One-Shot: Purdy
She was known as Hazelle Purdy then.
The surname is said to have derived from an accented pronunciation of the word "pretty," dating back to the days of the old American South, when the land that is now Panem was a democratic republic. Haymitch has read books on how many of the people who spoke in this way are their ancestors, here in District 12, the land that is still sometimes referred to as Appalachia.
From an objective standpoint, there is no doubt that Hazelle was – and is – a "purdy" lady. But beauty is not found without alone. It is found within.
And as far as accounting for his youth is concerned, Haymitch is well aware that, in those days, Hazelle Purdy was anything but "purdy" – or, pretty, as the case may be.
When they were in school, he recalls how she used to bully him. Even sometimes have her lackeys restrain him as she taunted him, pretended to appraise him. Mock him for going with Digger Hardy, his girl.
Being a clever boy, Haymitch was wily enough – and perhaps a touch arrogant enough – to suppose that Hazelle tormented him out of jealousy. A phrase from one his old Shakespeare texts, bequeathed to him by his daddy, came to mind: Methinks she doth protest too much. He considered the possibility that Hazelle was self-loathing enough of herself, jealous enough (possibly of Digger) that she tormented him to compensate for other feelings, in the way that young boys will occasionally yank on the braids of a girl they secretly like.
A stretch of a rationalization at best, but even all these years later, he still can't think of a more plausible reason.
When he was 16, the arena came for him and three other condemned souls from the coalfields, and he forgot all about Hazelle Purdy at that point. Even after he came home, he forgot about her – he was permitted to drop out of school, as is a Victor's prerogative. Hazelle graduated, as far as he knew, then got engaged and Toasted the bread with a man – a Seam miner.
Haymitch only knows Clay Hawthorne as an acquaintance, and a loose one at that. It doesn't ruffle him in the slightest when he is not invited to the wedding ceremony. Clay can have the bitch, if he wants her, and more the fool him.
Several years later, coming up on the Fifty-Sixth, maybe – Big Con Murphy's year – he is surprised while walking back from Danny Mellark's Bakery to find the new Mrs. Hazelle Hawthorne out back of her homestead, putting clothes on the line and with a stomach out to her feet.
Haymitch decides to consider it a cosmic victory that, for the next dozen or so years after that, he encounters a fat, waddling and somewhat less 'purdy' Hazelle as more common a sight than not.
He may be a Victor for going on a quarter-century now. He may technically not have a stake in this quarrel – if it can be even called a quarrel – but Haymitch still has Seam blood. His roots dictate to always pay back a debt that is owed.
A more literal person would conclude that the best recompense would be to let Hazelle and her brood of young'ins freeze and starve in this harsh winter between getting two of his kids home and the run-up to the next Quarter Quell. That would be paying back what is owed, in kind for what this lady did to him in their youth. However, Haymitch Abernathy may be a Victor, but he's not hard-hearted. He's not vengeful. He's not… Capitol. And besides, Sweetheart has asked this of him as a favor. The tall one, the lad she hangs around with, Hazelle's oldest boy, he's going to get himself into trouble if his family starves for much longer. Thread has discontinued Cray's practice of letting the district people clean officer's uniforms and boots. That was how Hazelle earned most of her money, after her husband died in that mine collapse: as a laundress.
Plus, he's pretty sure Peeta isn't going to stand for picking up after him for much longer. The Boy has a heart of gold and more patience than Job (an expression Mama once taught him and Lacklen), but either can only go so far.
He should have anticipated that the kids would tag team him. It was an ambush executed with such precision, no Career could have accomplished it and come out the other side of melee alive.
For some reason, Haymitch actually finds himself caring what Hazelle thinks as she strides through his manse, inspecting the place. She at one point declares his dishes 'filthy.'
Peeta tries to couch it in terms of appearing presentable, for when Snow and the Capitol entourage arrive here to film propos for the lead up to the Quell. Being a plainspoken woman of the Seam, Hazelle gets to the point faster: she needs a job. 1. No one's hiring her for washing (he knew that), 2. the mines are closed (he figures on this point, she is secretly pleased, as it means her eldest boy won't be going down there, except that), 3. The snowdrifts are such that Gale can't get them food and 4. She has four mouths to feed, including him. Well, maybe now five, including Haymitch.
Hazelle claims she can make this place look like a human being lives here, and Haymitch is reminded of what a foul tongue lies behind that "purdy" little mouth. Though to her credit, she assures him her rates are reasonable. The kids beg and plead with him, Katniss actually making the argument that Peeta should be making about how they (really he) are sick of needing to go on an archaeological dig through trash just to excavate him out.
Mostly to get the kids to shut up, he asks for the washerwoman to name her price.
Hazelle nods, a hard set to her jaw. "I think business is better discussed between the two of us. Katniss: do you mind?"
Haymitch marvels at how Katniss obeys her the way she might show deference to a favored aunt, or to her own mother – that is, if Ruth Everdeen had been the engaged parent type, in which case that household might have seen more joy other than from an angelic thirteen-year-old girl now going through a growth spurt.
Once he and Hazelle are alone, he attempts to shut down the conversation before it can even begin. "I'll pay you whatever you need."
She doesn't say anything, and when Haymitch turns, she's biting her lip nervously. "What is it?"
"Before we talk business," she says, "I have to apologize to you. I was unkind to you when we were kids."
He thinks of her standing there on the road, her lackeys holding him down while she ridiculed him for putting on airs, pretending to be quality. "It was a long time ago," he hedges.
"I'm still sorry, though." She smiles softly, almost ruefully. He decides he likes her smile, when it isn't cruel, for that's the smile that he remembers. "I ended up with a houseful of smart kids, and I wish sometimes they were doing all that fancy stuff. I think it'd be neat if they were. I think I'd brag about it. Gale's sharp as a tack, but he's never had time to use his brain for school things. He gets mad like I used to. I was hoping maybe Rory would, or Vick, or Posy. But they want to be just like Gale. And I just wish sometimes that..." She shrugs. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I'm real sorry."
"It was a long time ago," he says again. Because it was. He doesn't exactly forgive her, and he knows she's angling for a job, but it's all right. It's not like her taunts – whether they came from a misappropriated place of attraction or not - really did him any harm. "Don't worry about it. What are your reasonable rates?"
So that is how Haymitch comes to have one of his schoolyard bullies as his housekeeper – the only one he's had in twenty-five years, outside of Effie Trinket's sweeps through the place once in a blue moon.
He shows her how to use the Capitol-imported washer and dryer, and laughs at how she clearly thinks it a marvel. Even when washing clothes, Seamers are used to – indeed, almost proud of – performing tasks in the hands-on way. The way of the land.
Her tongue is still as sharp as ever, perhaps sharper than Effie's, though Trinket is more versed in the art of the put-down. His escort just does it with more class, and all the more devastating it is to him.
Hazelle just gives him shit about living like a slob without beating around the bush. It takes her weeks just to dig out from under his refrigerator. Before long, her tssks and scoffs of "Expired. Expired. Expired," as she goes through the labels take on the regularity of a chant, an undercurrent of white noise. Haymitch feels rightly sheepish about letting food go bad when people are starving in the Seam and – according to intelligence gathered from Peeta – even going hungry in Town, so he gives Hazelle carte blanche of whatever hasn't spoiled enough that it can still be used. To give to the needy. If he can give her credit where credit is due for admitting where she has gone wrong, then the least he can do is cop to the same.
Hazelle is a disciplined taskmaster, and woe to the three little ones who trample under her and Gale's feet, but even Haymitch can see this is too much for one person. Not wanting her to think him a total lay-about, he moves to help her wherever he can. The frugal Seam woman in his housekeeper declares that where money can be saved in refurbishing, it should be, so they clean the disgusting carpet spotless of stains in lieu of simply ordering a new one from the Capitol. With the whispers of uprisings and resulting supply chain issues, Haymitch doubts a new carpet would arrive promptly anyway.
She cooks for him too – every night, before she leaves to see to her young'ins – and he has to admire her short-order culinary skills. On the day they finish the carpets, he asks her to join him for a spell after serving up his meal. After all, she cooked it; she should partake in it as well. To sweeten the deal, he even offers to double the rate for her babysitter, who watches the kids after school – some girl named Delly (from what he understands, that arrangement had been Peeta's doing).
Hazelle just looks amused at his offer. She even smiles – a fairly rare occurrence.
"Am I being asked on a date, Haymitch?"
It is the last thing on his mind, but he shrugs it off, flippantly. "Why not?"
"No." She shakes her head, even looking a little leery. "I don't know that it's a good idea. I haven't been on a date since my husband died."
"I got you beat. Last date I went on was before the Fifty-Third Games. Unless you count a few gropes in Capitol bars."
"I don't. Weren't you dating some Capitol actress for a while?"
"That was the Fifty-First," he corrects her. "I went on a couple of dates with Violet Breen after that. She was the Fifty-Third."
Hazelle frowns. "Haymitch, do you ever just say how old you were, instead of which Games something happened before?"
"That would require math. Figuring out how many Games after mine, adding it to sixteen… math was never my best subject."
She doesn't address this. Instead she says, "Wasn't there someone here, before your Games?" She even smiles a little, almost in a teasing way, yet it doesn't hold any of the malice from their childhood. "I remember that you had a steady girl."
Haymitch winces. "Digger Hardy. She… she passed."
"Oh." Hazelle puts her hand to her forehead. "That's right. I'm sorry. She was a nice girl. I hadn't thought about her… about… well, what happened."
"I haven't thought about her either," he lies.
"Until you started being responsible for a girl who likes to slip the fence?"
He doesn't want to get into everything that made him start thinking about Digger again, in large part because it's tied up with the pressure Katniss is under, which he knows is not something to which Hazelle is indifferent. She barely acknowledges Peeta when he comes with bread, and routinely talks about Gale and Katniss in the future, and how much she's looking forward to Katniss being in her family. She re-hung up the painting in the living room, but lost much of her enthusiasm for it when he told her Peeta had made it. Her opinions on where Katniss belongs are clear and unchanging, and any talk about what really started his old girlfriend haunting his nightmares is likely to upset her.
In truth, Haymitch hasn't even thought about Katniss and her proclivity to be outside the fence, but it's as good an excuse as any. He nods, then tells Hazelle, "Let's forget the date thing. That was a bad idea. I'm your boss, anyway. Effie would say it's not proper. Just stay for dinner. Have some decent food and get some rest before you're back to chasing three kids around."
She agrees to this, and they have a perfectly pleasant conversation, talking about life on the Seam when they were kids. She still sees a lot of the people they knew, though she realizes Haymitch doesn't remember them as fondly as she does. They discuss a little bit about the situation in Town (Thread has been using the stocks very liberally) and then about Lucretia Beckett, their old Peacekeeper and the immediate predecessor to Cray. With Thread's definition of law and order, Beckett has been on the brain more and more lately. Hazelle lost her younger brother to the gallows when Beckett accused him of trying to have his way with her; Haymitch realizes he has forgotten it as thoroughly as Hazelle had forgotten what happened to Digger. Housekeeper and Victor both agree that Beckett likely retaliated when he refused to give her a "private apology."
They talk about Lacklen, Haymitch's little brother and finally about Digger. Hazelle seems to have forgotten that she gave Digger grief about going around with Haymitch; he doesn't remind her. Better that she remembers her as a nice girl with a loud laugh. They have a glass of wine (she says she hasn't had any for years, not since at least her Toasting) and he sees that her face is flushed, before he realizes they've maybe both been laughing a little more than they're used to.
No one ages decently in the Seam – it's too hard a life – and yet despite birthing four kids in... twelve, thirteen years (he really was never the best at math), Haymitch has to concede she has kept her body toned and lean, and her face is actually quite lovely, insomuch as it at least appears less weathered than most Seam widows. On the whole, Hazelle looks her age – which also happens to be his age – and she wears it well.
He also notices how long, strong and svelte her legs are.
He sees her eyes on him as well.
She notices at the same time, and tells him in a soft voice that it's time for her to go home.
She's all business when she comes back the next day to scrub his kitchen, and any other talk is forgotten. It's probably just as well.
Still, Haymitch sort of enjoys having her in the house, walking around barefoot and humming to herself while she cooks.
Thread's distribution of law and order gets steadily worse.
Haymitch puts himself to more use than he has in awhile and helps Hazelle distribute all his surplus, expired food to the sick and hungry. He even spells the Delly Cartwright girl and babysits the kids when Hazelle is busy. Gale, the first of now many who have seen the end of the lash, is still recovering from being stripped before the whipping post, and takes in the drunk Victor hanging about their house silently. Haymitch knows the hotheaded lad doesn't like him, and that suits him just fine. It isn't like he's his father or anything.
Things really get urgent when Hazelle herself is thrown into the stocks for some drummed-up offense that is never specified, though Haymitch suspects it has something to do with the distribution of the food, and how it must go against Capitol philanthropy laws. Gale is ready to do something desperate, and Haymitch has to redirect him in the way that a dullard has to be redirected, reminding him that he, Gale, is the man of the house and there are three little ones need looking after. It doesn't help that Rory (at least he thinks it's Rory; he can never tell him and the other brother, Vick, apart) starts aping his brother, making all kinds of threats against the Peacekeepers. Haymitch walks him and the children to school and tells him as gently as he can to shut up. As it is, Hazelle is held in the stocks for just over twenty-four hours.
She's back to working by the time he gets home from collecting the younger Hawthornes and Primrose Everdeen from school. Since the stocks, she's been a little stiff. Haymitch tells her she should see Ruth for something. Hazelle tells him she's not going to waste Ruth's time and supplies on a little cramp in her legs. He offers to massage it out. She rolls her eyes at him and what she must figure are his gentlemanly manners.
The next morning, Haymitch wakes up only to find Hazelle on the kitchen floor, grabbing her leg and crying as quietly as she can. He gives her a glass of white liquor over her objections and massages her muscle until the spasm passes.
She looks down, ashamed. "I'm usually not so weak," she says. "I tried to walk through it."
"It's not your fault."
"Don't tell my kids how bad it is. Or yours." She nods in the direction of Katniss's house.
"I won't."
"Gale almost went off the deep end as it was. I don't think he'll survive another whipping. Or worse."
"He's not crazy," he tells her. "He knows you and the kids need him."
"He's so angry. I'm more scared for him than me."
There's no proper answer for this, beyond turning her around and giving her a hug. She sits with him like this on the kitchen floor for a long time. Haymitch knows he isn't in love with her – in fact, he's quite sure of it - but it still feels so good to hold someone like this, to feel the heat of her body, the softness of her breast under his hand.
He's well aware that if he started something right then and there, she'd let it happen. He suspects that she's thinking about starting something even if he doesn't; he can feel it in the tentative flutter of her fingers in his hair. But in the end, they just hold on to each other.
She finally decides to get up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Haymitch helps her to her feet, and she gets back to work on the kitchen cupboards. He goes for a walk.
She is waiting for him when he returns. They polish off the last of the white liquor together, and she stays a while.
One of them starts something. He's pretty sure it's her. The inside joke of the Seam for years has been that all Hazelle Hawthorne had to do to get pregnant by her husband was to simply look at him. The misogynistic-adjacent undertones of this ribbing compel Haymitch to try and re-think who jumped the bones of whom, but Hazelle is now kissing him again and slipping her tongue past his lips and all the blood rushes from his head to his... well, other head. Addled as he is, this joke might be what lets Haymitch keep his wits about him long enough to roll a condom onto his cock even as Hazelle is pumping it, grooming him for her. His trousers are down by his ankles. Her bodice is wrenched loose from her cocoa breasts, already glistening with sweat and sparkling in the dim light.
Hazelle lures him onto the sofa, and there, spreading her legs for him so that her ass is bare, her skirts shoved up over her hips, he mounts her and mates with her. Taking her fiercely from behind, they play the Beast with Two Backs. Somewhere along the line, the tables turn and suddenly it is she who is straddling him, riding him, smothering his lips with her tits and allowing him to lather her nipples with his tongue.
He calls her Digger at one point (and possibly Effie at another, though he might be misremembering). She calls him Clay, referring to her late husband. Loneliness justifies their coming together more than anything else, even more than simply having too much to drink. Haymitch finishes them both off by pounding her pussy into the couch cushions, jerking inside of her while Hazelle sways and moans beneath him. He grunts at her labored breathing in his ear.
"Huhhhh... Uhhhhh... Uggh! Errrrr! Ahhhhh... Ohhhhh!"
It's just a physical thing. That's all right sometimes, he supposes, though once they've both cum, he feels a little guilty about it. They just give each other an awkward goodbye after, and from then on, Hazelle makes an effort to do her work while Haymitch is either asleep or out and about.
They don't speak of it.
The Quarter Quell is announced. With how mercilessly Peeta throws them all into training, Haymitch is starting to prefer fucking his housekeeper as a better means to work off the stress. Even so, despite the temptation, he and Hazelle don't make love again. It goes by unspoken agreement that what they did was a mistake.
All across Panem, storm clouds loom.
During all of this, Hazelle keeps Haymitch's house pin neat, and takes it upon herself to put fresh wildflowers in all the vases. She cooks every damned thing in the world that he likes, if she can get a hold of it. They don't sleep together again, but she is kind to him, and one morning, when she comes in very early and accidentally wakes him up from a nightmare (all Haymitch can remember is holding Katniss and Peeta while they burned in his arms), she takes his knife away from him gingerly, then crawls into bed and holds him until the horror goes away.
That morning, Haymitch takes her for a walk around the village green and warns her that something is coming, as well as he can, if not as plainly. He can't be as explicit with her, it's too dangerous and anyone could be listening, but he tells her to be ready, and to have an escape route. She seems frightened by this knowledge, but holds his hands tightly and promises to do what she can.
She kisses him goodbye.
The next day, Haymitch receives notice that he is not a licensed employer in District Twelve - and that even if he was, he has nonetheless abused his position. Hazelle is unceremoniously sent home by Peacekeepers pretending to be solicitous of her welfare.
Three days later, the Reaping is held. Effie catches Haymitch's name. Before he can blink, much less find a friendly face in the crowd, the Boy volunteers for him.