Do I always have to start this way?
I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES.
The week that follows is somewhat better than the last few months. I'm waking up a little earlier, taking showers every other day, and actually carrying real conversations with people. I even call my mother.
The phone call I share with my mother is an emotional, tear-filled few hours. I'm not even sure how it started. One second I was eating breakfast, looking at her pile of letters. The next I'm cradling a phone to my ear, wiping the tears from my face as I dial her number. It seems that most of the things I choose to do nowadays are involuntary reflexes.
She's doing fine. She's working hard. She's still in District 4, and apparently there are still plenty that need to be cared for, even after so long. She told me about the cries she hears the patients make when they think about their loved ones…
She cries when we talk about Prim. We both do. She tells me, between sobs, that the Mockingjay's sister is quite well known around Panem now. She's greatly respected for selflessly putting herself out on the battlefield at such a young age, so eager to save as many people as possible, even knowing that it might cost her her life. Which it did.
My mother says that Prim has her name engraved on a golden plaque that hangs in the hospital lobby. Good. Good. It's the least of what she deserves.
I start visiting Haymitch again. Hazelle has been coming back to clean the place up. If it weren't for her, I'd probably have to wear boots in to keep from stepping on empty bottles of alcohol.
When I get upstairs, there's a plate of hot food in the hallway right outside his door. I sigh, and walk in to find him on the ground with his face buried in fallen sheets. This is the one place that Hazelle can't clean.
"Haymitch. Time to get up." I draw open the curtains that have probably been shut for weeks, then turn around and nudge his ribs with my foot. "Hey, get up." Ignoring his groans, I take him by the shoulders and sit him up. When I let go, he slumps back down again.
I roll my eyes and walk into the bathroom. I find a small bucket under the sink, and fill it with cold water. "Sorry, Haymitch…" I mutter. I pour it on him, and stop the second his eyes open and he starts sputtering, just like he had done the many times I've done this to him before.
"Katniss… I swear you're trying to kill me."
"Haymitch, I don't know how long you've been in here. I don't want to know. But I do know that it's been a while and you're going to rot if you don't get out." I say, tidying his sheets as I talk. "Now get up, eat your breakfast, and please, take a shower. You stink."
Haymitch seems a little more awake now. "It's funny, you know," he sits up and looks at me through squinted eyes. "Peeta came in some time ago and told me the same thing. I told him to let you do it for him. Can't remember, but pretty sure he laughed and left." I stare at Haymitch, smiling, waiting. He stares back for a moment, confused, then his eyes widen as the realization hits him. "Peeta!" He stands up, then sits back down again, moving a hand to his head.
I laugh. "Is that a hangover worth a week of drinking?" He groans in response. "Look," I turn around and grab the plate of food that Hazelle left for him, "eat this, and I'll go get Peeta. Okay?" He takes the plate without saying a word.
A few minutes later, I'm back in Haymitch's room with Peeta, smiling as I watch Haymitch try to greet him. Peeta was always his favorite. After a minute of comfortable silence, Haymitch suggests we go downstairs.
We sit in the living room and tell him about what's been happening with us. "You know, a week ago, Katniss looked exactly like you, only she smelled a little worse." Peeta laughs. I laugh with him, and Haymitch shakes his head and smiles. "Well, it was pretty dark without you here. Surprised Katniss is still alive after months without contacting you. She almost lost her mind the last time."
We all look down, each remembering our own horrors from that terrible time period. Peeta, no doubt, revisiting the Capitol torture cells, keeps his mouth shut tight and digs his fingers into the couch. Haymitch must be thinking of the bunker in 13.
I feel myself tense at the memories that flood through my mind. I think of Peeta's white, frail face staring at me through the TV screen, trying to warn us that we would be attacked, and being beaten as a consequence. I think of Gale, trying so hard to be there for me. Slipping me turnips after seeing how hungry I am. Being the first to offer to go rescue Peeta…
I shudder when I recall the feeling I got when I figured out what Snow was doing to Peeta, and how he was using him to get to me. I remember feeling like Buttercup, grasping for something that I knew was there, but forever out of my reach. I remember how I felt when I tried to imagine the world if both Peeta and Gale were silenced. Dead. I remember seeing myself stare out a vast, empty void of nothingness. I remember Haymitch offering to have me sedated until they got back. I can't help but wish I had some morphine in my blood right now.
"So what's Gale been up to?" The sound of Haymitch's voice interrupts my train of thought, and plants a new agony in my heart. I see Peeta's eyes go wide.
"He's been busy," he says, not letting me answer. "No one's contacted him in a while, but that's all about to change. Soon. Sometime soon." He gives Haymitch a look, and in a moment, Haymitch understands. He looks at me.
"Katniss. I'm sure he's fine."
Peeta was always the one that knew what to say, not Haymitch. He didn't see that that might be part of the problem. What if Gale is fine? What if he's getting on perfect since he stopped writing? Maybe even before that? He never mentioned if there was a girl. There must be a girl, he's Gale. Everyone wants him. I mean, he's Gale. More than half of the younger female population wants Gale. Because… because he's Gale!
I groan inwardly. I'm thinking so selfishly, but I can't find the stop button in me. How stupid would it be for me to be missing him so much, when he's not even thinking of me? He's got a life in Two. He's got a job. He's probably got a million girls begging him to follow them to the slag heap of their district.
I don't even realize I'm crying until Haymitch is crouching next to me, arms around my shoulders.
"Haymitch…Haymitch, I-" I feel so helpless, so pathetic, blubbering all over my mentor's shoulder. "It's- he's-" My chest hurts, my stomach aches, and my eyes are stinging.
"Shhh…I know, Katniss. I know." Haymitch rubs my back, ignoring the slime and tears I'm leaving on his sleeve.
"I… he… we never even said goodbye!" I burst out.
"Katniss…" Peeta's voice startles me. I'd completely forgotten he was there. "Katniss, he misses you. I'm sure of it. You'll see him again." I pull away from Haymitch and look up at Peeta. His eyes… he looks so sad. "You were best friends. You were incredibly close. No one can stop loving someone they were close to so fast. Especially if it's you."
I can't begin to imagine how much I must be hurting him. I feel like kicking myself. I keep hurting people! Gale, then Peeta, then Gale, then Peeta, and back and forth it goes. It's like every time I start to feel like I should fix things with one, I start hurting the other.
"In the meantime," he continues, "we're here for you. Both me and Haymitch. We'll eat with you, talk with you, and do everything to make you feel better." I feel Haymitch put his hand on my shoulder, and see him nodding. So that's what they do for the rest of the day. We found some snacks in the kitchen, and a dusty board game that Haymitch claims he never knew existed. Within an hour, they've taken most of my mind off of Gale, and I'm feeling a lot better.
It's dark when we start making our ways home.
I'm sorry it's a little slow, but I promise there will be more of Gale in the next one. Promise. With a virtual pinky.