Page 75 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
“Damn, he really got it bad,” Eli said, shaking his head. “Remember when you used to say you’d never get married because women were too complicated?”
“I was young and stupid. I didn’t know what I was saying. And hell, they are complicated, I’m just not lazy anymore. Anything worth having is worth working for,” I said schooling them. “Like Sametra, she gets turned off by stuff quick. One week its Swedish Fish this and that, and the next its fuck Swedish Fish. I stand behind her on that. Fuck Swedish Fish.”
We laughed for a good five minutes because they understood. Sametra would be obsessed with something one week and act like a toddler about the next. Shit was wild, women had shit with them, but my baby was worth all that. It was whatever she wanted, when and how she wanted it. It was crazy but I was crazy about her, so let’s call it a balance.
“You were twenty-eight, nigga,” Dre laughed. “That wasn’t that long ago. What was it you used to say? ‘I ain’t built for all that relationship drama.’?”
“It was eat it, beat it, delete it, right?”
I remembered those conversations, sitting on this same porch after family gatherings, watching my cousins go throughbreakup after breakup. Back then, I thought I had it all figured out. Focus on my career, keep things simple, and don’t get too attached. I’d seen too many good men get their hearts broken by women who didn’t appreciate what they had. Or stick around for the money.
“That was before her,” I said, turning back to them. “Before I met someone who makes sure she shows she loves me back.”
“Look at this nigga getting all philosophical,” Eli teased.
“Babies in the mix? Cuz, she looks cute with one.” I looked back over to Sametra and sure enough, she was playing peak a boo with my cousin’s daughter. The thought of Sametra carrying my kids shot fire through me. I could picture it, her with a little belly, complaining about her feet hurting while I rubbed them.
“Yo, Dr. Holloway,” Samaj called out, walking over to our group with a dap for everyone in the group. “Can I holler at you for a minute?”
Something in his tone made me look at him closer. He’d stopped calling me Dr. Holloway a while ago. This wasn’t the casual, joking energy he’d had all weekend. This was serious.
“Yeah, man. What’s up?”
“Privately,” he said, glancing at my cousins and then back at me.
Dre, Eli, and Marlon took the hint, dapping us up before heading toward the domino table. I followed Samaj to a quieter spot near the edge of the property, under a big oak tree that provided some shade and distance from the party.
“Aight, what’s on your mind,” I said, settling into one of the lawn chairs someone had set up.
Samaj looked around to make sure we couldn’t be overheard, then fixed me with a look that reminded me so much of his mother it was scary. Same intensity, same way of cutting straight through the bullshit to get to the truth.
“I heard part of your phone call earlier. At Ms. Yolanda’s house.”
My jaw tightened. “Oh yeah? How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know my father’s in some kind of trouble. And enough to know you’re thinking about doing something about it.” He paused, studying my face with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “I want the truth, Dr. Holloway. Man to man.”
“First, what I tell you about that Dr. Holloway shit? When it’s me and you, it’s Malik. We ain’t strangers, we family.”
“My bad, but still. I need to know what’s really going on. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be around.”
I looked at this seventeen-year-old kid. I mean this young man, standing in front of me and made a decision. He was almost grown, and he’d been through enough to handle some hard truths. More importantly, he deserved to know what was happening with his own father, but especially his mother. I understood that Samaj would be like a son to me, but he wasn’t a baby. I didn’t see him the same way Sametra did. In my eyes, this was a grown man who could handle grown man conversations.
The way he carried himself, the way he’d stepped up during his recovery, the way he looked out for his mother, didn’t show me signs of a man who couldn’t handle the truth. Samaj had been forced to mature faster than most kids his age. Growing up without a father and watching his mother struggle had a way of doing that. He’d already proven he could handle responsibility and make hard choices.
“You sure you want this conversation?” I asked, giving him one last chance to walk away from what was about to be said. He’d be hurt, naturally, but he needed to know. Or maybe not. I didn’t care because it was fuck Ashe.
“I’m sure. I been knowing something was off about him trying to come around. I wanted her to be wrong.”
“Your pops owes some dangerous people money. A lot of money. And when he couldn’t pay, he tried to use pictures of me and your mom to blackmail me instead.”
Samaj’s face darkened. “Pictures?”
“Pictures he took while stalking us. Private moments that weren’t his business.” I kept my voice calm, but I could see the anger building in his eyes, the same protective rage that built in mine. “He threatened to ruin my career and embarrass your mother if I didn’t pay him.”
“That’s why he was really trying to reconnect with me,” Samaj said quietly, more to himself than to me. “Not because he missed me. Because he needed money.”
“I’m sorry, man. I know that’s hard to hear. But in his defense, I do believe before the accident, he was being genuine about wanting to know you. I don’t know.”
