Page 57 of Quasim III: King Inferno

“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 thatoneside.

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 tocheck inon 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.”

“Sounds good. See you both in a few,” I smiled, my cheeks hurting, as I waved goodbye and went to grab an organic lime.

Who the fuck truly ate this shit?

I sent a quick text message to Corleon and went to pay for my food. When the woman scanned everything, I almost wanted to stick this bitch up when she told me a hundred and twenty dollars for like eight items.

The milk would have to go bad for this reason. I tossed the bags into my trunk and then headed over to the building that Mercer had pointed at. The doorman looked at me like I didn’t belong, and to be truthful, I didn’t belong here.

Sixteen-dollar juice and overpriced condos would never sit right with me. I saw patients every day, mostly those that lived below the poverty line, so it was hard to wear expensive things when some of them didn’t know when their next meal was.

We had attendings wearing expensive watches and pulling into parking spaces in foreign cars, while being smacked dab in the middle of the hood. They didn’t get into being a doctor to help people.

It was to help themselves.

“Hassan King… guest of Dr. Mercer.”

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