Page 97 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
Contrary to what it might have seemed, I loved and appreciated my mom more than anything. I knew she had sacrificed everything to make sure I never went without, not just my needs, but my wants too. Her being with Malik had given me some freedom and responsibility I’d never had before. Years ago, I used to think I’d hate whoever my mom eventually got serious with. Some of the guys she dated casually, I didn’t like, but Ma rarely brought anyone home anyway. She couldn’t hide Dr.Holloway from me, though, because I could see it in both their faces the first time they met. The way they looked at each other was different. The way he talked to her was different.
“How’s my favorite girl? And how you let her go to work?” Malik asked, glancing at me as we hit a red light.
I knew he was fishing for information about Ma’s mood, and I didn’t mind being the messenger, although I’d rather not be the middleman. “I was at practice. She didn’t tell me either. But she’s not as mad as she was. And she’s probably at home eating popcorn, jalapenos, and ice cream, watching Cry Baby for the thousandth time. I’m so sick of that movie and Hatchet Face.”
Malik chuckled. “Together? and it’s her comfort movie. That’s another thing you gotta let her have. What else is going on with her?”
“Together,” I confirmed, looking over at him with a look of disgust at her snack choices. “She’s still in her feelings about the secret-keeping, but school is going good. She’s been taking her vitamins too.”
That’s what I liked about Malik, whatever my mama wanted, he made sure she had. It didn’t matter how crazy or repetitive it seemed, like his support of her watching the same damn movie over and over again. He wasn’t doing it for clout or to impress her. It was just his nature to take care of the women in his life, to pay attention to the little things that made them happy. I was learning that from him, too—that real love meant caring about someone’s comfort, even when it didn’t make sense to you.
“Can’t blame her for that. How you been holding up, though? With everything that’s been happening?”
I thought about it for a minute. Honestly, the past few weeks had been crazy. The fight between them, finding out about the baby, and learning the truth about Ashe. But somehow, I felt more settled than I had in months. I had a plan and support.
“Honestly? Better than I expected. The whole thing with Ashe,” I refused to call that man my dad or father anymore. He’d lost what little respect I had for him. “It hurt at first, but it also gave me clarity, you know?”
“How so?”
“Like, I was about to waste my time giving him a real chance, and his intentions weren’t even genuine. Finding out he’s got four other kids and a wife he never mentioned? I’m good on bruh. I don’t gotta wonder if it was something wrong with me anymore—he’s just a piece of shit.”
The relief I felt saying that out loud was real. For years, I’d carried this weight, wondering what I’d done wrong to make my father leave. Now I knew it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him being a sorry excuse for a man. I’d even almost let him convince me to go against my own mother, which should have been my first red flag. I realized now that if he was serious about being my father, he never would’ve even thought of suggesting something like that.
Again, Malik was showing me the difference between a man and someone just claiming to be one. From day one, Malik made it clear that nothing should ever come between me and my relationship with Ma. A real man didn’t try to divide families—he strengthened them.
Malik nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “That’s real mature of you to see it that way.”
“I mean, I had good examples of what a real man looks like. Papa Dale, you, and even some of the coaches at school. Ashe just wasn’t built like that.” I paused, thinking about something that had been helping me process everything. “Plus, I’ve been streaming my recovery process, and a lot of people have been sharing their stories about absent fathers. Made me realize I’m not alone in this.”
“You been streaming your recovery?”
“Yeah. I started it after I got out of the hospital. Figured it might help other people going through similar stuff—the physical therapy, dealing with depression, learning to walk without assistance again. It’s been therapeutic, honestly.”
What I didn’t tell him was how much the streaming had saved me mentally. Those first few weeks after the accident, I felt useless. Watching Ma stress about bills, about my recovery, about keeping me motivated when I wanted to give up. The streaming gave me purpose when I felt like I had nothing to contribute.
“That’s dope. Proud of you. How many people watching?”
“I’m up to almost five thousand now. Some of them are other athletes dealing with injuries, some are just people who needed to see that you can bounce back from shit.” I smiled, thinking about some of the messages I’d gotten. “Ma doesn’t know how big it’s gotten. She thinks it’s just me talking to a camera.”
“You making money from it? Being smart about it?”
“Yes sir, a little. Nothing crazy, but enough to help with gas money and stuff.” I looked out the window, deciding to be honest about something I’d been thinking about. “Actually, that’s part of why I was being difficult about college earlier. I wasn’t really planning to give up on school—I was just being rebellious, testing Ma to see if she’d support my dreams even if they weren’t traditional.”
It felt good to admit that. The truth was, I’d never planned not to go to college. I just wanted to see if Ma would fight for my dreams or try to force me into a box. Watching her stress about it had made me feel guilty, but it also showed me how much she believed in me.
“You still planning to go?”
“Hell yeah. I want to major in communications, maybe sports broadcasting. The streaming is teaching me a lot about contentcreation and connecting with an audience. I figure I can do both. Go to school and build my platform.”
We pulled into the car lot, and excitement shot through me again. Having my own car would mean freedom, driving myself to practice, helping Ma out more when the baby came, and eventually driving to college. Independence. I could taste it.
“The accident messed me up mentally for a while,” I continued as we got out of the car. This was something I hadn’t really talked about with anyone except my followers. “Not just the physical stuff, but feeling helpless, watching Ma stress about everything.”
“But you’re past that now?”
“Yeah. Working with you in PT showed me my strength. I can do whatever I put my mind to. And the streaming gave me purpose. People look forward to my content, ask for advice about their own recoveries. I feel like a doctor sometimes. It made me realize I got something to offer.”
“A doctor, huh? Well, it seems you may be following in my footsteps a little. I like that.” He grinned. “Now I know your mama gave us some constraints, so you might as well get off that Charger you’re leaning on and eyeing.”
