Chapter 46, Running on empty
Finally, something more than thick blankets of gray. As mid-morning crept into noon, glimmers of sunlight glittered in the last of the puddles. The blue sky dotted with haystack clouds reflected in people's windows. Enough to lift anyone's spirit.
Unless, of course, your name was Haymitch Abernathy.
Sae saw him from afar. Back facing her, he stood just outside her house. Hair damp and ruffled by nightmares in sweaty pillowcases. The fresh shirt he put on, already clung to him with sweat. Same as for everyone around these parts.
He dipped an old washcloth into a bucket of water and suds. Bubbles ran down his wrist as he wiped the cloth across one of the windows.
The quiet rattle of the tin can she carried by the bail turned his eyes. Bleary and red. Face puffy. Clearly hungover.
But not too hungover, apparently. Not the idle kind.
"I couldn't sleep", he muttered, almost like an apology. His gaze dropped to the duffel bag in her other hand.
"Peeta found it", Sae answered the unspoken question. "On his way to work. You probably oughta give it too a wash, or at least hang it up to dry. They send their love, by the way. Both of them."
"Yeah", Haymitch snorted. He accepted the bag. Dropped it at his feet. "That sounds likely."
He examined the window critically. The washcloth in his limp hand drip-dropped down his leg. The sight made her smile.
"Come boy." She set the tin can on the front step. Herself next to it. The kitchen towel package she'd carried under one arm found a home on her lap. "Come sit with me."
Haymitch heaved a great sigh. But he dropped the cloth with a splatter. Left the bucket, and the windows, to their own devices while he joined her on the porch.
"Since I take it you didn't bother with lunch." She settled the tin can on his lap. Made him take it, lest it tumbled over on the ground. "Or breakfast, for that matter. You eat that up now. Before it gets cold. It's butter bean and tomato stew. With garlic. Or", she added, when he didn't move, "do you want to disappoint your ma by turning down food?"
"She's dead, Sae", Haymitch muttered. But he removed the lid. Had himself the smallest spoonful.
While he ate, Sae unfolded the kitchen towel. Specks of fresh flour danced in the air as she revealed the thick slices of cornbread.
Fragrant. Still warm.
If Katniss loved cheese buns, these were among Haymitch's favorites.
Shoulder to shoulder on the front step, neither felt the need to fill the air with pointless chatter. Not until Haymitch had nibbled his way through one whole slice of bread and was scraping the bottom of the can, did Sae finally speak.
"Haymitch … as much as I appreciate having a live-in maid who cleans out my cabinets, sweeps the house from attic to basement and … washes my windows," she nodded their way, "don't you think it's time you headed back home? You've hardly set foot outside the property all week."
Haymitch tipped the can up, like a mug. Swallowed the last drops before he spoke.
"I'll be out of your hair soon enough."
The words were an honest statement. Not a threat. Nothing passive-aggressive about it.
He scratched his beard.
"Been thinkin'", he said. "'bout that lil' cabin out in the woods. You know: down by the lake. I reckoned, since no one's using it … If I packed a bag or two and the girl lets me borrow a fishing rod, I can stay there a couple of days, couple of weeks."
"You could", Sae said. "If you want to give the poor girl a heart attack."
"Katniss? Didn't know I meant that much to her."
Sae threw him a pointed look.
"Don't play ignorant. You know what will happen. Effie will worry herself sick, once she finds out. All she'll do is paint pictures in her mind of all the different ways you'll get yourself killed out there. Snakes. Tracker jackers. A misdirected arrow. Or, if you actually do make it to the lake unharmed: a drunken swim at midnight. No one around but deer and wild ducks and mosquitoes to hear your calls for help."
Haymitch rolled his eyes.
"So over-dramatic", he said. "Since when do I know how to swim?"
"Exactly."
He tsked and set the can down.
"You know I'm right", Sae said.
"She doesn't have to know", he replied.
"I'm not lying to the girl, boy."
Haymitch heaved another sigh. Arms slumped over his knees; head dropped low. Like giving up.
Sae gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.
"This is not me chasing you off with a stick. All I'm saying …"
"I can't go back there", Haymitch muttered, still speaking to his feet. "I can't, Sae! The house, the yard, the goose pen. Hell, even the oh-so concerned looks of Katniss and Peeta when they think I'm too drunk to notice. It's all just one big reminder that they aren't there. Fuck me, they're not even dead yet and still the whole goddamn place is infested with their ghosts. Even my tablespoons are fucking haunted. Can't look at one without remembering something."
He rubbed a hand over his ruddy face. Straightened up. Just enough to reach for his breast pocket. The bottle of clear liquid inside.
"What?" he said, out of breath, after a couple of sturdy mouthfuls. "Not gonna say anything? 'You have to stop drinking, boy'", he mimicked her tone. Might have made for a fun impression too if his voice wasn't so brimming with pain. 'Just sober up for your family and they will come home. They'll come home and you don't have to miss …'" His voice cracked. Rolling the bottle across his palms, he stared at the treacherous reflections of light in the glass. "'… your children's growing up'", he mumbled.
"What would be the point?" Sae asked, not unkindly. "It doesn't matter what I say. Or Effie or Hazelle or the kids. You've got to want to. Want it for yourself or else … it'll never work."
Haymitch scoffed, like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard in his life.
"Myself? Shit …"
The hard liquor sloshed as he drank. Drank whatever was left. He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. Stared far ahead, as if his red-rimmed eyes might look beyond the trees, the hills, the meadows – all the way to the Capitol.
And the house with the little wishing pond out front.
"I wonder what they're doing today …"