My Guardian Angel//Lams//Post Laurens Death

Chapter Seven

Alexander Hamilton
I'm in my study, three days after my breakdown post the cabinet meeting. I'm at my desk, writing a letter to Angelica.

My Dearest, Angelica,
'Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty place from day to day.' I trust you'll understand a reference to another Scottish tragedy without my having-a name the play.
They think me McBeth (Fun fact: McBeth is actually a 'cursed' word when it comes to musicals), and ambition is my folly. I'm a polymath, a pain in the ass, a massive pain. Madison is Banquo.
Jefferson is McDuff.
And Birnam Wood is Congress on its way to Dunsinane.

"And there you are an ocean away," I sing softly. "Do you have to live an ocean away? Thoughts of you subside, then I get another letter. I cannot put the notion away."

A knock comes from my study door. Eliza pokes her head in.

"Take a break," she says melodically.

I realize I'm late for dinner. "I'm on my way."

"There's a little surprise before supper and it cannot wait!" Eliza continues.

"I'll be there in just a moment, save my plate."

Eliza pauses. "Alexander."

"Okay, okay," I get up and follow Eliza down the stairs. "What's so important you had to drag me down here?"

"Your son is nine years old today," my wife reminds me. "He has something he'd like to say. He's been practicing all day."

Philip beams from his place at the table, next to his sister. A toddler, my newest son James Hamilton, is sitting in his high chair quietly. Angelica squeezes her brother's hand.

"Philip," Eliza continues, "take it away."

Philip takes a deep breath and gets up. Eliza begins to beatbox. "Daddy, Daddy, look: my name is Philip. I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I just turned nine. You can write rhymes, but you can't write mine!"

"What?" I'm impressed.

Philip smiles. "I practice French and play piano with my mama!"

"Uh-huh!" I'm tapping my foot along to the beat now.

"I have a sister but I want a little brother!" Philip says. James and Alexander Jr look up.

"Okay!"

"My daddy's tryna start America's bank! Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq!"

"Bravo!" I clap happily.

Angelica hugs Philip sharply, Alexander Jr in her trail. James reaches out to the eldest boy, as if requesting a hug for himself.

"Take a break," Eliza whispers.

"Hey, our kid is pretty great," I tell her.

"Run away with us for the summer, let's go upstate."

I look at her fully. "Eliza, I've got so much on my plate."

"We can all go stay with my father," she insists. "There's a lake I know..."

"I know."

"And a nearby park..."

"I'd love to go." I say truthfully.

Eliza looks quite desperate. "You and I can go when the night gets dark."

"I will try to get away." I promise. I turn back to my children. "What're we having for dinner tonight?"

"Pot roast!" Philip blurts. I blink. Philip bursts into a fit of giggles. "Sorry, Dad."

"Phil said someone he knew recommended it," Alexander Jr says.

"Who?" I ask.

Philip crosses his arms. "I'm not allowed to say."

I hesitate. "Okay."

"Come, Alexander," Eliza pulls me into the kitchen with her. A warm breeze washes over me, gently. "It was Philip's imaginary friend who told him about pot roast."

"Okay..." I wait for her to continue.

Eliza sighs. "He should go to boarding school."

————
Still Alexander's P.O.V
I don't think about the 'imaginary friend' for almost all of dinner. Instead, I'm thinking about how to break the news to Philip and his siblings that their oldest brother is going away for a while.

"...and then Richard shot it into the goal," Philip is saying. "He's a cheater, though. He knows how to, like, calculate wind speed."

"Doesn't sounds like cheating to me," says Angelica. "Sounds like resourcefulness, something you lack."

"But who knows how to do something like that?" Philip sounds a little frustrated. "I don't have anyone to teach me how to do it..." he trails off. "I mean...never mind."

I raise an eyebrow. I decide not to question his abrupt change of mind.

"So," Eliza says, "your father and I have made a decision."

"What is it?" Angelica asks.

Eliza looks to me, followed by my children. Even little James has a interested expression. I swallow.

"We're sending you to boarding school," I say to Philip. "You'll go until you're old enough to enter college."

Philip's smile fades. "What? Why? I don't want to leave."

"There will be other boys there," Eliza tells him.

"I don't care!" Philip turns and gazed into nothing. "Tell them I can't go! I don't want to!"

Brief silence.

"Ugh! I hate you!" Philip looks away from the air and back to me. "I hate you, too! I don't want to go to boarding school! I want to stay here with Angie, Alex, and James! Don't make me go!"

"Philip—" I begin.

"I'm not going! I'm not, I'm not!" he screams.

Silence follows, longer than the first. His siblings have nervous looks; one of the house rules is no shouting. I put my fork down.

"Go to your room, Philip," I say. "We can talk more later."

"But I—"

"That wasn't a request." I interrupt firmly. "Go."

Philip has tears in his eyes as he runs upstairs. Eliza puts a hand over mine, a soft, loving glint in her eyes.

"You did the right thing." she tells me.

"The right thing?" Angelica repeats. "But— it can't be right if Philip is so against it. Why does he have to leave?"

Eliza and I exchange a glance.

"You'll understand when you're older, darling," Eliza promises. "Eat your dinner, okay? We'll all talk about it tomorrow. After a good night's sleep."

Angelica doesn't seem convinced, but she starts eating again. Alexander Jr is utterly silent, picking uselessly at his roast. The rest of dinner is completely quiet, only a few questions from Eliza.

After my wife and children go to bed, I'm in my study, alone. But, I swear, I saw John Laurens watching me, a disapproving look in his eyes.

————
A/N:
I'm back! Posting every day, except for weekdays. Thursday is prime time for me, so, if I miss uploading on Thursday, feel free to shout at me.

Trying to hold back the tears,

Alex