Page 10 of Fractured Grief
Taken aback, I asked, “What do you mean the people who were mean to me and Mommy? What did you hear?” We’d been so careful to shield Hazel from the vitriol. We rarely went out as a family, and if we did, we went towns away. We’d only spoken about it or discussed it once Hazel was in bed. Kids were perceptive. Hazel was empathetic and whip smart, so it shouldn’t have shocked me to see she’d picked up on a few things.
“I saw Mommy crying sometimes and then heard the mean things on the phone and in the street,” she spoke as if it were no big deal, like she wasn’t breaking my heart. “Then Mommy told me what happened and that people are mean sometimes. And those people are called bullies, and we should never show how much they upset us, cause that’s what they want.”
I was gobsmacked. When had Lexi told her this? What phone call? Lexi hadn’t spoken to her family since she’d told them she was pregnant, or that’s what I thought.
“When was this?” I asked, thinking I already knew and dreading the answer.
“In the car, on the bad day. We stopped ’cause I had to go to the toilet. I should’ve gone at home, but I didn’t need to then. I told Mommy I was sorry. People were very mean and angry at us! They said words I didn’t know, but Mommy said they were bad words. I could tell she was trying to be brave, but her eyes were so sad,” she paused to look at me. “Why were people so mean to Mommy? Mommy was nice and she took care of us.”
“She did, sweetie. Your mother was the best person I knew. She was my best friend.” I could feel my eyes starting to burn. “There was no reason for those people to be mean to Mommy. Sometimes people are just mean or made to think that hate is okay, but it’s not.”
I wasn’t sure if what I said would make sense to Hazel. Lex and I had thought about how to explain the town and the people’s hate. But we hoped Hazel would be much older and able to understand religion and twisted belief systems. Not an innocent kind-hearted eight-year-old dealing with a bully on the playground.
“What happened with your friend? Was she okay?” I asked, trying to get back to the current issue and not dwell too much on who Lex might have been talking to on the phone.
“Mel was okay. They were sad, but we ran away from the mean girls, and then I cheered them up with hopscotch.”
“Did anyone else see this girl being mean? Was there a teacher on the playground?”
“No, she makes sure no adults are nearby.” Leaning forward as if she had to tell me a secret, she continued in a stage whisper, “She’s mean to everyone. I’ve seen her; she’s even mean to her friends. But her dad is the principal, so no one can say anything.”
“Well, that’s no good. What about your class teacher? Miss Emerson seems really nice. Do you think she could help or at least allow you and Mel a safe place to play? Can I talk to Miss Emerson and let her know what’s going on?”
“No, Daddy! If you tattle on her, she’s even meaner! I can handle it. She doesn’t know me yet, so she hasn’t said anything mean to me, just Mel. But me and Mel can run away faster than her, so we know how to get away.”
I was both proud and worried about the whole situation. I’d only met Hazel’s teacher and the office ladies in person once. All other meetings were done via phone calls or emails. In school, Lex and I had only had each other, and we were outcasts but usually overlooked, until Lex got pregnant, then everybody knew who we were. I, thankfully, hadn’t had to deal with one-on-one bullying since Lexi had always stepped in, and we’d never left each other alone.
I was at a loss for what to do.
“Okay, but you have to tell me everything this mean girl does. Try to stay away from her if you can, but I don’t want you or your friend to get hurt. Words can hurt more than people realize. It’s important to speak up.” I was such a hypocrite. I was the timid one. I never spoke up. Lexi was my defender, my voice, my savior. She’d know exactly what to say to Hazel in this situation. I didn’t feel equipped for this at all. I'm not sure what else I should say, so I redirected the conversation. “Tell me more about Mel. Are they in your class?”
“Mel’s awesome! They like Rapunzel, too! Mel told me it’s their favorite movie. If we have a sleepover, we have to watch it together. They know all the songs, like me,” Hazel’s face lit up as she spoke about her new friend. “You said the right pronouns, Daddy. I know it’s important. Meltold me they like they/them pronouns, but the class doesn’t listen and still calls them by the wrong name. It feels mean, but some people just don’t listen.”
Trust Hazel to be a fierce ally. We wanted Hazel to be accepting of all people, no matter their race, gender, sexuality, or ability. That was hard to do in a town that didn’t value diversity. Our desire to escape had grown from this. We’d discussed pronouns, nicknames, preferred names, and even touched on sexualities. We wanted to ensure she would be comfortable coming to us with anything and everything, and knew from birth that we would love her unconditionally, no matter who she decided she was or who she loved. We wanted to give her what Lex and I never had—a fully supportive, loving household.
“Some people choose not to listen, but that’s wonderful that Mel told you their pronouns and you know to use the right ones. I’m proud of you, kiddo,” I said.
“Daddy,of course, I use the right pronouns. Mel would know who they are more than I would, and it seems mean to use the wrong ones when someone’s told you what they want.” She was so matter-of-fact, I couldn’t help but smile and think how proud Lexi would be of this moment. We’d taught our kid acceptance, kindness, and equality, and she’d run with it in the best way.
We’ve done good, Lex.
Chapter 6
Seb
Ijolted awake as pins and needles assaulted my leg. Being warned it would happen didn’t make it any less painful. There’d been a similar sensation in my arm when the feeling returned, but nothing this intense. It felt like my leg was being attacked with burning hot nails.
Gritting my teeth, I shifted, only seemed to set the nails on fire.
“Fuck!” I couldn’t help reacting because this didn’t feel right.
“Hey man, are you okay?” A soft voice spoke from behind the paper curtains to my right. My roommate. I’d yet to officially meet him, but I thought he might be elderly, due to his frail-looking frame and wisps of white hair I’d spotted.
I could only grunt in response, breathing through the sensations trying to overwhelm me.
A pole came into view moving the curtain out of the way. I was so focused on my leg that it took me a second to register what I was seeing. Alfred wasyoung. He had a shock of white hair, cut into waves to frame his face, and his porcelain skin. His eyebrows and eyelashes were also white.
He gazed at me with concern in his silver-blue eyes. “Ah, did you need me to call a nurse?”
