Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“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.”
My mouth dries out as I forget to swallow. “A deal?”
“I stopped taking the medication, and she covered for any blackouts I had. At that point in time, close to the completion of Sheila, I was in the basement 90% of the time, with her for the majority of that. My parents—I was only seeing them at meals and before bed. Any blackouts I had, Jillian concealed. In exchange, I focused on getting Sheila finished and ready for our meetings with investors.”
“You were, what? Twelve at this point?”
“Yes, had just turned twelve.”
“Not old enough to make that deal.”
“I wasn’t a typical twelve-year-old. I was intelligent enough to make a quantified decision of risk versus reward. And since Jillian was the one most at risk, and since she was the one spending time with me… I made the decision.”
“No. She made the decision. How much did she make in your initial sale?”
“A few million dollars. Ten percent of the deal.”
I keep quiet, allow him to pull his own conclusions of my thoughts on the matter. After a moment, he resumes.
“When I was around twenty, we started BSX. Stopped selling off my developments and instead moved them in-house. Our income increased ten-fold and I decided I had enough. Enough money to live the rest of my life in wealth. Enough residual income that my children wouldn’t ever have to work. I went to Jillian and told her I wanted a change. Told her I wanted to resume the medicine.”
“Why?”
He sighs. “Not knowing about my blackouts… it was a constant fear in my life. I’d have them without even knowing it. Jillian would wear a long-sleeve shirt, and I’d wonder if she was covering up bruises from my touch. We were still, for the most part, sequestered from the outside world. And I wanted to live, to have a life, to work in an environment where I could collaborate with others, have relationships, friendships. I wanted normality, and I was willing to sacrifice my career for it. Willing to set aside computers and live a muted intellectual life if it meant security in knowing and controlling my actions. In knowing, more importantly, my lack of unknown actions.”
“What’d she say?”
He snorts. “She didn’t take it well. Thought it was a horrible idea. Brought up the projects we had ongoing. Printed out our ten-year plan. Cursed me for wasting my talent. But she came around. Tracked down my old doctor, the man you met this morning at Jillian’s. Put him on salary for BSX.”
Some sort of a growl comes from my mouth. He laughs, holding out his arms. “Come here.” I move, from my chair to his, the chaise longue not big enough to allow anything other than my curl on his lap, his arms coming around and hugging me to his chest. “Dr. F tried me on a different medication, whatever’s in that bottle. It was supposed to be a downer with caffeine, something to calm me while keeping me alert, focused. It worked immediately. My brain processes were as strong as ever, my blackouts stopping.”
I wait for more, the moment stretching out until my curiosity can’t hold it in any longer. “And?”
“That was it. I’ve been on that medication for almost two decades. Haven’t had a blackout since.” I lean back and look up at him. His mouth is tight, eyes distracted. Working out the problem before him.
I lead his horse to water. “So… you believe that? Or do you think that she’s been lying to you? Hiding blackouts from you?”
He drops his eyes to me and I see the pain in the lines around his eyes, the tightening of his jaw when he swallows. “She’s… been like a mother to me. I’ve depended on her for so long. I can’t imagine—I don’t know why she’d do that.”
Bullshit. He knew exactly why she’d do that. But I wasn’t going to insult his intelligence by spelling it out. Knowing him he probably had half of a Venn diagram already completed in his head.
“There’s another issue.” He looks away, sighs, readjusting me on his lap. “Jillian says she’s had me declared incompetent, with herself appointed as my conservator.”
“Conservator? Meaning she’d be in control of your business, your finances?” I frown. “Can she do that?”
“The question of my competency could certainly be challenged. I can see a valid argument for the possibility that another one of my personalities was making choices that negatively affected my life, and that that decision-making ability should be removed from my person all together.”