It was almost formulaic, how one of them going on the defensive triggered a reaction in the other – like the Equation For Butting Heads – but this time, John's reaction was muted because in the end, he was exhausted, not just physically right now, but mentally and emotionally. But this wasn't about Heather, it was primarily about Sam. John wanted to see them both happier than they'd seemed to be in a long while, and hearing that 'you too' told him that the concerns he'd raised to Mary – that he was scrutinizing the situation too much and seeing things that weren't all there – were as inaccurate as she'd said. He still had to try and trust his instincts sometimes.
"There's rough patches and then there are things that are something else entirely," he said, rubbing his face. "Now you running off when you found out about the baby, that was a rough patch. Understandable, even. This, though." He gestured to encompass Sam, wordlessly pinpointing a world of things, from the drinking to, yes, even the failed attempts at hiding what had likely happened to him.
"Did you every consider, Sammy, that you're not just running from 'a rough patch', you're running from having to admit some hard truths about your life?"
He raised the hand he'd just gestured with, as if bracing for a flurry of arguments to the statement. "Now, God knows I've been off target with you more times over your life than anyone could ever count, but to me, it seems you're avoiding accepting that the life you're trying for, you're only doing it because you wanted it so long, that you feel obligated into making it work even when it's not. You built up that dream of being normal, having a normal life, you built it up so big and grand and you wanted to have it just like you saw it, but I'm thinking you've already realized, deep down, that you might just be reaching for something that's not possible for any man, realized it and are running from having to admit it."
He took a drink from his mug, staring off at the wall. "But admitting that – that there are some things in your life you can have and some you can't, that you can do some of the normal things, but not all of them – it doesn't make your life a failure and it doesn't make you a failure. But this," he said, looking back to Sam, his gaze steady, "what you're doing in trying to fit yourself into a life that's driving you mad, that apparently a lot of people are seeing that it isn't giving enough back to you to make it through this – that's failing yourself, son."