There were very few people in the market. Hence, we thought there would be no problem with going together to buy the apples I had told my mother I was going to get.
That day, the people's glances felt quite piercing, quite judgmental. I could tell Philip was trying his hardest to ignore them, and so was I. He kept asking me questions about my day, about my family, about the last dinner I had been to. You see, due to the recent events in his family, he hadn't attended any social gatherings in a while, so I was his source on them.
I was trying my best to distract him. I rambled as we walked down the streets, being accompanied by the day's last rays of sunlight. They peeked through the rooftops and found their way to the ground in uneven patches, so we would walk across and out of them. They would hit Philip's curls and make his head seem as if it was surrounded by dainty, golden-colored air. Under that light, he seemed to have more freckles in his face than the ones he usually had, even though I knew that was impossible. They had looked the same ever since he was a kid.
At one point, I had to stop talking upon noticing Philip's somber expression. He looked over my shoulder, towards somewhere behind me. I could hear whispers coming from that direction as well.
"It is him, isn't it?"
The voices were low, but sharp.
I looked at Philip, and tried to ask him if he was all right with my eyes. He didn't seem to notice.
They kept muttering comment after comment, and Philip was getting a little tenser with each of them.
"Well, they lost their chance to occupy the White House."
"Thankfully. Just imagine the women who would have been parading through it."
I wanted to tell him not to listen to them, to ignore them. I wanted to tell him we could leave at that second. But before I could do any of those things, he was already striding towards them.
"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"
He was furious, his voice dry and cutting. The men stopped their conversation and stared at him. Some of them looked somewhat amused.
"Are you intending to defend your father, Mr. Hamilton?"
"I'm intending for you to stop talking about him," Philip shot back.
"That's impossible, I am afraid, after what your father did. Respect ought to be earned."
"Keep my family's name out of your mouth," he said, raising his voice.
The men had gone from being entertained to being challenged, which could be understood by the growing tension in the environment and the hardening of their expressions.
"Well, it seem the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, now."
"As impetuous as his father. Not hard to expect."
"Philip," I finally reacted, and gave a couple of steps towards where he was standing, until I positioned myself in front of him. "Let's go. This isn't worth it."
He lowered his sight until he found mine. He seemed to be so disperse, and confused about what to do.
"Come on. Let's go," I whispered.
He gave a small nod and we proceeded to walk down the street until we reached a corner. There, I turned onto the small side street on our right, one that was narrow and had no people walking across it. I figured he could use a minute of tranquility to compose himself. I turned my head to make sure he was following me. He was one step behind mine.
Once we were away from all the chaos, as we were standing next to each other, I asked:
"Are you all right?"
"Can you believe those people?"
"No, I can't. Are you all right?"
"Who do they think they are?"
"They don't deserve a reaction from you, Philip."
"Did you hear the things they said?"
"I did," I stood in front of him and looked him in the eye. He needed to understand what I was about to say. "And none of them were true."
For the first few seconds, he said nothing. There was silence. I didn't know how to get him to calm down. He surely was not achieving it, his breath being heavy and uneven.
"What if I am, though? What if I am like him?"
I shook my head.
"That was a mistake he made. There is no reason, Philip, why you would ever make the same mistakes as him."
"But all my life, I've…"
"Philip," I took a deep breath. "The way I see it, you certainly are your father's son. But that only means you have every ounce of his intelligence and cleverness."
I paused and looked at him to make sure he was following my idea.
"And also, you are your mother's son. Your mother is without a doubt the kindest person I've ever met. That has to be worth for something."
With that, he seemed to calm down.