CHAPTER 2
"Now are you sure that's everything, we didn't leave anything in the car did we?"
"I got all my stuff."
"Sure you did, squirt, and I'm sure you got a few things of mine too."
"I did not!"
"Well, if I can't find things I know I packed I'm breaking into your dorm room to look for them."
"Which dorm room is yours again, Jr?"
"Are you sure none of this is either of yours?"
"Yes Mom, I'm sure it's all Martha's stuff that's left in the car."
"Weld Hall, it's that one over there."
"Right, right, It's been a few years since your old man was a young lad roaming these stomping grounds..."
"It seems like she brought so much and you boys took so little."
"Well that's because our little Martha was smart enough to get herself an apartment, and not stay in the dorms this year."
"One year of dorm living and I said NEVER AGAIN. I don't know how John has done it for four years already."
"It's cuz John's a masochist!"
"James! Don't say such things about your brother, it's rude!"
"Eh, it's probably true. Spending the next nine months living in a concrete shoe box builds character tho, just like summer camp."
"The rooms aren't that tiny, John, you dingus!"
"Henry!"
"Haha, just you wait squirt. And we'll get you next year James, don't worry. Soon, soon all my siblings will be masochists, just like meeeee..."
"John, don't talk about things you don't know anything about."
"A masochist is just someone who enjoys pain mother, and boy must I love pain to be coming back to Harvard for the 5th year in a row now. Only two more after this one and I'll get to be a lawyer, oh goody!"
"Don't sass your mother, John."
"You're not our mother Martha!"
"Don't sass your sister, James."
"And a masochist is NOT something you should aspire to be."
"John, which one of the houses are you staying in again?"
"Adams house, around the corner father. I've told you 16 times on the way up here to just leave my stuff in the car and we could take it around after we got Henry settled in, but you're not listening to me, so I guess we'll just cart all my boxes up to Henry's room, then back down and around the block like savages."
"It builds character, John."
"Yeah, yeah. Sure it does."
"Are you sure you won't need anything more? This is everything you need?"
"Moooooooom!"
"The rest of my stuff is in storage."
"For Christ's sake Eleanor we're sending them away to college, not war."
"Are you sure? It still feels like the barracks."
"Bite your tongue boy, you should be so lucky as to never see a battlefield."
"Yeah, tell us again about our 9th great grand uncle who died in the Battle of the Combahee River during the American Revolution, Dad."
"I read once that he might have been gay."
The once rambunctious chattering of the family fell suddenly dead quiet as four sets of eyes turned to it's youngest member, a girl of no more then 14. With curly brown hair tied in two long braids down either side of her head, a splattering of freckles across her face, large hazel eyes so much like her siblings and a sweater with overalls ensemble she was the picture of sweet innocence. She stood twirling a large golden oak leaf in one hand, and steadily held the gaze of her father, whose face turned dark like a storm blowing in from the sea. John looked fearfully between his youngest sister and father, tense with with a primal fear for the safety of the girl and of the man who was glaring at her. But it was their mother who intervened.
"Well, you just can't believe everything you read about these days, my dear. Your 9th great grand uncle just had a very close friendship with another man, and that was very common in those times and there's nothing wrong with it, but they both got married and had babies, so obviously they weren't gay."
The youngest girl gave a little shrug. "If you say so, mama. But I read it from some letters that he exchanged with that friend of his."
"They just had a different way of speaking back then. That's all."
"Jr, why don't you take your things up to your dorm with James and your mother, while John, the girls and I take his things down the street to his place," their father said at length. "Sound good?"
"Yes father," the two younger boys said in unison and were quick to start gathering the boxes that needed to be carried. John started collecting his own boxes, beside him his sisters did the same. Their mother pulled her husband to the side to exchange quick hushed words, and John wasted no time ushering his littlest sister ahead, away from the storm that was their father.
"Jesus Christ Mary, can you please not say things like that around Dad?" John said once he was sure they were far enough out of earshot of his parents.
"No shit," their oldest sister Martha chimed in. "I thought Dad was gunna blow for a second there. Like have a complete and total thermal nuclear meltdown."
John chuckled nervously. "Error, has stopped working. Commencing countdown to nuke sequence launch, T-minus ten seconds."
"Mom swoops in with the Jesus code override, saves the day," Martha added.
"Why do you both do that all the time?" Mary asked. "Why do you pretend like it's okay for them to be like this? Like it's a joke? Cuz I don't think it's very funny."
"Dad's coming," Martha said, "we'll tell you later."
"Hey, wait up, you're leaving your old man behind there!"
"Man, keep up pops!" John called. "You don't want your old college buddies thinking you're getting old there, do you? I'm sure some of them are around here...Oh, look I think I see one now!"
"Oh, you do not," his father replied with a chuckle as he caught up. John couldn't help the way he flinched when the man raised his hand and rubbed the top of his son's head, but if his father noticed he said nothing about the involuntary movement. It didn't stop Martha from shooting him a concerned look however. "You wouldn't even know who you were looking for."
John forced himself to smile. "I just have to look for someone who looks as old as dirt, like you old man." He gritted his teeth and kept the look of causal joy even as his father's hand dropped down to pat him on the shoulder and give it a squeeze. He wanted to brush it off. He didn't say anything about it, too scared of the rage he knew might be seething under the surface of his father's own happy facade. Everything would be fine though, as long as no one broke the illusion.
"How much father to this house of yours anyway?"
"Just a bit farther father." If his family had anything else to add it was drowned out by the sound of someone screaming as they ran toward them. John stopped walking as soon as he heard the yell and set down the box he was carrying with a little, "oh no." A moment later, he was tackled form the side into the grass as his family looked on in a mix of mild amusement and bewilderment. The sound of rapid-fire french filled the air.
"John, John, John! Mon cher ami Américain! Tu m'as tellement manqué pendant l'été et je suis tellement content que tu sois enfin revenu à Cambridge! J'ai tellement d'histoires à vous raconter, nous devons prendre un café à la fois, je veux vous dire tout ce que j'ai fait pendant votre absence! Et tu dois me parler de Charleston, comment s'est passé ton été?!"
"Tu m'as manqué aussi Lafayette." John said, struggling to regain his footing. "S'il te plaît, sors de moi. Les gens nous regardent."
"Laissez-les regarder, je vous aime trop pour prendre soin de leur jugement."
"Lafayette, is that you?!" Martha said setting her own box down. Finally the man that had tackled John began to get to his feet, a wide excited grin on his face as he turned to the older sister and said, "oui." Martha pulled him up and into her own hug, giving time for John to dust himself off and get back up. "It has been years since I've seen you!" Martha squealed excitedly. "John didn't tell me you were back in the states!"
"You caught me, I was keeping him hidden in my storage unit this whole time. Dunno how he broke out, I thought I used the strong chains this time."
"Lafayette...isn't that the name of you're...European friend, John?" his father asked with a raised brow.
"Oui, c'est moi, Marie-Joseph Daveed Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette." Relinquishing Martha, he turned and gave the oldest Laurens a deep and graceful bow and straightened with a flawless smile. "But I know that name is long, so just Lafayette will do."
"Marie, right, I forgot your parents gave you the first name of a girl."
"Marie-Joseph" Lafayette coolly replied, his smile never leaving his face. "But you may simply call me Lafayette, Monsieur Laurens." Before anything more could be said by the older man, the french man turned with a surprised look to the youngest sister, now half hiding behind her older brother and peeking somewhat shyly up at him. "Mademoiselle Mary Laurens, is that really you or have my eyes lied to me? Look At How Much You Have Grown! John, you did not tell me how beautiful a young lady she has become!" The girl smiled, her face blushing at his compliments. As Lafayette held his hand out to her she shifted the weight of the box she was carrying to one side and offered her own, thinking he meant to shake it but giggled when he bowed to kiss her fingertips instead.
"He's charming, like a fairy tale prince," Mary said. "Just like I remember."
"You do?" Lafayette said straightening. "Non, non, mon cheri, how could you remember me you were so little and small." He mimed patting the air beside him, "I know I have long legs, but you did not even come up to my knees you were so very little."
"Il était une fois, un jeune prince a vécu dans un château brillant..." Mary recited but had to stop at the surprised look Lafayette gave her. "I still have the story book you gave me when I turned seven."
"Apprends-tu encore à parler français?"
"Oui, tous les jours. J'adorerais visiter la France un jour, comme mon frère John l'a fait."
John and Lafayette exchanged looks, for a moment both of them remembering the trip John had taken to live abroad for his senior year of high school. It had been pivotal for John, for without his friendship with the french man or a journey that put an ocean between him and the controlling grip of his father he might never have gathered the courage to open a part of himself that he had been brought up to keep buried deep inside. John remembered one night in particular, rocking on top of Lafayette's hips as he laid on a blanket, moaning with fulfillment into the moonlight as the sounds of waves rhythmically sang behind them. He recalled the loving patience Lafayette had had for his shaking hands exploring a lover's body for the first time, all the places he had kissed him over and over that night, all the places he had been kissed...
"Well, if you study very hard, mon cheri, and you are very good to ta mère et ton père, I believe I can sponsor you for your own trip abroad, if it is your wish," Lafayette said, smiling at the girl.
"Really?!"
"Oui, but in a year or two, and if ton père says it is okay." He looked expectantly at her father.
"We'll see what happens," the man replied noncommittally.
"Now, John, why are you making your sisters carry all your stuff for you?" Lafayette chastised. "Hand me that box, mon cheri, I cannot stand by and let you be a beast of burden to your brother. That is hardly becoming of a lady." He swiped the box Martha had picked back up from her hands and stacked it on top of the one John was carrying, ignoring his cries of protest, then turned to the youngest girl again, holding his hands out expectantly.
"It's okay, Lafayette, I don't mind carrying this for my brother," Mary said.
"Well, if that is your wish, I cannot argue," he began, then swept her whole body up into his arms as she playfully screamed and giggled. "But I shall then have to carry you altogether, will I not? Come along John, we ought to get you moved in now. I took the liberty of looking up which room you will be staying in and peeking at it already so you don't have to, just follow me." And he marched away, still carrying the youngest sibling in his arms.
"He's as...interesting...as I recall he was back when you were in high school," Henry Sr. said giving John a pointed look. "Have you talked to him about salvation, John?"
"He's been baptized, Dad."
"Is he? Well, maybe he needs to be again. He's wearing women's clothing after all."
"They're called yoga pants and he's a dancer, father. A bar dancer, before you ask, with enough skill and training to teach Mary far more then that teacher you have her studying under."
"Seriously, what's wrong with woman's clothes?" Martha chimed in. "I mean, I wear them all the time and you hardly bat an eye about it." John snickered despite himself.
"There's nothing wrong with a woman wearing women's clothing, or with Mary's ballet teacher. But I certainly don't like the way he looks at your sister. That's not a man who should be teaching children."
Martha rolled her eyes. "Oh really, and why is that? Because he wears a pair of comfortable pants and is flippant enough not to give a crap what a close minded bigot thinks of him?" John clutched tightly to the bottom box in his arms now, a slowly creeping panic washing over him. Silently, a step behind their father, he tried to signal to Martha to stop but she was too livid on Lafayette's behalf to listen.
"Of course not Martha, don't be ridiculous," their father calmly replied. For one single second John thought he was just going to let the matter drop. "But anyone who has a brain knows that gay men only come into being because they were molested as young boys by men claiming to be gay. It's a learned behavior darling, not a choice."
"What an absolutely horrible thing to say about a person," Martha shot back.
"It's just facts," Henry Sr. stated.
"Right, I forgot that facts and utter bullshit were becoming synonyms for one another these days."
"You can be as mad as you want about it darling, that doesn't change anything."
"Oh, right, so what does?" John said, suddenly finding a little bit of his own voice, a little bit of strength in the rage he felt hearing his father's nonchalant way of speaking about his longest friend, a former lover. "Sending your child away to a pray away the gay conversion bible camp where they beat, abuse, and neglect him as scare tactics to turn him straight all because you caught him kissing a boy his own age when he was 10?" Their father stopped walking and turned to face his oldest children, the seething dark anger of his face from earlier returning. Martha moved closer to her shaking brother and her presence brought John a resolve he could never find on his own against the man they now faced. Years of trauma left him with mental scars that made it hard for him to justify defend himself, but John would be damned for sure if he didn't try to shield the people around him from the same abuse.
"It worked for you, didn't it, John?"
"If you think beating a child until they can't move anymore and locking them in a closet for three days with no food or water is how you're supposed to scare them straight, then yeah, I guess it worked." John ignored the horrified look that crossed his sister's face then; there was a lot he never told the family. There was a lot he kept hidden from all of them.
"The camp counselor said you tripped and fell down some stairs, then pointedly refused to eat for three days. You were going through a dark time, John. If you're still upset by it, your mother and I of course will find you a therapist to see out here in Cambridge. In the meantime, I think you ought to take yourself to confession and see what can be done about that lying habit of yours."
"Fuck you," John spat and pointedly tried to push past his father in the hallway. His arm was grabbed and John was spun back first into a wall, pinned there by the iron grip of the man he most feared and hated in the world. His cry came mostly from the shock of the move, but Henry Laurens spared no mercy in squeezing as tight as he possibly could into his son's bicep.
"Goddamn it John," he hissed in the boy's face, "I've done everything I can to keep you on the straight and narrow and have about had it up to here with this bullshit. If you want to fuck off in the slums with that AIDS ridden faggot while sucking cock for a living then just say so, but but don't think that you'll get to drag the rest of your siblings out there with you too!"
"Dad, Stop!" Martha cried, trying to come between them as John's breathing immediately kicked into overdrive. The boxes he was carrying spilled from his hands and the resounding crash of them on the floor caused several people to look around for it's source. "Dad, people are staring, let him go. Now!"
Eventually Henry did, and stepped back. "Get your shit together, John. And if you can't do that by the end of the year, don't bother coming home for Christmas. I'd rather have a dog I could just put down then a worthless piece of trash like you for a son." And with that his father turned again and started marching back down the hall, barking his younger sister's name and John crumpled to the floor.
"John," Martha said, bending down to rub his back. "John are you—"
"Go make sure he doesn't hurt Mary," John said. He wiped at his face with shaking hands. "Martha, go!" And with a resolute nod his sister got up and charged down the hallway after the wake of their father, leaving John alone in the hallway with a few odd stares as he started to collect the boxes that had spilled on the ground. A second pair of hands started picking up the toiletries and office supplies that were loose and putting them back into his box next to him. "Oh," John said, "Thank y—" He looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes he'd ever seen, but that's not what stopped his words in his throat.
"No problem," said the face of Lin Garland. He smiled warmly and John felt his pants tighten in their usual anticipation of watching one of Lin's cam shows. "We got everything, are you good now?"
"Y-yeah," John said, pulling the box onto his lap to hide what was sure to be a noticeable problem if this literal freaking porn star kept talking to him. "Ummmm...I'm John. John Laurens." He offered his hand over the box.
"Alexander Hamilton."
"A-ah-Alexander?" John stuttered.
"Heh, you can just call me Alex if it's too difficult a name for you."
"It's, ummm...I just thought...I'm sorry, I thought you were somebody else I knew."
Alex chuckled some and a tingle ran down John's spine. "Oh really? Heh, I must just have one of those faces. Do you need any help?"
"Oh, no, I'm okay." John said, standing up, lifting said boxes and being very grateful they kept certain areas of himself covered. "I'm uh, just on my way to my dorm."
"You're here in Adams house, right?" Alex asked, grabbing a rolling suitcase with it's own boxes tied to the handle that John hadn't noticed before. "So am I, can I walk you to your dorm so I know where to find you? I might need somebody I can copy notes off of or borrow a cup of sugar from, you never know."
John tried his best to just laugh causally and not let on that he was freaking out on the inside. "Uhhh, so you're staying in Adams house too? What, uhhh, what year are you, I mean, what are you studying?"
"Are you always so eloquent with your words?" Alex grinned at him. "Well, let's see, I guess this is my fourth year here at Harvard, but my first year of law school."
"Really? Mine too. Of-of law I mean. I'm studying law too."
"Oh good, then I really can study notes off you, right?"
John was about to reply when his sisters came back down the hall, Martha leading a crying Mary by the hand. "I texted Mom already, she's on her way, but if Lafayette keeps egging Dad on he's likely to lose it entirely," Martha said as soon as she pulled up. "Can you get Laf out, or do you want Mary duty?"
John set his boxes down, his earlier problem having thankfully receded some with the walking. "I'll deal with Dad, watch my things."
"Umm, mine too," Alex said, leaning his against the wall and following John. "What's going on?"
"Oh, you know, southern baptist father from a well-to-do family and a European best friend who doesn't think colors have genders. Or that genders have genders."
"Ahh, I see."
"Look, I don't make any excuses for my father but please just let me handle him, okay? And you don't have to come."
"I want to help. Believe it or not, I know how to deal with a bigot."
John rounded on him. "I don't need violence here, I need diplomacy."
"Okay, you got it."
John wanted to argue with him to stay back, but he knew if he did Alex would figure out he was Ramos, a client of his and the last thing John needed right now was to be outed as someone who was paying a guy to fuck himself on camera while he watched so he could get off. And that was simply overlooking the fact that Alex was not the man behind that camera that John had thought he was this whole time. But he didn't have time to bring up any of that, and so all he could say was, "just follow my lead."
They passed the door they were looking for at first, but since John was peeking into any of the doors left open he eventually spotted who he was looking for and they found his father having a very hushed conversation with an absolutely unimpressed looking Lafayette.
"And I for one, do not intend to—"
Lafayette perked up as his friend entered, Alex trailing behind him. "John! What perfect timing! Ton père was just telling me that you will accompany your sister and I to Paris after she graduates high school, doesn't that sound marvelous?!"
"I will?" John asked, looking between his fuming father and Lafayette's coy smile. As Alex peeked around from behind him the sudden realization that not only was a gay sex worker standing in the room with his close-minded father, but the man John was using to get over his best friend was now also standing in the same room as his best fucking friend. An out of body sensation started creeping up John's spine, like suddenly nothing was real anymore and maybe if he stood still for long enough he might just get to float away from everything that was happening.
"Now wait an minute, that's not what I—"
"I know what you have said, Monsieur Laurens. You have said that you do not want your daughter traveling to France by herself or staying in the company of an older man she barely knows. It is a fair concern. But surely if Mademoiselle Mary's oldest brother were to accompany her, it would put your mind at ease?"
"She's not going anywhere with you, she's just a child—"
"Oui, she is a child right now. Mais les petites filles grandissent mon ami, et apprennent les manières des hommes méchants." Henry Sr. narrowed his eyes at Lafayette, who only continued to give him a knowing smile.
"Oh, heeey!" Alex spoke up after a tense moment of silence. "John, this is your room, right? So guess what? We're roommates!"
Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw, John thought to himself as he forced himself to grin.
END CHAPTER