Category Archives: fiction

March 14, 2011 · 7:10 pm

Conundrum (Part VII)

Conundrum (Part VII)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
3/14/11

The silence enveloped the room as I breastfed my daughter and gently rocked us back and forth in the large maple glider my parents had given me. Her ladybug light casted a soft glow in the corner of the room. I watched her suckle and with each blink caught the flashback of this exact moment with each of her sisters. With my oldest, I had this moment on my bed propped up against my pillows in my small studio apartment. I did the same with my second daughter, but it was in our house with her father next to me. I now sat in the makeshift nursery in my friend’s home alone with nothing but dreams and hopes.

The only recent contact I had with my husband was the divorce papers I was served the other day. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that I actually felt sad. We were coming up on a year of being apart and I couldn’t tell you the last time we even talked or he contacted the kids. So why was this hurting? Why when I had embraced and accepted that I was doing this alone, did I feel like I was losing him all over again? I consistently prayed that God hadn’t forgotten me. Sometimes I believed I was just having a pity party, and the rest of the time I tried to hold onto the faith that He had me in the palm of His hand.

I signed the papers and sent them in the return envelope. It was against my faith, but I had to let go. Would God forgive me for giving up? I had continually asked myself this question since I mailed my vows away. But unfortunately my time in prayer had to be spent praying for my strength to support this family and thank my friend for her patience with my situation. I didn’t know if God was going to answer my prayers. I guess part of faith was hope, and I hoped God heard my prayers.

So in the dim glow of the makeshift nursery in my friend’s house, I said a single line to a prayer I had always rehearsed in its entirety, “Thy will be done.” I kissed my daughter and placed her in her tiny bassinet. “Thy will be done.”

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Filed under blessings, children, Christian, Conundrum, daughters, faith, family, fiction, friends, friendship, God, motherhood, parents, patience, praise, Uncategorized

January 23, 2011 · 1:58 am

Macy IV

Macy IV
By: Mia L. Hazlett
1/22/11

It was a lot easier to hate someone because they were a jerk. A jerk was just that, a jerk. And that’s how I had always thought of my grandmother. But this letter made it much more difficult to hate her. I was beginning to understand the deep seeded abuse she cast upon me. Still, how could I erase a lifetime of hate with a letter, well I guess letters? I turned to the only person that could offer some sort of explanation, Macy’s daughter, my mother.

So much pain resurfaced in the two hour conversation we shared – pain for both of us. I realized my grandmother had reached from beyond the grave, and her hatred was revived as she forced me to open old wounds for my mother. When my mother cried, a chord struck in my heart as we relived a past that we thought was buried. As I leaned back on my couch, I regretted calling my mother. It never crossed my mind that my mother was a victim of Macy’s serial abuse too. Macy was a woman so wronged that she carried her wrath for two generations.

My grandmother prayed that my mother would take the routes of my aunts…marry light. But not my mother, Daddy was somehow darker than her. So I guess my baby picture delivered the third strike. My mother was dark, she married dark, and now she had an extra dark baby. She shared with me our first meeting. It wasn’t that warm fuzzy pacing the waiting room thing or waiting by the phone, but I was hidden from her for almost two years. A family birthday brought us together and my hell on earth began.

To those she loved, she was known as Mama. My mother called her mother. I called her Ms. Macy. She called me the black sheep amongst her pure lambs. You see Ms. Macy was the daycare for our family. My mother dropped me off at six in the morning everyday, except Sunday. Six days of relentless verbal torture from that woman…every single week. There was no reprieve. Just a self-hatred that formed from as far back as I can remember.

I sat on my couch for over an hour after my mother left. The letters begged for my attention as I tried to avoid them. I reached for the envelope with the tiny number two in the left corner. Tears streamed as I read each word. I cried myself to sleep that night.

That day at the lake chainjd my life Macy. Therr wuzn’t nuttin’ that happnd to them boyz Macy. Thats just how it wuz back then. Therr wuzn’t nuttin’ that wood happn to white peple dat killd cullurd folk. The thing wuz, white peple didn’t think or care that cullurdz luvd therr babeez. Becuz it wuzn’t only my life dat chainjd, but Mama wuzn’t rite aftr dat eether.

See my daddy dun got killd to. My oldr bruthr Tobias wuz namd aftr my daddy. Daddy shur wuz angree. You mite now think he dun run to therr houz and hurt them, but he didn’t do that. One them boyz walkd passd my daddy in town and daddy dun gave him a bad stare. Thats all it took back den. You dun lookd at a white man rong and you wuz cullurd, then they wood hurt you reel bad Macy. They wood hurt you reel bad.

I dun wish I hadn’t run after them people in the woodz Macy. I dun wish I hadn’t. But I did. Me and my couzin followd thoze therr men and I saw what they did to my daddy. Don’t know if you dun hurd about linchins Macy, but thats what they did to my daddy. They dun linched him.

My daddy wuz a big man. It dun took four of dem skinny white menz to hold onto my daddy. He dun faught dem men through the field, but when they got him to that therr tree in the clearing, therr wuz about twenty othr menz therr. Me and my couzin stayed up in the trees in the woodz, but we could see it all. As I looked past my daddy at the tree, thats when I new what they wuz gonna do to him. Therr wuz already a man hangin’ there. He was just hangin’ therr with no life.

I didn’t do nuttin’ Macy. I didn’t do nuttin’ but cry in that tree. They dun stripped my daddy’s clothes off and tied hiz handz round the trunk ov that therr tree. Sum men had whips and sum had sticks. They dun beat my daddy bad. They beat him till he stopped hollarin’. I thought he wuz ded, but when they untied him, he didn’t fall. My daddy stood aftr hiz beatin’.

A big fat man came on my daddy and hit him in the neez with a big long stick. Daddy fell back with a big crash and cry. Two ov them other men dun put a rope round my daddys neck. I didn’t know where he went as they gatherd in close round him, but then daddy was in the air. They dun threw that rope up over that branch next to that no life man. He kickd and screemd Macy. My daddy kicked and screemed.

When that man let go of my daddy’s legs, he didn’t screem no more. His cheeks puffd and his eyes lookd up. I stoppd lookin’ ’cause I saw one man bringin’ ovr sum fire. I new they wuz gonna burn my daddy. Ain’t nuttin’ no child should have to do, but Macy, I prayd my daddy wuz ded. Macy, I dun prayd my daddy wuz ded. My prayers wuzn’t answerd Macy. I herd my daddy screem to death. All the way to his death, my daddy screemd.

My momma did her best with us other ones after that. But she just wasn’t the same. She dun lost her sons and husband. They dun took the bodies somewhere after that, my daddys, my brothers, and that no life man to. So she lost her men and couldn’t even bury them. Not like all the big stuff that happens nowdays for dedfolk, my daddy and brothers didn’t get no funral. I don’t think it was the no funral so much that botherd her. It was the fact she had to keep cleanin’ the house of the boy who dun killd her sons, raped her daughterz, and got her husband ded.



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Filed under death, fiction, husband, kidnapping, lynching, Macy, racism, wife

January 14, 2011 · 2:10 am

Taken IV

Taken (IV)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
1/13/11

It had been two months since my baby was taken. There were occasional phone calls from the detectives assigned to Jessie’s case. But over all, they were starting to dwindle. It used to be three to four times a week, but now it was only return phone calls. The hardest part to adjust to was the decrease in the search intensity. The first week I functioned completely on adrenaline. It felt like the detectives lived here. Our neighbors did everything to help. The house was never empty. Even the second week, we had relatives and friends in and out. But now there was just us.

My husband held most of the details to the investigation. There was very little that I knew, except that they had not found her. Unfortunately, these past two months, as heart-wrenching as they’d been, had been a reprieve from Mark, my husband, and his brutality. Last night was the first time since we lost her that he’d hit me or should I say beat me. It was with such viciousness that I thought I wouldn’t make it through. There had been times before that I thought that, but last night he unleashed two months of pent up fury.

I touched the mirror instead of my face. My fingers lightly traced my swollen right eye. How my left eye was spared, I’m not sure. The split down my lower lip seemed to cut it right in half. There was a bruise on my left cheek, which was probably the reason for the excruciating pain that shot through my face when I tried to open my mouth. Usually he spared my face, but I guess he knew I wasn’t leaving the house to go anywhere.

The last time I left the house was the morning we went to drop her off for school. It may be selfish, but I wasn’t ready to see other children playing in the neighborhood. I didn’t think I could take hearing the sound of “mommy” coming from a child’s mouth. I sat on the floor in her bedroom and cried myself to sleep most nights. Not to mention my dreams, they rentlessly taunt me.

Sometimes they were memories, sometimes she was running back into my arms completely untouched, but mostly they were nightmares. It was the nightmares that left me drained. There was one that I had consistently. I was at her school and following behind her in the crowded hallways. I could never seem to get close to her, but could hear her distinct little giggle. Out of nowhere, a man came and grabbed her. He was running so fast with her and my legs didn’t move. It was the sound of her screaming, “Mommy help me!”, that always woke me.

“Mommy help me.” Mommy couldn’t even help herself, I thought, as I examined the large bruise on my right side in the mirror. I knew my ribs were broken. A large inhale forced me to double over in pain and brought about a much more painful cough attack. I made my way back into bed. My four pillows offered me the only comfort I think I would find in the next couple of nights as I tried to heal my wounds. I could only pray that my darling Jessie was safe right now. As much as I missed my angel, I was grateful she was not here to listen to my cries for help.

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Filed under daughters, family, fiction, kidnapping, Taken

January 13, 2011 · 3:39 pm

Conundrum (Part VI)

Conundrum (Part VI)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
1/13/11

The test of strength forced itself upon my shoulders. My inner conflict of not wanting him in my life, battled the need of wanting to hold his hand as the contractions rippled their stifling pain to every delicate nerve in my body. But for each brief set of minutes that my body was given reprieve from the brutal attacks, I hated myself for thinking about him at a time that had nothing to do with him. So I had to force myself to focus on the voice of the nurse and not on the thoughts of abandonment.

That is what he had done to us. He had abandoned us. There were no more phone calls. The visits with our daughters had ceased . He had even gone so far as changing his phone number. Luckily I had made us a family before he left, so his disappearance was not surprising. Disappointing, yes. Surprising, no. I hate to say that it bordered relief, but I had released his failures to God, and kept it moving. I had no choice but to stand strong and guide my daughters through the loss of their father.

I tossed from side to side and when I opened my eyes, God took over. All thoughts of him left me as I tuned into my surroundings and felt my friend holding my hand and telling me how soon this would all be over. My oldest sat across the room on a loveseat and held her sister’s hand. Her anxious eyes never left me, and offered me more comfort than his hand ever could.

At the first cry of my new daughter, my past eight months no longer mattered. God had given me a new start and I wasn’t going to give a second thought to my past. Their future depended on me staying in the present. I cradled my new joy, with her sisters’ welcome crowding. As we crammed in the small mechanical bed, I made their sister the same promise I had made them when they were born; I was going to give her the world.

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Filed under blessings, children, Christian, Conundrum, daughters, family, fiction, God, love, parents, pregnancy, sisterhood

December 8, 2010 · 5:50 pm

BFF II

BFF II
By: Mia L. Hazlett
12/8/10

Yup. That was me. I was so full of ambition, but dumb as a brick. And I’m pretty sure with that last comment I’ve insulted bricks everywhere. I was eighteen and working my first real job. And boy was I in love with my boss, or so I thought it was love. It was a time in my life before heartache, hardening, and relationship cynicism existed. A time when if I felt it, I’d let you know…by email even.

So I honestly thought I was in love with my boss. I had worked up a magical love affair between us in my head and was sure he felt the same way. One night we stayed late at the office and he ordered us Chinese food. We worked on editing his presentation and he took off his tie and undid his top button. We shared about ourselves, families, life, (my age, how many siblings, and what I wanted to be when I grew up…he shared nothing personal about himself), and wrapped up the editing. He walked me to my car, waited until I was buckled in, and shut the door.

Now in my head at the time, or more so what I excitedly told my friend when I got home, we had just had our first date. He was cute. I was attractive. We just had dinner. He practically undressed in front of me. Even though we were working, he wanted to know everything about me. He walked me to my car and was such a gentleman, that instead of a kiss or hug, there was just a gentle touch to my shoulder as I slid into the driver’s seat.

Unfortunately, my friend was younger than I. She agreed and assisted me out of a job by helping me compose that dreadful email.

Dear Andrew,

Tonight was magical. I am such an idiot. I like totally forgot to thank you for dinner. You were nice enough to order my favorite fried rice and I can’t believe I like didn’t say thank you. I wanted you to take off so much more than your tie, but you showed what a mature guy you were. I’m not used to boys being so polite and nice to me. That was sooooo romantic how you walked me to my car and opened and closed the door for me. I’ll see you in my dreams tonight when I’m asleep in my lonely bed.

xoxoxxoxoxo and more if you want it,

Becky

Now at thirty-five, I can laugh. Laugh really hard. I’ve saved that email along with my termination letter and at least once a year, my stupid friend, Kay, sends it to me verbatim. Sometimes it’s an email. Sometimes it’s a letter. And every time there is some random picture of a Siamese cat, because I did go to the CAT birthday party. But every time I read it, I laugh myself out of breath. We both laugh, because she too felt like she got fired that day.

I called her from my desk as I was collecting my belongings. I was a complete mess and couldn’t even think straight. Now I wasn’t exactly packing a “box”, because I just had pictures of me and Kay on my cork board and a blue rubber stress ball. The whole time I tried to put my jacket on, the stupid ball kept falling and rolling around. But I was so determined to take it with me because they weren’t going to get my ball. That ball added an extra fifteen minutes to my departure, but to this day I have it.

Kay was already waiting in my bedroom when I got home. I can’t tell you how many times we read that email trying to figure out what was wrong with it, but I will tell you she had to stay over that night. We held back on going to the mall and pondered my dilemma throughout the weekend. My dilemma was not so much that I had gotten fired, but it was my father’s friend who helped me get the job. This was going to be my college job. I could work there full-time during the summer and part-time during the school year.

But because we were so naive about corporate policy back then, we finally brought the email to my father and mother. Yes we did. We thought I had a case against them. We were going to sue them and get like a million dollars. Then we were going to buy houses next door to each other and have matching cars. That’s the thing about best friends, they can make you believe anything when you are both mad about the same thing. So off to my parents we went. I don’t know if my mother stopped my father from jumping over the coffee table to kill me, or if she was just trying to beat me first; but luckily I only received a slap upside my head. And that’s the thing about your best friend being like your sister, she got a slap too. We both decided my parents weren’t going to receive any portion of my settlement.

So seventeen years later and twenty-eight years into our friendship, Kay is still my best friend. The significance of that email, Mr. Andrew Anderson, is Kay’s father-in-law. The rumors were exactly that, rumors. He was happily married with not a daughter older than me, but a son, Sean, two years younger than me and a year older than Kay. They met two months after my termination. We didn’t know the relation until almost a year later, at Sean’s graduation party. I was clever enough in my avoidance, to not see his father again until the wedding. I wasn’t able to laugh at my immaturity yet, so leave it to Kay to read the email at her rehearsal dinner in her best set of cat ears. I was the only one not in hysterics.

But that is just a sliver of our friendship.

(To be continued)

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Filed under BFF, fiction, humor

December 8, 2010 · 5:40 pm

BFF

BFF
By: Mia L. Hazlett
12/8/10

I am in love. That’s right, love. I swear since I finally realized what this weird feeling is every time I see him…or just think about him, I can’t concentrate on anything. But the thing about my feeling, thoughts, all this junk inside me, he doesn’t know about it. I’ve thought about telling him to his face, but I just don’t think it would be all that appropriate. He’ll get the email.

I arrive at work and do my best to keep my focus. The thing about love is, when it takes you over, everyone notices. My colleagues have commented on how happy I’ve been. I guess they can see how in love I am without even telling them. They just notice any little change in your attitude, whether it be negative or in my case, positive.

Everyone I saw got a hi with an unexpected over-interest in how they were. I even stopped and listened to the over-sharers. I’ve never cared about Karen’s Siamese cat. In fact I’ve found their relationship a bit insane. But not today. Nope. I will be attending her birthday party this weekend. Only love could make me say yes to an invitation like that. What else could make me say I would wear my best cat ears? Who has good cat ears?

I type away at my keyboard, and all movement ceases as I see him enter the building. His statuesque frame draped in his black trench coat commands attention. I cannot take my eyes off of his graceful stride as he glides towards me. I blink out of my trance, but fail to take back up my typing. He nods in my general direction as he passes my office and heart.

“Hey dream girl are you in there?” my friend Amy snaps me out of my love trance.

“What? Huh?” I quickly return to my typing.

“Don’t ‘what huh’ me? You can’t go there. He is your boss. End of story. That’s how it ends. You wanted to know, that’s it right there. You can’t date your boss. It never ends happy. And it does end you know?”

“Tell me what you want or go away. I am not even looking at him like that. Although, I do wish he would stop looking at me like that.

“Riiight. Whatever. Why did I just hear Karen say that you are going to her cat’s birthday party this weekend? Are you insane?”

“It’s not for her cat. It’s a cat theme, silly. Who has a birthday party for their cat?”

“Um, that would be Karen. Yes, it’s very much cat themed because it’s for her cat. But you have fun. You need to keep your head out of the clouds and off of Mr. Bossguy. Look at what this daydreaming has done to you. You are attending a party for felines. So not cool.”

“Look, I’m not about anyone that works here. And it’s not a party for her cat. Okay? Let me get back to my memo please.”

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving meow, I mean now,” she laughs and leaves my office.

Okay so “The One” is my boss. And it may not be love, but quite possibly a little crush. He is fifteen years my senior, which makes him five years younger than my father. A little weird yes, but that just means they would have things in common. My father would have to like him. And the rumor is he is divorced and possibly has a daughter that could be older than me, but again, it’s a rumor.

“Rebecca? Are you ready for our meeting?” Mr. Anderson breezes past my office.

I catch up to him as he enters the small conference room. We enter and I am seated across from my future husband. We are going to have gorgeous kids. He should be so happy that I don’t care my stepdaughter is going to be older than me. He must have gotten the email that I sent him by now. This must be what this emergency “meeting” is all about. And on company time to boot. That’s what I love about him, he doesn’t care about breaking the rules. This is definitely not a crush. I’m in love with him.

Freakin‘ Nancy! Our Human Resources director walks in on us. What the hell could she possibly want? Why is she sitting down? He didn’t say anything about her being here with us. An uncomfortable feeling enters my stomach and it’s not that love feeling either.

“Well let’s get started shall we?” Nancy proceeds.
“Um, okay, I think,” I say. “What’s this all about?” I asked confused by her presence. She hands both of us a piece of paper.

I look down and scan over my very personal email to my lover. How the hell did she get it? Oh my gosh, it never occurred to me that he could be involved with Nancy. This is so embarrassing. But I can’t help but respect him. He wanted to tell her he is leaving her for me with all three of us present. He is so worth a cat birthday party.

“Rebecca, obviously you know what you are reading because you are the author. We’ve brought you in here for this meeting to terminate your employment. This email violates our policy on sexual harassment and the suggestions in your email has created an extremely hostile work place for Mr. Anderson….”

(To be continued)

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Filed under BFF, fiction, humor

November 18, 2010 · 7:39 pm

Conundrum (Part V)

Conundrum (Part V)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/18/2010

As I came months from my due date, I had done a wonderful job of shutting everyone out of my life. There was just no one that truly understood the struggles that I faced as a single pregnant mother. Or so I thought. Because on my journey of shutting everyone out, there was a persistent friend that wouldn’t leave my side. She had been through everything with me and she refused to go away.

The problem with trying to maintain the image of strength on the outside when you feel you have very little on the inside, is the facade is easily recognized by those closest to you. So my best friend began to carry me as I mourned the loss of my self expectations.

With my child on its way, two kids, and the sprinkle of not enough, there was no way I could afford my lifestyle. I swallowed my pride and moved in with her and her two daughters. I had always called myself a Christian, but I had never explored faith. Now my friend was saying trust her, she had been in my shoes and it was going to be okay. What about my situation could speak to this “okay”?

As I began to move our stuff into her house, I noticed a small stone plaque near her front steps, “The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want” Psalm 23. She came up behind me and told me I was about to find out what that meant. That invoked a fear in me, because I didn’t want to want, I wanted to have. That was what I was used to. She laughed and told me to buckle myself in, because God was about to set my crooked path straight.

It wasn’t the first night in her house that I comprehended “okay”, nor the second or third. But it was a month later as we rearranged sleeping arrangements to set up the crib for my daughter. It was a month of living without all the “stuff” that I had allowed to mark my success. The material had always determined how far I was in my life. But with the departure of my husband, I felt a loss that couldn’t be replaced by stuff. I thought back to when she told me sell all my stuff and I laughed at her. Now I was rummaging through my “success” and locating the pictures and memories of my family. That’s all I wanted, all I needed. All the rest was replaceable.

In the blackness of the night, I rocked back and forth in the rocking chair next to the crib. There was a roof over my children’s head, clothes on their back, and they ate heartily. I smiled. At that moment in that room, I got it. “The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want,” Psalm 23.

*************************************************************************************
I dedicate this to a remarkable woman, Jennifer L. Texada. She is a wonderful friend and has stayed steadfast by my side as I’ve traveled down my path of faith. Without her loving heart and generosity, I would have turned around a long time ago. Thank you girl. You are a phenomenal woman. I am blessed to have you in my life.

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Filed under blessings, children, Christian, Conundrum, family, fiction, God, husband, wife

October 8, 2010 · 3:56 am

Monster III

Monster III
By: Mia L. Hazlett
10/7/10

With the slightest bump, my head seemed to crash against the steel pillow in the trunk that now jailed me. Nothing I did would release my legs or arms from their bondage. The tape over my mouth was suffocating and I had to remind myself to breath through my nose. I had to shift off my side and the tire they had thrown me on. My broken ribs couldn’t take one more hit.

The car began to slow and I stifled all movement. Then came the laugh, that maniacal laugh. All movement ceased. Car doors slammed. The trunk opened. I was lifted and thrown to the ground. A dog came and sniffed me. He was called away. I was left on the dirt behind the car.

I’m not sure how long I remained on the ground. It was still night so I knew we hadn’t driven far from where I lived. I was thankful that I fell asleep, because that was the only thing that kept the pain away. When I woke, dawn was making its presence. The dog from before slept less than a foot away. I tried to inch my way onto my back. Any sudden movement would reintroduce me to my broken parts.

Before I turned completely over, there was a swift shattering kick to my back. The dog scurried under a truck as I was heaved into the air. My screams didn’t make it beyond my taped mouth, but I couldn’t take the hefty shoulder that was stabbing my fractured ribs. With a deep rooted evil, he made a quick jump up with each step.

The walk took us through the woods to a clearing, which held a shack of some sort. We entered and descended down a stairwell into the same darkness I had experienced at my house. I couldn’t focus beyond my pain, but there was an soft audible crying coming from the pitch blackness that surrounded us.

I was thrown onto a mattress and introduced to a dim light from the corner of the small space. My arms, legs, and mouth were set free. Within seconds the door shut and the locked turned. I protected my pain by staying in my fetal position. There was no where I could go, so I decided not to irritate my wounds.

There wasn’t much I could see from my position, but then there was that crying again. I wanted to answer it with comfort, but I couldn’t withstand another blow of any kind. I was not sure how close or far my captors were. My consciousness refused to remain consistent, so I lost track of time. Minutes, hours, or days could have passed without my knowledge. I just knew movement equalled pain, so I remained in my little ball.

Awoken again, this time to the sound of the lock being undone and the door opening. There was a scuffle of feet. I don’t know if I was dreaming or if my eyes were swollen shut, but now that faint crying was sharing my space.

The cry spoke to me, “Linda? Linda is that you?” Shit! They had her too.

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Filed under fiction, horror, Monster, violence

October 8, 2010 · 1:51 am

Conundrum (Part IV)

Conundrum (Part IV)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
10/7/10

I was happy my affair with my husband was over. He had returned to his mother’s house, his biological wife. He sprinkled the children with not enough time or money, but I had to allow his free will to ruin their relationship. There was nothing I could say to make him want to be a better father and at this point the only thing I cared about was being a good mother.

As my stomach took over my body, my outlook on life began to change. I made the decision that I wasn’t going to stress about my current circumstances, but embrace my pregnancy wholeheartedly. Because in all actuality, I handled my two other pregnancies without him. I could do this one too.

The good part about taking your life back, you begin to shed those that aren’t working in your favor. So the first to go was his new chick. It was her hypocrisy of stealing their father and then wanting to coddle them through the pain, that made me sever the matriarchal tyrant. And in the transformation of wife to single pregnant mother, I realized that less him, I still had a family.

It was our card night, our game night, our movie night cuddled up on the couch, that made my house a home, not who lived in it. If that was the case, Go Fish would have ceased, Memory would be forgotten, and we would disperse to our separate corners in his absence. But pairs were still drawn, matches were made, and laughter, tears and popcorn littered our couch. So instead of dwelling on who had left, I had to prepare my home for who was on their way.

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Filed under children, Conundrum, family, fiction, pregnancy

July 23, 2010 · 8:31 pm

Conundrum (Part II)

Conundrum (Part II)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
7/23/10

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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