Dr. Brandt: Chapter 42

A week into Jackson’s therapy, I finally felt like my world had stopped spinning wildly out of control. Jacks was doing very well, and I couldn’t be prouder. When he started, he could barely move his mouth, and it nearly killed me not to hear his voice. Now, he grumbled, and his expressions were also starting to improve.

The most frustrating thing beyond Jackson’s rehab was dealing with my parents and their seemingly never-ending stream of demands on me.

“Jessica Ann,” my mom said, her crystal blue eyes as stern as they always were when I didn’t listen to her advice. “I just want you to follow your head and not your heart. I know that sounds ridiculous, but you have a son who will require a lot of your—”

“Stop, Mom. Just stop,” I said, interrupting her. I’d heard enough of this crap all week. “I know the last person you want my son and me around is Cameron. For the millionth time, I know that. You’ve hated him since he took off in college, and yet, you should be thanking him for doing it because he pulled off a miracle and brought Jacks back to us. But, instead, you and Dad still can’t forgive him.” My heart was racing under her fierce gaze as I dared to talk back to her. “And do you want to know the worst part?”

“Do tell me,” she put her perfectly manicured hand on her hip like a sassy five-year-old. “What could be the worst part of Cameron Brandt getting you pregnant and then, with all of his expert knowledge, choosing to pay more attention to getting back into bed with my daughter than fixing the son he suddenly claims to love?”

My blood pressure was through the roof, and my heart was pounding in my head. “I never told him about the pregnancy. You and Dad judge him for actions he never got to prove and decisions he made without all the important facts.”

“Judge him for actions he never got to prove?” my dad interjected, his voice booming with frustration. “He proved himself well enough to me, Jessica. He managed to convince you that his happiness was most important, and that’s why you kept things a secret.”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” I said, worn down to my core. “He’s proven he’s a wonderful father. I’ve witnessed all of it first-hand.”

“A wonderful father, eh? I struggle to imagine that,” my dad scoffed. “You need to start thinking around that man. I see the nurses gawking at him. I see everyone, including my daughter, staring at him like he’s God’s gift. Maybe he is, and that’s fine. But you are making horrible judgment calls because you are caught up with this man in the worst way.”

“I’m not,” I paused, tears in my eyes, frustrated as hell that my parents were piling this on. “I will not stand here and listen to this. Not anymore. You’ve turned an amazing week for my son into a hellish nightmare for me, and for what? To prove that I was wrong to date Cameron again?”

“We’re not trying to prove anything, honey. We’re trying to help you. We see the way you look at Cameron. When you were with him in Mexico, Jacks got sick. We’re just concerned about your happiness. That’s all,” my mother added.

“I understand that I got caught up in a fantasy with Cam, Mom,” I said, caving to this bullshit because I needed it to stop before I had a literal stroke from my blood pressure spike. “But I trust myself now. I just hope you’ll trust me too.”

“Oh, honey,” my mother took me into her arms. Her floral perfume reminded me of my childhood and the constant hovering my parents did. “We just want to be sure when we get on that plane in two hours that you’re doing the right thing with Warren.”

I hugged her back. “Mom, please, for once in my life, just trust that I’m a good mom and love my son. I can’t have you and Dad going insane from my choices,” I said, pulling back and locking eyes with her. I looked at my dad, “Trust me. I’m a good daughter and mother.”

My dad walked over to me, his white hair brightened by the sun as it beat on us in the parking lot of St. John’s. “We’re sorry,” he said, hugging me, “we’re just concerned.” Then, he stepped back, and his brown eyes bore through me, “Be wise. I’m glad you have Warren here. If you didn’t, I don’t think we’d be able to leave, but now, we know you’re in good hands.”

“I’m going to be fine. Enjoy your flight, and please, just support me for once.”

Jesus H. Christ, just go! Today was the first time in two goddamn weeks that I was leaving the hospital, and this was my sendoff?

The thought of leaving the hospital turned me into a wreck in the first place, and getting an ear load of this crap from my parents was enough to send me to the crazy house. There were no winning arguments with them, and I probably wouldn’t hear from them for at least a week because I wasn’t being their obedient daughter.

“Enjoy your evening with Warren. Tell Jacks we love him again, and we look forward to updates,” my mother said, becoming her usual aloof self, and I had no energy to give a damn at this point.

“I will. Fly safe.”

We gave our final goodbye hugs, and now, all I wanted to do was talk to Warren. He, of all people, understood how horrible my parents could be to me in the name of their love.

A nice evening out, a few laughs, and someone I could depend on sounded nice. Jacks was with Cam, so I knew I could get away safely. Mom and Dad were out of here, and now I could focus on Jacks without hearing about how irresponsible I’d been for running off with Cameron and taking him back after all these years.

Later that night…

“I’m telling you,” Warren said, straightening his tie, “Jacks is one strong kid. Cameron said he’s even impressed with Jackson’s advancements in physical therapy.” He looked at me through the mirror where I stood behind him before he turned around and smiled at me. “He’s already in the rehab center of that hospital, so that means he’s coming along well.”

I forced a smile; I’d been doing that a lot lately with Warren. It was strange. Part of me needed him right now, and part of me needed him gone.

“I know,” I finally answered Warren. “Are you sure we should be going out to dinner to celebrate? Maybe we should be bringing the dinner to Jacks.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Warren said, smiling. “Yes, I’m sure we should be going out tonight. You need it. This afternoon you couldn’t stop telling me how happy you were that your parents were gone and that getting out would do us good. Let’s get away, and let your mind unwind some.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Listen, I’m heading back to New York for a couple of days now that everything is settled here. It will be nice to have some one-on-one time to sort things out, you and me. There’s nothing to worry about with Jackson. You said that you feel so much better now that he’s in the rehab center. Stop allowing your mind to run all over the place. There is no need for that.”

I couldn’t deny how very off everything felt. Being back with Warren—if that’s what anyone would call this—wasn’t sexual. There’d been none of that. It was like having a roommate or a close support system, and there’d been no pressure in the romance department. And when I thought about it, that’s what Warren’s and my relationship had been like for quite some time before I even called off the engagement.

I smiled. “Well, you and I are not officially back together,” I said, hoping he was assured we weren’t a couple. “But I appreciate you being here for Jackson and me.”

“Let’s just go get dinner,” he said, dismissing me as he always had. “I have reservations, and then I’m leaving on a red-eye flight tonight. So, let’s stop talking about all this stuff that stresses us out and focus on how we will work together to support Jackson once he’s released from the hospital.”

“That sounds nice,” I said.

After a delicious yet exhausting meal with Warren, I was glad to be back at the hospital. I felt good after having eaten, but all I wanted was to see my son. I didn’t want to think about relationships; more than that, I was sick of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Or how I should or shouldn’t feel. I just needed to see my son.

I walked into the hospital, noticing how different this place felt at night. Strangely, it was more peaceful and more promising. At least it seemed that way since my son had awoken from his coma.

I walked into the serenity of the pediatric ward, seeing the holographic images on full display for the children. This place was unique and such a beautiful environment for the kids.

“Ms. Stein,” Sally said. She was the evening receptionist at the entrance of the pediatric ward, and she knew me intimately by now. “You look well. Did you do okay, leaving for a while?”

I smiled at her. Her long chestnut hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail, and her glasses highlighted her deep brown eyes. “I wish. I honestly don’t think I will have it together until I leave in a month with Jacks,” I said.

“Feelings of guilt?” she questioned with a sympathetic grin.

“How’d you know? Sheesh, not even Warren could pick that up,” I laughed.

“Most parents who leave for the first time come back with the same guilty expression you have. It’s a normal emotion given everything you’ve been through.”

“Very true,” I said, being reminded that I wasn’t the only parent going through a nightmare like this with a sick child. “I need to stop thinking I’m the only mom worried about her child like this.”

“That’s very common too,” she said with her friendly smile. “Don’t beat yourself up or you’ll be no good to Jacks when you see him.”

“How’s he been doing?”

“Well,” she looked at her Apple watch and chuckled, “since you’ve been gone, he’s finished up with the speech therapist.”

“The speech therapist came tonight?” I said, stopping her from saying another word.

“Yes,” she looked at me skeptically. “Ms. Stein, all is well. The therapist said she enjoyed the progress that was made tonight.”

“Thank you, Sally,” I said, then pulled my purse strap in tighter and nearly speed-walked through the halls to get to the elevator.

This is why I haven’t left the hospital. And this is why I shouldn’t have gone out for dinner tonight. I can’t believe I missed the speech therapist’s visit!

Why wouldn’t Cameron have called me? Oh, right, because I shoved him into the friend zone, and the ‘Dr. Brandt only’ category. I’m fucking everything up by thinking I’m doing the right thing…and now this?

The elevator doors opened, and I rushed out as carefully as possible, knowing this floor housed patients recovering like my son. The last thing I needed was to hurt someone else while berating myself for abandoning my son once again.

I walked briskly down the walkway that led to the numerous rooms on this floor. There was a glass half-wall to my right. Beyond the railing of the glass was an impressive sports arena. Kids in recovery would go there to throw Nerf balls, actual balls, or holographic balls while working with their therapist to improve their motor skills or just to help them stay active.

I’d previously toured this rehabilitation area with Jacks, and we found the sports arena intriguing. Unfortunately, Jacks couldn’t stay in the place due to certain flashing lights possibly provoking a seizure.

Thankfully, out of this nightmare came a silver lining: my son hadn’t had one seizure since Cameron operated on him.

“Where’s Jackson?” I questioned, unsure of where he could be at this hour. “He’s not in his room?”

“Ms. Stein, he’s with Dr. Brandt and Dr. Brooks,” Nurse Julia answered.

“I’m sorry, but where? And why?”

Cameron, what the hell are you doing?

I heard Cam’s laugh coming from the arena.

“Jackson insisted, and Dr. Brandt thought it would be fine to go to the arena to get him out of the room for more than just the therapist appointments,” Julia went on.

“Thank you,” I said.

I turned and walked to the glass wall where the sounds came from below. I covered my mouth, tears stinging my eyes when I inched toward the glass railing and leaned against it, marveling at the sight below me.

“All right, Champ,” Collin said, wearing his blue scrubs. His short blond, messy hair was nearly white under the arena’s lighting. “Your mind thinks you’re right-handed, and that’s the only way you can throw a ball, right?”

“We’re going to change it,” Cameron added, looking strikingly handsome from this vantage point in navy scrubs that matched Collin’s.

I looked at Jacks, sitting in his wheelchair, and I covered my heart when I saw his right foot move. “Oh, God,” I whispered, choking back tears, finding excitement in the smallest things. This was huge.

Jacks let out a sound. His head was braced in the wheelchair because he still didn’t have the ability to hold it upright for too long.

I smiled again.

“Shit,” Collin said when Cam hit him in the chest with the Nerf football. He took the regular football, smiled at Cam, and rocked back on his left leg before he fired the ball back at Cameron. “That’s BS, dude. You told me you couldn’t throw with your left arm.”

“I can’t,” Cameron said, laughing and looking at Jacks. “Nice, though, right?”

Jacks moved his foot again while Cameron walked over to get the dud-throw that Collin threw with his left arm.

Cam was still a great shot, but I wasn’t so sure he nailed Collin in the chest by throwing that with his left arm.

“Throw that shit back to me,” Collin said. I rolled my eyes at their profanity. They couldn’t resist even when some kids or families had to be around, listening to doctors act like idiots.

“I just threw it at you, Jacks saw it, and I watched you cry like a little bit—” he stopped himself from finishing the word, and I noticed that Jacks seemed more animated than he had since he woke up from surgery.

He absolutely loved these two, acting like stooges.

“Throw it again, left hand, because I’m doubt—” Collin was hit in the gut this time, and he bent over, holding in his curse words.

A little girl squealed and laughed. “He got you, Dr. Brooks. Right in the nuts!” she declared, her cute voice echoing through the arena and up to me.

I closed my eyes, and my lips tightened as I shook my head. Glad these two are setting great examples on the floor, I thought in humor, unsurprised.

“Hey, Jacks!” Two other kids walked over to where Jacks sat in his wheelchair. The little boy who called his name rubbed the top of his shoulder carefully. “Feeling good?”

Jacks moved his head just enough to let me see from here that his answer was yes.

“Me too. I want to play football,” the other boy said, his head wrapped in bandages.

“Not with the way Dr. Brandt throws with his left hand, kid,” Collin said, still recovering from the nut-shot Cameron sent his way.

“My name’s Tommy,” the boy said, correcting Collin with annoyance. “I’ll be just fine.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Cam said, walking over to where the three kids stood around Jacks. “However, having just operated on you, I’m not clearing you for the regular football yet.”

“It wouldn’t be fair, Dr. Brandt,” Tommy said. “Jacks can’t play, so we can’t play.”

“Don’t start that. We’re all here to help each other work harder.” Cam smiled at Jacks and knelt. “Jacks would be pretty upset with me if I didn’t let you play so you can get better faster. I’m sure of that,” Cam said, looking at Jacks and reaching to rub his knee. “Right, kid?”

I could see the movement in Jacks, and it appeared he agreed with his dad.

“Listen,” Collin said, stepping up to the group, “how about we all use the holographic balls to show Jacks that we can throw a football with our left arms just like he’s going to. In fact, we better learn how to now because I have a feeling Jacks is going to beat us all when he gets there.”

“Holographic balls? Really, Dr. Brooks?” Cameron said, standing up and laughing.

“I should like to have more kids, and your left arm is about to end all hope for Elena and me if we use a ball that can do damage,” he answered.

“All right,” I heard another voice, and it was Jake. “I’m off shift and ready to do this!”

“Awesome,” Collin said with a devilish grin, throwing the football into Cam’s chest. “Cam throws a mean ball with his left hand, Dr. Mitchell. You’ll be impressed.”

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” the kids said in unison.

Happiness covered me like a warm blanket on a chilly autumn afternoon. It was comforting to watch Cam and his friends give Jacks hope and encouragement for his recovery in this manner. It was heartwarming, and I needed to see it more than I knew.

Cameron wasn’t giving up on Jacks in any way. He’d shown that to me in other ways, but seeing him prove that Jacks could train his brain to throw with the left arm instead of using his right arm was monumental for Jacks and me.

Even if he wouldn’t regain use of his right arm, he still had his left arm to throw with. How strange that something so minor could impact my emotions in such a huge way. This was all so much more inspiring than I’d expected.

They said that I should expect miracles to happen this month, and after not speaking to Cam much since everything happened, I wondered if it would take a miracle for us to ever work again.