Where else is there to look? I'm no longer sure if I even want to sleep on his bed. I cross the hall to the next room. I would look in the nursery/guest room, but I found nothing of use there. I open the door to find . . . stairs? A staircase lines the left sides of the room, along the outer wall. Just from the hall light, as well as that from a window along the front, I can see lines of coats and dresses hanging to my right. This room must be used as an overflow to the walk-in, probably for seasonal and outdated clothing. I can't see any drawers that would have extra sheet sets, though.
I notice that the hall lights are dimming again. I rush to the bathroom, as it would be the next logical place to have a linen closet. At least towels, if no sheets as well. I barely make it to the door and switch on the lights before those in the hall go out. As soon as the lights come on, I know I made a mistake. I ran blindly to the room to the left of the bath.
Only one bulb is lit, but it's enough to see by. A large bed dominates the right side, covered in a bright red and green quilt. The walls are a dusty pink, with borders of lavender. A dresser is on the fall wall, between the right wall and the window. An armoire is placed to the left of the closet door, which is in the corner with the far wall. A barren desk, and chair, is on my right, the only thing on it appears to be a toy pony. I'm in the bedroom of the sister, the one left untouched since my mom was here.
For a room that hadn't been used for years, it is actually in good shape. There doesn't appear to be much dust or cobwebs, as if it is cleaned fairly regularly. In fact, it doesn't even smell musky. Ever so slightly floral with a hint of lemon, again. I look at the toy pony, something about it seems off. It is the only toy, small object in the entire room that I can see. I walk over to the desk, only to stumble on a plastic bag partially hidden between it and the chair. I pick it up as I sit down.
In it, there is a book still in its shrink-wrap plastic. The title of the book is Applied Psychology of Early Childhood Development. What's that doing here? A few scraps of paper also drop from the bag. Most are too small to read, probably the receipt. The print is fairly faded, but I can just make out a date on one of the larger pieces. November, two years ago.
My dad was an art professor, studio and history. He wouldn't need this book. If he had a student over, wouldn't they have remembered this book after almost two years? Never mind that a student was upstairs. Sam's mother was a nurse, but she had moved over to administration. I doubt she would need to keep up on such a narrow subject. She also wouldn't need someone up here.
Dad's sister died when she was nine, or when my dad was nine. Either way, she wouldn't have had this book, especially so recently. I look again at the pony. A light purple-pink, with dark purple hair for its mane and tail. A magenta stripe run through both. My dad's sister died about forty years ago. There's no way she could have a Twilight Sparkle My Little Pony. Correction, a Princess Twilight Sparkle alicorn pony, She has a horn and wings. This is less than ten years old. And yes, I feel a twinge of pathetic angst that I know this as a twenty-seven year old man. Sam doesn't look like the "brony" type, even though I've only known him a few days, so whose is this?
Do the math. Sam just turned fourteen, meaning he was born when I was thirteen and conceived when I was twelve. From the MBA diploma, Sam's mom had gotten married about two years after my dad's father died, when I was four or five. That's a gap of about eight years. Why did they wait so long to have Sam? Dad would have been well along in his doctorate by the time they got married. He had no worries about money, not with his inheritance. Her degree didn't take as long, and she was able to get promoted and helped found a clinic without too much trouble. Even if they had fertility issues, they had the money to get help immediately, or even adopt sooner than that.
There's only on conclusion. I place the book and Twilight back on the desk as I get up. I need to talk to Sam, but it is well after midnight. It will have to wait til morning. I turn off the light as I open the door, having doubts about what to do, when I notice Sam's door across the hall. In the split-second before the notion sensor turns on the hall lights, I think I see a pale blue light emanating from under Sam's door. The hall light cancels it out, though. I stand there for a minute, still, waiting for the light to click off.
When it does go out, I see the light under Sam's door again. Maybe he left a light or his computer on. He shouldn't be awake this late. Maybe he just woke up, say from a nightmare, and he doesn't want to bother me. Regardless, I need to check on him, and now is just as good as a time as any. I cross the hall and open his door before the monitor can turn the lights back on. I don't even knock. I just push the door open.
"Sam, are you up? We need to talk?" My voice drops as a crash in, stunned by what I see.
Sam is awake, and really up. He is sitting buck naked by his computer. He swivels his chair around at my barging in. He tries to cover himself with his hand, but he is in such a state that one hand won't do. He takes his other hand away from the computer, leaving it on.
"I forgot to lock the door. I forgot to lock the door." Sam whimpers in a monotone, an octave deeper than I have even heard him. He can't stop talking.
I turn to the computer, embarrassed for Sam being caught. On the screen is someone naked. A man. It's me. What?!? It's me naked in the master, from earlier in the evening, when I almost had to . . .Almost as bad as a state Sam is in.
I can't speak for a minute, the only one talking is Sam in an endless refrain.
"Turn off the computer. Put some clothes on. Do not finish what you were doing! We are going downstairs. We need to talk about your sister. Our sister."
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