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I’m making tea, and replaying Haymitch’s words in my mind over and over. About Lenore Dove, Louella, Mayislee, Wyatt, Woodbine, Effie, Mags, Wiress, Beetee, Ampert, Lou Lou, Sid, his mom, his dad, my mom, my dad.
My head starts to spin and I grip the counter to stay upright.
My heart is heavy and I wonder how I’ll make room for Haymitch grief on top of my own. So many names, so many lives, ended or ruined because of one man. One small selfish evil man.
Snow is dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
“Katniss?”
Peeta’s voice brings me back to reality.
The kettle is whistling and I didn’t notice.
I also didn’t notice Peeta had walked back into the Kitchen. Either his steps are getting lighter or I’m losing my edge.
“Sorry,” I say “I got it.”
I turn the stove knob off and grab the kettle.
“Are you okay?” Peeta asks.
His blue eyes are full of concern and worry. He’s worried that Haymitch’s words were too much and they’d put me in another depressive episode.
My depression has been more manageable the last couple of months. I fed myself, I shower, I hunt, I take my medications, and I even answer Dr. Aurelius’ phone calls. Sometimes we talk for the full hour, sometimes only for 10 minutes, but I pick up the phone.
And there’s Peeta. Peeta who bakes for me. Peeta who lets me watch him paint. Peeta who sits with me outside while I sing to the mockingjays in the backyard.
Peeta holds me at night when my nightmares wake us up. Peeta who keeps the ghosts of the dead at bay with his kisses.
Grief is still all consuming at times but Peeta helps. Peeta always helps. After tonight, I’m exhausted.
“I’m fine, really.” I try to sound reassuring as I avoid his eyes.
I pour hot water over a tea bag in each mug. I inhale deeply and practice “mindful breathing”. I stare at the mugs and I wait for the tea to steep.
Peeta walks up behind me slowly and wraps his arms around my waist. He holds me close and rests his chin on my left shoulder.
“It’s okay if you’re not okay. Haymitch told us a lot tonight.” Peeta says. His grip around me gets tighter.
“How are you okay?” I ask quietly. My eyes close and my hands reach up and grab his arms. I tilt my head towards his.
“I don’t think I was fully processing what he was saying. I was just trying to get a good enough description of Louella to get rough sketches started.” Peeta responds with a sigh. “It’s sinking in now though.”
I let go of Peeta, and stir the tea. I add sugar to my cup, and leave it out of Peeta’s. Peeta’s grip loosens and accepts the mug I hand him. I turn fully to face him. We both fall silent and sip on our tea. In truth Haymitch’s story rattled us both.
-
It started earlier that week after their weekly dinner. Katniss and Peeta were cleaning up the table and Haymitch was leaving his chair when he noticed the leather bound book on the kitchen island. He walked over, gently opened it and flipped through the first few pages.
Pages were filled with memories of Prim, Finnick, Rue, Peeta’s dad, and my dad. Peeta added portraits to the pages. Some small sketches with shading. Others were larger and in color with so much detail that they looked like photographs. I wrote the paragraphs. It required a lot of concentration to keep my handwriting neat and legible. It’s a good thing, I could focus on the letters rather than the words themselves.
His eyes lingered over my dad’s face. He made a pained face and took another swig of the bottle in his hand.
“That’s our memory book.” Peeta explained. “We write down the nice things we remember about people so we don’t forget.”
Haymitch nodded in acknowledgment.
And then in a low tone he said, “I knew him,” pointing at the picture of my dad, “he was my friend.”
Peeta whipped his head toward me with the question “Did you know that?” written all over his face.
I looked in Peeta’s direction with furrowed brows and shook my head “no” answering his unspoken question.
We both looked back at Haymitch. A hundred questions on the tip of my tongue. He knew my dad? How? When? Were they friends? Were they close? Were they like Gale and I before it all fell apart? Why didn’t he ever mention this before? Why didn’t my dad mention it?
I combed through my memories of my dad and everything he ever said to me. He never once mentioned being friends with the only living victor of District 12.
“Haymitch?” Peeta walked closer, putting a hand on Haymitch’s shoulder.
“Haymitch, if wanted to add your own people, that’d be okay too”
Haymitch shook his head and gripped his bottle tighter.
“Haymitch, it might help to remember,” Peeta said softly, “they deserve to be remembered.”
“You can take your time. Only talk when you’re ready,” Peeta continued, “we’ll write down what matters. I can do a portrait if you describe them.”
Peeta always knew what to say. Always knew how to comfort people. I would never have thought to say those things. All I could think to say were questions about my dad, but I was always the selfish one.
Haymitch let out a shaky breath.
“Not right now. I need to sober up a bit.” He rubbed his hand over his face. And mumbled something about heading home. Peeta walked Haymitch back to his house.
-
The day before yesterday Haymitch, Peeta, and I sat in the living room in my house. Peeta and I sat cuddled on the couch facing the fireplace. Haymitch sat in an armchair closer to the fire. He was semi- slumped over the armrest.
He was watching the flames dance in the fire when he said, “How about you kids grab that memory book of yours.”
His eyes were glassy and tears were threatening to spill over.
Peeta and I sat up from our relaxed positions. We couldn’t believe he was willing to tell us more so soon. I got up to grab the book from the kitchen counter. Peeta moved to get his pencil case and stretch pad from the end table of the other side of the living room. When I got back and sat back down; Haymitch started.
He talked about his mom and dad, and little brother, Sid. He talked about what they were like. Sid’s love of stars and his mom’s resourcefulness. His sisters. How his dad died in a mine fire. He didn't tell us how his mom and brother died but it felt like he would later. What life was like in District 12 and growing up with his family. He described what they looked like to Peeta in between his stories. I wrote everything I could into the book and left space for Peeta’s portraits.
Peeta and I just listened. We didn’t interrupt. We didn’t ask questions. I wrote and Peeta sketched. After a couple of hours the fire died down and so did Haymitch's voice.
“Thank you, Haymitch,” Peeta said. Peeta looked sad but glad that Haymitch shared such vulnerability. He ripped out a sketch he was working on of Sid and handed it to Haymitch.
“Please tell me if I got him wrong so I can fix it.”
Haymitch grasped and his face crumpled when his eyes fell on the paper.
“That’s him. That’s his face.” He choked back a sob.
Neither of us had ever seen Haymitch cry that hard before. It was heartbreaking but we didn’t say anything. We didn’t have to, because we understood. We just stayed and after a few minutes Haymitch got up to go home; taking Sid’s portrait with him. Peeta walked him again.
-
Last night he told us about Lenore Dove.
We were back in the living room after dinner again. We were prepared this time when Haymitch spoke up.
He told us about his girl. Lenore Dove Baird was Covey. She was smart, loud, and brave. She sang and played music. She was beautiful and named after a poem and color. They met in the woods when they were kids.
My hand cramped several times from how fast I was writing. But Peeta sketched slowly and carefully, playing close attention to Haymitch’s description.
Haymitch also told us about my dad. Things I never knew and some I already did. They were friends, the best of friends. They were brothers.
We learned about the Covey and their music.
I learned I was distantly related to Lenore Dove. Peeta looked over at me with a soft smile at this detail. I couldn’t guess what he was thinking but it was nice to learn about the family tree.
Haymitch was so lost in his memories even cracks a smile when he talks about Lenore Dove’s geese biting him once when he approached without an offering.
He doesn’t share intimate details about his relationship with Lenore Dove. I was extremely grateful but it was clear how much they loved each other. They didn’t hesitate, they didn’t waste time. They loved deeply and sincerely.
I knew he had lost her, I don’t know how or when, but I knew she was gone. Whatever happened, it broke him. The same way I’d break if I lost Peeta.
After a few hours, Peeta ripped the sketch from his pad. And silently handed it to Haymitch.
Haymitch stayed quiet for a long time staring at the portrait. His face remained neutral.
“I’d love to add some color to it, and I still have to shade it and add-“ Peeta said.
“It’s good.” Haymitch cut him off, “I just- I haven’t seen her face in a really long time. The way she was.”
We sat in silence for a moment. The only noise being the crackling fire.
“Thank you, Peeta.” Haymitch said. He gently brought the paper to his face and held it there.
“No need, Haymitch,” Peeta replied.
He got up to leave and wished us a good night. Again, he took the portrait with him and Peeta walked him home.
-
Tonight after dinner, Haymitch started to tell us about his game. Peeta and I sat on the couch, pen and paper at the ready. But we weren’t. Nothing could have prepared us.
He told us about his birthday. The cornbread. The cistern. His job as a mule. Seeing Lenore Dove. The flint striker. The apothecary shop. The sweets shop. The reaping. The four names that were called. The fact his name was not one of them.
Peeta and I had been silent up to this point but that earned a response from us. Our confused and panicked voices spat out questions frantically but he waved his hand up and down to silence us and said “I’m getting there. I’m getting there.”
After we quieted down he continued. He told us about Woodbine Chance. His illegal reaping. About Plutarch and his propos. The train ride. The cake. About Maysilee, Louella, and Wyatt.
He talked about the Capitol and his prep time. The showers. The Tribute Parade. Louella escaping the arena. His first poster. Ampert and his alliance proposal. Wiress and Mags. The training. Beetee. The potato. The district tokens. Snow in Plutarch’s house. Lou Lou. His score. Beetee’s plan. The Newcomers. Effie. The interviews. The phone call home.
Everything right until entering the arena.
By the time Haymitch was done it was past midnight and the fire was almost completely out.
Peeta didn’t have a portrait to share with Haymitch this time. I didn’t write down almost anything. We were both reeling and trying to process what he had just shared with us.
Haymitch looked relieved to let out what he'd been holding in all these years. He stared into the glowing embers in the fireplace. And for the first time I completely understand his drinking. I felt like having a drink.
The worst part is that he isn’t even done. We still don’t know what happened in the arena or after. The tape of second Quarter Quell Peeta and I watched on the train during the Victory Tour was seemingly completely fabricated.
“I’ll tell you the rest later.” Haymitch said as he got up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bum you kids out.” He added when he caught the look on our faces.
“Haymitch-“ I started. I searched for the strength to look him in the eye. My voice betrayed me and broke as I struggled to inhale.
“Alright, don’t start getting soft on me, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled a bit. He tapped my shoulder on his way out the front door.
-
My tea is getting cold in my hand as I stare at the kitchen floor. Peeta had put his mug down next to us on the counter.
“Katniss. Katniss, please.” Peeta pleas as he cups my face with his hands. “Katniss, look at me. You’re here with me.”
He brings his face close to mine and kisses me gently on the mouth. I kiss back instinctively. I place my mug on the counter and I move my hands to his hips and tug. Peeta responds by pressing his body up against mine and I sigh in relief. His hands explore my sides and hips and I move mine to wrap around his neck.
This isn’t the first time we’ve kissed. We kiss a lot lately. It’s usually in the privacy of my room. Soft kisses after nightmares quickly turned into more passionate making out before bed. We’re slowly kissing other places, too. The kitchen, his studio, the woods even. But if I’m being honest I’d kiss him anywhere anytime.
Peeta breaks the kiss first. I whimper in protest as his warmth leaves me. He always left me wanting more.
“I keep thinking about one thing Haymitch said though.” Peeta speaks lightly against my lips.
“You’re thinking of Haymitch right now?”
I ask, teasing him a bit.
“No,” Peeta laughs, “Although, I am already planning his cake for next month. No, I mean what he said about your dad saving my dad’s life on reaping day.” He pulls back a bit and strokes my right cheek with his thumb.
“Oh.” is all I can say.
I stop and consider this. Haymitch told a detailed story of his reaping or the lack of one. Woodbine ran. He was shot. The entire Square had been ordered to get down and those who didn’t obey were shot by a sniper on the roof of the Justice Building.
My dad who was next to Haymitch in their section had to punch Peeta’s dad in the back of the knee to make him get down. Someone near him had already been shot.
Peeta was right. My dad saved his dad’s life.
“You're right.” I respond.
“How crazy is that? If your dad hadn’t done that. My dad probably would have died and I never would’ve been born.” Peeta says.
I panic at the thought. A world without Peeta? No. No. No. No. My body fills with dread at the idea of a world where Peeta was never born. He was the boy with the bread. The dandelion in the spring. The hope for a future without the games. If he wasn’t alive to give me bread when I was starving I would have died all those years ago. Who would have decorated the cakes so lovely that Prim would drag me to the bakery display case just to look at them? Who would have gone into the arena with me? Would they have fought so hard to protect me in the arena? No, I would have died then.
I would have died, there would have been no rebellion. There would still be games.
Peeta must have seen the panic in my face because he hugs me tight again and begins to console me.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He kisses the side of my head as I wrap my arms tightly around him and bury my face in his neck. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”
I feel a sob begin to form in the back of my throat. A world without Peeta Mellark isn’t one I want to live in. I need him like the air I breathe.
“If you were never born. I would have died when I was 11.” I say. I’m trying so hard not to start crying. I adjust my head on his shoulder to breathe better.
“Katniss?” Peeta is confused now.
“No one else would have helped. No one else would have thrown that bread. Prim, my mom and I would have starved and died” I say as a sob escapes my mouth. My fingers clench his shirt.
“No, Katniss. Don’t say that.” Peeta whispers into my hair.
“It’s true. You know it's true.” I counter back.
Peeta pauses for a moment. I pull back slightly to look at his face.
Peeta’s eyes have softened. He knows I’m right, no one else would have helped. I wouldn’t be alive without him but he already knew that. We protect each other, it’s what we do.
He’s thinking carefully about the words he’ll say next. “I was just thinking how there’s this invisible string tying us together.”
I don’t respond as I try to figure out what he means.
“Your dad saved my dad’s life. I was born and I saved your life. You saved me. Then we protected each other through a Victory Tour, a Quarter Quell, a hijacking, and a war.”
I think, and take in Peeta’s words.
“It’s like we were meant to be. Here I am thinking this all started on the first day of school but we were already connected before we were even born.”
A smile forms on my face. He’s right. We were connected to one another long before either of us existed. Maybe our lives were always meant to collide, we’re tied together by fate and a punch to the back of a knee.
I understand my feelings for Peeta now. I know I love him, loving him is easy. We haven’t said the words yet, but we show it everyday. Learning that we’re connected in this way makes our love feel deeper. I like feeling close to Peeta. It makes me want to feel closer.
“You’re right. We’ve always been connected. It’s always been you and me.” I say. I bring my face close to his. “All along there was an invisible string tying you to me.”
“I never stood a chance. I was always gonna fall for a Covey girl.” Peeta says. He brushes his lips with mine.
I can’t take it anymore so close the gap between us and kiss Peeta. He kisses me back. I feel it again, the fire inside me that begs for more.