Chapter Four
"You're on your pill, aren't you?" he asked through a mouthful of bread.
His eyes fell on the newspaper on the kitchen island. A photo taken on the night of their wedding feast stared back at him. In it, Haymitch was leaning forward slightly in his seat whispering something to Effie whose brows were creased, two fingers holding her fork up in the air gingerly as though she was about to take a bite of food when Haymitch had interrupted her.
He frowned at the article, not because he couldn't remember what it was he had said that night but because he couldn't hide his disgust. The revulsion wrapped itself like a tendril around him and his hatred for the media threatened to bubble onto the surface. Even now, after the Games, they still managed to irk him. They may not want an interview from the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell but had wanted something much worse. They wanted to drive a point home across to everyone – to show that nobody, not even victors or rebel leaders were exempted from the law – which made Haymitch's irritation even worse. It was pure bad luck, in his opinion, that Effie and himself were among the first two well-known figures in Panem to get married under the law a month after it was passed and the Government had seized the opportunity to publicize it.
"Yes," she confirmed. "Please don't talk when your mouth is full. It upsets my digestion."
He downed his coffee, satisfied with Effie's answer. He had woken up with an epiphany and was in a good mood; as good a mood as Haymitch Abernathy could have after seeing the papers that morning.
"Trink – Effie," he began. "You keep on taking those birth control pills and we can hold out till the law dissolves. We'll never have to deal with having children."
He looked proud of himself and waited for Effie to share his enthusiasm. She didn't. Effie munched carefully on her breakfast, wearing a frown on her face, the same one that was on the paper he just read. Haymitch knew that look – she was thinking and whatever he had told her, she most likely thought it was stupid.
The idle smile on his face vanished.
"What?" he demanded. "Spit it out."
"I don't think it would be that easy. I've read the law and everything else related to it. The pill is illegal, Haymitch, or any other sort of birth control. I'm not supposed be on it. It would defeat the purpose of – "
"Well, I'm not having you pregnant, Effie!"
"Yes, I got that loud and clear," she huffed, rolling her eyes at him. "The legislation is not stupid. If they take a blood test, they'll know I'm on birth control and we'll get in trouble. And wait out till the law dissolves? When will that be, Haymitch? It could be years from now or worst, it will never ever be dissolved."
He rubbed his aching temple. She was right, of course. He had read through the statute and was fully aware that the law demanded couples at least to have two children to replace each parent. He couldn't even claim that one of them was infertile because if they were, they wouldn't even be subjected to the law to begin with.
Haymitch waved his hand in annoyance. "Stay on the pill for now. We don't need a kid so soon."
She nodded absent-mindedly. Her thoughts went to Annie Odair. She was lucky. Extremely lucky to already have young Finnick and therefore not required to get married. It was encouraged that she find a husband but at least it was not mandatory for Annie.
"Kind of makes you wish you have an illegitimate child somewhere, don't you?" she asked softly, a smile playing on her lips. "There's nothing on the paper that says an illegitimate child could not be taken in because technically the child will be yours, blood and all. That's a loop hole they have yet to discover and rectify."
He laughed; a genuine, deep belly laugh.
"Never thought of that. But yes, you're right about the loophole. Supposed I should start making enquiries to those few women I have slept with while drunk", he teased, a smirk gracing his face, "except, I don't remember who they are."
"I'm surprised there's any at all considering last night," she said.
Her voice was light and her eyes twinkled with amusement, with the ease of someone who was used to the sort of banter they've just had. He knew Effie was joking, that she did not hold what happened last night over his head but that did nothing to stop the glare he gave her.
"Won't happen again," Haymitch said over his shoulder, determined to have the last words as he walked out of the kitchen. "Next time I'll make sure you finish first and that you'll scream so loud you wish…"
He let the words hang in the air, letting her ponder the rest of it.
Did I just promise her a next time? No!, he shook his head slightly, I don't want to sleep with her.
XxX
Being married did little to change Haymitch. He never quite assimilated his role as a husband into his life. He was so used to being alone that it was difficult to take Effie into account. He left the house without telling her where he was going, he bought dinner and totally forgot about her amongst the many things he did that irritated her. Effie in turn, learnt to be independent and not to rely on him on anything. It wouldn't be at all wrong to say that he was married in name only.
Haymitch did not change his ways. He was still a drunk, sarcastic and grumpy on most days. He hardly saw Effie except in the morning, if he woke up early enough which was in itself a miracle.
After the Rebellion, his job was to make sure Katniss was okay. He kept an eye out on his kids but both Peeta and Katniss had found each other, and they were happy together. Sure, he could sometimes hear Katniss screaming in the dead of the night for her sister; from the nightmare that still plagued her but Peeta was there which left Haymitch with no role to play. Haymitch slowly melted into the background and let them live their life.
He drank constantly, he waited for shipments of liquor from the Capitol and he had taken to spending his time at the bar in the town of District Twelve to get away from Effie. He would only return home late into the night when he knew Effie would be asleep. It was a good plan to keep their interaction to the bare minimum.
Effie had found a job on the sideline helping District Twelve with its medicine production for Panem to occupy her time. She had a job at the Capitol as an officer of the Court. From what little he knew, it was a desk-bound job with plenty of paperwork and keeping the judges on schedule, something she was definitely good at. After their marriage, Effie kept her job with a considerably lighter work load since it would be impossible to plan the judges' schedule while working from home in District Twelve. Each morning, she would leave early to the medicine factory. Haymitch had no idea what she does there and he wasn't the least bit interested to know.
If Haymitch was an abysmal husband, Effie tried to be a wife. She was a terrible cook but she would wake up early enough to prepare breakfast so that Haymitch would have something to eat by the time he roused from his stupor and he could not fault her for trying. Peeta had once remarked that Haymitch had filled out a little ever since he got married.
She whipped the house into shape within weeks of her moving in. Effie cleared out the refrigerator and replaced the bad stuffs with edible food. His windows were wiped clean off the grime, dirt and dust from the bombing and the floor shone with whatever cleaning agent she had used. Effie changed the dusty drapes to something light and earthly in colour. She spread a rug at their living room before moving the coffee table on it. For the first time in years, Haymitch had clean bed sheets every week and his house suddenly seemed much larger now that Effie had thrown away years' worth of knick knacks. Lights stream through the window and the air smelt fresh in his house. Begrudgingly, Haymitch admitted quietly to himself that his house felt more like a home now.
Sometimes when he was really drunk out of his mind and returned home from the bar late at night, he nearly thought he was in the wrong house. He never had flowers on the dining table before but there was a vase of lilies on it. Her lotions and shower creams lined up in a neat row in his bathroom next to his shaving cream. She was slowly taking over the house and he allowed it but he drew the line when she tried to water down his alcohol. He had lost his temper and the fight had been ugly.
"You do whatever you want but you leave my alcohol alone. I am not your fucking pet and if you attempt to change me, I will –"
The threat hung in the air as they stared down at each other.
"You're poisoning yourself and I'm just trying to help you. You're my husband! I can't just –"
He threw the clear bottle of vodka in his hand at the wall beside where she was standing and it shattered at her feet. She jumped, her hand clutching her chest, eyes wide in shock. Effie darted past him, a line of blood trickling down her shin where a sharp piece of glass had cut her.
Haymitch swept the shards and dumped them into a bin with a sigh, his vision blurry and he felt like a million drumbeats were playing simultaneously in his head. Effie was asleep on her side of the bed with her back to him, clutching a pillow by the time he climbed into bed an hour later. He pulled the covers back and saw the bandage wrapped around her leg from the cut earlier. He touched it gingerly, a twinge of regret in his heart. Haymitch leaned forward and kissed her temple. She didn't notice, too tired from having cried herself to sleep. Effie never let him see her cry but he knew because the pillow would be soaked with her tears.
The days went on the same, she threw herself into work and he drowned himself in alcohol. She brought home pay checks while he contributed to the finances from the monthly payout he still received from being a victor.
"I think you show your geese more attention than you showed Effie," Katniss remarked one day as she stood to the side watching him fix the geese pen.
Katniss and Effie had gotten closer since she moved to Twelve. With a husband that hardly communicated with her, Effie had form a bond with Katniss and made several friends at the factory.
Truthfully, Haymitch felt a bit lost now that Katniss and Peeta no longer needed him as much. His entire life had been about hating the Capitol, hating Snow and fighting in the Rebellion and now that it was all over, he felt aimless.
No, not really. I could hate this law.
What he never realized was that his anger at the law, the resulting hatred at being forced to married had inadvertently carried on to Effie who was a victim of this marriage as much as he was. But his anger had blinded him too much to make him see that.
XxX
The television was on when he walked in that night. Effie was lying on the sofa, a blanket draped over her as she watched the late night show. It was one of Plutarch's productions, a talk show of some sort.
Haymitch staggered on the sofa, unsteady on his feet, reeking strongly of alcohol.
"From the bar?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the screen.
He grunted. "Why are you still up?"
"Can't sleep," Effie answered. For a long while, the only sound came from the host of the show asking a series of question to the actor he had invited to studio. He had nearly fallen asleep when Effie spoke. "Haymitch, there are reports of women committing suicide."
He blinked blearily. "What women?"
"Women who got into a marriage because of the law," she sat up and handed him a copy of that day's newspaper. "It's been 4 months since the law was passed and there are already 8 reports of suicide. There could be more out there, unreported , who knows."
"God, Eff," he pressed his palms on his eyes. "That's depressing stuff to tell me at night."
"Oh, well, I'm sorry, if your drunken mind could not handle the harsh reality out there," she snapped at him. "Good news for tonight: Katniss is pregnant and she had been waiting to tell you but you were always either passed out drunk or at the bar."
XxX
He couldn't remember how he got into bed that night after Effie had stormed off and he staggered to the phone to call Katniss, only to remember that it was in the middle of the night. When he woke up, the lights were streaming from the window so brightly he feared he might go blind.
Effie was out at the front yard trying her hand at gardening. He moved around the kitchen looking for his breakfast, his mouth dry and head throbbing painfully. Haymitch pushed open the window and shouted at her from the distance.
"Eff, where's my breakfast?"
He had woken up to breakfast duly served every day for three months and had come to expect it.
"Try looking for it with your eyes wide open. Maybe you'll find it," she answered, not even looking up as she dug the earth with her spade.
He found his toasts eventually and munched on it as he moved to take the phone off its cradle. After three rings, Plutarch answered.
"How's the missus, my friend?" Haymitch asked, munching loudly.
Plutarch's own wedding ceremony was held two weeks after Haymitch's. His wedding was a big event, with a camera crew on scene giving a live feed to those who had not been invited due to space constraint. Plutarch had fast gained popularity since the Rebellion and his post as a secretary of communications bolstered his standing with the public – broadcasting TV shows to the masses while making sure that news and media were not censored as tightly as it was during Snow's reign. People love him simply because he was as charismatic as Peeta and the citizens appreciated being kept in the loop.
He heard faint voices of people talking in the background before a door closed and the voices disappeared. Plutarch must have moved to a different room.
"She's doing well. And how is Effie?"
He peered out of the window, looking at Effie who was on her knees trying to plant some seeds.
"She's doing this crazy stuff, moving from one hobby to another, looking for something she's comfortable with, I think? She tried knitting last week, gave that up somehow. She's gardening as we speak."
"Effie Trinket, gardening? You've changed her, Mitch. I never thought Effie would voluntarily get dirt under her nails," Plutarch laughed.
Haymitch kept an eye out for her, worried that she might walk in while he was on the phone and what would follow would be a string of questions he didn't feel like answering at the moment.
"Listen, Plutarch, the papers yesterday - those suicides? – is this what Panem has ended up being? We got to do something," he said urgently.
"Do what? What exactly do you have in mind, Haymitch?"
"We took down a nasty son of a bitch before, didn't we? Taking down a law would be easier," Haymitch said, pacing the living room as he talked on the phone. "This is the kind of things you flourish at. Get some statistic - how many people are happy with their marriage, how this law is not actually fulfilling its objective - those kinds of stuff and we can overturn it."
"We can't just jump into this one, Haymitch. It needs to be planned out and we need support –"
"We'll get support," Haymitch asserted.
Plutarch sighed. "This is personal, isn't it Haymitch? You want to get rid of Effie."
Haymitch kept quiet because it was not something he could deny. "I want my life, Plutarch. And she should have her life, too. She's lost here in Twelve. What the fuck is Effie Trinket doing gardening for?"
"Why couldn't you have a life with her? Did you even try?"
He scoffed. "Come on now, Plutarch. You're telling me you're okay with being married to Fulvia?"
"So what if I am? I think everyone wants to be loved and she cares about me. That's good enough for me.
Haymitch snorted, not expecting to hear such sentiment coming from Plutarch. He nearly hung up the phone in disgust when Plutarch said, "But you're right; you have a point with the suicide. I'll think about this and I'll call you again."
"Haymitch, I want to grow tomatoes," Effie announced the moment she walked in. "Would you please get me tomato seeds from town tomorrow? Do you think we have enough space to grow an apple tree?"
He looked out the window again, and took in the vast space in front of his house with the red-bricked walkway leading out to the front gates. Unless Effie was blind, which he was starting to believe she was, there are plenty of space for at least one apple tree.
Yes, he concluded, Effie Trinket does not belong in District Twelve.
A slightly longer chapter but I had to set a bit of background for the upcoming chapters. Haymitch is on a mission ba dam tss.
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