4. Sametra
A WEEK LATER
“ G irl, sit your ass down,” Winnie said, shoving me back onto the couch as I tried to get up for the third time since they’d arrived twenty minutes ago. “You are supposed to be resting. Not trying to wipe down counters and shit.”
“I am resting,” I protested, but Halo shot me a look that said she wasn’t buying it either.
My body was almost back to normal—the bruised ribs had finally stopped screaming every time I moved, and the concussion headaches weren’t as sharp anymore.
But my car was totaled. There was so much sadness there.
I’d just paid that car off. It was so unfair how that always happened.
My Kia Telluride, Telly, was wrapped around a light pole like a paperclip.
The photos still made my stomach twist, so I stopped looking.
Not only was I hurt, but my son’s future was in limbo. He talked a big game about being done with baseball, but he was already texting coaches and talking about rehab. Which meant it mattered more than he let on.
“Resting is not pacing around this house like a damn lion in a zoo,” Halo said, setting a container of what smelled like her famous mac and cheese on the dining table. “You’ve been doing that all week.”
“I just hate being stuck here. I don’t do idle. I don’t sit around twiddling my thumbs. And I definitely don’t like feeling helpless,” I said, exhaling and settling back into the cushions. “Especially knowing what happened to everybody else. I walked away. A lot of them didn’t.”
That driver ran a red light going at least fifty, texting with one hand on the wheel.
By the time it was over, six cars were involved.
An elderly couple in a Honda got slammed from behind—the woman shattered her wrist, the man walked away dazed with a concussion.
A motorcyclist went down trying to swerve and avoid it all—road rash, busted collarbone.
Two teenagers in a Camaro spun into the median—one broke his nose, the other got stitched up and sent home.
I was the one who saw it coming too late. I braced. Samaj didn’t. His side took the hit. The kind of hit I’d seen a hundred times on duty. I never thought it’d be me strapped to the gurney. I never thought it’d be my kid in the trauma bay.
“All because some fool couldn’t put his phone down,” Winnie said, shaking her head as she unpacked her homemade cornbread and pot roast. “I heard his insurance company is having a field day with all the claims. The news said they haven’t ruled out that he’d been drinking.
Bastard better be lucky. I would’ve jacked his up out of that damn car and put belt to ass. ”
We laughed because Winnie wasn’t playing. Our friend was a kickboxer in her spare time.
“They should throw his ass under the jail,” Halo added. “Could’ve killed somebody. Could’ve killed y’all. And sis, you wouldn’t have to come down here and tell me to seek vengeance, know I was already plotting.”
“I love y’all for real. I appreciate the food, but a bitch ain’t paralyzed, I can cook. I need to start moving around anyway.”
My friends, bringing me food made me think of Malik ensuring I had dinner the other night and ensuring that the nurses and staff knew that I was allowed to come in after visiting hours. I appreciated small stuff like that.
“I’m aware that you can cook and you aren’t paralyzed, but you are also very much our best friend, so we don’t want you to cook or worry about any of that.”
“Y’all…” I cried, my voice trailing off. The reality of how close we’d come to losing everything still hit me at random moments. If that SUV had hit us head-on instead of clipping the passenger side, or if we’d been going just a little faster...
“Don’t do that,” Halo said, reading my expression. “Don’t start with the what-ifs . Y’all are here, y’all are healing, and that’s what matters.”
“How’s Samaj doing anyway?” Winnie asked, reminding me of how grateful I was. The only thing I cared about was Samaj being okay. “You talk to him today?”
“Every day. Multiple times.” I tried to sound casual, but the truth was I’d been going stir-crazy.
A week of being stuck at home while my son was in the hospital had me climbing the walls.
Sitting still had forced me to realize how full my life had become—and it wasn’t a good realization.
I’d filled my time with distractions and excuses to keep me from doing the things I wanted.
Samaj had practice, and I had work. Dinner with Daddy on Thursdays.
Cleaning and errands on the weekends. I was doing all the things, staying busy, staying moving, but none of it brought me real satisfaction.
I was just...existing. Going through the motions.
“He’s doing good, though. PT is going well, and his attitude is way better. I feel like I’m getting the old Samaj back.”
“And his fine-ass doctor?” Halo asked with a knowing smirk. “How’s he doing?”
Before I could tell her nosy ass to mind her business, my phone buzzed with a text. I glanced at it and immediately felt heat creep up my neck.
It was a picture of Samaj in his wheelchair, flexing his one good arm like he was showing off biceps, with a text.
Dr. Holloway: Come get your boy. Discharge papers cleared.
I couldn’t help but smile, and apparently my face gave me away because both Winnie and Halo were suddenly leaning over to see my phone.
“Oop!” Winnie said, grinning. “Look at MiMi blushing!”
“Who got you cheesin’ like that?” They demanded, trying to grab my phone, but I was quicker than them.
“Y’all are so nosy,” I said, standing up and grabbing my purse. “That was Dr. Holloway. Samaj is getting discharged today.”
“Today?” Winnie jumped up. “Girl, why didn’t you say that first? You need to get to the hospital! I know he ready to come home.”
“I can drive mysel-” I started to say until Halo cut me off, reminding me of the fact that I no longer had a car.
“With what car?” Halo reminded me. “Telly is in a junkyard somewhere. Come on, I’ll take you.”
Halo and I slid in her car, and I wanted so badly to tell her more about Malik, but I kept it cool, because she’d go running her damn mouth or being extra.
Twenty minutes later, I was walking through the familiar halls of St. Ambrose, my heart doing something stupid in my chest at the thought of seeing Malik again.
A whole week of phone calls and text updates, but seeing him face to face?
That was going to be different. I wondered if this was his normal way of handling business or if me and my son were special.
I smiled at the thought. And Samaj caught it.
“What you smiling about ma? I ain’t seen that smile in maybe forever.”
“This is my normal smile.”
“Nah, hoe that smile is called blushing. Let me find out,” Halo joked, popping Pringles in her mouth.
I was helping Samaj get settled into the wheelchair when I heard the voice that still haunted my nightmares.
“Damn, son. Look at you.”
I froze.
“I know you fucking lying to me,” Halo hollered like she had no damn sense, but she was right.
The devil was a liar, and ain’t no way this man had the audacity to show up here talking about ‘ son’ .
I almost swung Samaj’s hospital issued water jug upside his head , but I remained stoic.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing my mood shift.
We didn’t need him then , and we didn’t need him now.
He looked exactly like I remembered. It seemed nothing had changed.
Still tall, still as handsome as the day that he got me pregnant while I was supposed to be studying for exams. But now there was nothing there, nothing that gave me good feelings or vibes.
I could’ve gone the rest of my life never seeing him again.
“Dad?” Samaj questioned, sitting up.
“Hey, boy. Heard you got yourself banged up pretty good.” Ashe stepped into the room like he’d been called personally, like he had any right to be concerned about the son he’d abandoned before his first birthday.
I went back to helping my son get into the wheelchair. I had no time for Ashe. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want him even breathing on me. As far as I was concerned, he was dead to me.
“Y’all headed out?” he asked, attempting to help me.
“Yes, we are. We are headed to the home I’ve provided for him for seventeen damn years while you played hide and seek. What are you doing here, Ashe?”
He opened his mouth to say something smart but then closed it. He could tell I wasn’t in the mood, by my clenched fist and annoyed tone. I’d eat his ass up and spit him out if he tried anything with me.
“My son’s in the hospital. No time than the present to get my shit together.”
“Your son?” The words came out sharp enough to cut. “Your son? You haven’t been his father. You don’t get to claim him now.”
“MiMi…”
“Don’t.” My voice was deadly quiet. “Don’t you dare call me that. You lost the right to call me anything other than my name the day you walked out. I honestly don’t want you talking to me at all.”
Samaj was looking between us, confusion and hurt written all over his face. “Ma, it’s okay. I invited him.”
“You what?”
“I texted him when I woke up. Told him about the accident.” Samaj’s voice was small, apologetic. “I thought...I thought he would want to know.”
Ashe stepped closer to the bed, reaching out like he was going to touch Samaj, and I moved without thinking, putting myself between them. I didn’t want him near my son.
“Don’t get your head knocked off in here. I don’t care what he asked you to do. You go through me. Period. The same way you contacted him you could’ve contacted me. I’m not for the games, Ashe.”
My jaw was clenched, it hurt, it was so tight. I was so mad and doing my best to calm down before I lost my shit completely.
“He’s my son too, Sametra.”
“Technicalities that I just don’t give a fuck about. Crawl back to whatever hole you came from and stay there. Who do-,”
“Ma, please.” Samaj’s pained voice said.