Page 73: Back in our old quarters at the Training Center, I'm the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. "I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say. "Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real."
The door closes behind me and I sink to the floor, my head in my hands. The words came so freely from her. The girl who swore that she wasn't good at saying something ended up being the one to have the last word. Irony is so thick that I want to choke on it. She doesn't realize the effect that she has even after all this time. Falling into the snow, climbing into bed, holding her hand; each of these should be a treasured memory stored away to be looked back on fondly. Instead, they are one more cut that slowly bleeds me dry.
I saw Haymitch wince when she blurted the idea out. By then, it was a foregone conclusion that we had failed to convince the districts that what happened in the Arena was for love alone. They saw revolution in a handful of berries held up by two desperate kids who just wanted to live. It was coming regardless of what we said or did. The lid had been kept on too long and the boiling point had finally been reached. I couldn't understand exactly what it was about our actions that tilted the balance until the moment those words left her lips. Now, I grasp the importance of the moment. There was no plan, no prior knowledge, and no hint of what was to come. It struck like lightning and in that bright merciless glow, everything else got lost. Haymitch saw me break. He knew what this act would cost me. She was, of course, completely oblivious.
I go to the closet and remove a small box that I brought with me from home. I have taken to keeping it with me always. I flip it open and look at the contents with an uncomfortable burning in my eyes and a lump in my throat. My father, who had both been there for me and abandoned me to hell, had given it to me before I left. He knew that Katniss and I had rarely spoken in the six months since I came home. The day he found me on the floor and brought Haymitch to talk me down was the closest that he had come to seeing the state I lived in. It could be said that he was deliberately blind. It was a talent that he had perfected over sixteen years. Every time that there was a new bruise or mark, he would appear with kind words, a sympathetic ear, and a gentle touch. I couldn't help but wonder where these things were while she was taking me apart. He never intervened or prevented but he comforted after the fact. My life, it seems, has always been founded on paradox.
The ring inside was simple as most things in District Twelve tend to be. It was a plain white gold band with three stones in the setting. The middle stone was as black as coal dust and flanked by two clear, pear-shaped gems. My father had been oddly reticent when he had handed over the box. He had watched in silence when I opened it and examined the ring. "That was your grandmother's," He volunteered before I could ask the question. "It's been in the family for years. I kept it put away and wondered if I would get the chance to pass it on. This seemed like as good a time as any." I bit my lip as my fist tightened around the box. I gave him a brief acknowledging nod. "I know that I've not always been the best father to you, Peeta. I could have done so much more. I loved you but sometimes that isn't enough. I thought once that I would give this ring to the woman I loved but I never got the chance. I put it away and hoped that one day my sons would continue the tradition. When we knew for sure that you were coming home, I got this back out and promised myself that I would give it to you at first opportunity." He smiled slightly at my bewildered expression and closed my fingers around the box. "I don't understand what has been going on. You don't have to tell me unless you want to. I don't even know if you'll have the chance to use this but I want you to have it. You have loved her since you were five, Peeta. Don't give up just yet."
Those words echo in my head as I look down at my father's parting gift. Sometimes, love isn't enough. It's strange that of all the things my father told me, those words are the ones that I remember. I pull the ring from its box and hold it in my closed fist, the metal cool against my palm. It symbolizes so much for such a tiny thing. The fact that he never gave it to my mother doesn't surprise me. I've known since I was five years old that my father loved another more than he did the woman he married. I was too young to understand the longing and loss in his voice as he told me about losing a girl to a coal miner who made the birds go quiet when he sang. I didn't grasp the scars that my father carried as I listened to him in the schoolyard. I recognize that ache now better than I ever wanted to.
I hear a muffled knock and hastily tuck the ring back into the case. Slipping it unobtrusively into my pocket, I quickly open the door. Haymitch stands in the hallway shifting uneasily from foot to foot. His gray eyes dart up to meet mine. He clears his throat and fumbles out, "Anything you want to talk about, boy? I'm not much of a listener but I can try." His hand removes the flask from his front pocket and he takes a hurried sip. A rapid intake of breath marks the burning of the white liquor's passage and he dry swallows a couple of times to relieve the searing in his throat. I shake my head but stand aside to allow him entrance. He shuffles in and flops down in the only chair available, his eyes examining me closely. "It's a good idea, kid. It just might work. After everything that's happened, the girl's desperate."
I can't stop the annoyance that crosses my features as he defends her. He, of all people, should know how difficult these events will be for me. He knows that it was never a show on my part. I meant everything. I didn't have to pretend on the Tour. Despite the fact that we've been less than civil at home, it was all too easy to slip back into my part as a boy besotted. It wasn't a role for me. I am and always will be in love with the Girl on Fire. "I've already said that I'll do it, Haymitch. You don't need to give me a pep talk. I'll make sure that we're convincing."
He gives me a scathing look that I've become quite familiar with. Usually, it's turned on Katniss but I have earned my fair share over the last few months. I can't stop the grin that flashes briefly as he snorts and takes yet another long pull from his flask. "I'm not worried. You always handle yourself well. I don't expect this time will be any different. But I know this isn't how you wanted it to be. Can you handle that?"
I smile ruefully and nod my head. "I will admit that it isn't exactly what I had in mind but I can make it work, Haymitch. Don't worry." I meet his gaze squarely and put everything I have into making my expression persuasive. The old man lets out a disgruntled sigh and climbs to his feet. I forego my Capital mask and give him a legitimate smile. "I will give them a good show, Haymitch. Don't worry. I'll be fine."
He lets out a deep breath, finally mollified and heads toward the door. Pausing, he turns back. "Be ready to go in a couple of hours. We wouldn't want the Princess to get her corset in a twist." I grin and wave my hand toward the door. He gives me a sour look and then heads back to his quarters. I pull the ring out of my pocket and look at it in a considering fashion. Do I want to give it to her like this? Do I want to reduce it to a ploy in this charade for the Capital's delectation? I hear Portia's knock at the door and hurriedly shove the ring back out of sight. I don't know what I will do at this moment but the fact remains that one of the biggest questions of my life will be answered tonight.
Page 74: When he asks us about the future, Peeta gets down on one knee, pours out his heart and begs me to marry him. I, of course, accept.
The closer it gets to show time, the tighter the knot in my stomach becomes. I don't know how I will make it through tonight without breaking down. They expect the star-crossed pair, giddy in love and thrilled to be back in the place where it all began. They want a show and we're the performers expected to provide it. Never mind that my heart is both pounding and breaking at the same time. How is that even possible? Portia watched me carefully as I got ready for the big moment. The suit that she provided was immaculate as always. It fit me perfectly and I gave her a tiny smile as she leads me to the stage. "Good luck," she whispered and patted my arm. I nod and squeeze her hand before letting go. "Peeta," she said quietly. I turn back and meet her gaze expectantly. She smiles and whispers, "Remember, it's about you and Katniss. Talk to her. Speak from your heart. That's all any woman can ask for." I silently mouth, "Thank you" as the stage hands lead me to the tube which will raise me to the stage. She nods and then walks away. I feel the lift start to rise and blow out a deep breath to calm my clamoring nerves.
The stage looks exactly the same. Caesar Flickerman still has his powder blue façade from the Games. His midnight blue twinkling suit is immaculate as always. He stands at ready attention and smiles broadly as we are lifted into view. He announces us quite unnecessarily as the Capital denizens are already screaming our names. I lift my hand and wave lazily to the horde and see Katniss do the same from the corner of my eye. We meet at the loveseat and greet Caesar cordially. I look at her for the first time and feel my heart leap into my throat. Cinna has outdone himself. The dove gray dress falls in soft waves to her feet. It picks up the silver tones in her eyes and magnifies them until they shine like mirrors. The underskirt and detailing about the asymmetrical neckline is a soft glowing sunset orange. Her hair is in its customary braid but adorned with opal tipped pins which catch and reflect the light. She shines like the sun and I am lost. How can I keep my heart out of this when the very sight of her makes me want to fall to my knees and proclaim my undying devotion? How can I play the game when I would give anything for it to be real?
I rein myself in yet again and sit next to her on the loveseat that has been ours since winning the Games. She doesn't curl her feet up and lean into me this time. However, her hand does find mine and I feel myself steady as our fingers mesh. Caesar smiles at us indulgently and asked inane questions about our lives since we last spoke. My paintings and her clothing line take up most of the segment. Caesar spends an inordinate amount of time studying each offering and asking leading questions about inspiration and influences. Katniss, of course, has an easier time because she credits both Cinna and Portia with helping her to find her way. My answers are a little more reserved because of the paintings they have chosen to display. It is difficult to discuss color choice and technique when looking at the mutt that tore a hole out of my leg or Cato cleaning a bloody knife after stabbing the girl from District Eight. They chose the most horrific paintings to highlight; the ones recognizable from the Arena. They glorify the objects of my most hated and despised nightmares. Caesar announces that some of my paintings will be up for sale and the crowd explodes. My hands begin to tremble and it is a struggle to maintain the easy grin on my face as I thank them for their kindness. I feel a reassuring pressure on my fingers and look down to see that her hands have clasped mine tightly. Her thumb moves gently on the back of my hand and a soft smile touches her mouth when I look up to meet her gaze.
Caesar congratulates us both for the success of the Tour and asks slyly what our plans are for the future. I realize that this is my cue and give her hand one brief squeeze before turning to the expectant crowd. "I'm glad that you asked that, Caesar," I remark breezily. "I wanted to ask this beautiful lady an important question for quite some time but have been waiting for the perfect opportunity to do it. Do you think our friends would mind if I take a moment?" Caesar beams and then gestures for me to continue. The crowd heaves a collective gasp as I turn to Katniss, taking her hands in mine and moving downward until I'm resting on one knee. She looks startled and her wide-eyed gaze takes me to another time and place when I made a similar declaration. I am briefly frozen as two voices ring in my head. I hear my father once again proclaim, "You've loved her since you were five, Peeta." Overlapping that, I hear Portia, "Speak from your heart. That's all any woman can ask for." The planned remarks that I had scribbled down beforehand are suddenly forgotten. The hushed crowd, the cameras, and Caesar watching avidly abruptly fade away. The only thing I see is the girl in front of me that I've loved all my life. I know then exactly what I want to say. The words spill out and I let them, not holding anything back or hiding any part of myself from her searching regard.
I begin softly, uncaring that the microphones are straining to pick up every word. She can hear me perfectly and that's all that matters. "I've loved you all my life. Ever since I heard you sing my heart has been yours to do with what you will. I've thought of a hundred ways to ask you to be mine. But none ever seemed good enough. When I was seven, I wrote you a note that asked you to check yes or no if you liked me. I never gave it to you but the intent was there." She smiles slightly and I feel my lips quirk in response. "When I was eleven, I baked you a cake and put the words in frosting. Since you rarely came by the bakery, that idea didn't work out so well either. When I was sixteen, I stood on this stage and told everyone that I loved you. I admit that I should have told you first, but it seemed like a good idea at the time." The audience's chuckles pull her eyes away from me and I see her flick an uneasy glance around the auditorium. She's uncomfortable with the crowd hearing such personal statements. I can't help but shake my head at her obtuseness. This was her idea. She was going to have to live with it.
"I don't have the words to tell you what I feel. The only thing I can do is ask you to let me be with you. Let me love you like I've always wanted to. You won't regret it, Katniss. I promise you that." I swallow heavily and clasp her hands more tightly. "I read a verse once that said exactly what I've always wanted to say to you. I don't remember it faithfully but I do remember enough. Don't ask me to leave you or to turn back from following you. Wherever you go, I will be with you. Wherever you live, that will be home. If you'll have me, I'll be with you always. Nothing will keep me from you. That is my promise." I stop with my heart in my throat. Her eyes are wet as she stares in open mouthed awe at my words. I smile and pull the box from my pocket. Flipping back the lid, I carefully remove the ring and hold it a breath away from her hand. "Katniss, I love you. Please say you'll marry me." She bites her lip and nods furiously. I'm startled to see a tear edge down her cheek as I slide the ring into place. The crowd erupts when I pull her close and bury my face in her hair. She shivers against me and sighs against my mouth as I lean in to kiss her for the first time. It's a brief touch of skin and heat before we are pulled forward into the tumult that awaits us.
President Snow comes out and congratulates us. The offer and announcement of a Capital wedding is not unexpected. Snow will use this event to set his hooks as deeply into us as possible. We've given him a tool and he is hell bent on using it. I can see this knowledge plainly written on Katniss' face as she smiles and trades quips regarding a new law that will allow us to marry without her mother's approval. A party soon follows at Snow's mansion where we eat; we dance, and socialize with the Capital elite. The whole time I can feel her eyes on me and I watch as she fidgets with the ring on her finger. We seldom go a few feet without someone requesting to see it and question where it came from. I'm amused at the thought of a baker's ring from District Twelve being the next rage in the Capital. It's too ridiculous to believe. I'm sure that my father would appreciate the humor.
Finally, we make our way back to the train and head home. I'm sitting in my room when she finds me. The day has left me tired and I hesitate before opening the door to let her come in. She steps in guardedly and looks around as if she'd never been in my room before. I notice the ring is still on her finger although she is twisting it nonstop. I take a seat on the edge of the bed and wait silently for her to speak. She doesn't keep me in suspense for long. She holds her hand out and stabs a finger almost accusingly at my chest. "You weren't supposed to get me a ring. When did you have time to get this?"
I smile at her condemning tone and lean back on my hands, "I didn't get you a ring, Katniss. I've had that since we left home. I've just been waiting for the right moment to give it to you." She freezes as the implications roll through her mind. The fact that I've had it my possession since District Twelve is something that she didn't expect. She clearly doesn't know how to respond. I take advantage of her silence and remark, "It was my grandmother's ring. My father gave it to me right before we left. He had been holding onto it for a long time. He thought this trip would be the perfect time for me to give it to you. It was a lucky coincidence."
Her shocked gaze bores into me and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop a smile from blooming at her beleaguered expression. She expected none of this. Anticipating anger, it is my turn to be surprised when she tugs the ring off and holds it out. "I can't accept this. It's from your family. I can't. It wouldn't be right."
I carefully fold her fingers back around the band, enclosing the ring in our clasped fists. "I won't take it back. It was meant to go to the person that I love, Katniss. Like it or not, that person is you. If you don't want it, then throw it away. You can trade it; put it in a drawer, or wear it. It doesn't matter. What you can't do is return it." I smile as I play with the end of her long braid. "It's yours now, sweetheart. What you do with it is up to you."
Her mouth works for a few seconds but no sound escapes. I leave her standing, jaw agape as she watches me disappear into the bathroom. I slide down and finally let the tears flow. They burn in stinging trails as I remember every detail from tonight. Her eyes, her dress, her smile when I spoke those words I had been longing to say. Finally, there are no more secrets between us. She knows exactly how I feel. I have a strange sense of freedom in knowing that I've now said everything I ever wanted to say to Katniss Everdeen.
I make my way back into the now deserted bedroom and look at the dresser, half expecting the ring to be lying there abandoned. To my surprise, there's nothing. I change into my usual sleep attire and hesitate before making my way down the hallway to her room. It slides open at my touch and I can barely make out her form in the darkness. She's already asleep, her breathing slow and quiet. I sit watching her as the minutes melt one into the other. Finally, I pull back the covers and curve myself around her, intertwined and tangled together. My hand finds hers, fingers interweaving; the band of her ring pressed cool and hard against my skin. I smile into the darkness, feeling content for the first time in ages. Tomorrow, we will back in District Twelve and I'll have to mend my walls. But tonight, I will hold her and let myself believe it can be like this always. Tonight, it's real.
End Part 3…..