Week 3 Story: Brothers, Keepers

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 Brothers, Keepers

“Mother used to maintain some sense of egalitarianism among the three of us,” Jefferson stated flatly to Chloe.

They were sitting together at the rim of a large concrete drainage ditch below a crosstown highway bridge. Jefferson shifted gently side to side letting the skateboard  he sat on roll beneath him. The wheels hung on the ditch’s hard brim. Chloe’s back lay in the grass beyond letting her legs dangle down the rough gray slope. She stared at the back of her boyfriend’s maturing shoulders. The plywood nose of Jefferson’s skateboard nudged her thigh with every reciprocating roll.

“What changed?” Chloe asked after a long pause.

Jefferson shrugged his shoulders. He had an answer. At least the voice in his head had an answer. He wasn’t ready to recognize it yet. That thought, he decided to himself, will stay my own for a little while longer.

“I know why,” cracked a voice approaching from behind the two. “Because Carter’s a little bitch,” Roose chided. Roosevelt  and Carter both set the rear skateboard wheels on the lip of the concrete bank beside Chloe. Tipping the boards’ nose up so both feet could rest on the deck, they each leaned in until they dropped into a glide down the ditch’s steep slope. Roose whooped as he rolled across the bottom of ditch and up the opposite side followed closely behind by Carter.

Carter didn’t reply. His posture validated the affectionately smug comment his middle brother had just made.

Out of the three boys, Carter was the youngest. He had inherited his mother’s fair looks but had been spared her bipolar demeanor. The boys’ late father had bestowed on the family a benevolent sense of equality and justice. He had been a moral compass that guided the diverse personalities of his three sons with a firm, mentoring love. His warm character had seen past the psychological inconsistencies of the boys’ mother and treasured her despite the cycles of mania and depression that dominated her monthly routine.

Through the relationship that their mother and father shared with each other, a standard had been set by which they would raise their family. Weaknesses and strengths would not define each boy. 
Autonomy would be encouraged and nurtured, but no one part would be better than the whole. Each boy would be taught to find his vocation and engage it with honor and pride. These lessons would be delivered with care and banter.

That is how they had lived, Jefferson thought. But now, it was up to him to bear that bittersweet burden of leadership.

Since their father had passed away, their mother’s grief had set in motion a progressively erratic sequence of mood swings. The first time the boys woke up to their mom being gone, it was scary. Despite the intense panic all three boys had felt, Jefferson had to hold it in. As he left interval phone messages on their mother’s cellphone, Roose had tossed her room looking for clues to where she had disappeared to. Carter had wrapped himself up in her blanket with his hands over his ears to block Roose’s profanity laden streams of shouting. She had come back home late that evening without speaking a word, crawling onto her overturned mattress to pass out with no acknowledgment of her surroundings.

Her disappearing events became a numbing re-occurrence. The boys had tried to follow her, but she would wait until they were at school or asleep before she would leave. Her manic moments became less enthusiastic and her depression grew darker. Through all her solemn abandonment, Carter would often wake up to her tight embrace and quiet sob. Jefferson would find notes of encouragement on the refrigerator door. Roose would find money in his sock drawer.

Although months had passed, time had nearly stopped for the fragmented family. Routine had become an anchor among chaos. Jefferson and Chloe had grown closer as they edged toward graduation. With her affection and reassurance, he had rediscovered his father’s voice inside his head. Roose had become the group’s Sergent-At-Arms, ready to staunchly provide for and defend his brood against all challenges real or imagined. Carter had learned to love and despise his mother equally. Despite his internal turmoil, he dedicated himself to his older brothers and his mother in an attempt to marry compassion with acceptance. Regardless of the splintering fate bestowed upon the young men, the brotherhood refused to fall apart. Together, the three had begun to heal. 

Author's Note: Through Narayan's narration of the Ramayana, he tells the tale of the betrayal of the king, Dasaratha, by his wife Kaikeyi in the story "Two Promises Revived." In the Ramayana, the king is the father of three sons. In this particular tale, he has determined to abdicate his throne to his son Rama against his wife, Kaikeyi's wishes. Kaikeyi is not the mother of Rama, rather she is the mother of Bharata and she wishes for her own son to be crowned king. Despite her devious, albeit successful attempt to seize the throne for Bharata, the king's three sons stand up for each other with wholesome reverence. In this way, I wanted to craft a narrative that drew a picture of similar reverence among contemporary characters. In my story, the mother could be a combination of Kaushalya, Sumitra, and Kaikeyi, but mostly the latter of the three. Rama, son of Kaushalya, is portrayed as the oldest son, Jefferson. Lakshmana, son of Sumitra, is portrayed as Roosevelt (Roose). Bharata, son of Kaikeyi, is portrayed as Carter. Finally, Sita is portrayed as Chloe, Jeffereson's girlfriend. Together they learn to accept the dramatic transition they find themselves in while leaving a subtle acknowledgement of continuing catharsis.

  

Bibliography:

"Two Promises Revived" by  R. K. Narayan from The Ramayana.