On the day Gale leaves, we go to the train station to say goodbye. The weather is milder now and I'm glad it's raining because it hides the fact that I'm crying as Gale gets on the train. Peeta hooks his arm into mine.
"Let's go home, okay?" he suggests, gently leading the way. I lean my head on his arm, feeling an overwhelming sense of change right then. It's difficult to explain, but I'm sure it has everything to do with the lack of Gale and future increase of Mellark in District 12. By the time we get home, I'm shaking with cold and fear. The same questions that haunted me the day I found out I was pregnant race through my mind. How can I raise a child? What if things aren't safe? What if they don't want to be born? Peeta hangs my coat up for me and offers to run a warm bath for me. I decline, although it's sweet of him.
"Then let me make you lunch before I go to work," he cups my chin in his hand to kiss me. "It's the least I can do."
"Sure, thanks," I smile and give him another kiss before I go sit down in the living room. The thing is it's certainly not the least he could do. The least he could do is give me a hug, tell me to rest, and go to the bakery. That's not Peeta, though. You could ask him for a piece of bacon and he'd buy you the farm because that's the 'least he can do.'
I flip through a magazine my mother's left while Peeta cooks. It's filled with casserole recipes and knitting patterns. It makes me feel queasy. When Peeta comes in with grilled cheese and vegetables, he rubs my back lightly.
"You don't look so good, Katniss," he says concernedly. I shrug and take a huge bite to reassure him.
"I'm just hungry," I explain between bread and gooey mozzarella cheese. He doesn't seem to buy it. The look on his face screams skepticism, but I do my best to ignore it.
"Do you want me to call your mom or Erin or someone to stay with you while I'm at work?" he returns to rubbing my back.
"Peeta, I'm pregnant. Not made of glass," I argue.
"What if you're sick?" the crease on his forehead deepens.
"Then I'll be sick. I've been sick before, you know," it would be nice to have some company while he's gone, however I'm too stubborn to admit that now. Peeta kisses my cheek and then strokes it with his thumb. I relax into his hand. "I don't want you to go," I whine. He chuckles softly, leaning back on the couch.
"That's a different opinion than you had two days ago," he teases. I set the half-eaten grilled cheese on the coffee table and lean back with him. My head rests comfortably over his shoulder. Peeta tucks my head under his chin and wraps an arm around me. "I'll stay a little longer," he gives in. I nuzzle his neck and kiss him there. All I want is for the strange feeling in my stomach to go away. It's like butterflies have taken over and are trying to fly out my throat.
"Are you still scared, Peeta?" I ask quietly, almost hoping he doesn't hear. Of course he does, though.
"I was never scared. I was just overwhelmed suddenly," his voice is calm and casual. I know he's rehearsed this answer to make it the most reassuring. "But I'm not overwhelmed anymore either. I'm so excited," I sit up a little so I can give him a proper kiss. He smiles under my lips but pulls away first. "Are you scared?"
"Yes," I say before my brain can catch up to my mouth. Peeta's beautiful blue eyes widen slightly. "Well, I'm scared of something going wrong. I'm not scared to be a mother," I attempt to fix what I've said.
"Katniss…" Peeta sighs and rests a big, warm hand on my swelling stomach. "You can't be scared. You have to be strong. I won't let anything happen to our baby. I promise," at this, I lean forward into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I start to cry for no good reason. His strong arms envelope me, holding me tight to his chest. I can feel his heart through his shirt, beating steadily. He whispers in my ear that everything will be okay, he's right here, and he loves me.
After a minute, he gently lifts my face up so he can wipe away the tears and pepper me with kisses. I stop myself from crying anymore. I don't like how weepy I've become, but I know Peeta understands that it's just the hormones.
"Do I need to stay home this afternoon?" he asks quietly. I shake my head, my braid coming loose. "Okay, well, I'll bring you home a treat tonight," he promises. This time, I nod and smile. I get up so he can get his coat and boots on. "I love you, Katniss," he gives me one last kiss before he heads out in the snow and rain. I watch him jog down the street from the window.
"I love you, too, Peeta," I murmur to myself before reaching for the phone in the living room. He's been gone for thirty seconds and I already feel lonely. I call Erin because I know she'll be home. I don't want to talk about tuna casserole with my mother; I just want innocence.
"Hello?" her voice is joined by static because their phone is an older model.
"Hey, it's Katniss. Do you want to come over?" I feel like a 16-year-old. "Peeta went to work," I justify myself for my own sake.
"Yeah, of course. I'll be there in five minutes!" Erin excitedly replies. I agree with this and she hangs up. I sit on the couch to finish the lunch Peeta made me. Suddenly, five minutes seems like an eternity. The butterflies start to feel worse, making me wonder if I'm going to throw up or not. I decide not to eat the crusts on my sandwich, throwing them outside for birds to eat. I'm hugging my stomach when Erin knocks and lets herself in.
"Hello…?" she calls, and I hear her stamping wet snow off her boots.
"I'm in here!" I yell back, choosing not to stand and possibly throw up. Erin comes in, all smiles, her cheeks rosy red from the cold. She sits and gives me a quick hug, her cold cheek presses against mine. "Was it raining out?" I ask when she pulls back. I reach out to feel how wet her hair is. Sure enough, there are droplets of water covering her hair.
"Only a little," she starts to gather her hair in a ponytail when I stop her.
"Wait! I'll braid it for you," I suggest. The look of pure elation on her face makes me forget about being scared or sick. Quickly, she sits on the floor in front of me. I start to section her hair like my mother did for me all those years ago. I'm slow because I haven't done this to another person since Prim. Erin doesn't mind. She sits with her knees tucked under her chin, telling me all about school and her family.
"Erin, can you tell me something?" I ask, a thought suddenly coming to me. She nods and I pause in braiding to ask her. "When do they start teaching you the Hunger Games at school?"
"Well, they mention it briefly in every History class. But they don't actually teach it until third grade," she replies. I breathe a sigh of relief. That's a long way away. Peeta and I have plenty of time to figure out answers to the inevitable questions. And we'll certainly have time to tell our son or daughter on our own time, not according to school.
"Okay, well, I guess that's good," I smile and finish off the braid, draping the tail of it over her shoulder. "There. Perfect."
"Thank you so much, Katniss!" Erin stands and checks it out in the small mirror on the mantel.
"Yeah, no prob –" suddenly, something happens in my stomach. My hand clamps down over it. Am I going to be sick? But it felt too painful to be nausea.
"Katniss? Are you okay?" Erin returns to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder when I feel it happen again. The butterflies have turned into birds, desperately wanting out. Gently, Erin moves my hand away and lays her hand there instead, feeling on the outside what I'm feeling on the inside. It happens for a third time and I whimper in fear. However, Erin smiles. "It's kicking, Katniss!" she exclaims, her smile growing.
"Call my mother, please," I beg, leaning back on the couch. Erin grabs the phone and dials the number I tell her. I barely register voices as I lose myself in my own head. It's hard to describe, but I'm scared. This is all so unfamiliar, almost unnatural. I can't do it. I want this baby out. I want everything to be okay. When Erin returns to my side, she brings a glass of water with her. I'm too shocked to drink. I want to cry and scream, but that's not an option.
"Are you excited?" Erin asks optimistically. I shake my head.
"I'm terrified," my voice does not sound like my own. It's quiet and reluctant. Erin takes to rubbing my back calmly. I half-wish my mother wasn't on her way. I want to be alone and yet I can't be at the same time.
The next few minutes are silent until two things happen at once: the front door flies open, and the baby decides to kick in a new place. I lean forward, my mouth open in shock.
"Katniss, I heard it moved! Katniss, honey, what's wrong?" Peeta has come barging into the house, out of breath with his coat still on. He kneels in front of me; his large hands cover my stomach, hoping to feel a kick or a punch.
"No, Peeta, I want it to stop!" I yell, pushing his hands away from me. He frowns and looks deeply confused.
"Erin, will you give us a moment?" he asks her, taking her spot beside me on the couch when she gets up and goes to the kitchen. "What's wrong, Katniss? Talk to me," Peeta's voice is calm and relaxing.
"I don't like it. Make it stop," I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. He kisses my temple.
"It's a sign that the baby's healthy. We want it to kick and move around. Why don't you like it?" Once again, Peeta's patience impresses me.
"I don't know. I just don't. I never wanted to have kids."
"Even still? You don't want this baby?" Peeta's voice sounds absolutely heart-broken. I shake my head.
"I do, I really do! But it… it's…" I can't even articulate it to him, my best friend and husband.
"It's too real, too soon?" he fills in, using Haymitch's reasoning for Peeta's latest attack. I nod slowly. "That's okay to feel that way," he gently pulls me back so we can relax together. One hand pulls at the elastic in my hair so he can play with it, the other rests on my stomach, waiting for the next sign of life. "You just have to relax, okay. Make a list of things you're grateful for," he advises.
"Okay," I reply, immediately putting Peeta at the top of this mental list. The baby kicks again and I bite my lip. Peeta gasps and smiles at me in absolute joy. I find myself being smothered with kisses. He even kisses where our baby had moved.
"I love you both so much," he whispers.
"We love you, too," I say back and lean towards him for a long kiss. Erin interrupts us with tea, excusing herself to go home and start making dinner.
"Thanks Erin. See you later," Peeta says to her, smiling warmly.
"Peeta?" I say when the door closes.
"Yes?" he keeps playing with my hair, twirling it in his fingers while I talk.
"How did you know it was moving?
"Your mom called the bakery to tell me. I ran here as fast as I could," he smiles and pecks my cheek.
"Why didn't my mother come over?" I ask, not really expecting Peeta to know.
"She said this was our moment, not hers," I nod and yawn at the same time. "Let's go sleep, okay?" Peeta stands and pulls me up to go upstairs. "I'll make dinner tonight. Just for you," I'm too tired to argue that I can do it. Peeta tucks me into bed and kisses my forehead.
"Peeta, I want you to stay," I repeat my request from earlier, clinging to his hand.
"I can't, honey. But I promise everything will be okay."
And I honestly believe it will be.