Thomas
I am not quite certain as to what possessed me to invite Alexander Hamilton into my home, but as of this very moment it is beginning to trouble me. Was it an act of sympathy? Of pity? For the first time in several years I am uncertain as to what I am feeling. From the moment I stepped through the doors of that gas station and laid eyes on a distracted and seemingly anxious Hamilton everything else froze. Why did it all begin to feel so insignificant when I laid eyes on Hamilton looking so pathetic and miserable in a gas station that he had no reason to be in?
Martha had once said that I have a kind heart and when I choose to listen to its urges that I become the kindest of all the men on this Earth. She truly did have a way to make even the most uncertain of men feel that they were on a mission entrusted to them from the very heights of heaven. She had been a God sent in my life and I had cherished every moment with her, but it hadn't been enough to keep her here on Earth. It seems that the Lord had finally realized that one of his kindest angels had fallen from the sky and he took it upon himself to reach down and reclaim her.
I close my bedroom door behind me and take a deep breath before walking further into the room. It has been almost three years since Martha has passed away. I am uncertain as to what caused my late fiance to reappear in my thoughts, but now that she is here it is difficult for me to banish her from my mind. My computer is flashing and the familiar tones of a Skype call ring through the air. I sigh softly before walking over to my desk and sitting down in the chair and accepting the call.
"About time you answered your call Jefferson." Gilbert Marquis de Lafayette scolds me from his seat in his room on the other side of an ocean. "This is about the third time that I have tried to call you this evening. Have you been trying to avoid me?"
"Don't be ridiculous." I reply in french. "I was preoccupied this evening that is all."
"Preoccupied?" He repeats slowly. "What exactly was preoccupying the time of the great Thomas Jefferson?" There is a grin on his face as he looks at me and I already know where his train of thought is taking him.
"It is nothing romantic I assure you." I roll my eyes. "It isn't even friendly."
"Ah," he says with a laugh. "This must surely have to do with monsieur Hamilton." I say nothing as I tap my fingers along the surface of my desk. "Oh," He smirks. "It does."
"The biggest pain in my ass is currently staying down the hall in his own room for the night."
"Wait," Lafayette leans back in his chair as he stares at me with puzzled eyes. "Are you telling me that Alexander Hamilton is in your house with you right now?" His hand drifts as he speaks as if he is plucking the syllables and their very meanings out of the air. "How did that happen?"
"I invited him."
"Yes, obviously you smart ass, but why did you do it?" He turns his head slightly as he continues to look at me with suspicious eyes. "What exactly happened between the two of you to bring this strange cohabitance to fruition?"
"He was stranded at a gas station with a dead cellphone, and apparently there was a major gas leak at his apartment complex and the entire building was emptied. It was raining and he couldn't sleep in the gas station so I offered him a place to stay for the night."
"Did you say it was raining?"
"Really, that is the only part of that whole story that you are choosing to focus on?" I lean back in my chair with my arms crossed. Gilbert gives me a half hearted glare as he bites back whatever retort I am certain had come to mind. When he and I had worked tighter in France he had always had something witty or scathing to say.
"It is a rather important detail."
"How so?"
"If it was storming it would explain why Alexander would agree to go with you."
"Does it really matter why he agreed to go with me?" I ask with a huff of annoyance.
"It matters to me, because the two of you have never gotten along and now you are both living under the same roof." His eyebrows raise as he regards me with amusement. "I would like to understand what is going through both of your minds at this moment in time."
"Could it just be that you're being nosey."
"I'm French, I like to know what to make fun of next." I roll my eyes at his response and he merely laughs in return.
"I'm not understanding how the rain is supposed to hold such great importance in this one chance happening."
"It does because Alexander Hamilton is terrified of storms." He says slowly. "He's been terrified of them ever since he was about nineteen."
"Are you saying that he agreed to come stay with me for the night to run away from a childhood fear?"
"I'm not saying anything, merely stating his fear may have been a contributing factor in his decision process at the moment." He leans forward on his arms and stares into the camera. "Think about it, you can't go home, you can't call anyone, and your worst fear is transpiring outside when your longtime enemy walks in and offers you a place to stay. What would you choose?"
"The obvious choice." I mutter.
"You did something surprising Thomas, I must admit that I am impressed."
"Just shut up." I grumble as he laughs. "None of that changes anything. He is here for the night and it doesn't matter what you or Martha say about it."
"You're thinking about Martha again?" He asks softly. My entire body goes slack as the realization of what I had just said crashes through my skull. Why did I have to say anything about her? "Did bringing Alexander back with you bring this on?"
"I am not in the mood to discuss this with you tonight Gilbert."
"But it is something that you need to talk about at some point." He counters.
"Not tonight and not with you."
"Fair enough, but if you ever need someone I am only a phone call away."
"Right, and you're only seven hours ahead of the rest of New York City."
He rolls his eyes in response before looking straight into the camera and in way straight into my eyes. "Regardless of time difference the offer still stands. You do understand that?"
"Yes, I understand." I mumble. "Good night Gilbert." Lafayette sighs at the sound of his first name and I can't help but grin.
"Good night Thomas." I close the lid of my laptop and sit at my desk for a moment pondering everything that had just been discussed. There were multiple tidbits of information that are now floating around in my brain, such as the fact that Hamilton is apparently terrified of thunderstorms. That is something that I will have to dig into a little bit more in the future, but as of right now I need to sleep and to silence the ghosts that whisper words of love into my ears making my eyes burn with the memories.
My fingers are numb as I undress and slide underneath the lilac scented sheets. There had once been a time that these sheets had been scented with the light and fragrant smell of open meadows and flowers, but now I can't bare to inhale such a fragrance. I roll over onto my side, facing the window where lightning flashes behind the curtains. For a brief moment, my mind wanders to Hamilton and how he must be faring in such a night. I close my eyes stubbornly and do everything within my power to clear my mind of all things past and present that plague my mind.
There is nothing that I need more than sleep, and sleep is what I will do. I lie in bed, alone and still, as I wait for the clutches of sleep to grab onto me and drag me down into the world of dreams.