I spread the remains of a doe across the wooden counter of a booth in the Hob, showcasing the fine, arrowhead wound in the middle of its eyes. I reach inside my game sack and pull out two rabbits, three tree lizards, and a squirrel. It was a good day in the woods today.
I glance up at the booth vendor and she is grinning at me like I have offered her gold. I fidget as she remains speechless at my sight, and I clear my throat. I am growing impatient and my eyes dart up, observing the flickering light bulb hanging over her head, and when I look back down, she is still grinning at me.
"I know you. You're the Mockingjay!" she says, her grin starting to irritate me. "Oh my goodness, Katniss Everdeen is right in here." She's trying to get everyone's attention but they're milling about, minding their own affairs. She tilts her head back towards me.
"Peeta...You and Peeta have gone through it all! You led the revolution of this country!," she sounds like a game show host, and is starting to remind me of Effie a lot. I can only handle one Effie in my lifetime. She suddenly clamps her mouth with her hands. "Are you two still together?," she asks through her interlaced fingers.
I force myself to smile and nod. I don't feel like socializing over dead animals right now, neither basking in my old glory nor squealing over love. And everybody here knows not to call me the Mockingjay anymore. It's a rule I have implemented years ago, back when I was roughly in my mid twenties, when I decided I have had enough with the label and I wanted to move on from being associated with the war. Other citizens from other districts had taken part and stepped up to resurrect Panem too. I was not the only star of the bloodshed.
I see a bony, wrinkly hand come from the side and push the attendant out of my view without much gusto, an exasperated Greasy Sae slowly shaking her head, and takes over. "Go on, get out of here and count all the change again, Lana, you're off by a couple of dollars," she tells the starstruck girl and she waves her hand goodbye to me. Greasy Sae is very old now, slower and significantly shorter in height, and insists that her heart will always belong to the Hob. She continues.
"She's new around here. Flew in from the Capitol a week ago, engaged to one of the locals who works here," she studies all the game scattered across the table below her and starts to reach for a huge wad of money from the front pocket of her animal blood-stained apron. "Sweet story. Gave me toothache. What's a better love than young love." She flips the bills, counting them at a leisurely pace, and hands them to me. A smile of approval crosses my face. This is really good money.
"Greasy Sae, how do you manage to stay young forever?" I ask her, feeling the lightest I've felt all day. She pulls out a wheel barrow from under the counter and starts to transfer over my trades.
"Must be all the squirrels in my diet. Crazy little critters..." she huffs and disappears into the back, pushing the wheel barrow along, and complaining about the new hire. Lana reappears, looking delighted to see Greasy Sae again, and takes over with moving the game.
It is a bit before 7 PM by the time I step out of the Hob. This was the second time today I traded valiantly, relentless in my pursuance of money. I am excited over a bank finally being built somewhere across Peeta's bakery, but for now I need to buy a bigger safe for my money, the ones with fancy locks.
I whistle as I pass by different stores in the town square, an extra bounce evident in my steps, my wallet feeling fat and confident. There is a retail stand selling men clothing that I've always wanted to look at, so I bounce towards it, and spot a nice, dark blue dress shirt for Peeta. I think blue definitely brings out his blonde quite well. And for the very first time, I don't ask the store attendant the price of an item.
I float across the street, not caring about a rush of people colliding their shoulders into mine, finding myself magnetized by a magazine stand. There is a new issue of that sports magazine Peeta reads religiously. It actually features a football player from our district on the front cover this time. I wince at the picture, trying to recognize him, but I can't. I bet Peeta knows him. I pull a copy off the rack and give the vendor a five dollar bill and neglect my change.
I move along and duck into the indoor market next and beam at the products Peeta would normally purchase for his baking. There's semi-sweet chocolate bars, flour, candy sprinkles, cupcake liners, and a brand new type of piping tube I don't think Peeta owns yet. I ponder, trying to recall if any of his stocks need refreshing. After a short consideration, I end up buying everything, leaving the store with two bags of groceries with a foolish, and an abnormally friendly grin on my face. This is where I put a limit to shopping for today.
There is still a little bit of light left from the sun, and I am walking by Peeta's bakery, avoiding all the construction on the other side of the street. I sigh as I sweep my eyes across. All the lights are off, and I have barricaded the windows shut with plywood from the inside since he won't be coming back in a while, to prevent imminent robbers that know about this bakery's inactivity. I glance down at my maple tree as I approach the door, trying to wrestle with my bag as I fetch the main key.
As soon as I swing the door open I am welcomed by a whiff of mixture of things that I never knew would mean so much to me. The wheels of my mind turn by themselves, digging up sweet, old memories that are tied down to these scents. It almost tickles, the way the hardwood floor smells. The furnitures. The brick oven that always smells burnt somehow despite Peeta's cleaning labour over it. Confetti candy. Flower candy. Muffins. Cinnamon. Strawberry loaves. Little baskets of strawberries. Cheese buns. Block of cheese. Icing. Chocolate. Bread.
I begin to subconsciously look for him, expecting him to appear from behind the oven, maybe wiping his hands on his apron. I slump and close the door behind me.
I feel something creep up in my eyes and I blink them away, angry at myself. No, I am not going to cry, I am not to be reduced to tears because of the smell of bread. I am stronger than this. I march to the counter behind the cash register and drop my grocery items. I line them up and admire them. Peeta will be pleased at this, that I have taken initiative to keep the shelves full. I begin to open the bottom drawer and pull a medium sized bag of flour and put it on the counter. It is half empty, and I take a mental note to purchase a whole sack tomorrow. I open a top drawer and spot the rest of the candy, and the ingredients that he uses to make it. They also find a spot on the counter.
Peeta has always hinted I should learn how to bake, and all I did was ignore him, in total disregard. Like I didn't care. He started hinting at it after he got tired of hinting to have children together. It was just lately when the talks about children have stirred up again. I can't really blame him. We are not getting any younger. I have never perceived Peeta as overly demanding, but when he actually does ask me of something, it always seems to be too much, too overwhelming. And now, it feels like I'm failing him all over and over.
Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can bake a loaf of bread for starters. Then maybe I can re-open this bakery while he's gone. Nothing is more basic than bread.
I am trying to sniff back a single, silent tear but it ends up rolling down my cheek.
I should do this. I should bake. What kind of a significant other would I be if I didn't support him? If I didn't tend to his needs and requests? Peeta never fails to please me. He hasn't failed me at all. I can do this. I whip my head aside, thinking it would prevent the second teardrop from threatening to gush out of my other eye.
The chalkboard hanging on the wall by the window catches my attention. I approach it, attracted by his writing.
Check if there is still yeast
Yeast. Of course yeast! How could I have forgotten? I will check if there is any left.
I am clawing at cupboard handles and drawer knobs, opening and slamming them close, in search of yeast. Yes, I can't bake without yeast. It is needed so that the bread could rise. He told me this once, when he was mopping this same floor clean one night and I was frowning at my pathetic attempt to a cheese bun.
"Where is that damn yeast," I ask no one in particular out loud, borderline delirious.
I grunt out of frustration as I kneel down and frantically open the bottom drawer and send muffin tins, cake trays, a colander, and various shaped cutters out of drawers and sliding across the floor, the simultaneous clattering noises alarming even myself. "Need yeast..." I am grumbling, and livid, and suddenly very exhausted. My hand comes up to my face and realize that I am crying, wiping my sleeve on my chin. My knees become glued to the floor, and instead of standing up, I fold and sit down, my back resting against a metallic pie rack, feeling defeated.
My sobs die down. "I'm sorry Peeta," I whisper quietly, for failing to find yeast, and for all the times I took him for granted.
Eight days. It has been eight days since he has left for Four. I knock reminders into myself once in a while to keep a positive attitude about his absence so I won't miss him so much, and because he will return to me one day. But I find it difficult, because I've built my life around him and he plays a huge part in it, that there is a gaping hole now, and I can't help but skirt around it until I'm emotionally drained.
It's been real quiet on the weekends because no one is lounging on my couch watching movies on TV. And I think Pebbles senses he's away again, because I catch her sitting in front of the door when afternoon comes, waiting for the clanking of the doorknob, and lately she has been approaching me with her squeaky toy duck, drops it in front of me and just lays down on the floor.
Today my students gathered around my desk after the bell, and gave me hugs after handing me a white, single stem tulip. They have noticed that Peeta stopped visiting the class to pick me up, and they tell me they miss teasing him by the doorway. I couldn't explain prison to them for now, and I'm sure they have overheard their parents or other adults gossip about the shooting incident. I have heard numerous versions of what supposedly has transpired, but the juiciest one has got to be the rumour of that one visit to the district that Gale made a while ago, that resulted to Peeta's jealous rage. Although I can't see how people piece that back to the fact that the shooting took place in a cemetery.
I walk home from school with my stem of tulip, surrounded by promises of spring, as dandelions bloom and burst in bright yellow, and the smell of freshly cut grass and wet earth renew my senses. I notice the mailbox flap is open and I see mail stashed inside. I reach in and pull out water bill, electricity bill, a town square event flyer, and letter from a Peeta Mellark, with a return address to 655 Backbarrier Avenue, District 4.
May 25
Dear Katniss,
How are you and Pebbles? I hope this letter finds you well. I have settled in nicely in the residency Doctor Aurelius provides during treatment. The facility is massive, it takes up a whole block! It has a library full of neat books, a media room with a really, really big TV, you are not going to believe the size of it, and a garden in the west wing with small fountains and benches where I can sit while I paint. I was able to meet with doctor right away, and he put me through my first assessment. He is very baffled by my latest episode, and he is determined to figure out what had triggered it.
Everybody here is nice, it's easy to get comfortable in and feel at home. Although, I miss ours.
Peeta.
June 9
Dear Katniss,
Today I was subjected to a memory test and I had to wear a device over my head. I must've passed out because when I opened my eyes again, five minutes disappeared. We were given plenty of activities, from writing to drawing, and answering multiple questions. For some reason I had large strokes of black paint all over my paper. It was quite alarming. Doctor Aurelius gave me four days worth of pills to take until my next test.
I was talking to another patient in the middle of the hall yesterday, and I actually saw your mom with a group of other doctors and she just glanced at me and walked past me. She probably hates me. I'll try to catch her again next time and maybe we can have a proper conversation.
Peeta.
July 11
Dear Katniss,
I just underwent a long, painful test. I was lying down in probably the most sterile room in the facility, and it took the whole morning. So glad it's over. I have a headache, it's the worst headache I have ever had. I can feel my nerves throb. I think I'm confining myself in my room for the rest of the day, maybe the rest of the week, I don't know. I was planning on finishing my painting today in the garden, the weather has been excellent complete with sunshine and everything, but I don't think I can even handle a paintbrush.
It's so cold, but it's ok because I have a blanket :) I wish you were here to take care of me.
Peeta.
August 20
Dear Katniss,
I miss the way you curl into my arms when I pull you in. I miss how you scowl at me when I tickle your kneecaps, but I don't miss how hard you pinch the fat on my sides when you retaliate. I miss how your head randomly pops out of nowhere in the most awkward angles before you ask me for a kiss. I miss how your bread never seems to rise when you defy my baking instructions. And I miss how hard you laugh at it. I miss how you try and look interested when I talk about football, but you listen anyway. I know you can't even understand the sport. I miss how you wrinkle your nose at me when we fight, and you don't even know you're doing it. Then you tell me to go away, but you're always the first to make up with me.
I miss how you cling and wrap your arms around mine when we walk together. It's like saying that I am yours and you are mine.
Peeta
September 19
Dear Katniss,
Doctor Aurelius set up another appointment today and reviewed my condition. He is very happy with my progress and how well my results have been coming back. He has one final test lined up for me, that will ensure I have zero percentage of dormant venom hiding in cells that are unlikely to house them in the first place. He won't release me this time until he is completely confident. I take comfort in that.
Do you remember Annie Odair? I was perusing in the town square and she bumped into me. Literally. She was chasing her son around, I think he grabbed an apple from a vendor and took off. He looks a lot like Finnick. I was able to play with him, the kid is very smart. And he'll probably break alot of hearts in the future, just like his dad.
It's getting chilly again. Stay warm.
Peeta.
October 12
Dear Katniss,
You have no idea how nervous I was when I was finally able to talk to your mother. She didn't have the same hostile look when we first met. I apologized about what happened to us, to you, and told her that I'm here in Four to get one final treatment so we both can have peace of mind. It took a while, but I think she has softened up to me. I told her I am in love with you and I can't let anything come between and ruin what we have.
Doctor Aurelius signed my release form this afternoon. I'm coming back home.
I finished my painting, and I'm sending it to you with this letter. It's a willow tree I found in the far end of the garden, but it's way smaller than the one in our district. It reminded me of you.
October 14
Dear Peeta,
Everything reminds me of you.
I'll see you again.
Love, Katniss
A/N: Ok so I am finally down with something. Could be the change in weather, or all the virus in this office. I finally gave in and I am sick :\ So what do you get when you have Delirious!Author? you get Delirious!Katniss in the bakery.
I realized I do not like Absent!Peeta so I find myself compacting the story and cutting the in-between fillers shorter than I had originally planned. I hope you don't mind. I like being able to play around with his character.