Category Archives: husband

Taken VIII

Taken VIII
Mia L. Hazlett
8/23/2014

There were woods everywhere.  Woods and no street lights. Dark and only my headlights.  Trying to follow my husband was impossible.  He pulled onto a slight gated dirtway.  It wasn’t really a trail, nor a driveway or street.  He parked and opened the gate.  His taillights stopped shortly after he entered.  He relocked the gate, but did not get back into his car.  A small spot of light wavered in front of him from his flashlight.

I parked my car and stepped out.  Crickets. Owls. Rustling leaves.  A strange barking in the distance. The cacophony of the night hid my clumsy steps, as I tried to following my husband’s spot of light.  I stumbled through the branches and hid behind a tree when I saw headlights coming through the trees.  The lights scanned over a small cottage before the engine cut.

I didn’t see my husband any longer.  The tree continued to give me cover. I’m not sure if I needed the tree, the pitch black did its own job. My eyes adjusted to the frame of a small cottage, but not much else.  I heard a slight creak.  It sounded like a door opening.

Footsteps. I heard running in the woods in front of me.  I found another tree and hid behind it.  The small spot of light returned and jumped up and down.  It must have been my husband.  But what was in that house?  What would make my husband run? My husband ran from nothing.

Faintly I heard the sound of two vehicle engines starting.  Had he found my car?  Before I could turn and run for my car, I saw a speck of light in the cottage.  There was someone in the house.  I ran towards the light and fell.  In my home, this would have been a mere thump.  In this desolate place, it was a clap of thunder.  The light quickly went out.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Filed under fear, fiction, husband, kidnapping, Suspense, Taken

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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BFF IV

BFF IV
By: Mia L. Hazlett
3/2/11

My best friend, Rebecca. I loved that woman. She was the only person that could complete my sentences, go to the store a month after me and buy the same exact dress and not know I already have it, and most of all she knew my heart and protected it better than I did at times. I couldn’t think of the past 28 years being any different. She was the love of my life, the only person outside my family, that had known me almost my whole life and still wanted to be my friend.

The history that Becky and I shared was something that my husband couldn’t seem to get passed. Well maybe not just my husband, but Becky’s husband too. I will say at the very least Becky’s husband reached out and became my friend. So while he hated the fact that I knew everything about his life, he also understood that I wasn’t going anywhere and my advice didn’t always work in my friend’s favor.

I guess the problem I had was that my husband really didn’t do any outreach to Becky. He felt the same way her husband felt about our relationship, but I’m not sure that he could get passed his jealousy to reach out to my friend. One of the pacts Becky and I made in our childhood was that boys stink. As we got approached our teens, there was a boy that liked both of us. He got us to stop calling each other for a whole three days. From that point on, we promised no boy was more important than our friendship. Those three days will be held as the longest we’ve gone without speaking to each other.

The other promise we swore to each other was to never keep a secret. I think we both tried and failed at achieving any sort of promise to ourselves or others. Most people who told us not to tell anyone, would always receive my honesty that I would most likely tell Becky. Some shared, some didn’t, but at least they knew not even their deepest darkest secret would make me break my promise to my BFF.

Now I sat in my bedroom wondering how I had gone a week and at least six phone conversations without sharing the news of what my doctor told me three days ago. This was one time in their lives that my husband and Becky had reversed roles in my life. My husband has been there for me the past month as I’ve gone through all these tests. And now I think he was understanding why he didn’t want to be my best friend. It was a huge responsibility. He continued to ask me if I told Becky yet. I told him I wanted to wait for the results. And now, three days ago-the results, and I still hadn’t told her. How could I tell her I have cancer?

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BFF III

BFF III
By: Mia L. Hazlett
3/1/11

My best friend was my soul mate. Odd? Not really. I laughed when people made that claim about their spouses. It just wasn’t true. Ask any person if they tell their spouse everything…and I mean everything. I myself was married. But unlike my best friend, my husband wasn’t there when I was in elementary school. He didn’t experience my first kiss when I played spin-the-bottle at Jerry Cartright’s party when I was twelve. He didn’t try to get my first crush to talk to me by hanging out at his locker after third period everyday for a week, when I was fourteen. And he’s never told me that I look fat. He doesn’t even know what colors make me look fat, nevermind tell me the truth when I try wear them. And he sure the hell wasn’t there to assist me in writing the worst love email of my life. My soul mate, Kay, she’s been there through it all and because of her, yellow and baby blue are sworn out of my wardrobe.

I actually thought my husband’s jealousy over our relationship proved my case even more. Because my soul mate could not care less how he felt about her. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t be my best friend. There was no comprehension in the difference in my relationship with Kay and with him. I couldn’t marry her. I couldn’t start a family with her. The whole live together thing had never happened. And I prefer to sleep with men, not women. She can’t be him and he can’t be her.

But now since my life partner and BFF learned they both loved me, things were backfiring on me. They liked each other. Meaning, they had each other’s cell and work numbers. And get this, my BFF took his side sometimes. For the first time in our lifetime of friendship she was telling me I was wrong. As jealous as my stupid husband got, he didn’t realize that my BFF had been the glue in our relationship at times. She was a wonderful mediator and had the peace of my soul in her best interest. So in my six years of marriage and my lifetime friendship, I was able to comfortably co-exist with my two favorite people. My life was happy and it was all mine.

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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

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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Conundrum (Part III)

Conundrum (Part III)
By: Mia L. Hazlett
8/31/10

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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