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Chapter 15: English, Please?

"Hey, big brother, you wanted to talk to me?" I chirp, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"So about all these people staying here," He starts, but pauses. "Are they all staying here? Or will some stay at my house?"

"I was hoping some could stay at your house..." I mumble, looking down at the tiled floor that is in need of sweeping. I'll do it when I have the time, which I never seem to have anymore.

"Okay, but who? We have to figure out who's going where. I'm assuming they don't get along to well, right?"

"Yeah," I sit down at the table, the old, overused wooden chair creaks beneath my weight. 

"First things first, who can't be around each other? I would--oh, hi, Phillip." Darius says as Phillip walks in, his gait confident and smooth. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, leaning against the table, looking down at me.

"Sleeping arrangements," I say, tapping the table. "there's no way all of y'all can stay here without me loosing my mind."

"Can I help?" He pulls the chair beside me out and sits, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, it will help having someone on the inside helping." Darius says, taking the seat opposite of Phillip and I. Phillip sits so close that I can feel his body heat radiating off him, and I can smell the faint aroma of peppermint.

"Just name it," Phillip declares, leaning back in his chair.

"Who doesn't get along? Besides Alexander and Jefferson, that ones obvious." Darius chuckles, but is met with nothing but a blank stare from Phillip.

"Well, Father and Burr don't get along to well, always arguing. But Burr and Jefferson do get along--almost as well as Jefferson and Madison did. What? I pay attention. And... Mother and Maria, I don't think. Well, it'd be more Father and Maria. Father does't really play nice with many people." Phillip says, seeming to be in deep thought.

"Okay," Darius says. "Who can't be separated?"

"Mother and Father defiantly, and Laurens and Lafayette--oh, but you can't forget Mulligan. Burr and Jefferson, probably. Washington can be with anyone, he gets along with almost everyone." Phillip concludes.

"Thanks, Kid. You've been a big help." Darius says, standing. "Alexander, Eliza, Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan will stay here. Jefferson, Burr, and Maria will come with me. Simple, boom, done."

"Wait. Phillip, you never said anything about yourself." i say, turning towards Phillip.

"Oh, I didn't realize that I was included in this." Phillip says, shocked.

"Well, duh." I say, raising my eyebrows jokingly. 

"I would like to stay here, I like it here. And Mother and Father will be here, according to Darius." Phillip says shyly, like he's embarrassed.

"Okay, so if we changed around some people," I pause, thinking, mulling the names and grievances and friendships around in my mind. "Phillip, Alex, Eliza, Laurens, and Lafayette will stay here and Jefferson, Burr, George, Maria, and Mulligan will go with you. That's right, right?"

"That sounds about right, and it's evenly split. I'll go get everyone who's coming with me and get going, and you'll be left with whoever's left." 

"Hey, it won't be that bad." I smirk.

"Whatever," Darius walks into the living room to gather whoever is going with him.

* * * *

"Okay, this is how it'll go: some of y'all will stay in the living room and some will stay in my room. How will we be divided?" I say, pacing in front of the five people, studying their features examining their body language. One stands out the most, despite their attempts to be hidden.

Eliza.

She clutches Alexander's hand, and keeps her eyes trained on the carpeted floor. She looks over at Phillip often, as if making sure he's still there, making sure he's real--he's alive. Now, she just stares at the floor, clinging to Alexander's hand as if it's her grip on life.

"Je vais rester ici, Mademoiselle Annette. Laurens, vous aussi? ALexander, peut-être?" Lafayette whispers to Laurens, who nods.

"English, please?" I say breathlessly. 

"Pardon," he mumbles, and I give him a look. "I said that I'll stay in here, and Laurens said he would as well. 

"Okay, so--" I stop, and look at Eliza again. She looks so scared and confused, and I feel useless because I can't help her. "I don't that Alexander and Eliza will separate, so they can stay in my room, we can make a makeshift bed on the floor--is that alright?"

Alexander looks down a his wife blissfully,l but sorrow lines his eyes. After a while, he finally says: "Yes, that is quite alright. Thank you, how can we repay you?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, but I'll figure something out." I say, laughing. "I'm just kidding, you don't have to repay me. It's not like you asked to come here."

"You're right, but I still feel in your debt." Phillip shrugs.

"Well, you're not. One of you come and help me." I say, and Laurens comes behind me.

"What are you doing?" He asks, walking steadily beside me.

"Getting pillows and blankets, we need pillows and blankets." I stop at the hallway closet and open the cream coloured door to the small space in which is always filled with pillows, blankets, and boxes.

"Oh, okay." He says, watching me rummage through the mess.

"Hold this," I place to blankets with pillows in his arms. "and this." I continue this process until we have enough for everyone to have a blanket and pillow and to make a makeshift bed--two, to be exact.

"We're done." I say, and take the top pillow off the stack. "Now you can't say I didn't help you." 

He just rolls his eyes. We go back into the living room.

* * * * 

The room is dark, yet the moonlight shines through the curtians, preventing me from sleep. The air is cold, and I huddle deeper into my blankets, safe and warm. 

I examine the ceiling, the same ceiling I've studied million time before, the paint is sill chipped and the boards still dip down and crack in the same places. I lift my hand into the air, a cold wave of air consumes my arm as I trace the design of chips, dips, and cracks mid-air. 

My arm drops and the bed shifts, and yet again I sigh, accepting another passing hour of sleeplessness. I tilt me head to the side, my cheek pressing to my pillow. My gaze falls on Phillip's sleeping figure.

He lies on his back, his eyes closed peacefully. His chest rises and falls with each breath. His hair falls in just the right places, framing his jaw and cheeks. Even in the dim moonlight, I can see his freckles, the way they are dotted so randomly but precisely, abstract but exact.

I jerk my head away, forcing myself to look away from his sleeping figure. My thoughts run a million miles a minute, yet I close my eyes in an attempt to sleep.

One name tugs at my mind, screaming for me to acknowledge it.

Phillip.

Hello, people. I don't even know what happened with this chapter, but I hope y'all liked it! Remember: READ, VOTE, and COMMENT! Bye, Pansycakes!

~Love Emily
Be brave