Chapter Forty-Seven: A Normal Life
"Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be."—Rick Warren
For most of the ride to the airport, the image of Peeta falling to his knees replays in my mind.
He'd been so reassuring and hopeful throughout everything, I didn't fully realize just how much he'd been withholding until that moment. I tried to run back to him as soon as the door closed, only to find myself being held back and ushered along, with the insistence that we had to go. I was in such a state afterwards, I don't even remember leaving the apartment building or getting into the car. The only thing that really brought me out of it was Prim taking my hand and resting her head against my arm, whispering to me that everything would be okay and that I could call Peeta as soon as we got home.
With those simple word - 'home' - my tears came to a halt and a numb resolve took over. Hopefully Mr. Mellark had the good sense to console Peeta after we left. In any case, all of this is out of my hands. There's no turning back now even if I wanted to. My focus needs to be on Prim and what lies ahead - which, at the moment, is an airplane.
Prim and I hold hands as we board, following behind the two adults. The social worker, who I've learned is named Linda and is less severe than my initial impression, leads us to our seats and sits directly across the aisle. The officer, whose name is Tom and is mostly silent, sits behind us. Prim takes the window, which I'm more than happy to let her have.
I'm not a fan of heights, at least to a point, and I've never flown before. I'm already queasy enough just being on the ground, imagining how far up we'll be with no way of escape. I try not to let my mind wander to the worst places, like how ironic it'd be if - after finally getting a fair chance at life - this plane were to crash. Prim seems excited, though. She keeps glancing out the window, then back at me with a big grin on her face.
A few people pass and stare as if they recognize us; some even whisper to each other. I stare down at my lap, wringing my hands, avoiding the prospect of anyone having the audacity to ask questions. You'd think whoever was in charge of sending us to another state would've been a bit more cautious. I doubt anyone connected to Snow or Coin would be on here, but word could get out through the grapevine that two supposed dead girls from the news were spotted on a flight to Maine.
"You sure you don't want to sit by the window? I don't want to hog the whole view. We could take turns if you want?" Prim asks. I look over at her, mustering a small smile. As worried sick as I am about everything else, it's a relief that she's handling the situation so well.
"I'm good right here, thanks. If you get scared once we're in the air, I'll trade with you though."
She nods once, furrowing her brow in thought. My heart plummets to my stomach, wondering if I might've just turned her excitement into anxiety. Despite my offer, I dread the possibility of trading places with her. She doesn't reply, only frowns and gazes out the window again. I search for something to say, but everything that comes to mind seems hypocritical or would only heighten her fear.
"I wonder how Mom's doing," she says quietly. "You think she misses us at all?" The sudden change of topic takes me by surprise.
With all that's been going on lately, we haven't had much of a chance to discuss Mom. Of course Prim would still be worried about her, though. Even if it's been a relief not having to take care of her, she's never been far from my thoughts either. I had nothing to do with our separation, but I still can't help feeling guilty; as if I've somehow abandoned her. I keep reminding myself that I've done the best I could. I kept her alive, which was never an easy task. We may not be able to help her anymore, but at least she has a small chance to recover now.
"I don't know. I just hope she's getting better," I say.
"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" Prim turns her head towards me again, her eyes imploring. I know as much as she does. Everything is a question right now; I have no idea what'll even happen when we get off this plane. And the thought of going back, even if it's far away from our little town, isn't something I want to do anytime soon. Still... I can't tell her no. It'd crush her, and I need her to be as strong as possible right now.
"Yeah. Eventually," I answer. "Until then, Mr. Mellark said he'd keep us updated on how she is. I'm sure he'll also send pictures or a video if we ask."
"Would you ask him for me?"
"Sure. Of course. Once we get settled in."
She falls silent for a moment and looks out the window again, seemingly appeased by my answer. Resting her chin on the palm of her hand, she muses, "I wonder what our new house will be like."
"I have no idea," I shrug. "Anything's better than the trailer, though."
"True," she nods, a hint of a smile curving her lips. "It'll be so nice never having to worry about the things we used to. You won't have to chop wood or hunt, and we can take baths all the time and use an actual toilet from now on. We can just be normal."
Though her comment is meant to bring comfort, it makes me apprehensive. How will life be, when all the things I used to do are no longer needed? Through all my teenage years, every waking moment has been full of worry and work, putting every effort into keeping things from completely falling apart. It's shaped who I am, and it's hard to imagine life any other way. I have no idea what 'normal' is anymore. Even with Peeta, things were never simple.
"It'll definitely be different," I mumble distractedly, scowling at a woman passing by who evidently has a staring problem.
"In a good way, hopefully. If Grandma and Grandpa are nice," Prim continues, apparently oblivious to anything going on around her. I'm thankful for it, honestly. Her optimism is the only thing keeping me relatively calm.
"I'm sure they will be. If not, we don't have long before I turn eighteen and we can move off on our own. We're going to be okay," I say, nudging her shoulder with mine. "We'll get through this."
"I know," she replies with confidence. "Things will be better from now on."
As I'm about to reply, a woman's voice comes over the intercom to announce that we're getting ready to take off. Some other things are said, but I don't really hear it all as panic overcomes me. I push my head back against the seat and squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the armrests with all my might as I try not to hyperventilate or vomit. Prim obviously notices my distress, because she pries my hand free and takes it within hers.
"It'll be okay. We didn't come this far just to die in a plane crash, Katniss," she reassures. "Don't overthink it. Pretend we're inside a bird; not like we've been eaten or something, but like we're the bones that help it fly. We're just... inside a giant bluebird, and we're going over the rainbow. That's all."
I snort in amusement as I open an eye at her.
"I guess it's better to travel in a bird than a tornado," I say with a soft, shaky laugh.
"Right!" she nods adamantly.
The moment is short-lived as the plane begins to move. Without thinking, I bury my face into Prim's shoulder. She releases my hand to cradle my head in her arms. Then, to my surprise, she begins to sing 'Over the Rainbow'.
Her voice is soft and breathy, and I can tell by the way it slightly trembles that she's a bit scared herself. She stops briefly, asking me to sing along. I shake my head, not wanting people to hear me and also afraid that if I open my mouth something might come out of it other than words. So she continues by herself, singing a song she barely knows, humming when she's unsure of the words.
After a few seconds of listening to her, resolve takes over. I don't know these people; chances are I'll never see them again. I don't really care what they think. Right now, I need to be as strong for Prim as she's being for me. We're in this together.
In a tone just above a whisper, I begin to sing with her.
We hold onto each other, trying to distract our fear as the plane ascends. Soon, everything steadies and I slowly relax. My ears ring and I have to pop them in order to hear correctly again. I extract myself from Prim's arms with a whispered 'thank you' and rest my head back against the seat, taking deep breaths to calm the queasiness in my stomach.
"You're on your way, girls!" Linda smiles from across the aisle. "How are you feeling?"
"I don't know," I answer. "I'll just be happy when this thing lands and my feet are on the ground again."
"I think it's awesome!" Prim says, her voice full of awe as she gazes out the window. "We're up so high! I can see clouds below us and everything's so tiny. Katniss, you should really see this!"
"No, thank you," I mutter, shaking my head.
"I've been on dozens of flights and nothing has ever gone wrong. I know it's kind of scary at first, but it gets easier with time," Linda reassures. "We shouldn't be in the air too long, though. Maybe an hour or two." She reaches into her big brown satchel and pulls out a stack of magazines. "I brought some reading materials. Maybe you could look through these to take your mind off things?"
She raises her eyebrows as she holds them out to me. I take them with a nod, thankful for any sort of distraction.
"If you're hungry or thirsty, don't be shy about asking. Also, if either of you need to use the restroom, I'll escort you," she says. "I'm here to help however I can, okay?"
I nod again and say thanks before turning to Prim. "You want to look at any of these?"
"Nope," she answers. "I'm just going to look out the window the whole time. It's seriously amazing, Katniss! You should at least take a tiny peek-"
"I'm good," I reply resolutely and begin leafing through a magazine called Time.
"Suit yourself," she relents with a shrug, "but you're missing out."
I jolt awake as it's announced that we're getting ready to land.
I'd read about five or six articles before my eyelids got heavy and I apparently fell asleep. Unsurprisingly, I had a horrible dream. As my mind returns to reality, little details of the nightmare slip away, but what remains makes me sick to my stomach. All I can recall is getting off the plane to meet my grandparents, but they weren't my grandparents - they were Snow and Coin in disguise. They told me they were taking me home, and the next thing I knew, we were back in the trailer. And then I saw Peeta lying on the floor, dead... and they told me I'd killed him.
"Great, you're awake! We're almost there! I'm excited, but really, really nervous. I hope they like me," Prim says in a rush. I yawn and stretch my arms out in front of me.
"Of course they will," I reply. "You're their granddaughter."
"Yeah, but they don't really know me," she counters.
"Don't worry about that. You're the sweetest eleven-year-old ever. They'll love you."
"I don't know about that, but I hope you're right."
I try with all my might to shake the dream, but certain parts keep replaying in my head. In an attempt to redirect my thoughts, I gather my courage and lean over to look out the window.
At the view, my mouth drops open and the fear I had dissipates into tranquility. The sky is a deep periwinkle, fading lighter as it kisses a bed of white puffy clouds. It doesn't even feel like we're flying anymore, but as if we're floating on a sea of cotton.
The only thing that reminds me we're up so high is catching glimpses of the landscape far below us. I'm slightly disappointed I'm just now getting to enjoy this, but I'm glad I finally worked up the gumption to look. Something about it fills me with hope and assurance that everything is going to be just fine.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Prim asks in a hushed tone.
I smile and nod in reply, too speechless to say anything.
No matter what happens from here on out, we're alive and we have each other. We've gone through hell and watched it burn to ash as we walked out. Whatever obstacles come our way, we're going to be more than okay; we're going to be triumphant.
After the plane lands, Prim and I hug each other before following the adults to the arrivals platform. Linda turns to us and gives us her phone number if we need to get in touch with her for any reason, adding that we'll have a new social worker here that we can also contact. She wishes us well, tells us that our lives are going to be a lot better now, then gives us both a brief hug.
Before I have a chance to look around for my grandparents, I hear a woman's voice, husky and thick with emotion, call out, "Primrose? Katniss? Oh my stars! You've gotten so big!"
Prim and I turn to see an older woman making her way towards us, along with a man with a cane hobbling to keep up with her. She's slightly plump, wearing a long dress covered in yellow flowers, with a hat to match. As she comes closer, I can see the glistening of tears on her cheeks.
I stand frozen, unsure of what to do or say. Prim grabs my hand, and we exchange a small smile of reassurance.
When Grandma finally reaches us, she immediately wraps her arms around me in a tight, trembling embrace. I'm taken aback by the abrupt affection, but it's also a relief to be welcomed in such a way so I tentatively hug her in return.
She rubs my back as she murmurs through sniffles, "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry... you girls deserved so much better. You're safe now, though, I promise you that! No one's going to hurt you here."
As she pulls back, holding onto my upper arms to look at me, the mixture of love and sincerity in her dark brown eyes makes me believe every word she just said. I'm astounded and comforted by how much of my father I see in her features. Whatever reservations I had about coming to live here are subdued; it might be tough to adjust to an entirely new life, but at least we'll be with the right people -with family - who we can trust.
"Look at you, all grown up and more beautiful than I ever could've imagined," she beams, bringing her hands up to cradle my cheeks. She then moves on to Prim, leaning over to wrap her in a hug. "You, too, dear! Oh my, last I saw you, you barely came up to my waist!"
Prim doesn't hesitate at all before embracing her back, looking relieved and overjoyed.
I look over at Grandpa, with his grey-blond hair and light blue eyes, observing the scene with a warm, endearing smile. He catches my eye and nods in greeting, and I nod back with a shaky smile. He takes a step forward, stops as if hesitating, then seemingly making up his mind, closes the distance between us.
He brings an arm around me in a hug, which I return, then pats me on the back as he tells me quietly, "We're happy to finally have you with us. I hope you two come to feel at home here."
"I have a feeling we will," I reply, and I believe it with all my heart.
Once we're all acquainted, Grandma steps off to the side with Linda to discuss some things. I don't listen in; I don't want to know all the technicalities. Now that I'm here, I just want to forget my old life ever existed. Well, except for Peeta, but he'll hopefully be a part of my new life soon.
I watch in silence as Prim and Grandpa carry on a lighthearted conversation. I'm so overwhelmed by everything, I'm not really hearing them though. I only know that they're discussing something about airplanes.
Soon enough, we're in the backseat of my grandparents' car, on our way to our new home. I don't say much during the ride, but Prim talks enough for both of us. She's practically bouncing with excitement the whole time. It's wonderful to see her being so open and comfortable already; it's as if she's known our grandparents her whole life. They've definitely taken quite a liking to her as well.
We finally reach a quaint little town, which Grandma informs us is where we live. We pass beautiful cobblestone buildings, specialty shops, and even some street vendors selling fresh produce and fish. It's flurrying a bit, which surprises me; in Panem, we usually don't get snow until a couple months from now, at least. I now understand why Mr. Mellark bought us coats and boots.
Prim asks in concern if the vendors get cold out there, to which Grandma answers, "You kind of learn to get used to the chill up here, love."
After a few minutes, the town fades into neighborhoods. There's a totally different atmosphere here compared to Panem; everything just seems brighter.
Prim and I gasp when we come over a hill and see the ocean stretched out in front of us in all its wondrous, infinite glory. Pictures in textbooks and magazines don't come close to capturing the magnificence of witnessing it up close. We're so in awe of it, our eyes captivated by the waves and how the rays of the sun ripple on the water, that we don't pay much attention to the fact that the car has stopped.
"Welcome home, girls!" Grandpa says brightly.
"What?" I ask quickly in shock, hardly believing my ears. "You live right by the ocean? Seriously?"
"Sure do," Grandma replies, opening her car door. "You'll have a nice view of it from your bedroom too."
Prim and I exchange matching looks of astonishment.
I knew Maine bordered the ocean and figured we'd maybe take a trip to it eventually, but I never in a million years expected I'd be living within walking distance, let alone neighbor it. I'd think we were being pranked if our grandparents didn't seem so sincere.
We get out of the car, and I move to where Prim is standing, staring in awe of the ocean. I bring my arms around her from behind, clasping them at her chest, and rest my head atop of hers; she brings her hands up to cover mine. We're too speechless to say anything.
"There'll be plenty of time to look at the pond later," Grandma says with a chuckle. "Why don't you two come inside and see your new home?"
We nod and promptly follow them to the house. I'd been so distracted by the ocean, I didn't really look at it till now. It's absolutely stunning - I'd say it even rivals the Mellarks'. It's light blue, with the front porch, upper balcony, and frames around the windows and doors being white.
It seems far too big for just two people, but then it occurs to me that they once raised children here; one of which was my father. It never occurred to me before now that I'd be living in his childhood home, and the realization fills me with both joy and dread. I'm about to see everything he saw everyday growing up. I love my father, but after so many years of crying over his death and wishing he'd come back, I've tried my best not to think about him. It hurt too much.
Now, I'm going to be faced with reminders of him everywhere. I'm not talking about memorabilia, either. Literally everything here, I'm going to be thinking 'he stood in this very spot before, looking at the exact same thing.'
I'll just have to deal with it, though. This is my home now and I'm grateful for it, no matter how much nostalgia it awakens within me.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself as I enter the house.
The first thing I see is a staircase that leads to the upper floor, but when I walk a little further in, I find myself in a big living room. Though I've never been here before, it immediately gives me a familiar, cozy feeling.
There's a burgundy couch draped with a knitted blanket, and a reclining chair to match. End tables sit beside each, with lamps sitting upon them, and in front of the sofa is a coffee table with remotes and magazines scattered about. All this is centered around an old- fashioned wooden floor TV. What really catches my eye, though, are all the family photographs covering every inch of the walls and the top of the TV.
I walk into the center of the room and look around at them all, my eyes filling with tears.
I see pictures of my dad growing up, as well as family photos. I see vacations, birthdays, and graduations. I see my mom and dad's wedding, and even one of my dad sitting by my mom in a hospital bed, smiling as she holds me as a newborn. There are baby pictures of me and Prim, and school portraits.
There's even a photo of me in the school play. I spot another of myself, around two or three-years-old, building a sandcastle with my father by the ocean. We must have come here when I was younger, but I don't remember it at all.
I close my eyes, hoping something might resurface, but nothing comes forth.
There are pictures of other people as well. My aunt and her husband, along with what I assume are my cousins. Two girls, I notice. Judging by the progression of the pictures, they must be around the same ages of me and Prim now. I wonder if they live near here, and what they're like.
I move to the TV, picking up a framed portrait of them. The older girl is slightly on the chubby side, with her hair pulled up in a bun and a couple curlicues framing her face. The younger one is petite, with dozens of braids ending in multi- colored beads. They both have raven hair and brown eyes, and resemble my grandmother quite a bit. As they smile at the camera with their arms around each other, I get the impression they're as close as me and Prim.
"That's your cousins, Rhetta and Rue," Grandma confirms, resting a hand on my shoulder. "They only live a couple blocks from here, so you'll be meeting them soon enough. In fact, you'll probably be seeing Rue tomorrow. Rhetta's off at college now, but she'll be home in a couple months for winter break."
"They look really nice," Prim says from beside me. I'd been so enamored by the photos that I didn't even realize she was there.
"Oh, they're absolute sweethearts! I see you lot getting along great. Rue's the same age as you, and you'll be in the same class at school. She's really excited about that," Grandma tells Prim.
"I can't wait to meet her," she replies brightly.
"She feels that same exact way about you, dear," Grandma replies with a smile. "Well, how about I show you your bedrooms?"
"Bedrooms?" Prim asks in surprise. "We have our own...?"
Grandma nods before leading us to the stairs. As we climb them, Prim looks back at me with a wide-eyed, dumbfounded expression, as if asking me if this is really happening. All I can do is smile and shrug, feeling the same way she does. It's as if we took a plane to an alternate dimension or something.
When we reach the top, I see that our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a hallway, with a bathroom situated in between them. Grandma leads us to the bedroom on the right and opens the door.
It's painted light purple, with white trim, and has a hardwood floor. There's a big bay window on one wall and sliding glass doors on the opposite, which I assume leads to the balcony I saw outside. In the middle lies a huge queen-sized bed with multiple frilly pillows and a quilt with a design of purple and white flowers. I also spot a bare bookshelf, a closet door, and a dresser with a radio on it.
"These rooms have been empty for so long, it's good to see them finally being put to use," Grandma says as she opens the blinds in front of the glass doors, giving us a lovely view of the ocean. "We'll bring your cases up here in a bit and you can fix it up however you like. I'll leave it between you two to pick which one you want. They're basically just the same, only this one's purple and the other's blue."
"I call dibs on this one!" Prim states quickly. "It's really pretty. I like the color of it." She looks at me with pleading eyes and Grandma turns to me with her eyebrows raised to see if I'm okay with it.
I nod and reply, "Fine by me. I think it suits you."
It's true; as soon as I walked in here, the first thing I thought of was how much Prim would love it. Even before she said she wanted it, it felt like hers. I don't know what the other bedroom looks like, but it doesn't matter much to me. I'm just thankful to have a bed to sleep in. The only thing that makes me slightly anxious is that the other room obviously belonged to my father at one time. But seeing Prim happy is worth dealing with it.
A few minutes later, we head into my new room. Just as Grandma had said, it has the same exact layout as Prim's, only the walls are painted dark blue. I have a queen-sized bed as well, with a flannel cover in shades of blue, black, and gray. I'm overcome by so many emotions as I look around, it's overwhelming.
Putting aside the fact that this used to be my dad's bedroom, this is the first time in years that I have a room to myself. I can't even remember the last time I've slept without someone next to me. The room is beautiful, I'm grateful and certainly in awe of it, but... I can't help feeling a bit lonely already.
Prim stays in my room for about a minute before going back across the hall to admire hers a bit more. Grandma's just about to leave and make her way downstairs when she turns back to me as if suddenly remembering something.
"Oh! By the way, Avory Mellark's son called a few hours ago. He said his name was Peter, I believe? Anyways, he asked if I could have you call him as soon as you got in, to let him know you got here okay," Grandma tells me.
"Peeta," I correct with a nod, my stomach twisting in knots as I recall how distraught he was when I left. He must be worried sick by now. "Do you mind if I use your phone to call him back?"
"Well, of course I don't," she answers, beckoning me to follow her downstairs. "Tomorrow I'll get you and your sister put on the family plan so you can both have phones of your own. That way you can keep in contact with all your old friends."
As instinctual as it is for me to tell her she doesn't have to get me anything, I also know a phone of my own would allow me to call or text Peeta anytime I feel I need to. And if he's taught me anything, it's that I shouldn't be afraid of accepting things I need. So I simply reply with a meek, "Thank you."
She walks over to me and places a hand on my cheek, then kisses my forehead.
"No need to thank me, love. I have years of birthdays and Christmases to make up for, and so much more. I know this is a big bunch of changes for you. I just want you girls to be as happy as you can be," she tells me. "If you want anything, if you need to talk about things, I'm here. So is your grandpa. We're going to help you get through all this."
After retrieving Grandma's cell phone, I make my way back upstairs to my room and close the door behind me. I open the blinds in front of the glass doors, letting the light stream in, then sit down on my bed.
Taking a deep breath, I finally dial Peeta's number.
He answers midway through the very first ring.
"Katniss?"
"Yeah, it's me." My eyes immediately brim with tears at hearing how hoarse his voice is. "How are you doing?"
"Nevermind how I am; how are you? How was your flight? How is it there? How's Prim?" Peeta asks in a rush.
"The flight was scary at first, but it went well. And... it's actually pretty great here so far. We live right next to the ocean, and my grandparents are really nice. Prim loves it here already, especially since she has her own room," I tell him. "The only thing that'd make it perfect is if you were here with me."
"Believe me, I wish I was. It's so quiet here without you and Prim around... it's kind of haunting," he says, giving a small, strained chuckle. "It's really great that you like it there, though! That's such a relief to hear. I talked to your grandma earlier and she seems really nice. I'm just really happy that you guys are safe now."
He's trying to be positive, even though I can tell he's crying. I wish I could hug or kiss him, and it kills me that I can't. I don't even know how to console him, because there's nothing I can say that would make this any easier.
"We are, thanks to you," I reply softly, a tear rolling down my cheek. "You saved our lives, Peeta. Not only that, you made my life good again. I never thought it could be like this. And... we'll get through it, okay? Like you told me before, we've just got to tough it out for a while and then we can be happy together... for the rest of our lives."
"Hearing you talk like that is music to my ears. And you're absolutely right; we'll make it through this. I'll be there before you know it," Peeta says, and I can hear the smile in his tone. "And don't forget, you saved me too, Katniss. We saved each other."
I want to disagree by telling him that my part in 'saving him' was nothing other than blurting something out against my better judgment. He would've been free of his mother within a couple months without my help anyway. But I know he'd just disagree with me, and I don't really feel like arguing the point, so I simply change the subject.
"I have the perfect place to hang your painting," I say with a small smile, wiping my eyes. I stare at the bare wall beside my bed, envisioning it hanging there. I can already imagine the comfort it'll bring, seeing it every night when I fall asleep and each morning when I wake up. And it'll look amazing against the dark blue. "It's going on the wall right beside my bed so I can look at it all the time."
"That's great." I hear a muffled sniffle, and it makes me heart rise into my throat. "I can send you more, if you want? I'll probably be painting a lot more now..."
"I'd love for every inch of my walls to be covered with your art," I reply honestly. "I wish I had something to send you in return. Maybe I could look for a few seashells?"
"I'd love that!" he says brightly. "Also, if you ever feel up to it, I wouldn't object to a recording of your singing. Even if you just leave it as a voicemail. I'd listen to it all the time."
"I'll see what I can do about that. Grandma said she's getting me my own phone soon, so maybe I can leave you a few," I shrug, my face reddening. "I can't promise they'll sound any good, but—"
"I have no doubt that anything you sing will be amazing as always," he assures.
We talk for another thirty minutes or so, until Grandma gets a call from someone and I have to go. After exchanging I love yous, I tell him I'll call him again tomorrow, and then, with a heavy heart, I press the button that brings our conversation to an end.
Before I go downstairs, I sit in the silence of my bedroom and cry for a few minutes. I know we'll get through this, but that doesn't make it any less heartbreaking. Hearing his voice is wonderful, but it doesn't match seeing his face, melting into his embrace, or the feeling of his lips upon mine.
Maybe it'll get better with time, perhaps it'll feel worse. All I know is, right now, it hurts like hell.
I spend the evening downstairs with my grandparents and Prim. Seeing my sister so happy fills me with a much needed boost of positivity and helps me feel a lot better.
Grandma makes a delicious meatloaf, and we all eat dinner together in the living room, listening to her as she recalls fond memories of us when we were younger. I ask her about the picture on the wall of me and my father building a sandcastle, and she confirms that I'd come here when I was a toddler, as well as on my first birthday.
With a smile on her face, she retrieves a photo album and shows me a picture of myself in a diaper, sitting on the kitchen table. I have two fistfuls of chocolate cake and my face is smeared with icing. She laughs as she tells me how, when I was presented with a cake on my birthday, I dug my hands in and happily began throwing it at everybody.
I can see the disappointment on Prim's face when she asks if she ever came here before, and Grandma tells her no. She explains that Dad began working in the mines shortly before Prim's birth because it paid more money, but it kept him busy and didn't give him spare time to travel.
Prim's smile returns, however, when Grandma says that it didn't stop them from taking trips to see us. She then flips to another page of the photo album, showing us a picture of Prim with her first cake. She's all rosy cheeks and blond curlicues, and neat as can be. She apparently had the opposite reaction I'd had, and only poked the cake with her chubby baby fingers and ate the icing off of them with glee.
I also learned that it's an Everdeen family tradition to present a child a cake of their own on their first birthday. I can't help thinking how supportive Peeta would be to adhere to that.
Though I don't say anything of my thoughts out loud, it obviously occurs to Prim as well, because she states in a way that's not subtle at all, "Katniss is going to marry a guy that makes the best cakes ever, you know. He's a baker. We were living with him before we came here."
"Is that so?" Grandma smiles, raising her eyebrows at me. I nod, my face burning as I avoid everyone's eyes.
I only just got here, and I'm in no quick hurry to divulge my future plans with my grandparents just yet. I don't know them well enough to predict how they'd react. I'm so used to parenting myself and doing things of my own accord, having parental figures in my life again will take a bit of getting used to.
Luckily, Grandma doesn't question me any further about it, and we continue listening as she flips through the photo album and tells us little stories behind each one.
I can't sleep.
I lay in the bed that was once my father's, staring at the walls he used to see every day. I listen to the soothing rhythm of the ocean tide outside, but it does nothing to stop my mind from racing.
How in the world do my grandparents cope with the constant reminders of loss? They only had two children - my aunt and my father, who both died years ago. How do they survive it and manage to remain happy, especially when it comes to seeing photos of them on the walls every day? And I know that every inch of this house must hold memories of them. I can't imagine how it'd feel to raise children, only to have them die before you. I don't know if I'd be able to go on afterwards. It'd probably be the death of me.
I also want to text Peeta because I can't seem to stop worrying about him, but it has to be past midnight by now and I don't want to wake my grandma up to use her phone. It's only been a day of being separated, and I already feel the distance weighing upon my shoulders like a ton of bricks. Especially now. The bed seems too big and too empty. And although the room is warm, I feel incredibly cold.
Startled out of my thoughts, I sit up quickly as the door creaks open.
I relax, however, when a blond head appears and steps in. Prim stands in my doorway, clad in a long, pink nightgown, clutching the teddy bear that Peeta had given her.
"Katniss?" she asks timidly, chewing on her bottom lip. "Can I sleep in here with you? Just for tonight."
"Of course you can," I reply, patting the space beside me. She quickly closes the door and makes her way over.
"Thanks," she says, climbing into bed and pulling the blanket up to her chest. "I love my new room and having a bed all to myself. I just don't want to be alone just yet."
I nod and lay back down, propping my head upon my elbow to look down at her. Smiling faintly, I reach over and tuck a tendril of hair from her forehead.
"Me neither. It'll take some getting used to."
"Grandma and Grandpa are really nice, though, and it's so beautiful here. I think we're going to like it here a lot," she muses softly, closing her eyes. "I kind of feel like I'll wake up and this'll all just be a dream. We got away, Katniss. We finally got away."
"Yes, we did..." I whisper.
To think about all we've been through and how far we've come, to hear the words spoken aloud, that we finally got away... it's surreal. As Prim said, it feels like a dream, like I'll be pinched at any moment and wake up in the trailer again.
Half of me is still in denial, feeling as if this will all be short-lived, but the other half is grasping onto the possibility that we're finally home; that all the chaos is behind us, and we can now live in peace and dare to hope.
"I can't wait to be normal," Prim sighs after a moment.
"You've always been normal," I assert.
She shakes her head and opens her eyes. "No, I mean... to live a normal life. To go to a normal school and make normal friends. All my life, I've had to keep secrets and be quiet. I've had to be afraid. I don't want to be like that anymore. I feel like I can finally be me."
"It's a brand new start," I say as I lay my head down on the pillow. "I wouldn't go telling people about where we came from and why we're here, though."
"Of course not. I don't want people knowing about any of that," she replies.
"They're going to ask why we moved here, you know."
"I'll just tell them my dad died and my mom got sick so I came to live with my grandparents. It's not a lie. They don't need to know anything else," she shrugs.
"Right," I nod, thankful that we're on the same page. If this is truly to be a new beginning, it'd be counterproductive to bring the past along and allow it to distort the way people view us.
"We can be anything here, Katniss. You can be anyone," she whispers thoughtfully, closing her eyes.
I stare at her for a moment, trying to think of something to say. Nothing comes to mind, however, so I finally close my eyes and try to find sleep as well.
She's right; I can be anyone I want to be here. The problem is, I don't know how to be any different. For so many years, I'd built my life upon the simple goal of survival, of taking care of Mom and Prim. Who am I now? Mom is in a hospital, Prim has our grandparents, and the responsibilities I had before no longer exist.
I'm free to be me, just me, but I don't exactly know who that is anymore.