The bodyguards navigate us through the crowds to the back door where we jump into the Range Rover.
“How did you get here?” I ask Azmir. I know he wouldn’t leave his car behind and seeing that Ray brought me leads me to wonder.
As he plays around on his phone, he murmurs, “Oh, errr...Kid dropped me off. I had him pick me up from my meeting.”
“Oh, okay.” I sit and wonder, ‘Where are we going at this hour?’
Seconds later, he maneuvers in his seat to face me and says, “Listen, where I’m taking you to...where we’re going is to meet with someone.” His face is preoccupied as he’s trying to process his thoughts and spoon-feed them to me at the same time. I know Azmir; he’s struggling with something.
“Jacobs, you’re scaring me,” I say with a soft smile because the truth is he’s giving a disclaimer. And disclaimers are typically preceded by bad news. “It’s not befitting of a confident and powerful man such as yourself to appear so...anxious.” I continue to smile softly.
With distress and doubt in his eyes he snorts, “Trying to walk the straight and narrow with you makes a man second guess himself quite often.”
In this moment, I want to straddle him and reassure my feelings for him, but I don’t want to overdo it. I woman up and use my words instead.
“Azmir, I trust you. You have to know this,” I chuckle. “For crying out loud, I’ve agreed to be your wife. And after hearing Pastor Edmondson explain the role of a husband in a household how God sees it, I realize it’s a huge commitment.” I gleam up at his beautiful face. I was going for humor, but Azmir doesn’t follow suit. I pause and search his eyes, but can’t pick up the nature of his apprehension.
As the truck comes to a stop, he gives a sharp exhale and bows his head, embattled. It tears my heart, so I do the only thing I can think of doing. I pull him up by the chin and lay the warmest and most impassioned kiss on his lips. Once over the shock, he returns the sentiment and grabs me by the waist. Azmir’s strong arms pull me into him, but not trying to go beyond the kiss. He wants me to know he’s here in the moment with me.
I withdraw. “Better?” I ask with a faux pout mixed with a smile. Azmir’s eyes dance around my face as if he wants to share so much, but relents.
“Come on. We’re here,” he says before sliding out of the truck and grabbing my hand to take me with him.
We walk into a boutique hotel where Azmir asks the concierge at the front desk to direct us to the conference room. The young man instructs us where to go. Azmir doesn’t let go of my hand and I grow anxious by the second. As we approach the conference room door, he abruptly turns to me and pauses. He doesn’t say anything, but as I give a soft reassuring smile, he plants a light kiss on my lips and then turns to open the door.
The room is long and partially lit. In the center of it is a long conference table that could possibly seat over a dozen. As my gaze makes its way around the empty room, I take notice of the frame of a small woman at the other end. She seems similar to the size of Yazmine, but I know it can’t possibly be her. It makes no sense. I just left her contented with gardening tools to plant to her heart’s delight. She never mentioned seeing me again today.
I look up to question our whereabouts. Azmir says nothing and eventually the shadow of the woman strolls towards us. My eyes are glued to her. As she walks into the light, her silhouette disappears and her image comes into color. Once my brain registers the encounter I lose my breath, something that has never happened to me. Air completely abandons my lungs. My body freezes instantaneously and chills.
Azmir catches on right away because he tightens his grip on my hand and steps close so that he uses his body to hold me up. My mouth is suspended in the air and my eyes wide open. It’s as if I’m seeing a ghost...because I am. It’s Samantha, my mother. I’m reminded yet once again that she slightly resembles the woman I knew a little more than ten years ago, but has aged tremendously from her hard run with the streets. Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem as desolate and malnourished as she did back in the summer when I saw her last.
Her eyes sparkle as she regards me expectantly. Her gaze says so much before she speaks. She appears meek, nervous, and proud—all at the same time.
The room is silent. All that can be heard are extraneous noises in the walls. I can’t move. My breath is the first to return. But my breathing is exasperated because of the long delay. My eyes loosen and begin to blink rapidly; I’m sure because they’re so dry from being opened for so long. But my mouth won’t close, nor does my body move.
“Hi, baby girl,” she greets humbly. My breathing is still erratic though I am trying with all my might to slow it down. Azmir reaches down to grab my shoulders as another sign of support.