6. Sametra #2
“To what do I owe this surprise, MiMi? Or do you like LT more?” his sultry voice came through the phone, and I leaned back into my wicker patio furniture. I could picture the smirk on his perfect face.
“I honestly don’t know why I called. Me and Maj kinda had a spat. And you’ll call me whatever you want to call me anyway. Do you.”
“Do me, huh?” His laugh was low, causing the hair on my neck to stand. “What’s up with you and the homie? Bum ass bothering y’all?”
“Yeah, bum ass,” I replied with a laugh that made me snort. “He’s not hearing me, and I feel bad that he wanted a father figure this whole time.”
“Every little boy wants that, and we want it to be ours, way more than a replacement. I don’t know why we were wired that way. There’s nothing for you to feel bad about.”
“So, you wanted your dad also. Did you know him?”
“No, I didn’t know my pops. But of course, I wanted him. The thing is, sometimes you can’t escape it. It’s around you, nagging you, making you doubt yourself. You see it in the stands; you see it at the store. Be easy on him, but yourself too.”
“I know all about that in my own way.”
“How so?”
“My mom abandoned me and left my dad to raise me. I missed a ghost. But as I got older, I realized I missed a facade, an idea. I guess girls are different. By fourteen, I was over wondering about her and her absence. Thank God I had my stepmom.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“My dad did just fine.”
“He did. And Congratulations on getting into school. I heard you, but didn’t get to acknowledge it earlier. I got lost in them eyes.”
“Thank you. I haven’t told anyone but you.”
I palmed my forehead, blushing. I was so glad he couldn’t see me.
As the words hung in the air, I realized how true they were.
I hadn’t even told my dad yet, or Halo and Winnie.
But something about Malik made me want to share my good news with him first. Maybe it was the way he listened without trying to fix everything or telling me what I should do.
Or maybe it was because he seemed genuinely excited about my future, not worried about how it would affect him.
“Damn, LT baby, I feel special. How can I help you, though?”
And there it was again, that offer to help without strings attached. No judgment, no conditions, just a genuine desire to make my life easier. When was the last time someone had offered me that?
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. “
“Are you flirting with me again?”
“Is it working? Because if so, hell yeah. I’m just saying you’re thinking about it too much, and I didn’t mean sexual. I fuck with you, let me help you.”
“I don’t want to take your help, wear you down, and realize I can’t give you what you want.”
“That sounds a lot like quid pro quo, and I ain’t said nothing about that. Anything I do for you, any mountain I move, any valley I cross, would be because I want to do that for you . Heavy on the you . You feel me?”
“Damn, you’ve left me stumped twice today. When I know what I need from you… heavy on the you , I’ll let you know,” I mocked with a small laugh.
“Why you stumped though? What I do?”
I took a breath, trying to find the words.
“Because... I’m not used to this. Men don’t talk to me like you do.
They don’t handle me the way you handled me today.
In the chapel, when you drove us home, even right now on this phone.
” I paused, feeling vulnerable. “You got this confidence that makes me want to do whatever you say, and that scares the hell out of me.”
“Why does it scare you?”
“Because I think like it too much. I like how you take charge without asking permission. I like how you make decisions and expect me to follow. I like that you called me your lady.” My voice got quieter. “And I’ve never been the type to like that kind of thing, and I barely know you.”
“But you do like it. Let’s get that established.”
“Yeah, I do. And that’s the problem. You got me off my square, Dr. Holloway. Got me burning taco shells and forgetting my own name. I don’t know how to be the woman you make me want to be and still be the mother Samaj needs.”
“Who said you had to choose?”
The question hung between us, simple but loaded because who said I had to choose.
“You say that now.”
“Baby, you have a man on your hands. You ain’t ever gonna have to pick between me and the child you carried nine months and went through a terrible labor for.
I ain’t competing with your kid. I’m not afraid of loving you with a kid.
I’m always going to know my part in that.
We grown. I’m grown. And my mans is almost a grown man, he wants you to be happy.
The question is, do you want to be happy? ”
I didn’t say anything else about the topic. I was making excuses, and I knew it. Samaj had already told me he wouldn’t mind if I started dating. I just wasn’t sure I was ready.
Our conversation flowed effortlessly. He was funny, wise, and had just enough street in him to keep me interested. We talked about everything: my going back to school, my major, and my end goal. He asked questions and gave me so much encouragement when I began to wonder how I could do it all.
“What do you really want to do when you get this degree?” he asked.
“Work with kids who’ve been through trauma.
Kids like Samaj, dealing with abandonment, family issues, and PTSD.
At work, I see kids who have just lost everything in fires, accidents, and emergencies.
We save their lives, put out the flames, but who takes care of them after?
Who helps them process that pain of losing everything before it turns into something else? ”
“That’s beautiful, Sametra. You’re gonna be good at that.”
“How you know?” I asked, stretching my legs up and leaning back in the patio chair.
I wanted him to keep talking, keep feeding me compliments.
They sounded so sweet rolling off his tongue.
How old was I acting? I was in dangerous territory, and I could feel it.
The way he affected me was giving me a rush.
“Because you’ve been through it. And because you care enough about other people to put your own healing on the back burner.”
His accusation made my lips twist and me sit up. “I’m not putting my healing on hold. I was cleared; I have you know.”
“You know what I mean. When’s the last time you ditched the schedule, the titles, and just got to be Sametra Jonelle? A step further, when’s the last time you put yourself first?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“That’s what I thought.” His voice got softer. “You deserve to be taken care of too, LT. You deserve to be somebody’s priority.”
“Malik...”
“I’m just saying. When you’re ready to let me show you what that looks like, I’m here. Night LT.”
“Night. See you Saturday.”
After we hung up, I sat on my patio for a long time, thinking about what he said.
About being someone’s priority. About letting myself be taken care of.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think I deserved it.
I always did. I always wanted it. I thought I’d have that with Ashe.
We talked about marriage, a home, and a future that included kids, a dog to protect the house, maybe a pool, and a trampoline.
But then real life hit, sleepless nights, a crying baby, messy buns, and takeout, and he dipped.
Took all those promises with him. It all sounded cute until the ugly truth slapped two new parents in the face.
I’d see how this date went this weekend and go with the flow. No need to overthink it. Not yet, anyway.