Hang in there (Jamilton)

24

Jefferson's POV

Hamilton and I were in my car, heading to his apartment. He seemed more tired than ever. His iconic dark circles that hung under his eyes seemed deeper; his sunken face seemed to carry more years than it should. His head was resting on the window. His eyes half-closed, the man seemed a mess. He obviously did not get enough sleep last night, but I wondered if he had gotten a good night's sleep in months. We passed the park, where I dropped him off nights before. 

My phone's GPS turned on with a loud "you've arrived." Hamilton jolted awake with a fire unique to him. 

"We're here," I said and got out of the car. This car better not get vandalized, or I might lose it.

I followed Hamilton into the cramped lobby and up the stair to the second floor. He grabbed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

"Home sweet home," he muttered. The place was depressing. Papers were stacked on the kitchen table; clutter was pushed against the wall. I saw Hamilton go into the bedroom, but I began wandering to the living room. A picture hung from the wall. It showed Hamilton when he was younger, or at least looked younger, standing next to a beautiful woman. It looked as if they were in central park, the large trees sprawling out behind them. 

"That's Eliza," I heard Hamilton say from behind me. I whipped around, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snoop." 

"It's ok," He took the picture off the wall "it's from five years ago before she got sick." 

"I don't mean to be rude, but did they know what happened?"

"The doctors? No, couldn't figure it out." He hung the picture back on the wall. "Come help me break down this crib." 

I followed him back to his bedroom, where there were a packed suitcase and a crib. It was a pitiful thing, barely holding itself together. 

"Trash that thing."

"Easy for you to say," if you don't want to help, I can do this myself."

"No, I'm serious. I'll get you a new one. We can get one down in Virginia; if a Virginian crib raised me, and I turned out this well, it could raise your kid."

"I'm not your charity case. Get that through your head. I didn't come to American to be a pity project for some rich kid. I have a crib right here, and that's the crib I plan on using for Philip. Now, if you plan on helping me, break it down for me. If not, I'll do it myself."

"Wait, Hamilton. I want to help you. Give me a chance, but I think Philip needs a better place to sleep."

"You want to help? Break this crib down. You've done plenty for me, a crib is a crib, and I can support my own child without your help," he snapped at me.

"Can you be any less irritating? You're not my charity case. Excuse me for trying to do something nice for you, but don't you get it? You look at everyone in this world like they are out to get you. Yes, this world sucks, but you can accept help when it comes."

"You don't get to tell me that the world sucks!"

I grabbed Hamilton and pulled him into an embrace. I felt him try and claw his way out, but I held on until his arms fell limp and eventually around my waist.

"I just want what's best for him," he whispered.

"Then let's give him what's best." I loosened my grip and looked him in his eyes. "Let's go down to Virginia. We can get him the crib he deserves."