Hazel - Meet the Parents (Patreon)

“I got these.” Holding a bouquet of pink flowers in my hand, I showed Hazel the bouquet for approval. The market was bustling. People running back and forth in what I would like to believe was a similar situation. Beholden to a right of passage in every relationship.  Meeting the mother.

Hazel looked at the flowers, catching her lower lip between her teeth. Her hair hung in kinky waves down around her shoulders, her cheeks high with blush.  She had put on three different outfits that morning, all of which she tossed aside in favor of her current one because, as she put it, it was less offensive. It was gray with light yellow flowers at the hem and sleeves. It was pretty but it wasn’t Hazel. I didn’t dare say that to her, however. She had fluttered around the house in a nervous tizzy all morning, repouring her coffee and drinking more and more until I finally dumped the pot down the sink.

“No,” Hazel said, snatching the flowers from my hands and putting them back in the bucket. “They’re pink.”

“What’s wrong with pink?” I thought they were nice looking flowers.

“My mother deplores pink. She says it's Satan’s color.”  There was a bunch of burnt orange daisies along with some beautiful eucalyptus.  Hazel grabbed that and handed them to me. “These. She’ll love these more. Or do you think we should get the roses? More traditional? No, I’m second guessing myself. These. We should just get these.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“Maybe we should go without the flowers completely,” Hazel said, shifting back and forth. “It might not be the right time.”

“For flowers?”

“For meeting her.”

Lucinda Albright had asked for dinner. Hazel and I had been together for over a year and I had yet to go across the Market to her mothers house. Hazel was there almost every weekend but I had yet to accompany her.

“Hey,” I said gently, stepping into her personal space. “Listen to me. This is going to be fine. You’re overthinking it.”

Hazel huffed a breath, leaning close to me. “She’s really nice once you get to know her. I know she can seem cold and she’ll be judgmental but I’m telling you that it’s all out of love. She’s just very protective of me.”

Malcolm had told me several things about Lucinda. None of which were favorable.  But I was taking my opinion as it came and trying my best to be open for Hazel’s sake.

“I’m going to buy these flowers and then we’re going to go see your mother,” I told her gently. “I’m excited to see where you come from. I’m excited for dinner.” Hazel looked up at me, her eyes wide and glistening as she tried to reign in her fear. “And tonight, we are going to go home and curl up in front of the fire together. Because today is only one day.”

“Only one day,” she repeated. Though, she was trying to convince herself more than me.

We walked hand in hand towards Lucinda’s house at the edge of the market where the trees grew crooked and the moss was thick beds that hid dangers below the earthen floor.  There was a quiet to this area of the market. The birds whispered and the frogs didn’t dare to croak.  The cottage that was at the edge of the lane was made of gray brick and verdant vines that were braided up and over the roof.  The gate was made of pointed iron and was polished with a slick shifting oil.

Hazel smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress, looking at the twisting rock face of her mothers front door. It was shot through with a deep green light, pulsing with the beat of a heart.

“Okay,” Hazel said. “Okay.”

I squeezed her hand to reassure her as we walked up the front stoop.

Hazel knocked on the door, straightening up. There were sharp clicks from the other side and a puff of magic that simmered around us. When the door opened, a woman stood there. Her straight black hair hung down to her lower back and her high cheekbones were sharp cuts beneath her eyes.  She was the exact opposite of Hazel. I wouldn’t have even known this was mother and daughter if I had not been told.

“Hazel,” the woman said, her voice deep and husky.  She had a coiled smile on her face as she stepped forward to kiss her daughter on the cheek. “Oh, darling. We are going to have to do something about that dress. It’s not quite fitting right, is it.”  Hazel smoothed her hands against it again, not really sure what to say.  “Now, is this your significant other?”

“Oh, uh. Yes. Mother, this is–”

“Oh, I know who this is.” She turned to me, her eyes sharp. “Hello.”

“Hello, Mrs. Albright. Your house looks lovely.”

“What a funny thing to say since you haven’t seen any of it.”  I thought she would step aside then. Let us in. But instead she kept staring at me. Almost expectantly.

Remembering the flowers, I held them out to her. “I got these for you.”

Lucinda took them. “Pretty.”  It was only then that she turned, walking into her house.

The living space was dark with woven rugs and heavy wood furniture. It was clean and had a sort of elegance about it that spoke of power. Lucinda went over to the kitchen to put her flowers in a vase before looking at Hazel.

“My darling daughter, can you please go and check on the soup.”  It was bubbling right next to Lucinda and yet the second that Hazel was about to sit down, she spoke up to her. And Hazel responded.

“Of course, mother.”

Lucinda smiled lovingly at her daughter. When the woman walked, it was with a fluid grace. She glided through the room, brushing her long fingers against Hazel’s back as she passed her, coming to me.

“Please. Sit.” She told me. “Tell me, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

I glanced towards Hazel, stirring the soup at the stove. She gave me an encouraging smile.

“I don’t know if I have intentions with her,” I said slowly. “I can tell you that I love her. And we were both very excited to come and see you. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m surprised that Hazel hasn’t brought you here before. I was beginning to think that it wasn't actually serious. Tea?”

I blinked, looking at the tea service that she had somehow laid out in front of us. “I –” There was hesitation. Mainly because I remember Malcolm saying never to drink her tea. I glanced at the cup of tea steaming in front of me.

“Oh,” Lucinda said coyly. “I see.  You’ve been talking to my other child.”

“Malcolm, mother,” Hazel said from the stove.  “He comes over once a week.”

“Does he? That’s interesting. He never seems to have the time for me.” She pushed the tea forward. “Would you like to drink that or are you going to believe the rhetoric that I’m a witch.” She laughed slightly and I couldn’t help but feel the dare that was in her words.

The two of us stared at each other, playing a silent game of chicken while the steam from the tea coiled between us.

“Soups ready!” Hazel called from the kitchen.

Lucinda gave a small ironic laugh before rising to her feet. “Shall we eat?”

“I’ll get everyone served up, mother.”

Lucinda looked at me with a raised brow until I got up and went into the kitchen, helping Hazel.  Hazel bumped her hip against mine, dipping her head. “How’s it going?”

“It’s… going?”

“She likes you.”

Did she? It seemed like a wild assumption to make. I didn’t think I could say that to Hazel while her nerves were still frayed.

We ended up sitting at a large round table where a gorgeous centerpiece sat that put the flowers I brought to shame. They were off to the side, tiny in comparison and slightly drooping. Dinner was in relative silence where the sips of soup echoed throughout the room. Lucinda sat right across from us and barely said two words to me.  What she did say, was directed towards Hazel. The two of them discussed mundane things about the apothecary where Lucinda interceded several times about different customers and how Hazel should handle their orders instead.

It was an interesting back and forth. One where Hazel wouldn’t ask her mother for advice but it would be freely given anyway. Hazel would then listen in rapt attention as if she was wrong if she turned away from it.

When dinner ended, Hazel stood. “I’ll take care of the dishes.” With a peck on the cheek, she gathered everything, leaving Lucina and I alone again.

I gave a smile towards the woman, wracking my brain for something to say around her.

“You won’t last.”

To my credit, I didn’t startle. I instead just stared at her, waiting for an explanation. But Lucinda seemed to be the kind of woman who was going to wait it all out.  She wasn’t going to be the one to talk first.

“I disagree,” I told her firmly.

“I guess we’ll wait and see.  But I know my daughter and I know her well. And you two will not last. Hazel needs more direction in life. She needs someone to reign her in. I just don’t see you able to do that for her.”

Hazel was independent. She had run the apothecary most of her life and was one of the most caring individual’s I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Like anyone, she had her shortcomings. But so did I.  “I don’t believe in treating my partner like a child,” I said smoothly.

Lucinda tipped her head to the side. “Do you know what she is capable of? It is not treating someone like a child so much as it's protecting her. Protecting you. Protecting the market itself.”

“You really think your daughter would hurt anyone?”

“I think she wouldn’t have a choice.”

I was done. I wasn’t going to do this. Standing, I nodded towards her. “I think it would be best if we go.”

“That easily? Well, I thought it would take more but this is a pleasant surprise.”

Shaking my head, I turned my back on her. There was so much I could say but I just kept thinking of the nervous woman, meticulously picking flowers for her mother. Hazel was coming out of the kitchen area, ready to get more of the dishes, when she stopped.

“Oh,” she said with a small roundness to her lips. “Are we leaving?”

Lucinda was the one to answer, coming over to kiss her daughter on the cheek. “Bring your brother next time. And that one he is dating.”

Hazel’s eyes ticked away. “Of course. I’ll ask.”

It wasn’t until we were back on familiar streets that Hazel finally looked up at me, a nervous glow to her eyes. “What did she say?”

I had two options at this point. I could do what everyone had always done to Hazel. Try to point out the things that her mother said and did. Point out how she deflated each time Lucinda critiqued her. And I could point out Hazel’s silence.

Or, I could just be there for Hazel instead.

Tucking my hand in hers, I lifted it, brushing my lips across her knuckles. “We had an interesting talk. That’s all. I am excited to get home.”

“That bad?”

I stopped, the market bustling around us. Market goers veered out of the way as I tugged Hazel closer. “Do you know what I love about you?” I asked. She shook her head. “I love that no matter what, you see the best in people.”

“You’re deflecting,” Hazel whispered. But I noticed her blushing at the compliment, pressing closer to snuggle in.

“I am focusing on what’s important. Dinner with your mother, the things she says – all of that is not important. You are. We are.”

Popping up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against mine. I could feel her smile against me and the way her nose crinkled in delight.  “If you want, you could go see Malcolm later and bitch about her. Him and Milo would love it.”

I laughed. “I’ll think about it. Right now, I just want to get home and be with you.”

“And play cards?” she asked excitedly. “Oh! I have those marionberry muffins and we could have some of that with the homemade jam and I’ll beat you at cards tonight.”

“You don’t know if you’re going to beat me.”

Hazel looked at me sympathetically. “Oh, honey. That’s cute.” She kissed me again, squeezing my hands before turning to the stalls. I knew her. She was going to go overboard. Get us everything for our impromptu date night.

Lucinda was wrong. I wasn’t letting this girl go for the entire world.  And I’d fight the woman if she got in our way.

I had a feeling that that day was eventually going to come.