Seasons of Wither, Chapter 4
Over the next few weeks, I spend my mornings hunting with Gale before school while trying to ward off my constant nausea that only seems to have worsened over the past few days. Things are going more smoothly between us now, but I can't help but to think that something must be affecting the wildlife surrounding our district. We are bringing in less rabbits now, even though spring is the season when they are usually so abundant. There are still squirrels, but they seem to be skinnier than they used to, emaciated almost. I contribute the decline in wildlife to other hunters, even though we very rarely hear of anyone else sneaking beyond the fence to poach.
Gale, of course, has different ideas about the situation.
"I told you there was something going on out here!" he roars early one Sunday afternoon as we pack up our meager load. "It was only a few weeks ago that we had more game than we knew what to do with, and now we're bringing home two rabbits and three scrawny squirrels to be divided among eight people."
"Gale, calm down," I try to soothe him again. "These things happen. Sometimes the rabbit population drops. We've been hunting here a lot over the past few years, it's likely that we are to blame for this-"
"This big of a drop come suddenly after four years of hunting?" Gale asks, unconvinced. He sinks down onto the ground and sighs loudly. I do the same, patting him on his shoulder comfortingly in an effort to calm him down a little. It's too easy for him to lose his temper over something like this, and that will only make matters worse. I understand why he's upset, but I also know that ranting about it will do nothing to help our situation. "Look at you, Katniss. I know that you're hungry, and I can tell you've already thinned down some."
I look down because he's right. I've taken off some weight over the past few weeks, but only because of all of the vomiting I'm too scared to let him know about. "It's only because I put on some extra weight earlier this spring when things were better," I try to tell him.
"That's supposed to make me feel better? You were healthy, and now you're deprived," he says in disgust. "I hate rationing out meals for my brothers and sister every evening. I hate telling them no when I know they're still hungry. Letting Posy cry herself to sleep at night because her stomach won't stop growling. They're kids, Katniss. And all I can do is sit back and watch them suffer."
There's not much I can say to that, because it's an ongoing problem throughout the district, and he's not blowing anything out of proportion with his words.
"We have enough for tonight," I point out. "We'll trade the squirrels for bread and bring the rabbits home to make stew. We don't have a surplus, but it will keep our families fed for today. We'll just have to hunt more. We can make it through this, Gale."
"The baker would be crazy to give us more than half a stale roll for one of those scrawny things," he scowls, but the baker has been known to be very generous with his trades with us.
I twist the cap off of my canteen and urge Gale to drink before pulling the handful of crackers I'd been saving from my bag and offering him one. They are stale and tasteless, but I've taken to carrying a few with me since they are the only things that seem to help ward off my constant nausea. Gale bites into one and frowns.
"Would be better with goat cheese," he says, but I'm glad that I have none on hand to share with him.
I take a drink of water and start to think that I may have had too much when I feel it start to rise back up in my throat. Gale stares at me when my eyes begin to tear as I try desperately to choke back the impending nausea. I don't have time to pardon myself with the excuse of having to pee as I usually do, and instead bolt behind a tall nearby bush before heaving. My stomach is near empty today, and the only thing that I manage to bring up is the water and part of my cracker. It stings my throat and makes me feel just awful.
I hear Gale call after me as I heave a few more times before wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my hunting jacket. He's standing beside me now, softly tracing circles my back with the palm of his hand as I remain bent over with my hands braced on my knees, waiting to vomit again. Soon, my stomach finally settles itself and I stand to meet his worried gaze.
"You're sick." I can hear the distinct tone of concern in his voice and I hate it.
"I'm fine."
"You are not fine, I just watched you throw up everything in your stomach. You can't blame it on something you ate this time, because it's plain to see that you haven't eaten anything." He seems almost angry, but I don't feel well and the last thing I want to do is explain myself. Not with the overwhelming fear of pregnancy looming over me.
"I feel queasy. It's just a bug I picked up from one of my mother's patients. It happens."
Being the oldest of four siblings, I'm certain Gale is familiar with the signs of pregnancy. I've done my best to hide them from him since I'm not certain what this is yet. I've been contributing my recent illness to the stress that came with our falling out. However, Gale and I made amends two weeks ago, and my symptoms have only progressed since then.
Gale gathers our things quickly and wraps his free arm around my waist, directing me back towards the district. The feeling of his hands on me in an almost intimate way makes me feel awkward and reminds me of that day in the meadow. That irresponsible day in the meadow when nothing other than the fact that we were together seemed to matter. A vision of him moving atop me as I breathe heavy into his ear flashes in my memory, causing me to duck away from him.
"What are you doing?" I ask him, quickly pulling myself from his grasp.
"Helping you walk." I hate the look of hurt on his face and the fact that I had snapped so irritably at him.
"I'm nauseous, not crippled," I point out a little too harshly. I feel sick and exhausted and I can't seem to control my temper today. Another sign of pregnancy, the little voice inside my head mocks, and I mentally tell it to shut up.
After trading the squirrels for a small-but-dense loaf of bread and halving it, I'm surprised when Gale actually sees me to my house instead of veering off as we near his own. I don't object, only because I'm too exhausted from all of the walking around today to say anything about it. He pushes open the screen door that leads into our kitchen and sits me down at the table.
"Where does your mother keep the thermometer?" he asks, dropping his load.
"Gale-" I begin to object.
"Where's she keep it, Katniss?" he quickly interjects.
"The cabinet above the basin."
He retrieves one of my mother's glass thermometers and places it under my tongue after giving it a good shake. My gag reflex objects, but we manage to finally get a reading from the thing.
"No fever," he says before rinsing it off and placing it back into it's case.
"Can I go lie down now?" I ask him wearily. "I'm tired and I have a headache."
He nods before seeing me to the bedroom and pulling the blanket up to my chest, staring down at me apprehensively. I roll my eyes. "You can go, Gale," I finally tell him when I realize that he's not sure whether or not he should leave me alone. "I don't like that you're fussing over me." I don't, because it makes me feel weak and needy and he's never bothered to before.
"Sorry for caring," he mutters before turning to leave.
Unfortunately, there's no ignoring my symptoms anymore, and after a short nap, I root through my mother's large collection of medical books looking for an answer. She has a good collection of them—ones she'd taken from her parent's apothecary shop as well as ones she'd collected the information for herself. I flip open to a page on pregnancy and begin to take in the symptoms.
Madge once told me that in the Capital they have pregnancy tests that swab the inside of your mouth and give you a reading within seconds. Everything from the baby's gender to the paternity (because apparently this is a common problem among ladies in the Capital). We don't really have such luxuries here in the Seam. The wealthier people in town can afford a basic pregnancy test that you urinate on, but they are too expensive for us, so my mother often helps patients track their symptoms to confirm pregnancy.
Right now, the odds of this being something other than pregnancy are not in my favor, I think as I channel Effie Trinket.
Light bleeding, delayed menstruation, mood swings, tender breasts, fatigue, nausea, headaches, frequent urination, and food aversions. Seven out of ten, I note. Frowning, I reach up to touch my left breast and grimace at the soreness. Make that eight out of ten.
The front door of our home pops open in an instant and I slam the book I hold in my hands shut with a loud clap, startling both my sister and mother. They exchange a curious glance before moving inside to begin preparing dinner.
"Good to see you home, Katniss," my mother remarks in a pleasant voice.
"I killed a rabbit," I offer. "And we have bread."
She nods as she fills a stock pot with water and lights the fire on the stove before beginning to help me gather her books up off of the table. "Doing a little research, are we?"
"Studying up on my herbs," I mutter, but it's plain to see that I wasn't looking at the book of medicines. She doesn't question it though, and offers me a peculiar smile as I help her organize the books back on their shelf.
"Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?" she asks me. "You look a bit tired today."
"Fine. Better, anyways. I was a bit sick earlier, but I feel better now that I've slept," I assure her, but she doesn't say anything in reply. I know that my mother can tell that something is up with me. She can see that a person is sick just by looking at them, whether their symptoms are visible or not. I guess being in the business of healing all of her life is thanks to that.
I go to lie down right after dinner. Having something in my stomach helps, but I can only imagine how long it will actually stay down. It's bad enough that there's not enough to eat without the fact that I can't seem to keep any of it from coming back up. I think of all of the perfectly acceptable food that had been wasted this week thanks to my nausea.
I start to think about my probable pregnancy and how Gale will react when I tell him. I guess I have to, considering he will figure it out on his own before long. I can't exactly hide his child from him after all. I wonder if he will feel angry? I know that he won't be happy about more responsibility now that times are tough and he's struggling as it is to feed his little brothers and sister. Throwing an unwanted baby into the mix sure won't help matters.
Curiously, I run my hand over my abdomen, but feel only smooth skin there. According to Mother's books, I shouldn't get a belly until about three months or later if I am pregnant. I think I should be able to hide it until then, though I know waiting to tell everyone won't make this any easier. I just know that I can't tell Gale, not right now with the way things are. He's overstressed the way it is. Maybe it will all get better, I tell myself. Maybe we'll have better luck on our hunting trips from now on. I know that it's all wishful thinking though.
I cover my face with my hands and sigh because I have no clue how to handle this all.