Donna stayed close to Dem as they entered the grocery store. She hadn't wanted to go back into that riot of colour and sound, but Dem had insisted that she couldn't hide away forever - and he had promised to bake cookies.
Donna kept her head down as she pulled the wheeled basket after her. Her husband effortlessly picked what he wanted from the shelves, somehow knowing which brand of flour he wanted. How did he choose? Donna struggled to decide what pair of trousers to put on in the morning, and all of hers were identical.
"What do you want the cookies to be with?" Dem asked as they stood in front of a giant display of jam.
"I don't know."
Dem smiled softly and wrapped his arm around her. "Come on. Pick something. I know you can do it."
It was impossible to choose. What were the options? "Jam," she said irritably, waving at the glass jars.
"See? It's not so hard." He kissed her on the cheek. "What kind of jam?"
There were so many kinds. Donna had no idea what she wanted. She wanted them all. She wanted Dem to hurry up and pick so that she could go home and lie on the couch with Dusty, who didn't demand impossible things from her.
"What's your favourite berry?" Dem asked softly, his breath tickling her ear. Despite her stress, Donna chuckled.
"Blackcurrant-gooseberry hybrid."
"I don't think they have that."
A bolt of fury wormed its way through Donna. How could they have so much but not the one thing she wanted? The lights were blinding and she felt too hot, even though her jacket was unzipped. "Blackcurrant and gooseberry, then."
"That should work," Dem said, taking two small glass jars from the shelf. They'd re-use the jars later. Dem had an entire shelf of empty jars in a storage cupboard.
Ten minutes later, they were walking home, pulling their little cart behind them. Donna linked her arm with Dem's - on her own, she tended to get confused and wander off the path or even into traffic - and lightly kissed him on the mouth for no reason at all. "I see you're hungry for more than just cookies," he joked.
"I want to feel you," Donna said, reaching up with a gloved hand to run her fingers down his face. She had missed his presence so much! "We missed out on so much."
The cart bounced over a slight unevenness in the sidewalk. "We'll make up for it," Dem whispered, draping his free hand over her shoulder. "I will love you until you forget the last twenty-six years," he added, his voice husky and low.
"Hot," Donna deadpanned.
Dem looked at her strangely. "I hope so."
Donna mentally kicked herself for getting sarcastic about sex with her husband. "Well, yes," she said awkwardly. "Cookies first, though. We agreed." She couldn't cope with changing schedules.
"Of course." Dem dropped his arm so that they could hold hands. "You know, my friends are going to die of envy when they find out about our sex life."
"They didn't spend twenty-six years apart," Donna said, sharper than she intended. Dem squeezed her hand sympathetically, saying nothing.
When they got back to the apartment, Dusty ran up happily to greet them. Donna gave her some ear scratches before helping Dem put everything away. Before, she had never even set foot in the kitchen, but now, she couldn't imagine not helping Dem make breakfast - or bake cookies. It was surprisingly fun, even if the flour got everywhere.
Once the cookies were in the oven and Dem exiled her to the living room so that he could wash the dishes (the kitchen was too small for both of them to do it), she went to watch the news with Dusty, who seemed to disapprove of the economic policies of Kim's government.
It was amazing to have so much information at her fingertips. Donna looked up a country the newscaster mentioned and ended up going down a rabbithole of research culminating with a singer who had been popular when Aulus had been starting highschool. She had missed so much. She understood nothing of this world. Donna felt a sudden rush of gratitude to Dem for putting up with her when she couldn't even go to the grocery store.
"Guess what I've got for you," Dem said, holding out a plate of jam cookies. He was smiling like he had on that day in university when they had met up for their first study session. His hair was white and beating a retreat, his skin was lined and sagging slightly, but his smile and his eyes were still the same.
Donna reached out and took a cookie. Her first cookie eaten in freedom. It tasted like any other jam cookie Dem had ever made for her, save perhaps for the jam. He, at least, was still the same. Donna ate every crumb, feeling like she was going to cry. "I love you so much," she whispered, licking her fingers clean.
"I love you, too." He had to put the plate down because she reached out her arms to hug him.
"I want to hug you forever," Donna said, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She had missed this intimacy. "I went too long without this."
Dem chuckled. "Hug therapy."
They stood like this for a while, so tightly wrapped up in each other, Donna could not tell where she ended and her husband began. It was warm, yes, but it was more than just warmth. It felt so right to hold him in her arms, to know that there were no barriers between them and that they were together in all senses of the word.
The moment was broken by Dusty demanding a belly rub. They sat down on the couch and obligingly petted the dog, Donna munching on the cookies Dem had placed into her palm - Donna could not control her own food intake. Once they were sure Dusty would not try to interrupt at the worst possible moment, they went to their bedroom, where Dem did his best to make Donna forget the past twenty-six years.
The next morning, Donna was finally able to meet up with Theodosius. Her friend looked more lost than anything. As he walked up to her, he looked around, as if looking for something. "Hey," he said.
Like her, he was dressed simply, in a coat and trousers he wouldn't have been caught dead in before. "Hey," Donna said, gesturing to the bench. The park where she and Dem took Dusty was equally close to both of their places, so they had chosen it as the place to meet up. "How are you?" It was strange to be standing next to him not in the prison yard.
Theodosius sank down onto the bench. "Grateful. I can't imagine how they're doing right now."
The news had just arrived. Both Best and Verdant had died of natural causes. "I know this is selfish, but I'm just glad I don't have to be there for it."
"They only died because we're gone." Theodosius ran a hand through his hair. He was wearing no hat and had the hood of his jacket pulled up. The gesture made it fall off, and he put it back on. "Gave up. They're at an age where that's as deadly as a stroke."
"I can't imagine how they're doing." A handful of old people who knew they would never get out, trapped inside those walls with only each other for company, a constantly shrinking number. "They must be so stressed."
Theodosius raised his feet and stared at his nice boots. He, too, had plenty of generous friends. "I don't want to know," he said, tilting his head back until it rested on the back of the bench. The park was so much larger than their yard, Donna's eyes had issues making out everything that was too far away. "I just want to pretend it was all a strange nightmare. But then I look into the mirror and I see that I'm sixty."
"Yeah," Donna sighed. "What a waste, huh?" She felt no bitterness. She just felt nothing. It was what it was, and all she could do was try to make something half-decent out of it. Her children wanted to talk to her, at least. It was awkward, but as long as they stuck to exchanging monologues, it went well. Inky and Dusty, at least, only demanded belly rubs, not conversation. "I don't even feel bad about getting out and leaving them behind. I'm too busy enjoying my husband."
"And how's that going?" Theodosius wagged his eyebrows.
"I think we were less clumsy when we were nineteen, but I can't describe how much I missed just hugging him."
"Same." Theodosius looked around. "Yesterday, we hugged for several hours. Just sat on the couch and hugged. Then we had sex." He scratched his chin and looked around furtively again. "She got a strap-on as a welcome-back present for me, and we put it to good use."
"Nice. We've also tried to spice it up, but honestly, even cuddles make my brain explode."
"Cuddles are great. Cynthia gave me a backrub for my back," Theodosius said dreamily.
"And how did that go?"
"Finished me off in ten seconds. Poor Cynthia put so much effort into learning how to do erotic massages, and it turns out all she had to do was touch my shoulders."
Donna laughed. "Maybe I should get Dem to give me a backrub."
"You should, it's great. After that, she gave me an actual proper backrub. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. My back hasn't felt so good in decades."
"All of me hasn't felt so good in decades. He's just so...warm." Theodosius nodded. "The other evening, I ate orange slices off him. Never thought oranges could be so tasty."
Theodosius sat up straighter, intrigued. "What, actual orange slices? Like the oranges we got for New Year's?"
"Yeah. We took an orange and put the slices all over him."
"I should ask Cynthia if that's something she'd be interested in. By the way, do you know of any string candies that won't give you indigestion?"
Donna shook her head sadly. "The ones you can crochet with are pure sugar and who-knows-what for elasticity."
"Oh. Well, I'll keep looking, and tell you if I find anything." He sighed. "This is going to sound stupid, but I felt so insecure about undressing for her for the first time. I look like a skeleton with folds of skin hanging off it - I barely thought about it before, but all of a sudden, I felt horribly insecure."
He was, unfortunately, right - Donna remembered well how he looked like naked from the waist up in the yard. Donna herself looked hardly better. Not only had she lost quite a bit of weight in the early years and kept it off, resulting in lots of loose skin all over her, but this weight loss had compounded the stretch marks and loose skin on her stomach and sagging breasts, the inevitable result of five childbirths. "I didn't even think about that. Guess that's one thing my brain spared me."
"Well, Cynthia was all over me, so I didn't dwell on it for long."
"Of course she was."
They sat in silence for a few moments. Abruptly, Theodosius turned to face her. "I just realized something. We're friends, but we never hugged each other."
Donna thought about it and realized he was right. They had all avoided touching each other as much as possible. It had been a method of distancing themselves in the enforced closeness, same as the formal address. "Let's try hugging," she offered, stretching out her arms. Theodosius leaned into the hug. The physical contact was nice, but there was still something off. "Maybe we're just not the hugging kind of friends," she suggested.
"Maybe." Theodosius looked at his expensive-looking watch. Donna also had one on her wrist. "You said you're going to Livia's today?"
Donna nodded. "Need to talk with my biographer," she said, giving the last word a sardonic tone. It still seemed crazy to her that she was important enough to have someone write an actual biography about her. "How is she? And Dancer?" He had called her the other evening.
"Dancer's dancing with joy at the thought of never having to transcribe your handwriting again. He told me to tell you that he is not going to serve as your editor and is in fact going to vacation in Gabon for the next month."
Her onetime secretary hadn't gotten any breaks over the past quarter-century. "Without Livia?" Donna suspected that Livia had been sleeping with the secretary for at least a decade and a half.
"Maybe he needed some time alone?"
"Good for him either way," she said. Livia could probably find an actual editor for her in any case.
Livia still lived in the same house as before. Every panel of wood and lightbulb brought back memories, and even the fridge in the kitchen was the same as before. Lisiewska, who turned out to be a beige-skinned and round-eyed man around the same age as Octavius and with the same coily hair, walked up to her to shake hands. "Very good to finally meet my subject," he said as he shook her hand.
"Very good to meet my biographer." She noticed a book in his hand. "Is that-"
Nodding, Lisiewska handed it to her. It wasn't an actual book, rather a sort of folder with 'Conrad Lisiewska, PhD dissertation, University of Panem, 2382' written on the cover. "Of course, it is too late to get input from you," he said, "but since I defended it successfully, it can't be too bad, can it?" Donna joined in the laughter. She knew how the process worked from her daughter and son.
"May I read it?" she asked, feeling a little bit curious.
"Of course!" He had an anticipatory air around him.
Looking around, Donna saw several couches, but the thought of reading about herself in front of the writer made her feel awkward. "Perhaps somewhere with more privacy?" she asked.
Livia nodded. "We'll go to my office."
They left, and Donna sat down to read. She turned the page, and gulped when she saw the title.
Donna Blues: A Well-Engineered Lie.
For some reason, the pun was almost as offensive as the insult itself. Having a very bad feeling now, she turned the page and began to read.
In this book, I have tried to stay away from the personal life of Donna Blues, and focus on her public persona. The timing may appear odd - when I present this work, Blues will still be in prison - but from my research, I have determined that she must not, in any case, be permitted to spread her version of the truth in televised interviews and the memoirs she is planning on writing.
Donna rubbed at her face, glad that she was alone in the room. Her mood worsened as she continued reading the introduction. She had known that Livia had introduced him to some select documents, but she now had a gnawing suspicion that he had managed to come up with a way to get around her. Some of the things he referred to had been excised from the public record.
The introduction ended with Lisiewska bluntly stating that she had lied on the stand. Donna gnashed her teeth as she read it, cursing the day the man had decided to become a historian. When was it coming out? That week? Next week? She and Theodosius had noticed the suspicious timing, but she had thought it would be a simple PR move. Not some sort of attempt to turn everyone against her.
An unpleasant thought struck her. Had Dem read this? Or her kids? Or anyone else?
Fortunately, the first chapter was fine. Lisiewska had clearly interviewed her parents, as she came across a bit too picture-perfect of a child, but the observations about her pathological desire to succeed and please were unpleasant to read. Either Lisiewska had experienced something similar himself or he had interviewed either Alex or her school friends. The childhood photographs of her were humiliating - there was one of Alex holding her upside-down by the ankles! - but she supposed they were of the sort her parents would have found funny.
As she began university, Blues' desire to fit in was replaced with a desire to stand out in a good way. There is absolutely nothing wrong with her participation in various charitable activities deemed 'patriotic' back then, and it does not appear that she lied when she said that her high category of political reliability was the result of keeping her head down, but they do fit into a larger pattern. According to her friends and husband, Blues never showed much enthusiasm for the 'Hunger Games', but she did tend to speak of them in a callous and unthinking manner, and never missed a mandatory viewing.
Donna leaned back against the soft couch. While it was humiliating to imagine a group of serious professors reading this, especially if they had known her back then in one way or another, it wasn't catastrophic. Taking a deep breath, she continued to read.
As Lisiewska wrote of later and later events, the narration became more and more embarrassing for her. He included photographs that would have earned her the rope had they not been hidden - and did not shy away from pointing it out. Unable to look at a photo of herself at an execution in Six, Donna covered it up with her hand as she read about how Livia had been frustrated by her endless demands from prison and eventually decided to come clean to Lisiewska. Her revanchism was by no means glossed over, much to Donna's relief, but Donna couldn't help but draw the unpleasant conclusion that, despite what they currently believed, Donna was still being considered as a greater menace.
By the time the dissertation reached the present day, Donna was trembling. He had provided evidence of her direct involvement in a myriad of atrocities on location, proved that she had known of the horrors going on in the Districts, and made her out to be some sort of puppetmaster forcing her friend to go along with her demands from out of a prison cell. On top of that, he called her a painfully mediocre engineer who had only succeeded due to parroting the right phrases at the right time, which made her want to break down in tears.
In the conclusion, Lisiewska made himself out to be some sort of heroic investigator who had stopped Donna's lies in their tracks before she could trick the entire world into believing her. He mocked the admission of responsibility she had written to Livia years ago. On top of that, he then had the gall to say that his disparaging remarks about her clandestine communications were not by any means an attempt by the author to trivialize the harshness of twenty-five years' imprisonment. Donna tried to think of what she wanted to say to him, but none of it would have been fit to print.
There was no way out. She could not deny what the documents said. Oh, she could evade, as always, but Lisiewska had built his dissertation on dismantling evasions. Some of what he said she had realized long ago, while others stuck in her throat as she imagined saying them. There was no choice, though. She had unofficial immunity from prosecution, and in any case, it would have been double jeopardy. All she could do was say the book was full of falsehoods and then refuse to give interviews, and she couldn't imagine living as a hermit for however many decades she had left. That left only one option. Somehow, she would have to go up and say that the book was factual.
Deep breaths. In-out, in-out. In his dissertation, Lisiewska had torn to shreds the draft of her autobiography, calling her out for overlooking everything from the Hunger Games to the cost of her parents' old house. Surely he would not be able to refuse the offer of the post of historical consultant. Donna picked up the thick folder, stood up, and headed to Livia's office.
The expression on both of their faces was far too innocent for Donna's liking. And who was the liar now? "Excellent book," Donna said calmly. "I myself came to many of the conclusions you have drawn, Mr. Lisiewska, but until now, I was too ashamed of myself to put them in writing."
"How nice," Lisiewska said blandly. "Does that mean you approve?"
"Very much so." Donna felt as if she had bitten into a lemon. "Since you have gone to the trouble of identifying the gaps in the draft of my biography, I was wondering if you would perhaps be interested in becoming my historical consultant when I go about editing it?" The thought struck Donna that the administration of the Supermax would be tearing out their hair once this got out, but they couldn't do anything to her now. The realization made her relax slightly even as the horrific photographs and documents danced through her mind, and she cursed Livia for having revealed them. They would need to talk. "As for you, Livia - I apologize if I hurt you. It was difficult for me in prison, and you were my only real connection. Forgive me for being so needy and demanding." The words slipped out easily.
Livia sighed. Lisiewska looked like he had a recorder in his pocket at the moment, and couldn't wait to get transcribing. "Not a word of gratitude. Just - do this. Do that. Fetch this. Arrange that. Get money."
"I know. I'm sorry." It infuriated Donna to apologize when she was the one who had a scathing biography coming out in days that would doubtlessly be read by everyone including her parents-
Donna gasped. Her parents. They would die. "I need to tell my parents to not read this," she said in an anxious tone.
Lisiewska chuckled. "Then tell them to not read it. It's coming out over the weekend, you've got time."
The three of them stood in an awkward silence. "I couldn't even go vacation with Rafi," Livia said sadly. "I had to stay behind and deal with all of your issues."
"You can go now," Donna said, not meeting her eyes.
Livia snorted. "And who would manage your affairs? Who would run around shaking down our old colleagues into paying for your children's apartments?" She looked at the table as if trying to find something. "You know, it was like having two jobs at once. I'm still a practicing engineer, in case you've forgotten. And you treated me like I was a second secretary."
Anyone else would have found it unpleasant to be in the middle of a personal argument, but Lisiewska looked attentive, even interested. "You're seizing the initiative, aren't you?" he asked.
"What?"
"I expected to be greeted with a flood of denials," he explained, "but this also makes sense. It's the only way you can make yourself look better."
Donna didn't bother responding to that. Lisiewska was clearly ready to always see her in the most negative light possible. And yet, she could not deny the veracity of the photographs and documents, even as every cell of her body protested against the only conclusion that could be drawn.
On some level, she had of course suspected. The footage had always been skillfully edited, but nothing could have concealed the obvious malnourishment of many of the Tributes. And she had seen the turnover on location, too.
And she had seen the executions. She had been told they were dangerous saboteurs, but if she had believed it, she should have ceased the practice of labour conscription and used volunteer paid workers.
"This fits into a larger pattern," Lisiewska continued. "In your draft, you avoid mentioning the so-called Hunger Games as much as possible. Oh, you refer to being on location, but that is a blatant euphemism."
"What? That was the accepted term even in official documentation!"
Lisiewska looked like he wanted to laugh. "It was an officially used euphemism," he insisted. "Same as calling mass shootings 'executions'. What is more interesting is that, despite this tendency to gloss over the so-called Hunger Games and not even call them by their name, you talk about responsibility on every other page."
This was like talking to the therapist, but worse. At least the therapist didn't insinuate with every other word that she should have been executed. "I was in prison surrounded by people who could only talk of the past," she reminded him. "What else was I supposed to think about? This is just a draft, and on top of that, one written on scraps of paper." She looked him in the eye. "I look forward to your suggestions for improval."
Lisiewska did laugh now, but it was a gentle laugh. "I did not expect to get a job offer within the same week as getting my PhD. Or, indeed, the same year."
"Yes, very nice," Livia said. "I've got multiple offers from publishers. Should I arrange everything or wait for Rafi to come back?" she asked with a tinge of sarcasm.
"Do what seems best."
Livia sighed. "Let's wait until he comes back." Her friend looked so tired, it made Donna feel ashamed of how she had used her all these years. She and Dancer both had effectively had an extra full-time job, albeit one that didn't pay. They had done it out of the goodness of their hearts. Somewhere in the basement was a well-organized collection of her ramblings. Donna had zero desire to see it, but she knew it would be well-organized. All that effort, either because they liked her that much or because she had manipulated them into doing it. Donna wasn't sure which option was worse.
It seemed that that was the story of her life. She always didn't think about the things that made her life easier, and only felt shame after the fact.
What a useless person she really was.
Donna resolved to get her friend and secretary something nice. Livia had always dressed well, and Dancer had always been extravagant. From the newspapers, Donna had picked up, more or less, how people dressed now. Maybe she could make each of them a sweater.
The evening before the book was to be published, Donna felt unwell. She thought it was just stress from the entire past week catching up to her, as well as the news of yet more deaths in the Supermax. Salperin, Hope, and, strangely enough, Li, were all dead now. Two strokes and a heart attack - according to an anonymous guard, Li could have called for help but had instead chosen to lie down, as if to sleep, and die. In response, the administration had introduced some changes. Visits could now be weekly and full-contact. The food had improved. In the gym, they now had couches instead of hard backless benches and could watch television.
A cartoonist had lampooned the changes in The Daily Observer with a drawing of several of the Supermaxers on a couch watching television with a group of guards, with the caption 'At the Supermax Retirement Home'. Donna did not think it was funny. They were clutching at straws to prolong their existence behind the walls of the Supermax for political clout. The situation was so bad, Hryb had finally cracked and agreed to see his family.
Donna shivered and snuggled closer to her husband, trying to chase away the thoughts. Theodosius complained of dreams where he was somehow back in prison and couldn't leave. She didn't need that.
"You alright?" Dem whispered. "You feel hot."
Donna did feel hot. "Maybe I caught a cold." She had spent so long in such isolation, it would have been unsurprising to catch anything. She was up to date on all her shots, so at least the flu was unlikely.
"You've been running yourself ragged," Dem said sympathetically.
"No I wasn't," Donna muttered, curling up into a ball under the blanket. They slept under one large blanket that was so long, it nearly touched the floor on both sides, but somehow one of them always ended up half-uncovered.
Dem took her by the hand. "Just sleep. Maybe you'll feel better."
In the morning, Donna felt infinitely worse. She could barely summon enough energy to stumble to the bathroom, and couldn't even stay standing for long enough to brush her teeth. "Why did you get up so early?" Dem asked as he pulled on his tracksuit bottoms.
"Needed to pee."
"Ah." He paused with one hand on the door handle. "Should I bring you something? Water? Tea?"
"Water's fine." Donna lay back down and woke up again when the sun was up. Her head hurt, she felt both hot and cold at the same time, and she was horribly weak and tired. At least nobody would be dragging her out to give an interview about Lisiewska's book, even if rumours were probably already flying all over the Web that she was hiding.
She drank some water, wincing when it hurt to swallow. On unsteady feet, she made her way to the living room, where Dem was sitting at the laptop with Dusty on his lap. "You're up!" he exclaimed.
"Barely," Donna whispered.
"Are you going to go back to sleep?"
Donna thought for a few seconds. "I don't know."
Dem gently put down Dusty and stood up, unplugging the laptop from the socket. "Why don't we watch something together?" he offered.
"Sure. But aren't you worried about getting sick?"
Dem shrugged as he walked towards her. "I slept beside you the entirety of last night. Too late now. I'll unfold the couch tonight, though, so you have more room." The living-room couch could fold out to make an extra bed.
He went into the bedroom, Dusty staying on the floor next to the couch. Donna felt sorry for the poor dog. She was so scared of everyone, she spent her time sitting alone in some corner. A wave of pity washed over Donna, and she walked over to the dog, who looked tense at her approach.
"Why don't you come with us?" Donna offered. "Come on. Good doggy. Nice doggy. Perfect doggy."
Hesitantly, Dusty followed Donna into the bedroom and curled up on the carpet into a tight ball of dog. Donna flopped onto the bed and lay down, feeling too hot for a blanket. She closed her eyes, but didn't want to sleep.
"What do you want to watch?" Dem asked as he opened a browser. He had no television but he had still bought a subscription, giving him access to not only the live feed, but the entire archive.
Donna shrugged, taking some water and pouring on her face. "Something about engineering." She lay with her eyes closed, feeling the headache pound in her head. When she swallowed, her ear hurt. "Also, can you get me a thermometer?"
"Sure. Why don't you pick something?" He handed the laptop to her and got up. Donna scrolled through a list of documentaries, eventually settling on one about the history of public sewer construction. She had read a lot about various types of public works, but sewers were the most interesting, because of the fact that they had to be underground. She was especially interested in the construction of sewers in already-established cities, because of how they needed to be dug without affecting anything else.
A sudden chill came over Donna, and she pulled the blanket around herself. Logically, she knew that suddenly being exposed to people in February was not good for one's health, but she was still irritated. Sooyen's school play was in a week, and she didn't want to be still sick when that happened.
Dem came back with the thermometer. He noticed her choice of movie and smiled. "I should have expected that."
As they began to watch the movie, Donna took her temperature - it turned out to be not good, but not dangerous. She adjusted her pillow so that she could sit up slightly and watch the movie, but fell asleep halfway through it.
The next day, she felt better, but still didn't want to get out of bed. Her health was not improved by the news that while the average person had more important things to worry about than a biography of her, academic journals were universal in their praise for Lisiewska's book. Theodosius called her, terrified after Livia's revelation that he was next, and then Livia called to say that everyone wanted to interview her. Her friend was much warmer towards her, almost like back when they had been coworkers.
Donna amused herself by watching endless documentaries on bridges made from actual living trees, the rise and fall of offshore oil rigs, and aerospace engineering, which was just fascinating. In school, they had only been told in a few vague phrases that people had once gone to space but that it was impossible now. She had read books and seen photos in prison, but actual live streams of people in outer space doing all sorts of experiments and having fun were so amazing, it made her feel sad that Panem had missed out on it all for so long.
She took a sip of vegetable broth, wincing at the pain in her throat and ear. On the laptop screen, two middle-aged people floated in mid-air as they demonstrated the strange rotation of certain objects in microgravity. Donna wondered what it would be like to build something that would orbit the planet. Then, she wondered what it would be like to build something that would exist in a different gravity. The fact that g = -9.81m/s/s would not be so self-evident if the great powers finally cooperated long enough to actually get to the Moon and stay there. As it was, the two astronauts on the screen worked together well enough, but every time the ISS needed repairs, it was an argument worthy of the Supermax directors.
Such a strange world that she lived in. Unlike the rest of the country, she hadn't been able to slowly get used to it. She hadn't even had newspapers until years later. Her first sighting of a foreigner had been of some important person visiting the prison on a lark.
The video ended. Donna wondered if going to sleep was worth it. After a few seconds, she decided to solve a sudoku instead. There were entire Web pages and forums dedicated to all sorts of puzzles, and Donna was shocked when she had found out that she was good enough to solve sudokus from actual competitions, though not as shocked as she had been to find out that there were international sudoku competitions. It seemed like there was nothing countries wouldn't try to one-up each other in.
A user was stuck partway through a difficult sudoku Donna had solved already. She pointed out an error they had made and clicked on a different tab, which had the one she was working on. The user's name contained a revanchist reference, but she wasn't going to call them out on it. Not only would it be utterly ridiculous coming from her, but it would probably result in the thread being locked down. Unlike before, one couldn't click anywhere without landing on politics.
Sooyen's school wasn't nearly as nice as the one Donna had attended, but neither was it as run-down as schools in poorer neighbourhoods had used to be. "Looks nice," she said neutrally.
Next to her, Sooyen was nearly bouncing around. It was still hours before the opening night of the school play, and she needed to be there to set up. "It's alright," she said as she pulled open the door. Inside, all sorts of banners and streamers hung everywhere, and teenagers were rushing back and forth. There wasn't a single adult in sight.
"Hey, Sooyen!" Two identical teenage boys rushed up to them. "Is that the mysterious grandma?"
Donna chuckled. "I am indeed her grandmother."
"That's cool." The boy on the left took out his phone. "Where's your uncle?"
Sooyen shrugged. "He said he'd drop by at five. Maybe he over-showered again."
The two boys laughed. "Her uncle used to be in Setcon way back when," the boy on the right explained.
"The uncle she speaks of is my youngest son, so yes, I know," Donna reminded them gently. The boy clapped a hand to his face. "Over-showered?"
"That's the excuse he used once last year," Sooyen said. "It's kind of a joke now."
Someone else ran up, a teenage girl. "Ben, what do you-oh." The girl stared at Donna wide-eyed before frowning. "Sorry. I thought you looked familiar."
"Maybe," Donna said noncommittally, wishing she could telepathically tell the girl to shut up. "So. How are things doing?"
"Sooyen, are your parents not coming?" the boy on the right asked.
Sooyen made a face. "I don't think they'd be interested in the play. And they and my grandfather got their fill of it back when my uncle was in Setcon in any case."
"Oh, so how does it compare to before?" he asked Donna.
Once, Octavius' clandestine letters had been page-long rants about the school play. "Looks much the same, I'd say."
"Huh."
Sooyen dragged her to the auditorium to show off the sets and introduce her to her friend, who was also in set construction. After talking for fifteen seconds, Donna realized that her granddaughter had a crush on the girl, who was completely oblivious. Donna asked about school and the play, trying to not think about having been recognized.
"Look!" Sooyen said, pointing upwards as they walked across the stage. Donna looked up and saw two levels of catwalks. "It's really nice up there. We're going to be lowering some things from there during the play."
"Sounds interesting." How often had Sooyen climbed up there?
"By the way, there's going to be food for sale. I can snatch something from the staff room if you're hungry."
"How can I be hungry when your grandpa fed me half an hour ago?"
Sooyen laughed. She was so carefree and happy, it almost hurt. It felt like yesterday that her daughter had brought a tiny baby into prison to show her, but Sooyen was taller than her now.
Sooyen took her on a tour of the school before directing her to the auditorium. When Octavius appeared, Donna beat a retreat to a place to sit. As parents and relatives trickled in, either they did not recognize her or did a good job of concealing it. Unexpectedly, Theodosius also appeared, sitting down next to her with a smile.
"You also decided to show up?"
"Well, she is my grand-niece."
The play turned out to be about a group of thieves trying to pull off a heist, but with random musical numbers and dances interspersed throughout it. The promised lowering from the catwalk turned out to be giant glowing letters made from plywood, translucent plastic, and fairy lights - but they were in the wrong order and rotated strangely when lowered. Donna and Theodosius began to laugh but stopped when they realized nobody else was. One of the set construction kids stood up, pointing, before he was pulled down by his friends.
During intermission, Sooyen introduced Donna and Theodosius to even more people. The youthful energy zipping past her, paper plates of pizza and noodles in hand, was overwhelming, and they were glad when the play resumed, but not for long. When the play ended with the would-be thieves getting arrested when they tried to fence the valuables, Donna wondered for an absurd second if this was supposed to be a dig at her.
"So, what'd you think?" Sooyen asked as the four of them walked in the direction of the subway - Donna, Octavius, and Theodosius lived a good distance from Donna, Daeho, and Sooyen.
"Interesting," Theodosius said. "I liked it when the lights got messed up. And the sets were really nice."
"Ah, yes, it's always great when someone messes up," Octavius said lightly.
"They were," Donna said at the same time. "I could tell you worked very hard on it."
Sooyen smiled and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.
"This is for you," Donna said awkwardly, shoving the bag into Livia's hand. "You and Rafi." They had switched to a first-name basis on Livia's insistence.
Livia took the bag and looked inside. "Thanks. Do you want to come inside?" Donna was standing on her front porch.
"I just came here to drop it off."
"Is it-" Livia took out the first sweater and gasped. "It's gorgeous!" she exclaimed, holding the rather basic cabled sweater in one hand. "Is this for me?" Her eyes were wide with shock. Donna nodded, unsure of what to say. "It's so beautiful!"
Donna shook her head. "It's nothing. Li's sweaters, now that's beautiful." It hit Donna that Li would never make a sweater again. She gulped, trying not to cry. She was at an age where one began to lose friends, but it still felt completely wrong to her.
Another thing to discuss with the therapist. It was like she and Dem had a new urgent topic every session.
"It's still beautiful," Livia insisted. She put down the bag and took out the second sweater. "For Rafi?" Donna nodded. "It's a lovely gift."
"Not enough to compensate for the past years."
Livia sighed. "Just having my friend back - that's compensation enough."
Donna stood mutely, wondering how to react.
"Why don't you come in? We can drink tea and remember how much we hated our TA in Physics 350." Livia put the sweaters back in the bag and smiled hesitantly.
"It was Phys 340," Donna corrected her, stepping into the house. Livia's smile grew wider.
They were all lined up in her parents' apartment, except for Joel, who was behind bars. Donna had visited Donna, Aulus, and Octavius, and Laelia had visited her, but she hadn't met Lars yet, except over videocalls. Primus was elsewhere, as she and Theodosius had decided to have separate reunions.
Lars was happy. There was no other way to describe him. Despite all the stress she knew her son was experiencing, he seemed to be nearly glowing. Donna went to hug him, but Alex got there first. Her brother was still taller than her, even if he had shrunk.
"There you are!" he exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight hug. "My baby sister is back!"
Donna sighed. "Alex, I'm turning sixty-three in a few weeks."
"Still my baby sister." Holding her with one arm, he took off her hat and mussed her hair with the other hand, knuckles rubbing against her scalp. "Aw, your hair's too short to muss it up properly."
Everyone laughed at that. In the line, Donna poked Octavius. "See? You're still the baby brother. Now and forever."
"Yes, but I'm taller than you," Octavius said, proceeding to loom over everyone.
"Yeah, well, you're still the baby. So - ha!" Lars looked up at him, trying to look impressive. He was a head shorter than his younger brother.
"Why don't we sit down?" Mom suggested.
"I'm glad I'm an only child," Sooyen muttered. Helia laughed and agreed. Aulus' wife was visibly pregnant, perhaps five or six months along. She had suffered from a series of miscarriages, but it seemed to be going fine this time.
In the apartment, they barely had enough room to turn around. Donna wondered out loud how they had managed to survive in the house without killing each other, and ended up having to endure hours of reminisces about the childhood of the kids. She knew it was obvious she wasn't paying attention, but she simply could not follow the constant references to events she had never been around to witness. At least there was plenty of food. Donna was careful to take only small portions of everything.
As dessert was brought out, the conversation took a morbid turn. "We've re-written our wills," Dad said as he sipped his tea. "Since you're now available and all. Though Octavius gets the apartment, since he lives here."
"Fair enough," Laelia said, scratching Inky behind the ears. Dusty was lying on a couch and taking a well-deserved nap. "I live in Three in any case."
"We have decided to donate our bodies to science," he continued, "as well as that of Inky." The cat must have understood what they were talking about, for he hissed suddenly.
"See?" Octavius said. "You're not going to die tomorrow."
Mom waved him off. "Never hurts to be prepared." She took a bite of a small cookie. "Even for a cat." She leaned over and petted Inky, looking somber. Donna's heart ached, and she wished she hadn't abandoned them for so long. Mom looked around and realized that everyone's appetite had been ruined. "I told you, Publius, this is not appropriate table conversation-"
"You're the one who wrote up a list of what you want your body to be used for!"
Her parents began to bicker. Donna winced and looked down, wishing she had done things differently, so that they didn't have to fight. The worst thing was that she couldn't even tell herself it was an irrational feeling. At the end of the day, all of her family's current problems could be traced back to her.
A/N: And so, it is revealed that Conrad Lisiewska has secretly been a fifteen-years-younger Matthias Schmidt this entire time. And unlike Schmidt's subject, Donna can't even die to get out of having to explain everything.
Lucky Lisiewska, though. He thought he'd spend years trying to get a job even vaguely connected to history, and here one is being dropped into his lap before the ink on his certificate has dried.
Dem and Cynthia are getting lucky even more - their coworkers are going to die of envy when they find out about the 3-4x/week and daily romantic cuddles. Person's gotta make up for 26 years of loneliness ;)