Chapter 11 chapter Ten

Not knowing where to go, I drove aimlessly on the street for a while, and what happened that night kept replaying in my mind.I'm still mad at myself, at Tim, but everyone else is fine.But I'm still furious at what Savannah said on the pier. Barely remember how it started, one minute I was thinking how much I loved her, more than I could ever imagine; the next minute we were arguing.I was angry with Savannah's excuse, but I didn't know why I was so angry.I'm not close to Dad, and I don't think I know him very well, so why am I so angry?Why are you still angry?A small voice in my head asked, "Because Savannah could be right?" It didn't matter, what if it was true or not?Will anything change?And what does all this matter to Savannah?Along the way, I kept going from anger to acceptance, and acceptance back to outrage.Also found myself reliving the image of breaking the bridge of Tim's nose, which only made my mood worse.Why is Tim coming over?Why not someone else?It wasn't me who started the provocation.

And Savannah... yeah, I should go back and apologize tomorrow.I know Savannah believes what she says, and she wants to help as much as she can.If she's right, I do want to know a little bit more, if that really explains everything...but then go back and apologize after I hurt Tim?What would Savannah think?Tim is her best friend, and if I swear to God it was an accident, would it really work?And what about my attitude towards other people?Savannah knows I'm a soldier, but now that she's seen what's going on, will she still see me the same way?It was past midnight when I got home.I walked into a dark house, glanced at Dad's study, and walked back to the bedroom.Dad was asleep of course, and he went to bed at a fixed time every night.The schedule stays the same, I know Savannah said it.

I climbed into bed knowing I couldn't sleep, hoping to start over the night, at least from the moment Savannah gave me the book.I don't want to think about what happened anymore, about Pa, or Savannah, or breaking Tim's nose.But all night, I just stared at the ceiling, trapped in these thoughts and couldn't escape. After getting up, I heard Dad's voice in the kitchen.I'm still wearing the clothes I left the day before, but I don't think Dad will notice. "Good morning, Dad," I muttered. "Hey, John. Would you like some breakfast?" "Yeah," I replied, "Is the coffee ready?" "It's in the coffee pot." I poured myself a cup.Dad was cooking breakfast, and I casually read the headlines in the newspaper, knowing that Dad would read the front page first, and then the traffic section.Dad doesn't read the life page or the sports page, which is another routine.

"How was last night?" I asked casually. "Same." Dad didn't follow up with my question, which wasn't surprising at all.He just kept turning the scrambled eggs in the pan with the spatula.The bacon sizzles and the next thing Dad turns, I already know what he's going to say. "Would you like to put some slices of bread in the oven?" Dad left for work at seven thirty-five in the morning. When he went out, I flipped through the newspaper, not interested in the news, but just didn't know what to do next.I don't want to go surfing or even get out of the house.I was about to crawl back into bed to sleep when I heard a car pull into the driveway.I guess it was someone who came to hand out flyers, or a salesman, who asked if he wanted to clear the gutters, clean the roof or something.I was really startled when I heard the knock on the door.

I froze when I opened the door, completely unprepared.Standing outside the door was Tim, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Hi, John. I know it's early, but I hope you don't mind my visit." Tim has a surgical tape on the bridge of his nose, and the skin around his eyes is bruised and unbearably swollen. "Oh, of course I don't mind." I leaned back, still trying to process the fact that Tim was here. Tim walked past me and into the living room. "I almost couldn't find where your home is. The last time I sent you back, it was already late, and I didn't pay much attention to how to get here. It took me a few times to remember how to get here." Tim laughed again, and I Noticed he had a bag in his hand.

"Would you like some coffee?" I asked, coming back from surprise. "I think there's room for a cup in the coffee pot." "No, don't bother. I've been up almost all night, so it's best not to drink coffee. I might have to lie down when I get back." I nodded head. "Hey, I gotta say... about last night... I'm sorry, didn't mean to..." Tim held up his hand to stop me. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it. I should have paid more attention to myself and caught someone else." I looked Tim over and said, "Does it hurt?" "It's okay. Just a ER stay." It's too late. I waited a while to see the doctor, and the doctor has to find someone else to fix the bridge of my nose. There may be a lump on the nose in the future, but I hope this will make me look less polite." I laughed, and said to I feel ashamed that I'm still laughing. "I'm still sorry." "I accept your apology and appreciate your flexibility. But that's not what I'm here for." Tim gestured to the sofa. "Do you mind if we sit down? I'm a little dizzy. " Sitting on the edge of the recliner, I leaned my elbows on my knees and watched Tim.Tim sits on the couch, flinching as he adjusts, setting the paper bag aside.

"I want to talk to you about Savannah, and what happened last night." Hearing Savannah's name brought everything back to my mind, so I stopped. "You know Savannah and I are good friends, right?" Tim didn't wait for me to answer. "We had a long chat last night at the hospital, and I just came here to ask you not to be mad at her. Sarah Wenna knows she's at fault, and she knows she shouldn't be judging your father, and you're right." "Then why isn't Savannah here?" "She's at the construction site right now. Someone has to be in charge until I recover. Besides , Savannah doesn't actually know I'm here." I shook my head. "I don't know why I'm so angry." "Because you don't want to hear it," Tim said in a steady voice. "I always feel the same way when I hear people say my brother. My brother Alan, he is Autistic." I looked up and said, "Ellen is your brother?" "Yeah, how about it? Savannah mentioned it to you?" "A little bit." Other than Ellen, Savannah I said that Allen's brother is very patient, and that it was because of this brother that she decided to major in special education.

Tim on the couch feels the bruise under his eye and winces again. "So you know, I agree with you, Savannah has no right to say that, and I told her that. You remember when I said she was innocent sometimes? That's what I meant. Savannah wanted to help people, But it's not the right way." "It's not just her fault, it's my fault. Like I said, I'm overreacting." Tim continued to look at me intently. "Do you think what Savannah said makes sense?" I clasped my hands and said, "I don't know, maybe not, but..." "But you don't know for sure. What does it matter, right?" Again Tim didn't wait for me to answer. "Forget it, don't you? I remember my parents and me and Ellen. We didn't know what to do for a long time. After all this time, you know what I think now? I feel like It doesn't matter anymore. I will still love my brother, and I will continue to take care of him. I will take care of him for the rest of my life. But... after knowing his situation, the way we get along has indeed improved. When I know his situation... I Guess I'd stop expecting him to go our way. It's easier to accept my brother now that there are no expectations." I'm still digesting Tim's story. "What if he's not Asperger's?" I asked.

"Probably not." "What if I think so?" Tim sighed. "It's not that simple, especially if the symptoms are not obvious. The diagnosis of developmental delay is not as simple as pulling some blood tests. It may only go to a certain point, and you feel that it is indeed possible, but that's it. That's all, and there may never be a way to be sure. From what Savannah told me, I honestly don't think anything will change. And why should it change? Your father keeps working and raising you...you expect What does a father do?" I thought of what Tim had said, and the image of Dad flashed through my mind.

"Savannah bought you a book," continued Tim. "I don't know where it went." I honestly admitted. "Here I am. I found it in the house." Tim hands over the paper bag, which for some reason feels heavier than it was yesterday. "Thanks." Tim stood up, and I knew the conversation was almost over.Tim walked to the door, turning around with his hand on the handle. "If you don't want to look, you don't have to look, you know?" "I know." Tim opened the door, stopped again, and I knew he wanted to say something more, but unexpectedly he didn't turn to look at me again.

"Can I do you a favor?" "Of course." "Please don't break Savannah's heart, please? I know she loves you very much, and I just want her to be happy." At that time I You know, my instincts about Tim were right, and he loves Savannah too.Tim walked to the car and I stared at him from the window, pretty sure I was right. I put the book aside and decided to go for a walk.When I got home, I still avoided watching it.I can't say why, but I know I'm a little scared to face the truth. As the hours passed, I tried to force myself not to be afraid, and spent the afternoon reading through the book, thinking about everything about Dad. Tim was right, there really was no test to know for sure, no pattern to follow, and it was impossible for me to be sure that Dad was really like this.Some people with Asperger's syndrome have very low IQ, and some people don't, like severe autistic people, like Dustin in the movie Rain Man.Hoffman's character, in some ways, is genius.Some patients go about their lives without anyone knowing they have a developmental disability; others must spend their entire lives in nursing homes.Reading about geniuses with Riasberg's, who excelled in music or math, taught me that these are as rare as geniuses in general.What's more, I now know that when Dad was young, few doctors knew about the symptoms or characteristics, so if there was a problem, my grandparents had no way of knowing.Usually children with Asperger's syndrome or autistic children are labeled as mentally retarded or excessively timid. Even if they don't enter a nursing home, parents just hope that one day, the child will really grow up and no longer be shy.Autism and Asperger's syndrome can be roughly distinguished in this way: the former lives in its own world; the latter lives in the world of ordinary people, but lives in its own way. According to this standard, many people can be said to have Asperger syndrome. In this way, there are indeed some indicators that make Savannah feel this way.Including Dad's unchanging schedule, lack of social life, and lack of interest in anything but coins, hoping to be alone without interruption.These sound like quirks that most people can have, but Dad's situation was different.Others may voluntarily do the same thing over and over again, and Dad seems to be forced to live his life according to these already made decisions, like an Asperger's patient.At least, I learned that this situation might explain Dad's behavior.If this is the case, it's not that Dad doesn't want to change, but because he can't.While all this is up for debate, I feel much better in my heart.And I was finally able to explain two questions about my mother that have been bothering me for a long time: 1. Why did she fall in love with Dad; 2. Why did she leave us?I know that these two questions may never be solved, and I never thought about getting to the bottom of it.But being in a quiet house and letting my imagination run wild, I seem to be able to describe the scene: a man who is usually quiet is in a restaurant, discussing happily with a beautiful but poor waitress about coins.This waitress thinks of a better life every day. She may or may not have flirted with this man, but this man is obviously obsessed with her and comes to the restaurant to report every day.Over time, the waitress realized that this man was patient and kind, and would make a good father.The waitress may understand that such a meek person is unlikely to get angry, let alone make a move.Even if there is no romantic love between the two, this is enough, so the maid agreed to get married, thinking that she could sell the coins after marriage, and even if she couldn't live happily ever after, she could still be comfortable.After she got married and became pregnant, she realized that it was impossible to sell coins for cash, and realized that her whole life might be wasted on a husband who had no interest in her.Maybe it was unwillingness to be lonely, or maybe it was just pure selfishness, no matter what, she wanted to escape, and when the child was born, she immediately took the opportunity to run away. Or, I thought to myself, maybe not. I guess I'll probably never know the truth, but I really don't care.But I really cared about Dad, wondering if there really was a short circuit or two in his head.Suddenly I learned that Dad had a set of rules for his life that helped him get on with it.Maybe these rules are not too common, but my father still managed to raise me and make me the person I am today.For me, that's enough. This is my dad, who has done his best, and I now fully understand.Finally I closed the book, set it aside, and found myself staring out the window, trying to swallow the choke in my throat, and thinking how proud I was to have this dad. Dad came home from get off work, changed, and went into the kitchen to cook pasta for dinner.I watched Dad's every move, knowing I was doing what Savannah had done before, and it made me furious.Knowledge is wonderful, it can completely change a person's original thinking. I noticed how precise Pa's movements were: Carefully unseal the noodle box, put it aside, and then carefully stir-fry the ground meat in the pot at a right angle.I knew salt and pepper was next, and after a while he did.Then came the canned tomatoes, and sure enough I was right again.As usual, Dad never asked me how my day was, preferring to sit back and prepare dinner.Yesterday I thought we were strangers, today I understand that we may have been like this for the rest of our lives.But for the first time I'm not bothered anymore. I didn't ask questions at dinner, knowing Dad wouldn't answer.Instead, I told him about Savannah and all that we were together.After dinner I help with the dishes and continue my one-sided conversation monologue.When the dishes were done, Dad reached for the rag again, wiped down the countertop one more time, and adjusted the salt and pepper shakers until they looked like they were before Dad got home.I feel like Dad wants to add a sentence or two, but I don't know what to say, but maybe it's just an illusion created by me trying to comfort myself.But that's okay.I knew it was time for Dad to go into the study. "Hey Dad, can I see your latest pennies? I want to hear about everything." Dad stared at me, as if unsure of what I said, then stared at the floor.Dad touched his thinning hair, and I saw that the bald area on the top of his head seemed to be getting bigger again.When Dad looked up at me, he looked terrified. Finally he said: "Okay!" We entered the study together, and I felt my father gently put his hand on my back. Suddenly, I just felt that these years, this was the time when our father and son were the closest.