June 16, 1984
"Daniel?" Sam asked, knocking on his bedroom door.
"What?"
She flinched at his sharp tone. "I just thought you might want to talk."
"Well, you'd be wrong!"
She refused to be deterred. "Daniel, you haven't said a word to anyone since Mom died."
"I'm speaking to you, aren't I?"
"Barely."
"Sam…"
"Daniel, your birth parents died on your eighth birthday, and your adoptive mother died on the day that you should have graduated from high school. I would have issues with that."
Daniel stood up angrily, and Sam jumped back in surprise. "Sam! Just…" He faltered. "Just leave me alone!"
Sam bowed her head in defeat. "If that's what you really want."
He sat back down. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing. I just thought you might want to…"
"Sam, you have a tendency to come in and ask me if I want to talk when, in fact, it's you who wants to talk."
"That bad, huh?"
"Sam, you wanting to talk is not a bad thing."
"Oh, really?" She asked, hotly. "Then why aren't any of you GUYS talking? Hmmm? You, Dad, and Mark are hiding behind your respective masks of male bravado, not saying anything to anybody…"
Daniel tried to cut in, but she steamrolled past him. "Yes, Daniel. You're hiding behind some invisible force called bravado- the fancy word meaning male ego. I'm constantly the go-between. As if I don't have my own grief to worry about."
She began to cry and Daniel looked at her in a new light. She was the only woman in the household, still trying to find her place. And her primary mentor and guide- her mother- had just passed away.
"Sam." He said, gently.
She didn't even acknowledge that he had said anything.
"I'm sorry. I forgot that you lost Mom too." By now, she allowed him to pull her into a brotherly embrace.
"I'm worried." She whispered.
"About what?"
"Mark and Dad."
"That'll sort itself out."
"I sure hope so."