“Your situation is bad,” he said simply. Saleem watched his face. There was no arguing that fact. “And if you do not tell us the truth, it will only get worse for you.”
Away from his family, Saleem had nothing to lose. Exhausted and desperate, Saleem heard a softening in the officer’s voice, the tone of a father chastising his son. He took a long sip from the orange can. The warm fizz tingled in his mouth and coated his throat with a reassuring sweetness. He felt his shoulders untense like the freshly popped soda can with its quiet hiss.
“I will tell you now,” Saleem said limply. “I will tell you my story.”
The officer leaned back in his chair, inhaled deeply on his cigarette, and nodded as Saleem returned to the night that was blacker than sin.
CHAPTER 33. Saleem
“STAY HERE. DOCTOR COME NOW.” SALEEM WATCHED BLANKLY AS Officer G exited the room. A doctor? His mind felt fogged from his sleepless night. It was difficult to focus.
An hour later, a man in a collared shirt and slacks entered the room. He had a white doctor’s coat slung over his arm and a tawny leather bag in his hand. He was heavyset, the buttons of his shirt looking ready to give way. His face was round with jowls that sagged despondently. He looked like a Russian cartoon character Saleem had once seen on a black market video.
The doctor muttered something as he entered the room. He dropped his bag and white coat on the table. From the leather case, he pulled out a stethoscope, a small penlight, and a pair of latex gloves. He sat in the chair that Officer G had occupied and motioned for Saleem to come over to him. Saleem slowly rose and walked over.
The doctor gave him a general once-over and then stood to begin his inspection. He shined his light into Saleem’s bloodshot eyes and dry mouth. He motioned for Saleem to remove his shirt. Saleem could smell his own staleness as he lifted his arms. The doctor didn’t seem fazed. He brought his stethoscope to Saleem’s chest and listened while he stared blankly at the ground. He peered closely at Saleem’s underarms before slumping back into the chair. He tapped Saleem’s waistband.
“Take this off,” he said simply. Saleem felt blood rush to his face.
“No!” he blurted. He took a few steps back, putting the table between him and the doctor.
The doctor let out a tired sigh.
“Take off. I must check,” he said. He checked his watch and looked at Saleem expectantly. Saleem crossed his arms, his skin prickled with anger. The doctor waited a moment, his fingers tapping on the table. Quickly, his face grew serious and his eyes zeroed in on Saleem.
“Take. . OFF.”
In his voice was the clear message that there would be no way out of this. Saleem felt incredibly alone and small. He took a few deep breaths before doing as instructed, his fingers fumbling nervously with the button and zipper before he slowly brought his pants down to his ankles. His briefs hung loosely on his hips. Saleem stared at the ceiling.
“Take off.” The doctor touched the waistband of his underwear as he snapped the gloves over his thick hands. Saleem felt a heat rush over him. What was this doctor looking for?
Saleem’s breath was a slow and bitter exhalation, an effort to expel his humiliation in a whistle of air. He pulled his briefs down to his knees. The doctor adjusted his lenses and peered interestedly at the area between Saleem’s legs. From his bag, he pulled out a paper tape measure and used it to assess whether Saleem’s body had a different answer to the age question.
Saleem hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since he was a small child. Part of him wanted to drive his fist through the doctor’s curious glasses while another part of him wanted to curl up into a ball and wail. The exam concluded before Saleem could act.
“Okay, finished.” He motioned for Saleem to pull up his underpants and jeans, as he jotted something into a notepad that fit in his palm. “Any health problems?” he asked as Saleem hurried to pull up his briefs and jeans.
“No. No problems.”
“How old?” The question resurfaced. It dawned on Saleem this was the reason for the doctor’s visit, explaining his focus between Saleem’s thighs, the part of him that had changed most in the last few years.
“Fifteen,” Saleem answered meekly.
“Hmph.” The doctor paused briefly to look at Saleem’s face and scribbled a few more notes. He packed up his tools, retrieved his white coat, and exited the room without any further conversation.
Alone, Saleem began to pace the room, his anger fanned by exhaustion. He let out a short yell that bounced from wall to wall. He yelled again — longer and louder.
Saleem put his palms and forehead against the wall. It felt cold and real, realer than the rest of his situation. He brought his right palm against the wall a second time, harder.
Again and again, harder and harder, Saleem slapped his palm against the cold wall as the past twenty-four hours spun through his head: the policeman grabbing his elbow as he exited the pawnshop, the cigarette smoke blown in his face, the doctor examining his genitals with more attention than the customs officer had paid to their travel documents, his mother frantic in the hotel or searching the streets, Samira frightened and silent, his father watching and shaking his head in disappointment, Aziz’s tiny chest heaving with discomfort. They exploded above him like a shower of rockets, raining down on his head and shoulders when there was nowhere to run and nothing that could be done.
Saleem was pounding the wall with two hands now, enraged and crying. He didn’t notice the door open behind him.
“Hey! Hey!” Saleem felt a hand pull his shoulder. It was Officer G, a cigarette dangling precariously from his bottom lip. “You crazy?”
Saleem turned around and slumped to the floor, weakened by his outburst. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. Almost as if the officer and Saleem realized this at the same time, he left the room and returned with a plate. There were a few pieces of chicken kebab and pita bread. He put the plate on the table unceremoniously.
“Eat something.”
Saleem’s breathing slowed. His palms stung, pulsing. He returned to the table in defeat. He took the food and chewed bite after bite, tasting nothing. He stared at the plate, letting his eyes gloss over and his muscles relax. The officer watched Saleem, a specimen in a jar. Captivating to his captors.
Saleem ate without looking up or saying a word. Maybe if his belly stopped growling, he could come up with a way to get out of this mess. Maybe he could figure a way to get back to his mother.
CHAPTER 34. Saleem
TWO TURKISH POLICE OFFICERS STARED DOWN AT SALEEM AND the other refugees. Herded onto a boat like cattle, Saleem and a dozen similarly thwarted migrants had been returned to Izmir. The Turkish officials were not pleased to have to reclaim these refugees but those were the rules. Refugees were to be returned to the first country they entered and the burden was on that country to deal with them. It was a cause of persistent resentment between the Turks and the Greeks. The handoff had been terse.
Saleem watched the Greek officers smirk as they handed over a stack of papers and unloaded their cargo onto Turkish soil. Few words were exchanged between the two sides but their sentiments were clear.
Not our problem anymore, the expressions on the Greek officers read.
Thanks for nothing, the sarcastic reply on the faces of their Turkish counterparts.