vienna waits for you //rosetta, sam, turner fam

Lethe was a dressed-up porcelain doll at twenty four.

“We’re having a party this Saturday,” Mother had told her several days before and inwardly, Lethe had groaned for she knew that Mother, asserting her dominance in the form of longevity ( “I’m older, I know me.” “I’ve lived longer.”), would dollify her cleanly just as she always did. She’d curl Lethe’s blonde hair and crown it up on her head. She’d wind her into a tight dress with a prim bow at her back. She’d force her feet into little heels and then have her practice walking up and down the stairs in their large foyer for according to Mother, Lethe must always make a grand entrance. “You’re a Victor,” Mother gushed one night as she tugged at the laces winding up Lethe’s back, especially those near her waist, ensuring that the little evidence of her pregnancy left over was sucked back completely. “People expect the best for you. Awe them.”

And Lethe sure knew she did. Her youthful face often resembled her daughter’s, pale, smooth skin, round, pink cheeks and thin, colorless lips, set upon the body of a petite sixteen year old girl. What Lethe would give for another eight years on her body so that she at least looked her age. And so, when she appeared on the top of the stairs, with her curls bouncing on her bony shoulders, she at least made sure to have Eden there with her, clasping her little hand, so she was spared the shame of all the attention being on her. While the guests (the very best guests too, including the wealthiest families in the District and oftentimes, the mayor and her family) cooed over little Eden rather than whisper about Lethe’s physical appearance and wonder at the scars she might still have from the Games, hidden under folds her silk, this now opened Lethe up to another set of whispers: the identity of Eden’s father.

Still, while they abruptly stopped whispering behind their hands when she wandered by ( “I heard from the baker’s son that it was some boy in the Capitol. An Avox.” “No way, no, it was one of the stable hands in her father’s stable. She gave birth in the stable, hoping he’d be there.”), she’d rather they whisper about something without definitive answers. There was no doubt that Lethe’s body was invisibly scarred, burned and peeled apart by the Games even if she looked like an angel on the stairs, but they’d never know about Eric. No one did, not even her parents and even though it irked her that her Eden didn’t know either, she appreciated Eric’s public silence on his part in Eden’s conception. They could whisper and keep whispering, but they’ll never know a thing.

On the top of the stairs, a porcelain Lethe held a porcelain Eden by the hand. Both of them had been squeezed into new dresses, delicate silk things that took over both girls with dripping, swishing skirts and sheer overlays and, in Lethe’s case, a scooped out neckline that highlighted her considerable chest (which had gotten bigger since having Eden). Pearls hung at their necks and ears (Lethe had pierced Eden’s little ears herself rather than let Mother do it with a sharp stab that surely send the child wailing; Lethe accomplished the task by soothing her daughter with a lollipop and numbing her ears with ice) and even Eden had heels on, two inch ones to match Lethe’s.

Both were even more plastic and glass than usual and it set Lethe on edge, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. When she questioned Mother over what the party was for, she’d only smiled superiorly and giggled, “Just for fun!” That’s when Lethe felt the sweat on her palms. The Reaping was a week away and a few years ago, before the 60th Games, Mother had thrown her a surprise party to celebrate two years since her Reaping (since the year before, she was away on the Victory Tour getting knocked up in a bathtub). Mother had called it luck, for bringing good fortune to the family in the form of Lethe’s life which in turn granted them the about-to-be-born Eden and their beautiful home in the Victor village and all the money and food to the District. Lethe had called it the baby when she threw up all over Mother when she revealed to her the nature of the party when in reality it was the life leaving Anya’s beautiful eyes in a quick, open-jawed leap of the mutt and it was Saskia running far from her in the mosquito-filled night to meet the sky just a day later and it was Razor’s knife burying itself in her own eye and suddenly, she was staring at him cross-eyed except she could only see out of one eye and the rain mixed with her blood and dribbled salty into her mouth.

It wasn’t likely that Mother was throwing another party like that, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t up to a similarly silly antic and so, Lethe proceeded with caution down the stairs, clutching Eden tightly in her hand. The guests conversing at the bottom the stairs, just some gentlemen with their drinks, turned to her and smiled their superficial smiles and offered their arms to her when she reached the bottom. Taking an arm graciously, Lethe kept her eyes peeled for Mother as the man led her into the library. Their home in the Victor Village was complete with an open library that Mother often used for her parties, pushing the seating off to the side and hiring some local musicians to play together so couples could dance…and by couples, Lethe with a potential suitor.

The library was alive with the swishing of skirts as young women danced with young men to the mediocre music of the two violinists and the one cello player in District Five. When she entered, the accusing eyes of the socialite females turned towards her and Lethe knew that soon they’d be whispering to one another, still children in their twenties, the same girls who teased her in school for her “condition.”

“Mommy, look!” Eden was holding something up to her and the next moment, something wet was sweeping familiarly up and down her arm.


“Oh, Eden,”Lethe chided, kneeling down and taking an excited Camalia from Eden’s little palm, “I told you to leave her upstairs.” Eden pouted as Camalia escaped Lethe’s grip and scrambled up her arm to rest in her usual place on her shoulder, licking Lethe’s neck when she arrived, and Lethe was left to sigh and straighten up hastily as she saw her Mother approach.

“Lethe, darling, there you are,” Mother cast a disproving eye at Camalia, but Lethe just tightened her lips and left the lizard be and finally, Mother looked away and gestured at the boy at her arm. “This young man has been waiting for you all night.”

Jasper.

Lethe’s eyes widened and then hardened. Over his shoulder, she could see the girls with their hands over their mouths, speculating, and Lethe’s sharp gaze shifted to Jasper for they could speculate no longer if they got his hands on him. That silly letter he’d found, that stupid thing, and his attempts to help as if he understand. Despite Lethe’s bristling irritation at his pretentiousness, she felt smaller than him for he knew and he could so easily quell the ponderings of the District if he just let something slip. A little thing. And then, he could shame her for a one night stand with a now absentee father. While she was already shamed for just having a child out of wedlock, she knew her family at least hoped she’d known the boy before she let him in. But, no, Lethe lost her virginity in a bathtub, drunk, to a boy she’d just met. What a scandal.

“You’re growing more and more beautiful each day, Lethe,” she heard him say and her heart gave a throb. Eric would say that, Eric would, but then he’d disappear again, behind the candy-coated Capitol. Eric would say it truthfully. Eric had nothing to gain from loving her with the miles between them. Jasper had everything. A Victor for a girl, a better lifestyle, wealth. Eric already had all that. He didn’t need to win her over with compliments and so, with a nod, Lethe accepted and refused to return the compliment. Mother, luckily, took her silence for shyness and abruptly whisked Eden away to let them “talk.”

“May I have this dance?” Jasper asked as the sad excuse for a band drew into another slow song and Lethe stiffened. She could feel Mother’s eyes on her back as Jasper’s invitation hung in the air in the shape of an outstretched hand. If she refused, would he sell her out? Call her a whore for her sexual activity? But, by accepting, he might believe there was something there…a spark…she forced her eyes up into his handsome face and her lips parted slightly when she saw a sparkle in his wide eyes and his teeth, anxiously chewing away at his lips. There was hope. There was want. And there was Mother’s gaze boring into her body, wheedling its way into her and with a sigh, and a lick by Camalia, Lethe nodded and accepted his hand.