helpless (Lams)

Think About Love, Think About Me

. . .

ALEXANDER HAMILTON

MONDAY, JULY 4

I'm pretty sure John bleeds red white and blue, not gonna lie. He didn't come to sleep until one in the morning because he was busy hanging up some sort of bunting that I think he made himself outside, and doing a deep clean of the house. Fortunately for me, though, I woke up this morning with him lying next to me, still fast asleep.

I smiled to myself as I sat up on my elbows and patted his arm. "Sleep well, John. You deserve it." He furrowed his brows in his sleep and rolled over. I chuckled, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and planting my bare feet on the floor. His snores filled the air, like the low rumble of Martha's vacuum cleaner from the living room on dreary Sunday mornings–like a six-foot-three white noise machine.

I made my way to the kitchen to see Peggy hovering over a pan at the gas stove. "Morning, Peg," I hummed, sitting down at the counter.

She turned around and smiled. "Good morning," she chirped. "I'm making hash browns, do you want some?"

I pursed my lips. "Er, no. I'm educated enough to know that if Margarita Schuyler offers me food, I'll probably die the same day."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "That was one time! And you didn't die, obviously–it was just a minor case of food poisoning!" she shouted, stomping her foot.

"I missed my high school graduation!"

"Whatever. I'm sure someone else will want to eat my food," Peggy huffed.

John peered into the kitchen, rubbing his tired eyes. "What's going on? Is one of y'all tryin' to burn down my kitchen again?" he said with a yawn.

Peggy stepped toward him, waving a spatula at my face. "Alex won't eat my food," she whined.

"Yeah, 'cause last time I did she poisoned me!"

John squinted his eyes at us and pointed to Peggy. "Okay," he sighed. "New rule: Peggy isn't allowed in the kitchen anymore."

"Now that's not fair!" Peggy complained.

"It's very fair," John told her. He took the spatula from her and turned off the stove before ushering her out. "Go on."

Peggy groaned and dragged her fingers down her face. "You're so mean," she cried, kicking her legs. "I hate both of you!" She whipped her head around and stuck up her middle finger as John pushed her into the hall.

John sighed and sat down next to me, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe you live with her," he cringed. "And poor Maria–she needs an award for putting up with her ass."

I chuckled to myself and grabbed an orange from the basket. "She's actually pretty cool most of the time, but she can definitely be a little much," I said.

He tilted his head to the side, looking out at the sliding door. "Hey," he piped.

I looked up from peeling my orange. "Yeah?"

John squinted his eyes. "I think...I think she's digging up my garden." He calmly wiped his hands on his pants and stood up. "Excuse me for a minute." He walked over to the door, sliding it open.

"Where are you going?" I called after him, but he didn't answer. Instead, he sauntered over to the hose and twisted the dial, gripping the bright yellow hose in his hands. He aimed it at Peggy's figure, who was crouching on her bare knees in his flower beds.

"Hey, Alex!" Herc walked into the kitchen. "What're you doing?" he asked.

Just as I turned to face him, Peggy came marching inside, dripping wet with John trailing behind her.