Chapter Six
"Mrs. Abernathy!" a gravelly voice called out for her.
Even after three months of being married to her, he hadn't really thought of Effie as a 'Mrs. Abernathy' and hearing someone call Effie by that name still gave him pause. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.
It was Greasy Sae, standing at the entrance to her small eatery with an apron tied to her waist and a ladle in her hand as she beckoned Effie and him over.
"Come sit down. Have some of my soup, yes? You're from the factory?" she asked, showing them to a seat at the corner of the restaurant. "I heard the train from the Capitol came today. Busy day for you, I expect, exporting all those medicines out. And you, boy, don't just stand there, pull the chair out for the girl!"
"Bossy," he muttered under his breath.
Haymitch ordered clam chowder and when Effie asked for vegetable soup, it was promptly shot down with a "you need meat, girl! You're as thin as a stick - that body is not good for carrying a baby. I'll get you my famous meatball soup!"
The word 'baby' seemed to have set off a coughing fit as Haymitch sputtered and sprayed the water he had taken a sip off. Effie looked at him disdainfully.
"Something wrong, Haymitch?" Effie asked with her nose turned up at him.
"No," he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing at all. Except with hips as narrow as yours, giving birth would be terrible. I wouldn't advise it. Besides, you're not exactly mother material, are you?"
"Since when did you become such an expert at birth and pregnancy?" she rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "I know you don't want them. You don't have to tell me my hips are narrow or insult me. Stop being so condescending. Can we just have a peaceful dinner? For once?"
Over dinner of soup and chicken wraps which they split in half between them because Effie could never finish her food, Haymitch pulled out the notes from his inner pocket. He straightened it out and allowed Effie a moment to skim through it.
"What are these? What are you doing?"
He explained what he had in mind to her, laying out his argument logically.
"It's something you said that night – those women committing suicide? – and it made me think. What if we can prove that there's more harm than good coming out of this travesty of a law? See, right here," he pointed, "a woman was hospitalized because of an abortion gone wrong. Tried to do it herself since clinics and hospitals are no longer legalized to carry out abortions."
"This woman was married under the law?" Effie inquired.
"Yes – married June 14 – two weeks after the law was passed."
"Two weeks before us," Effie noted.
She took her time carefully reading through his messy scribblings. "Terrible handwriting," she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly.
"Not only that," Haymitch went on, ignoring her comment on his penmanship. "If you look at this note I made – on the paper it was printed over a small area so it was easily overlooked – there are a handful of citizens who outright refused to go through with this barbarism and chose the life over the borders. That's not helping the population at all."
"Really? They left Panem? They left everything behind?" Effie asked in disbelief. "The law is barbaric – a direct violation to our basic human rights. We have the right to choose how we live and who we marry!"
"Look at you, look at all that righteous anger. Not so surprising, I supposed, especially from someone who is used to all those rights you have just passionately talk about it. Some of us hadn't been so lucky," Haymitch mocked, "we have longed gave our rights to live to the Capitol years ago for their sheer entertainment."
"Haymitch…" she tried to placate him. "I know the anger will never completely leave you but after the war, everyone had their rights - we thought we had it - and now it's being taken away again. That was all I meant."
He waved his hand carelessly, gesturing for her to continue reading his notes.
Finally, after she had looked through each pages, Effie looked up, "you're not doing this on your own. Who did you manage to rope in?"
"Plutarch," he replied, dipping his bread into the soup. "Peeta and Katniss."
"You… You spoke to all of them first and told me last?" her voice wavered slightly.
"What does it matter?" he frowned.
"Nothing. I just thought… since we're married you would have… I'm your wife, it would be nice to know these kind of things before you –"
"You won't be for long," he shrugged, unconcerned; his voice was laced with the unmistakable and familiar confidence he had shown during his Quell interview. There was no doubt that Haymitch was certain his plan would work, that the law would be gone in no time.
Effie stared at him with a stupefied expression on her face; hurt and wounded by his indifference.
"You're asking for my help then?" she steeled her voice clearly refusing to let him get to her.
"Yeah, you in on this?"
"I wouldn't miss it," she said venomously. Her thoughts had turned dark and if he couldn't wait to get rid of her, she couldn't imagine living with the likes of him any longer.
XxX
Haymitch focused his attention on the cause at hand. He spent his time at the library gathering whatever information he could get his hands on and waiting by the facsimile machine for documents that Plutarch would sent over.
Working with Effie reminded him of the time they worked together to bring Snow down. Effie had excelled in intelligence gathering. All those years spent making acquaintances and expanding her connections were not in vain as she peeled her eyes and ears open for anything interesting or valuable for the rebels. The knowledge she acquired, she gave it to Haymitch.
Once, she even held vital information detailing President Snow's schedule. There were talks about an assassination – planting an explosive device at the place the tyrant would be but the risk was far greater that what it was worth. Since then, Haymitch held a grudging respect for her knowing full well the length she would go to take down the man who killed her sister and the danger she could be in if she was discovered.
Effie had told him about her sister that one time when Haymitch confronted her one cold chilly night as the train stopped to refuel at District Seven.
"Why are you doing this? What's in it for you, Trinket?"
"I told you I have my reasons," she said brusquely, brushing passed him to get back to the train.
His hand curled around her upper arm and pulled her back, sneering down at her. "What reasons? They didn't give you a promotion to a better district, so now you're out to bring down your own city?"
She pulled her hand free, furious and insulted. "Not everything is about the Games. I'm not here for the glory or the fame or to meet famous Victors like you. I'm here for one reason and one reason alone."
"You didn't become an escort to meet me?" his hand clutching his chest, "I'm wounded, Trinket."
"Move aside, Haymitch, let me back on the train," she said tiredly.
"No, tell me now. Why should I trust you? How would I know that you're not helping us now to learn what we're up to and when the time comes, you won't just turn around and stab us in the back?"
He stared at her unblinkingly, silently challenging her to get past him. Effie returned his stare, neither of them blinking, each waiting for the other to back down first. In the end, she did. She glanced around warily, and hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arm to ward off the cold.
"I used to have a sister, two years older than me. When she turned 18, she joined the Games and became a stylist for District Four. It was her dream and she was happy, so happy. I wanted to be like her. I couldn't wait to be 18 so I could join her. Be an escort or work with Caesar Flickerman at his studio. Then she changed. She kept to herself; she wouldn't talk to me or to anyone. She became scared and afraid, and I don't know why. One day, I found her in her bed, cold and lifeless with blood pouring out of her wrist."
Haymitch's throat had gone dry. He was not expecting such a tale of tragedy. He had never once considered that Effie would even understand the meaning of the word; cloaked in her life of parties and a riot of colours, a life of wealth and luxuries. He had to admit that when he had asked for the truth, he thought Effie would confess that she had been helping them because she did not want to be on the losing side, that her reasons were purely selfish.
"What happened?" he heard himself asked.
"I had to clean her room after she was gone and my sister had a safe. I was the only one who knew the combination. There was note for me. Her last words to me, written in her own blood – "It's not what you think it is, Effie. Don't join". I joined the Games despite her warning. I became an escort hoping to get close enough to the team from District Four to find out what she knew."
Effie gave a humourless chuckle.
"It turns out that my sister realized what I knew only after I became an escort - the harsh cruel truth; those are children dying. She loved children, you know? But I supposed if you're not working for the Games, it's not actually real to you. Had to find that out the hard way and, I'm sorry, Haymitch, I never knew how terrible life was in the districts until I… Anyway, she told my father. And what did he do? He ratted her out to the Government. He was loyalist, held Snow in very high regards. I – I'm glad he's dead."
"So you're trying to avenge your sister?"
"In a way, I supposed I am," she smiled thinly at him. Effie side stepped him and boarded the train. He never saw her again until the next morning and she never mentioned her sister since then.
XxX
"Haymitch," her shrill voice called out for him, snapping him out of his reverie.
"In the kitchen!"
"Ah, there you are," she walked in, heels clicking on the floor. She dumped the papers she was holding on to the kitchen island which Haymitch had turned into his workstation. "Took a lot of convincing but I got this from the Courts."
It was a list of names of every couple who had been married under the law from the day it was passed till to date.
He let out a breath. "Excellent."
"What do you plan to do with it?"
"I don't know yet. But I – "
"I know what you can do with it. You have Plutarch who is essentially a master at propaganda, harsh as it may sound. Interview a handful of these people. Make it into a clip or something. How they feel about the law? If they are happy and contented? If they think it should end?"
Haymitch tapped a long finger on his chin, thinking and considering Effie's suggestion. "And then what?"
"Then you spread it. The media is a powerful thing, we all know that, and it will catch. If everyone affected by this law shares the same sentiment and if they see that something is being done in the shadows, they will want to be heard too."
"Are you suggesting another Rebellion?" Haymitch asked, slightly affronted. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be part of another anarchy, much less play an active role in it. His time was done. He just wanted to be left alone and live out the time he had left before he dies of liver failure.
"No," she shook her head. "We don't need another Rebellion. Everyone's afraid of another war. We've lost too many. But that's it, isn't it? The memories of the last war are still fresh and we're still recovering from it, so a huge unrest on the street will be a cause for concern for the Government."
"Threaten the Council? That's what you're saying?"
The Council had been set up with President Paylor as its head. The Council consisted of several representatives from every districts who come together to govern the nation by enacting the necessary laws; the marriage law included, hearing debates regarding issues of public policies, the creation of various government organisations and other administrative policies that ensure the government ran smoothly.
"Yes. I don't even think you have to broadcast the clip. You could just take it to President Paylor and tell her it would air if she doesn't repeal the law," she suggested.
Haymitch laughed; the sound bouncing off the walls of the kitchen and the lines on his eyes crinkled making him looked years younger without all the frown lines marring his sharp angular face. Effie thought he should laugh more; he looked more approachable that way.
"Are you laughing at me?" the annoyance in her voice was unmistakeable.
"No, no, I'm not. You're brilliant, Eff. I didn't know you were that cunning," his gray eyes were bright and the lights in the kitchen made it looked a shade lighter.
"I – Thank you," she said. Haymitch hardly gave out praises and she would take that rare compliment.
"I suppose I better get Peeta. He's good with people; he could get them to talk to him."
And just like that, his focus shifted from her to something else entirely. Haymitch never saw her sad gaze lingering on his back as he moved out of the kitchen, or the small sigh that escaped her lips as he chatted with Peeta on the phone. He seemed far happier and contented trying to get rid of her by having the law dissolved than trying to make their marriage work.
I want to thank you all so very much for all the reviews/follows/likes on tumblr you have given me thus far! This chapter is a bit lengthy because I wanted to give Effie some back story.
In Chapter Seven, we'll deal with Hayffie drama. Hopefully, a very major hayffie drama! I'm kind of excited for that chapter. In the meantime, please review, it's very encouraging to know what you think of this.