Peeta draws me anyway. He calls it "Miss Mockingjay" because you see the hope on my face when it shouldn't exist. Just like the song, the bird, and the Rebellion. I try not to encourage it, but Peeta can be just as stubborn as me.
Dinner that night is pea soup. I eat as much as I can, but my stomach is in knots. Peeta doesn't try to start a conversation. Even though Haymitch appeared better this morning, I know last night is still running through Peeta's mind.
"Are you working tomorrow?" I ask once my bowl is mostly clean. I pick at a roll that doesn't have butter on it yet.
"Yeah, there are a couple birthday cakes I have left to finish. And I gave Thom the week off." He explains. I nod.
"I'm going to go visit Haymitch again." I say. Half of me is glad that Peeta won't be there because I want our conversation to be private. But half of me is also scared that something will go wrong and he won't be there to help.
"Will you be okay there by yourself?" He voices my thoughts. "You won't drink or… or smoke? Do anything to hurt yourself or our baby?" I sigh. It's been a very long day. I don't even want to think about what my actions will be tomorrow.
"I'll be fine." I say wearily. Peeta pushes back his chair and gets up. He stands behind me, rubbing my shoulders, giving me a very relaxing and needed massage.
"I know you will be." He says, kissing the top of my head.
By the time we both go up to bed, I'm feeling better about the current situations. And Peeta is too, unless he's suddenly become some amazing actor. He lays a hand on my stomach.
"Goodnight baby," he murmurs, burying his face in my hair. I smile half-heartedly, glad he can't see it.
XX
I don't bother doing my hair up the next day. It's just Haymitch. He won't mind what I look like. I'm out the door before I have time to see Peeta, much less say anything to him. We'll both be too busy today to think of each other.
Just like yesterday, I don't knock when I get to Haymitch's. It seems like Winnow is back. Her shoes lay at the door and her coat hangs on a hook. I put my stuff next to hers and head to the living-room where I assume Haymitch still is. Winnow sits in a chair beside his couch.
"Oh, good morning, Katniss." She greets, almost dropping her knitting when she sees me.
"Hi, Winnow. Hey, Haymitch." I turn to the man on the couch who, if anything, looks weaker than he did yesterday. He slowly nods his head in a silent greeting. I shift nervously from foot to foot. Is he getting worse? Did he have another heart attack?
"I'll give you two some privacy." Winnow offers, picking up the yarn and half-finished sock. I take her seat, unsure of what to say. Haymitch finds his voice and fills the silence.
"I'm just coming off an anesthetic. I'll be fine in a minute." He explains groggily. I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans as I wait for him to speak again. When he does, his voice is quiet but still belongs to him. Today, it's comforting.
"How are you?" He asks.
"If you're talking about my fight with Peeta, it's over. We aren't fighting anymore." I reply. He nods, considering my words.
"Why did you come here?" His question catches me off guards. "Aside from wanting to know I was okay." He adds. I don't reply because I'm not sure if I can bring up this conversation yet. He takes my silence as denial. "I've known you for fifteen years, Katniss. I've seen you fight in two Hunger Games, and incite and lead a Rebellion. I know how you think. There's something on your mind." He pushes.
"Johanna," I blurt out before my brain can stop me. Haymitch shifts on the couch, trying to sit up. I give him my arm to prop himself up.
"Let's talk about that. Right now. No running away from it." He orders. I comply because I don't have much choice. For a minute, we both try to collect our thoughts.
"Why did she do it?" I ask first. It's the question that's been burning in my heart for weeks.
"She had to." Is his quick response.
"No, she didn't. She didn't have to leave us like that. She didn't have to abandon the people who loved her. There was always a choice for her!" I argue, getting suddenly defensive for no reason. Haymitch is patient for once.
"She didn't have anyone who loved her. We were all here, in 12, and no one in 7 wanted to get close to her. And when you don't have anyone to love or be loved by, your mind falls into some sort of depression. Johanna's not one to drink." He grumbles the last part. It reminds me that Haymitch has been through what Johanna dealt with.
"But… she didn't even try!" It's unfair of me to accuse her of not trying, but if Haymitch is still alive and (mostly) well, she should be too.
"She tried so hard. Almost got married, last I really heard from her. But the guy – biggest jerk ever – called it off because he didn't want to spend the rest of his live with her. That tears a person up inside." Tears come to both our eyes and I don't question how he know this. "When you don't remember what there is good in life, you lose your mind. She could have tried harder than you can imagine, but there's a point of no return. Understand?"
"I will," I reply. It's a lot to digest all at once.
"She was strong. Remember her that way." I feel almost like I'm being scolded. I let tears slide down my cheek.
"Like there's any other way to remember her." I admit. Haymitch reaches a hand over to pat my knee.
"I miss her, too." And then, I let myself really cry. There's nothing Haymitch can do to stop it. "I know…" he says.
"I'm sorry," I say amidst my tears. "She did what I could never do. She's done what I'm going through… and she's not even here to talk to." I sob.
"What do you mean? What are you going through?" Over his concern for me, his heart beats faster and I hear it on some machine.
"My pregnancy, Haymitch," I reassure him. He just gives me a quizzical look.
"Johanna doesn't have kids." He objects. I realize then that no one has told Haymitch about DeAnna. And maybe with his heart so unstable, I shouldn't be telling him now, but I do it anyway.
"She does." I start. "Peeta must not have told you. It was in the letter we got from Cordelia Morgane." The machine that tracks Haymitch's heart activity doesn't change, but Haymitch's face pales and he looks more confused than ever before.
"What's her name?" He asks.
"DeAnna. She's 12 years old." I reply, putting a hand on my stomach. Could my own child be 12 someday and be an orphan? Am I bringing a person into a world of suffering and depression?
"Write them back. I want to meet her." He orders of me.
"You aren't well enough, Haymitch." I say. He shrugs in response to this.
"Then be prepared for when I am." He yawns and I take this as an opportunity to let him rest. I stand to go. "Katniss," he says, making me stop and listen. "You aren't like Johanna. Nothing will ever make you leave your kids. At least not by choice." I nod, turning to leave again. I remember what Annie told me a month ago. Nothing you do for the safety of your child is wrong. If Johanna was sick enough to kill herself, then she was too sick to be looking after a little girl. In the end, I know Johanna did it for DeAnna, too.
I know from experience what it's like having a depressed mother. It was smart of Johanna to end it. She just saved DeAnna years of grief and neglect.
When I get home, I make a casserole for dinner and then eat a ham sandwich for lunch. Then I call the doctor to set up another appointment. I want to make sure the baby is healthy.
All of a sudden, I want to do everything I can to protect it and make it feel loved. I want it to be happy.
A/N Sorry this chapter has been a long time coming. Happy first year anniversary to this story!