The month of May continues on and the days grow steadily warmer. Our routine remains about the same; Peeta and I spend our days either working on the book together or going our separate ways, with me hunting and him painting or testing out new recipes for baked goods.
Haymitch will sit on his back porch for hours, nursing a drink and watching the geese. The three of us eat dinner together, and Peeta and I spend our nights alone together. Our hands repeat their wanderings, but we don't go any further than that. There's no rush. For one of the first times either of us can remember, there isn't a ticking clock on our lives. We take our time with each other because we can. It's liberating.
On the final Monday of the month, election day arrives. Today, each district in the new Panem will vote to elect their mayor and three senators. Typically the president will be elected on this day as well, but since Paylor was just appointed a matter of months ago by the emergency special election there isn't any need. Each of us will vote today on special machines that have been set up temporarily outside the Justice Building, and tonight the results will be announced on the news.
When I wake up on Monday morning Peeta has already left bed. I throw on some clothes and walk downstairs groggily. We were up late the night before. I see Peeta in my kitchen fixing me a cup of coffee with milk and sugar.
"Good morning beautiful," he says, sliding the mug towards me. I roll my eyes but sip it happily. He drinks his own unsweetened cup and starts making eggs.
"Big day today," he says.
"Yeah, it is," I say, still tired.
"How do you feel about it all?" he asks. I ponder this for a moment. I hadn't thought all that much about the way this all makes me feel.
"I'm excited, mostly," I say, truthfully. "I'm happy to be able to do this. But I'm a little...I don't know what the right word is exactly. Nervous, I guess. It's just...this day, this whole process of electing government, this is what we fought for. This is what they died for. If it doesn't work, or it does help...I don't know. It just feels like there's a lot riding on this. But I'm still excited to do it."
"That makes sense," he says. "I feel pretty much the same way. I think it's a good thing, though. Even the nerves and the risk, it means there's the possibility of something good. It means that we get a say, and that nothing is permanent. That's already so much better."
Peeta's way with words is unfailing. Everything he's said is simple, but the way he's put it all together makes me feel so much better than anything I could have come up with in my own head. I move so I'm standing directly behind him while he works at the stove, and wrap my arms around him. I kiss his neck and nip his ear. He turns and catches my lips briefly before turning his attention back to the eggs.
We eat relatively quickly before heading out to wake Haymitch and drag him along to the polls with us. I pound on his front door with more force than would be necessary to get the attention of most people, but since I know this is probably his wake up call I want to make sure he can't miss it.
"Haymitch!" I yell, still pounding my fist against the wood of his door. "Haymitch! Come on!" He pulls open the door, looking thoroughly furious at me. His hair is greasy and pushed onto one side of his face, his clothes smell of liquor, and the hand that isn't on the doorknob is holding his knife. I don't know what prompted it, but it's clear that he lost himself in liquor last night. Even though he's generally been doing better, he still gets like this. I don't know if he'll ever be able to fully stop it.
"Why on earth is it necessary for you to be so goddamn loud?" he asks me, rubbing his eyes.
"You needed to wake up, it's election day. You told us to get you," I remind him.
"Oh, right," he says. He slips on the shoes that are right inside his door and then comes out, shutting the door behind him and not bothering to change his clothes or run a comb through his hair. The three of us head into town. People are already queued up when we reach the Justice Building. We take spots in line right behind Delly.
"Oh hello you three!" she says, entirely too chipper. "Isn't this just so exciting? I never thought I'd get to have a say like this. It's just incredible."
She continues gushing on about how exciting our new government is, and while she is overwhelmingly overenthusiastic, I do understand a lot of where she's coming from. This is so, entirely different from everything we grew up knowing. It is exciting. To me, there's a certain amount of fear ingrained in that excitement, as there is in anything that lacks certainty, but to someone like Delly it is nothing but a sunny opportunity.
Within about a half an hour, we reach the front of the line. I take my spot in front of one of the voting machines, while Peeta and Haymitch take the ones on either side of me. The first question on screen asks me to select one name for mayor. There's a list of three or four people who have thrown their names in, but I click on Thom's name without a second thought. There isn't a better choice for the job.
The next question allows me to select three names for the senatorial election. There's about 10 or so names on this list. Many of them I recognize as belonging to residents of 12 from before the war, but some are names I don't recognize. They must belong to people who moved here from other districts once the fighting was over. One or two of them are vaguely familiar to me, I think I likely saw them on lists of soldiers in 13. Several others are completely unfamiliar.
I vote for Bristel right away, I always liked her. She's hardworking and dedicated to everything she does. I choose Alon's name quickly as well. I didn't know him well, he was a merchant who I think worked as a tailor, but Peeta speaks highly of him. Apparently he lost his whole family in the firebombing, including his three young children, but he came back to help rebuild anyways. I'm not really sure who I want to give my final vote to. One of the two names who I think is from 13 sounds very familiar to me, although I can't quite recall where I might know him from. On a whim, I decide to vote for him.
There is no love lost between me and anyone in 13. I hated almost every moment of my time there, and I know there are still some who are loyal to Coin and loathe me for killing her. But if I only vote for people from 12 just because they're from 12, and I don't give people who made the choice to come here the chance to make it better, then the districts are still divided.
I look over my choices one more time before pressing the submit button, and just like that my vote is cast. I step to the side to meet Peeta and Haymitch, who finished just maybe a minute or two before me.
"That was good, yeah?" Peeta asks me, taking my hand in his as the three of us start back towards Victors Village.
"Yeah, that was good," I reply. I feel better than I did before we voted. Even though I don't know the outcome, the feeling of agency was more empowering than I could have predicted. On a whim, spurred on by the good feelings, I kiss Peeta on the cheek. Haymitch just rolls his eyes at us and the three of us keep walking.
"You know, I thought that you two kids being together now would make my life easier. Thought it would keep the two of you occupied and out of my hair. Instead, I see just as much of the two of you as ever, but now I just have to see you all over each other all the damn time."
I snort at him and roll my eyes. Even though I've gotten past the worst of it, I'm still a very private person, especially in regards to all of this relationship-y stuff. Because of that, Peeta and I don't do much in the ways of public displays of affection. What Haymitch describes as us being "all over each other" is holding hands and maybe a few kisses here and there.
"Oh you've gotten off easy," I tell him teasingly. When he raises his eyebrow at me, I elaborate. "You could have seen a whole lot worse." I cackle at Haymitch's disgusted expression and the look of shock on Peeta's flushed face. My laughter only intensifies at the noise of repulsion that comes from Haymitch's mouth.
I make my decided goal for the rest of the day to be making Haymitch as uncomfortable as possible. As he, Peeta, and I settle in at my house to kill time and wait for election results, I sit on Peeta's lap whenever the situation presents itself. I let my kisses last a lot longer than I usually would in front of anyone. I make direct eye contact with Haymitch while snuggling up with Peeta. Haymitch sees exactly what I'm doing and keeps glaring at me, but the more he reacts the more I'm encouraged to egg him on.
The three of us just goof off and waste time for a couple hours, waiting for election results to start rolling in on the news. Peeta and Haymitch play a round of chess while I try my best to distract the both of them and prompt them to make silly mistakes. Peeta cooks and Haymitch grabs a bottle from his house so we can toast when the results come in. I flip through the plant book on the couch with my legs stretched out across Peeta's lap.
Around six, we turn on the TV and flip to the news channel. The two political commentators are vaguely familiar to me. I try to avoid watching this sort of thing as much as possible, but I've still seen their faces a couple of times. The woman is from the Captiol. Her hair is an interesting shade of shiny pink, but other than that she looks fairly normal. The man is bald and dark skinned. I remember seeing one of his earlier broadcasts, and I think he moved to the Capitol from 11 after the end of the war to get more involved. They seem to get on well, chatting and making jokes and predictions.
I'm not usually one for metaphors, but it is not lost on me that something like this would never have been possible before, that these two individuals - one Capitolite and the other from one of the most harshly treated, impoverished districts - could be presented on entirely equal terms and could have respect for each other. These two commentators seem to perfectly represent everything we are trying to achieve.
When the results start to come in, Haymitch pours each of us a glass of some sort of brown colored liquor. I sniff it a bit suspiciously before taking a small sip. I cough a little in reaction to the burning feeling of it going down my throat and Haymitch laughs at me. Peeta handles it a bit better than I do, but his facial expression betrays him and Haymitch laughs again. We get a little better at it after a few more sips, but Haymitch still says we look like babies.
I don't really recognize the names of any of the people announced to have won elections in the other districts. They show little pictures of everyone, though, and I do see that the faces are pretty diverse.
Each district has elected some people who have their traditional district "look": the blonde hair and dazzling eyes of District 1, the ashy skin and dark hair of District 3, the dark tones of District 11. But in pretty much every district, there are also elects who do not fit this mold. People have been elected to represent districts they have only recently moved to. We aren't divided by these lines anymore. We get to choose where we want to be, who we want to surround ourselves with, who we want to represent and advocate for us.
When Thom's face appears as the winner of mayor for 12, the three of us cheer, clinking our glasses together and taking sips. We repeat the action soon after when Bristel, Alon, and the man from 13 I now know as Raphael are elected to the Senate.
I feel something I have hardly ever felt before. I feel pride in what we have done. I feel some sense of security in our government. I was and still am very happy with the choice of Paylor as our president, but I was too lost when that choice was made to really process how it made me feel. Now I feel it, though. I can't fully explain it, but this feels right.
Haymitch, Peeta, and I spend the rest of the evening celebrating in our own little weird way. We talk, we drink, we tease each other, we let ourselves laugh freely for what feels like the first time ever.
By around 9 pm, we're all happily exhausted. I've reached the furthest extent I like with drinking, where I'm sleepy and silly but still in control. Right now I'm curled up in Peeta's side on the couch, while Haymitch is nodding off in an armchair. Peeta runs his fingers through my hair and I feel incredibly at peace. Everything is comfortable. I feel safe and happy with the people I'm with, and even with the people who are going to represent us. The pattern of Peeta's hand making its way through my hair is so soothing I start to drift off.
Our peace is interrupted, though, when the phone rings.
I sit up with a start at the sound of the ringing. A feeling of anxiety mounts in my chest quickly. I don't get many phone calls. In fact, I think I could count on one hand the number of calls I have received since getting back here that weren't scheduled by Dr. Aurelius, and there would be no reason for him to be calling me right now. Haymitch wakes with a jolt at the noise, and I see his hand shift automatically to his belt, searching for his knife out of an instinct that has been conditioned into all Victors: strange noises mean threats.
I get up and walk over to the phone on my wall. I feel an extremely disproportionate amount of fear for the stimulus at hand, and I'm not entirely sure why. The unexpected phone call feels strangely violating. I pick up.
"Hello?" I ask. Each one of my negative feelings increases exponentially when I hear the voice on the other end. I am paralyzed with fear.
"Hi, Catnip."