Category Archives: friendship

Angie III

Angie III
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/8/2014

“Shit dawg. Watchu gonna do?” my boy Rese asks as we get ready for basketball practice.

“Rese, I don’t even know. Angie is cool and all, but I don’t want no damn baby with her. And she wants to keep it.
Like I seriously think she thinks we are going to get married and like have this kid,” I say and lace up my Jordans.

“She wants to get married? Yo, dude, you gotta cut her. Get out now and let her and that kid go. Watchu gonna do with a baby anyways? You’re friggin’ sixteen. You gonna be playin’ college ball soon. Don’t call her no more, nuthin’.”

“You think I need you to tell me that? Man I ain’t callin’ no one.”

My phone had like twenty text messages. Luckily she only comes to the high school for two of her classes. She gets high school credit for some classes. Otherwise, she spends all her time in the junior high across the street. My mom and dad don’t know nothin’. They’ll freak. But I’m not sayin’ nothin’. I got a good chance at gettin’ a full scholarship for ball. If this chick thinks I’m givin’ all that up she’s crazy. I ain’t givin’ ball up for no one.

It’s kinda messed up what I’m doin’, but I don’t care. My mother’s father was never around. She always told me if I ever got a girl pregnant, I better stay there for that girl and that child. But my mom is that old school stuff. Don’t nobody get married anymore when they have kids. Even if it gets back to my moms, I’ll just deny it. They won’t be able to prove a damn thing. I mean, I already told Angie I didn’t want no damn kid. If she has it, she’s havin’ it against my will. That’s gotta be breakin’ the law or somethin’. Even if it ain’t, me and Angie are done.
Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Angie II

Angie II
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/4/14

I wake up and am mushed between the wall and my mother. I remember telling her everything. I cried to her about Chris not calling me. If anything, I can’t believe how lucky I really am. My mother didn’t yell at me. She didn’t shame me. She just held me and let me talk. She let me be scared. She let me hate Chris. But most importantly, she promised for the next week, we don’t have to tell my father.

Standing in front of my mirror the next morning, I turn to the side and look at my stomach. It’s still flat. I don’t know for how long, but I know ugly is coming soon. I saw this freshman girl at school one time and her stomach looked like someone had drawn little squiggly lines all over it and a giant one down the middle. If I get fat and ugly, Chris will never want me.

My mother told me we would handle him later, but the most important thing was a doctor’s appointment. She made one for today and she will pick me up after school. I can’t believe how cool my mom is being. I know she won’t last like this for long. Once she tells my dad, it will be over for me. But I need my mom right now. I felt really safe when I woke up with her in my bed. She told my dad I was sick and she wanted to stay close to me.

This cannot be happening. I look at the pick-up ring, which is where parents pull in to pick their kids up from school, and my mom and Chris’s mom are shouting at each other. Chris is in the passenger’s seat, slinking down trying not to be seen. I walk closer and hear my mother say “go fuck yourself,” before walking to the car and slamming the door.

I get in the car and I’m so embarrassed. I don’t say anything. I’m too scared. My mother just cussed my boyfriend’s mother out.

“Honey, I want you to know something. What you and Chris have done, is totally irresponsible. But both of you did it. Both of you. And people are going to say a lot of things because you’re young. But nobody gets to put you down and not hear my mouth. Now don’t get me wrong Angela, we are not friends. I am your mother and when I tell your father, the shit is gonna hit the fan. But baby, I will go to war and back for you. You are my God-given responsibility and I will protect you with my life. Now put your seat belt on.”

We drive off and I love and fear my mother at the same time.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Angie

Angie
By Mia L. Hazlett
11/3/2014

This sucks. My life is over at fourteen. I’m gonna die. I’m so alone. I can’t talk to anyone. I lie on my bed holding my cell praying for him to call. He promised he would call. A quick vibration and “BFF” pops up on my iPhone along with a picture of Shayna.

“Girl,” I say, “He hasn’t called me. He came up to my locker after 4th and he said he was gonna call me after ball. I dun text him like ten damn times. Can’t nobody tell nobody they don’t have no time to text back. “

“Watchu doin’ now? Let’s roll down to his practice,” Shayna puts an idea in my head.

“I just gotta wait for my parents to get here, ‘cause I’m watchin’ Jordy. He gonna be outta practice by the time they get home,” I get the idea out of my head to roll up on him at his basketball practice.

“Well if he ain’t called by the time they get home, we gonna go knockin’ on his front door. He ain’t gettin’ outta this girl. If he thinks he is, the brotha dun lost his damn mind. He’s gotta know he can’t avoid us,” Shayna has always had my back.

“Girl what am I going to do?” I got my boyfriend out of my head and now it is just BFF to BFF.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell your parents. First you gotta see what Chris is gonna say, because you know your Daddy is gonna flip,” Shayna reminds me what else I am scared of.

“What if they kick me out? I mean they don’t even know I have a boyfriend. Shayna I’m so scared.” My voice cracks and the tears follow.

“Girl don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay. They ain’t gonna kick you out. And even if they do, you can come over here. You know my mother would never let you be on the streets.”

Somehow, every time Shayna tells me not to cry, I cry harder. The downstairs door opens. My mother is home. Maybe there is time to catch him at practice.

“Girl I have to go set the table for dinner. My mom just got home.”

I hang up with Shayna and go to the bathroom to wash my face. If I don’t wash my face and get my puffy eyes to go away, I will end up telling my mother. The one thing I’ve always been able to do is talk to my mom. If my mother asks me anything, I’ll lose it and tell her. She can’t know yet.

I throw the cold water on my face and I’m not sure if it is the water on my face or me bending over, but whatever happened, I now stand over the toilet throwing up. Back to the sink. Too late. My mother is behind me rubbing my back as I rinse my mouth out.

I turn and face my mother, “What’s going on babygirl?” she asks.

“Mummee, I’m pregnant,” I crumble into tears in my mother’s arms.

She holds me tight to her chest and whispers into my ear, “I know baby. I already know.”

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Conundrum XIII

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/15/13

Our dinner last night was so special to me. They had all met up before, but I was always the one who couldn’t make it there. I’m so happy I didn’t miss last night. I needed that night out. I hate getting snippet pieces of information from over five or six different phone conversations with everyone. Sitting there last night and hearing what was going on in everyone’s life made me appreciate my circumstances…at least a little bit.

I guess it hurt me the most that I couldn’t share what was going on in my life. I had to wear this happy mask and make myself appear indestructible on the outside, when in reality my life had been shattered three weeks ago. Absolutely shattered to pieces!

The relationships Tasha and Dawn had with their mother-in-laws was the relationship, which existed between my mother and I. It always had been and most likely always will be. My mother was a housewife and my father was an attorney at a prestigious (I’ve always hated that word) firm in downtown Boston. What was prestigious? His title? His salary? His partners? Whatever it was, I never heard “firm” without “prestigious.”

Somehow, this prestige boosted my mother’s image of herself and how she thought others should perceive us. If there was a point of perfection that existed beyond perfection, than that was how my mother wanted to be perceived. I almost ruined that for our family at the tender age of 15. I was raped by our babysitter’s boyfriend.

I had one older brother and one younger. My parents and their prestige led them to vacation and leave us with one of my father’s fellow attorney’s niece to babysit us while they were away. She was twenty-something and would always have her friends and on this one occasion, boyfriend, over to the house.

Point is, he came into my room this one night, drunk. He raped me and I conceived a child. My mother never believed me and told me I was to never say anything about it. I was home-schooled and never left my house. Literally, I never left our property. The backyard to our pool was the only place outside I was allowed. A home-birth was arranged with papers and a social worker or adoption lady, whoever that lady was who took my daughter or son.

Life continued as normal, for my “prestigious” parents anyways. At least my brothers believed me. They found the guy. I don’t know what happened to him, but whatever it was, was relayed in a quick wink from my brother when I asked why his shirt had blood on it one night. That was the best wink I ever received in my life.

I really never imagined I would ever have to revisit that year in my life, until the letter I received 3 weeks ago. That social work lady took away my daughter that day. The same daughter, who hunted me down and now wanted to know why I had given her away. There was a 25 year-old person I never met, who lost her adoptive parents in the past 5 years and now wants answers from me.

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Conundrum XII

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/14/13

There was nothing like spending time with my girlfriends.  Last night wasn’t enough.  I needed them right now, but I knew we all had our own lives to live.  I always thought my husband was my soul mate.  Really, he was almost my best friend.  We’d been together for 22 years and married for 18.  In our world, we were soul mates, but in my heart and mind, those four women I sat with last night truly knew my soul.

On a scale of 1-10 of being myself, with my husband I am at about 9 and my friends a 10.  I know I sound like a bitch, but I cannot completely be myself with my husband in only one relationship in my life.  He knows everything about work, my friends, my family.  But to keep the peace in my house, I have to watch what I say about his mother.  I couldn’t tell him that I wrestle with being Godly and saying fuck that bitch.  What? He would lose his damn mind.  It felt so nice saying it last night.  I was able to be myself and vent my frustrations to my soul mates.

Now I sat in my room on my lazy Sunday.  Once a month I got a vacation in my house from the other creatures that inhabited it.  I woke up at six, made myself a nice breakfast, and got my coffee.  I returned to breakfast in my bedroom and lounged out on my couch.  My six year-old attempted to interrupt, but my husband intervened.

I honestly think this is what has saved our marriage.  He chose to have one Saturday a month and I chose a Sunday.  We can use it to go out or stay in, either way we get time to ourselves.  Our bedroom became sacred territory.  No one was allowed to come in under any circumstances.  Unfortunately, our new guest felt the need to violate this rule.  She had been in here twice this morning.  “Are you going to stay in here all day baby?  You do have children you know.  I know when I had my kids, I just couldn’t get enough of them.  There was nothing so bad about them that would make me want to hide away on a couch all day.”

How did I put this before?  Fuck that bitch.  Amen.

© 2013 Mia L. Hazlett

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Conundrum XI

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/14/13

I sat at the table with my four closest friends.  We hadn’t met like this in the longest.  No kids.  No one’s house.  We were four adults at a nice restaurant sipping on wine and not having to share our plates with anyone.  We all had our own lives going at full speed, that we would try and play catch up, but usually one of us was missing.  Not tonight, we were all here.

Although I had made it through my storm and all of us had shared in our own obstacles, our friend Tasha was at the beginning of her hard times.  Her mother-in-law just moved in with her and her husband of almost 20 years, and their three kids.  It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room or means to support her, it was this woman had done everything to persuade her son to leave Tasha over the past 20 years.  Well as Tasha had always said, “less move in with us.”

The bond that holds this friendship together and that many don’t understand, we are all Christians. Not those fake church on Sunday, talk about everybody, we are perfect in Christ type of Christians.  We are the type of Christians that have Satan on one shoulder and an angel on the other.  Eighty percent of the time we live by the Word, but that other twenty percent, Lord help us all!

“I’m just caught between doing the Godly thing and saying fuck that bitch. She has made my life absolutely miserable for the past two decades and now when I am finally at the point in my career that I can telecommute three days a week, I gotta look at her ass.  C’mon now.”

“Trust me, I know what it is to have a mother-in-law from hell.  They suck.  We all know they suck.  But she’s losing it and it’s going to cost you more to put her in a home.  You know his brothers aren’t going to pitch in on the bill,” I chimed in.

“That’s what I’m sayin’.  I’m willing to pay more.  We can afford to pay for a place.  The only way we can pay, is if I’m working on those three days at home.  You know what I mean.  You know this woman thinks I only work 2 days a week and those other days I’m, ‘just spendin’ up her poor baby’s money.’”

“Well let’s look at this medically.  She’s in the early stages of dementia.  Maybe she’ll forget that she hates you and it will be like a new leaf with y’alls’ relationship,” Karla always knew how to add the comedy.

“I’ve thought about that.  But what if her hate for me has been so strong that I end up being the only one she remembers.  That is more my luck.”

We all laughed and made an ungodly toast for selective dementia.

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BFF VII

BFF VII
By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/5/11

“So how did you find out?” I asked Kay as we sat on her couch.

“The routine shit. I went in and had my pap. I thought nothing of it until I got a call to come in. I went into the office and she told me my pap came back abnormal. I asked what that meant? And she gave me some bullshit about ‘it’s really nothing to worry about, we just want to get a blood test.'”

“So she told you not to worry?”

“Yup, all casual. I gave the blood and left. I honestly didn’t think about it. I really didn’t start getting concerned until they called me in again. So I go in and then they start asking me a series of questions about symptoms. The shitty thing about it, I have like almost every possible symptom, but I thought it was just stress from the four different projects I’m working on at work.”

“Well what are they? Do you still have them? Sorry girl. That was stupid. That was so stupid. I don’t know, I just think you know… well you know…”

“Becky, I need you to do me a favor? You and Rick are going to have to get me through this. One of the things you’re going to have to get used to saying is cancer. I need you to be able to say it. I’ve thought about nothing but, for over a month now. And I can’t take you apologizing for everything that you say either. You have never apologized for anything for all of the years we have been friends, please don’t change on me now. It’s me Beck. I only have a month on you on this. And trust me, besides finally knowing that I have cancer, that’s it. Promise me you’ll learn about this with me?”

We were both crying by the time I scooted over and hugged Kay. “I promise Kay. I promise we will learn and go through this together. If I could switch places with you…”

“And you can’t say stupid shit like that. You should never want to have cancer. Shit, I don’t want cancer. So don’t say you would switch places with me. That’s just not the right thing to say. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Well now I can’t even apologize,” we broke into laughter for the first time that night. “And may I please point out something to you?” I held Kay’s hand.

“What would that be?”

“You have been dropping the S-bomb all night. You rarely swear, if ever. I’m just pointing that out, since we are talking about not changing.

“I’m angry Becky. I’m really angry. I’ve spent an entire lifetime being good and doing the right thing as much as possible. And for all the right moves, I have cancer. So I’m going to give myself a little treat as I get myself through this, I’m going to swear whenever I feel like it. So on the count of three at the top of your lungs, do it with me, one, two, three…”

“SHIT!” we yelled.

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