Potential energy was the best way to describe my mother the night before Reapings, like a spring. I was her only child, the result of a short lived affair, not a terribly uncommon thing, but one that had left her with a fairly large order to fill. With her taxing career and being a single mother with only fleeting, fair weather friends to rely on, and no family to show for her efforts I still never had reason or warrant to complain. She was always the best mother, anyone could hope for and an adiquit father too, we liked to joke. But there were dark days where something too obscure for my mind to grasp would permeate her sunny exterior and she would fall quiet. It had to do with her work in D and E, I think.
The Capitol, although she had one of the best paying jobs in the District, unfortunately, worked the poor woman to the bone each and every day exhausting her mind, body, and sprirt. It was so much so that she had little appetite some days, and it took much coaxing to get anything in her. She seldom even knew the date, it seemed regardless of her work and had to ask several times before she could finally put it to memory. Her job mostly entailed the design of pods, which was a harrowing endeavor for a woman as sensitive as she was. I was smart enough to be in pod design my self, even tinkered with it, but she taught me how to fake my placement exams, score lower than the minimum required and now I studied for work in wiring and electronics.
She was firm in crushing my once dream. I'd argued with her, and then she said she the one thing that would bring her world into focus for me. That she didn't want me to one day recognise something I had created ripping apart some poor Tribute in one Games or the other, to wake up one morning and realize that I was a murderer. This then, was the reason for her melancholy, and sometimes, distant inability to function. She was too soft, too kind, and blamed herself for the evils the Capitol used her for.
I never brought up working on pods again, but she did. It was when her guilt would eat away at her so terribly that eventually she broke down and poured her heart out to the only person she could rely on to hold her ground and guard her secrets. Honestly, I'm glad she kept me from that work as much of what she told me is horrifying and spoken only of in nervous trembling whispers.
Though this evening when she came home and sat beside me on the sofa I knew very well that tonight would be a night that there would be no such talk, and that she would rather go straight to bed. She always managed small conversation when she arrived though, no matter how poorly she was feeling and tonight was no different. "How was your day Cable?" she began.
"It was good." I answered honestly. "I experimenting with some rewiring and found a way to reestablish the workings of a disk reader to burn instead. It was simple and could save a lot of time rather than ordering one or the other. In theory the engineering could be reversed and applied to a burner, controversially."
"I'm glad you had a good day, but Cable, baby, you're home, you don't need to impress me, I already know what you can do. You don't need to talk so big." she replied, eyes closed and corkscrew blond hair sticking out at odd angles.
"Sorry mom." I apologized, hoping she wasn't getting a migraine, as she sometimes did. I was actually kind of anxious, she'd been rather happy all week long, giving me high hopes for tonight, but it didn't seem like it was meant to be. We've had a pre-Reaping tradition ever since I was twelve, it might appear odd to some, but I loved it, and if she wasn't feeling well, I doubted if this year we would keep to tradition. "In short, I messed around when I should have been working and made an innovation of science."
Mom laughed, "Oh is that all?" she asked. "And how is this secret crystalline project of yours coming?" she went on.
I grinned. I had this theory that with the reflectivity and atomic mass of most crystalline forms and the substantial quantity of information that can be marginalized down, that far more information could be stored at a nearly subatomic level on certain crystal structures with a micro-lazor, thus eliminating the need for disks all together and opening a whole new avenue for the sharing of data. Though of course with my lowly score and current position I didn't have access to the necessary equipment, not to mention that once used a crystal couldn't be revised, edited, or rewritten. "Still a theory, and still very much a secret." I laughed leaning over to rest my head on her shoulder. It was nice to know that I had someone that I could rely upon utterly, even if I did get called a mama's boy from time to time.
"The Reapings are tomorrow, aren't they?" she asked, eyes still closed.
"Yes, they are." I responded trying not to sound too hopeful or needy.
"Well," mom said slapping her hands on her knees as she prepared to stand. "We had better get into that kitchen!"
"We don't have to do it this year if you don't want to mom." I said standing at the same time she did. "Especially if you're not feeling well." What I said next crossed the line, without my meaning to. "I mean odds are-"
"Don't!" she snapped pointing an accusative finger in my direction, her attitude suddenly threatening. "I work in D and E, don't you dare talk about odds, they are never good and never in anyone's favor." My face fell, I hadn't meant to bring up Defense and Entertainment in any way, but sometimes I was a real dumbass. 'Odds' and 'favor' were essentially trademarked phrases of D and E, as well as being entirely to their own making.
"I'm sorry." I said earnestly.
"Don't be." mom sighed, her tone gentler as she recognized her own anger. "Just get into that kitchen and help me whip up some grub."
Then, all at once the spring was released and all that potential energy became kinetic energy, my mom was alive again and we were a team the way we always had been, but somehow forgot along the way. Mom heated oil, and prepped veggies. I diced onions and started on the meat. My fingers flew with trained precision, and hers rained down spices liberally.
Green curry. It was a fiery, expensive to make dish mom had, had once when she was called to the Capitol for business, and she'd fallen in love with it. All year, every year we ate bland and cheap saving up for the more expensive ingredients like coconut milk, mint, cilantro, cumin, cardamom, fennel, peppers, and lemon grass, just so once a year we could eat the fiery splendor that would be regretted the next day, as it was as much my favorite food as it was hers.
More than the curry though, this is what I treasured; the time together, laughing, the heat of the stove on our faces, dancing as we worked, singing even as we bumped into each, spilling our ingredients, making mistakes, and knowing it didn't matter, not when we had each other. Soon our tiny house was flooded with the warm, spicy aroma, and our eyes stung from proximity. Lidding the pot mom led the way back into the living while our prize simmered.
"You have the magic hands." mom said with a grin as we sat down. We tried to cook together at least once a month, it was our time together, but somehow curry night always seemed special.
"Well you have the skills, I nearly charred the eggplant!" I retorted feeling worn out, but in a good way. "What was your favorite part of the year?" I asked as our tradition dictated.
"Hmm," mom mused, this time resting her head on my shoulder. "Let me think, why don't you tell be yours."
I shrugged. "I dunno, my birthday maybe, yeah, my birthday."
Mom laughed, "Worst attempt at cake baking ever, plus leftover flour is equal to one part fun, and one part mess." I laughed at the memory. She had gotten home early and burned what was supposed to be a surprise cake, which was considerably cheaper than buying one, but made amends by ambushing me with a flour fight, which in retrospect is much like a snowball fight but much, much messier. "I like tonight best." she said with a hug.
Getting up after a while we laddled some of the piping hot food onto two plates of rice and sat down to eat. The first bite was, always a head rush and we both went straight for the water. About halfway in the heat stopped bothering us and we were able to savor the many subtle layers the dish had, same as every year. When we were done I helped clean up, then changed and told my mom goodnight. I admit I lingered, but eventually got into bed.
Light spilled into the dark of my room as mom came in shortly after. I wondered if she ever realized that I was just pretending as she kissed my forehead and adjusted my blankets. "No matter what happens tomorrow baby, know that you are my greatest treasure, and I love you!" she whispered from my doorway as she did every year after she had finished checking me over to insure not a single toe went uncovered.
I cursed myself silently as the light faded and her footsteps could be heard leading down the hall. I was too old for this, too mature to be crying into my pillow with fear and anxiety and the knowledge of my mother's guilt in the part she will play tomorrow, and even more that I could cause her death, but I was. It was coming over me, like giant oppressive waves baring down on a little sea tossed ship. I bit down onto my pillow and screamed, while mentally I commanded myself to be strong, be a man. Yet, more than anything, even with my mother's assurances, I was afraid of what tomorrow would bring...