Author's Note:
Now that the school year is winding down, updates will be a little more regular over the summer with the story very possibly wrapping up completely in the early fall.
This is short, but the next chapter (as I'm sure you will be able to tell from the tone of this interlude) will lead into Bow's birth so hopefully that's exciting enough to bring you back for the next update!
Happy reading…
Madam Beth
Interlude 11
Through all the things my eyes have seen,
The best by far is you
"Cecilia and the Satellite"- Andrew McMahon
"NO DADDY DON'T LOOK!"
You'd think after everything I've been through in life that I wouldn't take being shrieked at by a little girl whose head reaches no higher than my hip lying down, but when I open the door to my art studio (emphasis on the my) and Bow screams at a decibel I'm almost certain only dogs can hear for me not to look at whatever she's working on, I immediately back out of the room and pull the door nearly closed.
"Sorry! Sorry…" I stutter and push the door open just a smidge more so that I can stick my nose and one eye into the room. "…what are you working on, baby? Something for my birthday?" I ask in the same voice Bow uses when pressing her 'Auntie Johanna' for information concerning presents she and Uncle Jaxson have brought with them on their twice-a-year visits to see us.
"DADD-Y!" She squeals, exasperated, and I pull the door slightly closed again with a grin.
Bow is never more her mother than when she stubbornly sets her mind to something and I take a moment to commit my sentimentality over this moment to memory for when she is older and this particular personality trait leaves me and Katniss as the exasperated ones.
"Okay, okay…sheesh!" I say as she pulls open the door just enough to slip out into the hall with me and folds her arms over an old button down shirt of mine that she's wearing as a smock which fits her like a dress.
Her hair is in a messy bun and there are streaks of pain on her head, cheeks and neck. She looks so damn cute that I have to resist the urge to ask her to stand still while I run and get the sketchpad from my bedside table and do a quick pencil drawing of her right now.
"No art stuff until your birthday is over." She announces with a decisive nod. I have to stifle a laugh because she is using the same tone Katniss uses to tell her and Finn that they can't have dessert until they are finished their main meal first.
"Is that so?" I ask and fold my arms the same way across my chest. "And why may I ask do I have to refrain from painting in my art studio in my house for…" I do a quick calculation and realize with a hint of panicky vanity that the last year of my thirties will begin in less than 2 days. "…the next 2 days?"
Bow's shoulders slump when she realizes I'm not going to give in immediately and she pouts out her bottom lip. I watch eyes the same exact color blue as mine widen inside a tiny copy of Katniss's face in front of me and know that I'm a goner.
She seals the deal by dashing forward to wrap her little arms as far around my waist as she can reach and mumbling sadly against my stomach,
"Because I will be so, so, so, so, so, so, soooooo sad if you see your present from me before then!" she laments with a dramatic flair that can only have been learned from years of visits with the always animated Effie Trinket. I smile thinking of all the people who have influenced the young lady my daughter is quickly becoming and pet her hair, giving the little bob of her bun a flick with my fingertips.
If turning 39 in a few days wasn't already making me feel old, listening to my daughter present a pretty convincing argument for keeping me out of my sanctum sanctorum certainly is.
I sigh dramatically back at her and reach down to catch her under her arms and then lift her with a groan into my own which is one of the few places she still feels small to me. I frown playfully and press my forehead to hers while she gives me the same frown right back. We both break out in laughter though when I suddenly cross my eyes as we're looking right into each other's and Bow leans back to look at my face as her chuckles die down.
"Promise?" She asks and I roll my eyes to the ceiling as if I have to really, really think it over.
"Well, I guess I can try, but you should know your brother has already given me his birthday present…" I say dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper and looking up and down the hall quickly.
Bow looks momentarily outraged and then narrows her eyes at me. "He did?!" She asks, appalled and then in a suspicious tone asks, "What did he give you then?" and threads the fingers of both hands together behind my neck as if trying to keep my head anchored towards her, providing her with my undivided attention as her interrogation begins.
"Oh, all sorts of things…" I say trying not to laugh as I think of my son who has been certain every morning for the last 3 days that we've finally gotten to the day my birthday and has been screaming "happy birthday!" in my face as a rather unpleasant means of waking me up. As part of this daily adoration, he's been bringing me just about everything he owns from stuffed toys to companionless socks and insisting that they are my presents.
When I share this with Bow she rolls her eyes back at me.
"Those aren't his REAL present to you, silly, he's just doing that because he doesn't understand birthdays yet." She says nodding sagely. "That's just baby stuff."
The knife of my daughter's budding maturity twists once more in my heart and I bring one hand up from where I've had them folded together under her bottom holding her up in my arms so that I can lightly tap the tip of her nose.
A sudden memory flashes through my mind before I can properly categorize it as a 'good' memory or a 'bad' memory and my muscles tighten instinctively, prepared to protect not only my own psyche, but more importantly, the child in my arms if it ends up in the 'bad' column.
Luckily for both Bow and I, it is a good memory and my muscles relax as a vision of touching a tinier infant nose in the very same way the first time I ever held her, causes an aching desire in my chest for my daughter to stay small forever.
In this memory of my first meeting with my daughter, the action had drawn her unfocused, newborn eyes upward, startled by my hand which could have covered her entire beautiful wrinkled red face, and caused her to look rather irately up into mine with almost exactly Katniss's 'Do not disturb' expression.
I'd known in that very moment that if I'd been extremely lucky to been able to fall in love with Katniss twice, once before my hijacking and once after, then I must have been the luckiest bastard alive to be given the gift of falling in love for a third time the moment the crabby little glare of my first child had settled on me.
"Baby stuff, huh?" I ask and trace a little smear of orange paint on her cheek which gives me a clue as to what she might be painting for me.
"You know you're still my baby even though you're a big girl now, right?" I ask and Bow's cheeks pink as she shifts in my arms slightly, her fickleness when it comes to dealing with emotions yet another trait she's inherited from my wife.
"Uh huh…" She grumbles shyly and squirms down out of my arms. "Just don't go in there until after your birthday, okay?" Bow asks and puts a hand on the doorknob possessively before cutting me one last warning look and skipping off down the hallway to wash up for dinner.
"Yes, ma'am." I whisper, scratching the back of my head as I wonder where the last six years have gone. I'm listening to the distant rush of water in the sink as she washes her hands when I suddenly hear a little voice coming from the doorway to Finn's bedroom and turn my head towards it.
My son, who I had left alone in his bedroom while going to the art studio door to tell Bow that dinner was ready, is holding up a moldy crust of bread which he must have found at the very bottom of his toy box since the contents of said toy box are scattered all over his bedroom floor.
"Happy birf-day!" He squeals thrusting his latest 'present' higher over his head towards me, probably assuming I haven't seen it since I'm not yet tripping over myself to get to it like he expects.
I drop my chin to my chest for a moment and sigh. I can't remember if Bow was this exhausting as a toddler or if it's just the fact that I'm older that makes it seem so. When I lift my head and see the smile on Finn's face, as bright and proud as every time this week that he's brought something to me declaring that it's a present for my birthday, I have to scoop him up into my arms.
Even with the stale odor of moldy bread between us as he clutches it in one little fat fist against my chest, I soak up the unconditional love coming off of my son in waves as his other hand grips my shirt on one shoulder and he snuggles his curly blonde head against my throat.
Almost instantly, it's like the sadness of Bow growing up and the anxiety of turning thirty-nine in a few days has disappeared with the warm weight of my son, who always seems to know when I need a little extra love, in my arms.
As happy as I am to have Bow and the strength she's already showing in the early stages of learning what her mother and I meant to our country, I feel just as fortunate to have Finn with his blissful ignorance of all things bad in the world and the easy way he loves his family and friends with his whole heart.
"Thank you, buddy." I whisper and Finn lets go of my shoulder in favor of reaching up to grab my left ear, a familiar action from his infant years and I smile, no longer sure whether it is more a comfort for him or for me.
I cuddle him closer and slip a hand under his t-shirt to run my fingertips up the column of his spine, counting the evenly spaced little bumps under his super soft skin as I go. Finn hikes himself up into my arms a little higher and I can't resist sucking in a lungful of the 'baby smell' that has just recently begun to fade from my son. Abruptly, I feel that aging sensation sneaking up on me again as I realize my baby boy isn't such a baby anymore.
"Wel-kim." Finn whispers and then lifts his head to look into my face as he uses those same powers of compassion to pick up on my mood in the way he has always been able to like no one else.
I see so much of my father in my little son that it on one hand comforts me to know a part of him lives on in my children, particularly in my son who will carry on the Mellark name, and on the other, leaves me stricken to think my babies will never get to know him or the other members of my immediate family who perished when 12 was bombed after the Quarter Quell rebellion.
Since Bow and Finn came along I have had the happiest years of my life yet with them and with Katniss, but there are certainly days when I have to steal a page from my wife's coping mechanism book and count the many blessings I've received in the years following so much personal tragedy in my youth. So far, the good has overwhelmingly outweighed the bad. It's a battle both Katniss and I fight day to day, and at worst, sometimes even minute to minute, but standing here with my little boy in my arms listening to his sister singing to herself as she leisurely washes up for dinner, I know deep down in a place no trace of hijacking or brainwashing could ever touch that the life I'm leading now is worth fighting for.
"Tickle, tickle!" Finn giggles and slides the hand on my ear down to my neck, pinching what he knows is one of my most ticklish spots.
I laugh, catching his little hand easily in mine and nibble on the back of it playfully just as Katniss calls up the steps asking whether we all plan on eating or if she has the whole meal to herself.
"Oh no! Mama's gonna eat our food!" I gasp with big eyes and Finn mimics my face as Bow bolts out of the bathroom door and clambers down the steps.
"Slowly! Slowly!" I call after her and flip Finn over my shoulder upside down. He squeals and swats my backside laughing heartily and I smile at the hoarse little belly laugh that follows, a sound he only makes when he's especially entertained by something.
"So-dee, so-dee, Bowie! Walk niiiice…." he admonishes from where he hangs face to face with my shoulder blade and I follow the smell of fried fish down the steps to the kitchen.
Later, I come up behind Katniss at the sink where she's begun scrubbing the dishes from dinner and wrap my arms around her waist. From the little gasp she emits as I cross my arms over one another just under her breasts, I know she's thinking, as I am, about the first time I did this to her on the night we first made love.
"Mmm…twenty-something years since the first time I snuck up on you like this at the sink—" I begin and Katniss lays her sudsy hands over top of mine, pushing them away from her middle as she turns in my arms quickly and brings her dampened arms up to wrap around my neck, carrying the smell of the lemon dish soap that was also present on that night years ago.
"—and look whose still the one doing the dishes." She whispers with a smirk and I grimace, bringing one hand to my heart between us as if she's wounded me.
"—Oooooo…ouch!" I chuckle and Katniss reaches up on her tip-toes to kiss me as she laughs with me.
Moments like this where we get to be totally alone together are few and far between these days with two little ones in the house, but for just a second we hold each other close, lost in the memory of shy, but spirited foreplay that led to our first quick, but passionate sexual encounter.
We forget ourselves for a few nostalgic seconds until the embarrassed giggles of our little ones drag us unwillingly, yet contentedly back to the present.
Katniss and I both open our eyes at the same time and turn our heads to smile at the little faces peeking around the kitchen doorway at us just as my ears pick up on a familiar tune drifting softly from the radio on the counter that is often turned on while we are doing the dishes.
"Hey there, monsters…" I say clapping my hands together once loudly as I back away from the warm embrace of my wife. "Who wants to dance?" I ask, eager to draw the kids' attention away from what they refer to as 'the icky stuff' they're forced to observe as the children of two people who remain hopelessly in love.
Compared to the reserved, often stoic relationship I saw between my own parents, I don't exactly feel much sympathy for my children for their having to bear witness to the healthy, loving relationship Katniss and I share.
"Me! Me! Me! Me!" They both cheer and bee-line straight for their usual dancing partners.
Katniss crouches down to Finn's level and lifts him up into her arms where he perches happily on her hip, one hand gripping her shoulder and the other going immediately to her pearl necklace which he gives a little twist and leans in to inspect. I smile, watching as Katniss takes his little hand and kisses the back of it before placing it on her other shoulder and buzzing one of his little round cheeks with a raspberry which makes Finn screech and tuck his head under his mother's chin.
"Go Mama, go!" He laughs and Katniss takes off across the kitchen with a little extra bounce in her step to keep that lovely little bubble of laughter flowing steadily from Finn's lips to our grateful parent ears.
Bow seems to have moved on temporarily from her flirtation with young womanhood and I couldn't be more relieved as she climbs me like a tree and peppers kisses all over my face before smooshing my cheeks together to make what she calls my 'fishy lips' which I proceed to lunge toward her with, making her scream.
"Alright, alright…I'll put the fishy lips away if you dance nice with me." I promise and Bow nods once and drops her head to my shoulder as I begin to romp around the room. On our second pass, Katniss and I catch one another's eye and share a knowing smile as another memory, this time of a long-ago dance off between myself and the old woman who, for a time acted as a replacement mother figure for us both.
"Spin me, Daddy! Spin me!" Bow squeals and I put my hands under her armpits, lifting her straight up in the air and make quick circles in the middle of the kitchen.
"Yes, ma'am…" I tease and add another blessing to the list I've been making since I left the room with the red x on the door not long ago.
