Paternal and Proud [LAMS Short Story]

VI - Obstinate and Unsuspecting

"Frances?" Philip slowly approached the curly-haired irritable girl at her locker. "Mind if I... talk to you?"

"Yeah, kinda," Frances replied frankly, not even sparing Philip a glance. Philip didn't bat an eye. He was used to being shut down by her.

"Okay, well, too bad," Philip leaned against the locker next to Frances', speaking with an amicable tone. He smiled, trying to lock eyes with Frances. "Since you're not going to listen to me for long, I just want to ask you one thing, and, if you answer truthfully, I'll leave you alone."

"You'll leave me alone?" Frances repeated, finally looking annoyedly over at Philip. "Well, that's an offer too good to pass up."

"Great!" Philip pushed off the locker to follow Frances as she shut her locker and turned away, not even looking at him as she waited for him to follow her.

"Well, sorry if it's kind of personal, but since you agreed, I'm just going to ask you anyway..." Philip hoped he wasn't being too brash, but he kept his tone light. He wasn't looking to get a rise out of her. "I just wanted to know if your dad has been coming home later than he usually does?"

Frances froze, and Philip tripped trying to avoid bumping into her.

"What did you just say?" Frances asked slowly, voice low and warning.

Philip hesitated. Even though he knew she heard him, he repeated his question anyway. "Does your dad come home later than usual nowadays?"

Frances, still frozen, scoffed nervously. "Yeah, and so what if he does?" She didn't meet Philip's eye.

"It's okay, I didn't mean anything by it," Philip tried to reassure her. "I mean, you know why, though, right?"

Frances whirled around to face Philip. The look on her face was livid and Philip took an involuntary step back.

"What are you trying to say?" Frances spat. "Of course I know what he's doing. My dad and I are really close."

Philip shook his head quickly. "I didn't say you weren't. I was just hoping that since now we both know about them, we could be friends?"

Frances just glared at him, but didn't say anything. She glanced for a split second over to the side and saw Theodosia, talking and giggling with her friends cheerfully, carefree, watching Philip with a dreamy expression on her face. She looked back at Philip.

"I answered your question, okay?" Frances growled, pushing past Philip. "Now uphold your end and leave me alone."

--

Frances was thinking about what Philip said all day. In reality, she had no idea what he was talking about, and she had even less of an idea of what her father was doing late at night.

She slammed the door after her walk home.

Listening for a couple of seconds and hearing nothing, she stormed to her room and flopped down on the bed, spread-eagling and burying her face into her pillow.

She just wanted to know what was going on. About everything. Her dad, her friends, but most of all, herself.

--

She surprised herself, staying studious and finishing all her homework before her father came home. Checking the clock, she knew that if her father was out again, he'd be home in a couple of minutes.

She heard a car door slam in her driveway and pulled the curtain to her room's window aside to look out of it.

It wasn't a car she'd seen before. It was a sleek navy blue sedan that her father was getting out of. She watched, angry shock covering her face, as her dad slid out of the passenger side, walking around the car to the hood to speak momentarily with the driver, whose face Frances hadn't yet seen.

She watched as her dad playfully pushed the driver against the hood of the car. The driver pulled her dad close by his fucking belt loops and kissed him.

That bastard just kissed my dad! Frances wanted to look away, but she was so stunned, she felt so betrayed, that she was frozen in place.

So she kept watching. Her dad pulled away briefly, grinning, then pecked the man on the lips again before waving a goodbye and jogging to the front door of their house. As the other man got into the driver's side of the car, Frances caught a glimpse of his face.

She'd seen him before, not too long ago. It was Alex Hamilton.

Philip Hamilton's father.

Frances yanked the curtain over the window so hard, in such an angry haze, that she distantly heard the fabric tear.

What the fuck, dad.