15. Sametra
S aying I loved Malik was an understatement.
This man was so special, so attentive, so loving, and genuine with me.
He made me feel like I could conquer the world alone one day and be completely vulnerable the next.
We fit together in ways I didn’t know where possible, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally.
He challenged me, supported me, and loved me exactly as I was while encouraging me to become who I wanted to be.
Even the little moments had become magical with him.
Like when we went to the Pinnacles game and ended up on the kiss cam, that video had gone viral, with people commenting about how in love we looked.
My notifications had been blowing up for days with strangers saying we were “couple goals” and asking when the wedding was.
It was overwhelming but also sweet, seeing our love through other people’s eyes.
Malik had screenshots of some of the comments and sent them to me with laughing emojis, especially the ones calling him “the luckiest man alive.”
The whole experience of being courtside, meeting Davinci, feeling like we belonged in those exclusive spaces, had shown me a glimpse of the life Malik wanted to build with me. A celebrated, spoiled, and loved-out-loud life.
I’d been in school for a month, and things had been going better than I could have imagined.
As promised, Malik was taking me and Samaj to meet his mother.
It was their family reunion, so me, Samaj, and Malik were headed to Huntsville, Alabama, for the first time.
This was their normal tradition, and it felt incredible to be part of his world now.
Things had been better than good, scary good.
But I was learning to roll with it instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Malik was a good man.
The flight into Nashville was quick. We rented a car and then drove the rest of the way.
Which was about two hours. The drive to his mom’s had been filled with laughter, music, and Samaj asking a million questions about Malik’s childhood.
My son had been so excited about this trip, and seeing him bond with Malik filled my heart in ways I couldn’t describe.
They had their own relationship now, built on mutual respect and genuine affection. It had nothing to do with me.
“Ma, you nervous?” Samaj asked from the backseat as we pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story brick house with a wraparound porch and flower boxes under every window.
“A little,” I admitted, smoothing down my skirt for the tenth time. I hoped it said “respectful future daughter-in-law” without trying too hard.
“Don’t be,” Malik said, squeezing my hand. “She’s gonna love you. She already does, just from what I’ve told her.”
Before I could respond, the front door opened, and a petite woman with the same warm eyes as Malik stepped onto the porch.
Yolanda Holloway was exactly what I’d expected and nothing like I’d imagined all at once.
She was smaller than me, with silver-streaked hair braided to the back in a neat bun.
Yolanda Holloway was absolutely gorgeous for almost seventy.
“There’s my baby boy!” she called out, and I watched this strong, confident man I loved turn into a little boy as he jogged up the steps to sweep her into a hug.
“Hey, Mama,” he said, lifting her off her feet slightly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, son.” She pulled back to look at him, cupping his face like she was checking to make sure he was really there. Then her eyes moved to me and Samaj, who were hanging back by the car.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said with a warm smile. “Come on up here and let me meet my new family.”
My heart fluttered at the word “family,” and I felt Samaj squeeze my shoulder as we walked up the porch steps together.
“Mama, this is Sametra, my girlfriend,” Malik said, his arm sliding around my waist. “And this is Samaj, our son.”
“Lord, you’re even prettier than the pictures,” Yolanda said, pulling me into a hug that felt like coming home. “And look at this handsome young man. You both are just beautiful.”
“Thank you for having us, Ms. Holloway,” I said, meaning every word. “Your home is lovely.”
“It’s Yolanda, baby. And this is your home now too. My doors are always open.” She turned to Samaj. “How you feeling, sweetheart? Malik told me about your recovery. You look strong as an ox.”
“Yes ma’am, I’m doing really good. Dr. Holloway, I mean, Malik, he’s been taking good care of me and Ma.”
“I can see that,” she said, glancing between Malik and me with knowing eyes. “Y’all come on in. I’ve got dinner almost ready, and I want to hear everything.”
“What’s for dinner, ma?”
“Malik, you better get out of my pots and away from my stove.” I snickered because I had to tell him and Samaj the same thing often.
As we settled into her cozy living room, filled with pictures of Malik at every stage of his life, I felt the warm embrace of a mother’s love. Not just for her son, but extending to me and mine.
As Malik sat beside me, his hand resting on my thigh while his mama told embarrassing stories about his childhood, I realized I wasn’t just falling deeper in love with him every damn second.
Samaj and Malik had gone outside to get our luggage, and it was just me and his mom. We’d moved to the kitchen. It was quiet, but that was okay. When he asked me to come meet his mama, I didn’t hesitate. I knew we’d have our moment like him and my father had. That was this moment.
“His country ass been good to you, huh?” Yolanda asked giving me that eye.
“Oh yes, ma’am. He’s an amazing man. Patient, kind. So kind,” I said with a sigh that came from deep in my chest.
She began to giggle, fanning herself with her hand. “Whew, I’ve been there before. That charm is something else.” I felt my cheeks warm as I laughed with her. “I’m glad he’s treating you right. That’s what I’d better hear.”
“No complaints here. You raised a hell of a man, Ms….I mean, Yolanda.”
“I tried my best. Wasn’t always easy, especially when he got to thinking he was grown.
” She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on that conspiratorial tone mothers get.
“But he’s got a good heart. Always has. I’ve been wanting that heart to be in good hands for so many years. I think it’s found its home.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” I admitted softly.
“I can tell. You got that same look he gets when he’s talking about you.
Like you can’t quite believe your luck.” She reached over and patted my hand.
“Y’all look good together, girl. I watched you get out of that car and I understood why my son was smitten and ready to go against anyone about you.
You’re beautiful, Sametra, and I can tell that soul of yours matches. ”
My mind started to wander. I wanted to ask her what that meant, dig a little deeper, but the heavy screen door creaked open just then.
The boys were back, laughing and talking as they came inside.
We were sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping tea, trying to keep cool.
This southern end-of-July heat was no joke.
I’d never felt anything like it in my life, sticky, heavy, the kind that stole your breath.
“Ma, where you want me to put Samaj’s stuff?” Malik called out.
“The guest rooms for Sametra and Samaj are upstairs. And yours goes next to my room, down the hall second door on the right.”
Malik appeared in the doorway with a grin. “Just so we’re clear, Mama, my woman sleeps where I sleep. No need for two rooms.”
“Boy!” Yolanda swatted at him while I buried my face in my hands, mortified.
“Mama, I’m grown, and she’s grown. We’re in love. You want grandkids or not?”
“Malik Jerome!” I gasped, but I was laughing despite my embarrassment.
Samaj appeared behind him, shaking his head. “Y’all are something else. Can we eat now? I’m starving, and whatever Ms. Yolanda’s cooking smells incredible.”
“Let’s eat,” Yolanda said as the timer went off in the kitchen. “And Malik, we’ll discuss your sleeping arrangements later.”
“Ma, my psychologist, Dr. Sametra Andrews, said I have separation anxiety. I gotta be with my woman. That’s what the doctor said.”
“The answer was no earlier, and it’s no now. Ain’t nobody hunching under my roof but me.”
My eyes went wide at him. He said I played too much, but it was him with all the damn jokes and games. I never said that, but he always knew how to pull a smile out of me.
“Aye!” Malik screamed, covering his ears before laughing and sucking his teeth. “It better not be, Mr. Robb. I told him ain’t no sugar to borrow over here. It ain’t changed. Better take his snaggle toothed ass on.”
“Boy, you oughta try minding your business,” she said as she popped him upside the head while Samaj and I laughed. “Mr. Robb is here helping me fix my sink and unclog my toilet when you ain’t around.”
She looked over at me and winked. I smiled and covered my mouth as we shared a moment. I knew unclog my toilet was code word.
We sat down at her beautifully set table and prepared to eat.
The food smelled absolutely amazing. She had smoked Cornish hens that looked golden and perfect, green beans that just came off the smoker, they still had a little snap to them, corn on the cob dripping with butter, creamy mashed potatoes, and corn fritters that were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
“Ms. Yolanda, this looks so good,” I said, genuinely amazed. “You put your foot in this.”
“Thank you, baby. I wanted to make sure y’all felt welcomed.” She looked at Samaj. “Now, you tell me if anything’s too spicy or if you need anything else, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Everything looks perfect.”