Chapter 11
Lady licking Prim's cheek. I still wonder what happened to her and even thought about trying to get another goat the other day. It would be pointless, though. Lady was a gift for Prim that was also meant as an investment, so we wouldn't starve. Without Prim, and with my victor's pay, I wouldn't know what to do with a goat. Still, it makes me think of Haymitch and his geese. There could a purpose in an activity like that.
While Peeta carefully attaches a photo of my father to a piece of parchment, I try my best to describe him. My father's laugh. That's what comes to me first, then his singing voice, and his calm manner the day he taught me how to swim. I miss him and the uncomplicated way I viewed our lives when he was still alive. Not that I didn't feel the oppression like everyone else. I was a child, but I could still see through it all. It's just that it's easier to focus on the good things in life when it's somebody else who's carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. Gale once said that my father's death and the threat of starvation hovering over us transformed me into a but of pessimistic person, dangerously close to a conformist, though I don't know how he could make such an observation if he never knew me before our paths crossed after the mine explosion. All I know is that I had no reason to have a negative or positive view of anything. I was simply no idealist like Gale, it was necessity that brought out the fighter in me. I guess that explains why he's out there rebuilding the country and immersing himself in military strategy, and I'm here, unable to focus. Trying to find a way to unload the burden made of loss and scars.
There was a time when considering a world inhabited by both Peeta and Gale made no sense to me. Now I realize much has changed, as I watch Peeta go through pencil colours even though conversations Gale and I had resonate in my mind. Maybe because Gale was by my side once, but Peeta is by my side now. Even so, I know this isn't the only reason. I used to have to exclude one from my life in order to reach out to the other. This time, it was Gale who excluded himself and I'm curious about whether the boy who was once my best friend is still there, inside of that shell, somehow. It doesn't matter. Some deeds can't be undone. Perhaps, this time, it's not my choice to make. Or it is and I'll never be able to deal with it.
The truth is I could choose Peeta and lose him anyway. His revelation to me the other day tells me he's better, that he's coming back. Whether he's coming back to me, that's another matter altogether. I'm watching his blue eyes staring firmly at the parchment as it transforms in a beautiful rendition of Finnick and his trident. It's so truthful to his likeness that Finnick himself would have approved of it. The more I knew him, the more I realized his looks didn't matter that much to him. Well, they still mattered to some extent. So I guess he would have been proud of the way Peeta's drawn his tan strands of hair falling on his face while the ocean stars as the perfect background.
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. My effort to stand up to open it is useless, since Haymitch waits for no one.
"I thought you'd be up," he tells me while his eyes drift to Peeta on the living room floor. "You too."
"Evening, Haymitch," Peeta says without lifting his eyes off his drawing.
"I got this today and it fazes me why she'd address it to me." He hands me a package and based on the handwriting alone, I can tell it's from Effie.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I don't know, sweetheart. Isn't it obvious I haven't opened it?" He seems annoyed and more concerned with keeping his eyes glued on Peeta than with finding out about the contents of the box.
I'm not sure why Effie would send Haymitch something either. It's true they worked together for a long time. It's also true neither seemed happy with their job. Haymitch, for obvious reasons. Effie, because she wanted to chaperon a better district. Regardless, I'm under the impression that they don't exactly hate each other and sometimes I think there's more to it than what I've seen. I make a mental note to ask Peeta about this later while I open the box.
"Haymitch, I don't think she addressed it wrong," I say. There's a bottle of a red liquor inside that looks like wine to me. And a card. Peeta finally stops what he was doing to examine the contents. His blue eyes meet mine and I suspect we're wondering the same thing. What's written on the card.
"So did you two fight or something and this is her way of saying I'm sorry?" Peeta teases him. Haymitch frowns, though it's clear the bottle sparked his interest. He grabs it and sprints towards the kitchen, but leaves the card in the box.
"You're forgetting the card, Haymitch," I tell him.
"You can just throw it away," he says while fumbling through the drawers in search of a bottle opener.
"But what about your manners?" Peeta teases again, letting out a crooked smile. I can tell he's bracing himself for whatever Haymitch will say next, knowing it will come with a dose of bad-temper. We wait for it, though Haymitch only sits and takes sip off the bottle.
"The good stuff," he raises his glass after pouring a good amount of wine into it. I have a bad feeling about this and want to hide the rest of the liquor. I'm bothered by the fact Effie's the one who sent it when she clearly hated Haymitch's drunken stunts.
"Maybe she wants to punish us," Peeta whispers, reading my thoughts. He takes the card from the box and takes a seat next to Haymitch at the kitchen table. I follow him and take a moment to consider the three of us. Haymitch is wearing clean clothes and looks to have gotten a haircut. His skin carries a light warm hue, from raising the geese under the sun, I guess. And although he's drinking wine, he doesn't smell too bad. To be honest, he probably looks better than Peeta or me and the thought of it disturbs me a little.
While I observed us, the two of them must have gone through a telepathic conversation because the next thing I see is Peeta turning on the fire on the stove and burning the card. Then they nod at each other. Whatever was on that card, I have a feeling Peeta knew about it. We're sitting in silence for about ten minutes, until Peeta interrupts the quiet.
"I think I should go home, bake something," he says.
"I'm going too. I wouldn't mind some bread in the morning, though." Haymitch says while collecting his bottle and cork. He leaves right away, but only after exchanging another odd look with Peeta. This time it really bothers me. Their silent agreements behind my back were made like this.
"What's with you two?" I ask Peeta. It's meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out like an angry interrogation.
"Nothing. Guy stuff." He gets up to leave, though he hesitates a bit. He looks around the kitchen and, when he turns to the kitchen door, his eyes find the parchment on the living room. Buttercup is sitting right next to it, almost as if examining Prim's drawing. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's what he's doing.
"Don't you want to work some more on the book?" I suggest.
"Maybe another time. I'm getting tired, I'm not even sure I can drag myself all the way to my house. It's been a long day." I should let him go, but all I can think is how his words could be hinting that he'd like to stay over. It's just my imagination, because he says goodnight and walks out. I collect the pencils and parchment and put them away on the side table. I sit on the sofa and stretch my legs. Alone again, I think. I don't know why I supposed that working on the book late at night would end up with Peeta staying over again. I take back the parchment with Prim's drawing and what follows is a night of more sobbing than nightmares. Probably because there was a lot more crying than sleeping.
When I wake up again it's late morning and I feel disgusting. I walk upstairs for a short shower that changes into a long shower that changes into soaking in a bathtub half filled with water and half filled with tears. It could be my whole day if I didn't find the locket Prim made for me in the closet, next to my hunting jacket. I wipe my tears away and decide to hunt. After all, it's what I do best when the world comes crashing down.
I make my way downstairs and look for Buttercup. His milk bowl is empty and I fill it up, though he doesn't come. I whistle to call him over, but nothing. Stupid cat. This is no time for hide and seek. Even so, after seeing his sad eyes stare at Prim's sketch last night I feel a bit responsible for him. I go back upstairs, hoping to find him in Prim's bed and although it hurts to open that door, I do it just to find the room completely empty. The way it will always be from now on.
After inspecting the house for about one hour, from attic to basement, I reckon I should gather a search party. Knowing that cat, he could be miles on the way to District 13 by now. I try Peeta first. Partly because he was the last one to open a door at my house, partly because I have an urge to see him.
"Just come in," I can hear Peeta say from his kitchen. I find him half-covered in flour and half-covered in oven dust.
"What happened? It looks like you've been in a baking battle." I get a brief smirk out of him, enough for me to capture his attention. "Sorry, I need a new oven. How are you?" he says wiping his forehead with a towel.
I tell him I can't find Buttercup and it's the first time he's gone missing after he came back. Peeta frowns and shrugs.
"I guess I thought he followed you here last night. After you decided to go home," I try not to sound resentful but I do. I thought he was going to stay over again, though I can't blame him for leaving. I'm not always the best company one can have, though I understand yesterday was a hard day for Peeta. He pretends he didn't catch my last words and just motions for us to leave the house and look outside. I don't know why I'm so worried about that stupid cat but I can see now there's a storm coming and if something happens to him I think Prim would not forgive me. Prim. I feel a weight in my stomach but try to ignore it. I am on a mission right now. Peeta walks ahead of me as we survey the Victor's Village. Nothing.
"Katniss, I have to go back. I have an appointment with Dr. Aurelius in a few minutes," Peeta says when we make our way back to the front of his house.
"Okay. I have to keep looking though."
"All right. But don't worry. I'm sure he's fine." He kisses my forehead and walks inside. I'm paralysed for a few seconds, no longer used to displays of affection like these coming from Peeta. Thunder brings me back to reality, so I shake Peeta off my mind and turn on my heels towards town. My plan is to go by Greasy Sae's first. She's become a usual visitor, so it's quite possible Buttercup could have gone after her. Especially since she always smells of food.
I find Greasy Sae alone with her granddaughter. Whatever she's cooking smells delicious and it reminds me that I left home without eating anything. She tries to feed me breakfast, but the lightning outside gives me a sense of urgency. The sky that looked slightly grey earlier has turned almost charcoal. My next guess is to go back to our old house, even if it's not there anymore. With demolition completed, the Seam is nothing but an open field. I focus on the trees when I get there, but I am out of luck. Drops of water begin falling so hard, they'd hurt my skin if it wasn't for my jacket.
"Buttercup, where are you? Buttercup?" I call for him, but there's not a soul in sight. I walk towards the fence. Could it be? I look up to the three from which I fell and hurt myself shortly after Gale's whipping. I've seen Buttercup climb it before, though its only inhabitant is a scarred but lucky squirrel. If I had my bow and arrows, he'd be dinner.
I call for Buttercup again. Then again. As the rain gets heavier, I start screaming his name. The raindrops make it hard to see and hear. It's pointless to keep looking, but I can't turn away. I continue my search towards the Justice Building. The rain is cold and now that my jacket is drenched, I'm shivering.
"Buttercup! You stupid cat, where are you?"
I'm in a daze. I can't see anything beyond a foot away from me anymore and the storm is the only sound in my ears. I'm screaming for Buttercup when I see a blur in the distance. It looks so... familiar. Her blonde hair drips down as she twirls on her feet. It's gone as soon as I blink. I'm pushing through the heavy rain, chasing the blur. I don't know where it went, but I must find it. I'm running as the cold water hugs me, encloses me. My foot catches on something and I hit the ground, face down. The pain in my chin is immediate and my instinct is to turn around on my back. Only the rain is falling directly on my face now and I can't breathe.
"Prim!" I scream with the last breath of me. Nothing. "Prim." This time I whisper. My tears join the rain. She's gone and I'm going to lie here forever.
I turn to my side and let the rain penetrate my clothes, hoping it can pierce through my skin and wash me away with the dirt. My hiccups make me gasp for air, though I don't want to. Breathing hurts. I can't anymore. I can't anymore.
"Katniss!"
Someone is shouting my name. I should answer back. But I can't anymore.
"Katniss!"
I open my eyes to meet his blue ones. Little drops of rain stuck in his eyelashes. Peeta lifts me up in his arms and carries me home. My head on his chest adds one more sound to the thundering storm. His heartbeat is strong and steady.
"I can't anymore," I tell him.
"You can. I'm here," he assures me.
I must have drifted in and out of consciousness, because I barely remember being put in my bed. I'm lying on a pile of towels, with a few blankets over me. I'm not wearing my hunting jacket and I find it hanging from the chair where Peeta's sitting, watching over me. His eyes meet mine and he finds room next to me. My head hurts and my eyes are heavy.
"I'm cold," I mutter, and Peeta comes closer under the blankets. His clothes are still wet, but his skin is warm to the touch. It's like we're sharing a sleeping bag again in the cave while the rain falls mercilessly. I must have been talking to Peeta in my sleep, because I hear his voice in my ears as if there was still morphling in my blood.
"Always," he whispers. The storm subsides. I can't tell if I'm dreaming or awake. And I honestly forget if that even matters in my mind's fragile state.
In the morning, I'm alone in bed. I look for signs of Peeta in my room and conclude I dreamed it all when I find none. Except there's noise coming from downstairs. I come down a few steps, just enough to peak into the kitchen. Peeta's cooking and there's fresh bread on the table. The same table where Buttercup sits watching Peeta the same way he watches television. Puzzled, I walk in and take a seat, letting Peeta pour tea in my mug and place a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me.
"You stayed," I comment. It's the only coherent thought in my head. Peeta just smiles, knowing he already gave me the answer.
A/N: Sorry it took so long. Alas, here it is. And thanks for the reviews and pms.. they really help me develop a story. So please review if you can! Also, many thanks to my beta-reader Alexis (pearlsandlockets[.]tumblr[.]com) for all the help and ideas. I'm going to work on Chapter 12 this week, but Chapter 13 might take a while. I'm defending my MA thesis next week so I have to focus on that.