Chapter 64
“When will the doctor be here?” Wearing boxer briefs, Brant pulls on a T-shirt, his hands reaching for jeans when I’d really rather him be in pajamas, in bed, behaving as my patient.
“In the next half hour.”
He opens a drawer and reaches inside, grabbing a bottle of Aciphex and tossing it to me. “Ask her what this is, and what it’s meant to treat.”
I examine the bottle, twisting open the lid to see it stocked with white tablets. “These aren’t Aciphex?”
“No.” He looks, for a brief moment, sheepish. “Jillian told me they were to control my blackouts.”
“Your what?” I hold up a hand. “Wait. We have so much to discuss it’s crazy. The majority of it concerning Jillian. Can you tell me everything in fifteen minutes?”
He shrugs. “I can do it in five.”
I pocket the bottle of pills. “Let’s sit on the deck and talk.”
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“When I was eleven, everything in my life started to change. It came with the onset of my family’s purchase of a computer, the introduction to advanced technology affecting more than just my interests. It was as if my brain turned on full force, in a hundred ways at once, an unlocking of a door that I had shut. I was always intelligent, but I was suddenly gifted. I began to apply the simple facts, concepts, mathematics that I knew, and used them in the way that the computer did – as simple rules that can work with each other to conclude an output. My brain was reborn and it was obsessed with discovery. I could think, could process more, do a hundred calculations in a minute, but I also was bombarded with colors, images, thoughts… more than I could handle at one time. I’d want to build three things at once. Or have two different opinions on the same subject, at the same time. I’d argue with myself, presenting both sides of an argument, my mind understanding the nuances and opinions of either side and feeling strongly on both points.” He collects his thoughts, then continues.
“Everything became, in a series of months, maddening. My brain worked in overtime, and I was exhausted over it. At some point during that time, during that summer… That was when the blackouts started. My brain would go a hundred miles an hour then… nothing. There would be hours of time where I would black out. Say and do things I had no recollection of.”
He pauses and I wait for him to continue.
“Then, on October 12th… I woke up from a blackout in a child’s psych ward. Jillian was in the hospital. That was when the doctors and medical tests started. I don’t remember a lot of that time, but when I got out, Jillian moved into our house. I never went back to school, didn’t see my friends again, everything was focused on keeping me home, keeping my brain busy. We discovered I did better if I had a problem and focused on it. Complex math problems, or unraveling code to debug a virus… anything that involved complex thought quieted the madness. This was before commercial use of the internet, back when computers were basic input output computation tools. Data processors. That was about it. I had already learned to build a computer. When I was in the basement full-time, I began the focus of improving the machine, its performance, then—once that was solved—its capabilities.” He takes a sip of wine, glances at me.
“But the blackouts continued. My parents… they were worried. Worried I would have another occurrence of whatever had happened in October. So I was put on a sedative, something to keep me calm. It stopped the blackouts, but I couldn’t think on it. It dulled everything, including my ability to process intelligent thought—at least not on the same level as before. I grew increasingly quiet, lost interest in computers, in everything. So…” He shifts, lifting a foot and placing it against the stone wall. “Jillian and I made a deal.”
