Juxta-Opposition

     The old double bladed ax swung so effortlessly in Ethan's hand that he almost forgot he was chopping down a tree. Ethan's shaved brown hair glistened with sweat. Spring's afternoon sun was getting close to as hot as summer, with today's temperature reaching 85 farenheit. Four chopped birch trees lay on a grassy knoll, in single file as if they were body bags. Ethan was three strokes away from finishing off the fifth tree. Ms. Plummer had called on Friday night asking if Ethan wanted to make "a little pocket money". Laying brick five days a week earned him a decent wage yet he nearly always took weekend jobs. Twenty nine years old and with a $322,000 mortgage to pay, Ethan had to come up with ways to earn "a little pocket money." Of course those pockets had to be pretty deep to support all the money he needed but if anyone could do it, it was Ethan Ferguson.                                               Ms. Plummer just began to strut her way out to the patio. A knockout twenty years ago, Carol Plummer was now more likely to knock you out if she landed a punch. After a bad divorce eight years back, Carol dedicated all her free time toward her appetite. She yearned for whip cream, brie cheese, crackers, microwaveable pizzas and anything else that would go down her esophagus. In reality, Carol was seeking comfort not Coconut ice cream. Her body ached for solace and the only way she knew how to achieve it was through food.                                                                             Ethan gripped the axe, loading up to deliver the final cut to the fifth birch tree. He saw Ms. Plummer coming out of the corner of his right eye. He wanted to get home. He wasn't interested in a third sandwich.                                                       

        "Ethan, I was gonna ask you before but something came up. You know, I was really concerned when I heard about Ryan. How is he?"                                                          

        Ethan definitely didn't see that one coming. It wasn't as if people never asked about his younger brother. They did it all the time. It was just that Ethan thought he was going to be denying a BLT but instead he ended up wanting to deny reality. Again. On the whole, Ethan dealt with his brother's illness with courage and respect. But he didn't know what he should say. Ethan thought that there was some type of way in which he should treat Ryan. He wanted to know the boundaries. The Fergusons were learning the hard way how a sickness takes possession of more than one person. If allowed, it can control a whole family.                                                                                                                   

       "He's doing alright Ms. Plummer. They got him on some new drug so we're just waiting around to see if it works. Were you gonna ask how long? Yeah, my mom told me that the doctor said two weeks to one month. So, y'know. We'll see."                                                                                                          
       As Carol listened to Ethan, she thought of how often he must repeat this answer. Ethan knew what she was going to ask before the word even slipped off her tongue. Everyone in San Paderno loved Ryan Ferguson. He was a sweet kid with a rebellious spirit but he had always been accessible. That was one of his most beloved qualities. His ability to be so open with people was beyond a boy of seven-teen. People lived their whole lives without ever attaining a tenth of the natural wisdom Ryan possessed. Carol couldn't help but look at Ethan and wonder how it skipped over the man himself. Despite this thought, Carol Plummer liked Ethan very much. Though he was different from Ryan, Ethan never put on airs. On the other hand, Ethan was a grown man. Life makes certain demands over the old that it suspends for the young. Before Carol thought any further about Ethan, she suddenly remembered one of her previous questions.                                                                        

      "Hey Ethan, if you don't feel comfortable talking about all of this, then… then we don't have to. OK?"                                                                                                                                                         
      Carol had expected Ethan to interrupt her and say that it was alright to ask more questions. She was wrong. Ethan stood there with a blank face. She wasn't sure if he was trying to be difficult but Carol found Ethan's cold attitude somewhat intriguing. He wasn't going to give her an inch. She'd have to fight for every bit of information she wanted.                                                                                               
     "I forgot the name of the condition your brother …"       
     "It's called Lupus."                                    
     "That's right. I remember it now because my mother's first cousin got it. Your mother and I talked about it. This was back in the seventies, though. When my cousin got it, I mean. They didn't have as good medicines then like they do now."                                                          
    
      Ethan said nothing but nodded. Once the words came out of her mouth, Carol realized she should have just kept her lips shut. Too late. Ethan didn't know what happened to Carol's cousin but the tone in which she spoke confirmed in his mind that she was dead. Ethan had learnt enough now through his mother and brother to know that many auto-immune diagnoses could be death sentences, especially those before the 21'st century. The thought quickly shocked Ethan's chest as he drew the connection to Ryan. Ethan moved back toward the last birch tree. He heaved one good cut into the tree's wooded trunk and down went the birch. His fingers wrapped around the tree's top as he dragged it toward the others. Carol watched as the veins in his neck tensed, pulsating from under the white T-shirt tight around his body. Turning back to Carol, he caught her watching him.                                                                                             
      -Maybe if she lost a few pounds.                                                                      

      Ethan suddenly lowered his head in shame. He felt bad for being so vain, so concerned with appearance. He had known Ms. Plummer for years. However, whenever he thought of her, he imagined the old Carol Plummer. It was hard not to. She was a good looking woman in her mid twenties when Ethan was coming of age. He always liked Mr. Plummer and showed him the utmost respect. He just liked Mrs. Plummer a little bit more. Yet all that was in the past. Mrs. had become Ms. and 5'5 125 swelled up to 5'5 278. It was strange to see someone change so drastically in such little time. Just as this thought entered his mind, Ethan wondered if this was going to be the same for his brother.           
      The prednisone Ryan been taking already enlarged his face and his stomach was beginning to protrude. The steroid was causing a lot of constipation for Ryan. Ethan recalled how Ryan had taken off his shirt the other day to reveal a bunch of newly acquired stretch marks. All along his waistline and over his stomach, the marks mimicked a mother nearing her second trimester. It was so odd and peculiar that Ethan wanted badly to turn away from Ryan. However, he would never do such a thing, Ethan thought. He couldn't do such a thing. Ethan knew how much it would hurt his brother. Ryan was his blood. While the memory began to drift away, Ethan looked to Carol who was standing before her rose bushes. He turned toward her as she picked a rose with her bare hands.                                                         
      "Hey, hold on there, Carol!"                                                                          

      Ethan ran over to her so fast, he wondered to himself what he was doing. Carol stopped twisting the stem and allowed Ethan to snap off a pretty white rose.                                                       

      "You grow these yourself, Carol?"                  
      "Yeah! Well, actually, my gardner waters them once in a while but I planted them and continue to take care of them."      
      "You've done one hell of a job, then! Yes, I'm serious!"                                                          

      Ethan stared into her green eyes and was momentarily numb. Her face alone was still quite pretty and the extra weight helped add a glow to her cheeks. For a brief second, Ethan thought he was going to kiss Carol. They stared at each other for a few seconds until Ethan told himself that he should leave.                                                      

      "So, do you want me to cut them in pieces or I can just haul 'em off? If you want firewood for your chimney, Birch burns pretty damn well."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Carol tried to ponder Ethan's question but all she could focus on was Ethan.                                                       
     -I'm almost fifteen years older than him! This is weird! Good but … strange. Why did he stop though? We were so close…firewood? Yes, keep it for the chimney. Chimneys need wood. Give it lots of wood!"                                                                    

      "Sure, Ethan. If you don't mind chopping it up, I'd like to keep it. It burns pretty well, huh?"             "Like I said, it burns well. I'm not going to be able to finish it tonight, though. How about I swing by tomorrow morning?"       
      "Sure thing. Come by when you want. I'll be here."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Ethan gently placed his axe on his shoulder. The blades gleamed in dusk's sunlight. Carol smiled to him and then turned back toward her home. Just before she was inside, she called over her shoulder.                                                                          
      "Tell Ryan and your mom I say hello."                                                                  

      By the time Ethan looked up, Carol was gone. He walked down the driveway to his truck. It was seven o'clock. He was hungry.           
      Ethan decided to swing by his parent's home and see if he could wrangle up something for dinner. Carol lived a mile and a half from the Fergusons. The drive was downhill and as Ethan coasted on the old highway, he couldn't help but be captivated by the sun dropping low over the Pacific Ocean. In the diminishing sunlight, the ocean sparkled. Dark stones danced upon its surface. Ethan breathed in the ocean air, feeling the salt and dampness reach down his throat. He had lived most of his life in San Paderno yet wondered if he could move away again.
       When Ethan was twenty-three, he had lived in Delaware for two years laboring with an old friend. Milo Regis had gone to junior high school with Ethan but moved to White Castle, Delaware right before entering high school. His mother's company had moved to Delaware because of the state's reputation for being business friendly. The reputation didn't disappoint as the Regis family was doing better than ever and had no plans to move. Some of them had plans to build, though.
        Milo had done quite well for himself, creating an internet search engine in college. By the time he was twenty-three he sold the engine and made enough to build himself a nice farm house in the country. And then some if he so chose. Hence the phone call to Ethan to come out and help aid in the home's construction. It took less than a year to build but within that time he picked up jobs from other rich families connected to Milo. He could have lived an interesting life in Delaware, Ethan thought, yet California, especially San Paderno always pulled on his heart. Since he constantly thought of home and the ocean when he was in Delaware, it was almost natural that he would think of White Castle and its state when he saw the Pacific.                 
         The thought of calling Milo came to mind just as Ethan pulled up to the Ferguson home.                                                        
-Good. I'm glad he's here.                                                                              

          Ethan spotted Ryan's truck in the driveway. He hadn't talked to him in a couple of days. Ethan worried about his brother if he hadn't talked to him in more than 48 hours. Then again, he felt confident in Ryan's will. His brother had an internal strength that was impressive. Ethan had no idea what lay before them but he knew his brother would utilize all of his abilities to stay alive. And Ethan would do whatever he could to help Ryan in his efforts. Ethan was to discover that intentions are noble in their infancy, complicated at best in their prime.                             
          Opening up the back door to his parent's home, Ethan was relieved to see a familiar scene at the dinner table; Ryan and middle brother, Ottis, sitting with their father Dante Ferguson as Ethan's mother hustled back and forth from the dining table to the stove. Diane Ferguson smiled at both her seated sons while they thanked their mother in unison. As Diane turned back toward the stove, her face lit up upon seeing Ethan come into her home.                                                       

 "Oh, honey, it's so good to see you! You came just in time for dinner. Ottis, grab your brother a plate, please."      
 "Don't worry about it O, I'll get it. Good to see you guys! Pops, how are you?"      
 "Good Ethan. Take a seat. Your mother made pork chops."                                                             "You know what, if there's not enough I don't need a pork chop. Give it to the boys."                             "That's right! Give it to us. Ethan can feed himself. Mom, did you use that low cholesterol crap again?"       
"Ottis, you keep talking like that and we're all going to enjoy your pork chop. Ethan, will you…"        "Wait a minute, Pops! What do you mean "pork chop?" I only get one? Mom! What the hell is this …"       
"Ottis, I don't feel like pork so …"                  
"That's poppy-cock, Ethan. You love my pork chops. Anyone who wants to eat will always get food at our house, dear. You know that."                                                          

        Ethan slid next to Ryan at the table. The youngest brother sat silent with a large grin on his face. Ethan quickly looked his brother over, without trying to cause attention. Ryan was bright eyed and sat up straight. His lean, muscular arms had grown thinner over the past few months and as Ethan glanced at his forearms he accidentally glared at his Ryan's face.                                                                                     
       "It's because of this new medicine. We think. My platelets dropped and because of that my arm got all black and blue when they drew blood."         
       "How long will it last?"                          
       "Well, they just gave me something today which will bring my platelets back up…"      
       "Wait, I'm sorry for interrupting but what are 'platelets'?"      
       "Platelets, basically from my understanding, are what keeps your blood running out of your body when you get cut. They stop the bleed…"       
       "They clot our blood?"                          
       "Exactly! That's what the doctor said. They clot the blood and keep us from bleeding out."              "He's going to be fine now, Ethan. The blood-bank called us right after his tests came back and told him to come into the hospital. They…"      
       "The hospital?!!?"                              
       "Well, yes, Ethan. Ryan needed the medicine right away … the … the IVIZ."       
       "IVIG,mom."                                      
       "Oh, that's right, honey. IVIG. You're so smart!"      
       "What does that stand for?"                                                                          

       Diane looked at Ethan as his questions and countenance both displayed an honest look of concern. Ottis kept silent while he dived into his pork chop and Dante sipped his wine. The patriarch listened in silence as his wife and children talk. For most of his adult life, Dante had provided everything for his family. They never went hungry, always had a roof over their heads and they never wanted for anything they needed. Now, for the first time in his life, he had to sit back and watch as one of his sons was being harmed. Though he constantly looked to do things for Ryan, Dante's inability to simply 'fix' his son left him emotionally drained. All he wanted to do was cure his son. He wanted to grab Lupus by its throat and tear it loose from his son's failing body. But he could not defeat the disease. And so he sat back in silence and watched in humiliating defeat as his son grew weaker and weaker every day. Dante looked up at his wife as Diane suddenly quipped.                                                       
       "IV stands for intravenous and the IG is … is … immune, something or rather. Right, Ryan?"              "Correct, Mamacita! Ottis, pass me that paper behind you, please."                                                          
       Ottis immediately dropped the chop from his mouth and grabbed for Dr. Reynold's synopsis of yesterday's visit. Though Ottis didn't always think of the small things, like wiping his greasy fingers before snatching up the paper, he did anything he could for Ryan. Despite not saying it aloud, every night Ottis prayed for God to have his body switched with his younger brother. After seeing Ryan drive away with Diane yesterday for the hospital, Ottis went to his room and cried himself to sleep at five o'clock in the evening. Ottis didn't like to articulate his feelings through words but anything of importance that was asked of him, especially for Ryan, he would do automatically. He now slid the paper from his damp fingers to Ryan's open palm.                                                          

       "Thanks, bro. OK, here we go… OK, here it is IVIG … is intravenous immune globulin. They're red blood cells as opposed to white blood cells. The white ones are the ones that like fight off flues and colds and stuff like that."      
       "Alright, yeah, that makes sense. I remember reading about white cell counts in relation to AIDS patients."        "Jesus, Ethan! Now you're saying Ryan has AIDS? Don't listen to him Rye-bread, I know that you don't have AIDS. And even if you did, I'd still love you."                                                          
       Ottis caught a stern glance from his father and suddenly stopped talking. He decided to go back to his pork chop. Ryan noticed the event yet simply grinned. No matter what Ottis said, Ryan knew that his brother loved him. His jokes were his armor. Ethan on the other hand, didn't wear armor. He simply allowed himself to be effected by all of the elements, good and bad. The wide age gaps between the sons, six years a piece, allowed each boy to develop their own personalities with less influence from the other sibling.                                                                                                    

       "Well, I'm glad that you got that IVIG as fast as you did. So, if that medicine you took dropped the platelets, what are you going to take next?"       
       "I'm not sure, really. Mom might have a better idea than me because she talked to Dr. Reynolds when I was getting the medicine. Because it took like five hours!"      
       "Are you serious?"                              
       "Honey, it was closer to 4 1/2 hours rather than five. But yes, I did speak to Dr. Reynolds. He said that Plaquenil, which is the name of the drug, should not have caused the drop. It was probably something else, he thinks. If Ryan is willing, they will try the Plaquenil again."      
       "What the hell does Reynolds think it is then, if it's not this 'Plaquenil'?"      
       "Well, he's not quite sure Ethan. He just said that it is really rare when Plaquenil would do something like it did to Ryan. He wasn't quite sure what it could have been but he was pretty confident that it was not the Plaquenil."       
       "What are you gonna do, Ryan? You going to try it again?                                                           

       Ryan was mid-way through chomping down on the pork chop bone as Ethan asked his question. With a quiet shrug and smile, Ryan answered the question while continuing to eat. Ethan began to feel as if that was all the medical talk anyone and everyone wanted to discuss for the day. Remembering that Carol Plummer had wanted him to bid hello to his family, Ethan switched subjects. While the family discussed Carol and the job Ethan was doing at her home, Ottis kept giggling like a small child. Dante continued to peer at his odd son until he finally couldn't hold it in anymore.                                                      

        "OK, Ottis! Fine, get it all out! What the hell is so damn funny!"                                                          
        Both Ethan and Ryan knew where this was going to go but decided in telepathic unison to let it ride.                                                                                                       

        "What do you mean what is so funny? You know exactly what is 'so damn funny!'" She used to look like Jenny McCarthy and now she looks like Jenny … Jenny … Craig!"                                                "Alright, that's enough, dammit!"                                                                      

        Dante Ferguson suddenly slammed his his fist on the table, bringing all the Fergusons to a sudden quiet. Yet it couldn't hold for long. When Ottis had previously spoke, pieces of yam, honey and buttered wheat bread and scraps of pork chop had squeezed past the barrier of his teeth, spilling out onto his face and plate. Always the one for general respect when it came to dining etiquette, Dante had neared his boiling point. Once a quarter sized piece of yam exploded from his moronic son's mouth, the fist hit the table. Of course this didn't do much but bring the situation to a teetering cliff, just before the final jump. Three seconds of silence and an angry, glaring Dante only brought the entire Ferguson clan to their knees. If this had been twelve years before the boys would have been ducking for their scalps. Yet age and life had tempered Dante's once near maniacal rage. Two of his boys were men and the other was experiencing a life that contained more adult, real-life struggles than most people would encounter in five life times. Dante's own slow but ever-emerging grin eventually tilted the balance, leaving the family to enjoy a moment that was all Ferguson. While the chuckles continued to erupt, Ethan glanced over at his mother, who was visibly capturing all of the moments in her mind. Ethan caught Diane's attention as her eyes settled upon her oldest son. In that brief, flash of an instant, Ethan recognized and felt all of his mother's fears and anticipations for the future. His laughter morphed into a smile, yearning to convince her that everything would be fine. Everything would be good again. Once again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    


                                                  THE END