They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.
It's a cruel lesson to learn, really.
Kim had kept true to her word and she had, in fact, helped us. She'd rung around, using her fluent Spanish and had found what was called an International School. I'd never heard of it and neither had Ethan but she had explained they were for foreign people who couldn't speak the language. Of course in Panem, such things were never needed.
It took maybe a week of sorting out the details before we enrolled Rye in the most junior class. We'd also painstakingly bought him the needed bag, uniform and stationary that took a hard hit to our bank balance.
I'd never been more grateful for people like Kim and Tom who were just genuinely in every possible way, lovely people.
That of course didn't exactly help the rest of our predicament. Every day Ethan went to work and every day I took Rye to school. But we were living frugally and it was becoming apparent that Ethan's one job wouldn't suffice even if he worked overtime. Rent was expensive, and we had the cheapest in the area, as was food even at the market. The need for money landed a lot of pressure on me, which in turn, morphed into several heated arguments.
Which is why I'm trailing through the city right now, frustrated, attempting to find any sort of job. Sounds easy. Problem is who will employ an 18 year old girl, with no qualifications and an inability to speak the language?
The answer is no one.
I walk down the street feeling like I might as well die in the thick, burning air. The heat beats down as I continue further down the street, studying the masses of people traveling this way and that, the lines of buildings up ahead, the mix of beggars and businessman on the paths. It was an interesting country. Like all the areas of Panem had been mashed into one place.
I hadn't ever been this far into the city before. Rye's school was a little bit out of the city and that was the furthest I'd been, but today out of desperation I had walked right to the heart. I was further than Kim's house and now reaching the really lively parts where houses stopped and buildings began.
I walked on, sweat forming a layer on my neck until I reached the cities innards. Buses and cars clogged the roads and people quickly flitted in between them. I saw something odd, a woman walking the path in some sort of ethnic clothes that did not belong here. I knew this was not how the natives dressed. I'm reminded of Kim's voice: "There are others. You're not the only one." How interesting.
However once I rounded the corner things became much more interesting. I stop on the sidewalk creating many grumbles from people around me. There is a walkway, or more a square, just off the road leading between buildings. Set up there is an array of people some in the open sun, some in little tents. But what strikes me is the display of artwork lining the streets where various people sit behind it. Canvas' are propped up on a rug, sketches laid out, and I see a woman working on an intricate yet brilliant drawing of chalk on the pavement which looks so real it plays tricks on my eyes. I see a man, wearing suit pants and shirt, briefcase in hand walk over to the woman and drop a few coins in an art case that lays open on the ground.
Huh.
I walk a few more paces down the pavement and stop again, quietly surveying the artists from afar. I'm captivated by their fluid movements. One is painting a new picture while various passersby scrutinize the finished pieces laid out. I see a man inquire about one. The painter sets down their paintbrush and speaks to the man. He nods and hands over a bill, the painter thanks the man and hands him the painting. He walks off with it in a paper bag continuing on his way. My mind is boggled.
Really this was similar to the market back home in 12 with people selling their own goods. But it's in this city, so much more sophisticated so much more poised, that I find it strange this happens. I watch as a shopper chats animatedly to another artist no sense of status evident between the two.
Was this the answer? I take the bench on the opposite side of the square and continue watching. I could paint, in fact my father always said I was very talented. He had taught me from when I was small and had always supplied my utensils. These people in the square appeared to have talent too. It had never occurred to me that this talent could earn income.
Could I do it? Could I display my art on the street in hopes of money? Somehow this seemed...pedestrian to me. I had always had rather prestigious thoughts of an occupation in later life, and my parents always pushed my grades. But what was I here? A young girl from Panem, non-Spanish speaking and unaccredited.
I watched the artists for an hour more exchanging friendly words with others. Here, they were accepted, but would I be? I was distinctly foreign just from appearance not even factoring in language. Would I be shunned?
I debated with myself until I got nowhere, and ended where I had started. And then I told myself I was being ridiculous because never before had I been afraid.
I sit in my place I claimed in the square. Four days had passed since my revelation. I had considered, to a great extent, not situating myself in the square. I felt intimidated by the other artists. But a quick walk around had shown this spot was really prime. The square was already filled. I sat a little away but still in vicinity of the others. My display was definitely less than theirs, although I felt the technique was much the same.
However I still felt they got the general attention. I busied myself in a new sketch so as not to let it bother me. I wanted to draw something more. I had displayed a variety of sketches I was quite proud of however I felt them…lacking. I had yet to buy the necessary paints to create a painting which was more my forte. We would need some more money before that. I'm sure that if Tom had heard of my dilemma he would immediately buy me paints however I wouldn't burden him or Kim.
I moved the pencil across the page with more care and precision than what I had done in the others. I altered the pressure and angle creating new textures and tones. I drew what I knew I could picture so vividly, what I missed and what I could effectively capture. I drew Lily Mellark, only what she would look like now 18 and here with me. I draw her eyes sparkling with life, a kindness present in the gentle crease of them just like they used to be a year ago. However I draw the planes of her face slightly slimmer, her features less rounded trying to account for time. Her black hair is out and flowing framing her face as a wisp cross her eye. Her lips are slightly parted, a small smirk on them as if she's seeing Adam. I fill her eyelashes and her brows and finish her slim neckline. A heavy feeling takes my heart.
"Bueno." A voice comes from above me and it continues in a flurry of Spanish. Ethan had shared with me a few phrases that he had picked up from working at the garage and that Tom had told him I might encounter. However none of these are what the man above me says. I pick out one word in his speech: talento.
I look up at him and he is staring at the picture of Lily in my hand. A little girl stands by his leg chattering quietly. He points raising his eyebrows. I'm at a loss of what he has said.
I draw a breath. "No hablo Espanol." I say poorly. Speak English, goddammit!
He says something else and frowns. Suddenly he shouts over to a woman studying some paintings at a place a few spots down. She comes over with a smile and speaks quickly with the man.
Her eyes fall on the drawing. "He says he think you very talented. And if you would draw picture of his daughter." I only just catch the words marred by her thick accent and broken English.
"Oh!" I exclaim looking at the little girl.
"Si?" The man says.
I'm nervous having to draw on cue but I take the chance. After all, money will come out of this. "Si." I nod.
I motion for the girl to sit down in front of me. She chatters with her dad while I try to capture her. I attempt to do what I did spontaneously with Lily. I focus on the life, the subtleties of the features that dictate age and emotion. I draw the crinkle by her eyes, the wisps of hair caught by the air. I zone out into the world my dad taught me to go to, the one were nothing else can bother you other than the pencil and the paper. In 10 minutes I've done it. Obviously it doesn't have the exact detail if I had an hour but I'm proud of the lifelikeness.
I ask the girl her name in Spanish and get her to spell it out. I scrawl it in the corner and date the picture. Her dad looks extremely pleased and asks, how much? A phrase I do actually recognize. I falter for a short moment before making up a price that is far, far cheaper than any other artist. I don't care, it's something and I'm sure they live much more expensive lifestyles than me. The man raises his eyebrows and hands over the coins and I give the drawing to his overjoyed daughter.
Right before they walk away he drops a note in the wooden pencil box I had left open. I look up but he has already turned away.
I walk into the apartment proudly with my art case in hand where the money is stored. I hear the gentle murmurs of Rye and Ethan through the door. I open it with a creak and walk over to the table where they both are sitting bent over some math books.
"Okay so 2 times 2 equals…"
"Hi Free!" Rye distracts himself as I walk through the apartment.
"Hey guys. Doing math I see?" I ask with a small smile.
"How did you go?" Ethan asks with a slightly worried face.
I grin and open my art case on the table. His eyebrows shoot up quickly.
"How much?" He asks as he touches the money lightly.
"Not a whole lot…but it was the first time. I think I have to become more known and then it will get better." I explain.
He raises his head with a smile that reaches his eyes. "Great job." He says as he hugs me.
This was an improvement from the other night when he, in an extremely tired state, told me it wouldn't work. I know now he's thinking more clearly and he actually does believe in me.
The night progresses with a lighter atmosphere than many other nights, the possibilities shining just within reach. Maybe we could do this.
However I felt a sense of dread creeping in every time I remember the picture of Lily. Why wasn't she here?
Tom called like usual, he does this at least every week, and I spoke to him for a short while exchanging stories and what not. He invited us over for dinner again, which wasn't really new since we also had dinner with them nearly every week.
Soon I put Rye to bed and Ethan and I got ready as well, drained from our day. He watches me as I rummage the wardrobe, the elation I felt early deflated. A persistent pain hammers my temple.
"I'm really proud of you." He finally says. I turn a little confused. "I didn't think you'd be able to get anything and now you can do what you love." He elaborates.
I nod and turn back to the wardrobe and finish slipping into my pajamas. My eyes are pricking and it makes me angry because I should be happy. But I'm not.
"You okay?" Aren't they the words of the year?
"Yes." I whisper and crawl into the bed. I can sense his eyes on me before he turn, slips of his shirt and into a pair of pajama pants, switches off the light and crawls in with me.
"You're not." He finally says after a heavy silence. I always liked how intuitive Ethan could be. "What's wrong?"
And then the dam bursts.
I cry.
Immediately I feel his bare arms wrap around me and I cry into him like many other nights. Like usual he strokes my hair until I calm down.
"I drew Lily today. And apparently it was so good that a man paid me to draw his daughter." I say shakily.
I can tell Ethan doesn't quite make the connection. "Free that's good…"
"I can't stop thinking about her! She should be here. Everyone should! We abandoned them."
There's a long drawn out silence. My head hurts fiercely. "Free we couldn't have done anything else. You even told me that once. They would want you- us- to be happy. Jake, Lily, Adam our parents. They would all want us to move on and be happy even if they're not here."
I know he is right. He's always right. But right now it's nearly impossible to believe that we are doing the right thing.
Days get both easier and harder. It's like I was in a constant state of confusion being pulled this way and that. It was easier in the sense that I was able to gain money along with Ethan. I was slowly becoming more popular and now drew portraits of people more often than anything else. I didn't see anyone else do this, not the lady with the chalk or the extremely alternative abstract painter, so I supposed that was in my favor.
What was still eating me was everyone in Panem. Every day the thoughts plagued me of where they were and what they were doing. Were they dead? That was very likely. Were they hurt? Even more likely. The headaches never went away.
Some days I didn't speak much. I still went out and did my thing because I wouldn't let my boys down but there were just some days where I became muted; too enveloped in my thoughts.
Tears coursed down my cheeks as the images took over me now. I clasped my head in my hands as I tried to fight it off. I could see everything; hear everything like I was back there. There was the good times mixed in with the bad however it all overwhelmed me in the same way.
I stumble to the bathroom Ethan and I share and turn the lock. He was picking Rye up from school today, I knew they'd be home soon. I'd packed up early from the city when it all became too much and my hands started shaking and a persistent pain came to my temple. If I'd stayed there any longer I would have started crying. How horrific.
I open the medicine cabinet to reveal the painkillers I'd learnt to buy at the chemist. Fortunately they were cheap. I knew Ethan wouldn't be happy which is why I bought them when he wasn't there. He knew we had them although I never told him how often I buy them. I don't think he understands.
I pop two in my mouth and wait the ten minutes before they begin to take effect. I sink down to the tiled floor by the bathtub with the bottle in my hands. Oh, I wish things were normal…I start when the door opens and I lift my head.
I never even knew the door didn't actually lock.
"What are you doing?" Ethan asks me from the doorway a frown marring his face.
I get up quickly and reopen the medicine cabinet. "Just thinking."
I hear him step closer before he snatches the bottle out of my hands. I turn around shocked. "What were you doing with these?" He asks, his voice rock hard.
"I had a headache." I tell him evenly.
His expression remains hard while he looks at me. "I've seen you taking these a lot Free. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself like this."
"I'm not doing that!" I yell back at him, my emotions wound far too tightly to deal with this.
"Yes you are!" He bites back. "And I care too much about you to let you do it. I'm taking these away. I think you need to see someone."
I know immediately what he is talking about. He wants me to see a shrink. "No way Ethan. That is way too expensive."
"Well I don't know what else to do Free!" He says exasperated. "Some days you're fine and some days you barely talk! I'm worried about you, you went through a lot."
"And you didn't?" I ask vehemently.
"It's different and you know it." He counters with a glare.
I'm sick of everything and I turn around to leave the bathroom. Brief flashes of memories mar my vision for a moment, a scream rings distantly. He grabs my arm to stop me.
"Let go." I tell him.
"No." He says. "We have to do something about this."
"About what?" I yell. "About how they're meant to be coming home? They're meant to come back and help us? Everyone we love is going to come back in one piece?"
"Keep your voice down." He hisses at me. He fills his lungs with air. "Free, be realistic okay? If this," he motions to the entire room, "is going to work, we have to move on."
"What do you think I'm trying-"
"Without drugs, without anything," He says. "We have to start over Free otherwise we're never going to get through it. And if that means seeing a psychiatrist then we will work for extra money and we will see a psychiatrist so we can actually function like a family. Hear me?" His voice isn't as harsh at the end, only pressing.
I don't answer but I think he can sense he's got through to me.
"We're going to Tom's in an hour." He says, "Let's put this all behind us and have a good night."
"So we've got some news and thought we should tell you guys." Tom says with a twinkle in his eye as we sit in his house for dinner. I'd tried my hardest to forget the afternoon. Forget everything really.
We were having pasta which was the only thing I ever really remember having with Tom and Kim. It suited all of us though and every time now Tom would come up with some new shape of pasta and some strange new sauce.
"What is it?" I ask with a smile. I glance over to Rye who is busy shoveling ravioli in his mouth unaware of the conversation.
"Well…we're going to be having a baby." Kim says with a huge grin on her face.
I nearly choke on my pasta. "Oh my god! Congratulations!" I squeal and get up to hug them both. Ethan does the same while I explain to Rye the news.
Once we're seated again Kim starts talking. "So I know you guys usually refuse this, but any time you need someone to watch Rye we're happy to do it. Really, it's good practice." She laughs. "He can even stay over if need be, we have a guest room."
She was right that we normally refused they're help with Rye. Not because we didn't trust them but really because we didn't want to burden them. But now Kim was pregnant I felt slightly less guilty.
"Thank you." I smile warmly and for once it doesn't feel so false.
We move onto other conversations, just chitter chatter really. Both Kim and Tom are extremely happy when I tell them I've been doing a lot of artwork. They've already seen some of my stuff back at the apartment.
And then jokingly, Tom broaches the moat awkward topic. "So you guys, met anyone out in the city?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively telling us he means a boyfriend or girlfriend.
There's a slight pause before Ethan chuckles and mumbles out a no nonchalantly.
I see Tom and Kim exchange a knowing look. "What?" I ask suspiciously.
Tom grins. "We're just waiting for you two to get together." He laughs and spears some ravioli with his fork.
Ethan and I both flounder and I don't think Tom realized the effect this would have on us. "We – no- that would never, um, happen." I stammer out while Ethan also tries to refute the comment.
Tom continues to smile good naturedly and I know he doesn't believe us. I want to wipe that smile off his face and tell him it would never happen.
The night progresses like any other night and we leave around 9, after a lovely dessert. Tom and Kim are always a breath of fresh air however the thought plagued me the entire night.
They were waiting for Ethan and me to get together.
How strange.
2 weeks later…
"No I won't do it!" Rye yells at me stomping his foot. This was the time I wish he wasn't my responsibility or I had taken Kim up on her offer to look after him.
I've had it. I've had enough. "I don't care what you want Rye you are going to do as I say! Now go and clean your room!"
"No." He pouts and crosses his arms. "I won't!"
I stride over to him. "Rye I am serious. Now go do as you're told."
I hear the door open from our room and I know Ethan is coming into the room since he can obviously hear things are not calming down.
"You can't tell me what to do! You're not mum!"
The words are literally like bullets penetrating through me. What I had been struggling with for weeks now was just said by a five year old. Rye is visibly angry and I know I am fuming.
"Fine." I say as I throw my hands up in the air. "I've had it." I stride over to our bedroom and tell Ethan to deal with him before slamming the door shut.
I collapse onto the bed in a heap of sobs while I can hear Ethan scold Rye. Ten minutes elapse before I hear the door open.
"I got him to do it."
I don't bother giving a response.
"Bad day?" He asks and sits down next to me on the bed.
"You could say that." I mutter my voice thick. He puts his arm around me and I lean into his body gratefully.
Even after everything that has gone wrong I'm glad he's here with me because I would have never have gotten this far without Ethan.
"I think we should get someone to talk to Rye." Ethan comes out with suddenly.
I stiffen slightly as I think it through. The other week when he had suggested seeing someone for my benefit we hadn't bothered with it. I tried to work through it all instead. Soon I realized that didn't actually help so I chose the easy way out. I refused to think about it. When I did I took the drugs. I threw out all the pictures I had drawn, painstakingly even Jake's. That one was one of the hardest, brought on the tears freely. But I needed a new start. I had to accept they were gone.
But the suggestion for Rye to see someone seemed a good idea. His behavior had deteriorated rapidly which I knew wasn't just a phase because I barely remembered my parents having to discipline him throughout all the years.
"Maybe we should." I assent the anger evident in my voice.
He brings me into a hug. "It'll be okay. We can do this." He says and kisses my cheek. I feel the electricity of his lips against my skin and lean in gratefully for the comfort hoping he was right.
4 weeks later…
It all started with a bar.
Or really the bar sparked the event. I suspect it started a long time ago here in this city of heat, passion and life.
A long, long time ago that no one was smart enough to admit. Fear left us paralyzed, the past left us immobile.
Until now.
That night brought forth all the repressed feelings and childhood fantasies. A new beginning of sorts.
"Ready?" Ethan calls out while I slide the last pin into my hair.
I walk out as an answer and I see his eyes widen just slightly. It gives me a great sense of satisfaction.
Kim had all but forced us to give her Rye for the night and to go out. The worry was evident in her voice about the two of us when she had told us we needed a night's break. I think she could tell we were near the breaking point.
She had lent me a dress as well which she said she couldn't wear anyway because of the baby. It was a simple black and white number, sleeveless and slim fitting. She also lent me heels and a clutch claiming I needed a bit of luxury.
All of this creates the look of awe in Ethan and I grin at him.
"Come on, we have to go."
We were headed to a bar in town that Tom recommended. We descend the stairs towards street level together and make our way into town.
"This is going to be nice for a change." Ethan smiles, grabbing my hand and swinging our arms. We did this all the time when we were little.
"Yes it is." I grin up at him even in my heels. We'd been going okay lately. I hadn't paid heed to Panem and it made the days much easier to get through. The painkillers were lessening. However we were both working long hours in between taking care of Rye which became really taxing.
We reach the bar in about twenty minutes which is a very quiet sort of place; subdued but with a few people playing pool in the corner and the others lounging around listening to the soft music being played by a singer and guitarist on the small stage.
Ethan orders the drinks because he knows more Spanish than I do although I am picking it up slowly from being out in the city. We take a seat near the back of the bar in a quiet spot for two.
I slowly sip my drink as Ethan eyes me. "How are you going?" He asks.
I think about it. "Okay." I say truthfully because lately everything really has felt okay.
He smiles. "Do you think we're finally getting the hang of this?" A playful smirk reaches his lips.
I chuckle and sigh. "I hope so Ethan. " I take a deep breath. "They're not coming." I state. It's not a question.
He gazes at me for a moment. "No." He says softly. "But we can move on." His eyes are penetrating me, the sea green so intense. A shiver runs up my spine.
"I guess we have to." It's the conclusion that's been tearing at me for weeks which I'd only come to lately. "Be happy." I say.
Suddenly a liveliness take his face and a mischievous grin forms. "We can do that right now." He calls over to a waitress and orders another round of drinks. I smile and think, yes, maybe I could be happy.
"To a new start!" He toasts.
I take a deep breath and do what I had been doing. Forget. "To a new start."
Two hours later and all inhibitions, fears, and worries are out the window. We're on our…what? 6th round? There's a buzz to my head that is extremely welcomed and the world no longer seems as threatening. In fact it's glowing.
"Okay, okay." I stammer out in my perpetual giggly state. "So this girl- what's her name?"
He laughs and looks at me sheepishly. "You don't know her name?" I say much too loudly.
"I was young…" He tries to defend himself.
"So you wake up at her house, in her bed with no recollection of how you got there?" I ask him with a huge grin. "Then what?"
"I ran." He laughs. "Left the house and went home and avoided all her calls. Then two days later my mum came home and said she had something to say to me. Apparently it was her friend's daughter who I slept and ran with…"
My mouth hangs open. "You're terrible! I bet Annie killed you."
"Pretty much. Dad sort of laughed it off but mum was furious."
I shake my head and down the remainders of my drink. I call the waiter and they bring another round.
"I bet you have awful stories too." He says his face flushed with alcohol. "The amount of guys you've dated…"
"Not as many as you." I counter.
"Go on I want to hear."
And the night goes on.
We stumble home at about 1am our arms linked to keep us both upright. We're laughing crazily and being much too loud but at the moment nothing else matters. We stumble up the steps and shush each other so we don't get beaten by Elena and then dissolve into a fit of giggles when Ethan can't get the key in the lock.
"Let me! Let me!" I say excitedly. Working the key for a good minute before the door swings in. "Ta da!" I squeal as I saunter in alongside Ethan.
He looks at me with glazed eyes. "That was a good night." A lopsided grin forms on his face.
"Mhmm." I mumble and head to the freezer. I find just the perfect thing, a tub of ice cream. I hold it up to him with my eye brows raised.
"Good thinking." He says and he walks over to where I perch myself on the counter. He leans close as I hold the tub of ice cream and I feel the heat emanate from him.
"Here." I whisper dipping the spoon in and holding it out to him. His eyes never leave mine as closes his mouth over the spoon, slowly drawing back. I dip it back in the tub and get myself a spoonful.
"Thanks for tonight." I say softly as I hold out another spoonful. There's electricity in the air as he watches me.
I get drawn in by his eyes all memories and uncertainties washed away with the alcohol. Tonight really is a clean slate. I brush his lip where a stray bit of ice cream sits and suddenly the room melts away as his lips reach into mine.
There's heat everywhere as his lips move with mine. I feel his hands in my hair and I wrap mine around his neck. The kisses are urgent and filled with passion as our lips attack each other's. The pent up emotions fly high into the air. I feel his mouth pry mine open and then our tongues are dancing.
He pulls me closer and I wrap my legs around his waist and he hoists me up as we continue to deepen the kiss. In all the frenzy I am surprised when my back hits the mattress of our bed however it only spurs me on. I can feel his entire body pressed against mine, the strong ripple and pull of the muscles, the smell of him. His hands move from my hair and travel lower and lower down my body and even in our hazy state I know what is coming. Consumed by need and desire and most of all passion I don't hold back as the night progresses with ecstasy well into the morning.
The morning brings a beautiful sun as I wake up and stretch, my limbs feeling like jelly. I have the first moment of confusion before last night comes flooding back and Ethan's arms tighten around me proving it was real. I can't help the small smile that creeps onto my face as I think about it.
Last night was the first time I let go. Of everything. All the emotions, expectations and the memories.
It feels…good. Amazing, really. I have a vague sense of guilt that I squash quickly as Ethan begins to stir. I turn to face him and look him in the eyes.
"Hey." He says with a crooked smile.
"Hey." I grin back. His eyes are probing me, questioning.
I answer in the best way possible, leaning over and locking his lips with mine.
"Well I could get used to this." He smiles his voice gruff.
"Don't run off this time." I joke.
There's that small probing sensation at the back of my head again that I can't quite interpret. I take it away and forget it all. Accept everything for what it is. And begin again.
Because in the end, who among us does not choose to be a little less right to be a little less lonely?
A/N: Don't kill me just yet! I really hoped you liked the chapter though :)
First question, who do you prefer?
Jake/Free OR Ethan/Free ? Let me know!
Also in this chapter I opened and closed with two different quotes that I really liked. The first is from Andy Warhol from his book The Philosophy of Andy Warhol. The last is from Robert Brault who I'm unfamiliar with but I stumbled across.
Lastly thanks again for all the lovely reviews and comments! I really appreciate it and I'm so happy that this story - which originally was just a random idea in my head- has come so far! Thank you everyone! Please review and let me know what you think!
