Azmir gives her a soft, polite smile. I can’t help but feel a little jealous. Azmir has technically set me up in a new life myself. He’s given me a car, bought me new clothes, helped me ‘keep’ my job, and gave me a nice place to stay, too. My thoughts are running wild. This is too much for me.
Clearly, I’m visibly uncomfortable. Azmir tightens his warm hand on me and at the same time Samantha utters, “Now I ain’t mean to upset you. Your boyfriend here thought it could be nice if we talked,” she pauses. “I can go back if you want me to, but I wanna stay and start all over with you. I done missed out on so much,” her voice chokes more at each word.
I gasp and grab my mouth. Azmir lunges slightly, grabbing my one shoulder while still gripping my hand.
I take a moment to consider her offer, but there’s no time to evaluate what having her here would mean to me. The last thing I expected when I awakened this morning was seeing my mother here in L.A.
“No. I don’t want you to go back. If you want change, I can certainly understand. I got it out here, too,” I murmur, looking over to Azmir as I use my left hand to caress his hand that has been attached to my right since we’ve left the truck.
Samantha must catch a glimpse of my ring. I notice as she sits, fixated on it for a few seconds. It gives me the same self-consciousness I’ve come to develop when it draws attention from others. I shift it with my thumb and slowly withdraw my arm from the table.
But before I’m done, she gestures to the ring with her head and asks, “Is ‘dat a...”
I don’t know why, but I look down at the ring. “Ummm...yes,” I glance over to Azmir, who’s wearing an impassive expression. “An engagement ring,” I answer, a little embarrassed—more or less uncomfortable. I don’t know how I feel discussing this with my mother after the fact.
She tears up again. “Oooooh! Y’all getting married?” she cries, slowly trying to mask her emotions. I nod my head. With her eyes to the table, she whispers, “I’m gon’ have some grandbabies.”
My body freezes. Grandbabies? Let’s just take it one step at a time. I’m still adjusting to living with a man and then consenting to be his wife! The thought of so much responsibility is overwhelming.
Azmir breaks the awkward moment and seemingly on cue. I’ve needed to go for a while already. This is all too much. “It’s getting late. I think this was a nice...ice-breaker. Maybe you two can arrange to become reacquainted...in the near future?” he poses more as a question than a suggestion.
“Okay. I’ll be here. Ain’t got much to do, but wait on you,” Samantha supplies with a forced smile.
“Are you going to be okay alone?” I ask, not wanting to be rude. No matter my total disarray from the shock of learning she’s here, I can register the fact that she’s absolutely alone with no one...but Azmir to call on.
“Oh, I got mo’ time to do in prayer and meditation. I done spent too much time running from Gawd. I gots lots a makin’ up ta do. But when you up to it, you can call or come by to see me here. As soon as I can get a job and a place, Im’ma be out ‘dis young man hair. I’m getting there,” she stands.
We follow suit. “Don’t rush. You can stay here until I—” Azmir stops as he steps closer to me and places his hands on arms. “...we find something more comfortable for you. Call if you need anything,” Azmir insists.
Samantha bows her head in humility. We say our odd and brief goodbyes and leave. As soon as we hit the cool air outside of the hotel, I give the biggest exhale that I feels like I’ve been holding onto since walking in.
~~~~~~~~~~
Azmir
The ride home is bleak for me. Rayna rides in silence, gazing out the window. I wonder what was going through her mind. More specifically, I wonder if she’s upset with me. I can’t help but feel like I’ve crossed the line...like I’ve overstepped. Rayna can be so fucking solitary that it drives me crazy. I did it with the best intentions. Honestly, since she’d championed my reunion with my moms so well, I thought this was along the same lines. Harmless even. So why in the hell am I feeling so nervous about this?
“I made reservations at DiFillippo’s. I figured you’d be hungry,” I murmur over to Rayna as she sits glumly, gazing out of her window. I actually had Brett make the reservation there to buffer the blow of the meeting with Samantha. She loves their dessert selection. Frankly, it was a preemptive measure.
“I’m not very hungry,” she mumbles, not even looking at me. She keeps her regard outside of the window.
Damn.
“Do you want me to call and order the cremé br?lée to go?” That’s her favorite. It’s that time of the month for her and she loves having it during times like this.
She turns to me, “I’m actually just drained. It’s been a long day. I would rather take a hot shower and go to bed.” She flashes a forced smile.
Yeah, I’m in the fucking doghouse.