Dr. Jackson remembered that he still had a patient waiting, but he had to look in on Myla one last time. He arrived just in time to say goodbye as the Cedars-Sinai EMT’s were preparing to wheel her out of surgery. Myla was awake.

“Do you remember Dr. Jackson?” asked Mrs. Dorsey.

Myla looked over at him and gave him a big smile.

“He’s taken very good care of you,” she continued.

“Thank you,” said Dr. Jackson, surprised but pleased that she said something kind about him. He reached into his shirt pocket for his card. “If you and your husband want to talk, please call.”

Mrs. Dorsey put the card in her purse then followed the gurney down the corridor.

Yendor was stretched out on the examination table asleep when Dr. Jackson walked in.

“Well son, you don’t have any broken bones. It’s a shoulder separation,” said Dr. Jackson as he helped him sit up. He held Yendor’s x-ray film up and said, “It could have been much worse if you weren’t in such great physical condition. Do you play sports?”

“You say’n that every young black man in shape plays sports? If I say ‘no’, what’s your next question… You get buff doing pushups in a prison cell?”

“You’re absolutely right…” Dr. Jackson looked back at the x-ray film for a name, “Yendor. That was not a fair assumption.”

Yendor chuckled, “I’m a center linebacker.”

Dr. Jackson smiled then took a small light-box from beneath the table and sat it next to Yendor. He placed the film on the translucent glass. The light flickered on as Dr. Jackson slid the film under two clips.

Pointing to a spot on the x-ray, Dr. Jackson said, this is your…

“Clavicle,” said Yendor.

“What else do you see?” asked Dr. Jackson with a smile.

“Nothing,” said Yendor, clamming up, brow furled.

He continued the examination, then, “What college are you going to attend?”

“I don’t need the white man’s education to succeed.”

“No, you have choices. You can get one on the streets cheaper than going to college. If that’s where you plan to do business the rest of your life, on the streets, then go for it.”

Yendor had spent most of his life hustling on the streets. He knew that anything short of dangerous and/or illegal would not get him very far.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Yendor.

Have you ever heard of Maharry?”

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