The idea came, in large part, due to Dr. Aurelius. I had mentioned our family plant book in one of our sessions, and slowly the idea evolved to take the principal idea behind it and transfigure it into something else. Something healing, or so the doctor proposed. Skeptical though I was, I did not turn up my nose on the idea. And when the first round of supplies arrived on the next train from the Capitol, I didn't turn my nose up at them either.
After the nightmare about Finnick, I proposed adding him to the book. It had started out as just my own project, but it wasn't something I could exactly hide from Peeta since he was practically living at my house. And, to be fair, the task seemed much less daunting and painful when shared with Peeta. Also, I enjoyed simply watching him paint and sketch, offering tips here and there for features he didn't remember as well, but mostly just sitting in silence. I wasn't sure if it was therapeutic for me, but Peeta took comfort in his contributions to the project, and that was enough for me by any standards.
Finnick's addition to the book took the entire day. Peeta kneaded a batch of dough as we ate a small breakfast and I proposed the idea. As the bread rose, we took out the book and set to work. The bread was cooked and filled our stomachs by late afternoon, and still we sat and worked. There were so many things I had misunderstood about Finnick, and even other things I had completely missed that Peeta contributed. I scribbled furiously, page after page, but the details continued to pour from both of us. As I summarized Finnick's contributions to the Games and to the Second War, Peeta drew out sketch after sketch of possible additions to the book. Finnick carrying Mags. Finnick playing a round of Real or Not Real with Peeta sitting outside the tents of our camp.
At one point, Peeta glanced up from his drawing, his graphite pencil held tightly in his hand. "Finnick saved my life in the Arena," he said, "after I hit the force field. Real or not real?"
"Real," I replied. We played the game less and less now, which I was eternally thankful for. But the questions he asked hit deeper the longer time stretched out, because they were the most personal and painful details of all. "I thought at first he was kissing you," I recalled with a bittersweet smile. "I was about to shoot him dead when I realized I'd seen my mother do the same thing before to patients."
"Jealous, were you?" Peeta asked, but his voice was off just the slightest. His grip still looked painfully tight on the pencil.
"The kissing didn't bother me so much," I replied. "It was more the pounding on your chest that got me worked up."
Peeta nodded. I fought the urge to ask what parts felt shiny about that memory. If he thought I had pushed him into the force field, perhaps. In truth, I didn't want to know. I wasn't capable of handling the lies that Snow had weaved into his memories.
The memory of Finnick saving Peeta's life brought a fresh stab of pain to my heart. I owed him so much, would never stop owing him as long as I lived. My nightmare returned fresh to my mind, but I forced it away. We cannot change the past. I repeated the mantra Dr. Aurelius was still trying to convince me of in our sessions. We can only change ourselves to make sure we don't repeat the same mistakes. I glanced at Peeta, and promised myself I would never make those kinds of mistakes with him again.
Swiping my palm across my eyes, I forced myself to focus back on the task before us, and buried myself in the work.