Page 45 of Dr. Brandt

I heard Cameron stifle a laugh, prompting me to turn back and look at him, watching me piss off my poor kid.

“Moms, right?” Cam said as he smiled at Jackson with a wink. “Don’t worry, my mom would’ve done the same thing to me too, kid.”

“Sorry, Jacks,” I cringed at my behavior. “Instinct, I guess?”

Jacks yawned, his eyes looking heavy, and I knew it was time to let him quiet down and relax. “Mm-hm,” he said, gazing out at the horizon and watching the sun’s fiery sparkles on the water as it began to set.

“We’re going to be just outside; you cool in here?”

“All good, Mom,” Jacks mumbled in response, doing everything in his power to stay awake after the seizure.

This was normal. Routine. His life, and the reason I wanted these seizures eradicated. They stole so much from him, and it killed me to watch him go down like this, knowing that most kids his age were out enjoying their summer nights while mine was drifting off to sleep, unable to enjoy the night he was looking forward to.

“This way, Jessa,” Cam said, standing in the open area across the room. “The porch wraps around the house, and all roads pretty much lead to the beach patio.”

I glanced one more time at my exhausted and now passed-out son.

“I’m sorry we ruined dinner,” I said. “It seems that carne asada you were barbequing out here was on track to be delicious until the damn seizure ruined things.”

“You always apologize for things that are out of your control?” Cam questioned as he walked through his patio. Party lights were strung throughout, adding a lovely ambiance.

“No,” I said defensively. “Well, I have no idea. I apologize if I feel bad for upsetting someone or disrupting plans.” I shrugged.

Cam fired up his kitchen grill to heat the meat he’d had on the grill before he came to greet us, then walked to a nook area into which a large stainless-steel fridge was inset. “Beer? Water, tea, juice?”

“Beer is good,” I answered with a smile.

He reached in, grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap, and handed it to me.

“Don’t ever apologize for your son having a seizure.” He brought his beer to his lips, eyed me, and then used the barbeque fork to flip over the meat.

“I just feel bad, Cam,” I said. “You went out of your way—”

“Jessa, don’t worry about it,” he cut me off, turned off the flames, and pulled the meat onto a large platter that he’d prepared for us to make our steak tacos. “But you will have to apologize to me if you don’t eat this delicious meal that I spent a whole twenty minutes preparing. Follow me. The table is set over here.”

He led the way through banana leaf trees lit with outdoor pink and blue lighting.

We followed a narrow brick path through landscaping that must’ve cost thousands upon thousands of dollars, concealing a private eating area with views beyond the patio of the ocean. It was a trip to see how tropical and lush this spot was, knowing that just through the trees to our left, the crazy boob-lady lived. You would never guess there were homes so close by with the privacy of all this landscaping and the outdoor brick fireplace that sat off to the back of the table.

“This is really nice,” I said, sitting and placing a napkin over my lap.

“Thanks,” Cam said. He took a serving of rice, beans, and two steak strips and placed them on my stone plate. “Cilantro? I know you hate sour cream, but I can’t remember if you like cilantro?”

“Love it. Where’s the guacamole?” I asked with a smile.

“Shit,” he said after popping a bite of steak into his mouth and licking the flavors off the tip of his fingers. “Give me a sec.”

He jumped up and disappeared through the tropical forest of trees behind us.

I sat there, inhaling the salty air. I didn’t know what I would do without this refreshing, therapeutic ocean air after we moved. I was becoming way too spoiled by it.

“Don’t think about that shit now. One stressful issue at a time,” I said under my breath.

“So, when did you start talking to yourself?” Cam asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him after he smiled, sat, and then set a large stone bowl in front of me filled with guacamole.

“Jesus, did you cut down an entire avocado tree to make this tonight?” I questioned while my stomach growled at the sight. I couldn’t dip a tortilla chip in it fast enough.

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