Chapter 57
I'm stunned speechless practically when I arrive to work the next morning and find Haymitch at his desk already. And he's fully awake, and clean shaven.
"Morning princess."
"Who are you and what have you done with the real Haymitch?" I ask with a teasing laugh.
"Not sure what you mean by that but I'm gonna choose to ignore it. Have a seat, I got something for you." He replies with mock offense.
I slide out the chair across from his desk and take a seat as he slides a metal box towards me.
"What is it?" I ask peering at the box.
"It's what I spent half the day hunting down yesterday. I knew it was here, she told me so years ago, but it took some searching to actually get my hands on it."
"She who? And what is it?" I ask, starting to feel like I've missed half a conversation that hasn't even happened.
"Your mom. It's for you. Not sure what exactly is in there, just know that she told me years ago, right when she found out she was sick, that she sent something here for you, just in case you ever made it here. I promised I'd get it to you if I happened to be here too or if I could get word to anyone here to give it to you."
I stare at the box, mouth partially hanging open. My mother sent this here for me? She left me something? Tears brim my eyes and I blink them back quickly, not wanting my emotions to spill out all over the place. I look up to Haymitch. "There's so much I don't know about her. I never would've imagined that she left me father said she didn't leave anything specifically for me."
"Well she wouldn't have left anything with your father, that's for certain. He probably wouldn't have given it to you even if she had. Anyhow, you take this. Whatever it is, she wanted you to have it."
I place my hands on the metal box and again have to fight back tears.
"Now go on and get outta here. You've gotta be itching to open it. Take it somewhere private." He says, waving me away with his hand.
"But I'm supposed to work until 5." I say, my voice cracking.
He chokes back a laugh. "Well as my assistant, I need you to take that box somewhere private and go through it alone. That's an order, now get to it." He says.
I smile and nod. "Thanks Haymitch."
I take the box, hugging it to my chest and go back to my unit. Gale's at work so I've got the room all to myself. I sit on the bed and stare at the box for a moment before I take in a deep breath and remove the lid. Inside I find letters, pictures and a little velvet jewelry box.
The pictures are old and faded but they're of a very pretty girl and some boy. in the first one, she's on his back and laughing, head tilted back. His face is turned away from the camera so I can't really see it but the girl is definetly my mother. I assume the boy is my father, perhaps before he totally grew up and became such a tyrant. Perhaps he was young and fun at some point in his life. The next photo is of my very pregnant mother barefoot on the back porch of our house, in a red sundress, hands holding her belly. I smile and trail my finger over the edge of the photo. She looked so happy. The next is a photo of her kissing the same boy from the earlier picture. Again, I can't really see his face much, her blonde curls hiding most of his face, but since she's kissing him, I assume it's my father. She looks too old for it to have been before the matching ceremony would've happened. The next picture, she's young. Much younger than the other pictures. Maybe 14 or 15. She's in a fancy dress but at a bonfire party like the kind they throw in the Seam sometimes, arms linked with some girl I don't recognize and both of them are bent over laughing. She looks so incredibly happy in each picture. I don't have many memories of her because she got sick so soon after I was born but I definetly don't recall her ever looking as happy as she does in these pictures. I set the photos aside and pick up the letters.
The first is addressed to me. A lump forms in my throat as soon as I read my name written in my mother's elegant script.
Dear Madge,
It's so hard to write this letter because it means I'm finally accepting that this is the end for me. I've been sick for almost all your short life and it's getting worse by the day. My days with you are numbered now and there's so much I want you to know and none of it are you actually old enough to hear yet. So, I'm writing this letter and all I can do is hope that one day it will find it's way into your hands. First, I want you to know that you were always my greatest accomplishment in life, my greatest source of pride. Being your mother, I had so many dreams of all the things we would do together as you grew up and I'm so sorry this sickness has made it all impossible. I hope your days have been filled with adventure and your thoughts filled with dreams. I hope you fall in love and experience what that really feels like. I hope you're confident and brave, fearless even. I hope you're a free thinker but also pray that you're wise enough not to let it get you into trouble. I hope your heart is kind and your character admirable. Most of all, I hope you know how much I love you.
As young as you are, I am certain you won't remember much about me and I'm working to accept that fact. I also know that the man you call father won't share much about me, not that he ever really took the time to get to know me anyway. So that's what the pictures are for. For you to see with your own eyes what my life was like. Not the life I lived under the Capitol's command, but the life I created for myself when no one was paying any attention. The secret life where I actually felt like I was living. From a very early age I felt myself rebelling against what was expected of me. I wanted something different. So I went and got it. I had friends outside of those in town. Best friends. Friends I made memories with, shared secrets with, laughed and cried with. I spent the majority of my teenage years down in the Seam with some of the best people I've ever met. And during those years, I fell in love with the boy who I wish I could have married. A boy who deserved someone he could openly be with but loved me enough to be with me in secret when that's all I could offer him. He's the boy in these photographs, even though you can't see his face. He stayed with me even after I was matched, even after his own life was drastically changed in unthinkable ways. He stayed with me even when I couldn't tell anyone you were his. And oh how I longed to tell the world the truth. He deserved to have the honor of being your father but Capitol constrictions would never let us be together, would never let us be the family I wanted us to be. I'm so sorry for that. It would've been such a different life for you if that had been possible. Still, I want you to know that your real father loved you so much, even if he couldn't openly be there with us.
Being a free thinker myself, I discovered that the former District of 13 was still in existence and I managed to become an informant for them. It was daring and could've been the death of me had I ever been discovered but thankfully, I wasn't. Honestly, I'd hoped that one day I would be able to leave Panem and start a new life in 13. It was too complicated and too dangerous though to attempt it once I was married to your father. The Capitol would never have let my disappearance go without question and I would've taken you with me as well and that certainly wouldn't have gone unnoticed. So I did my best to be satisfied with merely being an informant and helping others to escape. My hope now is that one day you will find your way to 13. I hope that you're there now as you read this letter. That's where I'm sending this for you anyway so I suppose you won't be reading it otherwise.
And lastly, I'm leaving you a ring. My most valued possession. At a glance it won't look like anything spectacular, quite simple actually, especially compared to the jewelry you'll be used to wearing. But it is spectacular. It's the ring your real father gave to me when we married one another in secret, just before my matching ceremony was to happen. See, we knew we couldn't publicly marry since as an heir, I was already spoken for but we also knew that the love we felt for one another was as real and true as any love could be so we sealed that bond in a private ceremony. And as far as I'm concerned, he will always be the only man to ever have my heart, to ever know my love. So take this ring and let it remind you that true love conquers all, even in the most challenging of circumstances. My hope is that you treasure it as much as I treasure the man who gave it to me.
Please know that for what it's worth, I wish I could have been there to watch you grow up. Know that I loved you with all that I had and that you made my life complete.
My love forever,
Mother
I let the letter fall to my lap as the tears fall freely down my cheeks. I can't believe the words I just read. My father wasn't actually my father? So who was this man my mother loved so much? Who was this man who loved her even when he couldn't really be with her? I pick up the little velvet jewelry box and open it to reveal the ring she left me. It's handcrafted, not something you'd find in a Panem jewelry store. It's pretty though, made of some sort of hammered metal I think. I go to slip it on my finger and it glides effortlessly on, fitting me almost perfectly. I smile as the tears continue to fall. Her hands must've been the same size as mine are.
I have to go back and talk to Haymitch. He has to know something more about who my real father was, about who this man was that she loved so much. I wipe the tears from my face, grab the picture of my mother on the man's back and hurry back to his office, leaving the letter and other pictures on my bed. I tap my foot anxiously as I wait for the elevator to carry me to the floor where the Defense Center is. I need to see him now and this elevator seems to be stopping on every single floor on the way and it's driving me crazy! When I finally get there, I throw open the door to his office and find myself startling him awake.
"Sorry, I need to talk to you though!" I say apologetically as he blinks and rubs his face.
"What is it?" He asks, half yawning as he does.
"Who is this man?" I ask as I slide the photo towards him.
He stares at the picture, eventually sliding it closer towards him and then picking it up. I wait so impatiently as he studies the picture.
"She sure was beautiful, wasn't she?" He says, eyes still on the picture.
Annoyance begins to fill me as I don't have time to hear about how pretty she was, I need to figure out who this man is because he is my father. "Yes, she was. But I need to know who this man is. I need to know who gave her this ring!" I say urgently as I slide the ring off and put it on the desk next to the picture.
Again, he just stares at it. No words or answers coming out of his mouth.
"Haymitch, do you know who gave her this ring?" I ask again, fighting my annoyance at how hard he can be to have a conversation with.
He pauses, staring at me now and then very slowly holds up his own hand and points to a ring on his finger that looks just like the one on the desk. "I did." He says quietly.
I gasp and stare, unable to utter a single word. My mind reeling at this newfound information. My mother was in love with Haymitch Abernathy. And Haymitch is my real father.