The early-Springtime breeze drifted onto Sam's face as he paced up toward the front door, tapping the slanted door-knocker against its metal frame as he arrived. A pause, followed by weighted footsteps and a creak of the rusting hinges eventually brought his father's figure into view.
"Sam? What have I told you about keys?" John asked impatiently, "I'm in the middle of a job. If I don't get Singer's car fixed by tomorrow-" He hesitated, then smiled. "Well we'll worry about that later."
Sam couldn't help but smile too. Uncle Bobby was a family friend and as much as he wrongly confided in alcohol to keep him sane, he was far from evil. "I'm sorry; I must have forgotten them today." Sam lied, knowing full well that they had fallen to the bottom of his bag and that he was just too lazy to dig them out. "But if there's anything I can do to help, dad, I'll be in my room."
"Sure, son... Actually, there was something~" John's voice trailed off to silence as his son dashed past him, up the stairs to his room, carelessly shutting the door behind him. "But I guess it could wait …" he added as he drifted back to the garage, a look of concern plastered across his war-stricken face. Picking up the wrench, John suddenly found himself trying to process each thought that came to him, repeatedly getting stuck on one particular secret that he'd sworn never to reveal to Sam, until today. He was still uncertain as to why he thought it had to be today. However, instinctively, John knew that for their relationship to stay strong, he'd have to tell him soon…
Meanwhile, Sam lay on his bed, waiting for his laptop to load. His law essay was due in two days, and as much as he wanted to plan his birthday gathering, he knew where his priorities lay. Once loaded, Sam let his fingers dance avidly over the keyboard until the words formed neatly arranged paragraphs.
An hour had passed, the conclusion had concluded and Sam felt a sigh of relief approaching.
Before shutting down his laptop, he decided to briefly check his e-mails, knowing that his inbox would have built up since the last time he checked. However, as he began to scroll through the list of letters, he became conscious that his father hadn't signed out after borrowing his laptop the previous day. His gut reaction was to sign out straight away, but curiosity swiftly got the better of him as he began to snoop through the long list of read mail. Most of them appeared to be bills and spam and Sam soon began to lose interest, until his eyes unexpectedly latched onto a message that appeared to contain his name. Tentatively opening the mail from 'Mary', Sam felt his skin grow cold. He skimmed through each sentence, trying to digest what he was reading. His heart boiled with regret, his face froze with horror. "What is this?" he questioned still absorbed by the words that seemed to haunt his eyes and churn his stomach.
Knock, knock, knock.
Sam jumped, quickly slamming the laptop shut, and pushing it away from him. "Uh, yeah," he murmured, awkwardly choking on his words.
"Dinner's on the table." John replied, with a worried smile.
"Sure, dad. I'll be right down. I just need to, uh, save my work."
John nodded and headed back down to the kitchen. Sam sat still for what felt like a lifetime. Did he really just read that? Surely he couldn't have. His brow scrunched with anxiety as he whispered; almost breathlessly, "Do I really have a brother?"