"Hi."
There I was, standing on his front step and there he was, shocked and at a loss for words as he held the door ajar.
Neither one of us moved at first. Just seeing him made my heart do funny things. A violent combination of mixed sentiments flooded through me. But in that moment all I could think was that he looked like Gale. He looked the exact same as the Gale I'd grown up with hunting in the woods. He didn't look like a murder of children. He didn't look like someone who could forsake the lives of children. He looked like my Gale, who protected my family while I fought for my life.
"Catnip," he said finally, though the word sounded harsh and forced.
It should have been a comfort to hear that familiar nickname only he used. Instead it shattered the illusion that somehow we could just pick up from where we left off before the war.
"Well, don't just stand there," he said as he stepped back, though his words sounded less than pleased at the prospect.
"How about a walk?" I suggested instead, feeling less than comfortable with the idea of entering his home yet.
With a nod, Gale stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. With a sweeping gesture of his arm, he waited for me to lead the way though I hadn't the slightest idea where to go. It had taken all of my effort just to find where he lived. I wandered aimlessly and he fell into step beside me while making no effort to set a lead or direction. I did my best to avoid traveling anywhere that might be familiar from my previous visits to the district.
Ever so slowly, we began to talk. Short, clipped sentences at first. General questions of politeness were followed by expanded sentences as some of the unease brushed off us. We caught up on all aspects of our lives. Gale asked about Peeta. I passed along his message of greeting, then admitted seriously that he was doing much better. I didn't share any of the fears or worries I associated with the topic, which glaringly pointed out that we could talk all we wanted, but we weren't back to the way things had been.
Gale's follow up question was further proof. "So you and Peeta now," he said without much lead in, "that's happening? For real?" He didn't suffer the same anxiety I had. Instead of glancing away, he looked right at me as he asked, though I could tell it mattered to him what my response was. He wasn't just asking to be polite. He wanted to know. I could tell that some part of him still clung to the idea that somehow he and I might get the chance that we never made happen before.
But I was painfully aware of how we'd spent close to an hour talking and we hadn't once brought up Prim. And I knew that we could walk until the sun set and the moon took its place, but neither one of us would have brought up Prim still. There were some things that weren't going to be the same, no matter how hard we tried or how easy it felt walking with him. "I'm not sure," I answered his question. I didn't want to open up the possibility of something for the two of us, but I wasn't going to lie either. I'd lied enough about Peeta and myself for one lifetime. "We just take it one day at a time."
We circled back to his house in relative silence, topics of conversation seemingly exhausted. "Why are you here?" he asked the most important question as we took the dirt road towards his house looming in the distance.
"Peeta told me too," I replied with complete honesty. As Gale scoffed, I added, "My mother mentioned it last time we spoke as well. She also said to say hello should I find myself in the vicinity."
"Right." It was his only reply, and we lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence as Gale led me into the house towards the kitchen.
Motioning to one of the wooden stools as he passed, he moved to the cabinets. As I perched on the edge of the stool, I surveyed the room. It reminded me a lot of his home back in Twelve. Though it didn't have any of Hazelle's female touches and there were no clothes or linens strewn about waiting to be laundered, it felt much the same. A familiar pang hit me; the one I felt whenever I was at Gale's family home and realized he was no longer there. Only this time Gale was present. It was everything else that seemed askew.
Gale whipped up something quick to eat and placed a plate in my lap, but I wasn't hungry in the slightest. There was no pushing the food around the plate at Gale's. Ironic, really, that we ever got to this point. Extra food leftover to share instead of starving on what meager means we had to support our families. Nothing was the same as it had been just a few years ago. It seemed impossible for so much to have changed so quickly.
"How's District Twelve?" Gale asked after a while, managing to find a topic we hadn't already exhausted. Funny how it wasn't the first topic we thought of. Home. Where we'd grown up together. That we'd fought so hard to protect and free. Was it already so far from both of our minds when you took us out of it?
"Rebuilding." I couldn't bring myself to mention what became of the Meadow. Somehow, it didn't feel important to mention it either. It wasn't as if he was ever going to return to see it. Or perhaps he had already found out. Then I mentioned the bakery, since it was the biggest news out of the district by far. Plus the opening had made the feeds, so he definitely ought to have already heard about it.
"Yeah." Gruff, monosyllabic Gale had, indeed, heard the news about Peeta's little pet project. "Hopefully he doesn't lose it and throw someone into the oven thinking they are a Capitol mutt."
I froze, unable to respond. The Gale I knew, my Gale, never could have been so cruel. He resented Peeta perhaps, or was jealous, but he'd never been cruel. And what he'd just said? It brought to light a side of him I never thought I'd see. It made the evil inside me whisper that this was the guy who could have orchestrated the plan that caused the Capitol to surrender.
"Maybe we shouldn't talk about Peeta," I decided, grinding my teeth to prevent myself from saying what I really thought. Any step in that direction would lead where I didn't want to go. It was an uncomfortable visit to be sure, but it hadn't been horrible up until that point. I didn't want to ruin it more than he just had. So I let it slide, even though it made my fists clench and my heart hammer.
Gale mused, "Always protecting each other, you and Peeta." Again, I forced myself to let it go. He was angry, I reasoned, and his reaction was to lash out. I way the same way when put in that position. But the conversation died with his comments. I didn't touch my food. Gale took the plate and scraped the food off into the trash. I almost cringed at the waste. So he had done well for himself, in this new job in Two. So well he didn't have to want for anything. And it seemed he'd forgotten what it felt like to barely get by and need more.
It brought another topic to mind, his own love life, but it was one I didn't want to touch on. Tension already sat with us, and I knew that my curiosity would push us over the edge.
Showing a spark of the old Gale, he offered up his room and decided to take the couch. I hadn't decided on how long I would be staying, and he hadn't asked. I hadn't thought about the logistics behind staying the night, but the last train had undoubtedly departed the station, and I had nowhere else to go. So I took him up on his offer with the minimal amount of conversation possible.