Page 32

Hassan

Guilt was something that riddled my body since seeing Elijah again.

He was someone that I never forgot about.

In medical school, you often talk about your first fuck up .

Elijah was my first fuck up. I could have saved that boy from a world of harm that his mother had tossed him into, and it broke my spirit.

It had been in the back of my mind since Quasim told me what happened to him.

I couldn’t help but feel like I failed him.

The shit that hurt the most was that I could have saved him. If I had spoken the fuck up, I could have prevented things happening to him, and that was some shit I couldn’t forgive myself for. Had King not seen me and used his intuition to know that I needed someone, I wouldn’t be here today.

Instead, I allowed Mercer to gaslight the shit out of me into believing that I was thinking too deep into my head and I wasn’t seeing what I thought I was.

Elijah had every sign of an abused child, and I didn’t save him.

He could barely look me in the eye, was very small for his age, and then his mother.

Her ass didn’t seem right from the moment I saw her. She was very skittish, and she avoided eye contact while stuttering to tell me what was wrong with her child. Any good mother would have known everything that happened, even if they weren’t around the child when the injury occurred.

Not her.

I was met with a lot of umm and I think so’s that night, which further made me feel like that boy was in danger. It was like she didn’t even try to rehearse shit before walking into the emergency room.

I whipped my car into the parking lot of the expensive ass supermarket, turned the car off and hopped out. Dressed down in workout clothes, I tried to blend in with all these rich folks that were buying overpriced strawberries.

The minute that King took me under his wing, he showed me how to invest money and make it work for me. He made sure that I would never need to depend on him, and that was what made him a king.

A good man.

A true leader was one that wanted his people to eat without him.

King knew that every God could hold their own without him, and make sure we got our own money.

Every nigga that ran with the Infernos and Delgatos could hold their own.

They weren’t secretive and showed us how to fish.

It was on you to soak up the knowledge and learn to fish or sit back and continue to allow them to fish for you.

You would think after finishing three twelve-hour shifts that I would be taking my ass home to sleep. Instead, I was at this fancy ass grocery store, pushing this little cart around and debating if I wanted to spend sixteen dollars for some organic pineapple juice.

The fuck they do to the pineapple, milk the bitch with their bare hands?

After holding the jar in my hands, I put it in the cart and continued around the market.

Mercer and his wife ran Sunday errands every single week, never missing a day.

I knew this piece of information because I had been watching them for the past three weeks.

Mercer thought he was untouchable, so it wasn’t like he was careful with switching his routine up.

As far as he knew, he didn’t think anyone knew the other life that he lived.

Since Corleon had given me his schedule, I had made it my business to watch the fucking pedophile.

Every Sunday, he and his wife held hands and walked their neighborhood, no matter how cold it was.

They would laugh, smile and stop into their favorite Polish bakery and grab their favorite pastries and bread.

The nerve of him to hold conversation as he paid for the overpriced pastries while his wife picked out whatever they wanted for the week. He was able to laugh and smile, meanwhile, he ruined a little boy’s childhood and forced him to become familiar with trauma.

It made me sick when I thought about the pain he caused, when he took an oath to do the exact opposite. He was supposed to protect and heal, but instead, he was taking a child’s innocence, and that shit was making me physically sick as I held the glass container of milk.

“Why the fuck does anyone need raw milk for?” I muttered, grabbing the regular milk that I knew was overpriced. It was at least a few dollars cheaper at the corner store I stopped in after work.

Ramos called and told me that Quasim was awake and expected me to run to see him.

I still hadn’t made it to go and see him yet.

I was scared that I would break down and start crying like a pussy.

Operating on him was one of the scariest moments in my life.

I’ve been in the operating room plenty of times, observing and only stepping in with assistance.

The people on those tables were strangers.

Patients.

This was different because Quasim wasn’t just a patient to me. He was family, so as much as my chest ached, and my heart slammed against my ribs, I had to trust that I knew what I was doing, and that Ramos would cut in when he felt that I didn’t have it.

Quasim had always been this strong presence in my life, nothing ever got him down. Seeing him laying on that operating table and coding right in front of my eyes fucked me up. I had to separate the personal and do what I had learned, with the assistance of Ramos.

No matter how scared I was, I knew that this nigga wasn’t leaving us. There was no Inferno Gods without Quasim Inferno. Papa Inferno may have created and founded it, and he always had my respect, but the only Inferno Gods I had only ever known were led by Quasim.

All of the Gods meant something to him, and we were all one big family. Bikes and violence may have brought us together, but at the end of the day, it was all love. We rode for one another, always, and that was because we were family.

Shit, I needed to regulate my emotions before stepping foot in his room and hearing his voice. Not that long ago, his blood was on my hands as I tried to save his life. His family was soaking up all the love and I was giving them the space they deserved.

“Hassan King?”

I counted slowly to myself before I turned around while pretending like I hadn’t spotted his sick ass over by the seafood counter with his wife.

“Dr. Mercer… oh shit, how are you?”

“Wow, this is so crazy…do… do you live in this area?” he asked, as he leaned on his cart while his wife was picking up some organic flour. I could go shit in a bag and tell them it was organic, and they would be buying it up like it would help them live longer.

“Man, I wish… this area too rich for me,” I let out my best chuckle. “Actually, I have a friend that lives over this way and I figured I would grab some groceries before heading home… you remember how it is when you’re a resident.”

It was becoming harder to discreetly choke down the disgust that I felt for this man. His broad shoulders and pale skin irritated me. He stared at me with this creepy and weird smile, as if he knew something that I didn’t know.

I was positive that I wasn’t a blimp on his radar, and I was surprised that he even remembered my name. Then again, I was that one student that was always questioning him. You couldn’t tell me that the sky was green without me wanting to know why it was green.

The people that Mercer kept around him never asked those questions. They didn’t care that he was telling them the sky was green.

“I do remember those days and don’t miss them. Don’t think I slept through my entire residency, and there was never enough money… just remember, it doesn’t last forever.” He lightly chuckled, as his wife came over to put the flour into the cart.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly.

It was crazy because she seemed like a nice older woman. The kind that would make a corny joke while passing by you in the grocery store. “Sam, this is Hassan King… he was one of my medical students that were under me.”

She smiled even brighter and extended her hand. “Oh wow, how are you? Samantha Mercer…Edward often talks about how much he misses working in the hospitals.”

Sam clung onto her husband, clearly proud of the man she thought he was. The man that he portrayed himself to be to a lot of people. It was hard when someone you loved only gave you one version of them.

The version that you trusted and loved, so when you were presented with another version, it was hard to believe.

Sam and her children definitely wouldn’t believe. I mean, why would they? They had experienced the best man possible. Not the one capable of sexually abusing a little boy and who knows how many more. It would be hard for them to believe something other than what they saw.

People like Mercer consciously made the decision to only show people that one side of them. His colleagues, friends, family, and even the lawn man only saw that one side.

The man that played golf on Saturday with his old buddies from medical school, the man who called his daughter that was in college just to check in on her.

And most importantly, the man who held hands with his wife, no matter how cold it was, and walked to their favorite Polish bakery and grabbed a few groceries because it was what she wanted.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Mercer. I won’t take up too much of your time… it was great seeing you, Dr. Mercer.”

Mercer was sizing me up, almost proud that I came through on the other side. “Hey, Dr. King. Me and Samantha are having some friends over for light bites and wine. If you’re free after this, come over and have a drink with us and some lemon squares.”

“Fresh organic Myer lemons, too.” Sam added to sweeten the deal.

I looked at my watch and around like I actually had some place to be and shrugged. “How can I turn down lemon bars and wine?”

Mercer beamed proudly. “Can you tell our children don’t visit home often? Look, we live in that building right across there… tell the doorman my name and he’ll let you up.”