Paternal and Proud [LAMS Short Story]

XIII - Awkward and Anticipating

His father smiled down at him, and Frances felt her heart melt a little watching the exchange. Philip and his fathers' chemistry was so effortless, the love so requited, the care for each other so unconditional.

"Yes, really, you won't be any trouble at all, and Philip and I'll be done shortly," Frances added, hoping and praying with all of her heart that they could convince him.

Mr. Hamilton regarded Frances, a tentative look on his face. "If you're sure, Frances, then I can wait here for you two to finish. But don't feel obliged to offer to let me stay, really."

Frances nodded, smiling as sincerely as she could. "I promise, Mr. Hamilton, you're not a problem to me. None at all."

--

After leading Mr. Hamilton to the living room, offering him a seat, a wide variety of books, and a sincere plea to make himself at home, Frances led Philip upstairs to her bedroom, where they both opened their laptops and fell into a silent rhythm of clicking keyboards.

Philip was not much less cold than he had been in class last she'd seen him, but she did manage to have a very brief conversation with him. Despite the brevity, Frances was thankful nonetheless that he could even stand to look at her, let alone utter a few words in her direction.

Throughout the process of finishing up the lab report, Frances couldn't help but notice that they worked well together. Things got done quickly and efficiently. Given, the lack of his willingness to talk to her helped loads, but they seemed to have a way of editing each others' work pre-established. Without needing to say a word to each other, they seamlessly completed the project, each having pulled their own weight equally, both completely pleased with the end result.

Despite not being able to say the same thing for Philip, Frances quite enjoyed working on the project. She hadn't spent time with a person besides herself in so long, she forgot what having a partner was like. Someone who she could understand, or communicate, or be in harmony with. And though Philip wouldn't say a lot to her, there was definitely unspoken communication through the way they interacted, and union in the way they thought.

And though Frances wanted nothing more than to have a conversation with Philip, to verbally communicate, to apologize, to explain, she knew that was the last thing he wanted. She could understand that, because she noticed that the way he acted was similar to hers, when it came to wanting to talk or preferring silence.

That being said, she wondered if she would have noticed these things about him before if she had actually bothered to look. If she had seen Philip - really seen him instead of merely looking at the image of him he projected, maybe she would have seen their similarities.

Frances could hear the garage door open from her room, signifying the return of her dad. She quickly whipped out her phone, sending a quick, urgent message to him, and then turned off her phone before she saw his response. Philip glanced up once, but didn't say anything; instead, he finished the sentence he was typing and then sat back to reread the entire report.

Frances handed the rubric to Philip and he scanned over it, glancing at their document and occasionally deleting or adding a word or phrase, before placing it down on her bed and nodding once, shutting the lid to his laptop.

"I'll print it out and bring it in Monday," Frances murmured, setting her computer on her desk and plugging its charger into the port.

Philip nodded, replying simply with, "Thanks, Frances."

Frances nodded in return, then took a breath and a chance and asked, "How are you and Theo doing?"

Philip's head snapped up to face her, but before he could say anything cutting, Frances caught a small smile and dust of pink over his cheeks and grinned.

"Still going strong, I take it?" she tried not to sound teasing, but it didn't work.

Philip sighed, but the exasperation in it was anything but wholehearted, Frances could tell. He gave her an honestly adorable, loving smile, though she knew it wasn't directed at her, and murmured, "Yeah, she's just so... amazing."

Frances' joking grin softened into a wistful smile. One look at him and she knew he was head over heels. "I know." Frances cast her eyes up, looking sincerely into his eyes. The adoration he clearly felt with just the thought of Theodosia actually made Frances' heart feel a size or two bigger, and though she felt a twinge of sadness for herself, her excitement for Philip's relationship definitely overpowered that. Frances spoke genuinely, smiling at him without a trace of mockery. "That's why you're perfect for her."

Philip blinked, everything lovesick melting off his face, leaving a mask of slight surprise but even more respect. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if trying to find the right words. Eventually, he simply smiled back, in a genuine, appreciative way, and said, "Thank you, Frances. Really."

"Don't thank me yet," Frances muttered, shuffling the papers on her desk and messily sliding them into her science binder.

"What? What do you mean?" Philip turned to face her.

"Hopefully you'll see," was all Frances responded with, making her answer as vague as possible. She was afraid for a second that Philip would press her for a straight answer, but he just looked at her a second longer, then dismissed it.

"You want something to eat?" Frances asked, gesturing toward her bedroom door.

Philip hesitated out of politeness, so Frances added, "I promise, it's really no problem. And we've been working for a while, too, aren't you hungry?"

After convincing him to reluctantly agree, Frances led Philip downstairs to the kitchen, making sure to steer clear of the living room, and offered him a snack.

The two sat together, eating oranges quietly, looking at sunny day from Frances' kitchen window. The clouds, curved with texture, were almost nonexistent, but a couple small patches of white still floated in the sky interrupting the smooth spread of blue. As the two watched, they faded away with the breeze, leaving the sky looking like a puzzle with no pieces missing.