Category Archives: Conundrum

Conundrum (Part III)

Conundrum (Part III)
By: Mia L. Hazlett

As a little girl, I always believed there was a happily ever after. The concept of spending forever with someone was perfectly logical. But some how life got in the way of me spending my life with my forever. So now the only life that existed for me would be spent alone raising three children.

I wasn’t going to share the news of my pregnancy with my husband. Instead I was going to allow myself the joy of telling him quite the opposite should he decide to care or ask. I really didn’t care how big my stomach got, I would lie to him as he so enjoyed doing to me. But the God in me wouldn’t allow me to join the devil, so I called him and said I was locked out of the house and needed his keys. Granted still a lie, but it was the only way I could guarantee he would come home. Funny I was so afraid to lose my forever, even when I was lying to get it to come home and see me.

Luckily it was a lie and I had my set of keys, because I would have gone the bathroom on myself waiting the 45 minutes it took him to get home. He arrived in the bedroom with a quizzical expression. I continued to paint my nails and with a stroke of the brush, shared my news. He punched a hole in the wall and left without a word. My tears didn’t break until I heard the front door close. I had promised myself the night he dropped me off to go to his mother’s, he would never see me cry for him again.

It’s not that it was my forever that was now lost, but this is not the forever I had promised my children. The moment the nurse placed my daughters in my arms, I promised them that their parents would give them the world. Not that I would give them the world, but we would give them the world. But now I truly had to wrap my mind around the concept that he wasn’t going to be here forever. I, solely, will be my children’s forever.

Days passed without return. The house no longer skipped a beat and I started to run my home as if he no longer lived with us. The third day he returned and searched the kitchen for his dinner plate. Because his forever consisted of dinner on the table or in the microwave waiting when he arrived. But like I said, in my mind, he no longer lived here. There were no leftovers. I cooked for three now…well four.

Work was grueling now. It wasn’t like my other pregnancies when I was working. I had to treat this job as the sole income for my family now. I already carried all of the benefits, but I really had to stretch each check to ensure it covered all expenses. As I came to realize, I was short $260 dollars. If I could come up with that, I could sustain our lifestyle. I took the money he gave me for bills and began to save. Little did he know he was being worked out of our lives.

As I returned home from work two nights after he discovered he was no longer going to be served dinner, my realization from weeks past came true. The girls and I ate. My oldest bathed my youngest, because bending and kneeling were just too cumbersome and painful now. She than took a shower. I read them a story and tucked them in. As I hunted for my bathrobe, I noticed the space in my closet. There was a small space on both the floor and the rack. He had taken his clothes and shoes. I quickly checked the drawers in the bureau, only to find the same emptiness. He was gone. My forever-their forever was gone.

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Conundrum (Part II)

Conundrum (Part II)
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I allowed the days to pass without sharing the news with my husband. Unfortunately at almost forty years-old he had not learned to have his own emotions. I had to look at how his mother felt towards me and that would pretty much dictate the person who walked through my door at the end of the day. So for now she wasn’t speaking to me or our daughters, luckily he was still speaking to our children.

He hadn’t returned any of my phone calls today, nor come home. I spent most of the night up with our two year-old daughter and finally just let her fall asleep in his spot. And in one of the moments that I watched her sleep, it hit me; I was about to raise these three children by myself. He wasn’t going to be here through this pregnancy. At that moment I knew I would never share my bed with my husband again. I had lost my husband to a woman that he was supposed to have left so he could cleave to me. I mean it’s in the Bible. They’re Christians. He was raised in the church and she claims to be involved in hers. So why were they not honoring the word of God?

I woke in the morning to the incessant chirping of my old alarm clock. My daughter slightly stirred, but settled back under the blanket. I rose with a sharp pain in my back and then it shot down my right leg. I stifled all movement and tried to turn so I could get back in the bed. Ouch! That was not about to happen. The pain was excruciating with even the slightest movement. I decided to call out to my husband in the hopes he was just downstairs on our couch after discovering our daughter in his spot.

By the time I had shouted his name the third time, my eight year-old came into the room. I conveyed the situation and before I could finish, she was swinging my legs onto the bed with the rest of me. As I was explaining, she simply pushed me back. My body was so rigid with pain I fell straight back. It’s amazing what children remember. She had to do the same thing when I was pregnant with her sister. And once again he was missing. I couldn’t do this to her again. I refused to allow her to take on his responsibilities. But as I tried to move, I cried out in pain.

Unfortunately, our oldest is well rehearsed in her father’s disappearance acts. She got her sister up and dressed and then herself. She prepared them cereal and made her lunch for school. In the meantime, I made a phone call to my girlfriend and their godmother, who came over and took them to school. As only a best friend could she promised her return, caretaking, and lecture. I guess you could say I fear God, my mother, and her. I guess her moreso than my mother because she knows everything.

I heard the door downstairs open and awaited her lecture. But to my surprise, my husband entered our bedroom dressed in the same clothes he left in yesterday. After inquiring about the kids whereabouts and why I was not at work, he got in the shower and then left. The one thing I was finding out about my crying for him, it wasn’t lasting so long and it didn’t hurt so much when he didn’t come home or left.

Not long after the tears subsided; the lecturer returned, rice cakes and sparkling water in hand. I really had to work on that with her. When we didn’t see each other for a while, she was never dieting. Now when I couldn’t move and needed comfort food, I crunched on salt flavored cardboard and sipped on fake soda. The lecture was redundant from his previous wrong doings. It all came down to, stay or leave. It’s my choice. To stay meant to accept who he was and that his mother came with the package. To leave meant I might lose her, but ultimately I was still tied to him through the kids.

I guess the one thing she did bring to my attention was the phrase, “actions speak louder than words”. She told me not to be fooled by those that can quote the Bible and go to church. Observe how they are living their so called Christian lives. Because ultimately their actions will speak louder than their words.

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By: Mia L. Hazlett

I gave a hearty laugh at the idea of his mother moving in with us. I mean, I seriously laughed at him for having the audacity to ask if his mother could live with us. He knew how I felt about that woman. It would be one thing if she were ill or couldn’t take care of herself, by all means, my Christian heart would have to bend. But that’s not what we were talking about. We were talking about a woman that raised my husband to be her husband. And a house is not a home if there are two women trying to run it.

So his blank face stared at me, with his big brown puppy dog eyes. See my husband was in quite a conundrum and he didn’t even know that I knew. But when you’ve been with someone for so long, you know what their silence means. It means, his mother asked him. He gave the affirmative. He brought me out to this nice restaurant with all the right ambiance. He caressed my hand with the doting compliments and flirtatious grin. And then he tried to slip in the old, “I was thinking…” line. He asked the question, just knowing I would say, yes. But now it has backfired and he had to choose who he wanted pissed at him, the woman who gave him birth or the woman who he had to live with. Again, what a conundrum.

So now that blank face just stared at me. Again I knew what he was thinking. He could spend the rest of our dinner trying to convince me of the “whys and how” this could all work. Or he would actually have to go back and tell his Mommy no. I just didn’t understand why a grown ass married man couldn’t choose his wife over his mother. Just as I thought, he dove head first with the stories I had heard time and time again. “Poor her” and “His father something” and blah, blah, blah. He finished and took up his fork again and gently caressed my hand. He gave that dashing flirtatious grin. He just knew I was going to say yes.

Um…was he new to this? I played like he was. I returned his smile. Set down my fork. I looked into his eyes with my look I knew he liked, “No,” I repeated. Moment over. I withdrew my hand, picked my fork back up and finished off my meal.

Silence engulfed our ride home. There was nothing left to say. Again his mother had spoiled an evening between my husband and myself. The sad part was, it no longer required her presence. And because he chose her over me, he would spend the remainder of the evening consoling her. Just as I thought. We pulled up to the house and he dropped me off. I didn’t care that he was leaving me to be with her. I was used to it.

He never gave me a chance to tell him my news. I was somewhat disappointed in myself because I thought he really wanted to have a special night out. I should know by now that there would be an ulterior motive. Besides the fact I can’t take the woman living just a mile away, nevermind across the hall, she couldn’t use our spare bedroom. In eight months, this was going to be our baby’s nursery.

So instead of being wrapped in my husband’s arms and celebrating the announcement of our third child, I wept alone on our couch in our unlit living room. All the while, just a mile a way, my husband sat in the home he was never raised to leave.

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