3 | Samaj #2
I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly shy. “I, uh… had a chef make us some appetizers. I know you can’t stay long, but I wanted to make up for that McDonald’s situation.”
She laughed, and it hit me right in the chest.
“I never really eat like that,” I admitted.
“Oh, trust me, I noticed. You barely ate last night. Had me eating for both of us like a cow,” she teased.
Fast food was never my thing. Even as a kid, I was always a picky eater.
While Shiloh could destroy a twenty-piece nugget meal, I’d be side-eyeing the Big Mac like it offended me.
We were opposites in that way. But with Simone, I found myself doing things I normally wouldn’t.
Breaking the rules I made for myself. Doing things simply because her feelings mattered to me.
With her, I felt more alive than I had in a long time.
She took off her shoes and made herself comfortable.
Chef Noelle soon appeared with a spread of beautifully arranged appetizers.
Bruschetta, mini crab cakes, fried mac and cheese balls, and hot honey wings.
My family had used her in the past, so I knew her food was on point.
I made sure there was a variety of options, hoping there would be something she would enjoy.
“This is really thoughtful,” she said, smiling at me like I hung the moon.
“I’m glad you like it.” Because, for some reason, I really needed you to like it. I thought to myself.
“Here,” I said, handing her the gift.
“Read the note first though.”
“Are notes becoming our thing?” she said, looking at me with a flirty smile.
“Might be.”
Simone, I wish I could put into words what you did for me yesterday, it may have been one of the most thoughtful things a person has ever done for me. Thank you again and I hope you love this gift. It’s just a small token of my appreciation.
“Aww, this is too sweet!” she exclaimed before tearing into the gift bag. She wasted no time pulling out the tissue and removing the small box inside.
“Gifts are one of my love languages if you can’t tell.” She said laughing.
“With the way you were tearing up that tissue paper I kind of figured.”
“Samaj this is beautiful!” she said, admiring the bracelet.
“You like it?”
“I love it. Thank you. Can you put it on for me?” Nodding, I took the bracelet and secured the clasp on her wrist. “I noticed you might have a thing for turtles.”
She looked up at me and gave me a small smile.
“You’re very observant.” Just as quickly as the smile came, it faded. “
My parents took me to this Marine Life Center over the summer.
It was the last thing we did before they passed.
I don’t recall that whole day in detail, but the one thing that I remember vividly is the guided tour of the sea turtle conservatory.
Ever since then, I’ve developed this love for them.
I guess in a way it reminds me of my parents. I know that’s probably silly—”
“It’s not,” I assured her.
“I have something for you too,” she said going back to the front door where she left a shopping bag I hadn’t noticed before.
“You got me something?”
“Yup.” She pulled out a LEGO set, one of the big ones. “Since we didn’t have time to grab one yesterday.”
My chest warmed. I stared at her and for a moment I forgot how to speak.
“Maybe you should stay a little longer then,” I said quietly. “So, you can help me build it,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too thirsty.
She hesitated for only a second, then nodded. “Yeah… I can stay a little longer. Let me just text my cousins. We’re all going to the county fair tonight. We go every year the night before Thanksgiving. It’s become a family tradition at this point.”
“Okay, cool. That’s what’s up.”
The chef cleaned up and left shortly after.
We spent the next hour on my living room floor, legs crossed, LEGO pieces scattered everywhere.
She teased me about following the instructions too literally, and I teased her for struggling to build her pieces.
We laughed a lot. Every time her hand brushed mine, electricity shot straight through me.
Just when I thought we were having the perfect night my phone lit up.
Dad.
My dad was calling.
I ignored him, but he called again, which wasn’t like him.
“You should probably answer that,” Simone said.
I sighed, a little annoyed, but answered the call on speakerphone.
“Yeah?”
His voice came through worried and sharp.
“Samaj—where are you?”
“At home. Why?”
“It’s your mother,” his voice cracked. “She’s in the hospital. We need to head over there.”
This felt like Déjà vu.
My heart started racing. “What? What happened?”
“We’ll get into that later. Meet me at Clearview Hospital.”
Hospital.
Mom.
Tonight.
The words hit me in pieces.
“Okay,” I said quickly.
The call ended and silence filled the room.
Simone’s eyes were wide, full of concern.
“Samaj… I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“I—uh—I gotta go.”
“Of course,” she said, standing up quickly, gathering her things.
“Let me walk you to your car,” I said, my mind spinning, my chest tight. We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing down the quiet parking lot. She stayed right beside me close, but not crowding me. Just… present. When we reached her car, she turned toward me.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. The words slipped out before I could bite them back.
She stared at me for a second and then she did something I didn’t expect.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me and just hugged me. Warm and soft, yet steady. Like she wasn’t giving me a choice but to accept the comfort. I froze for a moment, but then my arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Can I pray for you?”
It caught me off guard but in a good way. No one had ever asked me that before. Not a girl. Not my homeboys. All I could do was nod. She held me tighter and started praying. Not loud or dramatic, just sincere.
“God, I ask You to please cover Samaj’s mother right now.
Let her be okay. Give the doctors wisdom, and when they don’t have the answers, step in and be the great physician that You are and let everything work out for her good.
Give Samaj strength. Give him a peace that can only come from You.
Give him traveling mercies from point A to point B in Jesus’ name, amen. ”
She pulled back slowly, her hands sliding down my arms until she was just holding my wrists.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. Text me when you make it there. Please.”
I nodded, eyes locked on hers. “I will.”
Less than fifteen minutes later, I had tossed a few items of clothing and my toiletries into my backpack and hopped in my car.
The entire ride, I kept having flashbacks of the day I received the phone call that my brother was in the hospital.
I remember the call like it was yesterday.
My phone rang in the middle of the afternoon while I was on campus, walking out of my Portfolio and Technical Communications class. I almost didn’t answer—I was tired, my head was somewhere else, but something in me told me to pick it up.
“Samaj… you need to get to the hospital.” My dad’s voice was tight and panicked.
“What? Why? What happened?” I asked, but part of me already knew I didn’t want the answer.
“It’s Shiloh,” he said. “He was in an accident.”
Fear hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe for a second. Fear of the unknown, fear of what I didn’t know yet, fear of what I might be walking into. I didn’t even ask more questions. I just ran. I sprinted across campus, got in my car, and drove like the world was ending.
Maybe for us, it was.
Walking into the hospital, I’ll never forget that feeling.
Hospitals already have this heaviness to them, but that day, it felt like the air was squeezing my lungs.
I saw my parents before they saw me, my mom sitting with her head in her hands, shaking, my dad rubbing her back.
My dad never cried. Ever. Not in front of us.
When they finally looked up, I knew things were bad.
Real bad. Shiloh was already in surgery by the time I got there.
They told me he’d been riding with one of his boys, and the car flipped.
His friend didn’t make it, not even a chance.
Hearing that alone made my knees buckle.
Two kids just trying to go somewhere. Two young boys who should’ve been planning the rest of their lives.
He went from surgery to ICU to life support in a matter of hours. The days leading to his death were just as heartbreaking. Seeing him hooked up to all of those machines was an image I still saw in my mind some nights when I closed my eyes.
And ever since that day, I’ve lived with this fear—a deep, quiet fear I don’t talk about—, that if I ever loved someone the way I loved my brother again and lost them, I wouldn’t survive it. I couldn’t bear going through that kind of pain twice.
When I arrived, I found my dad standing outside of her room waiting for me. He explained that my mom had tried to commit suicide. I was at a loss for words.
She was asleep when we arrived, and we decided to let her rest. Visiting hours were long over, however they allowed us to stay for a few minutes and catch up on everything.
I sat next to her bed holding back tears.
I hadn’t seen her in a couple of months, but I would text or call her every so often to check in.
I remember wanting to call her earlier today, and I hadn’t, but now I wish I would have because what if that had been my last time getting to speak to her?
What if I missed out on the chance to pull her out of the darkness she was drowning in?
Her doctor was talking to my dad, and everything around me felt unreal. I knew my mom struggled with Shiloh’s death and had been drinking lately, but I had no idea it would lead to her trying to take her own life.