Chapter 12: Before and After You
Mother hadn't lied.
I have to consume the tea several times for a couple days—Mother even wakes me up at certain intervals during the night to drink—until I start bleeding. The abdominal and uterine cramps I suffer are intense and debilitating, and I stay in bed for days, crying and writhing in pain, dry heaving and puking occasionally into a bucket. Mother keeps an eye on my temperature, often pressing cool rags to my forehead and neck, and she checks my menstrual rags for me as I have no idea what to look for.
After about a week, as she helps me back into bed from the bathroom, Mother murmurs, "It looks like it worked." She brushes some of my hair off my sweaty forehead. "You should be okay now."
I'm not so sure. I roll over and close my eyes, so she leaves me to sleep. I thought I'd feel more relief; I didn't expect the rush of sadness. A few fat tears squeeze out from my closed eyelids, rolling down my cheeks, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my sob. The physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil; I don't understand why I feel so heartbroken.
I always knew that, if I were to find myself pregnant, this would happen. But I'd been far removed from the reality when I'd made up my mind then; in theory, it wasn't so scary, so finite, so consuming. What I've done in the past, the precautions I've taken, they had not been as real as what I've just done. Before, I've only prevented implantation, possibly, if that. This time, I've actually terminated a pregnancy. It had been a fetus conceived in the throes of an illicit affair, one I did not want—but it had been Peeta's. And he has no idea.
A sob rips from my throat, and I smother my cries in my pillow. Oh, Snow, I know it was the right thing to do; I know it is what I want. But it still hurts like hell.
I've really made a mess of things. I suppose this is the punishment I deserve for my transgressions.
Mother told me to take it easy for another week, but she needn't have bothered. I can't bring myself to leave the bed. I feel weak and tired and utterly disheartened. I alternate between sleeping and staring at the wall blankly. Mother has to force-feed me, insisting it's important that I heal my body. But without hunting and bringing in game, we don't really have anything to properly nourish my body back to health. So Mother makes me broth and has Prim bring over some food. Fortunately, Mother's promised not to tell my sister what happened and makes up some excuse about me having the flu.
Prim sits with me and chats about Aster and her work, and I listen and smile weakly, but I don't really have the energy to respond. Sometimes, I just pretend to be asleep when my sister stops by. It's easier than having to pretend I'm fine.
I'm deep asleep when I'm roused by a comforting touch on my forehead. I assume it's Mother, or even Prim, so I burrow further under the covers, determined to ignore the person stroking my hair, until I catch a whiff of something familiar.
Cinnamon and dill.
My eyes flutter open, and I find myself staring into Peeta's blue eyes. He's sitting in a chair next to my bed. "What..." I croak, blinking in confusion. He smiles softly at me, pulling his hand back. But before he can answer, my mother, who stands behind him, speaks first.
"I brought him here. I thought it might be good for you," she explains carefully. "I'll let you two talk." She leaves the room, and Peeta clears his throat. I finally notice how red his eyes are, as if he has been crying recently. My heart falls.
"She told you," I whisper accusingly. When he nods, I moan pitifully, drawing away from him, and a fresh round of tears hits me.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad. Please, don't think I'm mad. Don't be upset," he pleads, his voice thick with his own tears, and his tone reminds me of how he pleaded with me not to run before he kissed me again and I kissed him back and then took him into the woods to suck him off. He reaches out again to touch my face, his palm cupping my face as his thumb wipes away my tears.
I whimper. "How can you not be mad at me? You can't—you can't have children with—and I just..." I bite down hard on my lip. He purses his own, his eyes watering, but he smiles tearfully at me, a small one, like he is trying to reassure me.
"You don't want kids. I...that's probably the least complicated aspect about this whole situation, really. But I understand why you did what you did. I would never hold that against you." I screw my eyes shut, and he goes back to stroking my hair. "I'm just worried about you. What you must be going through..." He sighs heavily. "I'm so sorry about Analise. I didn't know she had found the picture. It was unforgivably careless of me...I didn't know she'd gone to your house until after. And I didn't know where you'd gone to, at first. Then, I figured it was probably best that I left you alone while you and Gale..." he trails off, unsure, and I blink my eyes open.
"He kicked me out," I say hoarsely. "He won't even talk to me right now."
Frowning, Peeta arches an eyebrow. "Guess he did enough talking to me."
My eyes widen. "He talked to you?"
"Well, his fists did, anyway." I gasp and then groan, turning my face into the pillow. "I deserved it," he adds, as if that's some kind of consolation. "After what I'd done, I figured I should let him get in a couple good punches. Rye pulled him off me, but for a few days I had a nice bruise on my jaw to go with the shiner Analise gave me."
I look at him in abject horror. "Oh, my God. How can you—how can you joke about it like that?"
He gives me a look. "Sorry," he murmurs, running his thumb along my eyebrow. "Guess I learned how to take a hit in stride a long time ago."
My lip quivers, and he brushes away another tear that pools in the corner of my eye. "I'm so sorry. I really fucked this up," I whisper.
"I think it's safe to say we both did."
We're quiet for a moment before Peeta speaks again. "I wish...I wish things could have been different for us," he says quietly, and I look at him. The tired resignation on his face makes me ache.
"You're staying with her, aren't you?" I murmur, but it isn't really a question, and I shouldn't sound so surly about it. He drops his gaze for the first time since I awoke, clasping his hands together.
"I have to...I have to at least try, Katniss. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to fix this," he says quietly.
"Even though she hits you?" I retort, and he sighs, shifting uncomfortably.
"We've both hurt each other now, so I guess the playing field's been leveled."
I look away, not even able to muster up the right kind of rage at his statement. He doesn't deserve the abuse, but I guess we all have to pay for our sins in whatever way others see fit. "Did you know my mother and your father used to date?" I ask lightly, changing the conversation, and he looks amused.
"I did."
That surprises me. "Really? How did you know?"
"My dad told me, a long time ago. When I was 5, actually." He smiles, sheepish. "That was the first time I ever saw you. I was smitten with you the moment I heard you sing the Valley Song in class."
My throat closes up at his confession, at how eerily it mirrors my parents' story. "How come—how come you didn't tell me you knew?"
He shrugs. "It never came up." He squints at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You Everdeen women sure have a thing for bakers and coalminers." I don't know if I want to laugh or cry, and he coughs, noticing my distress. "Sorry, I shouldn't joke right now."
I'm glad he hasn't lost his sense of humor, at least. I just feel broken.
Smoothing my hair down again, Peeta looks at me pensively. "I think about it all the time, you know. What would have happened if I'd been a little braver back then, if I'd just talked to you. What would have happened if I'd just told you how I felt...Maybe in another time, another world, things would have worked out differently for us."
But I shake my head. "Even if they had, you would have grown to hate me, too. Just like Gale. I still wouldn't have wanted kids, and you'd come to resent me for it, eventually."
Unexpectedly, he smiles at me, such a sad smile that it breaks my heart. Tears pool in his eyes, spilling over. "If it was you? I could bear it. As long as I had you."
My vision blurs, and I tuck my chin to my chest, inhaling shakily. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead, then he whispers in my ear, "I love you, Katniss. Please, don't ever forget that."
He starts to pull away, and I'm seized with panic, my hand shooting out to grab his hand. "Please. Stay with me, just a little longer, please," I choke out on a sob. His face softens, the pain raw in his eyes.
"Always," he murmurs.
But I know it is a lie.
I'm eating lunch in the kitchen while Mother makes some tea when someone knocks on the door. We exchange wary glances; Mother doesn't have many visitors. Taking the kettle off the stove, she crosses to the door to answer it.
"Hi, Florence. How are you doing?"
I clench the spoon in my hand, fear stiffening my body at the sound of my husband's voice.
"Gale, hello. It's good to see you. Come in."
Mother steps aside to let him in, and my breath hitches at the sight of him. He's always been a handsome man, but, before the past month, I had gotten used to seeing him every day. His hair falls across his forehead, and the dark smudges under his eyes hint at his exhaustion. When he looks at me, his mouth tightens and I want to drop my head in shame. "Hello," he murmurs, and I nod my head in greeting, setting my spoon down carefully.
Mother glances between me and her son-in-law, then moves to grab her sweater. "I think I'll go visit Prim for a little while, give you two time to talk," she says on her way out.
Gale clears his throat, inching closer. "Well...you look like shit," he muses, but his tone isn't completely mean. I grimace. My natural response of "So do you" seems misplaced at the moment; I don't know how humorous he's feeling right then.
"I've been feeling like it," I say instead, and he pulls out a chair to sit in. He's quiet for a moment, and I struggle for something to say. "I, uh...how are you?"
He gives me a look, running a hand through his hair. "Been better." I nod, dropping my gaze to the table, despondent. "Sorry it's taken me so long to talk to you. I just needed some time to think."
I chew on my lip, scratching at a wood grain in the table with my fingernail. "I understand," I murmur. "I—I'm so sorry, Gale. I'm sorry I hurt you."
"But not sorry you did it."
I look at him sharply, my mouth parting in protest. "I—of course, I am," I say stubbornly, but he shakes his head.
"I've known you a long time, Catn—Katniss," he replies, his eyes narrowing. "And I've never known you to do something you didn't want to do."
My eyes were wide, and I look away, swallowing. What can I possibly say to that? "I'm still, I'm still sorry. For all of it. You...you are the last person I ever wanted to hurt. But I did. And I don't know how to fix it."
He doesn't respond at first. "I don't think you can," he says finally, and I close my eyes. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. About you. About us. Things haven't been too good with us, have they? For a while."
I shake my head. "No, they haven't," I agree quietly. Gale sighs.
"Were you ever happy? Did I ever make you happy?"
"Of course, you did!" I say urgently. "I was happy! I was happy for a while, I just..."
"Then why did you do it?" he demands, his eyes flashing angrily. "Why?"
I don't know how to answer that question, at least in a way that would appease him. I had wanted Peeta; I had only been thinking about myself. And maybe, maybe I had wanted to get caught, to bring everything to a crisis. Because I was too cowardly to just say I wanted out. "I don't know, Gale. I guess because I'm a lying, selfish, miserable bitch," I parrot his words from before.
He huffs, his eyes flicking away from mine. "I don't feel like I even know who you are anymore," he mutters "And maybe I never did. Or maybe I knew, deep down, but I just thought I could change you. I thought loving you would be enough."
Ashamed, I drop my head again. He continues after a moment, "I thought about sleeping with someone else. To get back at you. I almost did."
I purse my lips, trying to quell the hurt. "Why didn't you? I wouldn't have blamed you if you had," I whisper.
He sighs. "Probably because of that. Because it wouldn't have mattered to you. Because it's probably what you wanted. It would have made us even, but then I'd be no better than you."
I flinch. He doesn't think he knows me, but it sounds like he understands me perfectly.
"Did you ever love me?" he asks, defeated, and I look up at him, my eyes watering.
"I did. I swear I did. I loved you a lot. I still do. I just..."
Gale nods, and he blinks furiously against his own tears. He doesn't say anything for a moment, then he pulls some papers out of his back pocket. Unfolding the document, he slides it across the table toward me. My heart stops when I read the big, bold words up top:
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage
My wide eyes dart between his face and the paper. He just watches me solemnly. I read further: "The petitioner GALE HAWTHORNE states that the marriage between petitioner and respondent KATNISS HAWTHORNE has been irretrievably broken on the grounds of ADULTERY."
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, my heart racing. The word ADULTERY rages inside my head. "This is—are you sure this is what you want?" I croak, my voice strained. He gives me a tired look.
"I think this is what we both want," he answers resolutely. Nodding in resignation, I wipe at my tears and flip through the rest of the pages, not really seeing. "The petition states that I would retain the house. Nothing personal, it's just standard Justice Building policy," he mutters.
I swallow against the lump in my throat. "That's—that's fine. I would, I'd want you to keep it, anyway," I say miserably, rubbing the back of my hand across my nose. "Do you have a pen?"
He pulls one out of his pocket and hands it to me. My hand trembles as I take it from him and flip to the page requiring my signature. He's already signed. With a deep breath, I scribble my name and date it. Then I slide it back across the table to him. Gale hastily brushes at his eyes and folds the document up, stuffing it in his pocket.
"I'm so sorry," I say again, meeting his gaze. "I really, really am. I hope...I hope you find someone who will give you the love and happiness you deserve."
My…. ex-husband stands up, his brow furrowed in deliberation. "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for, Katniss," he says. I peer up at him.
"Do you—do you think you could ever forgive me?" I ask meekly, not sure it's even my place to ask but already sure I know the answer; I have to know, have to hear him say it.
The look he gives me is devastating. "No," he says honestly, the pain thick, and then he is gone. I'm not sure how long I sit at the kitchen table, tears running down my cheeks. I'm barely aware of Mother returning, Prim in tow, until my sister crouches at my side.
"Katty?" she asks timidly, and I can't stifle my sob.
"Gale, he—he filed for divorce," I gasp, and Prim just holds onto me while I cry.
It's done. It's over. Somehow, I knew this was going to happen; this is how it was meant to be. I'm alone, just like I always figured I would be. Just like I deserve to be.
Moving on with my life has been tough. Gale and I were officially divorced on October 23 of this year, and I moved back in with my mother. The day I went back to my old house to move my stuff, Gale had been there to help me. Things were tense and awkward between us, and I ached to know that I've lost such an important person in my life—not just him but all of the Hawthornes—but I know I only have myself to blame. I figure it's at least promising that Gale bothered to help me move. I see him around the Seam and the Hob periodically after that, and he just nods stiffly at me in passing; I hear talk of him dating and occasionally see him keeping company with a couple different women. It hurts to see, but I hope he is happy, at least.
I still have my business in the Hob, but I mainly steer clear of Town. The Merchants haven't been too forgiving of what I did, soiling a Merchant marriage, as they probably see it, and they aren't really willing to trade with me anymore. They still want my meat, however, so I have Mother take it to the few Merchants who still begrudgingly offer her their products in exchange for a fresh kill. I know it's cowardly of me to avoid them, but I still need time to heal. And more than anything, I want to avoid seeing Peeta. Getting over him would be much harder if I have to be constantly reminded of what I lost. I have no idea how he and Analise are doing; I don't ask anyone, and no one offers any news.
I'm glad for that.
The only thing I can't completely avoid is the Meadow. I cross through it every time I go to hunt, and my still-mending heart shatters just a little bit every time.
It's summer again, and the Meadow is now lush and full. The yellow blooms of dandelions dot the green field, and I stop to survey it as I wander home from a hunting trip. For the first time in nearly a year, I feel at ease. Leaving the woods, I amble farther out into the Meadow and set my game bag down. A warm breeze kisses my face, rustling the fine hairs around my neck and my forehead. Taking a deep breath of the clean air, I sit down in the tall grass. After a few minutes, I reach up and pull the elastic band out of my hair, combing my nimble fingers through my long tresses to work out the braid. With a sigh, I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean back on my hands. Then I stare out across the Meadow, over the softly rolling hills that slope back into the woods in the distance, the boundaries of the district delineated by the fence that stretches all the way around.
I hear rustling behind me, and my body tenses, ready to flee. My mouth goes dry suddenly, and I'm too afraid to turn around.
"Finally letting your hair down?"
His voice. After all this time, I didn't expect my body to react so strongly to just the sound of his voice. But a chill runs up my spine, and my heart flutters painfully. I swallow, but I don't look at him until he sits down beside me.
Peeta smiles at me, and breathing is impossible. He's as gorgeous as ever, his golden curls lustrous, his blue eyes bright, his strong jawline shrouded by his ever-present blonde scruff.
"Thought it was a nice day to feel the wind in my hair," I murmur when I finally find my voice. He nods thoughtfully. "What are you doing here?" I can't help but ask.
He smiles again, a shy one this time. "Thought it was a nice day to feel the wind in my hair," he echoes back to me in a dry quip. I look away from him. "How have you been?"
That's a loaded question. I squint, peering into the distance. "As well as to be expected, I guess," I say guardedly, keeping my eyes trained on the Meadow. "You?"
He sighs. "Better than I have been."
I lift my eyebrows and hum noncommittally. "That's good. And—how is Analise?" I ask after a pause.
Peeta doesn't answer for a moment, and I have to fight the urge to look at him. "She's going to be fine, I think," he says, his voice low. "We're not together anymore. The divorce was finalized last week. I've been staying at Rye's until I can get my own place. She's pretty...upset. With me. But I think we both knew it was coming a while ago."
I lick my lips, not sure how the news makes me feel. "I'm...sorry it didn't work out," I mutter uneasily, my brow furrowed.
"It's okay. I gave it a try. I had to," he replies, looking down at the grass as he yanks out a few blades. "But I was just fooling myself. I think I am simply and utterly doomed to be hopelessly in love with only one woman for the rest of my life." My heart skips a beat, and my eyes widen, but I don't dare look at him.
"Oh?" I rasp for lack of a better response, and he sighs loudly.
"Yeah. I can only hope she's willing to forgive the unbelievable extent of my stupidity this last year, though I wouldn't blame her if she was ready to be done with me completely. I'm not entirely sure I'm worth the trouble," he says sincerely, a little glum.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing nervously. Then I steel my resolve and take a deep breath. "She might be willing...if you brought her some cheese buns."
Peeta laughs then, a hearty sound that resonates from his belly. I look at him, and his eyes sparkle at me, the corners crinkled in relief. At the sight, I feel a responding tug in the pit of my stomach. "I'll see what I can do, Katniss," he says, tugging up a bright yellow dandelion from the ground. He twirls it between his fingers, then he reaches up and tucks it behind my ear, flashing me a heart-stopping grin.
And I smile.
