THE SIDE EFFECT.

DaQuan Jones lived in a project in Brooklyn, New York, with his identical twin brother, Amari, and his mom, Marquita and dad, Lamar. Family and friends called Amari, Mari, and DaQuan, Quan. The family-owned and operated a successful soul food restaurant in the neighborhood. Marquita cooked in the kitchen and managed the books. Lamar served as the host and greeter. Quan and Mari would wash dishes and sweep up after school. Lamar and Marquita feed the homeless. They called one of their steady customers the Professor. He never took a meal without telling them some scientific facts. The Jones laughed at the professor’s active imagination. He told his tall tales with realism. He’d have the patrons in the restaurant spellbound. Their neighbors respected Jones and admired them.            

“Well, Sir, we’ve been lucky so far. I think we’ll be okay.”

“Mr. Jones, you never when your luck will change. No garbage pickup. Rodent problem. Fire. These things can happen, Mr. Jones. I suggest you consider my offer. I’ll be back in two days to get your answer.”

.

           Quan and Mari realized at an early age there were advantages to being an identical twin. The special bond they shared made them feel special. In the fourth grade, they pretended to read each other's minds. They memorized passages from books or a set of numbers. Mari would roll his eye as if he were in a trance. Quan would use a predetermined keyword to start their act.

When Marquita dresses them in the same school outfits, they would pretend to be each other for the entire school day.

           The boys loved being the center of attention from family, friends, and strangers. People asked the same questions. “What does it feel like being a twin?” or  “Are you Mari or Quan?” or “Do you like being a twin?”

           But sometimes being a twin is annoying and dangerous. People ask the same questions. “Who’s the smartest?” or “Who’s the most athletic?” or “Who gets the most girls?”

One day on the way home from school, a group of boys wanted to fight Mari. They approached Quan instead. It took some fast talking to convince the boys he was not Mari. They punched him in the stomach, just in case he was lying.

 In their eighteenth year, their world changed.

The neighborhood crime boss, The Chief, stopped by for dinner. My father sat him and his two henchmen at the best table. Quan and Mari hid and listened.

“This is a real moneymaker you have here, Mr. Jones. Is it insured?”

“Yes, sir. I have an insurance policy.”

“I have got to a better insurance plan for you. For a monthly fee, my associate and I can guarantee nothing happens to your place.”

The boys watched as he escorted the Chief to the door.

           In school the next day, Quan complained of acute stomach pain and dizziness. The school notified Mari’s parents of his condition. They gave permission for Quan transportation to the hospital. Lamar and Marquita drove by the school, picked up Mari, then drove to the hospital.

           The doctor examined Quan all night. They couldn’t figure out the reason for his sickness. It was mid-morning when the doctor summons them to her office.

           “Good morning, Mr., and Mrs. Jones. I know it’s been a long night for you. How are you holding up? Can I offer you something?”

           Mrs. Jones sighed. “No, thank you. Can you tell us what is wrong with our son?”

           “Have you ever heard of Sickle Cell Anemia?”

           Mr. Jones looked at Mrs. Jones.

           “Yes, we heard of it.”

           “From the  DaQuan’s symptoms, and from the test results, he has Sickle Cell Anemia.”

           “How did he get it? My wife and I don’t have it.”

           “The trait can lay inactive in a person's system for years.”

“What can we do next?”

“There are treatments, Mr. and Mrs. Jones. I will outline our course of action.”

The next few months were hard for Jones. Quan came home, but he wasn’t himself.

He tired easily. Complaining about his burning lungs, he’d wheeze and cough. It seemed he spent more time sitting than standing or walking. Mrs. Jones injected him with his daily dose of medicine, but each time the relief was shorter. The rumor spread throughout the neighborhood of Quan’s condition. One evening the professor ate his usual dinner but waited until the crowd had gone.

           The professor motioned the Jones to his table. Mari joined them.

           “I mean no disrespect, but I heard about your son’s Sickle Cell. I believe I have the cure.”

           The Jones looked at the professor. Mr. Jones shook his head.

           “You have the cure for Sickle Cell?”

           “Yes. I’ve been working on it since I lost my daughter to Sickle Cell ten years ago. I know it can work. But there may be side effects.”

           “The Jones looked at each other, then at Mari.

           “You say your potion can help ease my brother’s pain? How do you know?”

           “That’s the thing, young man, I don’t know. But for all your family’s many kindnesses, I offered.”

           “Thank you, professor, but we can’t take a chance on some potion to save our son.”

           The professor begged his pardon and walked out.

           The next day, as promised, the Chief and his henchmen to visit. The conversation was brief.

           “Mr. Jones, have you thought over my onetime offer?”

           “Yes, sir, my wife and I talked it over and we decline your offer.”

           “Don’t worry, we’ll be around if you change your mind.”

           The next couple of months were a living Hell for DaQuan. His symptoms became more severe and more frequent. Mari spoke to his parents about giving the professor’s potion a try since conventional medicine wasn’t working. His parents dismissed the idea. They liked the professor, but they would not let him try an untested potion on their son.

           Mari watched as his brother grew worse each day. Watching  Quan suffer was like watching himself suffer. On one of the worse days, Mark sat on the side of Quan’s bed.

           “Quan, I hate to see you suffer like this. I will tell you something that may sound crazy. But you have to promise not to tell mom or dad.”

           “I promise.”

           “You remember the homeless guy called the professor?”

           “Yeah. The funny-looking guy with the horn-rimmed glasses.”

           “That’s him. He claims that he has a cure for Sickle Cell.”

           Quran sat up in his bed.

           “That’s right. A cure. Mom and dad won’t let him try it on you because it could have side effects.”

           “What kind of side effects?”

           “The professor doesn’t know. It could realm or kill you. Do you want to try it?”

           “I hurt so much, Bro, I’d try anything,”

           The next night, Mark spoke to the professor. The Professor instructed Mari to bring Quan to an address he’d written Mari agreed.

The next morning the two boys arrived at the address. An abandoned warehouse in East New York. Mari helped Quan to a seat.

“Good morning, young men,”

“Good Morning, professor.”

“The first thing we must do is verify Quan’s blood type. I will draw blood and test it.”

The professor pulled out a needle and two test tubes. After sterilizing Quan’s arm, the professor began.

Mark watched closely for the next three hours as the professor busied himself in the lab. Drawing blood and testing it repeatedly. Finally, he produced a potion. The professor injected Quan. Quan's body stiffened, and he passed out.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones arrived out of their restaurant to find the front window smashed. The Chief made good on his threat. The police arrived and took their report. The Jones cleaned up the mess before Mari came to work.

Quan woke an hour later. Besides a headache, he had no side effects. We thank the professor. He advised Mari to watch Quan for the next couple of hours.  Mari brought Quan home, helped him to bed, and turned on the television. An hour later, Quan's breathing became labored. He sat up in bed, Mari tried to restrain him. Quan extended his arms and flung Mari across the room.  Quan sat up and looked at Mari. Quans eyes were fireball red. He was the strongest boy he ever knew.