6. Sametra
M alik surprised the hell out of me, in that chapel and outside of it.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.
Wasn’t him . Any man who had the confidence to make me want him the way I did had conquered Mount Everest. I was hard to reach but he’d reached out and touched me like a game of hide and seek.
His lowkey hood ass shocked me and smiling.
I liked that about him. He had just enough hood in him to let me know he had seen some shit, but he stayed professional.
And I loved that. I loved a man who could code-switch without losing himself or trying too hard.
I knew he didn’t have to try hard at anything.
There was nothing sexier than a man with self-control. One who knows when to show his teeth and when to fall back. A man who understood there was a time and place for everything and owned every room he walked into because of it.
I was in the kitchen cooking dinner for me and Samaj, and damn near burned the taco meat every time that kiss replayed in my mind.
That man was smooth. So smooth it forced me to make the first move.
His hands on my neck, hands that knew exactly where to press, had me melting.
That spot had been stiff and aching for days, no matter what I tried.
He touched it once, and suddenly I was cured.
I still couldn’t believe I kissed him. But he was close, in my space, all calm and collected, while my whole body was screaming. His hands made my neck feel like putty, and before I knew it, I was leaning in.
“Ma, the taco shells.”
“Shit,” I said before grabbing a mitten and removing the shells. They were burned to hell, and all I could do was laugh. Because that man had me completely off my square.
“Maj, grab those Doritos walking tacos it is.”
My phone vibrated against the counter. I wiped my hands and grinned at the name. I’d changed his name to something a little less professional.
Malik: What’s my family doing?
Me: Here you go, doing too much. LOL
Malik: Insubordinate. Doesn’t answer questions. And doing too much would’ve been me staying for dinner. Let me make it before I turn it up a notch.
Me: We are getting ready for dinner. Walkin Tacos. Happy? Wyd?
Malik: Eat. I’ll hit you later.
I slid the phone back onto the counter, hiding the smile on my face.
This was insane. I was too old to have a crush.
But Malik didn’t give off reckless or fast, but something about him screamed he’d put me through a mattress and coach me through it.
Real soft talk, locked eye contact, can’t-feel-your-legs-after type energy.
The way he looked at me while he massaged my neck sent flames through my body.
The massage felt so damn good. Malik knew exactly what he was doing.
That nigga wasn’t slick. When I kissed him, His mouth was soft but confident, like he knew exactly what I needed and wasn’t in a rush to give it all at once.
He kissed me like he’d been thinking about it all day, thorough and focused in a way that made my toes curl.
And God, he smelled good. Like fresh laundry, spice, and cocoa butter. The nigga smelled like black excellence.
He didn’t just kiss me, he dominated every sense I had.
The hand on my hip said so much. Malik said what he wanted, called me his lady, and didn’t leave room for second-guessing.
It felt good to be wanted like that. No games, no confusion.
Just a man making his intentions clear with his mouth, his hands, and that damn voice.
And the worst part about all of this I needed that in my life. Bad. I wanted it even more.
But life was complicated as hell right now.
The episode at the hospital wasn’t a one-off.
Being in a car scared the fuck out of me.
Seeing all that rain come down, fucked with me and I didn’t like it.
My hands still shook when I thought about the rain.
Every time I gripped a steering wheel, I braced for impact.
That crash rewired something in me, and I hated it.
So yeah, Malik had me feeling things, but I was still fighting to feel safe. That’s what made everything so damn confusing. But I needed to pull it together because I intended to talk to Samaj tonight about his father.
We sat at the table with our walking tacos while SportsCenter played on the TV.
“How you feeling about being home?” I asked, breaking open my bag of Doritos.
“Good. Real good.” He spooned meat and cheese into his bag. “PT with Dr. Holloway is helping a lot. He’s different from other doctors.”
“Different how?”
“He doesn’t talk to me like I’m a kid. Tells me straight up what’s gonna hurt, what’s gonna help, what I need to do to get better. He even likes some of the same music I like.” Samaj took a bite, thinking. “And he cares about you, too. I can tell.”
My cheeks warmed. “Samaj...”
“I’m just saying, Ma. I see how y’all look at each other. And honestly, I’m cool with it. You deserve somebody who treats you right. College or not, I’ll be leaving soon. I want you to have someone to do life with.”
“Speaking of people who treat me right...” I set down my food. “We need to talk about your dad.”
His expression shifted, became more guarded. “What about him?”
“About what you want to do. About him wanting to be in your life now.”
Samaj set down his bag of chips and looked at me. “You mad about me inviting him?”
“I was. I’m not gonna lie to you about that.” I took a breath. “But I also owe you an apology. I went too hard at the hospital. That was between me and him. I shouldn’t have put you in the middle of it.”
“Ma, you were protecting me. You always do. I should’ve told you, but so much has been going on.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before, earlier, that you were talking to him? We could’ve navigated it together.”
“Because I knew you would blow up. And I didn’t know if he would show up, so I never mentioned the hospital. He said he lived out of state, but he never said where.”
“Yeah, but protection and control are two different things. And what I did the other day was more about control.” I leaned back in my chair. “You’re seventeen, Maj. You’re old enough to make some decisions for yourself, even if I don’t agree with them.”
He nodded slowly, but I could see something building behind his eyes.
“But here’s what I need you to understand,” I continued. “If you decide you want a relationship with him, it has to be real. Not some fantasy about who you want him to be.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because showing up at the hospital after seventeen years isn’t the same as being a father. Sending a few text messages isn’t the same as being there when you were sick, or at your games, or when you needed help with homework.”
Samaj’s jaw tightened. “I’m not stupid, Ma.”
“I didn’t say you were…”
“But that’s how you’re talking to me!” He pushed back from the table. “Like I’m some little kid who doesn’t understand anything. Like I’m gonna get my hopes up and get hurt.”
“Samaj, that’s not…”
“You did the same thing with the streaming. With college. With everything.” His voice was rising. “You act like I can’t make my own decisions, like I’m gonna mess up my whole life if you’re not there controlling everything.”
I massaged my temple. Why did kids always go to control?
They bypassed safety, concern, and our lived experiences.
This was not about control, this was about protecting the condition of his heart during and after Ashe played in his face.
But I couldn’t say all that without sounding like I was lecturing him again.
“I’m not trying to control you, but I am trying to make sure you have a future. One that’s healthy and free of unnecessary let downs.”
“You’ve been doing it my whole life, and I get it, you had to when I was little. But I’m not little anymore, Ma. I can think for myself.”
“I know you can think for yourself. But thinking and experiencing are two different things. I’m trying to protect you from getting hurt by someone who’s already hurt you once.”
“Maybe I need to get hurt!” He leaned up, frustration written all over his face.
I felt terrible realizing how much Samaj had always wanted a father figure.
My dad was around, but he was my dad, not the same thing.
And it didn’t help that Samaj looked exactly like Ashe.
My genes didn’t even try to fight back. But this is exactly why I reacted the way I did.
There should be nothing in this world that my son wanted that his parents didn’t try and provide for him. That included our presence and time.
Again, fuck Ashe.
“Okay, sit and finish eating.”
Samaj relaxed. He wasn’t ready to be standing on his feet with no assistance; he needed to be careful.
And I didn’t want to argue. Especially about his father.
I refused to let him ruin my peace. No hell no.
We finished dinner in silence until I helped him to his room.
That was not how I planned for our conversation to go.
I intended for him to hear me as I heard him.
I stepped onto my back patio and stared at Malik’s last text message.
I wanted to talk to someone, and I had been leaning on Winnie and Halo heavily.
They hated Ashe and felt like I should be asking for a restraining order in fear of his motives.
Malik seemed like he had all the right words, and I needed the right words right now. Not suggestions of violence.
I dialed his number because I was running from him, but I wasn’t a scary bitch at all.
I liked him, but I had so much going on that trying to fall in love would result in one of us getting hurt.
And it typically ended with that being me.
But friendship I could give. Conversations on the phone I had that in surplus.