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Confusion, sadness, and some sort of empathy filled my bloodstream. With so many emotions swirling around, a rush of tears built up, blurring my vision. “After everything you’ve just shared, there’s still something I don’t understand.”
“Yeah. Ask me anything.” Softly spoken, he ran a finger under my eyes.
Worry caused me to cover my lips with my fingers, a preventative way to stop my emotions from bubbling out. Taking a deep breath, I dropped my hand to my lap and managed to blink the tears back in. “What does any of it have to do with the coffee plantation? If you were, pardon my language, so deep within yourself, why take a trip to a developing country?”
Rising, he tugged me into the living room, offering me a cozy and comfortable spot on the couch. I sat after he did.
“It was the weirdest thing. Now, I’m not known for flights of spontaneity,”
Hearing his statement made me lightly laugh. No, Carter was the total opposite; a planner to the core.
“There was a study being done out of one of the universities there. A study between the correlation between caffeine and epilepsy, so I had to try to get some answers or find a cure or do something. All expenses were paid, and all throughout the study, I would receive top medical care, so it was a win-win.” His face relaxed, and he leaned into the back of the couch. “Let me explain. Some researchers link high caffeine to more intense seizures, whereas there are some scientists who see some co-relation in people like me, that ironically, a higher caffeine intact seems to slow the rate a bit.”
“A bit?”
“Remember how I said it was a genetic abnormality?”
So much information had been forthcoming, it was hard to remember all the details, but still, I indulged him.
“Something triggered on one of my chromosomes, or in, I forget which. But it happened deep within the DNA structure itself.” His head tipped to the side. “Please don’t ask me to explain it, as I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”
“Fair enough.” My head bobbed.
“Anyway, there are a few scientists and researchers who believe the higher ingestion of caffeine slows the rate of seizures. Enough that the anti-epileptic drugs were keeping things relatively balanced.”
It was so much to unpack. I blinked rapidly and tried to understand everything he was saying. In my head, it was like a movie scene where graphs and vector images of chemical compounds floated past in a weird montage.
“And what happened?” I hated to think my presence in this small town had any effect on it. It just didn’t make any sense.
“I’d met Diego, learned everything I needed to know about coffee bean production, and added the best puns into standard conversation. I learned with certain types of coffee beans, roasted in a particular way, they had a positive effect on me like a couple of researchers had predicted.”
He tossed a quick glance into the kitchen. The bowl of chopped veggies still sat beside two untouched cups of brewed coffee.
“Until recently.”
“Because?” I pushed closer, still trying to make sense of it all.
“A few months ago, I’d changed the way the beans were being roasted. Totally my fault.” He blew out a puff of air which rattled the hair hanging over his forehead. “I figured I knew better than the researchers, but it turns out – surprise! – I don’t understand my body well enough on a molecular level, and the change totally threw my system off. Like way off. I’m working on a new batch of roasted beans, and while the jury is still out, the way these beans are roasted, the theory is they should work alongside the medication instead of against it, like has happened lately.” He reached across the table and produced a leather notebook, handing it to me.
It was thick and heavy, and after he gave me a quick nod, I rifled through it. The start of the book was June 1, and each page had a long, detailed list full of coffee bean jargon, the long medication names, times, foods he’d eaten, and how he felt emotionally. Each day was pages of material.
“As part of the ten-year study, I need to keep exceptional details of everything.”
Ten years? That was a long time, and if he started… I closed the book which felt like a personal diary rather than a list of day-to-day activities. “So you’re close to the end of the study?”
“Oh yeah, I hope so, but I might keep adding to it. If I can find the right balance, it could help people with the genetic abnormality like I have, which I understand is a pretty small group, a percent of a percent kind of thing. But if I can help just one other person…”
That was the Carter I loved. Always willing to help another out. Even at great personal sacrifice.
My back pushed into the sofa. “Isn’t caffeine a chemical or something? Wouldn’t a stimulator work against someone with a sensitivity to chemicals, or whatever it is that causes a seizure.” Sheesh, there was so much I needed to learn.
“I don’t fully understand the deep level of how the brain works and regulates everything and why what works on someone else doesn’t work on me, but I do know after some genetic testing, there’s a marker on one of my genes, or something like that, which wears down the way my body responds to the drugs, so after a while, there’ll be nothing chemical to help me, at least not as it stands now, and I’ll need to find other natural ways to deal with my disease, if it, you know doesn’t…” He shrugged, but this time I did know.
If the disease didn’t kill him first. What a lot of pressure to weigh on a person.
“And the coffee helps?”
He grimaced. “Ironic, isn’t it, especially considering Dr. Moins in Biology class warned of the dangers of caffeine.”
