Four: Disowned

Coming home that night felt so odd to him, to see that place of order and stability after the spectacle of the circus and the chaos of the protesters. It seemed unreal. Philip opened the door to find his mother pacing the entry way.

"Philip!" she cried, rushing toward him. "Where have you been?! We expected you home hours ago!" Her eyes searched his appearance, a thin frown pulling at her lips. "Were you out drinking?"

"No, Mother." He took a breath, steeling himself for the reaction. "I was at the circus. Mister Barnum hired me tonight."

"The..." His mother choked, clasping a hand to her breast. "Philip, please. I can't handle any more shock tonight. You can't actually mean that."

"But I do. I'll be working at the circus from now on."

His mother stared at him, her face growing pale. She swallowed and cried out for his father: "Roland! Roland, come quickly!" She took a step back from her son like the circus was something she could catch if she stood too close. Philip stared resolutely forward. In a few moments his father arrived, swiftly taking in the state of his wife and son.

"Well, Philip, you certainly gave your mother a fright. Just what-"

"He says he was hired by that Barnum man." His mother gravitated closer to her husband. "He says he was there tonight." His father's face turned to stone.

"It's true," Philip spoke up. His parents looked almost wary of him, as if he was a stranger in their home. Philip gripped the brim of his hat tighter. "I watched some of the show and later met with all of the performers. I'll be going back tomorrow to help them with their show."

"You absolutely will not!" his father snapped. "Just what did you think you were doing, going to that place and associating with those... people? What if someone saw you? And your play! You're really going to drag your good name through the mud by working for some degrading side-show?"

Philip's knuckles were starting to turn white. His ears could still hear the laughter and joy of the crowd, his body still humming with the energy of the show. With that taste of freedom still fresh on his tongue, Philip couldn't make himself regret his choice even knowing what was to come from it.

"It's my name to do with as I wish."

"But it won't be my name," his father huffed. "You are disgrace to it. If you insist on doing this, then as far as I'm concerned, I no longer have a son." With that he turned and stalked away. Philip's mother hovered uncertainly for a moment before hurrying off after her husband.

Philip walked numbly to his room, carelessly throwing his hat and coat on the floor and collapsing still fully-clothed on his bed. He knew there would be a blowout, but wasn't expecting that last verbal slap to the face. It wouldn't take long before everyone in their social circle knew what happened. He could already imagine the indignation of his father's friends and the scandalized horror of his mother's. They would make it clear they wanted nothing to do with him and his activities to save themselves the shame of association and the rest would follow, quietly and unanimously turning their backs on him.

He ran a hand down his face. Over on his desk was a pile of correspondences waiting to be answered, mostly invitations to parties. Those would likely be the last ones he received. People he'd known his entire life would want nothing to do with him now. When they did bring him up in conversation, it would be to lament over how degrading he was and extend sympathy to his parents. It was likely the only reason he wasn't kicked out of the house was his parents were hoping for a last-minute change of heart, that he would come to his senses and beg them for forgiveness. Who knew how they would react once they realized Philip was never going back.

Was he crazy? He just gave up his entire life. Going from a place of certainty, stability and wealth to something unknown, unpredictable and financially risky. Then again, he never felt more free or more excited to work. The thought of tomorrow energized him for the first time in his memory.

And the one thing he was most concerned about just hours before, the loss of his inheritance, no longer seemed to matter.