something that was so unlike him, of what could I do to hide my feelings better.
My mood improved at the prospect of seeing James until three days before my first visit should have been. Because that was the day I received a letter from Mr. Bukowski, saying this Thursday would be very inconvenient, and if I would like to come and see him next week instead. I agreed. Naturally. I wasn't happy about the delay, but I hardly had a choice, and it was only one week, I kept telling myself; I could do that. It was no longer my decision who James got to meet and when. It hurt to admit to myself that I wasn't an important part of his life anymore. I was to be the aunt he would see every once in a while if I was lucky. No more, no less.
The house felt empty and I hated returning home more and more each day. It was only stage leading another person's life where I was alive thus I concentrated on my singing and acting even more. Taking extra lessons that I didn't need and Abernathy let me do this despite Miss Trinket's advice that some people would also be happy to spend some time with Mr. Heavensbee. So I have heard. From Delly, of course. One of the few lines that actually caught my attention in her constant chatter that became a background noise to me. She was also thrilled to get all the grapes and peaches Mr. Stone had sent me. I have been feeding the trashbin repeatedly with bouquets of roses for my own satisfaction.
Ms. Trinket fussed at me because my clothes began to hang more loosely around my breast and waist and she would not be pleased to let them alter since I already had a petite form that most of my fellow cast couldn't fit into if the costume was to be used for some other play. Or by someone else, but she was too polite to say that.
Mr. Mellark hasn't been at the theatre since. I know I shouldn't care, but it hasn't gone unnoticed by Delly.
*One month and two weeks since he's been gone*
I finally got to see my little one. Seeing the joy in his eyes once he spotted me was the best moment in these past weeks, causing tears to form in my eyes. But the way he came up to me was rather timid, making me feel unimportant just a moment later as I had put all my love into our embrace and what I got was stiffening. His whole demeanor had changed; he was quieter and calmer as if he's shying away from me. He cannot have forgotten about me yet, I see it in his eyes, but there's also something hesitant I could not place. I have never seen him like this before and it worries me. Also the side glances he threw to Mrs. Bukowski who sat in a corner knitting and keeping an eye on us like a hawk. I wished I was alone with him. I knew I had no right to that, that I should be thankful I was allowed to be here.
I had expected more, not this cautious manner; I knew it couldn't have been as usual, but more than few words. Yes, I had expected a real hug and I did not get any. Disappointment washed through me.
For about two hours we played in the back with his building bricks (more like I tried to play and he sat by me) until Mrs. Bukowski decided it was enough and basically ushered me out in what she thought must be a polite manner when it actually wasn't. James had tears in his eyes when I had to leave and finally clung to me, a hug which selfishly filled me with joy, which consoled me, which made it worth the wait.
It was me who picked him up to soothe him. She was not even trying, nor did she attempt to coo, she only pursed her lips and stared at the both of us. I told him everything was fine and that I was coming back soon to see him. Warmth and dampness spread through my blouse at my collarbone as I rocked him forth and back until I had no longer an excuse as he had calmed. I finally handed him over to Mrs. Bukowski. I had to. The icy glare she gave me could equal one of mine, but I was unimpressed by it.
I tried to behave as respectfully as I could but this lady made this really hard, I didn't like her. Mr. Bukowski was polite by any means, but she was another story. I could not help myself but compare her to a witch in the fairytales in one of the books that were still untouched in James' room back home.
*Two months since he's been gone*
The idea to go to church to catch a glimpse of him during the service struck me to still my longing. He wasn't there that week. Nor the week after. I left disappointed, not bothering to come back the week after receiving a letter from Mr. Bukowski basically asking me not to do that again to not confuse James with my presence. I suspected his wife to have made him write that but of course I could not prove it.
After I received another letter asking to postpone my granted monthly meeting again, I got suspicious. Were they trying to kick me out of his life in the long run, delaying one appointment after another until I was fed up with it and eventually gave up? They did not do me justice, perhaps they weren't acquainted with the fact that I was not only known for my unusual way of living but also for my stubbornness if I set my mind on something. And my nephew and his well-being happened to be one of those somethings. Meeting him was what currently kept me going.
*Two months and three weeks since he's been gone*
Mr. Mellark was at the play today and dared to smile at me visibly for everyone on stage to see, so that a cheery Delly began to make hints about it afterwards. She seemed to fancy the idea of me and him, even though she should know better about this one also. At least, her mind was regularly busy about Thom-this and Thom-that so I was lucky that it wouldn't last very long until she shared that with me again.
One of the perks of not having Johanna with me anymore. Though I began to miss her -which I would never publicly admit. As much as I liked Delly and as much as I had hated Johanna pestering me with my "admirers" as she used to call them, sometimes I think I can endure her loose tongue and way to see things easier than Delly's sweetness, especially since then.
I knew she tried to show compassion, but reminding me of my misery wasn't going to do that. It got easier going home, but being there still wasn't any more pleasant than it has been before.
*Three months since he's been gone*
I received another letter and I knew even before I opened it what was asked of me. Sadness and longing turned into frustration. That was the last straw. I was so close to stomping over there and demanding to see him, but fortunately Rue had been home and talked some sense into me. Something I definitely needed -she was right of course, it wouldn't help my case, if I annoyed either of them, most likely Mrs. Josephine Bukowski - oh how much I began to despise her!
By what Mrs. Flickerman was just telling one of the other customer's at Sae's purposely for me to hear, Mrs. Bukowski was absolutely doing fine, James wouldn't be as wild as he had been with me, yes, he had shown manners when she had met them, and she was seriously considering letting him play with her own boy. And then she had the nerve to bid me sweetly goodbye when she left the store.
"Don't let it get to you, girl", Sae tried to calm me and gave me a reassuring smile. Some of her teeth were missing which made it more a grimace. We knew each other since forever; I guessed even when I would be forty, she would still call me girl until the end of her days. I tried a half-smile in attempt to show her that this wasn't the case, but who was I to fool anyone nowadays? The truth is the insults adding up got under my skin.
My anger hadn't left me when I left my house the second time at noon to buy bread for the weekend and the look Mr. Mellark gave me wasn't making anything better. In my anger, I was even less up for pity than under normal circumstances. Despite my sour attire, he managed a convincingly genuine smile towards me. Somehow, this was even harder to endure.
"What can I do for you today, Miss Everdeen?"
"The usual, please, Mr. Mellark." I tried to keep conversation as short as possible, I certainly did not feel like talking and I was not sure if, at the current point (if triggered) my anger wasn't going in the wrong direction -which was something Mr. Mellark clearly did not deserve- though I might be glad if he stopped smiling at me; it just was wrong.
"I don't want to sound intrusive, but is everything okay, Miss Everdeen?" I noticed how he tried to be casual, but the sympathy was lingering underneath. I drew a deep, calming breath before I answered.
"Mr. Mellark, I appreciate your concern, but I am afraid there is nothing I wish to talk about." The thoughtful expression on his face and the gnawing on his bottom lip –still with a small smile lying underneath - told me he wouldn't let go and I was proven right. I silently begged for the bell above the door to chime, but of course no one but me would do their purchases at noon. I asked myself if it had been preferable to tolerate someone else's gossip or insults towards me at another time of the day over being alone with Mr. Mellark like just now.
"Miss Everdeen, I know it is inappropriate for me to ask, but from what I hear, I just want to say, if you need anyone to talk, I'll be there." His tone was almost soothing, but exactly this was the last drop in the bucket.
"From what you heard, do you think that complaining about it to someone I barely know is my major priority right now?", I snapped before I could help myself.
"I suppose not", he answered calmly, seemingly unimpressed by my tone, but before I could give a response, he went on: "But I thought that you might like to talk about it to get it off your chest. No offense, but you seem to me like you might need it." To say I was a bit embarrassed inwardly was an understatement. The worst thing about that was that both of us knew he was right and there was no sense in denying the obvious. Still. But I couldn't see myself defeated like that; this was one of those occasions that I already knew while speaking that I was making a mistake and regretted them silently at the same time.
"And what makes you think that I should talk to you of all people?" As soon as the words were out, I felt calmer, less controlled by my emotions as reason and guilt began settling in.
His new tone was impressive. I could tell he was able to contain his anger far better than I was, when he pressed through gritted teeth: "I'm sorry, I think I have mistaken you." He silently handed me the bread and accepted the money with the same stoic face.
"It is everything but easy, Mr. Mellark" I admitted hesitantly; now that my fire was gone I saw myself cornered into offering an explanation for being the way I was, if I wanted to stay on good terms with him. Somehow I trusted him enough that he would not use it against me; he had always been nice to me, though everything inside called me a fool to talk so openly, to behave so unlike my nature. My mood and my situation were not his fault, so I found myself in an equal sense of guilt and will to tell him, to get it off my chest, as he had nicely phrased it.
"Before, I had a profession and a nephew to take care of, now I'm not needed anymore. I'm replaceable in all of my roles, James has a new family which I hear he is very happy with. I am obviously not wished to be a part of and I believe there is not much that can be done about that since I have to bow to his parents' wishes. You have no idea, I feel so useless. And I never thought it possible to miss him so much." Why did I think finally speaking it out aloud would make me feel any better? For one, it was none of Mr. Mellark's business and secondly, if anything it just made me more self-conscious. And vulnerable. To him.
Mr. Mellark frowned at my words.
"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my temper. Good-bye, Mr. Mellark." What was I thinking telling him that? I couldn't take back my words, but I had to be strong. I straightened my shoulders and turned to leave.
"I think I know what you mean", he mumbled to my back. I faced him again.
"You do?" I could hardly contain my surprise, but I had to admit that there were only few things that I knew about him for a fact and some that I assumed like that he must have had this bad leg for a long time, since he seemed to be able to cover its stiffness to a certain degree. And that he must be kind of well-off, to be able to buy a shop and the equipment at his young age plus the unusual circumstance that he as a baker was invited to Delly's party. It seems I have noticed more about him than I originally thought. The realization stunned me.
"To be considered physically imperfect goes along with being considered incapable for a lot of other things to many people." He didn't say "including you", but nonetheless I was immediately reminded of Delly's birthday party when I accidentally insulted him and his deadpan face afterwards. It seems there was much more to know about him than I ever acknowledged and here I was in the bakery and still he tried to help me.
The conversation we just had, good Lord, had I been blinded by my anger?
"I'm sorry that I made you feel this way", I apologized. He shrugged dismissively. No, I didn't want to leave it like that. "Let me make this clear. I don't think you are 'incapable', Mr. Mellark. You are just different from anyone else." It made him snort in bitterness and I hurried to go on: "Different doesn't mean bad in any way. In case you haven't noticed, you are one of the few people who never judged me for James, whereas most assumed he was mine born out of wedlock and treated me like some outcast. Even people who know he is my sister's son behaved like that. You never did, and I am very grateful for that. In that respect, you have been nothing but a gentleman." Now that I spoke it aloud, I became truly aware of how much I had silently appreciated it.
The hostility leaving softened his features, but since he still seemed unconvinced, I added: "No, Mr. Mellark, I mean it. It's not my place to ask about the details but whoever made you believe this is utterly wrong. Despite what you seem to think, you are different in a very positive way and I should consider myself happy to be of your acquaintance." That was probably the most coherent speech I had had in a while and the least born out of sadness, anger or something alike but of pure reason.
"From what I have seen, James looked happier with you." To hear that was some balm for my soul, more than I cared to admit.
"Thank you." He looked indecisive before he eventually spoke again.
"I am invited to a party at a friend's next Sunday. Would you … would you do me the honour of accompanying me?" A hopeful tune was in his words and I didn't really know what to think about it, about the change in topic, about everything.
"I'm not convinced that is a good idea", I replied truthfully and hoped he would get the hint. He had sounded hesitant and to be honest, if it hadn't been for our misunderstanding I would have declined straight away. Even if he meant it nicely, I did not want him to get too close; it just did not work for me. People that meant the world to me always left. Papa and consequently mama, then Prim, now James, and I see where this last one had gotten me.
I was not embarrassed to be seen with him in general, but because of what people might think about that, especially Mrs. Gregory Bukowski. The whole situation had overstrained my nerves, my changes in mood had just proven that, and I wasn't sure if I could face this kind of gossip it was for sure to create.
"As a friend, I mean?"
"As a friend, that is", I agreed, because after all, I still felt some kind of guilt, like I owed him and to make amends for my misbehavior. And I was still not sure if I should like my choice.
