Chapter 7
With the newfound strength given by the locket, I take the parchment and ask Peeta if we could start working on the book. I'm not sure exactly how it will look, or what it will accomplish even, though I have some idea of what to do. The page begins with the person's picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. I want to do Prim first. Begin with the hardest, I tell myself. I took down every photo of her the first day after my return. Although I could find them again and use one of them, I'd prefer if Peeta were the one to make her eternal on this piece of paper.
"That's a lot of responsibility," he says.
"Exactly. That's why I think you should do it. She would have liked it. I overheard her tell our mother once that she'd like to ask you to paint a picture of the three of us," I tell him. It's true, she was going to ask him after our Victory Tour. Then everything happened.
"All right. I have to go home and get my brushes and pencils. Also, I'm kind of hungry. Do you mind if I come back after I grab a bite to eat?" he asks me. I'm offended by the suggestion that he'd sit alone in his house over a plate of food, when I'll also be alone in mine, craving his company.
"How about you go get the materials while I fix ourselves something to eat?" I ask him. He arches his right eyebrow. I can't read whether he finds this surprising or suspicious, so I add more information. "Greasy Sae brought me a ton of soup yesterday morning. Besides, we could use some of the herbs in your garden. We can't let the soup, or the greens, go to waste."
"Okay, then. I'll maybe bring some chives. They could help with whatever Greasy Sae has in store for us," he tells me before he turns on his heels and leaves.
I sit by myself for a while. I'm still full from the cookies at Haymitch's, and I had promised myself I wouldn't share a meal with Peeta today. Stupid me. He was hinting that we don't have to eat every meal together and I pushed it on him. Now it's too late and I get up and turn on the stove. It doesn't take long until the soup is warm. I can tell there's bacon in it, which makes it smells delicious. I wait for Peeta in the kitchen, but it's an hour later and he hasn't come back. Maybe I should go get him. No. After I jumped on him today, he must think I'm very needy and lonely. Although it's true, I don't want to give him more reason to believe it. I'm pondering whether to go after him or not for a few more minutes, when he shows up. He brings his craft case and a bag. He's clean-shaven and must have had a shower. His hair is wet and I can smell his after-shave from here. It's one of my favourite smells, next to the woods and lamb stew.
"Sorry I took this long. After waiting for the train under the scorching sun, I felt disgusting," he says as he puts what he's carrying on the table.
"Did you wait all morning?" I ask him.
"Yes, but I had to go there anyway. I had to mail a parcel," he says. He empties the contents of the bag. There are the chives he promised, along with toast and a small box wrapped in paper. I take it and begin to unwrap it when Peeta stops me.
"That's for later," he says. It only makes me more curious, but I try not to show it and begin chopping the chives to add to the soup.
"So what parcel was it? That you had to mail?" I ask him.
"Just something I had to. I can't tell you just yet," he replies.
Peeta is keeping secrets from me. I know it's hard for him to share some of his experiences from the Capitol, some of his nightmares. I know he can't tell me everything, but this feels like hiding. I wonder if he's told Johanna and I feel jealousy filling me up again. Of their friendship. I want to convince myself that's all there is. I know Peeta doesn't love me anymore, but what if he's falling for someone else? Someone with whom he also has a lot in common? I open my mouth to ask him to grab a couple of plates and something else entirely comes out of it.
"You can't tell me, but you can probably tell Johanna, right? She's your phone buddy."
He looks confused and just stares at me. Great. If before he saw me as needy and lonely, now I'm also a crazy jealous woman.
"Not sure what you're referring to, Katniss. Johanna and I talk once a week for thirty minutes and Dr. Aurelius sends us his chosen topic of conversation. We were tortured together and neither of us have family left. But it's not like I tell her my life secrets," he says.
I feel dumb for bringing that up. I have no reason to be jealous of Johanna. I have no reason to be jealous at all. Peeta and I are not a couple and he can do whatever he wants. I can do whatever I want too, except I don't know what I want. All I know is what I need. I need him closer to me like before. For that to happen, though, I need him to learn to open up to me again.
"So why can't you tell me about the parcel?" I push.
"It's nothing, Katniss. Some permits, some orders. Business related stuff," he answers.
"Business? Like bakery business?"
"Yes, like bakery business. Now you know it. I just haven't told anyone about it yet. I heard the paperwork can take up to a year and I don't even know if they'll give me a permit. I didn't want to look like a fool when they didn't," he confesses.
"Well, then your memory must be really faulty if you think they'd deny you anything. Peeta, this country owes you so much. They'll let you do anything you want," I point out.
"They owe you a lot more than they owe me and they won't even let you out of the district." He doesn't sound too convinced.
"That's because I shot the wrong president, remember? Besides, who said I want to leave District 12?"
"You don't?" He asks me. He's genuinely surprised. "I thought you did. To see your mother." He pauses for a second. "To see Gale."
Gale doesn't really come up when Peeta and I talk, at least since the war. Even when we're discussing our lives before the games, I never mention him. So I'm stunned by Peeta's mention of my former best friend. I don't know what to tell him, really, and I avoid that part of his suggestion. I miss Gale and I wish we could still be friends, but I know it won't be possible. The wall between us is too large. As much as it hurts me to conclude that.
"My mother needs some time to grieve away from me. She'll come visit me when she's ready."
"And... him?" Peeta doesn't let it go.
"He's fine without me," I tell him.
"All right," he says and rests his case. I reckon that maybe what caused me to bring up Johanna earlier is what caused Peeta to bring up Gale now. Though he has plenty of reason to distrust me when it comes to Gale. I try not to read too much into it. We're just jealous of each other having other friends. Haymitch would disagree with that simple conclusion, but I can't afford to think through it. It's already hard enough to keep my sanity as it is.
We have the soup and the toast and, after, Peeta unwraps the small package he brought. It's a box of chocolate truffles. Even though this is new Panem, fine chocolate like this is still hard to order.
"I had to go through Plutarch to get this, but it was easy for him after I mentioned it was for your birthday. They're made by the same chocolatier that used to provide those chocolate-covered strawberries at the training centre."
"Oh thanks, Peeta. You didn't have to go through so much trouble."
"To be honest, I kind of wanted some too. I just needed an excuse." He grins at me.
We bring the truffles to the living room and start to work on the parchment. We decide where the picture will go and where to write the description. There's no work for me yet, so I watch Peeta do his magic. He lightly sketches Prim's face and then carefully separates his yellows for working on her hair. He alternates the colours and her braids slowly come to life. He makes her smile and in her hand is a small primrose. Her dress is as blue as her eyes and her shoes remind me of the ones I wore during our interview with Caesar Flickerman right after our first games.
When he's done with Prim, he continues with his family. He never thought to bring any pictures of them to his house in the Victor's Village, so he has to rely completely on memory when he draws his father's nose, or his brothers' strong hands. They're sporting a smile, except his mother. She's carrying the usual frown, which makes me think that Peeta, at least, remembers her correctly. The sketch is ready, though he doesn't add colour to it yet. He's fumbling through his blues, greens, and browns, and I can see panic in his eyes. At first, I don't know what to do. Then I remember.
"Peeta, your dad had blue eyes like yours. They were deep, yet a little tired. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you this after you told me you couldn't remember."
He lets out a deep breath of relief and puts the pencils away. He brings his right hand to mine. It's warm and just a bit sweaty from drawing.
"Thanks. Maybe I should leave it like this. Showing exactly what I can remember by myself," he tells me.
I nod and we make a list of everyone we want to include in the book. It's less painful than I thought it would be. This is only the easy part, though. I can't imagine what my state will be when it's my turn to write the descriptions, to remember every important detail. I assume it will be something like what I see in Peeta right now. He's staring at the floor, his mind far away from here. Too much too soon, perhaps. I rest my head on his shoulder for comfort and, to my surprise, he brings his arms around me as we pull deeper into the sofa. His body makes me feel safe and I suppose my warmth does the same for him.
"Maybe we should take a break and continue tomorrow," I suggest. He nods, but he doesn't leave. I smile at the thought that, maybe, he needs my presence. Maybe he wants my presence. Neither of us is up for conversation, though. We turn on the television and watch a silly Capitol movie. I think it's meant to be a comedy about two old women, but we only laugh at the serious parts. Capitol entertainment always had the opposite effect on me. Even after the movie is over, we remain on the sofa. His arms still wrapped around me. It was a warm day, but the night is cool and breezy and we cover ourselves with a thin blanket. We fall asleep right there and then. I wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, he holds me tighter. When I open my eyes again, it's morning and Peeta is sound asleep. He never left. Despite our awkward position on the cushions, I haven't felt this comfortable in months.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I've come to the point of this fanfiction where I really have to decide how long it will be. Basically how much to write in between the remaining lines, and honestly, I have no idea. So if you could tell me how much more you'd like to see or if you don't want it to take too long to get to the last line of MJ, that'd be great.