Chapter Text
“Go on home, Katniss. There’ll be more waitin’ for you tomorrow.” Sae chuckles through her raspy words. Years of smoking are evident in the old woman’s voice, but she’s a hardy soul in spite of it. “C’mon now. Get!” she cough-laughs as her dish towel whips Katniss in the rear.
As much as Katniss would like to give Sae her hard scowl, she knows it’s all in fun, and she whips her right back. “Be careful, woman. You taught me all of your tricks.”
With a hard pat on Katniss’ shoulder, Sae relents. “That I did. That I did. See you tomorrow, young thing.”
Once Katniss removes her soiled apron and washes her hands, she grabs her satchel from the back office and exits the door to begin her walk home. Although her apartment building is only four blocks east and three blocks north of Greasy Sae’s Deli, Katniss prefers to take a longer route home when she’s lucky enough to have some daylight left after work.
She takes her time following her borough’s famous Tree Walk, the weather becoming a touch warmer and more humid as summer approaches. Katniss finds pleasure in hearing the leaves flutter with the breeze, the variation in colors delighting her senses. She often wonders how many tones of green, yellow, and orange exist in nature. Her fingers skim along the flat of each leaf as she passes by; some are smooth, some glossy, some crinkle and disintegrate under her grasp.
As she moves along her path, she barely feels the stress of the day. Forgets about the carcasses of meat she quartered, the birds she deboned and carved, the grinding of meat to create the perfect sausage, and all those unsavory acts that feed the majority of students from State College. Her friend Madge is a vegetarian and cannot tolerate hearing anything about her work at the deli, but Sae has mentored Katniss since she was in the tenth grade and boasts that Katniss is the finest butcher she’s ever had under her employ. Her care in using as much of the meat as possible with minimal waste pleases the old woman, and she’s kept her on with a good wage. Enough pay to allow Katniss to live in a small single apartment near work and school, and even better, in a neighborhood with beautifully tree-lined streets.
She’s reminded of her family, how they were before her father’s death. As a child, she would often accompany him into the woods, walking gently among the trees to forage edible plants and to hunt rabbits and other small game. Her skills with hunting and cleaning prepared her for this current job, and she takes it seriously. She respects the animals, understanding that they give their lives for her and others’ sustenance. She makes the most of them, as she was taught by her father.
Before she realizes, her foot lands on the crooked sidewalk just outside her brick building. A short jaunt up the steps and through the front door leads her to the row of mail boxes. Katniss would never openly admit it, but she hopes for a letter from her mother or her sister, Prim. She misses them deeply since they moved out to California when Prim received a college scholarship she couldn’t pass up.
Her fingers card through the letters in her hand, but she sighs when it’s only a stack of bills and marketing spam. And, of course, a letter for Madge. Grumbling to herself about the constant mix-ups in their mail delivery, she turns around and promptly stops in her tracks.
It’s him .
He’s lived in her building since January, two doors down the hall, as a matter of fact, but they’ve yet to speak to each other. She knows his name from the mailbox, knows he leaves at the crack of dawn to go who-knows-where, knows he comes home, plays loud music for an hour, then leaves again. She hears him lumber down the hallway after midnight on those nights when she can’t sleep, when she stares at the window wishing the sunrise would appear.
She knows how his sandy blond hair is long enough to brush the tips of his eyelashes, and that a simple jerk of his head to the side rids himself of the annoyance. She knows he’s just tall enough that she would have to perch on her tiptoes to meet him eye to eye, and she knows how he smells after a shower.
That’s how he smells right now, like a walk through the woods. Earthy, with a hint of grass, cedar, and pine. Her tongue struggles to say something. Why can’t she ever say something? But instead, he flits his eyes to hers, offers a shy smile, and brushes past her in his silent departure.
Why can’t he ever say something?
She exhales the breath that was stuck in her throat and shuffles lightly to Madge’s door. Only two knocks in, Madge swings the door open, greeting Katniss with a beaming smile. She twirls with her hands above her head like a ballerina and pauses as she gazes toward the ceiling of her fashionably-decorated apartment. After twenty seconds of silence, Madge turns toward Katniss.
“Well... what do you think?” Katniss’ puzzled expression forces Madge to continue. “For my date tonight. Have you forgotten?”
“It’s tonight?” Katniss can’t hide her disappointment. She relishes her Friday night girl time with Madge. She’s the only person Katniss knows who understands her, or at least tolerates her, and allows her to be the quiet one. Sometimes they’ll sit side by side, silently munching on popcorn and watching a movie together. It was Madge who helped her get into the rent-controlled apartment to begin with, so being next-door neighbors works out perfectly.
Madge shakes Katniss softly by the shoulders. “Look at me,” she says with a glimmer in her eyes. “You know I told you about my date. Don’t try to pretend you forgot.”
The truth is that Katniss did forget, but it was only because she had been distracted by her own self-pity. She now remembers the night Madge told her about the date. Katniss had just gotten a call from Prim, excitedly reporting about life at school, bragging about the boys she had to fight off, sounding so happy that Katniss couldn’t help but feel sad for herself. She would be the first one to say that it had been completely selfish of her to react that way, but there she was, dwelling on herself for that moment and letting any words Madge had to say float right through her.
“I remember now,” Katniss said with an attempted smile. “It looks perfect for...”
“Dinner and dancing,” Madge interrupts and laughs. “Katniss, are you on some other planet? What’s going on?”
Katniss digs deep down, trying to find the positives of the situation. She’ll be able to have a glass of wine, read a book, watch a movie. Stare at her bare walls, eat canned soup. It’ll be a blast.
“I’m not feeling too well, Madge, but you look stunning. That guy, Garry, will consider himself lucky."
“Gale,” Madge corrects. “His name is Gale, Katniss. And don’t start with me on his name.”
Katniss laughs in earnest, delighting in how Madge gets all worked up. She puts her hands up in surrender and reassures her friend. “Forgive me, please. I’m the last person to make fun of names, considering my father named me after a root. Do you need me to stay and help you get ready?”
“No thanks. He’ll be here soon, so I better finish up. But I’ll make it up to you next Friday with a double feature... my treat!”
Katniss wraps Madge in a hug, careful not to mess with her attire. “That sounds like a plan!” she says, then releases her and walks toward the door. “Hope you have a fun date. Oh, and here.” She hands Madge the envelope addressed to her, and they share a knowing laugh about the recent mishandling of their mail.
“Are they ever going to fire that guy?” Madge asks, shaking her head.
“We’ll probably have to wait ‘til he retires.”
“Probably,” Madge giggles. “See ya, Kat.”
“See ya,” Katniss says, striding into the hallway and gazing to the left for a few seconds to glance at his door before marching through her own for the night.
With finals week behind her, Katniss is in a much lighter mood than she had been the week prior. Even Madge had complained about her attitude, and she is one of the few who tolerates Katniss’ darker side like a champ. But the school year had been wearing on Katniss, working at Sae’s along with maintaining at least a B average to keep her partial scholarship. And the audacity of the Biology department requiring so many classes with labs. Why don’t they just give double credit for those?
And she’s alone. Heart-achingly alone.
Sure, she has Madge. But since she started dating Gale exactly three weeks ago, Madge has been very distracted. Katniss doesn’t mind listening to her friend’s stories of sex and romance, but to feign happiness and interest is altogether too much for her to bear. So when Katniss finally had enough, she lashed out at Madge, and she hasn’t spoken to her all week.
It seems like everyone’s lives are moving forward. Madge with Gale, Prim with school, her mom and the new hospital program she’s developing in California, but Katniss’ life has become stale. Work, school, sleep. The cycle of her life, ever-turning, yet not going anywhere.
As she walks with determination up her steps, she vows to apologize to Madge. She knows she was in the wrong and wants to beg her forgiveness. It’s the beginning of summer, and she needs her friend back, even if it’s part-time. She practices different ways to speak the words that are so difficult for her to say. She opens the door and imagines herself kneeling in front of her. No, that’s a little dramatic. She pulls her mail from her box and rehearses apologetic verses she’s heard from her favorite movies, but it’s all too contrived.
She arrives at Madge’s door and knocks. When the blonde, usually upbeat girl she knows swings the door open, face full of pain and eyes full of sorrow, all Katniss can do is drop everything and hold her. Tears and apologies and sobbing is followed very soon by questions and answers. And all Katniss has to do is be honest, and it feels authentic and true.
So now that all the crying has been replaced by laughter, the ladies plan their Friday night— the first official girls’ night of summer. Madge recommends going out to a bar by the campus, living it up, rather than a quiet night at home. Katniss reluctantly agrees, still trying to make up for her poor behavior of late. She picks up her bag along with the mail she had dropped on the floor upon entering and goes next door to her apartment to change.
Katniss is ready before Madge, as usual, so she sits at the table to wait, flipping through the day’s mail. Bill, junk, junk, bill, letter, junk— wait— not just a letter, a handwritten envelope from Capitol Department Store addressed to Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen?
Dumbfounded yet curious about the contents, she opens it swiftly and reads to herself:
Dear Mr. Mellark and Ms. Everdeen,
Capitol Department Store is pleased that you have opened an online Wedding Registry for your forthcoming nuptials. We noticed that you have only begun to choose items for your registry and would like to extend our concierge services to you in order to complete your selections. We are located on the third floor by the China and Housewares Department. Please see Effie Trinket, our supervising wedding concierge, for assistance when you arrive. It is often much easier to choose with our expert help, and Ms. Trinket is at your service between the hours of 10 am - 5 pm Monday through Friday.
Thank you once again, and we hope to make this transition a special one.
Sincerely,
Plutarch Heavensbee
Capitol Department Store, State College, PA
Director, Online Marketing and Sales
Her hands shake and her mouth falls slack as she fumbles to review the envelope once again. There it is, in beautiful cursive handwriting: Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. Upon further inspection, it’s addressed to his apartment— another mess-up by the mailman.
His address. And her name. Next to his name. Their names together?
A myriad of thoughts fly through her mind. It could be a practical joke, a mistake, but why?
What if...
A smile tugs at her lips. What if?
A knock at the door startles her back to Friday night— girls’ night. She hollers for Madge to come in while she stuffs the letter into her bag. She has no idea what is going on, but Katniss Everdeen is more than ready to get out of the apartment tonight.
Katniss is known to be impulsive, so the wait until Monday feels like weeks rather than days. She even risks being caught, pulling the letter out by his mailbox just to be sure that’s really his name on the address. How could they make this mistake? Why would there be a registry under both their names?
Then it hits her. It’s addressed to him. It must have been a practical joke from a friend. Maybe there is no Effie Trinket. Maybe one of his buddies, whom she has yet to ever see, took a random name from his apartment building and wrote up a mock letter to freak him out. Yes, that must be it; there really is no other reasonable explanation.
Determined to find out, Katniss takes the bus to Capitol first thing Monday morning. Katniss hasn’t been inside a store like Cappy’s since they bought Prim’s graduation dress here last year. Who really has money for all these nonessentials?
The signs lead her way to the elevators, where she rides up to the third floor. The elevators alone are a treat. The clear glass panels reveal the entire store at a bird’s eye view. She touches the panes with the flat of her palm, gazing silently at all the fine goods that won’t ever make it into her home.
The ding signals her exit, so she steps out into a lobby full of crystal. Shelving lines the walls with cut glass vases, sculptures, bowls, and frames. She instinctively tucks her hands into her pockets for fear of knocking any of the expensive pieces down. Katniss never thought of herself as a girly girl, wanting pretty things to decorate her home, but now that she’s immersed in it, she feels a surge of hope flowing from her head to her toes.
“Excuse me, dear, may I help you?” Katniss shifts toward the unfamiliar voice to respond, but is taken aback by the woman’s strange appearance.
Her hair is pink with gold tips, framing a starkly pale face. She bats her golden eyelashes as she waits for Katniss to speak, pursing her bright pink lips in disdain. Katniss can only imagine that her clothes appear to be straight off the runway since she has only seen models in magazines wear apparel as ghastly and odd as hers.
“Are you lost, my dear?” The condescension drips from her voice as Katniss remains mute. That is, until she focuses on her name badge reading, Effie Trinket .
“Effie Trinket!” Katniss exclaims. “You’re real.”
The living example of Glamour Magazine’s “What Not To Wear” replies drolly, “Of course darling, I am most certainly real. How is it that you know me?”
Katniss fumbles around her purse for the letter and shoves it in Effie’s direction. “Here. I received this the other day, and I think there’s been a mistake.”
Effie’s eyes scan the letter as she glides toward her desk and takes a seat in front of the computer. She types on the keyboard, the clicking from the tips of her nails creating a kind of beat that causes Katniss to start humming unconsciously until the tune ceases abruptly.
“Well, Miss Everdeen, there is no mistake. You are indeed registered to one Peeta Mellark; however, the registry appears to be incomplete. There is no date set, and there are only two items selected.” Effie wrinkles her nose as she says, “And they’re both cutlery items.”
Before thinking, Katniss asks, “May I see those items please? I— I think the registry was started before I had a chance to look myself.”
She guides Katniss over to one corner of the department, next to the pots and pans. Her eyes go wide as she takes in all the glimmering stainless steel and the variety of knife handles that are displayed before her. Her hand automatically rests on the acrylic cabinet, craving to touch each and every one. But instead, she waits as Effie uses a key to obtain the two knives that had already been entered on the registry.
“Here we go, dear,” Effie says as she lays the knives onto the counter. “Both are from the Mason line of cutlery, which is the crème de la crème. Notice the pearlized handles and the heavy feel of the knives in your hand?”
Katniss holds each knife, one a 9” double-serrated bread knife and the other, a 10” butcher’s knife. She inspects them closely, not used to knives being so... pretty. She uses knives everyday at work, but she’s never held a butcher’s knife of this quality. The handhold is perfect, with just enough weight to give leverage as she cuts, and the blade itself is thick and curved at the tip, perfect for so many of the tasks she performs at Sae’s.
She doesn’t know one person who could afford to purchase this knife for themselves, let alone as a wedding gift. What’s the point of filling out a registry full of expensive items when no one can buy them for you?
She hands the knives back to Effie. “Thank you for showing me these. I’m sorry to have taken your time, but I better be going now.” Although the mystery has not been solved, Katniss has a feeling she’s in way over her head. She has no idea who is playing this prank on her, but it’s someone that knows she’s a butcher, or they wouldn’t have chosen that knife. But what about the bread knife?
Effie takes the knives and places a scanner in her hand. “Why don’t you stay and choose some more things for your registry, dear. It’s so paltry only having two items. Don’t you agree?”
“But you don’t understand—this—this is a huge mistake.”
Effie takes Katniss by the elbow, steering her toward the crystal and china. “I understand how brides get cold feet just as much as the grooms, but maybe it will cheer you up to pick out a few things, put you in a better mood. You know, to help picture how your life will be together. Sometimes imagining how it will feel eating from these beautiful plates and sipping from the sparkling crystal makes everything seem that much better.”
Katniss cringes at Effie’s enthusiasm, but can’t help wondering how fun it might be to pretend. Plus, it would make it so much easier to choose a few things and get Effie off her back. She grips the scanner tightly, looks into her ardent assistant’s eyes, and says, “Okay. Show me how to work this thing.”
It’s well past two by the time Katniss finds herself stepping off the bus near home. Her stomach rumbles, so she quickly darts into the bakery for a rare treat. She’s in a celebratory mood, having chosen all the fine china, crystal, and silverware—literally utensils made of silver— that she will never own or use. And even though some might find that sad, she found it strangely cathartic. Growing up with little money, Katniss learned to survive, her life becoming a day to day effort to keep going, keep moving forward. But every once in awhile, she would gaze at another girl’s beautiful dress and wonder how it would feel. Or she would look through the windows of a fancy restaurant imagining how the food might taste that much better served on fine china.
Now that she’s held it all in her hands and has chosen her favorite leaf-rimmed dinnerware, simple but elegant crystal, and plain yet feminine flatware, she realizes it’s only stuff. More stuff on which to spend money, to fill one’s cupboards, and give one a false sense of security. It doesn’t comfort you when you’re down, make you laugh at your worst moments, and help you feel whole again. But that knowledge is powerful for Katniss, and she’s pleased that she spent the time at Cappy’s discovering what she’s already known: a plate is a plate, a glass is a glass, and a fork is a fork. It’s who you share it with that makes all the difference.
And with that thought and a cheese-covered bagel in her hand, she becomes more somber, her cheery mood of revelation replaced by a sense of longing she can’t quite understand.
It’s because she misses her family, she tells herself, taking a big bite of the the warm, cheesy snack. Or more likely, it’s because she really needed to eat, she surmises, chewing ravenously as she gets closer to home. Her belly full, she brushes crumbs from her lips as she bounds up the stairs of her building.
She opens the door, and that’s when their eyes meet. Peeta Mellark, her faux fiancé, scrutinizes Katniss as she pushes her way past him. His mouth parts slightly as if he wants to speak, but whatever words he has remain dormant on his tongue. Alarm fills her chest as everything she’s done today reemerges in her mind. What was she thinking? Fearing that he’ll be able to see right through her and learn her secret, she fixes her eyes to the ground, and hurries past him toward her apartment.
She hears him call out to her, but doesn’t realize it until she’s safe and sound in her apartment, with her back against the door. Between heavy breaths, her lips slowly curve to a smile.
He knows her name.