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Philip didn’t get why his dad was always in his office whenever it rained.
He was eleven, he didn’t get a lot of things yet.
But still, that wouldn’t sound all that weird, given the fact that he spent a lot of time there, but he usually came out for dinner and they’d discuss the young man’s studies and just have some family time. Every night, except any time the sky decided to rumble and thunder filled the air and made the ground tremble, the sky seemed to cry and the smell of wet grass became apparent in New York.
Of course, today happened to be one of those days. Philip was walking to his father’s library to look for something when he passed by Alexander’s office and curiosity ate at his guts. Still wondering what his father did on rainy days, he decided to knock. No answer, no problem, he tries again… and again, nothing. Wildly disappointing.
Ok, so maybe dad didn’t want to be disturbed, that’s fine. Philip goes on with his walk to get a book.
Or he could open the door, the office has no lock, mama made sure of it, it was a safety thing, no idea what happened in there, but she said it was long before he was born, that he shouldn't worry about it. He still thinks about that from time to time.
Anyways, the door, he shouldn't. He knows that, but dad’s really quiet and now he’s kind of worried about him. So, ignoring the fact that he really shouldn’t, he does.
The door opens at such a slow rate Philip thinks he’ll be here forever, but he really wants to catch the violet eyed man in whatever he’s got going on, he knows that if he makes noise, the man will stop what he’s doing and tend to him.
Finally, the door is fully open, out of view now, and the young man can see into the room freely now. Well, he could have if there was a god damned candle lit, which, why isn’t it? Whatever, so what if the room is lit exclusively by the gentle light of the cloud covered sun? He has great vision, thank you very much.
His eyes wander around the cloudy room, looking for his father. The room is what people would call an organized mess. Dad always said that things did, in fact, have a place in that room, but it just wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing way of putting them. And… there he is! The desk chair has been moved to the nearest window, and he’s sitting on it, looking at the sky, but he doesn’t look like he’s actually seeing anything. He’s just kind of cloudy eyed. When Philip takes a step forward and a floor plank creeks, dad seems to snap out of it and turn to see what caused the sound. Mama always said to be careful around dad with sudden noise, again, Philip didn’t know why.
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“Hi pops” Comes right after the sound that popped me out of a flashback. A particularly hard battle, they thought Lafayette died. Thank god he didn’t.
Thinking of Laf, has he received my letter? Does he know I'm doing all I can to have him here and safe? I should start getting some rooms ready for them, I hope the whole thing goes by quickly.
Calm down, you fool, it’s just Philip.
“Hi Pip, what are you doing here, dear? I’m sure the rest of the house is way more interesting for a boy your age” Is the first thing that comes out of my mouth. I’m still kind of jumpy. Stupid rain, stupid thunder, stupid flashbacks and stupid me.
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“... I was just going to the library for a book and thought i’d stop by and say hi to you” I say, getting closer to pa, he doesn’t look quite right, but, for across the room i can’t tell what’s wrong.
His voice seems watery, like he’s been crying, but that can’t be it, i’ve never seen pops cry, like, ever. I walk slowly towards him, grabbing a chair on the way there, and sit down next to him.
“Thank you for thinking of me, hun.” he sais as his eyes travel back to the glass in front of him. And now, from up close, I can confirm what I feared, his cheeks and nose are stained that characteristic crying crimson and wet with sadness, and his eyes, red and distant, shine with unshed tears. His brows are frowned and he looks so incredibly devastated, so tired, I wish I could do something to help…
“Pa, are you alright? Did something happen? You look sad” my eyes lock with his as he turns to look at me.
“ Oh… do not worry your kind little head with such things, I’m just not too fond of storms” He mumbles, with a tear gliding down his face, a hand shoots up to wipe it away, and then he’s back to fully calm. It’s kind of scary to see dad like this, I truly hope he’s ok.
“But, storms are beautiful, don’t you think?” I question, because, they truly are. The rain made the day truly gorgeous.
“Don’t get me wrong, they are, they just remind me of a few events I don't quite like remembering. It’s nothing, dear” Later in life I’d come to find out what those events were; the hurricane, war, with all its cannons and deaths. And, when, in the future, I ask dad about John Laurens, after finding some letters between them, I discover that, the day the letter announcing his death arrived, also happened to be a rainy day.
As for right now? A childish need for him hits me when I see the next tear fall. And on a fitt of courage, I get up, pull him up from his seat and hug him as strong as I can. He’s quick to hug back. We stay like that for some time before sitting back down. The rest of the afternoon we watch the rain fall together. And when I see new tears inevitably fall, I grab Pa’s hand, just so he knows he’s not alone.
One day, I hope to find out what happened to let that door have no lock, but for now, I’m content with knowing dad’s ok. From today, I’ll keep coming into his office on rainy days, because no one should be alone through all that shit.