Page 69 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
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 theporch. 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.
