The next day, I wrapped some pastries around a tablecloth and hid them in my coat's pocket. I figured Philip would be hungry, considering what he'd told me the day before about spending the entire day out of his house.
"I hope you like these," I said as I sat next to him at the foot of the tree and pulled the food out.
He looked at them, unsure he'd understood.
"Are these for me?"
"Yes, because you've probably been here all day. I thought you might be hungry?"
He smiled. "Thank you, Theodosia. This is so kind of you."
The conversation seemed to flow with much more ease that afternoon. As if there weren't any matters either of us were afraid to bring to light.
As Philip ate, we talked about how the last few hours had gone for him. I asked him if he'd seen his father. He answered he hadn't. I asked him if he was more comfortable than yesterday with the idea of seeing him eventually. He answered he was, slightly.
I also asked him how his mother was, which if I'm honest, I was completely afraid to hear. He answered she was devastated, which broke me as I imagined it would. I just couldn't picture sweet Mrs. Hamilton like that.
He continued to tell me he felt bad for not being able to stay by her side. He told me he wished he could be stronger for her. That way, maybe he could stay home and help take care of his siblings. Help distract the younger ones, the ones who weren't able to understand what was happening. Maybe that way, he could take a load off her shoulders, even if it was a minuscule one.
He told me the reason why he couldn't was because of his reluctance to seeing his mother like that.
When it was time for me to leave, he decided to go home as well, to check on his mother.
We agreed to see each other again the next day.
And the next.
And the next.