Chapter 3 – Hold on to what you believe
"And now this land
Means less and less to me without you breathing through its trees
At every turn
The water runs away from me and the halo disappears
I'm not whole when you're not here"
Hold on to what you believe - Mumford & Sons
Katniss' POV
District 12 decides to undertake a commemoration for those that died in the bombing of the District at the end of the Quarter Quell. It will fall on the 2nd year anniversary of the bombing. The new mayor, Flint Cooperton, pays me a visit to ask if I would participate in the ceremonies, but it still feels so raw. I know he knew my Dad well. Flint was his crew supervisor, so it does pain me to look into his sympathetic eyes and tell him "I can't." How could I possibly honor these dead, when I feel so responsible for bringing the Capitol's terror on these innocent people? To my relief Peeta realizes that one of us should speak. Of course, he is the better speaker, but it won't be easy, as I guiltily remember he lost his family on that dreadful night.
The weeks of preparation go by quickly enough. I avoid it for the most part, but sometimes catch the blossoming set up in the square as I make my way to the woods. There are a few nights too where I listen and help Peeta hone his speech. It's not much, but it is something we can work on together. Thankfully listening is not too taxing on me, though I still often feel awkward around Peeta. Only once when we were working together did he bolt up, startled and panicked like a rabbit when it realizes it's been snared. He started perspiring and wildly looking around, like he needed to escape. He excused himself and returned home hastily. Shortly afterwards, I heard his door open and close, admitting someone inside.
xxxxx
The day before the ceremony, I'm returning from the woods with a lone squirrel clipped on my belt and round the path to the Victor Village. I stop dead in my tracks, my heart in my throat as I see Gale at my door from a distance. He give a slow disappointed shake of his head when no one answers the door and turns to step down off of the porch. But it's like a flashback, because it's not the Gale that left me in the Capitol, it's the lanky 14 year old Gale I first met all those years ago in the woods. My heart finally beats again as my confusion fades, Oh my God, that's Rory, not Gale!
"Rory!" I call out, as I jog up to him. I'm still pretty out of shape, so even though it's less than 20 yards, I'm a little out of breath when I reach him. He gives me a goofy grin when he sees me, but it doesn't fully displace the melancholy in his eyes. I remember being able to read grey eyes so much like these. He stoops down so we can embrace each other. When I pull back, I take in his full height and comment "Wow, looks like whatever they're feeding you in District 2 is agreeing with you! You've shot up like a weed!" He shrugs it off with a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess, but there ain't enough squirrel there if you ask me," he says eyeing mine with a smirk.
I see now his hair is still two shades lighter than Gale's and baby fine. Also close up I can see that he inherited more of Hazelle's chin instead of Gale's chiseled jaw. Still the similarities are striking, and paired with the familiar mannerisms, it's downright unsettling. I clear my throat and glance around, "Is the whole family here for the commemoration?" He tentatively meets my eyes " 'Cept for Gale, yeah." I nod, feeling a little relieved, but mostly disappointed at the same time.
He sighs as he continues "I talked my mom into coming, I felt I needed to come back to say good bye to ... some people. We debated, but in the end we thought this would help us, well mostly me... move on." I feel a little panic attack coming on, I think 'How can anyone move on?' He must sense this, and he gives my arm a squeeze, then says "You want to sit?" He leads me back to the porch where we settle on the steps. I think I should invite him into the house, but I can't quite gather the energy or the nerve to.
We sit quietly for a minute before he breaks the silence, "It's actually really hard being back here. There are memories and ghosts around every corner. Even if the buildings are gone, I still feel the people are are here." I nod, staring at the rip in my pant as if it were the most fascinating thing in the District. Dr. Aurelius must have drilled something into my head. Uncharacteristically, I hear myself say "Do you want to talk about it?" He gives a breathy snort with a half-hearted smile as he says, "I'm a Hawthorne, you know we don't do that." But then he does, and his voice is just a low whisper when he says "I miss Prim so much." I wrap my arms around him now and we hold each other for a minute. I realize I am crying too.
After a few moments he straightens his back a bit and staring at out across the way and admits "When Gale told me about... the bomb... his bomb, I... I lost it... I started punching him, really railing into him, like that would make a difference... like it could bring her back."
"What did he do?" I ask, knowing the damage Gale could inflict on Rory if he put him in his place.
"Nothing! Nothing... He didn't do a thing. He didn't defend himself. Not once, and I must have pummeled him for, I don't know, it seemed like half an hour. He just stood there and kept taking it." He swallows and squeezes his index finger and thumb across his eyes stopping on the bridge of his nose before he says "I actually broke his nose..."
"Did it make you feel any better?" I wonder out loud.
"No, I thought it would, but it didn't. Nothing makes me feel better really."
I nod in silent agreement.
He snorts as he recalls " A couple of weeks ago I tried smokin' the leaf with some kids from school. But somehow Gale found out."
"Did he beat the crap out of you?" I ask on a hunch.
"No, but when he was done lecturing me, I wished he'd done that instead."
After a beat he adds, "Gales trying to get me to listen to music. It works a little, I'm able to use music to take me away temporarily, but reality is still there afterwards."
There's nothing I can say to refute this, so I let silence take over again leaving each of us with our own miserable thoughts.
It's a few moments before I ask "How long are you guys staying? I'd love to see Hazelle and the kids."
"Just two days, heading back on the Sunday Noon train. We've all got school Monday."
I swallow and put myself out there before I can change my mind "Would you guys like to come over for breakfast Sunday before you go back?"
Rory nods with a warm smile saying "That would be great, I think everyone would lo...", but gets cut off by the beeping of his phone. "...love to". He checks his texts and says "I'm to meet them to check out the new Hob."
We make arrangements for Sunday. Before he leaves, he makes sure to bend down so he can look me in the eye and says "We're gonna be okay, right?" before he turns on his heel and makes his way to the Hob.
The next day is hot, but considered mild for the season. Everyone dons their finest, reminiscent of a reaping, but without the despair. The commemoration starts out solemn, but Flint has worked hard to ensure that it is also a celebration of life for those that lost their lives that day, and in the months of the rebellion. There are just so many people to honor, mostly innocent people whose lives were sacrificed. He lightens the mood by telling a few funny anecdotes about Mayor Undersee and how he was always losing his glasses, but knew how to keep everything else in the District in order.
The funds available to build a memorial are limited, so they allocate one of the external walls of city hall as a projector screen. They set up three projectors that scroll through the names and a few photos of our fallen District mates with some beautiful instrumental music to accompany it. They'll project the names every evening they have power until they find the resources for a more permanent memorial. It's a tasteful commemoration for the community. It serves as a focal point for people to leave flowers, candles and notes for their loved ones. Among the mementos is a faded red bandana surrounding a handful of foxglove, a small notebook with a candle, a family photo with a note and from me a small primrose and fireweed bouquet.
There's mention of those that helped save the survivors that went to District 13. Gale and Thom are among the few that are named as being instrumental in getting as many people as they could to safety. Flint brings Thom on stage and give him a medal, much like the one they gave us to commemorate the death of our fathers. Rory's called up to receive the one in Gale's stead. Haymitch said there's talk of naming something in town after each of them.
I sit dutifully on stage next to Peeta looking out at a sea of hopeful neighbors with the new flag of the country waving as a backdrop. When the time comes I give Peeta's hand a supportive squeeze as he stands up to mount the podium. His strong voice carries over the square talking about sacrifice, rebirth and hope. Peeta reminds the crowd that although he has experienced the twisted actions of the Snow's government clawing to keep their power and the horrors of war, he also understands the human capacity for healing and forgiveness. Our resiliance and industriousness are key in the revitalization of our District and of ourselves. He points out people in the crowd that are spearheading rebuilding efforts and talks about how we can reinvent ourselves, our district and the country. It's so moving and inspirational that I almost start to believe it myself.
Afterwards there are other official events, but I busy myself in preparing for my breakfast guests. The only people that have even crossed the threshold are Sae, Haymitch and Peeta. They have been kind enough to tolerate the build up of debris that has accumulated. I owe it to the Hawthornes to tidy up the place and I buy a few staples at the market. I even commit myself t o making something to edible for my guests.
xxxx
Morning comes and the Hawthornes are right on time. I open the door to Rory and Hazelle, with Vick fidgeting to the side. Posy is tucked behind Hazelle's skirt shying away. I put on my freshly practiced smile and give Rory a quick hug. In turn, Hazelle draws me into a tight embrace. It's a 'Hazelle hug', one that she reserves for family; they're long, deliberate and comforting. This one lasts at least 30 seconds and conveys volumes of meaning: Are you alright? We've missed you. You don't need to fake it with us. We're here for you. We love you.
When we break apart, her eyes have a sheen of tears that she quickly blinks back. I turn to Vick and snag a hug, reminding him that I can barely recognize him as the Vick-I-know now. Meanwhile, Hazelle has been working to extract Posy from her leg. "Posy is pulling her shy routine, but she'll warm up." Her big grey eyes peek out momentarily from behind her mother, then retreat quickly again.
Rory leads the way inside, exclaiming "Since when do you cook? It smells amazing!" It had been more of Prim's job to make meals, my role was more of a provider. I accept the compliment for the simple spread, and motion for them to start helping themselves. The boys don't need to be told twice, and Hazelle works on setting up Posy with a plate before serving herself.
We settle into some easy small talk about school and their new lives in District 2. Hazelle was able to get a job at the school where Vick and Posy attend. Between her salary and a contribution from Gale's army stipend they can afford row home not far from Gale's quarters, both walkable to a little downtown area.
When I ask the kids what they like most about 2, Vick doesn't hesitate, "I like my new school. It's a lot nicer than the one we had here...and it definitely smells better than that dump where we studied in 13." I think to myself that the old school here sets a pretty low bar, and I certainly can't vouch for the aroma of anyplace in 13. I look to Posy and she says "I like the neighbor Mr. Charles!" Hazelle nods and explains with a soft smile "Mr. Charles lives a few houses down from us. I do his laundry and in exchange he's been giving Vick and Posy piano lessons."
Posy pipes in with "I have talents, you know!" Which coaxes a smile from me and prompts me to inquire "I bet you do, tell me about them!"
"Well," she says placing one hand on her hip for effect, "one talent is, I can play piano." Behind her Rory rolls his eyes. Then she adds "My second talent is I can make myself look like a bubble!" To this Rory stifles his laugh, but Vick is less successful. Posy responds by shooting Vick a look with a scrunched up nose, like that will really show him.
Vick is saved by a knock on the door. It's Peeta, he's come by to welcome them with warm cheese rolls and some pastries. Of course he has. After greeting everyone, Peeta, Vick and Rory fall into an animated conversation about whatever it is boys talk about.
I remember there are some dolls Prim kept around and entice Posy into the living room to find them with Hazelle in tow. I unearth one of Prim's favorites from the bottom of a wardrobe and tell Posy that I want her to have it. Her round face lights up and she says "Really? I love it!" Hazelle reminds her of her manners and she adds "Thank you Katniss." She looks lovingly at her new friend and then she says "I miss Prim". My breath goes out of me, so I can only whisper back "Yeah, me too." Hazelle gives us both a squeeze and murmurs "We all miss Prim."
Posy nods, but then goes about finding a few other dolls and accessories to entertain herself, and Hazelle turns to me and confides "As you might expect, Rory's having a hard time of it all. I do think being in Two helps him keep his mind off of her more. You know, when you're ready, you should visit us." I feel my brow furrow, and she responds by taking my hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze and repeating with a small smile "When you're ready."
Hazelle makes her way back to the kitchen for a pastry and to catch up with Peeta, while I try to keep up with Posy's chatter. Rory comes into the living room. He looks like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. We have a few exchanges about the commemoration ceremony. He comments on the inspirational tone of Flint and Peeta's talks. We make some small talk about a few folks we know that are trying life anew in other districts.
He takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time. I don't know what makes me do it, but I suddenly ask "Ror, can you do me a favor?"
"Uh, sure, anything, what is it?"
"Can you call Gale for me on your phone?"
He nods knowingly, and the touch of a button later, hands me his phone and encouraging Posy out of the room with a promise of fresh berries.
I swallow nervously as it rings, then the connection picks up, and my throat goes dry, in exchange my palms flare up with a quick sweat. I hear Gale's upbeat voice on the other end "Hey Bro! How's 12, ready to move back there?" It takes me a second to be able to get my breath back. It's a long enough pause that he says "Hello? You there?" Finally, I force out "Hey Gale", now it's his turn to collect himself. There's a slip of silence, before he whispers "Katniss."
"Yeah, it's me."
"Uh, hey...I... I thought it'd be Rory."
"Well, that make sense." I say awkwardly.
There's another pause. "I gotta tell you, I wasn't sure we'd ever talk again." He admits straightaway.
"I know," I say as I swallow, "me neither... I actually tried to write to you once, well a few times that one time... but... there's too much..." I choke out.
I can practically hear him nodding through the phone, "Mmm hmm... I considered coming back with them, but I just started something pretty intense here, so leave's hard to get... Besides, I was pretty sure you wouldn't want to see me."
"I guess in total honesty, that it depends on the day."
"Fair enough" he says, his voice cracking slightly.
"I can't take too long now, your family's still here, I should get them off to the train. But maybe we can talk tonight or tomorrow?"
"Yeah, that would be great. I should be free tonight after 7 or so, I can call you then."
Our brief interaction has shaken me up a bit, even if I was the one that instigated it. I take few deep breaths before I return to my guests.
I sidle up to Rory while he's corralling a spill of berries in the kitchen. I hand him back his phone and give him 'thanks' in the form of a nod. He gives my face a quick inspection as he manages a small but genuine smile.
I wrap up the remaining berries and the extra pastries for Hazelle and the kids for the train ride. As I usher them out the door I remember a package of frozen squirrel meat that I slip to Rory. On the porch I hug each of them in turn, savoring these moments with what had been my second family. As Hazelle releases me she says, "Don't forget my offer, we'd love for you to come to District 2."
Peeta has gracefully remained in the background as I navigate this emotional farewell. But as I watch the Hawthornes pass out of the gate of my garden he steps up to my side. "You okay?" The concern is evident in his voice. I must be more shaken than I thought. "Yeah, it's just a lot to see them. I hadn't realized how much I miss them. Being around them seemed so natural. I forgot how much like family they were for us."
Peeta nods quietly and gives me a careful hug. I can feel his soft breath in my hair before we separate. I give him a half smile and say "Hey, thanks for joining us. And thanks for the cheese buns and pastries, they were a big hit!"
"Yeah, no worries, I know how important they are to you... I meant the Hawthornes, not the cheese buns - though I know those are important to you too," he says with a smile.
We retreat inside and clean up the dishes, while we talk about the ceremony and the tidbits of gossip we've picked up over the course of the weekend. He surprises me a little by saying, "I feel like a hypocrite."
"What do you mean?" I question.
"That whole speech about rebuilding and what not."
"I thought it was actually very inspiring, you've reminded us that there's hope for something better than what we had. I don't know maybe it all needs to be torn down to be able to really improve it."
"I guess"
"What? Are you saying you don't believe what you said?" I'm shocked.
"Well, I believe it for other folks." he says sheepishly.
"And what about for yourself? What does the future look like for you?"
His eyes flick away from mine for a second, like something crossed his mind that he was going to say, but then decided he doesn't want to share and then he blinks before he makes eye contact again.
"I don't know, there's really only one thing I know how to do. That's baking."
"Do you like it? If not, think of something else."
"I actually love it! There's something therapeutic about it, there's physical aspect to it and chemical reactions, which is neat. It's very satisfying to create something from pretty much nothing."
"I had no idea! So why not start a bakery? It could be part of your family's legacy."
"A bakery is a lot of work. It took the five of us working practically every day to run that place," he says sentimentally.
"Yeah, but it probably didn't start out that way." I posit.
"I guess you're right. When I think of the bakery, I think of the bakery as it was two years ago. There were so many types of baked goods, it seemed overwhelming. It took our whole family to run it. But I guess I forget that it grew over-time, my parents didn't always sell all those breads, pastries and cakes."
"I think it's a fabulous idea! I'd like a standing order of cheese buns, please!" I jest. "But really I think it's a great idea on a few levels. Town could really use some place with bread... you know real bread, maybe even sandwiches! More importantly I think it would be great for you. You can remember your family, but also put your talents to good use. I know the few times I've been busy and productive, I feel a little bit better."
He's encouraged and says, "You can help too! There would be so much to do to get it started and to keep it running!"
"If you need me to, I guess I could" I say reticently, though I don't know what I could do to help.
"Trust me there's plenty that you could help with...I could kiss you right now!" And he looks like he might.
I joke it off nervously, "Hah! You might get jipped, I think you should get me to do some work first!"
He takes my comment good naturedly, not willing to press or talk about it, for which I am thankful. But it gets me thinking about the last kiss we shared in the Arena. It certainly was passionate, fueled by adrenaline and heightened emotion. We truly believed that we'd said our last good byes to everyone we knew and that likely one or both of us would be dead in 24 hours. I wouldn't say it was desperate, but it was certainly fueled by desperation.
After a little more tidying up he excuses himself and heads back to his house. I am exhausted but content. I retire to my chair for an afternoon cat nap.
