My jaw tightened as I figured out what she was really saying, and I stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. “But it’s because you think he’s like Rain Man. That considering his problem, he did a good job.”
“No . . . you don’t understand. There’s a spectrum of Asperger’s, from mild to severe—”
I barely heard her. “And you respect him for the same reason. But it’s not as if you really liked him.”
“No, wait—”
I pulled away and got to my feet. Suddenly needing space, I walked to the railing opposite her. I thought of her continual requests to visit with him . . . not because she wanted to spend time with him. Because she wanted to study him.
My stomach knotted, and I faced her. “That’s why you came over, isn’t it.”
“What—”
“Not because you liked him, but because you wanted to know if you were right.”
“No—”
“Stop lying!” I shouted.
“I’m not lying!”
“You were sitting there with him, pretending to be interested in his coins, but in reality you were evaluating him like some monkey in a cage.”
“It wasn’t like that!” she said, rising to her feet. “I respect your dad—”
“Because you think he’s got problems and overcame them,” I snarled, finishing for her. “Yeah, I get it.”
“No, you’re wrong. I like your dad. . . .”
“Which is why you ran your little experiment, right?” My expression was hard. “See, I must have forgotten that when you like someone, you do things like that. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
She shook her head. “No!” For the first time, she seemed to question what she’d done, and her lip began to quiver. When she spoke again, her voice trembled. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. But I just wanted you to understand him.”
“Why?” I said, taking a step toward her. I could feel my muscles tensing. “I understand him fine. I grew up with him, remember? I lived with him.”
“I was trying to help,” she said, eyes downcast. “I just wanted you to be able to relate to him.”
“I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t want your help. And why is it any of your damn business, anyway?”
She turned away and swiped at a tear. “It’s not,” she said. Her voice was almost inaudible. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Know what?” I demanded. “That you think something’s wrong with him? That I shouldn’t expect to have a normal relationship with him? That I have to talk about coins if I want to talk to him at all?”
I didn’t hide the anger in my voice, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw a couple of fishermen turn our way. My gaze kept them from coming closer, which was probably a good thing. As we stared at each other, I didn’t expect Savannah to answer, and frankly, I didn’t want her to. I was still trying to get my mind around the fact that the hours she had spent with my dad were nothing but a charade.
“Maybe,” she whispered.
I blinked, unsure that she’d said what I thought she had. “What?”
“You heard me.” She gave a small shrug. “Maybe that’s the only thing you’ll ever talk about with your father. It might be all he can do.”
I felt my hands clench into fists. “So you’re saying it’s all up to me?”
I didn’t expect her to answer, but she did.
“I don’t know,” she said, meeting my eyes. I could still see her tears, but her voice was surprisingly steady. “That’s why I bought the book. So you can read it. Like you said, you know him better than I do. And I never said he’s unable to function, because obviously he does. But think about it. His unchanging routines, the fact that he doesn’t look at people when he talks to them, his nonexistent social life . . .”
I whirled away, wanting to hit something. Anything.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice low.
“Because if it was me, I’d want to know. And I’m not saying it because I wanted to hurt you or insult your father. I told you because I wanted you to understand him.”
Her candor made it painfully clear that she believed what she was saying. Even so, I didn’t care. I turned and started up the pier. I just wanted to get away. From here, from her.
“Where are you going?” I heard her call out. “John! Wait!”
I ignored her. Instead I picked up the pace, and a minute later I reached the stairs of the pier. I pounded down them, hit the sand, and headed for the house. I had no idea whether Savannah was behind me, and as I neared the group, faces turned toward me. I looked angry, and I knew it. Randy was holding a beer, and he must have seen Savannah approaching because he moved to block my path. A couple of his frat brothers did the same.