Philip couldn't believe how uncomfortable he felt sitting in the front seat of his father's car. He had earbuds in, concealed under his silky brown locks of hair. Some meaningless pop song was playing, though Philip wasn't paying attention to it at all. He was using them as a way to block out the sounds of his father's occasional sniffle or, God forbid, any actual conversation the man might try to begin.
Philip absolutely loved his father. That wasn't debatable. However, with the recent events, it was hard to ignore how... Damaged the man seemed. He rarely smiled. He got lost in his thoughts more often than usual. He was much too quiet and still. Even at fourteen, Philip knew something terrible was happening. Before everything, Philip remembered that Alexander was much like fireworks. Loud, exciting, and happy. Now, however, he was more like an extinguished fire. Cold. Dark. Still.
Looking back on it, Philip could remember the exact moment that everything began to go downhill. It had happened around a year ago. His father had received a letter telling him the fate of his friend, John Laurens. It told about how he'd been shot by a particularly violent man during a Black Lives Matter protest, mortally wounding him. The man had been arrested, of course, but Laurens didn't make it. He died in the hospital.
Philip had always liked Laurens, and was saddened by his death. He was always incredibly kind, and always brought small gifts for Philip and his siblings. For some reason, though, his mother seemed to dislike him. Philip suspected that his mother's feelings of him is what made him visit so rarely, despite the fact that it seemed to make everyone happy.
After Laurens' death, Alexander smiled a little less, investing himself fully into his work. The family saw less and less of him. Then they went on vacation to visit Philip's grandfather. That's when the affair happened. Thinking back on it, Philip remembered how his father seemed a bit sadder when they returned from his grandfather's, though Philip had naturally shrugged it off. He even managed to shrug it off when his father seemed to have less money with him. He shrugged it off when his father was gone more.
Of course, it all made sense once Philip read the Reynolds Pamphlet. Following that was the divorce, leaving Philip the only child in his father's custody. Once everything was finalized Alexander had taken everything that he had to his name and left, wanting to rent a small apartment in New York City.
They were on their way there now, and every mile that passed Philip became more and more worried for his future. Would he ever see his siblings again? What about his mother? Would she be alright? Most likely. In all reality, Philip worried about his Father the most. Even before everything bad started to happen, he'd never been the most stable man.
At a young age, Philip learned to always check the weather reports in case of thunderstorms. His father tended to freak out in the more severe ones, often either closing himself off from everyone or pressing against his nearest family member or friend. He also tended to stress when one of his children or his (now ex)wife came down with any sickness. As he got older, Philip began to notice the more subtle things, like how his father seemed to obsess over having enough money despite the fact that, from what Philip could remember, they'd never struggled financially in the past. Or even how he despised jokes about being gay, or jokes about suicide.
Philip knew why, of course, though he wouldn't tell his father how he knew. When Philip had turned ten, his mother had sat him down and told him about his father's shitty life. She explained about how he'd lost a lot of people in his life.
Maybe that was why he was taking the divorce so harshly. Philip pulled his ear buds out and looked over at his father. He was staring straight ahead, his fingers clenched tightly on the steering wheel. He had a sad, longing expression in his dark, chocolaty eyes. He'd been crying again, as was obvious due to the dried tear stains on his cheeks and his puffy red eyes.
"Pa?" Philip asked softly. No response. No change in his father's face. Not even a blink.
"Hey Pa..?"He tried again. Still no response.
Philip reached out and put a hand on his shoulder gently, feeling guilty as his father flinched at his touch and quickly looked at him. He put on a smile that didn't reach his pained eyes.
"Huh? What is it, Pip?" His voice was raspy, likely from crying. Had this happened a few months ago, Philip would've gotten upset over the nickname. Now, however, he couldn't help but smile at it softly. It made him feel oddly happy.
"I'm a little hungry. You told me to tell you when I wanted dinner, right?" Alexander nodded and returned his attention to the road as he turned, going in the direction of where the sign told them was the nearest McDonalds.
"Yes, of course! I was getting a bit hungry myself. I hope McDonalds is good. I'm honestly qite fond of it, even though I don't eat it often. That's probably for the best though, right? It's super unhealthy, both to your body and the environment. They do make a lot of donations, though, and a while back I heard..." Philip smiled as he listened to his Father ramble about the donations McDonalds has made to charity and talking about how they treated their animals.
It was almost like old times. Philip knew his father loved to speak, and he was good at it, too. He was more than happy to listen to his wild speeches.
"You know, I've always loved freckles. They're adorable, especially on you and..." Alexander's expression became pained and his voice trailed off. Philip felt cold and he wondered how much it would help if he managed to get his father to talk.
It probably wasn't healthy to bottle up your emotions like that.
"Me and who, Pa?" Philip asked gently, looking at his father curiously. He tried to keep himself calm as he noticed that Alexander was close to tears.
"... Pip? Do you remember my friend Laurens?" He asked softly. Philip nodded. So that's what it was about.
"Yeah... He was the one who kinda looked like me, and you used to joke that he was my real mom?" Philip smiled softly at the memory. He'd called him 'mom' all day, much to his embarrassment. He remembered how much it flustered the other freckled man, and how much joy his father had found in his embarrassment.
"... I miss him sometimes." There was a pause. "All the time." Philip nodded.
"I understand, Pa. He was your best friend, right? You two used to act like teen girls with each other, and it was hilarious! I miss him too. He was amazing."
He studied his father's face and saw an expression that he knew all too well. His father was arguing with himself.
"... Do you want to know a secret that I've never told anyone?" Hamilton's voice was small. Quiet. It was so unlike his usual personality that it sent chills down Philip's spine. He looked up at his father and nodded.
"Of course, Pa. You can tell me anything. I'm here for you!" He smiled at him uneasily, but he felt better when he saw his father relax.
"Do you promise not to think any less of me?" His voice was a bit stronger. A bit more like himself.
"Of course. You're my dad. I wouldn't think any less of you ever." Philip wondered what could possibly be so terrible.
"Maria..." Alexander's voice cracked slightly and he stopped talking. Philip froze at the name. He learned to hate that name, though he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't help but despise the woman that tore his life apart.
"Maria wasn't the first person I cheated on your mother with." His voice was back to being tiny. Ashamed. Philip slumped back against the seat, feeling numb.
"Pa..?" He spoke after a minute of tense silence. He was happy that his dad was talking to him, but he didn't like what he was hearing.
"What?" He asked softly.
"How many women have you slept with other than Mom since you've been married?" He had to know. If he didn't, he had a feeling it would eat him up inside. Devour him until he was as empty as his father.
"None." There was another minute of silence before realization slowly dawned on Philip as h went back over their conversation. He looked over at his father and wasn't surprised to see that he was crying. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but he closed it. After a few moments, he said a word so quiet it was nearly silent.
"You really loved Laurens, didn't you?"
His silence said more than any word ever could.
Philip said nothing as they pulled into the McDonalds parking lot and slowly parked in a free spot. More things made sense now. His mother's dislike for the freckled man, how close he seemed to his father, even the letters that sometimes arrived. His father liked to send letters to Laurens, even though it was outdated.
He looked at his father and saw a broken man. A stranger. Philip wanted to fix that. He was going to fix that.