Chapter 30: A Walk Down Memory Lane
The days pass slowly. I don't eat much, I sleep more than I'm awake, and my mind is blank all of the time. I know this isn't what Katniss would want, but she's not here to stop me. I have no inspiration for painting, and when I think I do, they just turn out as blobs of color. Buttercup is my only company. He's even more active than I am.
Why do you think she left, huh? I mean, did she get tired of you in... oh it was only the one week. That bitch doesn't care about you. You don't need her. Look at you, this is because of her, I hear the voice ring in my head all of the time.
She needs time, the same as you did after the first Games. She asked you to get over her, to move on. This is not because of her, the other voice assures. I don't even comprehend anything either of them say.
One morning, while I walk through town, simply to stretch my tightened legs, I realize I'm on the path taken to get towards the bakery. I've grown accustomed to not looking on the sides of the road, that's where the bodies lay.
I walk to the ruins of my old home. I wonder how far my family got before the bombs hit them. Maybe they didn't get anywhere at all. I start to gag as I envision myself standing on my parents' skeletons. This is exactly why I don't come here anymore.
She asked you to do this.
Who cares? She told you she loved you, too.
I look at my feet, at the dark black ash. I walk around, finding my way by memory. The base of the oven is still there. Shards of glass from the windows and doors are littered on the floor. Pieces of clothes and quilts can be seen from under the shards of debris.
I begin to imagine what I could do to rebuild the place. I could hire a few people to help me. It would give me something to do.
I'm walking to the Hob before I even have a solid plan in my mind. When I walk in, warmth and the smell of freshly made soup and food hits me. For the first time in days, I feel hungry. Greasy Sae spots me over her counter, full of feasting people.
"Hey, honey, you look a little peaky. Do you want some stew? Fresh rabbit and vegetables," she says politely.
I take off my coat and say, "That would be wonderful, thank you. Everything smells so amazing."
"Ha, that's just the winter chill getting to you. If it were hot and humid, like it is in the summer, I can assure you it wouldn't smell nearly as welcoming," she replies, turning her attention to a pot on the stove behind her.
"I'll take your word for it," I say with a smile, taking a seat beside a man with a grey beard. He eats quietly, savoring each bite.
"Here you go," Greasy Sae says to me, placing a bowl of stew, the same kind the man beside me has, in front of me. "So, what's on your mind?"
I stop moving my spoon to my mouth and look at her. "What do you mean?" I ask, trying to mask my obvious low-spirit.
"No one that knows how to bake comes in here to buy some soup," she says with a smile. I return one.
"Well, it's just that... I want to try to rebuild my bakery, just to be able to sell some food again, and to take my mind off things. But I didn't know where to find help with that. I don't know how to build anything," I tell her. She looks sad at me for a moment. But her face instantly changes. I know she can tell I'm still shaken by Katniss's disappearance.
"Well, I'm sure some of the folks that come in here wouldn't mind helping you. For money, of course," she tells me.
"Well, if you find anyone, here's my number," I say. I grab a pen a few feet away and scribble a few numbers on a napkin. "And be sure to tell them I'll pay."
She smiles, takes the napkin, folds it, and puts it in her apron pocket. I look to my side and see the man sitting beside me not eating his soup. He's not looking at me, but something is telling me he's listening.
"How's the soup?" Greasy Sae asks me, stirring a pot of it.
"Perfect. Hits the spot. You're quite the chef. I'll tell you what, if I get the bakery up and running again, I'll bring you fresh supplies of bread, so you can make it even better," I say with a smile.
"I'll hold you to that. Am I going to have to pay?" she says jokingly. I don't joke with my answer.
"Well, I don't really want to sell the bread. I mean, I have plenty of money, and baking is a hobby, so I'd rather just give away the bread. Unless some obsessed Capitol person wants to buy a whole crateful," I say with a chuckle at the end. I speak particularly loud. It pays off, because I see a man looking at me. He wears a flannel shirt and heavy boots. If people don't have to buy food, why wouldn't they.
"You say you're looking for hired help?" he says, standing up. I put my spoon down and turn my rusty chair to him.
"Yeah, are you interested?" I ask.
"A few buddies of mine and me have some spare time, if you're paying, of course," he says.
"I am," I say. I keep my answers brief.
"How much?" he asks.
I freeze at his question. I've never hired anyone to help me work. My family and I used to sell loaves of bread at three dollars each, so surely a few dollars less than that would be a normal payment.
"A dollar an hour?" I suggest. Now every head in the place turns to me, even Greasy Sae.
The man beside me, who almost spit out his soup, sputters, "A dollar an hour?"
I nod. "Is that not normal?" I ask, confused.
"Boy, we used to work 18 hours a day for five bucks a week," he answers. I crease my eyebrows, in sympathy I guess. God, did Snow ever think the way he ran his country was effective?
"Well, then there won't be any refusal, I hope," I say. He starts to laugh a rough laugh along with a few others in the room. "Any of you interested?" I ask, looking at everyone.
At least 10 people stand up, clearing the room, and walk over to me. Their faces are all greedy, but I don't blame them.
"Alright, well, I need some wood, and any material for building a bakery. I'll pay. But I don't know where to get them," I say to the group.
"I can take care of that, for you. I worked in construction in District 2 before moving here. I'll just make a few calls," a middle-aged man says. I nod to him.
"Okay, then a week from today. I'm sure everyone can find their way to the bakery," I say. They all nod. "Thanks. And thanks for the soup," I say, directed at Greasy Sae. I lay a dollar on the counter and walk outside after putting on my coat.
I hear men talking loudly in cheerful tones when I leave. For the first time in what feels like years, I smile.
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Man, idk if I wanna write another chapter. I'm so tired. And I'm watching the Listener right now. But I want to finish this story so bad! Okay, so I decided not to turn the story in a depressed way, as I originally planned. I don't want Peeta to completely end everything. So I'm going to try to put emphasis on how Peeta has changed since Katniss has left, but I don't want anyone to think that he's completely lost. But in his mind, he has no idea how he can live without her. He's just not ready to try to answer that question. Bye guys! I'll try to write one more chapter... Thanks for reading, and I love you all!
~ Seanna
