Cest La Mort: The Civil Wars.
Months passed without him. I would stand on the shore each day as if I thought he would come home by boat, or in the sea. He of course never did. It was silly that I would hope so much everyday and then face a painful disappointment. On my birthday, I had wished for him. If I saw a shooting star, I would wish for him. It was silly, so terribly crazy of me…I wouldn't have hoped or wished or waited for anyone else. But I couldn't help but sit and wait for my Finnick to return. Every day I'd walk out to the shore and just walk the beach, and every day I'd go back home and dwell in an impending sadness. Although I tried to make it seem as if nothing had been wrong, I knew my parents could tell. "Annie, darling, are you alright?" My mother would ask. They would all watch me with sympathetic eyes, but I pretended as if nothing had been wrong. I pretended as if Finnick's absence hadn't taken any toll on me. I was only fooling myself. "This is about Finnick," My father said to me one day. I had gone to the pools to check on our nets and he was already sitting on the edge of one, staring into the water.
"What Papa?" I asked quietly.
"Oh, Annie…You can't hide anything from your mother…and if I've caught on, you know you haven't been very discreet," Father chuckled. "You miss Finnick." I began to defend myself, but he stopped me. "Listen Annie, I know we Crestas have had quite a past with the Odairs but even I won't deny the good that's come from us all putting business aside. So, don't you." He said gently, tugging at the nets and then placing them back in the water. He told me to help him and I did, tugging at the end closest to me.
"I just don't want to miss him Papa," I sighed as I pulled at the net. We had caught enough to sell to the Capitol, the people of District Four, and have a small helping left on our table.
My father chuckled again. "Why not?" His dark hair had begun to go grey, and his smile was aged. My father, the man with few words always knew what to say.
I felt silly asking, but I did, "Because what if he doesn't come back?" It was a childish question and I was ashamed just asking, so I stared at the net with wriggling fish.
My father kneeled at the rocks of the pool taking the still fish and tossing them in a pail. "He'll come back, don't worry darling." He smiled and I never felt so much love for my father. He had wittingly just given his approval of Finnick and knowingly encouraged it.
"Thanks Papa." A genuine smile crossed my lips and my father dropped the net giving me a brief hug, a kiss on top of the head, and an accolade that went along the lines of "That's my girl."
From then on, being without Finnick didn't seem as painful. Unfortunately, enough there were days when I thought pangs of missing him would destroy me. But then, there were terrifying days when I didn't miss him, didn't think about him, just forgot about him. I hated those days the most, but he had been gone for so long I eventually grew to live without him again. I was a year older when he came back home, but he had only been home for a week and most of that time had been spent with some Capitol guest or at a party thrown by the Capitol at the Justice Building. We didn't get to speak that week, except for one night when he had snuck out of his house to see me.
He tapped on the back door of my cottage and I crept through the kitchen to greet him without waking my parents. He told me he missed me, told me that I would love the Capitol, but I disagreed. I didn't like anything that came from the Capitol. Finnick said it took getting used to but didn't press the issue. So instead, we laughed about the ridiculous things people of the Capitol would do. We laughed about some of his interviews and how silly they seemed. He would tell me secrets that he would hear in his dressing rooms or jokes that he thought deserved to be told again. He had smiled at me constantly and when the night became quiet and the dawn was approaching, we said our goodbyes. I wanted to cry when we went our separate ways. "Goodbye Annie." He said with a solemn smile. And I waved, walking away with tears in my eyes. Don't go without me. I thought as I walked home, without him. He left that morning and didn't come back for another six months.
When he did come back, it was reaping again. He stood on stage beside Mags, the older woman who had mentored him, uncomfortably. But he pretended he belonged. I stood in the crowd, nervous, but safe. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to speak with him while his new tributes were being prepared. He left again, only to come back two months later when his tributes were brutally murdered. Finnick wouldn't talk much then. He seemed disturbed by something but would never tell me. He did insist on spending time together though. So between reaping we would spend time together trying to talk about the easier things in life, but that became difficult as easy things started disappearing more and more each day. Instead, we would fish and swim and sometimes we would just sit on the bank and joke about silly things that used to be. And when he was there, I loved him, but when he left I was broken. It was after my sixteenth birthday that I knew I had to move on. Finnick and I stayed separated and although I hated not being around him, I knew no hatred of our situation would change a thing. I wouldn't ever have Finnick Odair.
So, I stopped. I stopped wondering about him, I stopped searching to learn about how he was, I stopped asking questions, thinking about him, wanting him…I hadn't watched the parties much on television. I hadn't kept up with his appearances, or his interviews, or his flaunting. I grew to forget Finnick Odair and some days that would hurt me, but some it was like any other scar that appears on the surface of the skin.
I was out near the docks one day. I had spent most of my time with old school friends that I had neglected over the years. They willingly accepted me back, asking me usually about Finnick and what he was like, if they could talk to them, if I thought he was cute or if I loved him. I would answer their questions, and usually with a no. It had been a long afternoon of talks about when he'd come home or who would be next…because after all, reaping was just a few months away. I tried to ignore it. I walked home from the wharf and let them gaggle on. And when I was hoping my mother would be greeting me, another face appeared instead.