Haymitch's Love: The Untold Story

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Nemit: The Unexpected

'I love you.' He whispers, his warm lips brushing against her ear.

Tonight is Haymitch and Nemit's final time together.

 Tomorrow morning he leaves for the Victory Tour. The two sit hand in hand by the light of the moon at the place where they first met: the pond in the forest. They dip their feet lazily in the cool water.   Haymitch playfully bumps his feet against Nemit's own.

She stares down at her toes, watching them swirl around, making spirals in the water, as she tries to come up with enough courage to confess what she knows she must. Although she doesn't want Haymitch to leave, there are more pressing matters on her mind at this moment.

For about a week now, Nemit has felt tired.  No, more like exhausted.  Every morning, her pounding head forces her awake.  She seems to go about her day in a fog.  A dull aching sensation has attached itself to her back.  Her only refuge from this pain is in sleep, which seems much harder to do these days.  Just three mornings ago, she woke up to a very nauseating feeling indeed, rushing to the bathroom only just in time to vomit. That is when she knew something was wrong.

If Nemit had a mother she supposes that she would've gone to her in this time of need and confusion. But instead, she had gone to the only option she could think of. Once again, she had found herself standing in front of that crumbling, red brick home.

Zelda and Belta had exchanged a strange look when Nemit had told them what she had been experiencing. They asked her some rather embarrassing questions and then proceeded to tell Nemit some valuable information. The first thing they had told her was that she was most likely pregnant, something that had taken Nemit completely off guard. Pregnant? How could she be pregnant? Such things happened to older women...not sixteen year old girls!  But the more they spoke, the more things began to make sense.  Nemit's stomach churned as images of her years spent in the Home began to emerge from the back of her mind.  She remembered seeing the wide, sunken eyes of the Seam girls who occasionally knocked at the Home's rickety doorstep.  Sometimes, the girls would stay for a few weeks or even months.  They always had round, protruding bellies, long, stringy hair that seemed to be falling out in places, and pale, drawn in faces.  Thinking back, they can't have been much older than Nemit's age now.  Nemit remembers the countless times where she was awoken by horrible, terrible screeches in the middle of the night.  But by the next morning, the girl was no where to be found.

Zelda and Belta then explained what to expect and do for the nine months to follow.  Nemit would worry about what to do with the baby later.  They had also told her to guard against telling Haymitch or even Ms. Abernathy until she was absolutely sure and ready. Despite all their help, one thing they  said had struck a chord with her.  They believed that Haymitch may act strangely or even be angered by the news. But she had refused to believe that he would ever react in such a way. At least, up until now. Now, of course, as they sit together in the darkness, she is having her doubts...

At the time, the two girls had been a great source of comfort.  At least they were there for her. But that night, she had gone home in a daze. She remembers hesitantly crawling into the satin sheets, feeling disgusted with herself, eyeing Haymitch uncertainly and lying farther away from him than normal. She lay there, trying to come to terms with herself, trying to realize the reality of this all. Was there really a little human in her stomach right at that very moment?

There still is a little human in her stomach, right at this very moment, but Nemit hasn't really realized what that means yet. She looks down at her legs, purposely avoiding Haymitch's gaze. For these past few days, she has been shrugging off his touch, purposely avoiding his gaze, and avoiding his requests to be alone with her. She doesn't really know why though. It's not as if she loves him any less. On the contrary, at night, her heart silently yearns for him to hold her. To cradle her. She wonders how he must be feeling. Confused and hurt, probably.  She sees the look of dismay that crosses his face whenever she is in one of her colder moods.  His eyes become downcast and his brow becomes consumed by a heavy crease, as though his brain is trying to calculate what exactly he has done to upset her.