“When it hits, it hits. Your age, your SAT scores, and your professional qualifications don’t have a hell of a lot to do with it. And it sounds like you had a few rioting hormones going on, too.”
A blush warmed Ty’s cheeks, mortifying him.
“So what’s the problem?” Finn said, being more perceptive than Ty had expected, but at least not ribbing him about the blush. “Because I’m assuming there’s gotta be a problem or you wouldn’t be wasting your time with me on a Friday night?”
“The problem is, she doesn’t want me. I told her I was falling in love with her…” And had been arrogant enough to believe that was all he needed to do. “And she told me she didn’t do relationships because she’s an alcoholic in recovery. And then she told me to get lost.”
“How did you respond? When she told you she was an alcoholic?”
“I told her it didn’t matter to me, that I still wanted to try.” He picked up the beer, ran this thumb down the perspiration on the glass, still not sure what he’d said that had made her so mad. “That I wanted to help her.”
“Ty Sullivan to the rescue, huh?” Finn said, the sympathy in his voice making Ty feel like a bit of an ass.
“I guess it sounds arrogant, but I was in shock, and feeling hurt that she hadn’t told me already.”
Finn shrugged. “It doesn’t sound arrogant; it sounds exactly like you, Ty. You’ve always had an overdeveloped superhero complex.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Come on, Ty, remember when we used to play superhero super-soaker wars when we were kids and you always wanted to be Batman?”
“So what?” Ty said, getting annoyed. He’d already been given the third degree about this by Zelda, he hardly needed to take another hit from his kid brother.
“Do you remember why you always wanted to be Batman?”
“Sure, because Batman had all the cool gadgets and he was real.”
Finn’s eyebrows popped up in ironic amusement.
“You know what I mean.” Ty qualified. “He didn’t have special powers, he was smart, and he worked for it. And that’s how he saved people. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Here’s my point, Ty.” Finn leaned forward, earnest again. “You wanted to be Batman, because he was a real guy. You never wanted to take the easy road. You planned and you worked hard and, because you wanted to help people, you carried on arming yourself with cool gadgets—like your law degree and your bar certificate. That’s just who you are and I figure it goes right back to that little kid who found his Mom
bleeding out on the bathroom floor and had nightmares for years afterwards because he couldn’t save her from that.”
“I still don’t see why that’s a bad thing,” Ty said, feeling surly and defensive. What was so wrong with wanting to help people, wanting to protect the ones you loved?
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s a good thing. And it totally stands to reason that if you’re falling for Zelda, you would want to be able to help her and protect her, too. But sometimes people have to save themselves, Ty. I know guys who’ve been through the twelve-step program and an important part of the recovery process is knowing they can save themselves. They need their autonomy. You probably scared the crap out of Zelda, coming on strong like that with your superhero routine as soon as she told you she was an alcoholic.”
“But I didn’t mean it like that. I know how strong she is, how smart, how real. I would never want to take that away from her. Or undermine her.”
“Then maybe you need to tell her that?”
The tiny spurt of hope was squashed like a bug. “It wouldn’t do any good. Not if she doesn’t have any feelings for me. To her it was just a weekend hook up; she made that pretty damn clear.”
“Did she? Are you sure about that? Isn’t it possible that you just spooked her, Ty? This thing between you has happened fast and I’ll bet being in the program also means she has to be cautious about making drastic changes in her life. So you coming on strong like that was bound to spook her even more. But did she actually tell you she didn’t have feelings for you, or did she just tell you all the reasons why it wouldn’t work?”
It’s not that I can’t admit my feelings, it’s that I don’t want to.
The surge of hope felt almost painful as he recalled Zelda’s words, the one phrase that he’d gotten stuck on the million or so times he’d relived the conversation they’d had in the taproom. “I guess you could be right. She didn’t tell me she didn’t have feelings for me, she just told me she didn’t want to tell me what they were.”
“Okay, then maybe you need to find out what those feelings are before you give up on her?”
“But how will that help? If we can’t have a relationship because of her recovery?” he said, trying not to let the surge of hope blind him to the reality of the situation. “If us being together messed that up for her, I could never live with myself.” Thinking Zelda didn’t care for him had been tough enough, but forcing her to admit her feelings and screwing up her recovery in the process would be far worse.
Finn nodded. “I’ll admit I’m not an expert on this stuff. But if there’s one thing you’re good at, Ty, it’s coming up with a plan. I happen to know that because when you were Batman, Casey and Ro always got to be Superman and Spiderman, which meant I always had to be Robin.”
“Yeah, and as I recall you used to whine about it every damn time, so I don’t see how it’s relevant.”