It's Katniss's birthday. I wish I could say that I remembered by myself, but instead it was Sae suggesting with a sly wink yesterday after breakfast that I might want to bring a cake to dinner tonight. Katniss had already left for the woods and I was helping with the dishes. I think whatever Sae is planning is a secret, but whether that's to surprise Katniss or to prevent her from protesting (and likely hiding) if she knew I'm not certain.
Either way I'm thrilled to make Katniss a cake. I can remember when she would bring Prim to look at the cakes in the window display cases of my parents' bakery, almost every Saturday for years. Prim would be looking at the cakes, bouncing on her toes with excitement and Katniss would be watching Prim with a hint of a smile softening her face. And me, I'd be watching Katniss, taking care to make sure that she didn't see me, and that my mother didn't either. My father knew about my feelings for Katniss, Rye and Brann did too, but until the games my mother had no idea. It was with good reason that I never told her, and that the others kept my secret. When I returned after the games, the first games I mean, my mother was livid that I had 'disgraced their good name' by professing my love for a 'filthy Seam brat'. But what did she know about love anyway, she hadn't loved my father and she certainly hadn't loved me.
I shake my head to clear away those thoughts, she's gone now and whatever she might have been she didn't deserve what happened to her. None of them did. And it feels wrong to think badly of the dead.
I've baked just a small cake, it will be a small gathering for dinner after all. The cake itself is chocolate, and I've tinted the buttercream frosting a rich green, not only because it's Katniss's favourite colour, but also because it makes a nice background for the gum paste flowers that I've made. I wanted to cover the cake with katniss flowers, the flowers for which she was named, but I've never seen a katniss flower. I know that they're white, and look sort of like a violet, but that's not much of a description to go on. I debated a lot of different flowers but so many have bad memories associated with them (I might never be able to make a gum paste rose again!) I finally took my inspiration from the flowers growing all over my lawn. Not flowers at all actually, weeds, but beautiful nonetheless. So I made purple gum paste clover and yellow gum paste dandelions. I hope they'll remind her of the meadow. Or what the meadow used to look like anyway.
I tuck the cake into a small box, I'm pretty sure that Katniss is in the woods right now but just in case I'd rather she not see the cake and have Sae's surprise ruined. But when I cross the green I see Haymitch storming out of Katniss's house, a crumpled bunch of papers clutched tightly in his hand. He's muttering under his breath.
"Hello Haymitch," I smile at him. He looks up and scowls, but stops.
"Boy," is his only greeting. I can smell the liquor on him from 10 feet away.
"Will we be seeing you at dinner tonight?" I try to talk to Haymitch as if he's a functional human being. Days like today it feels like a waste of energy. He grunts.
"With that prickly thing in there?" he gestures back at Katniss's house with his chin. "I don't think so. I've had about enough of her pretty face for today." The way he sneers when he says 'pretty' makes my blood boil. Without another word he staggers away towards his house again.
"Don't be late," I call at his back. He gives no indication that he's heard me, but I'm not about to chase him down.
Katniss must be home if Haymitch was just speaking with her. I'm glad I put the cake in a box.
I walk around to the back door and open it gently. She isn't in the kitchen. That's a bit of luck. I hide the box on one of the upper shelves in the pantry, and sneak back out. Well, inasmuch as I can sneak anyway, I've been told that I'm as loud as a train when I walk. I don't think that's quite true, but I certainly don't have the gift of silent steps like Katniss does.
Back at home I put the finishing touches on a picture I've drawn to give Katniss as a gift, a yearling buck peeking around a tree, his fuzzy antlers just coming in. It's a scene she described to me a few weeks ago; she'd been so moved by his beauty and his curiosity that she hadn't been able to shoot him. She told me that she'd watched him for some 20 minutes before he simply turned and sauntered off, too young to be afraid of humans. I've shaded him with the coloured pencils I ordered from the Capitol, they don't blend as nicely as chalk but the colours are more intense. I hope she likes it.
Just before 6 I head back out across the green and let myself in the back door of Katniss's house again. Sae is bent over the stove, stirring something in a large pot. I kiss her cheek and hand her a warm loaf of bread speckled with seeds. She pats my shoulder gently, "In the living room," she says and turns back to her cooking. Her granddaughter plays quietly at the table with a rag doll; I wave at her as I wander through the kitchen and into the living room. Katniss is standing on the fireplace hearth looking at the stacks of envelopes big and small that cover every inch of the mantle.
"What is all of that?" I ask. She startles a little, as if she hadn't heard me approach. I find that hard to believe, but maybe she was lost in her thoughts.
She jumps down from the hearth, delicately landing without a sound. She's cat-like that way. "Mail," she shrugs.
I raise an eyebrow at her. "That's a lot of mail."
She nods slowly, "Yeah, I know, Haymitch gave me hell earlier about not opening them. I can't imagine that there's anything I want to read in there anyway."
I study the stacks, from where I stand it looks like probably two hundred envelopes, maybe more. "When was the last time you opened your mail Katniss?" I can't imagine getting this much mail in a year. She shrugs again and suddenly I'm sure. "Katniss, you've never opened your mail, have you?"
"I opened one letter." She sounds defensive. I grin at her, I can't help it.
"Let me help you sort through it at least," I offer. She stares at me for a while, chewing on her bottom lip, then nods, and climbs back onto the hearth. Before I can move to help her she starts tossing the stacks, some loose, some bound with twine, over her shoulder. They land on the coffee table and on the floor, some slide under chairs or float behind the couch. I just roll my eyes; she can be so bratty when she's avoiding something. I gather up the letters and small packages from the floor and under the chairs, trying to avoid more flying squares of paper as I do, and stacking everything on the coffee table. When she finally pulls the last of them off the mantle and turns to join me her eyes widen.
"I didn't realize there was so many," she admits.
We work quietly, sorting the mail into piles. There's a huge pile of what just might be fan mail, postmarked from every district in envelopes big and small. Katniss thinks they're all hate mail and wants to throw them all away, but I convince her to hang onto them for a while, promising that I'll sit with her when she opens them eventually. We make a smaller pile of letters from friends: Johanna, Annie, Cressida, even Delly. There's a pile of official looking missives from the new Panem government. A surprisingly large pile of letters from Plutarch, these she tosses into the cold fireplace and I don't even attempt to stop her. A half-dozen thin letters and thicker packets from Dr. Aurelius, I move these out of her reach before they can join Plutarch's letters. She hasn't phoned Dr. A. yet, but I hope eventually she will. A lumpy envelope from the burn ward of the Capitol hospital where we were both treated which she looks at with confusion. "What on earth could they have sent me," she wonders aloud. I don't have any idea. There are letters bearing the logos of each of the new media outlets that have cropped up around Panem, and letters that seem to have come from Games sponsors, those we'll toss, Katniss doesn't owe any of them anything.
I have just a moment to reflect on how odd it is that in several months' worth of mail there isn't a single note from either Gale or Katniss's mother, especially since it's her birthday, when there's a knock at the front door. Katniss stands and looks at me questioningly, but Sae darts past her to open the door.
A few moments later Thom walks into the living room, a bunch of red tulips in hand. He thrusts them at Katniss, smiling. "Happy birthday Miss Katniss." he says shyly. Her eyes are wide, panicked. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out as she looks up at him, bewildered. Her speechlessness is kind of adorable, but I take pity on her and step forward, extending my hand out to Thom. He shakes it firmly, and we exchange greetings before Sae shepherds us all into the dining room.
I don't think I've ever been in Katniss's dining room before. Though our houses are identical, I removed the table and most of the chairs from what was supposed to be the dining room in my house, converting it into a studio instead since it gets the best light with its wide south-facing window. In this house the wide window faces north, and the room is dark and heavy. Sae has done her best to make it more festive with candles and a crisp white table cloth, and she manages to find a glass vase in the sideboard to hold Thom's tulips. Haymitch must have snuck in through the kitchen; he's already sitting at the table and has made himself at home with a bottle of wine uncorked beside him. Sae's granddaughter Lila sits beside him, making a cape for her doll with her napkin. Katniss stands off to the side watching, unsure. When I gently lay my hand on the small of her back she startles and turns her head sharply to look at me, her eyes are wild and frightened. I lean in and whisper softly in her ear. "It's okay, this is everyone, it's just us. No other surprises." I know I've guessed the source of her anxiety correctly when her shoulders drop and I can feel her tension ebb a little.
The meal is absolutely perfect, the food is wonderful, and Thom and Sae fill all of us in on the latest gossip from around the district. Haymitch is drunk but somehow manages not to be obnoxious. Sae gives Katniss a small leather pouch she made, and inside is a rock that her granddaughter Lila has painted in blotches of bright primary colour. I give her the sketch I made for her and her face lights up in recognition.
I bring in the cake to ooos and ahhs from the others, but Katniss merely stares at it, her eyes shining. She reaches a finger out to ghost along the edges of a dandelion, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Somehow Thom has a slender candle and Sae grabs matches. When they set the candle on the cake and light it Katniss seems confused. "You have to make a wish, and then blow out the candle," Thom explains.
"Why?" Katniss has never been one for ceremony or superstition, and I'm not sure if she's ever had candles on a birthday cake before. Actually, I'm pretty sure she's never had a birthday cake at all.
"Just do it," Haymitch barks. Katniss closes her eyes and sits quietly for what feels like a long time, then leans forward and gently blows out the candle. Lila claps happily and Sae puts thick slices onto plates for everyone. "What did you wish for Sweetheart?" Haymitch sneers. Katniss blushes.
"Won't come true if she tells," Thom says earnestly. Katniss looks relieved and attacks her cake with relish, though I notice that she saves the yellow gum paste flower for last.
Eventually Lila is falling asleep in her cake so Sae takes her home. Haymitch and Thom leave soon after. I stay and help Katniss clean up, she's washing the dishes while I dry when she says, quietly, "Peeta, do you remember the bread, and - and the day after?" Like I'd forget that ever again, it's one of the first memories that I recovered in District 13. I make an affirmative noise and wait to see where she's going with this. She keeps washing the dishes, her eyes fixed on what she's doing, but she continues softly, "When I picked that dandelion the next day in the school yard, it wasn't just a flower to me Peeta, it was a realization, I saw that dandelion, and I remembered the lessons my father had taught me about survival. I took Prim to the meadow right afterwards and we picked all of the dandelions we could find, and we ate them that night with the last of the bread you gave me. After that I started gathering other greens and herbs from near the fence, and eventually I started sneaking under the fence into the woods and hunting, like my father had taught me to. I started to take care of my family, and life got better for us." She's quiet again, but I get the impression that she's not done with this story, and I know with Katniss that you just have to wait until she's ready to continue. We finish the dishes in silence. It's not until she's drying her hands that she speaks again. "You know that I don't believe in fate or signs or anything like that." I nod, Katniss is the most pragmatic person I've ever known, I doubt she even really made a wish over her candle earlier. She turns to face me then, looking up at me with silver eyes shining. "Since that day I've associated dandelions with hope. And with you." My eyes widen as she continues, "I wouldn't have seen the dandelion if it wasn't for you, I'd given up hope sitting under that apple tree in the rain. When you burned the bread that gave me life you opened my eyes, you made me see that life could go on, despite my losses." I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but Katniss isn't finished. "And then tonight, on the cake, the dandelions… it's like you're reminding me once more. That life can be good again…"
She steps forward and wraps her arms around my neck, holding me tightly. I hesitate just a moment before wrapping my arms around her too. I haven't held Katniss since the Capitol, it feels so very right, her small body melds perfectly into mine, her breath tickling my neck. I'm sure she can feel me shaking, feel my heart pounding against her. I'm overwhelmed by her words, by her embrace, by the fact that she's letting me into her life, even if just a little.