Evelyn is worried about my progress, truthfully, so am I. At first healing was slow but it was constant, recently it's ground to a halt.
"Bend your elbow" Evelyn instructs, aiding me "and the other, now your wrist" I wince as she bends my joints further than I was willing to "your knuckles are more swollen than I'd like them to be at this point"
"Should I be using them more or less? Should I exercise them or will that make things worse?"
"Perhaps you could write, try and regain some of your mobility, or knitting might help? Embroidery?" I wince, in pain of an entirely different kind
"Neither are my forte" I admit "I was only ever good for one thing" I tell her, looking down at my crooked fingers "was"
"We'll see about that".
Evelyn has Thresh carry me across the meadow and checks ahead for customers before they seat me at the piano in the middle of the saloon
"Thom says no one will be in for a while, he needed time to do inventory this morning so the place is all yours. See what you can manage" Evelyn encourages me before she and Thresh head out, leaving me alone.
It's familiar, the keys cool and smooth to the touch just as they should be. The instrument isn't as grand as what I'm used to and the keys aren't as resistant I find, hesitantly pressing down on middle C. I use my middle and index fingers to test a few keys then attempt some chords. Before the accident I could find and play these chords without seeing or thinking. Now, I have to place each finger individually and they're not strong enough to press evenly so the sound isn't as crisp.
I'm still struggling with the basic chords I mastered years ago when Johanna hobbles down stairs.
"Some of us are trying to sleep while you're bashing around making a racket"
"Sorry Johanna, I didn't think"
"SHHHHHH" she quiets me "I'm awake now, until I've had one of Finnick's fancy concoctions I will be of no use to anyone except any handsome young gunslinger that wanders in here" I stifle a laugh and return to the keys, placing my hands but not playing "I thought you were a genius ... musically?" Johanna mumbles from behind the bar
"I seem to have lost the only thing that made me of any use to anyone"
"It's too early in the morning for that sort of talk" she slurps at a drink "and you didn't lose it, it was taken"
"Too early for that sort of talk" I mutter back, Johanna snorts
"Touche my little cherub friend"
"Cherub?!" I exclaim "I look a monster, I'll have scars and be misshapen forever"
"Please" Johanna scoffs "your face isn't puffy anymore, the bruising has faded and Prim's stitches are so fine you'll barely have a mark on your face. Can't say the same for your body but you're pretty enough it won't matter" I've never thought myself pretty, too damaged and imperfect for that but I have got many of my mothers features, and she was ethereal
"That hardly matters" I blush "I doubt even I will see the full extent of my injuries once they're healed"
"You mean to tell me the first thing you'll do when you can stand, won't be to stand buck ass nude in a mirror and assess the damage?" I flush crimson this time
"No!"
"If you can't look at yourself how do you expect any man to?" Johanna demands, suddenly very much awake
"I don't!" I retort immediately "I'll never marry now. Even if I won't be married off by my father, no man of my choice would have me and I wouldn't expect any man to ... want this" I indicate to the chair but we both know that's not the extent of my meaning
"You're brainless"
"Brainless and crippled, what a catch" at that Johanna slams her glass to the bar
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Life for you doesn't end here"
"Even if that were true, love won't be available to me"
"You know what brainless, go back to murdering the piano, it's easier to listen to".
I spend the best pat of the morning gingerly fingering the keys of the piano until eventually I can manage a very slow, very depressing version of a simple holiday song I learnt when I was 4.
As if sensing I was finished the main door begins to rattle with anger, the shouting of the man the other side muffled
"Go through to the back Madge, I'll take care of this buffoon" Thom says, moving past me toward the door
"Are you sure, he may be drunk, or armed?"
"Probably just some drunk after a whiskey, go on now" I wheel myself to the side of the bar but leave the door ajar so I can hear Thom unlatching the main door
"Where is she?" someone bellows and my blood freezes "where is she?" Hang on I know that voice
"The girls are all asleep. Come back later buddy, with some manners"
"Madge. I know you've got her here. Now, where is she?" Rye shoves Thom
"It's alright Thom, let him in" I call, coming out of my hiding place "Hey Rye"
"Madge" he whispers "what? - how? - my god, are you alright?" his voice is scratchy
"Who told you I was-"
"Alive?!" Rye exclaims "why didn't you? Why would you let me think you were dead?"
"I'm sorry"
"What happened to you? Have you been here all along?"
"Why don't you come in?" Thom offers "have a drink, you two can talk. You want me to stay?" Thom asks, turning away from Rye
"No, thank you Thom" I half smile, nervous about how exactly this talk is supposed to go
"Call if you need me, Haymitch and the girls are right upstairs" I nod, Rye is no danger to me but Thom doesn't know that
"Rye, how did you know I was here?" I ask concerned
"A girl, the one Peeta likes, come by and said we should come see you. Freaked Dad out something awful so I come over here wanting an explanation. Saw Cato heading around the back so figured she might have been telling the truth"
"I'm sorry I didn't send word sooner. I'm sorry you found out like this"
"What the hell's going on Madge? What happened to you? Why does everyone think you're dead?"
"It's hard to explain"
"Well you're gonna have to try Madge" he rubs his face exasperated
"My father told everyone I was dead and it's best it stays that way"
"Why would he do that? What happened? Your face and your hands?"
"I was beaten with a cane. My father left me for dead and probably thinks that's true. Haymitch- Mr. Abernathy, he found me and brought me here. Mrs. Everdeen has been treating me" when Rye looks up from his hands, his eyes are wet "is there anything else you'd like to know?" I force out, feeling empty now the confession has left me
"Who- who beat you?"
"An acquaintance of my father, man called Thread. But my dad had been knocking me about for a considerable time before that"
"Your father? Are you serious? Madge! Why did you never come to me for help?"
"What could anyone have done Rye?"
"Something, anything. We'd have taken you in" and that's quite enough talking for me
"Look Rye, the saloon will be opening soon. I'm glad you came and I'd like you to tell Peeta and Ban and your dad the truth but no one else can know. You can't tell anyone I'm alive" I pressure "promise me Rye!" I push when he doesn't answer
"Alright, alright, I promise, of course. Can we come and see you?"
"I'd like you to but you have to be inconspicuous" Rye nods "best Delly doesn't catch you coming here besides" at that his lips twitch
"She'd have my guts for garters" he snorts
"You can't tell her just yet. I love her but you know she wouldn't be able to keep this to herself" he nods sadly, he knows "maybe once I'm back on my feet"
"Alright" he agrees "you are going to though? Get back on your feet?"
"Of course" I force a smile "just takes time" I lie "come back soon okay?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll bring pastry" he kisses each of my cheeks tenderly, looks me long and hard in the eyes and exits the saloon backwards, rubbing his face when he leaves. It might have been easier if I had just died.