Page 1 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
MAY 8TH
“Damn, that was close,” I said pulling off my helmet, sweat cooling under my gear as me and my friend Halo stared at what used to be somebody’s living room. The fire was out, but adrenaline still buzzed through my veins. I lived for this. The rush of saving the structure was already giving way to something heavier. This was the part I hated about my job. When the reality of what this family had lost crept in, I felt the loss just as they did.
“At least we got it contained before it spread to the neighbors,” Halo said, yanking off her gloves. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Yeah, could’ve been worse.” It was a phrase we always said. But standing here looking at the destruction, knowing somefamily was about to come home to find their life turned upside down, it never felt like enough. It felt like this was worse.
Poor family.
“You good?” Halo asked, watching me check my phone again. I’d been doing that shit all day, waiting on that acceptance email. The wait was starting to wear my nerves thin. But I was remaining patient, maybe this meant I would be getting good news. Good things came to those who waited. Right?
Samaj: I’m good.
No emoji. No “love you.” No kiss my ass. Just those two cold-ass words as a text back from the person I gave birth to.
My jaw clenched.
Halo caught the shift in my expression before I could even hide it. “Samaj?”
I nodded, she already knew how bad he’d been giving me the blues trying to grow up too fast. “I texted to check on him. That was the response.”
“Whew. Teenagers,” she muttered, dragging her jacket off one shoulder. “Y’all good?”
I shrugged because what did good even mean these days. “He’s seventeen. I’m annoying. He thinks he’s smarter than me, and I’m trying not to pop him every other day. So, you know. Just vibes.”
She smiled, but it was soft. “Sis, he loves you, though. You know that, right?”
“Some days I feel it. Some days I feel like his warden. The delicate balance has alluded me. I don’t remember doing this to my dad.”
Me:Dinner at Sheena’s tonight. Be ready. Please don’t make me call you twice.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.
Typical.
“I don’t know,” I said, sliding my phone back in my pocket. “Lately, he’s been carrying something. Shoulders all heavy, attitude on a hundred. I swear he went from my sweet little boy to some grown man with secrets overnight.”
“He’s growing,” Halo offered gently. “And you’re doing your best, Mi. Hell, better than most because I’ll tell you right now at eighteen, hell even twenty, I was not raising no baby, you catch my drift? No disrespect.”
I nodded, but I didn’t feel reassured. Just tired. But I was slowly coming to terms that it was time to start living for myself. It was why I’d been checking my emails all day. I had pulled the trigger on applying to get back in school. Granted, it wasn’t my Master’s, but it was a start into my psychology degree and a push in the right direction. Plus, Samaj would be leaving for college soon, and I’d have more than enough time on my hands.
I loved being a firefighter, had been doing it for ten years, and would continue until I walked across the stage, but now my mind had shifted to all the things I’d missed being a single mom, actually a single sports mom. My life consisted of snack weeks, practice, and travel ball for years.
“Aye, Lieutenant!” Moya called out. “You coming back for spaghetti night?”
“Nah, I’m done after this. Got family dinner.” I checked my phone again. “Y’all be careful out there. It’s supposed to rain tonight.”
“Good luck with that,” somebody laughed.
“Always in mama mode,” Moya commented before I pushed him a little.
“Always,” I said with a laugh.
By the time I made it home, the rain had started. Again. I peeled off my turnout gear and stepped into my role as Samaj’s mama, part disciplinarian, part therapist, part punching bag,depending on the day. Verbal of course. Samaj would never lay a hand on me.
“Samaj, come on or we’re gonna be late,” I called out from the foyer, snatching my keys from the hook near the door. The metal was cold against my palm; still wet from the rain I’d walked through coming in. I’d been home for an hour, which had given me just enough time to shower, brush my teeth, and change out of my uniform into something comfortable for dinner tonight.
A few spritz of my Oakcha Sweet Addict perfume, a swipe of lip gloss, and I was ready to walk out the door in a simple pair of ripped jeans and a cropped hoodie. I gave myself another once-over in the mirror when I realized there was still no Samaj.
