was late and I can’t say I was paying that much attention. I drove by a couple of times before it finally registered.”
He smiled again, and I realized he was carrying a small paper sack.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked, snapping out of my shock. “I think there still might be a cup left in the pot.”
“No, I’m fine. I was up most of the night, and I’d rather not have the caffeine. I’m hoping to lie down when I get back to the house.”
I nodded. “Hey, listen . . . about what happened last night,” I began. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
He held up his hands to stop me. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t. And I should have known better. I should have tried to grab one of the other guys.”
I inspected him. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It just happened to be one of those nights in the emergency room. It took a while to see a doctor, and he wanted to call someone else in to set my nose. But they swore it would be good as new. I might have a small bump, but I’m hoping it gives me a more rugged appearance.”
I smiled, then felt bad for doing so. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
“I accept your apology,” he said. “And I appreciate it. But that’s not the reason I came here.” He motioned to the couch. “Do you mind if we sit? I still feel a little woozy.”
I sat on the edge of the recliner, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. Tim sat on the sofa, wincing as he got comfortable. He set the paper bag off to the side.
“I want to talk to you about Savannah,” he said. “And about what happened last night.”
The sound of her name brought it all back, and I glanced away.
“You know we’re good friends, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Last night in the hospital, we talked for hours, and I just wanted to come here to ask you not to be angry with her for what she did. She knows she made a mistake and that it wasn’t her place to diagnose your father. You were right about that.”
“Why isn’t she here, then?”
“Right now, she’s at the site. Someone’s got to be in charge while I recuperate. And she doesn’t know I’m here, either.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know why I got so mad in the first place.”
“Because you didn’t want to hear it,” he said, his voice quiet. “I used to feel the same way whenever I heard someone talk about my brother, Alan. He’s autistic.”
I looked up. “Alan’s your brother?”
“Yeah, why?” he asked. “Did Savannah tell you about him?”
“A little,” I said, remembering that even more than Alan, she talked about the brother who’d been so patient with him, who’d inspired her to major in special education.
On the couch, Tim winced as he touched the bruising under his eye. “And just so you know,” he went on, “I agree with you. It wasn’t her place, and I told her so. Do you remember when I said that she was naive sometimes? That’s what I meant. She wants to help people, but sometimes it doesn’t come across that way.”
“It wasn’t just her,” I said. “It was me, too. Like I said, I overreacted.”
His gaze was steady. “Do you think she might be right?”
I brought my hands together. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but . . .”
“But you don’t know. And if so, whether it even matters, right?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Been there, done that,” he said. “I remember what my parents and I went through with Alan. For a long time we didn’t know what, if anything, was wrong with him. And you know what I’ve decided after all this time? It doesn’t matter. I still love him and watch out for him, and I always will. But . . . learning about his condition did help make things easier between us. Once I knew . . . I guess I just stopped expecting him to behave in a certain way. And without expectations, I found it easier to accept him.”
I digested this. “What if he doesn’t have Asperger’s?” I asked.
“He might not.”
“And if I think he does?”
He sighed. “It’s not that simple, especially in milder cases,” he said. “It’s not as if you can pull a vial of blood and test for it. You might get to the point where you