Family Matters

"Johanna's her charming self today," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I don't want Haymitch to think I'm interested in Johanna. Or even interested in him.

The Training Center is almost deserted at this time of day. The press and photographers either wait outside or take a lunch break while the tributes practice. We don't meet anyone in the corridors.

"She's always like that." Haymitch just shrugs, but of course I know that since it wasn't our first verbal fight. Then he asks me how to get to the city-center. Why is he acting like he doesn't know how to get around?

I sigh and give him the look teachers give students when the answer is so obvious it has half the classmates throwing themselves off their chairs laughing. "We are in the city-center, Haymitch."

"Oh, and then why did you say that I could come with you? Sounds to me like we're driving somewhere," Haymitch counters smugly, grinning triumphantly as if pleased to be superior to me. Another of his character traits that gets on my nerves.

"Because I'll drive by car. Otherwise we wouldn't get off in the basement," I say in the same superior tone and smile innocently at him, but my eyes glitter treacherously. "Didn't you know that?"

Haymitch snorts and stalks through the large doors in front of me, which open automatically for us as soon as the motion sensor picks us up. I follow him into the underground car park, albeit a little more slowly because I'm afraid I'll twist my heels otherwise. This has happened to me before and it was anything but amusing. Luckily these don't have too high heels.

"You have a car?" he asks after a while, as if only now realizing it.

Haymitch must really think I'm incompetent. Annoyed by his comments, I ignore his question and rummage for the car keys in my purse. I do in fact havea car. It's a small white convertible. With silver rims and leather seats. However, the two rear seats are not really made for humans, as you would only crush your legs.

With a flash of lights, my car unlocks and Haymitch flinches for a moment, not expecting that to be my car. I go to the driver's side, open the door and lean against the roof while watching Haymitch. He stares at me in astonishment. "That's your car?" He sounds surprised and immensely amused.

I nod slowly. "That's my car," I confirm. "You got a problem with that?" He studies it as if it just appeared out of nowhere.

Even in the underground parking garage, there are neon lights. It burns down on us, making Haymitch's skin glow an unnatural shade of yellow. He quickly shakes his head and steps towards the passenger door. "Certainly not, I was just expecting a pink car with fluffy seat cushions", he replies, grinning before getting in without question.

I sit down carefully, always cautious not to hit my wig on the roof. I pull the door shut behind me and toss my purse onto the back seat. Theyare perfect for that.

"Can you even drive in these shoes?" Haymitch asks, now a little unsure. Perhaps for the first time in his life he is concerned about his safety. His voice sounds incredibly close and I turn to him. He has his head leaned in my direction and skeptically looks at me.

"Outrageous, Haymitch, really. There's nothing to be afraid of." To prove it, I put the key in the ignition and the engine starts. Buzzing like a tiger. I hate noisy cars. I scrutinize Haymitch out of the corner of my eyes. He fastens his seatbelt and clutches the seat as I turn and pull out of the parking space. My car starts to move and I head for the exit. Haymitch relaxes a little, but not completely. "Don't pretend I'm a bad driver."

He bobs his head, unsure of what to say. "Wait and see."

We drive out of the underground car park straight onto one of the main roads. The Training Center looms on our right. Like a little boy, Haymitch is immediately glued to the window. When I see him I have to smile involuntarily. I skilfully pull into the traffic and shortly afterwards we stop at the first set of traffic lights.

"Not bad, sweetheart," Haymitch admits, grinning as if he was able to judge my driving skills.

A blond strand of hair falls in his face and before I can think I lean over and tuck it behind his ear. His gray eyes meet mine and my heart skips a beat. Haymitch's smile is wiped away. He doesn't understand either. What is the matter with us? Where is this supposed to lead? I pull my hand back to the steering wheel but still look at him. And he looks at me. The horn of the car behind us makes me jump. Haymitch turns his head to the back.

I put my foot on the gas pedal. With too much power and the car shoots forward, forcing Haymitch to hold on to the seat again. I can only keep in my own seat with great difficulty while slowing down again.

"Sorry," I murmur, straining my eyes down the street to avoid meeting his eyes again, because I can feel them on me. My ears are glowing.

"Buckle up," he suddenly demands. His tone is not gentle but firm. A caring Haymitch is alien to me.

I shake my head, focused. "Not now," I choke out through clenched teeth as I round the corner and a speeder nearly crashes into us. "Idiot."

Haymitch's laughter echoes through the small car. I force my eyes to stay on the road. "Where are your manners, Effie?" he cackles, failing to ape my voice.

I don't like it when he imitates me and my accent and waves his hands in the air. I can't help the accent. It's not even real. All fashion. I think of my mother and I know she's probably going to say the same thing to me. I would have liked it better if my father had come too, but he is always very busy.

"Would you like me to kick you out somewhere?" I ask Haymitch, driving past the parks where my dad used to skate with my sister and me sometimes. A smile creeps to my lips at the thought of it.

Haymitch, who completely misunderstood the question, looks over at me, offended. Seeing the expression on my face, he understands the friendly meaning behind the words. His eyes wander over my mouth for a moment. My smile disappears. Embarrassed, I look back at the street. Did I just imagine it or did he really do it?

"I don't even know where we are, to be honest," he says, without a trace of regret in his voice. "I should just accompany you to your meeting. Then you don't have to pick me up anywhere later. That would only cause you problems." I give him a look. Haymitch looks straight ahead, grinning. Why do I get the feeling that this was his plan all along?

"You can't accompany me," I say as fast as a shot from a pistol. "I'm meeting my mother." It sounds final and that's what it's meant to be. I can't afford any missteps with my mother, she will criticize enough of my life either way. I don't need Haymitch present at this tirade as well.

"I'm sure your mother won't mind." I do mind.

"Believe me, you don't want to meet her," I explain in a sarcastic voice. "You're going to hate her."

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm not going to embarrass you. I'll order a coffee and shut up, I promise."

Haymitch mustn't embarrass me. My mother puts an incredible amount of value on my appearance and, in her opinion, he doesn't fit into my world. She doesn't like the fact that he now has to play mentor again. She was more looking forward to Katniss and Peeta because they are "real victors". And I don't think Haymitch will take a liking to her because her opinions on the Games are different. More radical. She's the perfect Capitol citizen, the cliché of what he loathes.

Let him fall flat on his face if he thinks he can predict anything and everything, a defiant voice in my head remarks. I just hope this won't backfire for me. So I shrug. "All right, Haymitch, but I warned you," I say, looking at him seriously. Haymitch nods but doesn't seem overly concerned. I'm pretty sure he'll regret that decision later.

Shortly after the park, the road leads back into the city. The area here is more urban, more liberal. I slow down to look at my school, as I always do when I drive by. Then my university. It's nice to be home again. It makes me feel safe. In the center there are miles of small cafes that offer a beautiful view over a grassed area. A small lake where ducks and swans swim, surrounded by some treetops. Parents with children. Colorfully dressed school kids and teenagers dashing down the streets to keep up with their friends.

I park the car on a street corner that borders the pedestrian zone. Haymitch opens the passenger door before the engine stops completely. As I turn back and get my purse, he's already got out and is looking around. Great manners. When I get out, he stands a few meters away in front of a fountain. His blond hair has a golden tinge in the summer sun. He watches the small children crouching in the fountain and splashing around, while mothers chat and exchange small talk with other mothers. Everyday life here seems to fascinate him. Or to shock. I don't know because I can't read the expression on his face because his back is to me.

"Haymitch," I call him and wave in the direction of the pedestrian zone. "We're way too late already." Haymitch turns and follows my gaze. Some passers-by turn their heads to us when they hear his name. But they move on quickly, after all, today is a normal working day.

"What's she like?" Haymitch asks as we enter the pedestrian zone and head towards the cafes. Genuine curiosity speaks from his voice, and I have to suppress a sigh.

I immediately know that he is talking about my mother. "She- Well, I probably can't describe her truthfully to you. You'll have to get to know her yourself if you want to get an idea of her." My mother is a complicated woman. She is a traditional, value-driven woman who places great value on good company. You have to know exactly how to deal with her so that she doesn't jump at your throat. But she's not a bad person. After all, she is my mother.

Quite a few passers-by come towards us, which surprises me. Maybe they took time off over the Hunger Games. In the meantime I'm glad I didn't take a jacket with me this morning. The sun burns down on us and seems to want to turn us all into a boiling stew. I plan to open the top of my convertible later when we drive back. Now we should really hurry, not only because of my mother, but also because I'm dying of thirst. Haymitch seems to feel the same way. He is not used to the tropical climate. It's never as warm in District 12 in the summer as it's here.

The houses in this part of the city are nowhere near as tall as those in the center of the Capitol. Although we're still more or less in the Capitol's center. Just not in the central center where the elite and president live. The buildings are smaller here, never taller than five stories, and all painted in lovely pastel shades. It's more reminiscent of a prosperous suburb surrounded by greenery. The entire pedestrian zone is planted with trees, under which there are benches. I'm thankful for the shade they cast. Many young people pass us, hooked with their friends. With shopping bags or ice cream in their hands. They laugh and gesticulate wildly.

Lost in thought, I think back to my own youth. Times were almost always good. Haymitch must have noticed the look on my face. "You like it here," he says.

I nod. "I grew up here," I reply, and the smile on my face widens.

"So this is your home district?" Haymitch walks to my right, trying to get an idea of my life.

"Sort of." I laugh at the thought. It sounds foreign somehow, although you could really call it that.

"Would you like to show me around here later?" he then asks out of the blue. Does it really fascinate him that much?

I don't mind. Then we'd have to leave my mother a little earlier, but I don't look forward to that with regret. Seeing her once a week is usually enough for me. "If you're looking for a new bar, you're sure to find it here. The average age here is quite low."

Haymitch rolls his eyes but grins. We reach the heart of the neighborhood and I sigh because we've already covered the short distance. The pedestrian zone that we waked through borders an old-fashioned square with numerous cafes and bars. One of the few places where multiple age classes meet, offering something for everyone from ordinary pubs to chic restaurants. There's long been a debate about whether to tear down the old buildings and build new ones or keep them. Many citizens voted to keep them. I'm glad, it's part of my past.

The square spreads out evenly in all directions. The ground is no longer asphalt, but consists of flagstones. The base is a square so it is lined with cafes and restaurants on three sides, while the last side, where there are no buildings, flows into an artificial lake. The bottom of the lake has been decorated with lights so that it glows at night. Definitely one of my favorite places. One of the city's many hotspots. Also because huge screens are set up here during the Hunger Games, on which the residents can watch the Games and all important interviews and events live.

The place is packed. A colorful crowd cavorts in front of the screens and follows the training of the tributes. The first year this is possible. However, I don't believe that they will also broadcast the individual lessons on television. Not a good idea with twenty-four victors who should all be pretty mad at the Capitol for having to go back to the arena.

Seeing the screens, Haymitch stops dead in his tracks. I turn to him and give him an apologetic look. "It's really beautiful here out of Games season," I explain, even though I'm not sure if he believes me. I wave him on and we walk past the screens. People are so taken in they don't even notice Haymitch, the only living victor of a Quarter Quell.

"Here we are," I say, trying not to pant or sound exhausted. I take him to the terrace of one of the more exquisite cafes. Small, round tables are shaded by large parasols and are surrounded by cute, green chairs. Even here it's packed so we can't get a table. However, my mother should already be here, so it's only a matter of time before she emerges from hiding and ambushes me. Haymitch gives me a puzzled look. I give him a reassuring smile and motion for him to wait. Although he returns my smile without hesitation, I'm already preparing myself. Convince her.

"Euphemia," shrills a voice behind us at this moment and I just have time to straighten my back before she stands in front of me.

My mother looks the same as always. At least a head taller than me, the highest heels I've ever seen on a woman. A beige dress with brown patterns running all over the piece of fabric that makes her look even older than she already is. A long black scarf wrapped around her neck, reaching down to her knees. If she sweats, she doesn't show it. Of course not, she's a lady after all. She darkened her complexion by a few shades. Bright red lipstick, long black false eyelashes. An eyeliner set with sparkling rhinestones. Did she get her wrinkles removed again? I remember more of them. It's been just over a week since my last visit ... She's wearing an orange wig with a single strand of blue. I have to look away because the orange is so bright. As if that weren't enough, an oversized bow sits atop her hair, also in black.

A shiver runs down my spine. My mouth is dry and I dare not speak. Instead, I glance at Haymitch, who is actually about to burst out laughing. I watch him tighten his lips with effort and avert his eyes from hers to meet mine. When he sees the earnest plea on my face to pull himself together, he gets serious. No stupid things. No mistakes. Only your best side.

"Euphemia!" My mother's voice demands again and the expression in her eyes hardens.

I automatically flinch but start to smile. It's harder than usual. "Mother."

Smiling, she reaches out to pull me into an appropriate hug. After we separate, she looks me up and down. "Good gracious, Euphemia, what a sight you are!"

I look down at myself confused. I look the same as always. "What's wrong?" I ask cautiously.

"By Panem, how long have you been wearing this dress?" she chokes out, eyeing me suspiciously as if I were the little girl I used to be, who needs to be lectured. At this moment I feel the same way. "I've seen you wear it on TV more than once. Don't you bother choosing your outfits anymore?" I duck my head, knowing there's more to come. "And your punctuality leaves a lot to be desired as well, young lady! Didn't we agree on half past eleven? It's already twelve! You won't believe how long I've waited here!"

This is my mother again exceeding my expectations. I give her the fake smile I've given her for the years. She's always like that, I don't think she even means it personally. "I apologize, mother, but-"

"It really isn't her fault, ma'am. To be honest, I'm to blame because I felt compelled to have one last tactical briefing with our team, so we had to leave a little late." Puzzled and utterly surprised, my mother and I turn to Haymitch at the same time. He just stands there, a polite smile on his face.

"And who are you?" my mother asks, looking Haymitch up and down with a grim expression. I do know, however, that she recognizes him. How could she not. She lives for the Hunger Games.

"Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th Hunger Games," says Haymitch, ignoring her gaze and reaching for her hand to kiss the back of it.

I stare at the scene in front of me, a little puzzled. I'm feeling a little taken aback because that side of Haymitch rarely comes out. He can be quite the charmer when he wants to, but more often than not he saves this act for the cameras. When he gives me a quick look, I return it gratefully. He lied for me. Like a real gentleman.

"Lyssandra Trinket," my mother introduces herself in amazement and continues in a fake voice and an attractive smile. "How wonderful to see my daughter in the company of a victor. And then such extraordinary manners. I'm very impressed, Euphemia. Although I've heard a few other things about him that aren't worth mentioning."

I smile awkwardly, hoping Haymitch doesn't take offense at her cutting him out of the conversation. She likes to do that, talking about you in the third person. It's a way of placing yourself in a power role in the social fabric.

"I actually didn't expect you to take our meeting so serious and do your mother the favor of introducing her to the only surviving Quarter Quell victor!" So she really did recognize him beforehand ... Her voice is several octaves up, skyrocketed with joy, and I'm sure she'll have a lot to tell her friends this afternoon. She happily grabs Haymitch's arm.

"Tell me, Haymitch, how do you like the Capitol?" she asks, now turning her full attention to Haymitch. If I'm lucky and my mom stays in a good mood, she might refrain from making me the center of her conversation.

"It's very ... tremendous," Haymitch replies evasively, flashing his most endearing smile. This is the version of himself she should know him from his Games. We handled many interviews together, but his behavior still surprises me. He probably saved it for all those pesky Capitol fans.

My mother's artificial laugh pulls me back to reality. "It must be a tremendous honor to mentor two such extraordinary tributes." She doesn't even bother to invite us to her table, and I can't help a smug smirk as I shake my head. "And then at a Quarter Quell! You'll steal the show from your tributes by being the only living victor in this fascinating story." My mother sounds so excited that I have to look at her for a moment to read her true intent.

Strangers wouldn't have read a change in Haymitch's expression, but I, having known him for so long, immediately see his eyes darken at her comment. But he puts up a brave front and his smile is even wider than before. I didn't even know he could smile like that. Because he doesn't usually smile for the cameras, at least very rarely when he's having a good day.

Slowly, it's getting unbearably hot under the midday sun. My mother finally seems to realize as she starts to move and leads us to her table. It's situated at the edge of the terrace and not in the middle, for which I am extremely grateful. "You're lucky I reserved the table in advance, Euphemia," she remarks casually as Haymitch pulls away from her and pulls her chair back so she can sit down. Apparently she hasn't forgotten my presence after all.

Stunned, I watch Haymitch wait for my mother to sit down, moving to take the seat at her right. She's able to give him one last languishing gaze before he turns to me. I'm glad she can't see the look in his eyes because his back is to her. He rolls his eyes theatrically and I can see him suppress a sigh. You could have warned me.

I silently raise my brows and curl my lips in a small, malicious smile before I sit down as well. My shoulders hint at a barely noticeable twitch. I warned you, but you didn't want to listen.

The waitress's not long in coming and asks for our order with a smile. All she does is stare at Haymitch. A few people seem to recognize him. She's not of legal age, I can see immediately. She's dressed far too casually for that.

"Another coffee for me," my mother orders, batting her eyelashes - that are far too long - at Haymitch.

"I'll have an orange soda and a bottle of mineral water, please," I add, smiling polite and distant, as it's required. Then I cross my legs and place my purse on my lap.

The waitress expectantly looks at Haymitch, as do I. He takes his time while undecidedly studying the drinks menu. To my great surprise, he then proceeds by looking at me. I shake my head almost imperceptibly, he nods. "Then I'll have a coffee too, please." The waitress nods, but doesn't find the courage to speak to Haymitch and disappears.

Inwardly, I am already preparing for the stream of questions that will soon follow. My mother always asks questions. About rumors and all the half-truths that are being secretly told in her circles. It's only when she turns her head in my direction, as if remembering that I still exist, that I realize Aurelia isn't here.

"Where's Lia?" I ask her, examining her black nails.

"Aurelia is busy, Euphemia," she says, pursing her lips. She doesn't like the nicknames we've kept since childhood. "I organized a photoshoot for her, Caius accompanies her." Caius is her husband. Aurelia is five years older than me and already married. Already married … married for a long time is probably more appropriate, after all she is already forty.

"Good for her," I say slowly, smiling slightly. I don't let on that it bothers me that she only ever organizes appointments, auditions and photoshoots for Aurelia. I'd never bring it up with her, but it still seems a little unfair to me. If she gave me the same opportunities as her, I could have similar success. But in my mother's eyes, my sister has a special place in the spotlight.

My mother wouldn't be my mother if she didn't spot the sticking point for herself. She eyes me with a sigh. "Well, if you tried harder, maybe you'd be offered shoots more often. I've offered to check for you more than once."

I slightly shrug my shoulders. "It's not the same when I have to ask for a shoot as when you get Aurelia one without thinking twice."

"I encourage talent, my dear, your talents are somewhere else," she explains in a calm voice and then moves on to more important things. "I heard they wanted to transfer you to District Five. Is that true?" My mother has never been one to beat around the bush.

I tilt my head to one side and let the air flow through my lungs for a second. Then I close my eyes several times and consider doing her the favor of denying the rumors to make her feel better. Instead, I smile slightly and nod. "I wonder where you people got all this information from. Shouldn't that be a confidential matter?" Of course, it's not confidential. This is the Capitol, everyone talks about everyone here. It's funny that it took so long for her to even get wind of it. I'm not her number one topic of conversation anymore, it seems, and I'm a little relieved.

She simply ignores the reproach of my words. Something seems to upset her, I can tell by the way her right eye twitches briefly. I'm still not prepared for her outbreak. "Then why in Panem's name are you still hanging around in this miserable district? Euphemia, if you expect to get victors every year from now on, then you're sorely mistaken! These children will die as they have for years! You cannot change that!"

I might have flinched from such a harsh statement by any other person, but not by my mother. I push myself against the back of the chair with all my might and swallow the words I wanted to use in response to her comment. My cheeks feel numb like she hit me. Even as I keep my mask on the outside and look at my mother with a neutral look in the eyes, her words feel like a cold pang in the chest. "I see some potential in District Twelve, Mother. Even if you might not share this view."

I risk a glance at Haymitch, who's clenched his fists to keep his composure. He stares at the floor. I warned him. My mother laughs a bitter laugh. "Take a realistic look, Euphemia. Katniss and Peeta were an exception, albeit a very surprising and positive exception. This year they're up against experienced killers. Who do you think will go down first in the pack?"

I close my eyes. It is infinitely exhausting to meet her demands. I feel like I'm failing every time. No matter what I do, she'll find some way to criticize my decision. It has always been like this. "I grew fond of them, mother. I wanted to continue working with them. Also, Heavensbee approached me with the offer before the Quarter Quell announcement," I try to explain myself instead, even though I don't remotely believe that feelings have any value in my mother's opinion. She is a smart woman, with a fresh mind, but she uses it for her own power games and values. The term family has meaning for her as long as its members are successful enough for her to benefit from their ascents.

My mother ignores my words. She leans across the table and her blue eyes lock into mine. She doesn't look angry, more worried, which surprises me. "Darling, it's irrelevant whether you like your victors or not. They gave you the success you needed, but now there comes a point where they'll just steal the show from you. Katniss and Peeta are victors of the Hunger Games, and you'll always stand in their shadows. I only want what's best for you, so I know a new district will benefit you. It could be the last chance to give your career a new boost."

Haymitch looks like he's having a really hard time keeping his tongue in check. His fingers grip the table and he struggles to breathe evenly. It's a mystery to me how he manages to keep his mouth shut. What is he thinking? My mother makes it seem like the two liked to have been crowned victors. As if they enjoyed the journey there. As if they did it for the glory my mother wants for me, which I've been aiming for for too long. But Haymitch knows how difficult it is to survive the arena. He knows what things you'll never get out of your head after, that haunt you every night. He knows what it's like to see people from home die. He knows because he was there himself. Because he survived the arena .

"I've already made my decision, mother," I choke out, exhaling at the same time. "You can say whatever you like, but it's already too late since I turned down the offer." The silence is stinging and I know I've upset her. She loves being in charge too much for my independent decisions to make her happy in any way. Again I show her what has become of her daughter. The exact opposite of what she imagined. The exact opposite of Aurelia.

My mother's lips tighten in dissatisfaction, and if her icy blue eyes could kill, I probably wouldn't be among the living now. I meet her gaze harshly, the only form of defiance I allow myself. It's not the first time I've disagreed with their view, the Capitol's. But it's the first time I've given it to her so definitively on a silver platter. And she knows that. Haymitch is looking at me too. For a moment, his face shows satisfaction.

Before my mother can break out into another tirade, the waitress arrives and serves us the drinks we've ordered. I thank her politely as the only one of the three of us. "Do you have any other wishes?" she asks kindly.

Haymitch lifts the cup to his lips and downs the entire contents in a second. If he's burned himself, he doesn't show it. He puts the cup down on the table with a crack that is a bit too aggressive. Is that how he always imagined the typical conversations in the upper class of the Capitol? Possibly. "A glass of your most expensive wine for me, please."

The day can hardly get any worse. I give Haymitch an apologetic look, but he's closed his eyes like thinking of another place will be enough to make him disappear into thin air. I could have foreseen him turning to alcohol because of my mother. Sorry, I fill my glass halfway with the orange soda and then pour in the mineral water. I mix it up with the straw.

"You're still drinking it the same way", my mother says all of a sudden, looking down at my lemonade with amazing softness. I raise my eyebrows in confusion, a gesture she for once doesn't scold me for. "You drank it like that when you were a child," she replies, truly smiling. Her smile instantly takes me back to another time. She used to smile like that when we were younger. But the older we got the cooler it got.

Suddenly my stomach feels heavy. I don't want to think about earlier. I don't want to think about her. Suddenly I realize that not only have I changed, but she has too. "Listen, mother," I row back. "I'm used to District Twelve and I like working there." They wouldn't transfer me again anyway, because I'm the only one who can keep Haymitch under control.

With a flouting gesture of her hand, she waves her hand and shakes her head. Disappointment sparkles in her eyes, but for a brief moment I have the feeling that I can see behind her mask. Something else flashes beneath the disappointment. If she wasn't her, I'd have taken it for worry. "You can't imagine how disappointed I am in you, Euphemia. Why don't you ever listen to me? Why do you have such a stubborn mind? I could make your life so much easier." Her voice doesn't fit. She doesn't sound resigned as usual. A touch of fear resonates in her words and gives them an unpleasant aftertaste.

"I deeply apologize for never living up to your standards," I reply, cocking my head angrily. It's the wrong words and I know it, but I can't sit still and take her criticisms forever. Aurelia may be able to do this, but I am not.

"It's funny that your sister never had a problem with that. Follow her example at least once, dear. She's achieved so much in her life." She smiles at the thought of Aurelia.

"Of course" I say calmly and smile back. "How improper of me to forget that Aurelia probably would have done my job better than I do."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Euphemia," my mother remarks pointedly. "Neither does jealousy. Instead, you could be proud of her like the rest of the family. You could let her help you more often."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Aurelia loves you more than anything, Euphemia, I've already spoken to her about your situation. She and Caius are having a garden party next month, and some of his senior colleagues will be there. She's ready to introduce you to them."

My eyes immediately shoot up to her. "So this topic again? Mother, I don't believe in your matchmaking attempts. In addition, these usually backfire." The rejection in my mood is unmistakable.

"Do you remember Titian? Such a great man and I still can't believe you let him go! Aurelia got you in touch with him, mind you," my mother reminds me, giving me her stern look. At the same time, her eyes sparkle. She's not happy with me.

"You know what I can't believe? That you're still mourning him. He looked at me like a piece of meat." Disinterested, I cross my legs.

"He was just showing interest," my mother interjects, pursing her lips.

"Yeah right, I hope I was one of the better pieces", I mutter under my breath. Haymitch gives me a look and kicks my foot in warning.

I don't pay any attention to him because it's only now that her words really penetrate my brain and I understand what she really wanted to tell me. The mood changes immediately. My skepticism suddenly turns to anger. Anger she is not prepared for.

"Wait," I say in a tone that makes her stop abruptly. I raise my hand to hold back her words. "You mean I wouldn't meet men without Aurelia's help?" My eyes lock into hers and I see that she won't take back her words.

"Well, Euphemia, I hate to hurt your pride, but I don't see your point. What relationship did you have after Titian?"

"I meet men often enough to answer your question."

"Oh, of course, I know more than enough about that thanks to the press." She rolls her eyes and holds up one of the magazines that are set out decoratively on each table. "I'm talking about serious, long-term relationships, not ... affairs. What you do behind closed doors is none of my business."

I just stare at her for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "Have you ever thought about the fact that I'm not interested in committing? I'm fine on my own."

"But that's not the point. People are starting to wonder why our daughter hasn't found a partner yet. Is there something wrong with her? You know, it all reflects badly on us." She reaches across the table for my hand, which is clutching the table.

Why does my mother always have to think of herself? Why can't she just let me live my life in peace ? If I were dissatisfied with my life situation, I'd change something. Let people wonder. Apparently, they don't seem to have anything better to talk about than my life. Gossip and tittle-tattle.

"I dated Seneca Crane before he became Head Gamemaker," I say, answering her question. Haymitch takes one long look at me, and I can tell he's negatively surprised.

"But Seneca is no longer with us. So not a potential candidate", my mother retorts. I almost laugh.

I sigh and rub my temple. "I'll take care of it," I hear myself say, and part of me wonders why I'm still trying to please her when she's never cared about my efforts.

"I count on that," my mother replies, more gently now. But then something flashes in her eyes. "And I expect you to make an effort to break away from Twelve as well."

I lean back to get a better look at her. "You really can't help it, can you? You still think you have some right to tell me what to do with my life."

"I only want what's best for you and Aurelia," she says, looking at Haymitch, who is watching us in silence. "I don't think this is the right place for such a conversation."

"Why not? Just tell me the truth. You wouldn't even care if I married Alastair Warren as long as his fortune was big enough." Stupid example, but I can't think of a better one. Alastair is an old colleague of my father's. Ancient. "Do you think Aurelia married Caius for love? She only married him because you asked her to. You burdened her and she bent to your will just to make you happy. And she always has."

The grip on my hand tightens and she pulls me a little closer to her. "Are you aware of what you're saying? You better watch your tongue before-"

"Before what?" I whisper back angrily. "You're not blind, mother. Everyone knows about his affairs." I shrug, knowing I'm crossing a line. "One doesn't marry for love anymore, although I doubt it was any different with you back then."

My mother's blue eyes, so similar to mine, stare through me as if I'm not there. As if I ceased to exist in that second. A blind mask of anger flashes across her face. "Everyone gets what they deserve," she then remarks, raising her chin.

"I don't want anyone who has two others behind my back," I force out. "And I highly doubt Lia wanted that."

My mother shakes her head. She's beside herself and presses her nails into the back of my hand. "Enough, Euphemia. Don't you dare talk about our family like that again."

I laugh but feel the pain in my chest. My face becomes an emotionless mask and for a moment we just stare at each other. It takes all my strength to keep my voice sounding neutral. "As you wish."

She immediately lets go of my hand as if burned. "Out of sight, out of mind. It's not too late yet. You can do it, you have the rest of your life."

I slowly nod. It feels like my body is reacting for me while my mind seems miles away. I smile at her and rummage in my purse. "I very much regret that our conversation has developed in such a direction. Unfortunately, it's already time for us to head back."

Astonished, my mother looks at the clock. "But we've only been sitting here for an hour," she remarks, dismayed. Even Haymitch gives me a stare.

"I'm sorry," I explain, counting out the money in my hand. "There's still so much to prepare for the Quarter Quell."

"But our Sunday brunch is still on, right?" she suddenly asks frantically, as if she's forgotten something important. Again, her mask seems to slip. As if the emotions underneath wanted to surface against their will.

I smile at her and nod. "Of course, mother." I always come on Sundays, but she knows that. Maybe my behavior shook her a little. Maybe she'll think about my words. Maybe ...

I want to say goodbye to her. Not with a hug, but with a bright smile. But to my surprise, she gets out of her chair and comes around the table. Stopping in front of me, she looks down at me for a second, conflict in her blue eyes. My blue eyes. Her behavior is strange. For someone who never lowers the facade like there is no facade, she's behaving differently from usual. More emotions slip away from her. As if the Quarter Quell would't leave her unscathed, even if I don't understand it. It's the event of the decade, something she's been looking forward to for months.

"Take care, will you?" Our hug lasts longer than usual, her arms not formally wrapped around my shoulders for once. More intense. Warmer. And when she pulls away from me, there's that concern in her eyes again, which makes me gape because I don't know what to do with that.

"See you on Sunday." My mother pats my cheek like I'm a little child and steps away from me. Then her eyes dart to Haymitch and the concern is replaced by something thoughtful.

I watch as Haymitch kisses her hand again and before he can turn around, I'm in motion. I don't want to turn to see her face one last time, dreading what I might find there. Just keep going.

My hands are shaking a bit, but I don't know if it's from nervousness or general stress. Only when I feel the hot tears forming in my eyelids can I be sure that it was actually the conversation with my mother that made me so upset. I blink them away. It would be ridiculous to shed tears over this, knowing the expectations I came in with today. It doesn't change the pain in my chest her words cause. But confusion also finds its way into my consciousness.

Hi and welcome back,

I hope you enjoyed this! Have a Merry Christmas!

Skyllen