Part One
Chapter Seven
Author's Note: Since I'm at the halfway point of Part One, I thought I'd say hello and thank you to those of you who have happened upon "Reprieve." I know you want to hit your head against the wall. I feel your pain. Hang in there.
I call Annie on my way to the apartment, sobbing, frantic and needing someone to talk some sense into me. What had I done?! Peeta is so completely ingrained in my life and here I am abandoning him at his darkest time. I shunned the one person who always—always—was there for me. God, I am heartless.
Annie arrives and immediately pulls me into a hug. "Katniss, you need to calm down. Breathe in, breathe out." She hands me a glass of water and pulls me to the couch, rubbing my back.
"Annie, I need him to understand! I broke him! I broke us!"
She is eerily calm. "Katniss, you have to know that isn't true. I know you both tried to put on brave faces, but we've all known this might happen for a while now. Yes, the timing sucks, but we saw it coming. You did. Peeta did, too. He wouldn't tell you that now, but—."
"This is my fault! Who would tell Peeta no? He's so perfect and…perfect! He loves me! Every piece of fucked up me! Who would be so stupid as to throw that away?"
"Putting Peeta on some crazy pedestal hasn't done him any favors. And Katniss, I'd say the same thing to Peeta about you. He isn't perfect…far from it. Neither are you. But love isn't about dependence like that. Two people are supposed to become even more dynamic when they find the right kind of love. I love you both, but from an outsider's perspective, you've forgotten who you are. You've forgotten who is it that you want to be."
How did she know? How could she explain it so easily when I couldn't even begin to describe what had been gradually taking place? I breathe in rapidly and begin to hiccough. "I don't know who I want to be. I assumed that whoever I was, it would be fine as long as I was with Peeta."
"If you don't know who you are, how can you expect anyone else to know and love you for it?"
I lean into Annie and cry until the tears refuse to come anymore.
…
The apartment is dark when I wake up. I find my phone and see that I have 12 messages from Gale alone, but I ignore those and dial the number I somehow still know by heart. After all these years, it comes to me like my social security number.
"Who's this?!"
"Uncle Haymitch, it's Katniss. I'm coming back to Amherst."
"You driving?"
"Yes."
"Fine."
I end the call and walk to the bathroom, flipping the light on. I run cold water over my face and open the medicine cabinet, pulling the essentials into my bag. I go to the closet and do the same, flinging shoes into a suitcase before topping them with jeans, t-shirts and sweatshirts. I shove socks, bras and underwear into every available crevice.
In my room I find some old paperbacks and journals that I keep with me, as well as a stuffed dog I've had since I was in the third grade21. I grab these things and the picture of my father before packing it all up in the main room. I finish and stand, looking around at this piece of my history—our history—before turning off the lights, locking the door and walking to my car.
I loop the capitol square and head down East Wash, glancing at the capitol building in my rearview mirror22.
The radio is tuned to Triple M23 and I listen to the station until static takes over.
…
I've reached Pennsylvania before the pure adrenaline has worn off and I need to find a place to sleep for a few hours. Red Roof Inn calls to me from the highway and I pull over to grab some fast food and rent a room. For the first time since I left Madison, I turn my phone on and listen to the relentless chiming of voicemail alerts. Gale times 20, Prim twice, my mom once, Annie, Madge and…Peeta. I owe everyone an explanation, but I don't even know how to explain this to myself. I chicken out and text Prim.
On my way 2 MA. Tell Mom. I'll call when I can. 143.
I turn the phone back off, take a swig of my Diet Coke and pull the comforter straight off the bed before laying on top of the sheets. I don't dream.
The next morning I take a much-needed shower, braid back my hair and brush my teeth, feeling a million times better already. There's a Dunkin' Donuts near the highway and I smile, knowing that this means I'm getting closer to New England. Screw Starbucks; I order a large, light and sweet and continue east.
The toughest (or most boring stretch) is the New York State Thruway, but by 6:30 I'm in Massachusetts and on my way through the Pioneer Valley24. I wasn't old enough to drive when we lived here, but every turn I make feels as routine as if I had lived here all my life. Route 9 is still a nightmare, the two lanes making it impossible to drive without constantly tapping the breaks. Thousands of people are either making their way to UMass or are leaving the campus, all via the only road that meets up with I-91.
I turn onto Rte. 47 and am transported back in time. The tobacco barns that dot the landscape all have their cladding boards open, allowing the air to cure the leaves that hang upside down25. There's a cart of vegetables at the end of a long driveway, encouraging people to stop, grab some corn for dinner and leave their change. Mapleline Dairy26 is open, a high school kid inside is selling milk in glass bottles. A massive hydrangea bends in the breeze.
The long gravel drive hides the house from view, which is exactly why Haymitch built behind this cluster of trees…he didn't want to see the road, only the tobacco field and sky. The house looks like it's tired, the white boards now grey and the green shutters peeling. Bushes are overgrown and the grass has gone to seed. The whole place has "Haymitch" written all over it.
I put the car in park and just stare. How did I get here? Then I unbuckle my seatbelt and curl my arms around the wheel, leaning my forehead against the leather. But I'm here. Home.
Time to face my new reality. I walk to the front door, pull on the screen and call, "Haymitch?" No answer. The place smells like old person, sweat and sap. When was the last time he opened the windows? "Haymitch?"
The house is as filthy as I remember it. As a girl, I made the mistake of wearing new winter boots in here and then standing with one foot on the other. The dust and soot from the ancient coal furnace was everywhere, relentlessly tracking black on the floors and thus, my boots. He's since switched to gas heat but never bothered to clean up the residue. Shocker.
I round the corner to the kitchen and see my uncle at the table, bottles scattered around him. He hasn't shaved in God knows how long, his hair is stringy and he looks yellow. Trash removal is apparently optional here and I think I just saw a mouse run across the kitchen counter. The faucet that has always leaked plink—plink—plinks water into the sink.
"Haymitch."
He looks up wearily, trying to focus and belches. "Sweetheart. What are you running from this time?"
Uncle Haymitch has had an interesting role in the Everdeen family. Not really an uncle at all, Haymitch was my father's best friend and a constant presence in my life growing up. Crass and rude, my dad truly believed that his friend was a positive influence in the upbringing of his girls. Truth: we learned how to throw knives at the dead tree in the side year. Truth: we knew more swear words than any other grade-schoolers. Truth: we knew more about moonshine than any law-abiding citizen ever should. Haymitch's legendary status made him an ally we were often glad to have. Right now, I'd be glad if he took a bath.
"None of your business. What the hell have you done to the place?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this your caring, nurturing side? Or perhaps your 'tough love' side? It's always hard to tell with you."
I hate it that he knows me so well. I stand there for a minute, holding his gaze.
"Can I stay here? At least until I find something else? I'll make myself useful and stay out of your way."
"I promised your dad I'd look out for you," he coughs and looks out the kitchen window. "Though I'm not sure why I'd go out of my way after all this time." He pauses and looks back at me, unwavering. "Wouldn't back down on something like that. Back bedroom is yours."
I nod and turn, moving toward the staircase and up to the second floor. For some reason Haymitch has never used the second story of his place. Everything he needs is downstairs, or so he says. There are two bedrooms up here that Prim and I played in when we came over when we were kids, as well as a small bathroom. I lean on the door frame of one of the bedrooms and remember the day when Dad died. Haymitch had been the one to come upstairs, interrupting our game with the news that shattered our family. He held us as we screamed, his tears making it real.
I shake my head trying to rid myself of the memory and take a good look around. Aside from needing to be swept, dusted and wiped down, there wasn't anything to clutter the space. A double bed, dresser, desk and chair completed the room. The second bedroom mirrored the first and the bathroom just needed some scrubbing. I decide to open the windows, strip the beds to wash the sheets and get settled.
It is past midnight when I finally succumb to exhaustion. I'd start to tackle the downstairs tomorrow, but right now I didn't have the energy to dream.
Chapter Seven Notes
21. That dog? It exists.
22. True story. I looked at the capitol in my rearview mirror when I left Madison to move to New York after graduation. Cried like a baby.
23. Triple M. WMMM in Madison is hands down the best radio station in the city.
24. Pioneer Valley/Happy Valley. Amherst, Northampton, Hadley and that whole Connecticut River Valley area is known as the Pioneer Valley.
25. Tobacco farming. You wouldn't necessarily think of Massachusetts as being a big tobacco area, but back in the day, it was. There are still many working tobacco farms.
26. Mapleline Farm and Dairy. Family-owned dairy that you can stop and purchase items in, or schedule home delivery. Down the road from where I lived in Hadley.