The Thing About Samuel

Chapter Forty-One - Samuel

Samuel - July 2019

The journey back from Lake Windermere had felt like the longest journey ever. Sam had sat with Billy and Isla the whole way home, his dad had barely spoken to him and was actively avoiding conversation for what felt like the first time ever in their relationship, and had been nursing the secret of the notebook since that morning.
​When his dad had been invited out that night with the parents from the camping trip, apparently as Billy's dad had some announcement to make, Sam had begun to formulate a plan to find the whole letter and finally get the answers that he wanted. He knew that it must be somewhere in his parent's bedroom. He just had to hope that his grandma, who had volunteered to stay over in case Jason fancied a later night, would fall asleep long enough for him to spend time searching through their bedroom without worrying about her waking up. Even though Sam insisted that at sixteen he was fine to be on his own.
​Sure enough, following the marathon of Emmerdale, Coronation Street, and EastEnders that filled the gap between seven PM and nine PM that evening, and after several cups of tea, his grandma's eyelids grew seemingly heavier and heavier. He watched patiently as she slowly nestled into the sofa and her head sank into the cushions. Once her breathing had fallen into a steady, rhythmic pattern, Sam commenced his stealthy escape from the living room. As he ascended the staircase, one tentatively placed foot at a time, Sam tried to recall where his dad was sat in the room when he entered that night, and also what he saw of his dad following him passing the notebook over to Sam.
​Before he knew it, he was in the room. Whenever he stepped into his parents' bedroom, an odd sensation would set every hair on the back of his neck on edge. He held his mum's notebook in his hands. Maybe she was here? He shook his head. He couldn't get distracted.
​His eyes glanced around the room. The wardrobe. The dresser. The bedside tables. Under the bed. A photo of his mum caught his eye on his dad's side of the bed. She was sat at her desk in the writing shed at his grandparent's house, laughing as the sun streamed in on her and her laptop through the small window. She looked happy.
​Sam, focus.
​He relived the memory. Walking into the room as he had done that night, to see his dad sat on the bed, a box behind him on the bed, and the notebook in his hand. As he stepped further in, he saw his dad smile at him and gesture for him to take a seat on the bed beside him. And then he sat, opposite the open wardrobe...
​The wardrobe!
And the box, his dad had a box. Sam frantically, and excitedly, leapt forward and slid the door open. He was careful not to disturb anything inside but as he pressed his face into his mum's and dad's clothes (as his dad had kept everything), he allowed his fingers to search the darkness at the back. And eventually, he found a box. The box.
​He sat back on the bed. The box rested across his lap. This was it. This could make everything else make sense. This was the last secret he and his dad had from each other, the last piece to the puzzle. His mum wanted him to read whatever was in here, right? After all, the notebook belonged to her, and whatever it was that his dad had removed from this notebook was written by his mum. So... ​
​He flipped the lid off of the box, and sure enough, amidst the items his dad had kept from years gone by, sat a few crumpled pages. As Sam lifted them out and set the box beside him, he could tell that these pages were creased in a way that meant they had been crumpled up entirely, and then flattened back out.
​Sam's hand darted to his mum's notebook excitedly, his chest pounding hard. He flicked open the pages, set the four word note out at the top, and then unfurled the loose crumpled pages until it roughly aligned with the tear running down the inside seam of the book.
​This was it...
​He began to read.
​'I know your secret.' Sam breathed in, and out steadily.
​'What did you say, Sam?'
The voice came from the doorway, and a sharp scratch of fear ran down his back and caused his body to go rigid. His eyes, wide in shock, fixated on his grandma at the door. Her eyes scrunched up, focussing on the papers in his hands.
​'What's that?'
​He could barely croak out a word before his grandma was lowering herself onto the bed beside Sam, her hand meeting his on the torn sheets of paper. She gently tugged them from Sam's grasp as she took her seat beside him. Sam observed, silently as his grandma's eyes scanned through the writing.
​She let out a sigh, but it wasn't an exasperation. It sounded more like she was reading something she already knew. What was in the letter?
​'Have you seen this before?' Sam asked.
​She gently shook her head. 'No, but your mum never failed to amaze me with her considerate nature and perception.' His grandma turned to Sam and took his hand in hers. 'You are very alike, you know.'
​Sam felt the warmth of her hand as it moved to his cheek. She smiled.
​'Your dad said you met someone at the Lakes.'
​Sam's heart pounded, again. Why would he mention Ryan to his grandma? Not quite sure if that was who she meant, but also failing to think of anyone else that it could be, he resolved to a simple shrug instead.
​She laughed a little. 'I do mean Ryan.'
​'You know him?'
​His grandma nodded. 'Oh yes. And I don't disagree with your dad on much, and I really shouldn't be sticking my nose in business between you and your dad, but as you two haven't said a word to each other tonight I assume you haven't talked about it much...'
​She was right, as she always was, of course. Sam's dad had barely spoken to him since they had got home from the camping trip. Not about anything beyond what they might eat each night, or what to watch next on Netflix. He hadn't even brought up Saunders Sixth Form again...
​'His name is Ryan Roberts.'
​'Roberts... like Mum?'
​His grandma nodded. 'One of the same.'
​'So, who does that make him to me?'
​'Family,' she replied.
​'Right...' Sam let the word sink in. Family. Is that what this was? Is that why Ryan wanted to talk to his Dad? 'I thought they were in love.' Sam sniggered, almost disappointed. 'Maybe Dad will go for Karen after all.'
​'Why would you think your dad would be interested in Karen?'
​Sam shrugged. 'She's been close to Dad. She knew Mum.'
​'She's a friend, Sam.' His grandmas hand made it to Sam's shoulders with a squeeze of comfort. 'A really good friend, but that's it. Karen has been there for your dad, your mum, and you through the last six years, and longer.'
​Sam thought about that for a second. 'I would be fine if Dad wanted to move on eventually, you know?'
​His grandma rubbed his hands affectionately. 'Oh, I know, love. And so does your dad. We never really know when we're ready to take that step though, you know? Sometimes we need a little helping hand. A little nudge.' She grinned.
​Sam felt a little embarrassment warming his body. 'Sorry, grandma. I guess I got everything wrong.'
​His grandma let out a chuckle. 'Not everything.'
​Sam's brow creased with puzzlement as he looked to his grandma.
​'What do you mean?'
​'Read the letter, Sam. It's for you, too.'
​With that, his grandma stood up, kissed him on the forehead, and then left the room. Sam took in a deep breath and thought over the past few minutes before turning back to the letter and beginning to read.