Blooming in the Spring

Chapter 11

The following few days pass in a blur. Mostly I am in and out of sleep, with the occasional interruption from Peeta to coax me to drink water and eat whatever I can manage to keep down. They have me on medication for the pain that makes me feel fuzzy and confused, though nothing too strong is prescribed as I am apparently at risk for addiction. Figures. 

Peeta tells me that my mother is still in 12, staying in an empty house down the road, though she doesn't come back to check on me--at least not while I'm awake. Besides, Peeta has proven to take care of me just fine on his own. In fact, he seems to welcome the distraction. He combs and rebraids my hair each morning, cooks every meal for us, and keeps me company during the short time I am awake. 

On the fifth day, Peeta is instructed to start slowing down my medication and I am feeling restless and frustrated that I can't get up and move around on my own. I've been on almost complete bedrest since the woods but now that I am more conscious, they've given me a set of fancy Capitol crutches so that I can get myself around. 

My leg and hip slow me down, as I'm thrown into blinding pain at any sudden movement, but the constant pounding in my head is really bothering me. Not only does it make me feel nauseous and disoriented but I am also constantly reminded of the first time I got a concussion in the Quell, courtesy of Johanna Mason. I remember how awful it was, trying to sort through my memories after the second time in the area--especially so without Peeta by my side. I'm not sure where I'd be without him here now, though I do long to be independent again. 

Once I am mobile again, I insist on being somewhere other than my bed. I've grown so sick of the same four walls and my nightmares have been getting especially bad stuck in bed for days. I often thrash in my sleep, which leaves me in excruciating pain upon waking. So, with the help of Peeta, I take up a new place on the couch before the fireplace downstairs. 

I can sit up for longer periods, so Peeta suggests we continue working on the plant book we began together even before the Quell. Admittedly, Peeta does most of the work and I watch his careful and steady hands as he draws the things I describe to him. It helps with sorting out my thoughts too and by the seventh day, the constant headache and ringing in my ears ceases. 

It is also on the seventh day when Peeta illustrates a primrose flower, that I get an idea. 

"Peeta?" I ask, studying the little yellow petals on the page. He's adding the finishing touches to the painting and I know he's paying special attention to this page, as he knows how much it means to me. 

"Yeah?" he says, hardly taking his eyes from his work. 

"What if we started another book?" I ask. 

He smiles and says, "What, you don't like my paintings?" 

"No," I smirk, "I mean, yes. They're beautiful. But I thought we could make a second one. Not of plants, though. Of people."

At this, he looks at me, brows lifted in curiosity. 

"Anyone in particular?" he asks, wiping the paint from his brush. 

"All of them," I say. "Anyone we can think of. Prim, Finnick, your brothers."

At the mention of his family, he averts his gaze and for a moment, I'm afraid I've upset him but he nods slowly and says, "Like a memory book."

"To honor them," I continue. "And maybe it would help us too, to sort things out." 

Because as much as I know Peeta struggles to comb through his memories, especially from the Games, I know I do as well. I've tried so hard to block everything out, to shut it away forever. But there are things I want to hold onto. Things I don't want to forget. Mostly my sister, as this idea is inspired by Peeta's drawing of the flower she was named after. But others too. The color of Finnick's eyes, his smile. Cinna's gold eyeliner. Rue's four-note song and the way she would perch on her tiptoes, like a bird ready to fly away. Even others that are painful to remember, like the faces of the past tributes that still haunt my nightmares but would be a shame to forget. They died so we could live, Peeta and me. We will be forever indebted to them and a tribute to their memory on parchment feels like the least we could do to honor them.