Page 53 of Quasim II: King Inferno

He didn’t laugh.

“Homeless?”

I shoved my duffle bag further onto my arm. “I like to think of it as a nomadic lifestyle that I live. Very good for the economy and shit.”

He dug into his pockets and pulled out a knot of money, counting out a few hundreds and handed it to me. “Get you a room for the week… meet me here tomorrow.”

I looked at the money before taking it from his hands. “Why?”

He nodded toward the textbook that peeked out the open side of the duffle bag. “You trying to better yourself… I’m always going to offer a hand up to someone I see that’s trying. Meet me here tomorrow.” He got on his bike and put his helmet on.

“What time?”

“I’ll let you figure that out.” He nodded, putting the visor down and then sped off the block while I stood there holding the money, not knowing when I should show up.

Quasim had been there for me ever since. I came back that next morning at 7:00 a.m. and he was there. When he saw me walking down the block, he nodded in approval. When he found out why I was in college, he took me under his wing and made sure I was good. He got me a small studio apartment near my school and made sure I always had money. When I didn’t have school, I worked at Fern.

Quasim taught me how to ride bikes and bought me my first one. The man did all of that and never asked for shit in return. I was riding with the Inferno Gods so much that I eventually became one and would do whatever for the Gods.

We weren’t just a bunch of niggas on a bike, this was a family. Every God would lay down their life for the Inferno family. Quasim never had to say much, we were already riding because the loyalty was so thick.

“Hassan, are you even paying attention? Dr. Mercer says we have a pediatric case in triage.” One of the other medical students bumped my shoulder.

Our attending was already making his way down the hall, and we quickly ran behind him to catch up. The emergency room was my least favorite because so much was happening.Half the time, the doctors here were bullshitting while the waiting room filled up.

We pulled the curtain back and Dr. Mercer had this look like he recognized the woman. He cleared his throat and composed himself, before he spoke. “I’m Dr. Mercer, what happened to this little angel here?”

The little boy was small, and he was holding his arm, which meant he had either broken or sprained it. He peered up into Dr. Mercer’s eyes like he was afraid and had done something wrong. His mother couldn’t keep still and kept hugging herself.

“He fell in school and says it hurts.” She blurted out of turn, which told me that wasn’t how his arm ended up hurt.

Taking my pad out, I jotted down notes because there were signs of abuse here. The mother was strung out, and I had seen plenty of strung-out junkies, so I could spot one with little to no effort.

“We’ll get an x-ray going for him and get that all patched up, so you get out of here.” Dr. Mercer barely asked any questions.

He acted as if he didn’t want to be in this room with them. As if he was too good to help this mother who was clearly a junkie, and her abused boy who didn’t seem like he was taken care of.

“Want some ice cream?” Dinner was being served, so I knew I could sneak some from one of the cafeteria carts.

The boy nodded his head. “Yes, please.”

His mother shook her head no. “He don’t need that mess.”

“Are you sure? It’s fre?—”

“King, when I move, you move… I sent Daniels to order the x-rays, why are you still here?” He scolded.

It was humbling coming here and having the doctors talk to you like you’re less than dirt. He didn’t know I could break his jaw and continue on with my day. I had to check Hassan the Inferno God at the door, and tap into Hassan, the future doctor.

Sim always talked to me about controlling my emotions and knowing when and how to code switch. He didn’t know it, but he was the reason I continued. The look of pride in his eyes when I told him what I had going on was enough to want to continue to make him proud.

I went to put the x-ray order in, when in reality, they only needed one of us to go. On the way back, Dr. Mercer was standing near the nurse station filling in files.

Something didn’t sit right with me. That little boy was being abused, and he didn’t seem to care. It was like he wasn’t seeing what was happening right in front of him.

“Dr. Mercer, I think we need to report neglect for the kid in triage six… classic signs of him being abused, and the mother is using.”

“You graduated medical school, King?”

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