10 | Simone #2
“Are you nervous?”
My voice came out weak. “It’s that obvious huh? I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
He laughed softly. “Baby, it’s just my parents.”
“That’s exactly why I’m about to pass out.”
“Don’t worry about it. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”
I don’t know if he realized what he’d said. I didn’t even have time to respond, because he was already taking the things I brought out of the passenger seat. He used his other free hand to lead the way, his touch steadying me just enough to keep me from running back to the car.
The back patio lights glowed warm against the evening sky, and his parents were already setting the table. When they saw me, both of them smiled big, genuine, and welcoming.
Even so, my heart was racing. His dad shook my hand first. He was just as tall as Samaj but had a little more weight on him. He had kind eyes and a calm presence.
His mom hugged me before I even knew what to do with my arms. She was on the shorter side and petite, but I could already tell her personality could fill every room she entered.
My mind drifted to my parents and the fact that Samaj’s parents knew them. I wanted to ask them questions and pick their brains, but then I’d have to disclose my identity and relationship with them. Not to mention everything GiGi and my aunt talked about.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said and I swear she meant it.
“Nice to meet you too.” I replied.
We sat down for dinner and made small talk and then his mom brought out a big dish and set it on the table. The smell was all too familiar.
“I made Samaj’s favorite. I hope you like it.” When she removed the top off the dish I came face to face with an exact replica of one of my GiGi’s famous dishes.
It was one we all loved but she would only make it on special occasions. It was pan fried blackened red snapper with a creamy Cajun sauce that all sat on top of a bed of the fluffiest coconut rice. I tried to calm my nerves. There is no way this is the same dish. Maybe I’m mistaken.
“This looks amazing,” I said, trying to get past the lump in my throat.
His mom beamed. “An old friend taught me how to make it back when I was pregnant with Samaj. A woman who was like a mother to me… really close to my heart.”
My breath hitched but I don’t think anyone noticed. But I felt that sentence was like a punch.
Mr. Stephans looked like the conversation made him a little uncomfortable too, but I wasn’t sure why. When I bit into it there was no denying this was my GiGi’s dish and any other day, I would’ve enjoyed it but, at that moment, I really wished we were eating something else.
The dinner continued with small talk and a few laughs. I watched his parents interact, and my nerves finally eased until his parents slipped into a small argument over something silly. The tension hit quickly, stiff, and sharp. Samaj slid his hand onto my thigh beneath the table.
“You, okay?” he whispered.
I nodded even though the space suddenly felt heavier. They tried to cover it up with smiles and lighter conversation, but I wasn’t convinced. Suddenly the sky filled with rain, and we moved our dinner inside to keep dry.
“I’m going to start cleaning up.” Mrs. Stephans said.
“I can help.” I offered.
“No, it's OK. You and Samaj can go hang out in the living room. I’ll help her clean up. We have plenty of leftovers. If you want to take some home I’ll set some aside for you.” Mr. Stephans replied.
“Ok thank you and thank you for having me over.”
Samaj and I transitioned to the living room where we watched TV.
“Your parents were really nice.”
“I’m happy you got to meet them. Do you think your parents would’ve liked me?”
“Yeah I think they would’ve. My dad was outgoing and full of life. My mom is more chill and reserved, but with a big heart.”
“Seems like you’re the perfect mix of both.”
One thing I loved about being around Samaj was that we could have casual, carefree conversations, we could sit in a comfortable silence enjoying each other’s company, and on nights like this we could also have deep and intimate conversations.
He was still guarded when it came to speaking about his mom or his brother, but I decided to practice patience when it came to those more sensitive topics.
Within the hour the rain quickly transformed from a light tap against the windows into a heavy downpour.
“I should probably head out before it gets too bad out there,” I said softly, standing from the couch and reaching for my purse.
Samaj’s head snapped up so quickly it startled me.
“Nah,” he said immediately. Too quickly. Too firmly. “Just wait it out.”
I blinked. “It’s a thirty-minute drive and it’s already getting late. I’ll text you when I make it home.”
Another loud crack of thunder echoed outside. His jaw tightened instantly.
“Simone.” He was now up from the couch as well.
“The roads are probably getting bad already.”
“I’ll drive carefully.” I reassured him.
He walked away from me and started pacing back and forth across the living room with his cell phone in his hand.
“The weather app says the thunderstorm will last for about three more hours. You can’t drive.”
“I’ve driven in the rain before, I’ll have on my high beams and drive below the speed limit.”
He stopped moving for a second but didn’t look at me. His voice was shaking, “please… just…stay.”
Lighting flashed across the sky lighting up the room.
“I’ll stay.”
I saw some of the tension leave from his shoulders instantly, but it wasn’t completely gone. Next thing I know he’s making a phone call.
“Aye, where you at?” He questioned with just as many nerves as he had before.
“Kadeem, I don’t have time to play with you right now. Stay your behind home. I’ll hit you up later.” With that he hung up the phone shaking his head.
“Samaj,” I said carefully. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He rushed out.
He wasn’t. Not even close. He still didn’t bother looking at me. Instead, he stood at the window staring at the rain.
I approached him cautiously. I touched his arm gently.
“Talk to me please.”
“It’s raining pretty bad. I… I don’t think you should drive is all.”
From his body language and possibly all of the psychology courses I’ve taken I could tell this wasn’t simply concern. This seemed like something deeper. Like a trauma response to crippling fear.
I nodded. “I can understand that. I’m happy that you care enough to want me to be safe.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked at me then back out the window. “I know it’s crazy. I know people drive in rainstorms all the time but—,” he let out a frustrating sigh. I rubbed slow circles across his back hoping to soothe some of the anxiety he was feeling.
“It’s Okay Samaj.”
“No, it’s not. I know it’s irrational. I know I can’t control everything, but every time it starts storming, I have to make sure the people I care about are safe and not out on the road.”
Now the few times I’d seen him check the weather or mention the possibility of it raining made more sense to me.