“Can I hug her?” she asks Azmir first then me. “Can I hug you?” I guess that’s her nervousness showing.
I believe Azmir tells her it’s okay because I still can’t speak. She comes into me and wraps her arms around my numb body. Azmir scoots back just a bit as to give her room to embrace me. He doesn’t go too far to show that he’s still here for support. His hand is still laced with mine and his leg still firm against my leg. My body still can’t move. Samantha moves back into her original position.
With my eyes still flickering I exhale the word, “Hi.” I’ve been working on it from the moment I recognized her.
“Hi, baby,” she returns with an even wider smile.
“Let’s sit down and talk. I’m sure Rayna has lots of questions. Can I get you ladies something to drink?” Azmir asks, preparing to leave the room. I pull hard, yet discreetly at his hand, letting him know he isn’t to leave my side. I turn to him with eyes still wide, though no words come. He confirms he understands what I’m saying with a gentle nod. His eyes are wide and lost, too. We’re all in a precarious place.
The three of us sit and initially no one says anything. Samantha is looking to Azmir and me to take the lead. I’m still coming down from my shell shock and can’t give much at all until I’ve landed.
“Ummmm...” Azmir attempts. Good because I can’t do this!
“Rayna, your mom called me a few months back, saying that she was ready to get clean. I didn’t want to notify you because honestly, I didn’t know how you’d react.” He uses his hand to gesture, something he never does. His hand keeps going from his chin the down toward the table—up and down. It quickly becomes a predictable pattern.
Crap. He’s nervous!
He continues, speaking slowly. “I knew this was a personal matter and how uhhh...selective an individual you are, but I felt after having lost Michelle, you could use another familiar figure out here.”
Is he saying he isn’t enough? Am I overbearing? What in the world is going on? I begin panicking.
“Uhhhh...so I made a few calls and got her into a reputable rehab in Huntington Beach. I’ve heard great assessments from trusting sources,” he mutters nervously as he caresses my knuckles while still holding my hands.
I don’t like seeing him like this, but I have nothing to say. I now understand his hesitance in the truck. I try desperately to search for suitable words.
“Well, anyway...she’s completed her program and has been successfully discharged.” Azmir continues, “She’s been staying here for the past few days until she gets on her feet.”
“Yeah, I ain’t never stay in a fancy hotel before. Years ago, when you and Keeme was babies we stayed in a Super 8. That wasn’t nuttin’ like this. Thank you, sir.” Samantha’s dim smile was genuine in expressing her gratitude for Azmir’s apparent benevolence.
“Azmir,” he corrects.
“My bad,” Samantha retracts. “Azmir. I know you don’t want me to be too...formal, but I gotta give you yo’ props, baby. You looking out and all.”
“How do you two know each other?” I ask, suddenly finding my voice. They both shoot each other a look, I guess asking who would explain.
Azmir lost. “Well, back in Jersey, over summer...the morning we checked out, I ran into Samantha in the lobby.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Azmir stills. He cautiously proceeds.
He slowly shakes his head. “Nah. There was so much going on with you at that time. You’d never spoken much about your mother, so I didn’t think she was an open topic,” Azmir’s deep voice reduces to a grovel. It’s cautioned, humbled, and apologetic. “I wasn’t being underhanded—”
“No. He saved my life,” Samantha interrupts him, speaking matter of factly. “He gave me a second chance. If he never gave me his business card ‘dat day, only gawd know where I be today.” She shrugs her frail shoulders. “Could be dead.”
Although I have more questions, the picture is becoming clearer to me. Azmir secretly assisted my mother into sobriety. I’m not immediately sure how I feel about it, but what I do know is that I need to get out of here before my emotions take over. I’m not prepared to become undone in front of them. So I offer, “Is there anything that I can do for you? Have you gotten any doctors out here?” I can’t help my professional tone. I’m not familiar with mother/daughter etiquette.
Samantha cracks a toothless grin, “Nah, baby. Azmir here done set me up real nice. I got doctors and a dentist. I’m going to get my teef on Monday,” she says directly to Azmir who nods, still in fear of me feeling that he’s intruded.
“I got me a job interview at the grocery store on Tuesday. He got me some nice clothes so I’ll look halfway decent,” she giggles.