My Angel

Chapter One- Managing

   Philip couldn't believe how uncomfortable he felt sitting in the front seat of his father's car. He had earbuds in, concealed under his silky brown locks of hair. Some meaningless pop song was playing, though Philip wasn't paying attention to it at all. He was using them as a way to block out the sounds of his father's occasional sniffle or, God forbid, any actual conversation the man might try to begin.

   Philip absolutely loved his father. That wasn't debatable. However, with the recent events, it was hard to ignore how... Damaged the man seemed. He rarely smiled. He got lost in his thoughts more often than usual. He was much too quiet and still. Even at fourteen, Philip knew something terrible was happening. Before everything, Philip remembered that Alexander was much like fireworks. Loud, exciting, and happy. Now, however, he was more like an extinguished fire. Cold. Dark. Still.

   Looking back on it, Philip could remember the exact moment that everything began to go downhill. It had happened around a year ago. His father had received a letter telling him the fate of his friend, John Laurens. It told about how he'd been shot by a particularly violent man during a Black Lives Matter protest, mortally wounding him. The man had been arrested, of course, but Laurens didn't make it. He died in the hospital.

   Philip had always liked Laurens, and was saddened by his death. He was always incredibly kind, and always brought small gifts for Philip and his siblings. For some reason, though, his mother seemed to dislike him. Philip suspected that his mother's feelings of him is what made him visit so rarely, despite the fact that it seemed to make everyone happy.

   After Laurens' death, Alexander smiled a little less, investing himself fully into his work. The family saw less and less of him. Then they went on vacation to visit Philip's grandfather. That's when the affair happened. Thinking back on it, Philip remembered how his father seemed a bit sadder when they returned from his grandfather's, though Philip had naturally shrugged it off. He even managed to shrug it off when his father seemed to have less money with him. He shrugged it off when his father was gone more.

   Of course, it all made sense once Philip read the Reynolds Pamphlet. Following that was the divorce, leaving Philip the only child in his father's custody. Once everything was finalized Alexander had taken everything that he had to his name and left, wanting to rent a small apartment in New York City.

   They were on their way there now, and every mile that passed Philip became more and more worried for his future. Would he ever see his siblings again? What about his mother? Would she be alright? Most likely. In all reality, Philip worried about his Father the most. Even before everything bad started to happen, he'd never been the most stable man.

   At a young age, Philip learned to always check the weather reports in case of thunderstorms. His father tended to freak out in the more severe ones, often either closing himself off from everyone or pressing against his nearest family member or friend. He also tended to stress when one of his children or his (now ex)wife came down with any sickness. As he got older, Philip began to notice the more subtle things, like how his father seemed to obsess over having enough money despite the fact that, from what Philip could remember, they'd never struggled financially in the past. Or even how he despised jokes about being gay, or jokes about suicide.

   Philip knew why, of course, though he wouldn't tell his father how he knew. When Philip had turned ten, his mother had sat him down and told him about his father's shitty life. She explained about how he'd lost a lot of people in his life. 

   Maybe that was why he was taking the divorce so harshly. Philip pulled his ear buds out and looked over at his father. He was staring straight ahead, his fingers clenched tightly on the steering wheel. He had a sad, longing expression in his dark, chocolaty eyes. He'd been crying again, as was obvious due to the dried tear stains on his cheeks and his puffy red eyes.