Chapter 9
A rain of tears

Part five

Things would never be the same between Haymitch and his father after that. Pa, who used to be his best friend. His superhero. With each passing week, with every fight they had, they were becoming more and more like strangers. Dom only got work one day out of seven on a good week but they scraped by and nothing Haymitch or Helena said could keep Dom from going to the mines.

And Haymitch loathed him for it. Loathed that his father would rather shut his eyes to the truth about his health than let people help him.

He'd never forgive him for that.

Amadeus got frightened when people yelled and after grandpa Harold moved in, he gravitated toward his big brother even more.

Haymitch who still had to work a lot tried to get him more interested in playing with kids his own age. He didn't think it was good for him sitting alone so much but the boy was shy around people outside the family.

As for Maysilee and Leonore, Haymitch hardly ever saw them anymore. Of course they were still in school together and if they met at the bakery or the grocer's or the apothecary they always nodded hello. But the close bond they'd shared for all those years, it would never be the same.

He knew his friendship with the Donner twins had been unusual. They would probably never have been friends in the first place if his mother hadn't become their seamstress. Merchants and Seam workers alike had muttered quite a lot when they saw them playing together but they, Haymitch, Maysilee and Leonore, hadn't even been aware of the fact they were supposed to be different.

Now their friendship was slowly dissolving like friendships sometimes do and he saw them spending more and more time with Theresa when she wasn't helping her parents at the apothecary shop.

Ever since he shouldered the responsibility of feeding his family it was like the differences between their lives were pulling them further and further apart, whether they wanted to or not.

He had to go to work every day after school, he would have to sign up for tesserae as soon as he turned twelve, while they… well, wouldn't.

He didn't hold them a grudge. It was just the way it was. But he missed them. Mourned the world they'd shared once when they could tell each other everything.

Not that he had a lot of time to ponder over this. He worked most all day off school and on Saturdays. What little free time he had left he wanted to spend with his family.

And Tara.

After their first meeting on the Meadow Haymitch had kept seeking her out in the school yard, followed her home and had even come knocking on her door at weekends – using everything in his arsenal to try and make her change her mind about the book.

But Tara was hard as a stone.

"It's the only nice thing we've got," she said.

It took a while, quite a while but when Haymitch finally had to accept he'd never get his hands on the book, it was already too late. He'd already started to like hanging out with her.

Tara had lived alone with her mother ever since her father died when she was still a baby.

Pissin' Joe had been a known informer and one of the most hated men in Twelve. People called him Pissin' Joe because it was said that after he got on bad terms with his best friend, he went pissing on his grave after he died. Whether that was true or not, Tara's father made a lot of enemies in the district and ended up being killed by an angry mob. No one was even sure who actually killed him but four men were hanged on the square because of it. So just as much as people admired the Abernathys they looked down on Tara's family.

But she was cool. She and her mother both.

Haymitch and Amadeus joined up with her every morning before school. She was tons of fun and could swear like a sailor, up to the point even Haymitch blinked and had to say stop. She was a great story teller too, claiming all of her insane tales of the world was the God's honest truth. A joke of course but Amadeus, only seven, listened with round eyes and believed every word.

He adored Tara and often came with when Haymitch visited. Tara liked his house better though. Her mother worked the mines often from dawn to dusk so their place was almost always empty while the Abernathy's kitchen was the heart of the house where everyone gathered. Ma by her sewing machine, pa with Amadeus on his lap, playing tic-tack-toe. Grandpa Harold in the armchair close to the fire and Tara and Haymitch on the floor, throwing a ball so Gus, the dog, could run after it.

Haymitch loved those days. Food was still scarce leaving everybody in the house with a gnawing feeling in the stomach but being together all of them and with no fights, you could almost forget the misery so very present in your life and the Hunger Games drawing nearer.

But then one day, shortly after the last snowstorm in March, Haymitch woke hearing his father's hushed voice, saying,

"I might be late so you just start without me, Len."

Haymitch immediately pulled himself up, only to see Dom dressed in his miner's clothes.

"Where're you going?" he asked loudly, not wanting his father to think he could sneak out unnoticed. "Today's Sunday!"

His brother squirmed next to him at the loud sounds.

"They need extra folk, Haymitch," their father said. Amadeus, awake now, looked worriedly from Haymitch to Dom. "I won't miss dinner. I'll just join up with you later."

"It's Sunday!" Amadeus covered his ears. "We're supposed to be together on Sunday! Or don't you even care anymore?"

"Haymitch," Helena warned but Dom just watched his oldest son with sad and exhausted eyes.

"You don't waste any time making life difficult for me, do you?" he said. He kissed Helena's cheek in passing and left.

The rest of the family spent a quiet and miserable Sunday. Their first Sunday without Dom. Haymitch sat with Amadeus, too bitter to even speak. He felt like kicking and screaming and crying like Gertie Thornley when he thought about his father and how he'd looked at Haymitch like he was the biggest disappointment in his life.

When dinner came, the two boys set the table. Helena served up food on their plates and then helped grandpa Harold to eat, spoonful by spoonful. No one felt like talking. And when it was time for the dishes their father still hadn't come home.

"He loves you," ma said, trying to lift her sons' spirits. She dabbed Grandpa Harold's mouth with a napkin and moved his armchair back to the fireplace. "That's why he's doing this."

Right after she'd said it they heard sounds from outside, like boots against slush. The next moment Tara's mother barged through the door, covered in back and in her miner's clothes.

"Helena!" Gwen panted, looking from her face to the two boys and back in anguish. "The mines… Dom."

"What's wrong with pa!?" Haymitch had sprung to his feet. Amadeus clung to him.

Helena had already gotten her coat, pale as a ghost.

"Please, stay with the boys."

And she was gone.

"No, I'm coming too!" Haymitch said when Gwen tried to stop him. Amadeus clung to his arm, crying and wailing.

He hammered Gwen with questions but she didn't give him any straight answers. Amadeus was going into hysterics. Finally Haymitch sat him down on his lap, rocking him. His face was ashen. When the handle creaked his eyes darted to the door but it was just Tara and Gus.

"I don't know," she said before he could even ask. "But they say… they say your father collapsed."

An hour passed. Two. Tara and Amadeus sat cross-legged on the floor with Gus in the little boy's arms. Gwen eventually made up their beds for the night but while Amadeus fell into a restless sleep whimpering under the blankets Haymitch couldn't be still. Most of the time he was by the window, watching and waiting for his mother and father to come home.

When Helena finally did step over the threshold she was gaunt, beaten down, like she'd aged 20 years in the past few hours.

And she came alone.

xXx

Amadeus couldn't understand that his father was gone. Pa, the biggest and strongest of them all, nothing could beat him. Nothing. The seven year old followed Haymitch around asking questions he didn't know how to answer.

"Why did he die, Haymitch? How could he die?"

Amadeus wouldn't know what a right-sided heart failure was and even if Haymitch had managed to explain that it was the years and years of breathing in coal dust that had ended their father's life he couldn't bear to even speak of it. Ma couldn't either. They were alike in that respect. They pushed down the things that hurt too much and carried on like everything was normal.

Too hollow to even cry Haymitch threw himself into work with a vengeance, even more determined to provide for the family, hoping school and hard labor would make him too exhausted to think about pa.

He didn't see Madam until it was time to harvest dandelions. Something that used to lift his spirits tremendously, knowing he'd get to add dandelion salad to his family's dinner after he and Madam had chopped off the blossoms for the wine.

It wasn't the first time he'd helped her make alcohol. The smell made him crinkle his nose but ever since she stopped being a teacher it had been her small escape from starvation – making those bottles from dandelions and potatoes and oak leaves too now that she had someone like him who could scale up those trees on the Meadow.

Their fingers and palms were stained with dandelion sap as they cut the blooms off its stems. Madam rubbed her brow with the back of her hand and looked down at the young boy by her side.

"It's under control," she muttered. "Go play me a song, boy."

Haymitch's brow crinkled. He didn't look up from his work.

"I don't wanna play."

The water was boiling and Madam went to lift it from the heat.

"Was my father who taught me this recipe," she said. "It's been in our family for almost 200 years."

Haymitch pressed his lips together and stared intently at the knife as it cut through the plants. He didn't want to hear about Madam's father or her family.

"The fights we could have", she continued in the same calm, rough voice. "We were just as bad tempered. Both of us. But it didn't matter. We knew where we had each other. He knew I loved him and I knew he'd always love me no matter what I said or did."

Haymitch clutched his fist around the knife so he wouldn't humiliate himself by crying.

"Why don't you just go play me a song."

"I don't wanna play!" He whipped around, throwing his knife far in a corner. "I'm never gonna play! Not ever again!"

He stood there breathing heavily and waited for the scolding, wanted it even. Madam watched him quietly.

"There wasn't anything you could've done, child," she said. "His lungs were already too damaged."

"Yeah! I should've just pressed a pillow over his head like you did and be done with it!"

And with that he ran and slammed the door shut.

Madam stood where he'd left her. No one looking through the window could have guessed what she was thinking in that moment. She only picked up the knife that'd left a gash in the wood and returned her attention to the dandelions.

It was all dark when she went out but Madam knew her way around the district as well as her own house. There were still a few lights on in the Seam but otherwise only the burn barrels for the peacekeepers on patrol lit her way to the boy's house.

She kept herself in the shadows. The boy and his baby brother was getting ready for bed. And Helena, she was working. The lamp light reflected itself in Madam's gray eyes as she watched the young woman. Sweet Helena. If she had lifted her gaze from the sewing machine she might have seen the old woman there even in her dark shawls that made her almost one with the night.

But she didn't.

And Madam left the basket of dandelions on the front step, along with the coins at the bottom. When Haymitch answered her knock she'd already disappeared.

xXx

That year's Hunger Games were one of the longest in history.

And Haymitch turned twelve.

Tara came with him when he went to the Justice Building and they carried his year's supply of grain and oil back together.

They swung by her house first though. He hadn't told ma about the tesserae and even though he knew she knew as well as he did that they didn't have any choice he just couldn't face her right now or Amadeus.

When he was younger he'd thought he'd be scared out of his wits, the day his name was put in the reaping bowl. That he'd only feel safe before then. Of course now he knew you were never really safe and with the loss of pa and his fight with Madam weighing down his conscience… it was like he couldn't muster up enough energy to care.

But if he could pretend for Helena and Amadeus and the rest of the world he couldn't hide it from Tara.

So when they sat there by the fire with Gus in a panting heap on the rug Haymitch told her. About Madam, about the secret piano lessons, about pa, about everything.

Tara listened in silence. She didn't interrupt once. And it was the thing about her. Just another aspect where they were alike. She could comfort you just by being there. Because she understood, because she was his best friend and didn't come with a bunch of platitudes like "You're going to be alright" or "Things will get better soon."

But she did say one thing,

"You should go tell Madam you're sorry."

xXx

It felt like years since he'd been over at her place. He dreaded what he was about to do but Tara walked by his side. It helped that she was there.

Without knocking, it'd never been their custom, he pushed inside and the first thing he saw was the broken plate in a pool of soapy water.

"Well, it's about time." Madam sat slumped down on a stool. There was a hint of a smile on her lips but the words seemed to cause her difficulty, her round shoulders rising and falling in ragged breaths.

Haymitch was by her side in a heartbeat.

"What's the matter? What's happened?"

"Nothing," Madam waved his words away. "Plate just slipped out of my hands. Nothing to worry about. Could you just…"

He helped her up and to the bed.

"You want me to get someone? Someone from the apothecary…"

"No need to fuss with me, child," she said. "I'm a big girl."

He pulled a chair to the bed and sat down,took the blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked her in. He watched her with concern but she was already starting to breathe more like normal.

"What I said…" he began.

"It doesn't matter, boy." She opened her hand and he took it. It was the first time he'd ever held her hand. Her fingers were crooked and gnarled but he felt the strength in them, still.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said. "I know what it's like when you want to help someone and you can't."

And the tears that had always been there, like a clump in his stomach, welled up in Haymitch's eyes. Madam didn't say anything but she didn't let go of his hand.

"You're a good boy," she mumbled. "Don't become like me."

Tara had kept to the background, picking up the broken glass. Now she walked up to Haymitch. At his side, always.

"This is Tara."

"The one with the little dog," said Madam.

Tara nodded. Haymitch rubbed his eyes with his hand.

"I'll stay here tonight."

"No need. Go home and be with your family. When you come back here on Friday we'll play four-hands together."

They stayed long enough to take care of the dishes though. Haymitch washed and Tara dried them. All the while, Madam lay on the bed with her eyes closed. It looked like she was sleeping. But when Haymitch and Tara was about to leave she drew a ragged breath.

"Haymitch!"

He turned, surprised by the rare use of his name.

The fatigue was pulling her under but she fought it.

"When you see your mother," she said. "Tell her… thank you. Tell her I'm sorry."

xXx

Haymitch knew Helena loved him and his brother; that she'd do anything to keep them safe. But he could count on one hand the number of times she'd hugged him.

Helena had always been a very calm and collected person, much like grandpa Harold. Dom had been the emotional one in their family. The one who laughed and teared up easily and who never failed to hug and kiss his sons every chance he got. Perhaps because he knew he'd have to make up for the fact their mother wasn't a cuddly person.

But when Haymitch walked up to her that evening and repeated Madam's words, he saw something on her face. Like when a stone hit the surface of a pond it rippled through her normally so composed features. And the next moment she'd pulled him into a hug.

Haymitch was too shocked to even hug back. So unused to having his mother's arms around him he just stood there, rigid and stiff.

The hug didn't last very long and he watched as she returned to the stove as if nothing had happened.

"You knew Madam, didn't you?" he asked quietly.

The fabric stretched over her back as she stirred the pot. Finally when he thought she wasn't going to answer she said,

"Constance, Haymitch. That's her name."

Haymitch wouldn't play four-hands with his old piano teacher. Not that Friday or any other day. Not long after his last visit, Madam, Constance, passed away in her sleep.

They buried her in the woodland cemetery where her granddaughter rested.

Haymitch couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she was gone. It didn't feel real that if he walked into Madam's house she would not be there, asking him to play her a song.

Someone needed to clear out her things. Every house in District 12, however ramshackle, belonged to the Capitol. Within two days the relatives had to empty it so the Head Peacekeeper could assign it to the next married couple or else all the belongings were fair game for lower ranked peacekeepers to rummage through before they burned the rest, leaving the place robbed and violated.

Of course, Madam had no living family members. Haymitch had wanted to do it. He hated the thought of someone else looking through her stuff; someone who hadn't known her.

But on the day, he was told to stay home with grandpa Harold and Amadeus while ma cleared out Madam's house with the help of Greasy Sae. Later he heard that most of it, along with the old piano, was donated to the community home.

While his mother was away Haymitch sat at the kitchen table playing tick-tack-toe with his brother but his mind wasn't there.

And woven together with his loss was something else. Madam's last words that wouldn't leave him any rest.

Tell her thank you. Tell her I'm sorry. What'd she mean by that?

Ma wouldn't tell and with each day his unease only grew.

Until one day when Helena sent him to the Undersee's with Ollie's new shirt and trousers and Haymitch walked straight over to Greasy Sae's house before anything else.

The woman sat on her front step, plucking a chicken. With each yank clouds of feathers snowed down on her youngest to the boy's glee and delight. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and that's when she saw him.

"Haymitch. Hi."

"How'd Madam know my mother?" Haymitch blurted. "Something happened, didn't it? Before. You know, don't you? You know everything."

Sae had abandoned the chicken. She gave him such a queer look.

"She won't tell me, but I have to know! Please, Sae!"

"Haymitch…"

"Did she do something to my mother?"

Sae watched the twelve year old standing before her, the desperation in his eyes.

She drew a breath, deep as a sigh.

"Come."

She took him to the Meadow. They sat under Haymitch's and the twins' old oak tree while the toddler picked flowers, not too steady on his chubby legs.

"Just so you know, Haymitch," Sae said, "I don't know all of this firsthand. Some of it I've heard from others, or just guessed."

Haymitch watched her intently, waiting for her to continue. Sae looked from him and to her son and there was concern in her eyes that wasn't because of either of them. And she said,

"You know she had a granddaughter, don't you?"

Haymitch nodded. Of course he did. How could he not? It'd all been before he was born but everyone knew about District 12's victor. Their only victor.

Sophie.

to be continued…

Author's note: And this Haymitch-esque timeline is coming to a close. Sixth and finale part coming up! Thanks to all of you reading and responding to this story. It really means a lot!