Archive of Our Own

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Jemmy, tiny and unassuming, made his way up the path toward the expansive courtyard of the University. The previous weekend had been rough on him, as most weekends were on the quiet little scholar, regardless of whether he went out or stayed in. If he went out, he immediately wished he’d stayed back in the dorm: alone, he could concentrate on his studies more fruitfully without the distractions of his hedonistic room mate. If he stayed in, he felt lonely, isolated, and quite a bit like the resident party pooper. It never failed. He’d piss someone off, regardless of what decision he made. It didn’t bode well for his future.He ended up flipping a coin. The stress of making a decision was too much. The resulting coin toss had him enjoying himself, drunkenly, at the bar in the city but also had him spending nearly fifty dollars in cab fare trying to get home while the battery on his cell phone drained. The current pain in his neck-- he mentally reminded himself to stop by the nurse’s on the way back to his dorm, just to be safe--could be traced to a particular friend who decided to drop by for an unplanned visit. Jemmy hated this most of all. He got the typo-ridden message from Alexander demanding a meeting to talk about the paper they were going to have published, compared it to his overbooked day planner, and sighed. He came upon Alexander at a picnic table by himself, and smiled, exhausted. “How long have you been waiting?” Jemmy asked politely. He placed his heavy book bag, stuffed almost to bursting, on the table-- a passive aggressive reminder. Alexander tapped a ball point pen against the splintering wood and peeling paint. He had spent the past twenty minutes nervously picking at the shards and shredding them between his fingers, nails chewed to the base, humming an inarticulate tune. Jemmy studied him wearily: impulsive, dramatic Alexander.“You were awfully friendly with Aaron at Holy Ground last weekend. What were you two discussing?” Alexander got right to the point, in one breath. So it was going to be like this: Alexander's never-ending quest to stir up a fight. He'd been like this ever since they'd met two years ago at a conference in New York. Jemmy liked it at first, thought Alexander's rapid mind and quick-wit complimented his more methodical style nicely. Their shared interest in law and Alexander's 4.0 GPA was just a bonus. But after a while Alexander's fiercely vibrant mind showed its other side, one that clung to paranoia and petty jealousy, and once again Jemmy was forced to conclude that everything came at a price.Jemmy looked at him quizzically, “... Is that what was so important that you needed to speak to me immediately? We have fifteen minutes before Dr. Franklin gets back and locks us out of the archives for the night. Come on.”“I know he’s your roommate, and it’s probably not my place to say anything, but I have been thinking. There are some wild rumors about him—” “—He’s my friend, Alexander. As are you. So what if we hung out at a stupid bar? Everyone goes.” Jemmy often felt like Alexander was constantly in the process of convincing himself to do something desperate. Wondered if it were something in his blood. Alexander never talked about his childhood. For all Jemmy knew he'd fallen out of the sky at age twenty, fully formed, the product of some alien world. “I know you’re my friend. That’s why I’m warning you.” Alexander brushed bits of wood off his hands and straightened himself upright. “I’m warning you because from what I hear, he's not a good person to associate with and if you and I are going to be working together I think I should get a say.”This was how most of their conversations went: Alexander’s unwarranted advice, Jemmy’s waning patience. It wasn’t as if the other boy could help it. Jemmy tried to remember the first time he’d met the foreign student, beginning law school at Columbia a year after Jemmy began at Princeton. It was a retreat, a sort of networking seminar for law students to prepare them for their future careers. Alexander was all nerves, talking too much and latching on to the first sympathetic face he saw in the dull hotel lobby, which happened to be Jemmy. He learned quickly that Alexander’s first instinct was to jump, to explain, to warn-- Jemmy sighed audibly, deciding to go for the bait.“Alright, Alexander. What is it you’ve got to tell me?” Alexander shifted his weight and put both elbows on the table, leaning forward urgently. “Aaron is bad. I mean really bad,” Alexander’s eyes darted around at the other students milling through the courtyard, “I have reason to believe-- and this is the rumor-- that he's been paying other students to write his papers for him. If it wasn’t for his family he would have been kicked out months ago. But Christ knows nepotism runs deep--” “—This has nothing to do with me, Alex. And I've never heard that rumor,” Jemmy reasoned, leaning in closer over the table. He studied the dilated pupils and the sleepless lines around Alexander’s eyes, and then leaned back again, exhaling, “Did you take something?”“What?” Alexander shot him a defensive look. “Of course not.”Jemmy rubbed his eyes, unzipping his bag and pulling out some notes, realizing that he wasn’t going to make it back to the library in time. He pursed his lips, avoiding Alexander’s eye contact. “You think I took something?” Alexander pressed him, “You don’t think I just came here out of the goodness of my heart? You remember what they said at the seminar-- ‘you are an amalgamation of the five people you’re closest to’. Do you want Aaron to be one fifth of your personality?”“I don’t have time for this, Alexander,” Jemmy grumbled, “Just go home and hydrate and flush out whatever stimulant cocktail you downed last night and let me live my life. You tell me all of this as if it affects me. It doesn’t.” “I mean I don’t want him having a…” Alexander struggled, “...negative effect on our careers. You know what I mean.” Jemmy straightened himself, preparing for the tirade, “I assure you I do not.” This wasn't exactly the truth. Jemmy knew what Alexander was angling at, but wanted to hear him admit it. “He’s going to drag you under with him. I can sense it.”“Alexander, for God’s sake,” Jemmy cut him off, feeling the color rise in his face.It was hard to be angry with him when he got like this: when Alexander railed up and down that he was doing the right thing there was no talking to him. There were times when he heeded Alexander’s warnings, and there were times when Jemmy swore that Alexander saw demons in everyone but himself. Jemmy stared at a spot in front of his nose, halting before speaking the next thought that presented itself: truthfully, he was looking into transferring schools, but Alexander needn't be privy to every fleeting notion Jemmy ever had. He just had to make it through the semester in one piece. “It would be for your own benefit,” Alexander continued, without missing a beat. He raised a finger and twirled it around, pointing to nothing; to everything. “Networking, too. If you associate yourself with bad eggs, no one will want to hire you. Doesn’t matter what your grades are. This sort of thing will haunt you forever... trust me.”  Jemmy’s gaze flickered: the trump card. Trust me. Alexander had said it more times than Jemmy could remember. It made sense, Jemmy reasoned. The only thing Jemmy knew about Alexander's life was that it was too terrible for him to talk about; Jemmy surmised that was part of his strength and why he acted the way he did and why he insisted, eyes widened, that he knew what was best for everyone else. But it grated on him. “If you have a problem, talk to Aaron yourself,” Jemmy reached for his books again, flipping to a random chapter.Alexander laid a hand on the page quickly, looking into his friend’s eyes, “Haven’t you ever felt…you know. Uncomfortable around him?” Alexander narrowed his gaze, and his voice dropped, “Don't you feel like he's...I don't know. Constantly lying? I feel like he's hiding something.” “Oh, for God’s sake!” Jemmy repeated, louder. He snatched his books. “You don’t care about my well-being at all. You just want to gossip!” Alexander exhaled, annoyed, and resumed picking the splinters off the table.Jemmy clenched his jaw, “Aaron is a decent guy— And I refuse to let your own personal hang ups affect my relationships. Now, since we’re finally together, are we going to talk about the essays we’re supposed to be writing for the Federalist Journal or do you have any more hair-brained bullshit you want to complain about?”Alexander rolled his eyes and gradually came back to earth, sliding a laptop from a slim black bag and turning it on.  **** Matt shifted himself into a more comfortable position on the low futon, his head resting casually on the crook of his elbow.“Have you actually eaten anything today? It’s nearly two,” Matt asked, looking over at Aaron’s disinterested face as he shifted his position on his slim, twin-sized bed, “Want to grab something?”  Aaron shook his head, “Too busy. I woke up at seven for a run and then came back, showered, and immediately started studying. I don’t know why I bother, though,” he said grumpily, pushing his notebook to the side, “These tests are designed for idiots and I’ve got the worst fucking hangover of my life.” Matt laughed and rubbed his face. “Can’t speak to the hangover, but the exams...they’re not that easy. Even Jemmy studies. And he’s--what-- number two or three in the entire class?” “Jemmy gets off on studying.” Aaron sat up, leaned against the headboard of his bed. His roommate had gone to visit friends out of state for the long weekend, and Aaron had to admit, he did miss the little guy. Sort of. “It gives him something to focus his energies on besides pestering me all the time.” “He’s just trying to be nice. I think he worries about you. What time did you get in last night, again? I mean...Jesus.” Matt replied, flipping the page of his book idly. The ideas weren’t coming-- the words weren’t synthesizing-- and so he shut it, slipping his phone out of his pocket instead and scrolling.Aaron tilted his head back, low, “...None of your business.” “...Four. Four is what time you got in. I mean, whatever-- you’re an adult, do what you want-- but eventually Timothy is going to expect something to show for his troubles, some kind of return on investment, here.” Matt decided to go for the jugular and watched Aaron's face go from relaxed to tense.“He can take his investment and shove it up his ass.” Aaron answered before he could stop himself. “I’m so bored. I don’t know.” Aaron admitted after a beat, softening. “I’m doing fine. My grades are passable. I’m going to pass the bar and get a job at the firm representing fundamentalist nutjobs who want to live in 1952 and delirious old women that want to leave their millions to Jesus. Thank you, grandfather.” He raised his hands in mock-praise, then let them fall loudly against the comforter. “Better than taking a fucking gap year backpacking in Europe and catching crabs in a hostel,” Matt responded idly. Aaron went on, lifting a hand again, “Our lives are completely planned out right now-- you know that, right? Down to the minutest fucking detail. Now even my roommate wants to monitor everything I do. I can’t live life this.”Matt laughed nervously. “What the hell are you talking about?” Aaron situated himself and crossed his legs. “I mean us. You and me,” he motioned a finger towards his own chest, and then to his cousin, “What do we have to look forward to?” “We’re graduating next year. That will be exciting,” Matt reasoned, picking a piece of lint from his shirt. Aaron continued, “I mean after that. Life. Everything is all planned out. We go to school, we pass the bar exam, we make a living, and then we die.” “Come on. Don’t get existential on me,” Matt replied, smile creeping back onto his face. “What do you want me to say? ‘It gets better’? I’m not a motivational poster.”“I knew you wouldn’t get it.”Matt stood up, raising his hands in mock-prayer, “Put your faith in Him, our father in Heaven. Oh Lord Jesus, come down and expel this demon of doubt from brother Aaron--”Aaron balled up a piece of paper and threw it at Matt, who ducked.“Can you shut the fuck up?”“I’m just saying. Maybe grandad was right. Maybe we all should spend every free hour we have in penitent reverie,” Matt sat back down, mirthful. He picked up his phone again, off-handed, “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know. You could still go back to seminary school. Dr. Bellamy would snap-- he thinks you’d make a better pastor than your dad. As long as you stay away from his son,” Matt added under his breath.“Do you remember when I ran away from home, when I was nine or ten? I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, too,” Aaron changed the subject. "I had a dream about it last week."“I remember Uncle Tim beating you senseless. I remember the neighbor threatening to call CPS. Why the hell are you bringing that up?” Matt lifted his eyes from his phone screen.“I think...that was the first time I realized that there was a life outside of our family, outside of the...psychotic religious beliefs. That I could get away, if I wanted to. And if I didn’t at least attempt to get away… I don’t know. It would eat at me,” Aaron reasoned again.“What brought this on?” Matt replied. “I keep thinking about that Laurens kid-- the story in the student newspaper from a few years ago. The one that left for the military because he couldn’t face his father’s disappointment and then disappeared or whatever. I could have been that kid, Matt. That could have been any one of us.” Matt adjusted himself, "Not that again. I told you to stop looking into it--""--Did you know his family were donors to grandad's church? Millions.""So what?""So he was..." Aaron felt himself heat up, embarrassed, "...I feel like I have a lot in common with him. His family probably treated him the same way they treated me. Or you, I guess. Controlling. And then he snapped, and now he's gone."“So you think pissing away your last year in law school is going to somehow make your life worth living?” Matt exhaled, still confused. "I mean there's no escape, staying here or running away. Either way you're trapped. And I mean if I just live my life the other people want me to then it’s a life not worth living.” “You’re scaring me, man,” Matt said darkly. “If this is about going out tonight, then fine. Let’s go out. Let’s get your mind off this topic. We can go into the city. We can find girls. I don’t care.” Aaron rubbed his eyes and sighed again, “That’s…that’s not it. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just forget it.”Matt watched him warily, covering his doubts with a grin and a short laugh, “You’re getting too heavy on me. Come on, put your shoes on.”  **** Bobby had no idea how deeply his roommate’s venom truly ran as he sat at his desk, twirling a pencil in his fingers. He flipped lazily through a notebook filled with scribblings and half-notes, trying to decipher and remember what they meant when he’d written them late the night before, half-delirious with sleep. In front of him his laptop sat open: a blank document. He was trying hard not to drown under the weight of school work and his reckless roommate. Today, Alexander was on the holy warpath. “I explained it to him, I looked him in the eye and I told him,” Alexander threw a pillow on the floor and looked underneath it for the pen he’d misplaced, “I told him he would be up shit creek without a paddle if he kept putting his trust in the likes of Burr.” Bobby nodded mutely, never taking his gaze off the screen before him.“I met him in a public place, on neutral ground, and laid out my worries, and he ignored me. I thought he was my friend. How are we supposed to work together if he ignores me?” Alexander flung his pillow back onto his bed and then fell to all fours, looking underneath it. “I am so disappointed in him, I feel like I want to hit something. How can he even defend that spoiled, smug, trust-fund—” “—He doesn’t have to choose between the two of you, you know,” Bobby said, “You’re the one who came to him with your stupid gossip.” Alexander’s head shot up like a rocket, hair askew, “It’s not stupid gossip, Bobby. This is serious. I can’t work with him if he's going to be bringing in people like Aaron. If he associates with dogs he’s going to get some fleas.” Bobby turned in his chair, temper flaring, “Fleas? Dogs? You’re just still jealous that he made it into Princeton and you didn’t. It's been almost six years, for Christ's sake. Stop trying to start drama.” “I’m not trying to start drama!” Bobby cocked his head to the side, knowingly, “You know that’s not true. You mean to tell me that when we go to the bar tonight and you see Aaron you’re not going to start throwing a fit? When you confront him you're not going to make a scene? Can you promise me that?” Alexander sputtered and his friend cut him off. “—No. No, Alex. I will do it. I will leave you at the bar and you’ll have to take a taxi home. Be mature about this or I will leave you.” “Why is it always me that has to make promises?” Alexander responded, exasperated, standing up. He paused, running a hand through his hair to flatten it, “He’s the one who cheats. He's the one who sends me snarky texts out of nowhere. He's the one picking fights. He hates me, for reasons unknown.” “Alexander—” Bobby stopped, watching his roommate absentmindedly straighten his bookshelf. He tried a different approach, softer, “...You know, not everyone is out to get you. He’s probably just…awkward. Maybe he was trying to be your friend. Don’t judge someone on their worst moments.”Alexander put a hand to his chin, letting Bobby’s words sink in. He turned, lowered his voice and stepped over to his friend, firing the last round in his arsenal of invective, “You don’t know the whole story. If you did, you’d see it my way.”“Well then tell me, for God’s sake,” Bobby replied, exasperated. He lifted his hands aimlessly, searching, “You keep hinting that there’s more to it and you’re not saying anything. It makes you seem insane.”Alexander stood up straight, and let his shoulders drop. He began to pace, realizing, slowly, that he’d have to divulge the uncomfortable truth of his past one way or another. He clasped his hands together, clearing his throat and wishing he had a drink of water. He turned back to Bobby, who wore a look of polite eagerness.“I mean...you know most of it,” Alexander began weakly. He gesticulated, “My...parents.”Bobby waited, trying to piece together the hints. When Alexander didn’t explain, he spoke, “Your parents? I know about the drug thing, if that’s what you mean. I swear to God I haven’t told anyone. The counselors aren’t going to say anything.”Alexander interjected, “There’s more to it than that.”“Oh God. It’s not the authorities, is it?” Bobby dropped his voice to a whisper, “The statute of limitations has to have expired. And besides, it was your parents, not you. Their kid wouldn’t be implicated. Even if the feds are still expecting money they’re not going to chase down the orphan of a couple of low-level drug mules--”“--No, no-- Bobby, listen,” Alexander swallowed and plopped down onto his bed, looking at his roommate, “When my parents were busted...my dad disappeared and my mom was obviously in no state to be caring for a kid… it was Aaron’s family specifically that helped raise the money to send me to Princeton.”Bobby blinked for several seconds, mouth dropping open slightly as if he wasn’t hearing things correctly, “What? Really? You told me you just got a scholarship.”“It was. Kind of,” Alexander turned pink. “It was his...church. They pooled their money because one of the pastors went on a missionary trip to the Caribbean for the sole purpose of helping the kids in my town. He was impressed enough to get me to sign on.” The room grew quiet for a minute, while Bobby mentally sifted through the story, waiting. Alexander went on, “Ever since I started the law program here he’s been… I don’t know. Trailing me isn’t the right word. But that’s what it feels like. Now I think he’s trying to move in on me and Jemmy's work-- I mean, come on. Aaron’s obviously jealous that me and Jemmy are going to be properly published and he’s going to get saddled being in-house counsel for his grandfather’s insane church. I won’t let him get away with it.”“That’s the spirit, I guess...” Bobby replied. Alexander was not ready to drop the subject. He explained further, still pacing, “And he’s bizarre. He says strange things and has these weird beliefs,” he raised his hands and motioned inarticulately, a look of confusion spreading across his pointed features, “He has these weird beliefs and he scares people and he—” “—I’m going to be honest, Alexander. I think he only scares you. I sort of like him, I don’t know,” Bobby picked up his pencil again, shrugging, “I get where you’re coming from, but you’ve got to let this control thing go. Your career prospects will be fine.”Alexander stopped and looked at his friend, betrayed, “You what?” “I said, I like him. I seriously doubt he’s trying to sabotage you,” Bobby said more seriously, taking a sip of water from a half-empty bottle on his desk, “You have to just accept people for who they are and what they like. Besides, coming from a family like that...he can’t help it.”“Or maybe, just maybe,” Alexander paced the room, lifting books here and there and flinging them aside, teeth gritted in annoyance, “I am the only sane person on the planet and you’re all a bunch of lunatics—” “—Ahh, yes. That’s it. Everyone is crazy and you’re the only one who knows the truth.” Bobby cut in. “Yes, I am.” Bobby stared silently at him again; recalled, briefly, stumbling in on his roommate praying a few weeks ago and wondered if his Alexander was headed for the right profession. If his friend’s paranoia didn’t smell distinctly like projection. “You’re mocking me, Bobby,” Alexander stopped short, and chewed his lip. He raised a pointed finger. “But you’re right about going out. We should. That way you’ll see what I mean. When you all start counting on him to pull through and he flakes at the last moment. You’ll see what I mean.” “That’s not indicative of just Aaron. That’s humanity.” “I’m not like that, Bobby,” Alexander shot back, voice raised an octave in defense. He felt himself losing control. “I’m not like that at all. That’s selfish. You know you can count on me, and so does Jemmy. He’s putting his friendship in someone shady and I'm not going down with the ship.” “I’m not going to argue with you about this again,” The other student stood up and stretched, brushing eraser shavings from his shirt. “Be ready by seven tonight if you still want to come with me." Alexander huffed, annoyed, and sat down on the edge of his bed. **** The bar, Holy Ground, was predictably crowded. Aaron deftly made his way between two sets of arguing couples. He held two sparkling red drinks, one for himself and one for Matt—his cousin insisted on wearing the ugliest of yellow shirts and was starting to get looks—and Aaron swiveled his hips this way and that in order to avoid hitting tables. He reached the end of the bar, where Matt had already started absentmindedly tearing napkins. “What did you bring me?” Matt threw several scraps to the ground. “I don’t know. Some berry-and-gin thing. Whatever is on special tonight,” Aaron plopped down on the stool next to him, after brushing off some shards of paper. Matt looked at the drink warily. “Well what is it called?” “I said I don’t know,” Aaron reiterated, “And why are you acting so nervous, anyway? I'm the one who's in for a scolding. Is Hamilton here yet?” “This place is way too crowded. I can't see anyone.” Matt tested his own drink, made a face, "This tastes like toilet cleaner."Aaron chuckled again, gaze drifting from his yellow-shirted cousin to the patrons of the bar. Dancing and chatting happily, loudly, leaning into each other, they were oblivious to the thoughts inside his head that plagued him all through the afternoon after his conversation with Matt. He took another sip of his bubbly drink and instead of calming him it seemed to put him on the edge. The music pounded on, mixing with Aaron’s heartbeat and the low-level headache that pulsated at his temples. “There he is,” Matt nudged Aaron, breaking him from his thoughts, “Isn’t that Bobby Troup? And Alexander?”“What?” “Over there, they just walked in,” Matt pointed, a little too obviously, and Aaron hit him. “Would you stop that? Don’t be so blatant,” he grabbed a handful of the yellow fabric despairingly, “Although with this ridiculous get up you might as well be wearing a sign—” “I don’t even think they saw me. And even if they did, what are they going to do? Come over here and immediately start a fist fight? Look I know Alexander's unhinged but he's not that bad.” Matt finished his drink in one long, troubled gulp. Aaron swiveled on his bar stool uncomfortably, trying to remember some of the things he might have said to a mutual friend at a party, or the bar, or in passing. It was becoming exhausting, having to check himself.“What’s he got to say to you, exactly?” Matt indicated to the bartender to bring a different set of drinks, while a slim blonde woman eyed him, interested. “I don’t know. I don’t know. He’s got this ridiculous...” Aaron scanned the bar, searched for the word, “...vendetta with me. He thinks I’m not cut out for law school or something. That I’ll besmirch the revered New York Bar or some other dumb bullshit. I think he’s looking out for his reputation but I don’t know. I really don’t, Matt. You remember how he was in high school, right? He's gotten so much worse.” Matt tapped his hand rapidly against the dark wood in front of him, inclining his head again, “Well you better figure it out quickly, because he’s headed this way right now.” “What—” “—Hello Aaron,” Alexander appeared out of nowhere, with bright eyes, already sparkling with spirits. He scanned Matt, swiftly, “Big Bird. Glad you could both make it.” Bobby came up behind them nursing a lukewarm glass of light beer, sensing tension already. “Very clever Alex. But I don't think we're here to talk about your favorite TV show,” Matt replied, casually. Aaron held up a hand, “Matt-- stop. I can handle this.”“Handle what? All I wanted was to say hello and discuss some things,” Alexander cut in, a little too loudly. Beside him, Bobby sighed and sat at one of the stools, pulling out his phone for something to focus his energies on. Alexander squeezed in next to Aaron, broad grin on his mouth, “All I wanted was to say hello to my favorite Princeton boys.” “Here we go,” Bobby downed a swig of the beer.“My two favorite Princeton boys,” Alexander repeated, leaning against the bar, reeking slightly of alcohol, “Well, maybe I have three. I wish Jemmy were here.” “Alexander what do you want?” Matt tapped him on the back, irritated.Aaron shook his head quickly, but not quickly enough. “I just want to have a little discussion with Mr. Burr here,” Alexander patted him on the head, “About spreading gossip.” Aaron raised his voice, “Me? You want to talk to me about spreading gossip?” “Indeed I do, indeed I do.” Aaron's temper flared, “Alright, fine. Here I am. Let’s go.” Suddenly the bar felt smaller. "You've been a dick to me for years. Let's air it out."“Just hold on,” Bobby cut in. He raised a hand, silencing the other three, “Everybody just calm down for a damned second. I think we’re all on the same page. If you two want to talk, which is why we're all here, do it outside. Away from the crowd. Don’t make a damn scene. Because I don’t feel like dealing with the authorities tonight after someone calls the cops during a drunken bar brawl.” “I would never fight in a bar, Bobby, I have class,” Aaron responded, a little too smugly. “I can just drag you outside and kick your ass there, if everyone’s in agreement,” Alexander shot back, cheeks burning. Aaron widened his eyes mockingly, “Sounds like a date.” Alexander made a quick lunging move before Bobby grabbed his shirt to hold him back“Are you capable of holding a mature conversation, Alex?” Aaron asked, voice raised in embarrassment, “Or is this going to turn into a high school fist fight as soon as we step outside those doors?” “That depends on you.” Aaron stood up quickly, causing Alexander to instinctively flinch. “If all you’ve got for me are stupid jibes, then I’m done here,” Aaron barked. Bobby and Matt watched him warily. Alexander grabbed his sleeve. “I’m not done,” he said, raising his voice over a crescendo in the music, “We are getting to the bottom of this tonight. Let’s go. Outside. Roof top. Right now.” “I’m not going to fight you, Alexander.” Aaron shook him off while Matt began tearing another napkin. “I think we can both be mature about this, don’t you?” Alexander followed his gaze.“Yes.” Aaron looked for the door.“As long as you don’t try to hit below the belt?” Aaron’s heart rate increased and he stepped forward, “Alexander, I swear to God—”  “—This way,” Bobby took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to cut in and push each man gently towards the stairs.  **** Aaron lit a cigarette, the flame in his cupped hand reflected in his dark eyes, “Alright. Talk.” The words left his mouth in short puffs of white breath, obscuring the glittering skyline for a brief second before dissipating, before he could think. The rooftop was much less crowded, for which Aaron was thankful, but it meant Alexander’s figure came into clearer focus: pink cheeked, eyes darting, hair askew-- the same look he had the first day Aaron had met him. Aaron studied him for a millisecond out of the corner of his eye; wondered if winter agreed with him or if it made him long for the tropical beaches of his youth.Was this it, then? Where they'd lay all their cards on the table? Aaron was cynical. He took another drag and felt the frustration radiate off of Alexander in waves. Alexander cocked his head to the side, waiting. Then, "I think you're the one who owes me an explanation. Firstly, explain to me how you managed to go from academic probate to Jemmy's new best friend, just when he and I were beginning to make headway with our research for the conference in December. Secondly, tell me why everyone suddenly seems to know my business if you haven't been walking around telling everyone, like I’m supposed to be eternally grateful--”“—Did you come here just to scold me like you’re my fucking parent? It’s cold.” Aaron cut him off, cigarette dangling from his mouth. He faced the waist-height brick wall, leaned on it, stared at the inky black river in the distance and the yellow lights reflected on it. “You are unbelievable,” Alexander dropped his voice to an irritated whisper, “Did you think I wouldn't catch on?”Aaron took the cigarette from his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke in the opposite direction; stared his opponent down. He began icily, “I don’t care--because I know what you’ve been saying around my back, too. And it’s much worse.” Alexander straightened his back and inhaled, cheeks burning even in the crisp night air, “Oh?” Aaron bared his teeth. “Yeah. You can’t just go around to all our mutual friends and professors and mentors-- calling people dangerous and discrediting their name. That’s called slander. Or could you not afford to take that class?” He added cruelly.The insult bounced off Alexander as if he didn't hear it, “You have absolutely no room to talk here. I only said what I said in response to the rumors I heard about myself,” Alexander’s eyes flashed as he realized he was losing Aaron’s interest, “The rumors that only you would know.” Aaron casually tossed his cigarette into a flower pot nearby, fixing his stare back onto the skyline. It wasn't going to be an air-clearing moment, that was for sure.“And so what, Alex? So people talk. Everyone knows about what happened with your parents. Everyone knows about your Knox Scholarship. And everyone knows about you and that mess with the Laurens kid. It’s not a goddamn secret.” Alexander’s countenance turned dark, “It’s still private to me.”  Aaron turned to him, expression sardonic.Before he could cut in, Alexander finished his thought with a pointed finger. “It’s still private to me, and you have no right to talk about things you will never understand. I don’t care if you think the entire city knows my history. I need you to understand right here, right now, that you don’t have any claim over me and neither does your family. None of it gives you the right to…to… sermonize--” “ —Sermonize?” “You heard me!” At this, Alexander raised his voice, drawing the attention of several other bar patrons. Collecting himself with a deep breath, he went on, “You heard me. You are walking around spreading shit about me to our mutual friends and it has to stop, now, before it gets too out of hand.” “I’ll stop if you stop,” Aaron replied.Alexander clenched his jaw at this and Aaron reiterated, “I’ll stop if you stop. If you admit to me right here, right now, what you said about me behind my back. And apologize.” “I don’t believe this,” Alexander muttered, spinning back to face the skyline. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyesAaron attempted to catch his gaze, “Believe it. I’m not starting my career with a cloud over my reputation because you’re insecure. Did you know Dr. Paterson kept me after class one day because he thought I was contemplating dropping out and giving up on life? Said he heard it from ‘one of my friends at Columbia’. What the hell have you been telling people, Hamilton?” Alexander reached up to run a hand through his hair in frustration, and his eyes shut tightly in embarrassing recollection. “I don’t remember everything I say all the time."“Yes you do. You don’t forget anything.” Aaron found a new position against the ledge.“Fine. I said…I think I said something along the lines of…that…you’re…”“Spit it out.”Alexander shot him a withering glance, “I said you were not to be trusted and you might be cheating on your exams and plagiarizing. There. Are you happy?” “Exuberant.” Alexander clapped his hands together, “Good. Fine. Well then. Now that that’s over with—” “—Uh huh,” Aaron grabbed him by the shoulder as he began to make his way back down to the bar, “We’re not done here. I want you to promise me you’ll never say that sort of thing about me again.” “That wasn’t part of the deal,” Alexander replied. He shook the other man’s hand off of him, annoyed. “You can’t make me promise something like that. What if you do something shady somewhere along the line? What if I’m right, and you do something terrible—it’s unrealistic. I can’t make that promise.” Aaron let out a laugh of shock at the barbed response. He turned and faced Alexander squarely, “Then cross that bridge when you get there. If I do something terrible, I give you absolute authority to rake me over the coals in court.” Alexander eyed him warily, “Is this a joke? Are you mocking me right now?” “I am as serious as sin.” Alexander tugged at his collar and inhaled to catch his breath. “Fine,” He breathed, gaining confidence and locking his stare on Aaron’s, “I will hold you to your word. If you act out and put Jemmy’s—or any of our friends, really—future in danger, you will have me to deal with.” “And vice versa?” Aaron asked, hopefully, removing his hands from Alexander’s shoulders. Alexander bit the inside of his mouth, “Yes. Vice-versa.” “Now, are you ready to go back into the bar and play nice?” “If I’m ready to play nice, he says,” Alexander muttered to himself, looking down and shaking his head in disbelief, “Unbelievable. Unbelievable.” “Look, Alex, I said I was sorry,” Aaron began again, irritated, “I don’t know what else you want me to do. I assumed everyone knew about you and your family history, and Laurens—” “—Stop saying that name.” Aaron pulled out another cigarette and lit it; took a long, thoughtful drag. He rearranged himself so that the ledge was behind him, his elbows touching the cold concrete. He waited, watching Alexander collect his thoughts. Then, “You do know that I’m not the only person who knows, right? People get curious, they ask around about you-- ‘Did you hear about the genius boy with the Knox Scholarship, from a few years back? I heard his parents were arrested’-- et cetera.” Alexander shut his eyes, “I would like to think that some things are still sacred, even in this Godforsaken city.” Aaron let out an involuntary laugh, “You almost sound like my uncle.” Alexander turned his head slightly, curious. Aaron continued, dropping the timbre of his voice in an impression of his guardian, “‘You never know what kind of awful people you’ll run into, Aaron, and you were always a graceless child.'” Another drag; slim fingers dropped down once again. “He’s a riot.” Alexander faced the other boy fully, now, brows still furrowed, “He said that to you?” “Right before I left for school, yes. Uncle Timothy never let me forget what a good Christian he was, how selfless he was, for taking in an orphaned little shit like me and giving me every opportunity in the known universe. It’s...it’s part of their religious obligation. Prosperity gospel, and all that.” Aaron’s voice grew bitter.“Excuse me if I’m crossing the line,” Alexander began, thoughts formulating as they left his mouth, “But you and I both know your family is fucking loaded. Didn’t both your father and grandfather donate like...millions to Princeton? Not to mention all the missionary work-- I mean, Jesus Christ, look at me-- I don’t want to sound mean here but you’re complaining about problems that some of us would kill to have. It could have been so much worse, and you know it.”“Now you’re the one sermonizing.” “I’m serious,” Alexander couldn’t help himself, throwing his hands up and looking off into the distance, “I hate people like you. Spoiled rotten, given every advantage, thinking they are entitled to the world—” At this, Aaron raised himself up off his elbows and stuck the cigarette in his mouth, eyes widened, unsure he was hearing the other boy correctly. Alexander pressed on, “—And yet still, still you people find things to complain about. Ways to be unhappy. You have no idea what true misery is like,” Alexander concluded, looking at his hands, stretching and flexing his skin in the frigid air. As Aaron stood speechless, Alexander filled the awkward silence by recalling his own tragedies, straightening his posture, “At least you had a place to go. At least you had people willing to take you in and give you shelter. I had no one. Everything I have I had to earn. Alone.” “Wait just a goddamn minute. You and I both know that is a lie.” “What?” “If it wasn’t for my family acknowledging you as their little charity case you wouldn’t even be here. Don’t you dare play that card. You had help.” Aaron crushed the cigarette between his fingers and even in the black, chilly night air, felt his cheeks burn hot. He pointed at Alexander. “I know you. I’ve known you since you were seventeen. Don’t give me that shit.” For a moment, Alexander stood quietly, searching for a defense. Then, definitively, “I never asked to be anyone’s charity case. Knox noticed me because I worked my ass off,” Alexander fired back, putting a hand to his chest, “I studied every day to get off that fucking island. I applied for the scholarship. I raised myself when my mother left me with nothing but debts and the fear of legal repercussions because of her idiotic mistakes. I don’t owe anyone anything. And I'm certainly not going to let you stick your fingers into my business and ruin it all for me.”Aaron let out a sarcastic laugh, “Are you kidding me?”“I’m not kidding.” “Look,” Aaron said, cutting him off. He waved a hand up, cigarette between his fingers while the smoke trailed, “I don't know why you keep showing up in my peripherals. And I don't know why you insist I keep showing up in yours. But if we're going to be running in the same circles-- and it feels like that's the reality-- you need to get off your high horse. I could have been the fucking prince of Wales. Money doesn’t automatically make your life picture-perfect. My uncle had seven other children to raise. Do you think he wanted me hanging around? He didn’t ask for that. And he never let me forget it, either. Don’t you dare lump me in with them, because they never considered me one of their own.” Alexander’s pulse quickened again. “You are ungrateful,” he managed, thoughts getting tied up before they could make it out of his mouth, “You wouldn’t last two seconds in my position, what I was reduced to, what I had to witness—” “—I’m done with this conversation. I’m not going to compete with you for ‘World’s Most Tragic Life’. You’re a slutty little boy who got caught trying to screw himself stupid and you’re embarrassed. Get over it.” Before Aaron could bring the cigarette back to his mouth he felt Alexander’s hands on him, shoving him back forcefully against the sharp corner of the ledge, cutting into his skin painfully. He dodged another shove, dropping the cigarette, “Don’t you dare—”  Alexander stepped back, embarrassed at the outburst. He clenched his jaw and looked away, down, over the edge of the rooftop.“I don’t feel bad for you,” Aaron grumbled, rubbing himself where the concrete pushed into him, “I’m not going to fight you, either. It’s not worth it.”“Because you know you’d lose,” Alexander challenged. “No, Alexander, it’s because it’s childish.” Alexander pointed again in the direction of the other boy, “You have no idea what kind of people I know. Don’t you dare insult me like that again. It will be the last thing you do.” “Oh give it a rest already. I’m not scared of you.” Aaron raised his voice and faced Alexander defiantly. “You’re not going to intimidate me that easily, Hamilton. I’m not Bobby Troup. I’m not one of your little disciples you can bully into submission.” “I don’t bully.” “You do. And you are. You’re a bully. An angry little bully who wants everyone to play by his rules,” Aaron talked over the other man, who had opened his mouth to speak in his defense, “Even Jemmy. He won’t stand up to you, but I will.” “You insulted me, and I’m the bad guy?” “I can’t have this conversation anymore. I’m done. We're going in fucking circles.” Aaron thought for a moment, “I’m calling it a draw.” “I still want an apology.”“I’m sorry I insulted you,” Aaron responded, monotone. Alexander swallowed. Then, low, “...And I’m sorry…for what I said about you and your family.” “Yes, the family thing, too. I’m sorry about what I said.” Aaron looked down onto the ground, a new cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers. He took a lazy drag to calm his nerves and touched his arm, where Alexander had shoved him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” Aaron looked up, “Do what?” “Get a good hit in.” Alexander’s expression flattened, and he watched Aaron rub the spot on his forearm, “It’s crossed my mind. Someone had to put you in your place. Just needed to find the right moment. I saw it and acted. Now you know what to expect when you mess with me.” “Good Lord.” The pair grew quiet for a minute, listening to the din of the bar-goers echo into the night. Several people turned and looked at them, interested in the brief scene of violence, then, realizing it was over, continued their conversations. The evening grew colder by the second and Aaron could not distinguish between the smoke from his cigarette and the icy breaths escaping his mouth. His fingers began to grow numb. Once again, Alexander filled the silence with a dramatic turn of phrase, “I’m so humiliated. I want to leave this school.” Aaron rolled his eyes, “Would you give it a rest? No one cares about your past, or who you sleep with.” “It’s not that,” Alexander began, turning to face the other student, “It’s everything. I don’t belong here. What if you’re right? What if it was all due to luck that I was able to get here and I don’t really deserve it?” Aaron put his head down against the ledge, exasperated at the change of topic, “What are you saying? Just a moment ago you were convinced that you earned everything fairly.” “Never mind. Just forget I even brought it up again. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this anyway.” Alexander waved his hand dismissively. Aaron shook his head, scoffing quietly to himself, and took another drag on his cigarette. “I wish Jemmy were here,” Alexander proceeded to speak against his better judgment, “He always gives me the best advice. You know, the other day, he texted me and told me he was getting too distracted, living in New Jersey? He doesn’t like going into the city. He gets nervous.” “I was always under the impression Jemmy liked a little bit of fun, at least after he had a few drinks,” Aaron responded, bored. He thought about Matt, still inside the bar, no doubt listening to Bobby regale inane stories about late assignments and group projects. “He says this city is too much of a distraction,” Alexander pressed on, getting to his point, “And now I think I know why. It’s us.”Aaron rubbed his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I am not being ridiculous. He can't have his writing partner and his roommate at odds twenty-four seven."Aaron retorted, “You’re becoming a liability.” “Shut up.”“You said it yourself, Alexander,” Aaron spoke up more confidently, “he’s drifting away from you. Drama follows you like—“ “—Flies to shit. Believe me, I know.” “Well I wouldn’t have said it like that, but yeah. You get the picture,” Aaron added, “I can’t let you take all the blame for this, in fairness.”“It was a group effort.” Alexander sighed again, rubbing his eyes.“He’s lonely. I can tell you that.” Alexander looked up, alarmed, “Even with all the people you know? All the parties you drag him to?” “He says he’s always studying, and that he’s too busy for stuff like that. I’ve tried to break him out of his shell—believe me, I’ve tried everything—but it’s a vicious cycle. He’ll squeak out a hello or two at a party, something will happen to make him think people are laughing at him, and then he’ll retreat. And the more it happens, the harder it is to convince him the effort is worth it.” Aaron looked up at the sky, marveled at the stars for a brief second, and then, looking back at Alexander, “That’s when I usually give him a couple drinks to loosen him up. It works, but he always gets so sick the next day. And I feel bad.”Alexander took a moment to process the information, gazing unfocused at the space in front of him. He put his head down on the ledge, exhaled mournfully, “At least you and I have that in common.” Finally, Aaron let out a small chuckle, “Maybe the little guy is more important than he knows.” “Can you make me a promise?” Alexander began, slowly, turning to face his companion, and Aaron was certain he detected the shadow of a smile, “I mean, are you morally, spiritually, physically capable of making a promise to someone?” Aaron’s face split into a grin and he tossed his cigarette away, “With charm like that, how could I ever be angry with you?” “I am being serious, Aaron. This is about our future.” “Fire away.” “I would like us to maintain outward cordiality. At the very least. We’re going to be in each other’s circles for the foreseeable future, like you said. We can’t be...I don’t know. Severing ties this early,” Alexander toyed with a loose string on the bottom of his shirt, “That’s what everyone keeps saying. Don’t burn bridges. Not in this profession, anyway. New York is big, but it’s not that big.”Aaron looked up again, pondering the proposal, and nodded, “I’d say that’s a simple promise to keep. But I think you’re a little late on the drawl, though.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Alexander asked. “I mean I think it’s too late for us to try and salvage any kind of professional relationship between myself, you and Jemmy. From what I understand, he’s moving to Virginia as soon as he graduates and practicing there.” “Moving? He never told me...I thought he was just visiting--”Aaron merely shrugged, glancing at Alexander out of the corner of his eye, “--I didn’t ask because it’s none of my business where he moves to. He might have said something about already knowing people down there. And that the pace was slower, and he had better opportunities. He's got friends down there. Why people usually move. Don’t make another scene.”Alexander chewed on the thought for a moment. He scanned the street below, eyes darting back and forth, following cars. He seemed to be deep in thought, noticed Aaron, a war at play in his mind. Alexander straightened his back and gave Aaron another small nod, and then, just as quickly, turned on his heel and headed back inside without saying another word.Aaron’s eyes followed him until the light in the doorway of the bar swallowed him whole. “Goodbye to you too, then, I guess.”He quickly lit another cigarette to calm his nerves and give him something to do with his hands. He tightened his jacket, adjusted his scarf, the will to drink and socialize disappearing just as quickly as Alexander had. He focused on the still, cold night and the sound of the traffic below, leaning over the ledge again and watching different crowds of people shout and laugh, making their way down the sidewalk. No, it wasn't a full-on airing of grievances, but it was something. Aaron supposed the bridge had to begin somewhere. “So you’re not going to follow him, then.”A female voice carried over to Aaron, cutting through the rooftop chatter to where he stood—a statement rather than a question. Before Aaron could make out who had spoken, a short, lively brunette made her way over to him, a smile spreading across her features, bringing the same sparkling red drink that he and Matt had to her pink lips. “Dolley…? How did you—I didn’t know you were in New York—?” Aaron began, stunned to see his old friend. She reached out and hugged him, laughing. “I don’t, usually. But Philly gets old after a while,” she smiled. Aaron grinned, pulling back, “Don’t tell me you’ve outgrown the nightlife already.’“Oh I don’t know,” Dolley continued, wrapping herself tighter in a slightly frayed coat, “I’ve heard so many great things about New York, I thought I’d come see for myself. Everyone always talks about this bar,” She motioned towards the building behind her, “Holy Ground. I had to come see for myself. It sounds so dangerous and exciting.” “Uh huh. And do you want to explain to me how a twenty year old managed to get into a bar in the first place?” Dolley flashed another brilliant smile, small dimple on her left cheek, and held up a fake I.D. “Don’t ask me to tell you where I got it, though. Because I won’t.” She added, still grinning. Aaron grabbed it and observed the craftsmanship; nodded approvingly. “I would have done the same thing. I don’t care for Philadelphia,” Aaron affected an air of pretend snobbery, and Dolley hit him playfully on the arm. “It’s not that bad. It’s just that all the action seems to happen here.” She looked down, straightened out her shirt, and then, “I told myself I’d buy a bus ticket and spend the weekend here with some friends from high school. Everyone told me to come here and mingle with you Ivy-Leaguers and find some rich boy to get wrapped up in. And I thought, why the hell not? And so here I am.” Aaron rubbed his eyes, amused. “You happened upon a very exciting night.” “Apparently.” She twisted her frame to lean her back against the ledge and swept a piece of curling dark hair from her eyes, “Was that Alexander Hamilton?” “Unfortunately.” “Hmm.” Dolley smiled again and craned her neck to see the color flooding Aaron’s face. She went on, “Seemed a little upset about something.” “It’s always something,” Aaron inhaled again, and exhaled smoke. Dolley casually took the cigarette from his mouth and put it in hers. Aaron spoke, “It’s always something with him. This time it’s about Jemmy. You know Jemmy--” “--Your roommate? The short one who’s always sick?” She blew smoke pensively. “That’s him,” Aaron responded, taking his cigarette back, “He—Alexander, I mean—is afraid that we’re all pushing him away. That we cultivate too much drama and we’re ruining each others’ futures and that’s why Jemmy’s moving to Virginia as soon as he graduates. I think Alexander was expecting to use him as a reference. They were going to publish some essays in a legal journal, for peer review.” Dolley crushed a leaf under her heel, still listening intently. “Alexander actually thinks…” Aaron looked down, bemused, and giggled, “…Alexander actually thinks this is a personal insult towards him. Insists they were the best of friends until Jemmy started rooming with me, and I became a bad influence on him.” “You’re a bad influence on everyone,” Dolley replied, matter-of-factly. She remembered the charming, handsome dark-eyed boy of several months ago who managed to finagle a free stay at her single mother’s bed and breakfast—and Dolley refused to put the pieces, or what she thought were the pieces, together. “But if there’s one person who can resist bad influences, it’s Jemmy,” Aaron continued. He watched as his last cigarette died, embers burning out, on the sidewalk. Then, in a quick burst of cunning, an unguarded lie escaped his mouth. “He’s been talking about how he wants to meet someone and start a relationship. A real one. With a girl who’s not wrapped up in our drama,” He added as a creative and appropriate afterthought. Dolley turned her head and looked at him. “Well he’s not going to find her in Virginia,” she spoke up, wryly, “Southern Hospitality my ass. I couldn’t wait to leave.” “Dolley…” “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Williamsburg is a nice place. With some nice people. I shouldn’t be so harsh. But there’s more to the world than being a good wife and mother and keeping your opinions bottled up—“ “Dolley,” Aaron began again, placing a hand on her arm. “For instance, the last guy I dated started to develop a nasty alcohol habit. He was only twenty two, for Christ’s sake. Not that that’s indicative of the south alone, mind you, it’s just that everyone’s so small minded and—“ “—Dolley!” Aaron grabbed her arm.“What?” She responded, smiling in spite of herself. Then she went on, “Look, Aaron, I may be young, but I’m very experienced in certain things and I can tell you that your friend Jemmy is going to have a tough time down there if he can’t even handle himself in a group of friends. Let alone strangers.” “I know that, and that’s why I think you should introduce yourself to him.” Aaron’s mind worked quickly, watching the expressions play out on his friend’s face. “You would like him.”“Oh, don’t —“ the brunette looked away.“I’m serious. You would like him. He’s the perfect type for you. You know the area as well as anyone and I can’t think of a better companion for a recent male transplant—“ “—Listen, buddy,” she held up a finger, reasserting her gaze, a tinge of insult behind the mirth, “Let me stop you right there before this gets any more demeaning. I’m not some hooker you can pawn off onto your lonely friends so that you and Hamilton don’t have to feel guilty any more about being dickheads to each other. What am I supposed to be, a distraction?” Aaron immediately backtracked, “That’s…of course not. No, you’re right.” He held up a hand and thought quickly. “I simply meant that he expressed interest in you and—“ “—Wait, what? He’s never even met me.” “I, ah...” Aaron faltered, and lied quickly, lifting his phone, “...I showed him your profile.”Dolley narrowed her eyes, searching Aaron’s collected face, “And why the hell would you do that? What were you doing on my profile, anyway?”“We were just...I was…” Aaron glanced around, mouth dry, “...I was bored, a couple weekends ago, just hanging out in the dorm with him and looking for a hook-up and your profile popped up and Jemmy asked me why I was laughing.”“...If you say so.” Aaron swallowed and exhaled. “I don’t know how I feel about guys wanting to meet me based on a picture. I should have deleted that stupid thing. You know the last time I met someone on an app they decided they wanted to take pictures of my feet? It’s so embarrassing,” She added tiredly. “Oh, believe me, Dolley, Jemmy isn’t that type of man,” Aaron laughed and breathed easy again, settling back on truths, “He’s very timid. He won’t try anything weird with you. If it makes you feel any better, I’m ninety-six percent sure he’s still a virgin.” Dolley tilted her head back and laughed into the night air, “Okay, Aaron.” “Just meet him. Just promise me you’ll meet him when you go back to Williamsburg. Just a little dinner.” He bit his lip, and then added, “He would really like to meet you.” “And you’re sure he’s alright? You know, not a creep,” Dolley eyed him warily.“On my honor.” “There’s a vote of confidence,” she pursed her lips sarcastically. “Shake my hand, now,” Aaron pressed, holding it out. Dolley looked at it for a moment and then shook, slowly at first and then with more vigor. For a fleeting second, Aaron pretended his bachelor friend’s problems—and by extension his own—were solved.  **** Alexander prepared for another holiday alone. It didn’t even hurt anymore. Sure, if he thought about it too much, the pain would creep up inside him, through his chest and down to his fingertips-- but this was almost forced. If he stayed distracted, it would be just another weekend. He looked around his dorm, half empty since Bobby had left several days previous, and sighed.“It’s only Thanksgiving,” he reasoned out loud.Outside, through the small, dingy window, he watched the bleak November afternoon close in. Bobby’s bed, devoid of sheets and pillows, left Alexander with a strange, hollow feeling in his chest. He sat down on his own mattress and absentmindedly toyed with the edge of his sheet. It was the same every year. He made a promise to Reverend Knox he wouldn’t get too distracted by the secular revelries, as he called it, and make bad choices-- like his parents had-- but with each passing year it was harder and harder to keep it. The bed springs squeaked under Alexander’s weight as she shifted back, and he put a hand behind him to steady himself. His own possessions, scattered around the floor haphazardly, reminded him of how small his place in the world really was. A collection of clothes that would fill up one large suitcase and three pairs of shoes--formal, sneakers, sandals--huddled in the corner had begun to smell. Alexander absentmindedly stuck his free hand into his pocket, feeling for change. “Eight dollars to do a single load of laundry,” he despaired, to no one. Usually, Bobby offered to pay. This week, the orphaned student wasn’t so lucky. The buildup, usually a week before vacation, centered around thousands of students happily chattering about their plans. Family dinners, parties, a restful week with proud parents, visiting old cousins—all part of the din of conversation circling around his head. Alexander always grew unnaturally quiet when people talked about family. The college was his family. He hadn't stayed with the Livingstons in... God, how long had it been? Three years? Every year that he got older made him feel more and more out of place at their home. Privately, he hated hearing about other peoples’ lives. Publicly, he lied, with characteristic blush, that having a week to himself alone in the dorm would be a pleasure, would be a nice change.  The usual student hang outs in the city would be empty. He could go and have a drink, if he wanted, without having to worry about running into— “Fucking Burr,” he muttered, dropping onto his back. He exhaled, staring at the ceiling. The smug look on his face when Alexander admitted to being embarrassed. The casualness with which he brought up Alexander’s past as if it meant nothing, as if it didn’t humiliate him further. Like a threat. He decided to hate Burr, and that was that. Alexander stood up from the bed and walked aimlessly around his dorm, wishing for suitable company. Jemmy had gone to Virginia again, as planned. Alexander imaged him with his new friends, having a wonderful, stress-free time, enjoying his probable future home, and kicked a shoe. It skidded across the floor and slammed into a wall, leaving a mark. He stared at the scuff for a moment, and then felt his phone vibrate. Checking it, Alexander furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the unknown number. 
>I’m still in pain. I should sue you. 
Alexander shook his head and began to type, “I think you have the wrong number. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry.” Seconds later, the reply. 
>You don’t have my number? I have yours. 
Alexander’s heart began to race, remembering with distinct, paranoid clarity moments from his youth when his mother would get similar phone calls, and disappear for days on end.“Who is this?” He typed up a response quickly, then stared at the phone. >Guess. “You’re wasting my time and my minutes. Just tell me,” Alexander’s fingers began to shake and he started to come up with a plan in case the stranger on the other end was a ghost from his parents’ past, looking for restitution or lost money. 
>It’s Aaron. And I should have known you’d still being using a burner, you cheapskate. 
Alexander closed his eyes, and let out a long, somewhat relieved, sigh. He made his way back to the bed and lay down again, holding the phone aloft, above him. His thumbs moved quickly across the screen, “How did you get my number?” 
>Oh, so now you want to talk? I thought revealing myself would have the opposite reaction. 
Alexander stared at the snide reply for a few seconds before typing back, “I can only assume Jemmy gave it to you without my permission. What do you want?” 
>We never finished our conversation last month. 
“And it took you this long to get back to me?” A solid minute went by before Alexander received an answer. 
>My arm still hurts from where you grabbed me. Every time I lift my backpack it hurts. 
Alexander smiled to himself, typing, “Good. I hope it plagues you for the rest of your life.” 
>An eternal reminder of my sins. 
“What do you want?” Another few minutes passed before Alexander got a response, predictably cryptic. 
>Nothing bad. I have to talk to you about school. Do you have free time this week?
Alexander frowned at the phone. Surely not, he thought. He began to type out a smart response-- “Please, what is this really about? You don’t give a shit about school”-- but then thought better of it.There was no escaping the fact that for the next week he’d have nothing occupying his thoughts other than his own increasing estrangement from his peers. A Wednesday, a Thursday, a Friday, an entire weekend and the two days following—Alexander eyed his calendar and counted off the days—to let his mind eat him alive. He exhaled loudly, and deleted what he’d typed. He thought again, and his thumbs moved against the screen, “Where were you thinking about meeting?” Alexander placed his phone on the nightstand next to his bed and laid back, staring at the ceiling, deciding to get the meeting over with. If he could find one small sliver of common ground with the irritating little yuppie then perhaps all was not lost. The quiet minutes passed as Alexander lay on his bed, making faces out of the spackle on his ceiling, when he heard his phone vibrate. 
>I will be in the city tomorrow afternoon. Holy Ground. Four pm. 
 **** Alexander tried to remember when he’d begun biting his nails. It wasn’t a habit he’d had as a child. He sat at the edge of the bar, aware of how his clothes were not washed, chewing a hangnail. The lukewarm drink in front of him made his stomach churn and the early evening crowd had begun to filter away; the night-owls came out slowly. A short woman turned and smiled at him cautiously, and as he nodded politely in her direction, Alexander saw a small ink stain on the cuff of his wrinkled shirt. His smile faded, dismayed. “I was so sure you wouldn’t show.” Alexander felt a presence behind him and turned quickly, coming face to face with Aaron’s polite expression, framed by dark, raised eyebrows. “I didn’t have any plans this afternoon. I figured the mature thing to do would be to come and hear you out.” Aaron motioned for the bartender to bring him whatever his companion was having. As he sipped, he made a face, “What did you order? It's atrocious. Really atrocious.” Alexander scoffed and jiggled the thin straw in his drink, piqued, “Why do you even come to this place if you hate it so much?” Aaron placed a palm flat against the bar, “Neutral zone.” He took another sip and grimaced as it went down. “I need to be drunk to do this. I mean really, truly drunk.” Alexander smoothed his shirt out and rolled up his sleeves, his own wrinkled clothes standing out even more against the clean, pressed lines of Aaron’s expensive outfit. Hiding the ink stain behind the rolls of his sleeves, he went on, “What do you need to be drunk to do? Apologize to me?” “Partly.”“What’s the rest of it?”“Well, yes, an apology, I suppose,” Aaron finished his drink, “And a bit of a favor.” Alexander bit his lip and sipped his own drink, catching the setting sun out of the corner of his eye. In the corner, an updated version of a jukebox played a cheesy synth-hit from the 80’s while an oblivious couple danced as if no one were watching. The music seemed to pulsate, louder by the second. Alexander spoke over it, “What do you need?” “I’ve decided to hook Jemmy up with someone. A female someone. I think he needs companionship.” “You what?”Aaron leaned in, and Alexander watched as the dim lights flashed off his watch. “Her name is Dolley. She’s a couple years younger than us. I’ve known her for a while, and her mother,” Aaron cleared his throat, paused for effect, “And I think she’s a good match for him. She’ll get him out of his shell.” Alexander looked over at the other student, who smiled, expecting praise. He lifted a hand, dryly, “Great. Wonderful. Good job, Aaron. I still don’t know what I have to do with any of this.” “When he comes back from Virginia, I think we should all...try harder to get along. Aaron looked around at the patrons, gaze settling on the dancing couple, and then back to Alexander, “This will help ease tensions. He'll become more confident and you won't have to worry so much about him. Win, win.”“Don’t tell me how to treat my friends, Burr.” “You’ve been doing a pretty shit job, Hamilton," Aaron retorted, “You’re probably the reason he wants out of this godforsaken city.” Alexander turned his stare back to Aaron, “Excuse me?” “What are you doing this week?” Aaron’s expression stayed soft, triumphant, while he regarded the other boy. “Don’t change the subject. Why am I the reason he’s leaving? You’re the shitty roommate, not me.”“Oh, you have no idea. Actually, since Jemmy was going to be gone this whole week, I was planning on bringing back a whole bunch of women. Two or three a night, probably.” Aaron nodded to himself. “Yes. That was the plan for the holidays. I was hoping he'd walk in on me. You?” Alexander watched him, mouth hanging open, unsure whether to laugh or roll his eyes. He began again, “I…well, I…How can I beat that?” “Come on. What are your plans?” Aaron watched him over the rim of his glass.“I haven’t got any, really,” Alexander answered in one breath. Somehow speaking it made it more real, more pathetic, and he shrank in his seat, running a hand through his hair.“Well, me neither,” Aaron concluded truthfully, staring back at the bar, “My aunt is mad at me again for…something. I haven’t got the slightest clue what. And told me I’d have to get my grades up before I show my face in his house again. I was making so much progress with them, too. Shame.” Alexander muttered sarcastically into the dregs of his drink, “Oh yeah. Real rough problem you’ve got there. Relatives who care too much.” To his surprise, Aaron laughed, “The joke’s on him because I’ve still got the keys to his dusty old beach house. I could just stay there if I wanted. I don’t need him telling me where I can and can’t stay.” “You…you have a beach house?” “My family does, yeah. Up in Connecticut. Really hideous thing, right on the water near Fairfield. I don’t know who decided to buy it but they made a mistake.” Aaron took a final sip of his drink, bored, then, “When we were in high school in Elizabethtown I used to get the older students to drive me up there on the weekends if I promised to host parties in it.” The memories came flooding back to Alexander: the high school they’d both attended together and the awkward run-ins at parties, made even worse by the blatant disparity between the haves and the have-nots, of which Alexander was indefinitely part of the latter. The weight settle on him again. He lasted several months, holding on by a thread and losing himself in AP classes, until a teacher recommended an early college admission. Alexander knew Aaron, recalled the tender moment they shared at a local coffee shop, their infant affection gradually, over the ensuing years, strangled in it's crib. Caught his eye here and there in the hallways and cafeteria and some shared study halls-- and the ever-present, unforgettable fact that his wealthy family and the mega-church they founded made it possible for Alexander to come to America in the first place stung each time. “Some college kids would buy alcohol and we’d trash the place. The last time I hosted a party there some idiot drove my cousin’s BMW into a tree,” Aaron laughed to himself, but it was short lived. “I fucking hate these people.” Alexander shook himself out of his reverie. “So are you going back? For the holidays?” “What, by myself? Just me in that ghastly old beach house? That’s like the start of a horror movie.” “No I mean,” Alexander waved a hand; the music in the corner pounded on, “With girls or boys or...whatever it is you’re into. Why waste your holiday at school when you have a perfectly good opportunity to get away?” Aaron closed his eyes and laughed again, short, then closed his eyes. He thought for a moment, then opened them. After a few seconds, Aaron answered, “Because the whole place just reeks of them. My family. The whole thing is just a reminder of everything I hate about them. I would rather stay at school. If my uncle found out I was digging around in his shit he'd probably have me arrested or something equally insane."Alexander saw an opportunity, and took it, “Well I’d like to see it. I have nowhere to go for the week. I’m going to be bored, alone, until Monday. And at the very least I’d like an opportunity to do my laundry.” He grew warm with nerves, but pressed on despite Aaron’s bemused stare, “Just give me the keys. I’ll keep myself occupied, and we’ll call it even.” “Even for what?” Aaron laughed. “For the fight.” “You bruised my arm! I thought that was even.”Alexander hid a smile and scratched his cheek, “If you want me to help you out with Jemmy—“ “—Alright, alright,” Aaron held up a hand. “How’s this: you let me chaperone you in my family’s beach house, for the weekend, and then we’ll call it even. I’ll even do your laundry for you.” “I’m sorry, do I look like I need a chaperone? You want a favor from me, this is the price. Get me out of this city for a weekend and I’ll work my magic on little Jemmy. I’ll make him feel like the most important person in the entire universe. I’ll let him write all my papers.” “And I’m telling you the stipulations. No one’s getting into that house without me. Least of all you.” Alexander raised an arm holding a half empty glass in a mock toast.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Even the weather was more forgiving than his own friends as Jemmy stepped out of the airport, blinking, into the bright sunlight. The heat at the southern latitude was a welcome distraction from the chill in the air he felt, ever present, around him, back in New Jersey. He smiled and checked his watch, noticing with delight that the plane had landed exactly on time, right to the minute. Thomas would appreciate that. In a few moments, he saw the small white Prius pull up, silent, and the freckled face sitting in the driver’s seat smile. “Thanks again, Thomas, for picking me up. I promise I’ll reimburse you for gas money,” Jemmy replied as he pushed his suitcase into the cramped back seat. The truth was that Jemmy hadn't driven a car in nearly ten years-- but Thomas didn't need to know all that just yet. “No need, actually,” came a light southern drawl, “Did you know this vehicle gets nearly one hundred miles to the gallon? Amazing.” Jemmy nodded to himself, of course, and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. “Regardless,” he began, buckling himself in and marveling at how clean the interior was, “You’ll have to let me at least take you out to eat, or get you a thank-you gift. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to be getting away for a few days. It’s so warm here.” “That bad, huh?” Thomas turned the wheel precisely, maneuvering them out of the airport parking lot and onto the highway. The clouds tumbled through the sky and Jemmy fished through his carry on for his sunglasses. “Oh, it’s not terrible. I can ignore most of it. Studying keeps me busy,” he felt his mouth go dry talking nervously to his relatively new friend. Thomas laughed, a tiny, crystalline noise, “The weather? You can ignore the weather?” “Oh! I thought you meant…my roommate,” he found his sunglasses. A lens had popped out and Jemmy’s expression dropped. Thomas didn’t notice, but nodded solemnly, a small smile still affixed to his thin mouth. Jemmy turned to look at him for a moment, mentally digested his outdoorsy Birkenstock sandals and pale, freckled arms that probably hadn’t seen sunlight in quite some time, and grinned. “No, I meant the weather. It’s been gorgeous here. Unnaturally warm for this time of year. Not always a good thing, though,” Thomas’ countenance darkened, and he shook his head, “I went to see a speaker about climate change last week. He said this winter would be a mild one. Such a scary thing.” “Oh, I agree.” “But we’ll make it,” Thomas said, redirecting the conversation again and putting his blinker on. Its precise, metronome ticking filled the silence. After a moment, Jemmy spoke up. “So…how are things at the university?” Thomas had attended William and Mary for undergrad and now, as a man almost ten years older than Jemmy, for doctoral work. Jemmy shielded his eyes from the sunlight coming in through the window as it seeped through his dark shirt and made him sweat. He only then realized Thomas hadn’t bothered to turn the air conditioning on. “Oh, it’s fantastic,” Thomas began, “I couldn’t have asked for a better place to be. The professors, my colleagues…they’re all just wonderful. I’ve started thinking about another paper to write, I think with a more political bend, about what we as a human race are doing to this planet and when it means for the people in charge, but I have to run it past some people first.” Jemmy nodded along at the correct moments, happy to be in the company of someone who’s every thought did not revolve around hedonism or gossip. “I think that’s a splendid idea,” he piped up. Truthfully, Jemmy hadn’t put much thought into the environment—but he was happy to hear someone talk about something they were clearly passionate about without an air of affectation.“I’m also thinking about doing some work abroad again, in France, of course. You remember when I told you about the first time.” “Vaguely,” Jemmy replied. Actually, he remembered very vividly, and was jealous he’d never gotten the opportunity. He responded, “You’re fluent in the language. You love the culture. You might as well.” “I just feel so at home there. The French just… get it.” Thomas hadn’t picked up on the bitterness. In another few minutes, the students were parked in front of a tiny, one story bungalow. It shocked Jemmy how normal the whole thing seemed. The way Thomas talked, he’d expected him to live in a circular tree house, powered by rain water. “This is it,” Thomas said, stepping out of the cramped Prius and stretching. “It’s certainly not where I’d like to spend the rest of my days. But the rent is cheap, the energy costs are low. And the view is magnificent.” He extended an arm around him, to a field across the street, several other small ranchers dotting the landscape, and a deep, lush forest. He pointed towards the setting sun, “William and Mary is about a half hour that way.” Jemmy looked around him, and exhaled. “It’s perfect. Very secluded. Good for studying.” Thomas nodded and looked up at the sky, “Also, because there isn’t any light pollution, you know, like in those large cities, I get a fantastic view of the night sky. I’ve started to get into astronomy.” Jemmy nodded again, aware of how ignorant he felt. Thomas “got into” heady sciences like certain people got into new genres of music. Picking each subject off a shelf, Thomas opened the box of knowledge, took out all the parts, and glued them back together perfectly after figuring out all sides--then sat back and admired his pristine work. He was a good resource. “Well that should be fun,” Jemmy wheeled his suitcase behind him, into the house, where Thomas stood holding the door. Though the interior was small, everything was in its place. The floor had been vacuumed, the shelves, dusted. Not a single knick-knack--Jemmy struggled with what to call the odd artifacts sitting on various surfaces—probably from Thomas’ archaeology phase--was out of place. There was no television, only an old fashioned radio sitting in the corner, its guts and wires spilling out into a box on the floor next to it. Here and there Jemmy saw evidence of his friend’s unique and restless genius: Unfinished architectural sketches taped to a drafting table in the kitchen down the hall, an entire wall lined with old books, stacked as neatly as possible. Jemmy wondered when, between all the studying and discovery, Thomas had had time to straighten up. “I simply called a maid service.” Jemmy nodded absentmindedly and followed his eclectic companion into the kitchen. Genius certainly had no time for the mundane. “Would you like anything to drink? To eat?” Thomas asked politely, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out two crystal-clear glasses. “I have soy milk, if you’d like to give that a try. Tofu burgers sound awful but they are in fact delicious with hummus. I’m trying out a bit of a vegetarian diet lately. Meat just doesn’t sit well with me.” Jemmy looked at him blankly for a moment, then nodded at the soy milk. “Me neither, to tell you the truth,” Jemmy admitted. He never cared for dairy products. “The only time I’ve tried soy anything was this soy ice cream I bought for my roommate by accident last year. He said it tasted like plaster. I ended up actually liking it.” In his mind, Jemmy saw Aaron’s face curl up in disgust at the mistaken purchase. It had been pretty rude of him. “Oh, same here,” Thomas grinned, watching the liquid fill the glass, “I can’t stand most dairy products nowadays. Too many disgusting chemicals. I’ve also baked some vegan banana nut bread, if you’re interested.” “You really are a renaissance man, huh?” Jemmy had meant it as a joke; Thomas nodded absentmindedly in agreement, staring out the window above the kitchen table. “I simply followed the instructions as they were laid out, in the cookbook. People make such a big deal out of baking, saying it’s not like cooking, that there is a chemistry to it. But I did it no problem.” He sliced a piece of the cake on the counter, put it on a plate, and placed it on the table. “Well I’m glad I chose to spend the week here, so I could see this new hobby for myself,” Jemmy bit into the loaf, and was pleasantly surprised. Thomas brushed some of the crumbs into the deep, stainless steel sink, “Everyone needs to get out of the city more often. It’s not healthy to be living in such cramped quarters. You need a vacation.” Before he could stop himself, Jemmy made a noise, “You’re telling me.”Thomas turned a strange, unfocused gaze back to Jemmy, regarding him seriously, “You weren’t kidding when you told me how awful it had gotten.”Jemmy accidentally bit the inside of his cheek, instinctively moving to the defensive, “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s unbearable. It’s just…the crowd up there is…” “City people are different. Colder,” Thomas looked down at the cake and cut himself a slice, biting into it cleanly, “Richmond is bad enough. I can’t even fathom New York.” “But you like Paris,” Jemmy offered. Thomas pretended not to hear him, and Jemmy knew when not to press a subject. “Such a dirty, selfish place. I can’t understand why someone would willingly live there. Let alone think they can get a good education with so many distractions. I've always held that people do better in the open, fresh air.”“Okay, well, it’s not that bad,” Jemmy replied, “And besides, Princeton isn’t an awful city at all. It’s actually very quaint. Lots of…you know, locally owned artisan shops. You’d like it.” “I just think you’re making the right decision, transferring here. I think I’d like to take up law, too, you know. We could practice together.” Jemmy let out a small cough and saw a crumb fly out of his mouth. “Oh?” “I’ve been giving it some thought,” Thomas chewed solemnly, “Either that or work at the university.”“I’m sure you’d do wonderfully as a professor,” Jemmy offered, finishing his slice of cake. The sun outside dipped below the horizon and Thomas reached for a lamp nearby, grinning broadly as the clinically cold light of an LED bulb flickered on. “Energy savers. They're more expensive when you buy them, but they last for about twelve years. I don’t know why they haven’t caught on.” The entire kitchen became engulfed in a chilly, hospital-like glow. Jemmy leaned back in his seat. “What is on your mind?” Thomas asked after a few moments of silence. “It’s my roommate. I’m sorry to keep harping on the same subject.” “No need to apologize.” “Him and his friends. And his enemies,” Jemmy added, remembering with embarrassing clarity Aaron’s description of the fist-fight he and Alexander engaged in, in an uncharacteristically long string of texts he’d received last night, “A friend and I were supposed to write for this legal journal-- you know, get published. Get our work out there. And they’re trying to sabotage it.”“Very unhealthy,” Thomas agreed, brows furrowed. “What did you say his name was?” “Aaron Edwards-Burr.” Thomas looked away in thought, putting a thin hand to his lips, “I’ve heard that name before. It sounds familiar but I can’t place it.” “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jemmy exhaled, turning his glass against the woodgrain of the table top, launching into the story, “You probably know his grandfather. Edwards-- he got famous for this...I wouldn’t even call it a church, really. More like a devoted following. Then he made millions in the 80’s and 90's by building and cultivating some megachurch upstate. Started a bunch of charities, which, frankly, probably helped launder money, but no one can be sure. He and his son-in-law donated millions to Princeton, and were both on the board—“ “—Nepotism disgusts me. I’m sorry, Jemmy. I’m sorry you’re a victim of that sort of spoils system.” “Well, it’s not just Aaron. It’s his cousin. Cousins, I should say. He has about a million. And then there’s Alexander Hamilton—“ “—Sorry to interrupt. Friend or enemy?” Thomas inclined his head politely. “It’s...not that easy,” Jemmy scratched his head, “I think they hate each other. Every time I get cornered by one of them it’s to piss and moan about the other. Alexander thinks Aaron is a spoiled, ungrateful trust-fund baby and Aaron thinks Alexander is a reckless idiot. And between the two of them I can’t think straight anymore. They’re driving me insane. And I have to get out before I get distracted. It's starting to affect my studies. Hence the transfer.”Thomas nodded again, “Hamilton. Yes, I think I’ve heard his name before. Is he published?” “Published?” “In academic journals, as you mentioned. I was doing some research a few years on ways to incentivize corporations to be more green and I remember stumbling across some god-awful diatribe about appealing to banks to be the saviors of the world--and it left a bad taste in my mouth,” Thomas waved his hand. “Oh. Probably. If it was a financial thing, it was probably him. He’s been published before, always business law. Mergers and acquisitions, that is his field,” Jemmy swallowed another sip of the drink, “Aaron hasn’t. He just brings girls back to my dorm to fuck.” “Jemmy, God,” Thomas turned red at the word and choked back a laugh. Jemmy was on a roll, and let his anger burst forth. “I just can’t take it anymore. Alexander, with his self-righteous sermonizing about how he’s going to be a big shot on Wall Street someday, constantly talking about bettering himself, acting like he’s the only one who’s ever felt worthless. And Aaron’s complete disregard for the rules. He’s so spoiled, Thomas, so entitled. They both think the world owes them something. Alexander thinks that because he’s struggled that he’s somehow better than me, and Aaron thinks that because he’s been given everything that he’s somehow better than me.” “I’m so sorry, my friend,” Thomas let out a small, solemn sigh, “If it’s any consolation, I can put in a good word for you at the university, with some of the professors, to see if they know of any potential job openings down here.” “I would greatly appreciate that, Thomas,” Jemmy said definitively, making up his mind on the spot. He hadn’t given much thought to leaving New Jersey so soon, but talking about it out loud, and feeling the heat of his anger across his pallid cheeks and around his neck, made him drastically reconsider. “You seem to have your mind made up,” Thomas laughed again, his own placid features spreading into a grin. “Like I mentioned, I was supposed to do some research with Alexander to write for the Federalist Journal--” “--And now?”Jemmy nodded to himself, agitated, shrugging, “I’ll help him, because I promised to. I’m going to try and rectify these friendships. But I don’t know. Feels like fighting a losing battle.” **** Aaron was the first out of the taxi, grabbing his small backpack and slamming the door with a look of distaste on his face. Alexander wasn’t far behind, still pondering the ride. Aaron had been quieter than usual as the cab fled down back streets and through intersections, staring listlessly out the window. He’d been the same on the train ride, although it was hard to talk with the loud rattling of the tracks through subways and the din of the rest of the riders. Alexander stared into his lap, at his hands, at the floor, at the weird stain on the seat between them—at anything else, really, other than Aaron. He wondered how he’d let himself get this far: inviting himself into someone’ beach house without it being their idea, and wanted to cringe. Alexander used the silence to try and remember why he and Aaron had begun fighting in the first place. It was nothing--a spark of nonsense that spread out of control and humiliated him. He kept reminding himself that the reason he’d taken charge was in order to have some control. If you can control the source of the negativity, Alexander reasoned, you’ve got nothing to fear. He stole another quick glance at the boy next to him as the car halted in front of their destination.The taxi driver sped off after Aaron paid him, leaving the two students standing awkwardly at the foot of a long, well maintained driveway, in front of a locked gate.“Well, here it is, I guess,” Aaron offered, breaking the silence and walking up to a lock box, pressing a handful of numbered buttons to unlock it. He shifted his book bag onto his back and walked down the driveway toward the front door, fishing in his pocket for the house keys, “God, it’s awful.” Alexander couldn’t bring himself to entertain the notion that a house like the one he stood in front of was anything other than spectacular. It was exactly how he’d imagined it would be, pastel, coastal, old-money New England chic. He guessed it was nearly five thousand square feet—close enough to the ocean that he could hear crashing waves and angry sea gulls—and by the look of the cut grass and manicured plants around him, it had been taken care of even when the family wasn’t there. Probably by paid gardeners. Someone did care about this house. “Your definition of awful and my definition of awful must be two very different definitions of awful, then,” Alexander muttered as he followed the other boy, trying not to stare and look like a bumpkin. Once inside, Alexander wasn’t surprised to see a beautifully furnished living room and kitchen, a large television, expensive furniture, this crystal, that painting, those priceless antiques— “Want anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open?” Alexander was unaware Aaron had stopped to stare at him. Aaron, meanwhile, looked like his insides were numb at the sight of all the old family artifacts. “I’m…just let me take it all in…” “There’s not much to ‘take in’,” Aaron responded shortly, turning his back in embarrassment and walking into the kitchen, “It’s just a house, Hamilton.” “Well I’ve never been in one this nice before. You should take it as a compliment.” “Jesus Christ, you’re starting already. Look, I already told you. I hate this place. I hate what it represents. I hate the pretentious garbage in it. I’m only letting you stay here as an apology gift.” Alexander brought his gaze back to Aaron, eyebrows raised, “Fine. I won’t... compliment your house, I guess.” He wheeled his suitcase into the living room and sat down on a plush sectional, unsure what to do next.“So. Laundry,” Aaron reminded him from the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water from the sink. “Won’t your uncle wonder where you’re going for the holiday?” Alexander asked, still looking around. He resisted the urge to let the trite comparisons filter in and out of his thoughts-- something out of a movie--  “He thinks I’m staying at school.” Aaron interrupted his thoughts, walked over to the couch with another glass of water, and offered it to Alexander. He sat down and continued, “But really, he doesn’t care about me. He cares about reputation.” “And therefore you, as the product of reputation.” “Alright, fine, you win. Jesus.” Alexander rolled his eyes and sipped his drink.He took the opportunity to look around again, trying to gauge where everything was. Stairs led up, out of the kitchen, along with another set on the far end of the living room. A row of twelve-foot windows lined the far wall, giving an expansive, breathtaking view of the beach itself and the slate-grey sky. He couldn’t make out each individual book on the built-in shelves that surrounded the fireplace to their left; Aaron caught him staring intently.“What are you looking at? The books?” Aaron said, inclining his head toward them.Alexander laughed nervously, “Sorry. Yes. There’s just...a lot to take in. I feel like I’m gonna run into… I don’t know. Patrick Bateman or Scarface or something.”“Christ,” Aaron chuckled into his glass, almost charmed. He swallowed, “Nope. Just hideous WASP-y kitsch.”They were quiet again; Aaron reached behind him and clicked on a lamp. Outside, the waves crashed, and the gulls sang, and Alexander stared into his drink. “What time is it?” Aaron maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position on the couch. Alexander checked his phone, “Nearly six.” “Want to see if there’s anything to eat here?” “...Sure.” Aaron led them both into the kitchen and Alexander situated himself at a silver barstool while the other boy rummaged around in several cabinets. He watched him; Aaron spoke again. “We might have stuff left over from the summer, pasta or something. I don’t know. The pantry is usually pretty well-stocked--”“--You’ll need sauce too, you know, it’s not just pasta,” he called to Aaron, who had his head stuck in a cabinet. “Want me to see if there’s any that hasn’t expired? In the fridge or something?” “Yes, if you don’t mind.”Alexander found one single jar and placed it on the counter, studying the label as a bland distraction, while Aaron fished out a box of linguini. “Won’t anyone ask where the food has gone? I mean, won’t they notice it’s missing when they come back?” Alexander leaned over the counter while Aaron filled a giant pan, a pained smile on his face. “Not at all.” “An entire box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce? Gone? No one will ask questions?” “We’re not exactly starving here, Hamilton,” Aaron shot back, lifting the pot onto the stove and sprinkling in some salt. He clicked the gas stove on with a burst of blue flame. Alexander raised his eyebrows, defensive, “Right, I forgot. You could probably buy an entire tomato farm and make the shit yourselves.” “I’ll leave that to Jemmy’s weird farmer friends,” Aaron grinned, stirring the noodles as the water began to boil after a few silent minutes. He looked back up, noticed Alexander’s discomfort and tried to ease it, “Don’t think too much about him. People change. People grow apart. It’s a part of life.” Alexander wasn't buying it, “Come on. Only people who’ve never been forcefully abandoned say trite things like that. You should know better. Do you need help with pouring the water out? It looks heavy.” “Yes, thank you.” Alexander grabbed the metal strainer and held it over the sink while Aaron poured. The steam rose up quickly, hitting him in the face. Several minutes later, after a brief struggle with opening the jar of tomato sauce and finding an appropriate amount of Parmesan cheese, the two students had a respectable dish of pasta. “I can’t remember the last time I actually made myself dinner,” Aaron said, “Usually I just go to the cafeteria, or buy something pre-made. This is...quaint.” He carried his bowl to the other side of the counter, where two bar stools stood. Alexander dutifully followed, unsure where to take the conversation.  “I keep a loaf of bread and a giant box of ramen in the dorm. It’s all you need, really. Bobby hates the stuff. He thinks ramen is disgusting.” Alexander shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth while Aaron smiled benignly at him. Alexander went on, “I don’t understand why. It’s not that bad. Unhealthy, certainly. But good in a pinch.” “Oh I can’t imagine Bobby would want anything to do with ramen, yeah.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “I know all about Bobby and the Ramen,” Aaron pressed on, clearing his throat, “You didn’t really hang out with him too much back in high school, but he and I were fairly close. Bobby’s always been…you know, a little on the pudgy side. Never a really healthy eater, either. Before you showed up, when we were about fifteen, he became obsessed with the stuff. His parents tried everything to get him off it—took him to the doctor, made him try weird foods, hypnosis-- I mean everything. And he still insisted on eating only ramen.” Alexander scraped his fork against the bottom of his bowl, unsure whether asking for seconds would be rude. He listened intently to Aaron’s story. “One day, after about a month of eating literally only ramen, he collapsed in the middle of science class. Just right there on the floor. I was sitting right next to him when it happened. He started yelling about being in pain and clutching his abdomen. The teacher thought his appendix had burst and started calling 911,” Aaron gesticulated with his hands, a tiny smile ready to burst forth on his mouth, “He was out of school for a few days and everyone thought the worst.” Aaron couldn’t help himself, and began to laugh, “Well, it turns out he had something called a bowel obstruction. All that ramen made him so constipated that he hadn’t taken a crap in two weeks.” Alexander choked on the last of his noodles as he laughed into his glass of water his face turning bright red. “The poor guy was humiliated."“So that’s why he always goes pale whenever I pull out a packet of ramen,” Alexander chuckled as he put his drink down, “It all makes sense.” “Yep,” Aaron shook his head in reverie, still smiling, “Good old Bobby. I love the guy. But he’s just about as awkward as they come.” Alexander looked to his left, outside a window at the white-capped ocean. He briefly remembered his laundry; Aaron eyed the other boy’s empty glass. “You want anything else to drink?” “Oh, that would be great, thank you,” Alexander held out his glass helpfully. Aaron’s smile turned mischievous, “No. I mean, a drink.”  “I…oh.” Alexander felt silly; pulled his empty cup back towards him, mildly embarrassed. “I know there’s some ancient port hiding around here somewhere. Perfect for a chilly night. Or, if you want to stay in the pasta vein, some Italian merlot. Red wine goes best with pasta.” “I didn’t know.” Aaron opened cabinets quickly; one by one he stuck his head inside, moved items around, looking for the alcohol. In the last one, he found it, behind several boxes of pancake mix, letting out a soft, triumphant ah, holding it at arm’s length. “They hide it because they don’t like to see it. Everyone thinks if you hide your vices it makes them go away. Repressed, all of them.” Aaron explained, looking in another cabinet for wine glasses. Then, pausing, “Oh, of course not. No. They wouldn’t buy wine glasses.” He motioned for Alexander to give him the empty glass cup. “We’ll have to do this the classless way.” “You don’t have to share the wine if you don’t want to,” Alexander remarked, looking at the bottle and noticing, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, the hefty price tag sticker still on the neck. “Nonsense. It will be funny to see my aunt try and figure out where her wine went without being able to explicitly ask,” Aaron handed the glass back to his companion, filled with deep crimson liquid. “Cheers, Hamilton,” he raised his cup, Alexander mimicked him. The last of the sunlight dipped below the horizon and Aaron reached out for a light switch. Several recessed track lights flickered on in the cozy living room. “Cheers,” Alexander responded. The expensive wine went down smoothly, and Alexander felt himself smiling more and more. “Tell me how this house came to be in your family. I mean I know you hate it,” Alexander swiveled his head this way and that, a little too loosely, looking at his surroundings again, “But I want to know why they bought it. I thought your family taught simple living. Or something.” The pair made their way to the couch again, facing the row of cold glass windows.Aaron shrugged, mildly embarrassed, settling in, “I don’t know. I really don’t. It belonged to a great uncle of mine. Stephen.” “Great Uncle Stephen,” Alexander repeated, smiling and nodding, as if he knew him. “He’s one of the few relatives I can actually stand. The guy’s a nut. But I love him. One of these rooms is his. It’s upstairs.” Aaron moved around in his seat, checked the clock on the wall, “I should show you around. We’ve been here for nearly three hours and I haven’t even offered you a tour.” “I figured it was because you hated the place. I just need to do my laundry, I don’t need a tour,” Alexander laughed. He tilted his head back and finished the last of his wine, letting it burn his tongue and liking the way the tartness lingered in his mouth. “Come on,” Aaron stood, “It’s the polite thing to do.” In a matter of seconds they were walking through a hallway leading from the living room to the dining room. Also spectacular, Alexander thought, eyeing the china in the glass cabinet and the brilliantly shiny mahogany table. Then onto the family room, complete with another wall-mounted television, and beyond that, thankfully, the laundry room at the back of the house. At the end of the hallway were the other set of stairs. “I haven’t been here in so long,” Aaron muttered to himself absentmindedly, ascending the steps. Alexander slowly followed. Once at the top, they were faced with another long hallway. “I’m sure you know what a bedroom looks like,” Aaron continued, his own glass of wine still a quarter of the way full. He swirled it around, looking into it dolefully, and then drank. “How many bedrooms are there?” “Six, at last count.” “I thought you had twelve cousins, in total?” Alexander responded confidently, before he could stop himself.  Aaron groaned, “Twenty, actually. But the most that ever lived with me at one time was seven. Most of them are old enough to go away to school or live on their own.” Alexander nearly dropped his glass, “I’m sorry, did you say twenty?” “I did,” Aaron looked around uncomfortably, “But they’re not all blood related. It’s…my family is complicated. Come with me.” Alexander had no choice but to follow, down the hallway and past several rooms, into a larger opening at the end; what Alexander assumed was a bonus room over the garage. Lined up on a shelf at the far end of the wall were a series of photographs. Aaron pointed to them from a distance, as if walking to close would make him sick. “Those are them. My family. Well, most of them.” Aaron stayed put, addressing them; Alexander walked closer while he explained further. “The picture on the far right is me, my sister and my parents. Before they died. It’s the only one I have of all four of us together.”Alexander stared at the photograph for a minute, taking it in. The small, dark-haired toddler being held by his similarly colored mother was clearly Aaron. A young girl of four or five stood next to her father, clutching his leg, squinting in the sun. The father himself stood apart from his wife by several inches, a tiny smirk on his mouth, alarmingly akin to the one Aaron wore earlier when he’d suggested they drink alcohol instead of water. Alexander smiled to himself. “I like your parents,” He lifted the photo and looked back at Aaron, “You mother was beautiful. And your father looks like he was a decent guy.” Aaron shrugged, “Maybe I got the good genes.” Alexander wracked his brain trying to remember all that Reverend Knox had said about the family that sponsored him, and their church with bottomless pockets, “He was a pastor, too, right?”Aaron nodded mutely and set his glass down, putting his hands in his pockets and walking closer, slowly, “Yeah. He met my mom and her family and they all clicked immediately, being...religious. My grandfather was already pretty loaded at that point so I think my dad just fell into line and did whatever he said.”Alexander put the picture back down and scanned the others: most of the figures weren’t smiling, and most looked old, even the young ones, bored, or scared. “They’re mostly my mother’s family. She has eight siblings. My Uncle Timothy is the oldest. His wife loves kids. I don’t know why, honestly, she can hardly keep them under control, and he’s terribly intimidating, but there you go,” The affectation came back to Aaron’s voice and he was at Alexander’s back, explaining further, “It’s terrible but…when I was ten I ran away after seeing a program about foster care. I was hoping someone else would adopt me.” Alexander waited, unsure how to respond, and uncomfortable with the similarities between their upbringing. “That was the most vivid memory I have of my uncle’s temper.” “You don’t have to tell the story if you don’t want to,” Alexander offered quickly. He tried to keep the conversation light, lifting a different photograph, “They all look very... solemn. Numerous and solemn.” “And religious,” Aaron leaned in and whispered, “No contraceptives.” Alexander felt Aaron’s breath hit his ear and warmed, putting the picture frame down like it burned him.Aaron stepped back and walked over to a different bookshelf, absentmindedly thumbing through one after another before putting them back. He sighed, looked out the window, and waited for his guest to speak. Finally, Alexander found his words again, offering insight into his own childhood, “I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I don’t have a single photograph of my mother. Or father, for that matter. I’m sure there are some back on the island, but I didn’t bring any with me.” Aaron waited, sensing that the other boy had more to say on the matter. He was right, and Alexander spilled forth, lifting a hand, “...You probably already know everything, anyway.”It was as if the nerve had been successfully hit, and the memories came flooding back: Alexander's brief time at their shared high-school when Aaron tried to befriend him, knowing only enough about the new student to have his curiosity piqued but too shy and awkward to ask for details. “I’d like to hear it from you,” Aaron admitted.Alexander looked at him and blinked, caught off-guard. Then, “Well. The rumors that are out there are fairly accurate. My parents backpacked all over Europe and ran out of money and got scammed into smuggling drugs by someone they thought was a friend. Ended up on Nevis trying to avoid the feds...then I came along...and my dad couldn’t handle an infant and my mom’s...issues…”He stopped, suddenly remembering where he was. Alexander turned to look at the other boy, who was waiting patiently. Alexander shrugged, skimming over the darker details, “She overdosed when I was thirteen and my dad disappeared. Presumably dead.”Aaron thought for a moment, then, gently, “I think one thing we can agree on here is that neither one of us is anything like our relatives. For the better.” “Fair enough.” “Come on. I want to show you all of Uncle Stephen’s weird shit. You’ll love it,” Aaron walked over to him and tugged Alexander's sleeve, leaving the empty wine glass on the bookshelf. They reached the room in question and Aaron jiggled the door handle, thinking it was locked. After several swear words and a slight kick, it opened. “This is Great Uncle Stephen’s room. I don’t remember the last time he used it for anything other than storage, but who cares. The guy is a little nutty. My uncle hates him and my aunt thinks he needs to be medicated. He’s the only one I can stand,” Aaron reiterated. The two boys walked over to a sagging bookshelf of fading, torn yellow spines—organized by date—a staggering number of National Geographic magazines. Aaron turned his head sideways to read the titles. “Most of these are from before I was born.” Alexander was stunned into silence. There was more to the room than just old magazines. Clearly, he reasoned, the man was a hoarder, because there were hundreds of different books sitting on shelves lining each wall. Many were torn and old, some completely without binding, held together by duct tape. Still others were missing jackets. Many were dog-eared and worn. Great Uncle Stephen didn’t simply collect books, he loved them to death. “This is insane, Burr,” Alexander muttered, without thinking. Aaron looked embarrassed, and he corrected, “I mean, in a good way.” “He lives in New Hampshire somewhere. Probably on a farm with horses. Brewing moonshine.” “His own little slice of heaven,” Alexander picked up a particularly damaged book, grimaced at the title, and put it down again. “Oh dear.” “What’s that?” “I think that was porn.” Aaron laughed, “Yeah. He’s got those, too. I’ve been trying, my entire life, to figure out his organizational logic, and I can’t. I think he’s got them separated by genre, but—“ “—National Geographic, pornography and cookbooks,” Alexander finished, craning his neck to see another shelf of recipe books. “Sounds about right,” Aaron chuckled again. He stepped back and bumped into a table of tarot cards, and swore, “Goddammit, Stephen. What did I tell you about leaving your devil magic out where people can see it?” Alexander turned and looked, “Oh my God.” “And that’s why he lives in an undisclosed location in New Hampshire.” Aaron picked up several cards, marveled at the grim artwork, and put them down again, “Because I’m almost positive that if my Uncle Timothy ever found out he was conjuring spirits and making astrological birth charts he and the rest of my relatives would literally hang him.” “Harsh,” Alexander whispered, looking at the cards himself. A low table, covered in a dusty, moth-eaten cloth and more strange knick-knacks caught his eye, “Is that an alter?” “Oh, probably. Stephen is a pagan. In every sense of the word. Wicca, astrology, tarot, meditation, yoga and hypnosis, you name it. One time he and my aunt got into a screaming match about me because he said so many restrictions shouldn’t be placed on an Aquarius.” “I didn’t know,” Alexander picked up a snow globe souvenir from the island of Nevis and rolled it, grinning. “Very important that I should be allowed to make my own way in the world, he insisted. My aunt told him that astrology was the devil’s business and then I’m pretty sure he exposed her drinking problem. Now that’s a proper Thanksgiving.” Alexander laughed again and held up the snow globe, “Your Great Uncle Stephen is fantastic.” “Oh that stupid thing. I doubt he’s ever been to the Caribbean.” “Snows all the time. Can’t get away from it.” Aaron rubbed his eyes and his grin spread, “Anyway. After the screaming match about astrology, Great Uncle Stephen decided he’d had enough and moved away the next week, really quickly, which is why he left a lot of his stuff here.” Alexander grabbed another dog-eared book about alchemy and leafed through it, “He sounds like a wizard.” “He was probably a wizard,” Aaron grew wistful, “I miss him though.” “Everyone has that one relative they like better than all the others. I think it’s just…human nature. I remember reading somewhere that we’re programmed to both love and hate our family. So we don’t breed with them.” Aaron almost dropped a small glass elephant figurine he was studying, “Jesus. You are drunk.” Alexander smiled and shrugged, “It’s true, though. It’s an evolutionary defense mechanism.” “Ooh, evolution,” Aaron clucked his tongue, scolding, “Mr. Hamilton, everyone knows that evolution is a lie and that God created everything in seven days.” “I’m sure he had something to do with it, too,” Alexander flashed a wine-stained grin, quickly, and then went back to leafing through the old magazines. Aaron walked closer, pointing a finger. “None of that liberal science mumbo-jumbo,” he responded, quietly, mockingly, “Or I’ll make you stay after class writing lines from the Bible.” Alexander widened his eyes and placed a hand over his heart, playing along, “Oh, teacher, I promise I’ll be good.” Aaron chuckled, turning back to the hideous figurine in his hand. A few seconds of silence passed between them while Alexander pretended to read the blurred words of an old magazine, wondering why his fingers had suddenly gone numb. “Want to read each other’s fortunes?” Aaron spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable quiet. Alexander looked up and laughed, “What?” Aaron settled himself in a frayed chair in front of a window, and flipped through the pages of the zodiac book he’d noticed earlier, “I think my birth chart is in here somewhere. Or maybe he took it with him. Who knows.” “I want a birth chart,” Alexander said, vaguely interested. “When I was really young, there was a really old lady on the island who made money making birth charts and doing tarot and telling fortunes, things like that. I always wanted one, but when my dad was still around, he always made fun of her. And so I felt silly asking for one. I think she was blind in one eye. Kind of makes it more impressive, really.” “I’ve sort of always been interested in divination, too. Hypocritical how the religious numbskulls that raised me write this stuff off as complete garbage but still believe some big warlock in the sky controls everything.” “Well...there’s more to it than that,” Alexander replied, more than a little defensively.Aaron looked up for a moment, eyes darkening, “You don’t need to lecture me on religion, Hamilton.” Alexander decided not to press the matter, and instead paid attention to the open book, “What does it say about birth charts?” “Looks like there’s a whole lot of math involved in this.” Aaron’s face fell as he realized how involved it was, “Not as fun as Great Uncle Stephen made it out to be. I thought it’d be more mystical and spooky than this...this just looks like a lot of work.” “One time I made everyone in my village go on lockdown because I said I saw a ghost.” Aaron closed the book, and looked at his guest, laughing again, “I’d love to hear that story.”“We have all weekend,” Alexander returned the smile. Suddenly, Aaron looked like he remembered something important, “Laundry! I can’t believe I forgot to show you where it is!” He lifted himself off the dusty bookshelf and beckoned for Alexander to follow him again, down the hall and back down the stairs.  **** “Most of these people are alright. I know them from university.” The muted hum of the Prius was the only sound for several minutes, as Jemmy stared out the window, counting tree after tree in the dying wilderness of the Virginia autumn. Why someone would choose to be so isolated, Jemmy couldn’t tell, but he was pleased that Thomas had invited him to come along to the party, regardless. “The University likes to host events over holiday breaks, for those of us who don’t celebrate them,” Thomas continued, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to a beat inside his head, “Thanksgiving is just not a holiday that I feel is necessary. What is the point, do you think?” Jemmy looked up, aware that Thomas was asking him a question and not just speaking rhetorically. “Oh, Thanksgiving?” Jemmy chuckled, “I don’t know. I don’t really care either way. Simply an excuse for families to get together and enjoy each other’s company, I reckon.” “I choose not to celebrate these holidays. I do not like the excess of it,” Thomas nodded to himself, “Which is why I spoke with the dean of the anthropology department and asked him to allow us usage of the University over break, for gatherings like the one I’m taking you to tonight. Lots of like-minded people. You’ll see. You might even meet someone.” Jemmy perked up slightly, turning red, slowly becoming aware that he was the designated bachelor, no matter what group he chose to hang out with. “I’m not counting on it, to tell you the truth. I’m thinking about swearing off women, at least until I’m settled.” Thomas took a left turn without using a blinker. “It won’t be so bad,” Jemmy lied, “I can occupy myself. Actually, it might be better that I don’t have any distractions.” “I can’t wait for you to meet Martha,” Thomas went on, still thinking about the approaching party. “She’s…” Jemmy looked at his friend, who had turned a blotchy shade of pink. “…Well, you’ll meet her. She’s so kind, she’ll introduce you to all sorts of people. She’ll make you feel right at home. It’s one of her best traits.” Thomas nodded again, still half lost in a thought, and pulled into a parking lot. William and Mary was an old school, and the architecture reflected it. Jemmy liked how serene everything looked– clean cut and well manicured—and wondered if Jefferson had chosen this school simply because of how bucolic it was. He would have liked to have chosen the adjective “regal” to describe the red brick buildings and centuries-old trees providing shade to the pristine walk-ways, but knew that Thomas wouldn’t have liked that. He kept his silence as the two figures made their way into one of the buildings. “So what should I expect?” Jemmy asked quietly, turning down a hallway and struggling to keep pace with his much taller friend. “Oh, I’m sure the usual crowd will be here. You will have to meet James Monroe. You will like him. I just hope he didn’t bring his roommate.” “His roommate?” Jemmy felt like a child, getting out of breath and asking question after question. “My cousin John. He’s an argumentative know-it-all. James can’t stand him. I don’t know why he doesn’t request a new roommate,” Thomas laughed, “Ah, wait, yes I do. It’s because John will fight it with every breath in his body simply to start an argument.” “Are you sure it isn’t just family rivalry that makes you hate him?” “My cousin is a smart man, but irritating.” Thomas paused briefly before opening another door, and turned his abstract gaze in the direction of the shorter man, “Do keep in mind that this stays between us, Jemmy.” “Oh, of course.” Thomas held up a long-fingered hand, “And don’t let James know we’ve been chatting about him.” Jemmy furrowed his eyebrows, mildly confused, and nodded. Once inside the small room they were greeted by polite nods and friendly smiles. Jemmy adjusted his eyes to the dim lighting and followed Thomas as he walked towards a small group of people. “Is there a lecture or something?” Jemmy asked, craning his neck and looking around at the college students milling about. “There’s supposed to be. It’s about the environment and raising awareness. An email was sent out earlier to all students involved, letting them know that the speaker had a sore throat and may not make it. But that they’d try to get a back up speaker just in case. I don’t see him, however.” The small group of people greeted Thomas warmly, and he beckoned for Jemmy to step closer. “This is my good friend James Madison,” he began in a quiet voice; the students nodded. “I go by Jemmy off the record,” he piped up, trying for humor and letting a nervous laugh escape him. “I invited him to come stay with me for the break, and to take a look around the University, and thought he might enjoy himself here tonight.” A tall male student with well-styled, thick hair and piercing blue eyes answered, “I don’t think your speaker is going to show up tonight, though. It’s already seven-thirty and he was supposed to be here by quarter til. Didn’t you say you had a backup plan?” Thomas turned pink again as all eyes in the small group turned to him, “I delegated that task to someone else who apparently didn’t do it.” The other tall student introduced himself as James Monroe, and Jemmy smiled politely. “I’d get up there and talk about the environment,” he muttered to Jemmy later, “But I’d have no idea what to talk about. Nature is Thomas’ thing. I’m a law student, like you.” As the minutes dragged on, Thomas walked his new friend around the room, cheekily introducing him as “his agent up in Princeton”. Jemmy felt more and more relaxed and found himself with a drink in his hand: a red plastic solo cup, he noticed, somewhat tickled. Soon, he was seated at a table with the easy-going James and a handsome but scowling man who looked awkwardly out of place. After brief introductions and an uncomfortable silence, Thomas left his new friend to find Martha. “You know, you don’t have to look so pissed off all the time,” James turned his head to look at his roommate, who sat idly scrolling through his phone. “I told you I didn’t want to come. You made up some horse shit about extra credit,” John Marshall raised his heavy black gaze, not amused. “So leave,” James replied, “No one wants you here if you’re going to piss and moan all night.” John darkened his phone, frustrated. “I’m not ‘pissing and moaning’, Monroe. I can’t leave. I can’t leave because I can’t get back into the dorm, because you have the keys.” At this, James laughed, “Oh yeah!” Jemmy looked confused until James explained gleefully, “I told him he had to come to this meeting to try and support Thomas. They’re cousins, you know? They should try and get along. John refused until I tricked him into thinking it was for extra credit, and took the keys and now he’s locked out of the dorm until I go back.” “It’s not funny, it’s childish. I have a lot of things I need to do.” “‘Things’ you need to ‘do’? Like your ugly girlfriend?” Jemmy tried to stifle his laughter, while John’s countenance darkened, “Are you reading my texts again? Jesus Christ, Monroe, get a fucking life.” James straightened up, amused, “Oh, okay. If you’re just going to leave your phone unlocked where everyone can see it, what do you expect is going to happen?” John slammed a fist against the table, “James, I swear to God. It’s not funny, it's an invasion of privacy.” He turned his attention towards Jemmy, who followed the argument with rapt interest. He spoke, “Do you see how insane he is? He thinks it’s funny. He’s sick in the head.” “Well, I mean,” Jemmy reasoned, still trying to hide his laughter, “It was kind of silly of you to leave your cell phone out in the open like that if you didn't want anyone snooping.” “It’s not my fault for making a human error in leaving my cell phone exposed. It’s James’ fault for proactively being a shitty person and picking it up to read. His crime was avoidable, mine was not.”“Oh Jesus, here we go,” James put his head in his hands. “No, not ‘here we go’,” John pressed on, finding his steam and raising a finger, “Not ‘here we go’. This is an invasion of privacy. With the intent to humiliate.” “He’s a law student, too, can’t you tell by all the serious phrases he uses?” James locked eyes with Jemmy, who began to feel comfortably at home. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I bother.” The square-jawed Marshall shook his head, sensing defeat. He paused for a moment, then spoke up again. “Yes, James. You figured it out. I was hoping to spend the night with my girlfriend instead of sitting around congratulating my cousin and his idiot friends. You have uncovered a shock to the sensibilities of mankind that will reverberate through the ages. Congratulations. Do you want me to tell Thomas about it so he can give you little ass-pats and make you his T.A. so you can finally quit your job at Chipotle?” “I don’t need ‘ass-pats’ from Thomas, he already told me he’d help me find a job after I graduate, and really, it just sounds like you’re jealous.” Jemmy reached for an unopened bottle of water and resumed watching the argument. John stood up, losing his cool. He shot a look at his roommate and responded coldly, “I would rather eat a turd than work with that granola-assed, self-obsessed Thoreau wannabe.” James Monroe watched him storm off, and shook his head, “Can’t stand him. None of us can.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Jemmy muttered, feeling rather bad for the other student, “He seemed alright. I mean, you did embarrass him pretty badly.” “You don’t understand,” James placed both hands on the table, and prepared to defend himself, “He does nothing but pick fights with all of us. Me, Thomas, even Martha, when she’s around. That’s Thomas’ girlfriend, if you didn’t know. Anyway, he’s so different from all of us that he just makes things awkward. I’ll never forget the time he and Thomas argued for three hours about whether or not corporations should count as people.” Jemmy sputtered, “Three hours?” “Yes. I’m not exaggerating. Towards the end it got really personal and Thomas threatened to go to the dean with some information about John plagiarizing case briefs for his constitutional law class.” “What?” “Right hand to Jesus,” James raised his right hand solemnly, his slight southern drawl appearing intermittently, “I don’t know if it’s true, to be honest. About the plagiarism. But Thomas can’t stand him.” Jemmy listened intently as James continued to spill the details of the cousins’ ugly rivalry. “Thomas is like the leader of our crew, I guess. Probably because he’s the oldest, I don’t know. Anyway, I admire the guy and agree with him on a lot of issues, you know, politically. But John thinks I’m being a suck-up so Thomas will get me a good position at the university one day, because he’s so involved and all the professors love him.” “Is that true?” James shrugged casually, “If it was, can you blame me?” “I guess not…” Jemmy answered, his voice trailing off as the crowd of students around him milled about, their voices and conversations ebbing and flowing. He checked his watch and noticed it was nearly eight, “I thought there was a speaker?” “So did everyone else. I guess he’s not going to show up.” “Who was it supposed to be?” “Some CEO. His name's Washington. Lives over in the mountains. I think he’s a land surveyor, too. And an ex-military guy.” James frowned, then continued, “Thomas thought he had a ‘good perspective’ about government intervention in large scale farming, but I think he just wanted to make it look like he was presenting both sides of the issue.” “Thomas doesn’t care for this Washington guy?” “Well…” James leaned back in his chair, chuckled to himself for a moment, shook his head, and then, “It’s a long story.” “I’ve got time.” James’ expression brightened, realizing he had a captive audience. He dove into the story, “A couple years back, some journalism major named Callender published an article about Thomas that attacked him and called him a fraud. At this point, Thomas was trying to get established in the environmentalist community. It was this shitty, Buzzfeed-level blog, you know, nothing too crazy, but Thomas still got really offended. And so he called me up and asked me to investigate this Callender student to see what he knew.” Jemmy nodded slowly, waiting for more. James grabbed his own water and took a long gulp. “It was nothing, honestly, just some cynical journalism major at a low-tier state school with a bone to pick with academia. And Thomas happened to be publishing something at the wrong moment. But Thomas was really embarrassed. And so he started trying to make friends with a more eclectic group of people, to make it look like he was more bipartisan in his views.” “But what was the article about?” Jemmy shifted his weight in his chair, interested. In the corner, he saw Thomas with a lanky arm draped around a pretty brunette, who he assumed was Martha, and slowly found himself becoming more and more fascinated with the complex graduate students. “I can’t remember exactly. Solar panels being used on farms, for large-scale farming, I think. This Washington guy read the article and liked the idea and so Thomas asked him to come speak tonight and defend him. Well, implicitly defend him. Having a big-shot like Washington on his side will make Callender’s claims look pretty stupid.” “I guess it’s pretty bad that Washington didn’t show up, then,” Jemmy reasoned. James laughed sharply. “Bad, yeah. But I’m not surprised. The idiot probably forgot.”Jemmy recoiled at James' abrupt insult, but was prevented from asking further questions as Thomas approached with his girlfriend. She introduced herself and sat down next to James, nodding to Jemmy politely. Thomas wore a look of pained, veiled embarrassment on his face while James continued to prattle on happily.Many thoughts coursed through little Jemmy’s mind as he lay in Thomas’ guest bedroom that night, tossing and turning, wishing he could simply take a pill and get to sleep. He ran over the events of the evening, not sure whether he’d made new friends or they were just pretending to be nice, and tried to block out the noises he thought he heard from the bedroom next door. Monroe had seemed the most friendly, Jemmy reasoned. He liked the way the other student let his thoughts spill forth, unguarded and simplistic. He had an easy laugh, a bright and kind countenance, and gave off the air of harmless playfulness. In fact, pondered Jemmy, he seemed to be, in every respect, the social opposite of Aaron Burr. Jemmy recalled an interaction of the night, in which Thomas noticed how friendly the two students were getting. “You could turn that one inside out,” Thomas whispered, indicating towards Monroe, “And there wouldn’t be a stain of ugliness on him. Just a decent, good human. Right to the core.” Jemmy smiled in the dark, but was interrupted by a loud moan from the adjoining room. He blushed, and turned over on his side. He toyed with the idea of just staying in his home state of Virginia for good-- dropping his old life with no warning. The reckless thought tantalized him. He tried to remember why he’d left the state in the first place. He was so young, and his reasoning so immature—“I’m ready to see the world, I don’t want to be stuck here forever. The weather is atrocious.” Shaking his head “no” and covering his eyes in slight embarrassment, Jemmy realized how idealized he’d made everything seem, and wondered why no one stopped him. He was, at his core, a southerner, and perhaps that was why he never fit in with the bitter, self-interested New Yorkers.“And now you’re starting to sound like Thomas,” he whispered to himself. More loud, rhythmic squeaks of a bed spring, and a woman's pleading voice, and Jemmy wished he’d brought ear plugs. What was his roommate doing for the break? Jemmy tried to keep his mind occupied, hoping the mundane would lull him to sleep. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall Aaron ever having a loyal group of friends. He thought about Alexander, most likely staying on campus, occupying his own mind with writing. Jemmy came to the conclusion that it wasn’t the northern weather that was toxic, but rather the people he surrounded himself with. “I shouldn’t write them off so easily.” Jemmy felt guilty, and torn in half. A girl screamed Thomas’ name, and Jemmy sighed angrily. He grabbed a pillow and covered his head. He liked Martha, too, and liked watching the young, friendly couple together, but-- Jemmy knew it wasn’t his place to dictate what the lanky Virginian did with his time, and with whom, but really.  It was at night when all the thoughts came to him, all the different things he promised he’d be to different people, and the guilt that told him he couldn’t be everything to everyone burned a nauseous pit in his stomach. He remembered the essays he said he’d write, with Alexander,  and cringed. He wanted to, certainly he had an interest in it, but why did he feel so restless? Something gnawed at him. Had Alexander bothered to text or call him in the two days since their Thanksgiving break had started? “No.” Did Alexander show any sort of sympathy about putting Jemmy in a hard place, making him choose between Aaron and himself? “Nope, not really.” Jemmy crossed his arms over his chest. Why should he help Alexander, when all he felt told him that the student from Columbia was using him? He never felt that way with Thomas, James hadn’t given off any self-interested vibes. Even the scowling, insulted Marshall seemed more genuine than the insecure New Yorkers. The moaning from the next room reached a crescendo, and Jemmy cleared his throat and coughed loudly, hoping to remind the couple that the walls were thin. “God bless,” he muttered, clutching the pillow tighter around his ears. He tried to view things through a neutral lens, and wondered if there even was such a thing. He made it a point to bring it up with Thomas, tomorrow.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Aaron kicked the washing machine, one hand holding an open bottle of beer, the other running fingers through his hair. “I am too drunk for this.” “We can wait until tomorrow,” Alexander responded, feeling sillier with each sip from his own drink. He shivered once, still chilled from their brief walk to the nearby convenience store to pick up more alcohol, and watched as Aaron pleaded with the inanimate object. “Please, Heavenly father,” Aaron began solemnly, bowing his head and placing his right palm on top of the appliance, “Let this washing machine be cleansed of its demons, accept Jesus, and this load of laundry I just shoved inside of it—“ “—Oh my god, is it plugged in?” Alexander put his drink down on a nearby end table in the hallway and dropped to his knees, searching behind the appliance on the wall, “It’s not even plugged in, you idiot—“ “—In Christ’s name, Amen,” Aaron raised his gaze to the heavens and laughed as he felt the washing machine jolt and turn on, “Do you see, my dear Mr. Hamilton? The power of prayer.” “Don’t even go there,” Alexander replied, “Jesus had nothing to do with plugging in a common household appliance.” Aaron pointed a finger, “There you go again, getting all secular on me. Don’t be surprised when the rapture comes and you’re not invited.” “You’re not even making sense anymore.” “We’ve been drinking for four hours, what do you expect?” Alexander found this inexplicably funny and collapsed into a fit of laughter again, clutching his stomach and bending at the waist, “We should have bought more food. It’s so bad to drink on an empty stomach.” “God, did you really invite yourself over to my beach house for four days?” Aaron replied, his cheeks bright with mirth, “What was I thinking, letting you do a thing like that? Pushy little freak.” The washing machine shook again and gurgled loudly. Alexander grabbed his drink and made his way towards the stairs. He raised a hand up, and called back playfully, “You owe me this one, buddy. We have a lot to discuss.” His voice trailed off as he made his way down the stairs, Aaron followed him. Once in the living room again, the pair seated themselves across from each other on the sectional, drinks in hand. For a few seconds, the only noise was the rumbling of the washing machine upstairs. Aaron exhaled, “Alright. I’ve been putting it off for long enough. We’re gonna work through it this weekend if it kills me.” Alexander looked up, faintly alarmed, “Work through...what, now?” “The whole rumor about you and that Laurens kid started with me,” Aaron’s easy smile disappeared, and he looked out the window, “I was just hanging out with Jemmy one day, shooting the breeze, and it came out. I told him about how...you two were dating, and his dad was against it and sent him off-- it was seriously none of my business...” Alexander felt the old familiar lump in his throat, and stared dolefully into his bottle. “...And I guess for that I owe you another apology,” Aaron finished, quietly.Alexander rubbed his eyes, exhaling. "That's...not too far off from the truth, actually.""I was mad at you," Aaron admitted. "Why?"Aaron recalled one of the few times he tried to reach out to his fellow student, "I congratulated you for an article you wrote about a prospective nonprofit you were going to start with him and you freaked. It totally out of the blue. Granted, so was my text message, but--"“This whole fight is so stupid,” Alexander cut him off, "So fucking stupid. Why should I care who Jemmy hangs out with? Why should I care what people say about me? What difference does it make?” “Are you talking to me or is this rhetorical?” “I mean, I’m an adult,” Alexander stood up, walked to the kitchen, and grabbed another drink. Aaron watched him intently as he began pacing, “I’ve had relationships that work, and I’ve had relationships that ended badly. It’s part of life.” “All true,” Aaron nodded from the couch, resting his chin on the back cushion. “I mean you,” Alexander lifted a hand, grinning at nothing, “You don’t give a shit about your family, you don’t give a shit about your grades, you try and turn my friend against me, you sleep around and break hearts, and yet, and yet—“ “—Is this actually going anywhere?” Aaron called again, swallowing another sip of beer and chuckling, “I wouldn’t have put things so brusquely but I guess I can’t argue with your assessment.” “You know what?” “What.” Alexander placed a hand flat against the ice cold granite countertop, “I would like to apologize, too. Right here. While I’m drunk enough to make sense of it.” “Now how many does that make? Five? Six? Does this even count as a truce if we’re both too drunk to think?” Aaron replied playfully. Alexander smiled to himself and closed his eyes, remembering vividly the afternoon in the apartment with Bobby, and everything he’d said after his unsuccessful meeting with Jemmy. He nodded as the thoughts filled his mind, ran through them, prepared to speak again. “It will count as a truce if we are both one-hundred percent honest with each other. And I mean one-hundred percent.” Alexander opened his eyes and looked at the other boy.“I swear on the future grave of Great Uncle Stephen, I will be one-hundred percent truthful,” Aaron raised his right hand. “But, I have one caveat.” “Oh of course you do,” Alexander grumbled, fidgeting for several drunken seconds with a bottle opener, before popping the top off the bottle and sending it clattering to the floor.Aaron’s voice carried over the counter while Alexander bent down to pick it up, “Nothing that is said here ever leaves this house. No matter how innocuous, no matter how harmless or silly. Everything said tonight will be kept in strictest confidence.” Alexander popped back up and regarded Aaron for a moment, narrowing his eyes. He slowly made his way back to the couch, processing the request. “I think…I think that’s fair,” Alexander concluded, running a hand through his hair and sitting, tucking his legs beneath him, “Since you already went, I suppose it’s my turn.” “It is indeed. Let me take another sip, I may need it,” Aaron held up a finger and lifted the bottle to his lips.  Alexander grinned at him, then, candid and breathless, “I did confess to Bobby that I thought you were strange and untrustworthy.” Aaron raised his eyebrows knowingly and swallowed while Alexander surged forward. “He actually stood up for you, but I disagreed with him. I just…I just don’t like the way you treat people. I think you are arrogant and selfish. There.” For another minute, Aaron held his silence and let the words sink in while his guest peeled the label off his beer. The sounds of the waves hit the living room in rhythmic increments and flashes of lightning in the distance crept over the dark, churning water. “Wow,” Aaron finally replied. “Well. I…thank you for being honest.” “I can’t help what I feel.” “No I understand that, but I just—“ “—I guess the best thing for everyone would be for you to prove me wrong,” Alexander continued, suddenly unable to make eye contact, cheeks blooming with color. Several pieces of torn paper fell into his lap, “But, I shouldn’t have said what I did to Bobby and Jemmy. I was just…reacting.” “I think you act too rashly, and too quickly, and I think you are outrageously rude. And a bully.” Alexander looked up, offended, and Aaron held up a finger, “Ah, ah--Remember our stipulations. This is an airing of grievances.” “I know, but I’m not rude, I’m just passionate—“ “—I’m going to tell you what Bobby won’t tell you, because he’s too nice,” Aaron finished his beer and smiled, “You are a rude little boy.” Alexander shook his head, and looked back at his peeling label, “You don’t have to be so goddamn condescending all the time. It’s when you say things like that, ‘rude little boy’. I’m not a child, Burr. Stop talking to me like one.” Another flash of lightning outside, and Aaron bit his tongue in embarrassment, “I don’t mean it to be a personal insult to you. That’s just how I talk.” Alexander shrugged, “I don’t like it.” “Well how about this,” Aaron placed his beer on the coffee table, and clasped his hands, “I promise not to use condescending epithets if you promise to think before you react. We’ll meet in the middle.” Finally Alexander raised his bleary gaze, squinting, “Still sounds like you got off easier.” Aaron lowered his voice, leaning in, “We will both be getting off, Hamilton.” Alexander made a noise, “See? That’s what I mean. I told Bobby you were a pervert. And you are. Here’s something for you to think about: maybe you make so many sexual innuendos because you’re actually starved and desperate. That's usually how it goes, anyway.” “—Me? Starved? Please, I’ve slept with tons of people,” Aaron reasoned, counting off on his fingers, “Probably, like, hundreds. More than you.” “Quality, not quantity. And even still, you’re probably lying,” Alexander smirked. Before Aaron could respond, a loud and sudden clap of thunder shook the house, causing Alexander to drop his drink and swear. “What the hell was that? Was that thunder?” Alexander felt dizzy as he shot up from his seat, his adrenaline pumping, “Was that a storm?” “Yeah, probably. We get a lot of them around here this time of year, being so close to the ocean—“ “—Oh. Oh, okay. Okay,” Alexander closed his eyes and breathed deeply as another bout of thunder rolled through the empty house.“Are you alright?” Aaron inched closer, watching as his guest inhaled and exhaled, deeper and heavier each time. “I…I think I’m going to be ok, I just have to--”Another clap of thunder interrupted him, and the rain began. Several flashes of lightning lit the trees closest to the house, swaying dangerously in the strong gusts of wind. Aaron tilted his head, and reached down to pick up pieces of the bottle from the floor. He watched as Alexander opened his eyes. “How bad will it get?” He spoke in a tiny voice, one Aaron had never heard before, as he continued staring in confusion. “I don’t know. It might last all night. Because it’s autumn, the hot and cold air kind of…I don’t know. Mix together. And we get these oceanic storms rolling through--”“—I’m sorry. I’ll be okay,” Alexander explained, “It just...caught me off-guard. When I was little, there was this massive hurricane that came through and destroyed everything. It tore through my house, and all I could hear were people screaming and trees snapping in half, and I--” In another second, lightning struck, and the power shut down. Alexander swore loudly. “Shit. I can’t believe this. There’s got to be a fuse box somewhere,” Aaron stood up, “In the meantime, I think we should find some candles. Are you sure you’ll be alright?” “I think I’m having a panic attack right now.” “Excellent. You just sit there and breathe like a woman giving birth and I’ll go stumble around in the dark lighting candles.” “This isn’t funny, Burr,” Alexander shot back. He shuddered as another rolling gust of wind and thunder boomed around him. “Here we go, I found some,” Aaron reappeared after a few minutes, and set down four large candles, “Great Uncle Stephen to the rescue.” The sound of a match striking against a box, a bright orange glow, and the candles were illuminated: two Sacred Heart of Jesus candles now decorated the coffee table beside them, and one displaying Our Lady of Guadalupe lit Aaron’s smiling face.In between his shuddered breaths and racing heart, Alexander chuckled, “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Are those the ones they sell–” “—In the grocery store and at flea markets? Yes. Those are the ones.” Aaron set the last candle on the side table behind him. He sat back, their small section of couch bathed in orange light. The loudest crash of thunder yet made Alexander swear again, and to his dismay, the old beach house rocked in the wind. “How stable is this house? I mean, how many storms has it seen?” “A ton, Alexander. We’ll be fine.” Alexander kept his eyes closed and put his head down. Aaron watched him, both nervous and amused. Alexander spoke again, sitting back up, “Feel my heart. Does it feel erratic to you?” “Are you— Are you serious? I’m not a doctor.” “Just do it.” Alexander grabbed Aaron’s wrist again and pressed his hand against his chest. He opened his eyes and Aaron looked uneasily into dilated pupils. “It feels regular. Can I have my hand back?” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” Alexander dropped Aaron’s wrist and leaned back onto the couch, and Aaron watched as his chest rose and fell in a frightened rhythm. The flames from the candles danced off Alexander’s rumpled clothes and erratic hair, and a dull, nagging hook in the pit of his stomach tugged at him.“You’re right. I’ll be ok. It just caught me off guard. I didn’t know there’d be a storm,” Alexander reasoned again, unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt, fanning it. Aaron cleared his throat, studied the floor, “Will you be alright to sleep tonight?” Slowly, Alexander sat up straight, and reached into his back pocket. Pulling out a flat leather wallet, he nodded, yes. “I knew it was a good idea to bring these,” he pulled out several loose white pills, and Aaron looked on, interestedly. “You keep drugs in your wallet. Interesting.” “They’re prescription sleeping pills, smartass,” Alexander gave him another look, sharp features made more handsome in the crimson light of the candle flames. He went on, “I thought I should bring some sleeping aid in case you decided to throw wild parties and bring back girls to screw.” “Uh huh.” Alexander pretended not to hear him, “I have trouble sleeping in strange places. So I came prepared. These will help me relax enough to get a good night’s rest.” “Are you sure you should be taking those after drinking so much?” Aaron reasoned. Alexander stopped mid movement, and closed his mouth.“Shit. You’re right,” he answered, breaths still labored. He looked at Aaron helplessly, “More alcohol?” Aaron nodded, rose up from the couch, and grabbed two more beers. Another bolt of lightning, accompanied by a clap of thunder, made Alexander jolt in his seat once again. Aaron sat down, handed him the drink, and put his arm around him, matter-of-factly. “This house has been through, oh, I don’t know. Hundreds of thunderstorms. Probably thousands. And hurricanes, too. I promise you, it’s not going anywhere. Great Uncle Stephen paid for quality. You wouldn’t want to insult Great Uncle Stephen by questioning his house buying ability, would you?” “Certainly not,” Alexander replied, slowly reclaiming a normal breathing pace. Aaron’s arm lingered around him for a minute more, both silently sipping their drinks, and then he took it back. He reclined into a more comfortable position and watched the storm dissipate outside the massive windows. “Looks like it’s just going to blow over, I suppose. Figures we’d get a tiny little storm and still lose power anyway.” Alexander didn’t answer. He let the alcohol course through his veins, dizzy and lightheaded, heart still beating too quickly to be called normal.  **** Alexander woke up with half of his face hanging off the edge of a bed, pink sheets by his mouth slightly covered in drool, and seagulls screaming obnoxiously outside his window. He sat up with a start, squinted at the clock on the nightstand—“Ten forty-six?”—and looked around him. It was a woman’s bedroom, drenched in garish floral patterns. “What the hell…” Alexander tried to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, wondering how he managed to make it upstairs, and his head pounded with a hangover. He clutched his hair between both hands and waited until the dizziness stopped. When it finally did, he stood up and steadied himself again. Downstairs, he could hear someone rattling around in the kitchen. “I thought you were dead.” Aaron greeted him, already dressed, and, it appeared, showered. “What time did you get up?” Alexander ran a hand through his matted, messy hair and threw himself into a bar stool, putting his head down on the counter. “Eight, I think. Do you want anything to eat?” “God, please, no. Just coffee. And water, if you don’t mind.” Alexander’s voice was muffled; he felt faint. “Are you going to be alright?” “Probably. Just a hangover.” Alexander waited for a moment, and then, “What time did we go to bed? And how the hell did I get upstairs? I don’t remember going upstairs.” Aaron laughed, “Do you remember having a panic attack?” Alexander looked up and Aaron inclined his head towards the tacky religious candles, still on the coffee table. Alexander grinned. “Oh, Jesus. Yeah. Yes. Sort of. I didn’t take any sleeping pills, did I?” He fixed his tired gaze onto Aaron, who shook his head. “No. I stopped you. I saved your life. You owe me big time.” Alexander put his head down again, “Just bring me my coffee. I can’t process any of this right now.” Aaron acquiesced, and sat down next to his guest. For a moment, the only sound was the crashing waves, and the intermittent slurps of hot coffee. “Did I...um…” Aaron began, his own headache only slightly ebbing with the influx of caffeine, “… Did I apologize, last night?” “Yes. Yes you did,” Alexander smiled to himself, sipping, feeling like he’d made progress. Something heavy and immaterial lifted off his chest, and he went on, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my panic attacks. I figured I had them under control. I used to go to therapy, but stopped. I don’t know why. Whatever. In any case, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” To Alexander’s pleasant surprise, Aaron nudged him playfully. “We’re just lucky they decided to fix the power in time for me to brew coffee.” He stared into his drink, made nearly white with all the cream and sugar he used. “Alright. All the apologies are on the table,” Alexander laid a palm on the counter, “I think this is going well.” “Cathartic.” “Now what exactly are the plans for the day?” He inquired, sipping his coffee, jet black and strong. Aaron bit his lip in thought, “I hadn’t really made any, to be honest. It’s Thanksgiving, you know.” A jolt of some unnamed emotion hit Alexander, and he responded lamely, “Oh. Happy Holidays, then.” “We could prepare dinner,” Aaron could barely keep the laughter from his voice, and he snorted into his cup, “Last Thanksgiving, my cousin and I just stayed at the University and ordered a pizza and watched shitty movies in my room all night. Jemmy wasn’t there, don’t know where he’d gone off to. But it was pretty fun.” “Which cousin?” “Matt. He’s like…my best friend, too, you could say. He’s a relation on my Aunt’s side. Technically I guess he’s a...step-uncle? But we’re the same age, so—“ Alexander furrowed his eyebrows and tried to place a memory. “Was he with you that night, at the bar—“ “—Oh, that night. When we were on the roof. Yeah, that was him. You called him Big Bird,” Aaron collapsed into laughter again, while Alexander stewed in further embarrassment. Aaron changed the subject. “Do you want to see the ocean?” Alexander raised his eyebrows and blinked, a half-grin forming on his mouth, “The ocean?” “I mean, okay, I know you’ve probably seen enough of the ocean to last a lifetime, but…It’s really pretty this late in the season. And there aren’t any annoying tourists dicking around.” Aaron waited while his guest toyed with the idea. He studied him, continued his pitch, “The fresh air will help with your headache, I promise.” Alexander nodded, his own thoughts ebbing and flowing inside his brain too rapidly to make sense. It was grey, cold and damp as the pair of them walked silently towards the rocky beach, the sound of the waves crashing getting louder and louder. Thankfully, too, thought Aaron, looking at nearly everything else around him rather than his guest, because the silence was almost too overwhelming to bear. He sidestepped a particularly large sea shell and kicked another out of the way, shoes covered in sand. “All oceans are different,” Alexander finally broke the silence, gesturing, “No two beaches are exactly the same. People have this idea that all sand is basically just sand, all the seashells and rocks look the same at every beach, all waves pretty much crash the same, but it’s not true.” He searched around for a nice place to sit, relatively dry, and sighed as his body hit the earth. Aaron watched him for a moment. “You don’t want to go for a walk? You just want to sit here?” He half-smiled. “To be honest, I’m not big on exercising,” Alexander picked up a tiny piece of driftwood, and drew a line in the sand, “Besides, I’m still feeling a little dizzy from the hangover.” Aaron situated himself next to Alexander, “Fair enough, I guess.” “New England beaches are so different. Even the sand is coarser.” Alexander tried to steer the conversation into different waters. “Caribbean beaches are much more beautiful.” Aaron muttered.“They are beautiful, but a different sort of beauty. To me, I can’t associate the Islands with anything other than poverty. But I know they’re supposed to be paradise. People travel from all over the world to come visit, to escape,” He picked up a handful of sand, and then let it slip through his fingers, “It really is strange how that works, you know?” Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, “How what works?” “You can put a human being in—literally–-one of the most beautiful places on earth, and there will still be misery and suffering. It’s inescapable.” “But you were poor. If you had money—“ “ —You had money,” Alexander cut him off smartly, and Aaron quieted. “All I’m saying is, if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that mankind is just bound and determined to be sad. It’s inescapable.” “But there are more variables to it than that,” Aaron responded, watching as a piece of sea weed struggled to break free from the current. “There are the people you surround yourself with, your physical and mental health, your level of learning—“ “—But all those things are man-made, and man-controlled. Being restless and dissatisfied are precursors to those things, which mankind engages in in order to better himself. Because he feels sad.” “Or just curious. You could say curiosity is another one of those organic traits, that inspires betterment.” “Exactly. He’s curious to better himself. Implying his current situation is worse than the one he wants to attain,” Alexander grinned, sharpening his argument. Aaron grew quiet as he digested the words. Alexander looked to the horizon and marveled at how, on a foggy day, the sky and the water were indiscernible. Aaron shook his head, “For all the bullshit that’s happened to me, I still can’t believe the world is that dark. It just feels too hopeless.” Alexander’s grin faded slightly, and he stole a glance at the other boy, “Do you know anyone who is really, truly happy with themselves and their lot in life?” Aaron shrugged. “There’s a reason why the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ is so prevalent. It’s because it’s true.” Alexander kept his gaze sternly on the boy at his side, “The more you learn about your world and your place in life, the darker everything appears. The more helpless you feel. You can whistle in the dark all you want. But this world will break you.” Aaron let out a low, nervous chuckle, “How did this conversation get so dark?” Alexander offered a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, “Sorry. I get carried away. I didn’t mean to bring you down. It’s something that’s fascinated me for a long time, the human condition.” “Tell me more about your childhood.” Aaron’s demand caught Alexander off guard, and he looked over, “...Really?” “I guess we’re friends now, right? I want to know.” Aaron picked up a particularly beautiful, opalescent sea shell, and handed it to Alexander.“If you insist, but I think I’ve blocked most of it out,” Alexander kept his smile, but grew misty eyed. “There’s not much to say. We were poor. My mom had a little convenience store, and we lived upstairs.” Alexander thought for a moment, wondering how, exactly, he could make Aaron see the tears in the wallpaper, the cracks in the wall, the stains on the floorboards. Or make him smell the mildew and cigarette smoke—make him see Rachel chain-smoking, wrinkles already forming around her young face—and make him feel the suffocating heat that she swore would eventually kill her, year after year. His father’s cruel tirades. You eat too much. You’re too demanding. You’re not even supposed to be here, did you know that? We wanted to abort you, you know. Went all the way to the clinic, but didn’t have enough money. And now you’re demanding more food? Be thankful you were even born, Alex. Aaron noticed his friend grow silent, “Alexander? You still in there?” “Yes. I’m fine, just thinking.” For reasons unknown to him, Alexander’s pulse began to race. “My father was…a difficult man to live with. He tried his best, I think, to provide for us. But they were junkies. What could they do?”“What was your life like?” Alexander laughed mirthlessly, picking up a handful of sand and letting it filter through his fingers, “Looking back, it’s clear that my parents should have gotten help. But when you’re a kid, you don’t pick up on those things. You just think, ‘this is the way it’s supposed to be. Everyone’s family is like this.’ But eventually you pick up on the nuances around you. You start to compare yourself to other people, and you realize that some people just have it better than others.” The pang of guilt hit Alexander, and he quickly added, “If my father's still alive, if I’m ever able to find him, I’d eventually like to help him. But I doubt it.” Aaron thought for a moment, and then spoke up, quietly, “You know, that’s really selfless of you, Alexander.” Alexander blushed and looked away. “He is my father, despite the circumstances. He’s the reason I’m here. If my mother was still around, I’d help her, too. It’s only right.”A large ball of emotion lodged itself in his chest at the thought of his mother. “Aaron?” Aaron looked up, being addressed directly, “Yes?” “You have to swear to God you will never share this with another soul, do you understand? I’m only admitting this because you shared some things with me, and I think I can trust you.” “Absolutely.” Alexander took a deep breath, “I think my mother was a prostitute.” Aaron looked at the other boy, who stared mournfully at the ocean, and blinked several times, processing the information. He spoke again, “How sure are you?” “Eighty, eighty-five percent,” Alexander answered, tonelessly. “There were strange men around, occasionally. I don’t know if she did it only when she was desperate for money, or if my father made her do it, or if she made a career out of it, because like I said, I blocked most of this out. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Alexander's words froze up and it became harder for him to breathe. He tried not to imagine his mother, who had always been so effortlessly beautiful, selling her body in order to feed him. He thanked God that the sea-spray was especially misty, that he could blame his watering eyes on the gusty ocean air around him and not the leaden guilt that crushed his chest. Aaron sat silently next to him for a moment, before speaking again, “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, or that I’m being pretentious, but I have been toying with the idea of going into family law once I pass the bar exam…because stories like that one make me so angry, so disgusted with humanity, with this idea of beating down a woman until she’s lost all hope, I just can’t see myself taking on any other cases. Or, treating any other cases with as much delicacy.” Alexander exhaled and rubbed his eyes, wiping sand from his cheeks and out of his hair. He murmured, “I won’t tell you to fuck off. I’m sorry I made this conversation so heavy. I’ve never actually shared that with anyone. I think Knox knew but he said he wouldn’t tell a soul. And it’s just…” he lifted his gaze towards the heavens, speaking to no one, “Of course you want to go into family law. Of course you do.” Aaron didn’t think before he moved in closer, putting an arm around his shoulder again, as he’d done the night before. He spoke earnestly, “I don’t think any less of you, Hamilton. I don’t think you need anyone’s help. I’m sorry I called you a charity case. I was wrong.” Alexander felt himself slipping; hated being the one who needed comforting. It was that-- the needing-- the constant, gnawing desperation--needing patronage, needing acceptance, needing a place to stay and a place to do laundry, needing, needing, needing, all the time. He felt so small, like a leech, and wasn’t sure whether or not he needed to scream, or walk into the ocean, and just keep going until his need drowned him. “Alexander? Listen to me.” “Yeah.” Aaron gripped tighter, “I’m so sorry I said all those things. I was out of line. I was so mad at you for talking about me behind my back but…but the things I said were so much meaner. And I’m so sorry.” “It’s fine,” Alexander responded flatly, “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. Thank you for your apology.” A gust of wind shook them, spraying sand and ocean water everywhere, as the sky darkened. Aaron swore and covered his face, using his free hand to wipe the mess from his eyes. Alexander dug his shoes into the cold sand. “Did your uncle ever...I know you said you hate your family...” Alexander studied a collection of silver shells to his left and his question trailed off.Aaron caught on, unwrapping his arm and brushing it off, “Yeah. He got physical. A lot. That was all part of it. I can’t prove anything but I’m pretty sure I got the worst of it.”Alexander nodded silently. Aaron spoke again, after a beat and several pulling, rhythmic waves, “Do you want to try and...I don’t know. Buy a turkey? I don’t know what’s open but we can try. It could be fun to try and figure out this Thanksgiving thing, right?”Alexander turned to him and grinned, “I’m game if you are.” **** Jemmy sat at the kitchen table and looked around, wondering what Thomas had planned for what he called his Secular Eco-Friendly Vegan Harvest Celebration. James, who had invited himself over after the disappointing environmental awareness speech of the other evening, dug around inside the fridge for something to eat, bemoaning the fact that Thomas refused to buy lunch meat, “...Can I just get a damn bologna and mayonnaise sandwich?”“So you’re celebrating Thanksgiving by not celebrating Thanksgiving?” Jemmy asked politely. Thomas cleared his throat and took a sip of water. James’ head shot out of the fridge. Taking a bite out of an apple, he spoke up, pieces of fruit flying from his mouth, “That’s not what he said. His holiday just happens to be on the same day as Thanksgiving, they’re not the same thing. Anyone can make up a holiday.” “You will love it,” Thomas responded vaguely, “We can go to the co-op in town and pick up a few things, you can pick out anything you want, and later on I’ll invite over some people to help us cook it. It’s so much fun when people bond over good cooking. You’ll see.” “When I was little, I was never allowed in the kitchen while my mom was cooking. I always got in the way. Plus, I was the oldest, and I had to make sure the younger ones weren’t getting into trouble.” Jemmy stared at the table cloth. He’d given up on family gatherings since he went off to college–the nameless force of maturity that convinced him to move hundreds of miles away was the same nameless force that told him he didn’t have to spend holidays with his parents anymore. He wondered if he’d made the right decision. James sat down at the table, loudly chewing on the apple, “The harvest get-together is so much better when you’re with friends. You can’t choose family, you could get stuck with a real bunch of idiots for family, and you’re still expected to play nice and enjoy their company. But you can choose who you’re friends with.” Thomas nodded in agreement, and then, “Will Liz be joining us?” He looked pointedly in Monroe’s direction. James smiled and nodded, yes. “Who is Liz?” Jemmy asked, innocently. “My girlfriend. Well, soon-to-be girlfriend. She’s a freelance model,” James added, impressed with himself. Jemmy smiled courteously, but inside felt the old familiar feeling of dejection. There would be couples, and then there would be him. Jemmy played the inevitable scene through his mind rapidly. Who are you? What is your name? Did you come here alone? And he would shut down, embarrassed, and go home alone. It was easier that way, sadly. He realized he must have been wearing every thought, because James continued talking at him, concerned. “Do you want me to invite some more people, like…more girls? Thomas said you were depressed.” James crunched into the apple while Thomas looked up, alarmed. “James, I never said such a thing.” Jemmy felt smaller than usual, “Oh. I…I’m not depressed. I’m ok, really. I've just been...under the weather lately. Please don’t go out of your way—“ “—Nonsense!” James laughed. Thomas turned pink, but James went on, “I’m pretty well connected. Actually, I know a couple Princeton students that might be in town for the break. Want me to see if they’ll come?” Jemmy faltered, “No, really, James, It’s alright—“ “—Do you know the Freneaus? Philip goes to Princeton. He’s a little flaky. A poet, or something. He gets drunk and cries a lot. But anyway, I think he might be in town this week. I’ll ask him to bring his sister, you’ll like her.” Thomas continued to sit in distant silence, paying more attention to his phone than the conversation around him. His features were bland, and when he got like this Jemmy realized he could never tell if Thomas was having a scintillating conversation with Martha, or simply reading the weather. “You don’t mind, do you, Tom?” James looked at him, finishing his piece of fruit, “If I invite some more people over?” Thomas raised his gaze, vaguely interested, “No, no, of course not. However, if you do invite more people, tell them to bring something to eat, to share.” The conversation dragged for a few minutes longer, until Thomas decided it was time to go to the store. Jemmy was slightly concerned that James insisted on taking the front seat, without offering it to him, but resigned himself to the back. He pushed an umbrella out of the way with his feet and stared out the window, marveling at the Virginian countryside. The three men spent the rest of the day straightening up and situating the furniture so it would be more conducive to conversation—a small task, considering how neat everything already was— and by two in the afternoon, had things just the way Thomas liked them. James stood back and admired their work. “You keep this place so damn clean, Thomas,” he remarked, sitting back in a chair, “I don’t know how you do it.” Thomas smiled, mollified, while Jemmy toyed with the edge of his shirt, realizing it was slightly stained. “What time is everyone going to be here?” James continued from his seat next to the window. The mid afternoon sunlight glistened off his thick hair as he moved his head, “I just texted Philip, he says he’ll come, if there’s alcohol. Want me to invite Marshall?” He grinned cruelly.“Not if he’s going to be an argumentative sour puss... ” Thomas replied quietly, forgetting to be polite.James laughed loudly, “I think it would be funny to see him drunk. I bet he’s a sloppy drunk. I’ve only seen him drink once or twice, but never so much that he’s wasted.”“Will there be…you know, a lot of drinking tonight?” Jemmy asked, interested. He took a seat next to James, who shrugged. “I don’t plan on getting too wasted, to tell you the truth. Liz doesn’t like it. You drink?” Jemmy thought back to the parties Aaron had dragged him to, practically kicking and screaming, and remembered how loose-tongued and swimmy his brain felt after one or two beers. Vaguely, he recalled telling some inappropriate jokes, and then watching Burr hastily try and explain them away. Something small told him Jefferson would probably do the same thing. “Sometimes,” Jemmy answered, and he watched as Thomas left the room, smiling, on the phone. “Whenever I get drunk, I always end up saying something regretful. And I feel...really wretched. Physically, you know? It affects me worse than others, I think. I’m probably an embarrassment.”“Who says?” “Well, I mean, my roommate tries to get me to go to parties. And he tells me what happened, the next morning. I don’t know how to hold my alcohol, I guess,” he admitted. He watched as James grinned broadly. “Who cares what your roommate says. You’ll like these people. They’re way more down-to earth,” James reasoned further, “It sounds like you really hate everything about Princeton.”“Oh, no. I don’t hate it. I’m thankful for the education and the opportunities it will—“ “—You sound like a brochure.” James laughed, an easy sound. “Like you’re trying to convince yourself. Didn’t you say you were from Virginia, anyway? Why’d you leave, again?” Jemmy knew it would be easier to shrug. James continued. “You’re better off being in a place that accepts you for who you are, rather than trying to impress those pretentious fucks,” he raised a hand, “that try to change you and make you into something you’re not.” “I’d like to come back to Virginia after I graduate,” Jemmy said suddenly, realizing he’d never explicitly voiced his conviction before. James nodded as if he was right on track. “Sounds like a pretty solid plan. See, at least you’re going to make a change, you know? John will probably never leave Virginia, but just sit around scowling and hating every minute of it. Probably just to piss Thomas off, honestly.” “Maybe he likes it here, though. He’s got family here, he’s got his girlfriend—what’s her name?” Monroe made a grand gesture of rolling his eyes, “Polly. Jesus, if I have to hear anymore about her I’m going to vomit. Not that it’s your fault,” he added, “But if you had to live with him…John, I mean. You’d think she was a literal angel. Like flown down from the heavens simply to make John happy, the way he talks about her.” “That…bothers you?” “One time, I took his ConLaw notes to copy, because I wasn’t in class, and he’d sketched her, a little bit, in the margins.” James looked at Jemmy, cold eyes widened expectantly. Jemmy let out the requisite laugh. “I guess that’s a little strange. But I think it’s lovely that he cares so much about her.” “I walked in on them having sex once.” Jemmy coughed into his hand, unsure how to respond, “Oh…” “Yeah. You wanna talk about awkward. At least when me and Liz have sex, I have the decency to take her somewhere. Like my car.” “That’s…romantic?” “Well what am I supposed to do? John’s literally always there, it’s like he never leaves the apartment,” James was on a roll, his face expressing every emotion as he leaned this way and that in his chair, “Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever done it?” Jemmy’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “That’s…well, I…” “Just got off the phone with Martha,” Thomas entered the room, beaming, “She’s coming. And she’s bringing my favorite vegan brownies.” “Oh…wait-- you mean those brownies?” “Why, Monroe. Whatever are you insinuating?” Thomas replied cheekily, turning pink again and smiling to himself. James laughed at an inside joke, and Jemmy felt like a foreigner in a new country. **** “You’re supposed to gut the stupid thing before you put it in the oven.” “No. Absolutely not.” Aaron crossed his arms, stepping back, “If you think I’m sticking my hand into a dead turkey’s butthole—“ “—They say the innards make a great broth,” Alexander shoved the raw poultry into Aaron’s face, and he swatted it away. “Alexander, I swear to God—“ “Have you ever cooked anything in your life?” Alexander put the turkey back into the pan with a slight thud. The bird itself was small and rather pathetic, the cheapest turkey they could find at the last minute. He leaned against the counter, facing the other student, one be-gloved hand on his hip. Aaron thought for a moment, “No. Not that I can recall. I always end up either burning it or not cooking it long enough. Whatever ‘it’ is.” Alexander tsk tsked. Aaron made a face, “Oh, and I suppose you’re top chef, now?” “Actually no. I won’t lie. I’ve never cooked a turkey before, or anything, for that matter. Well, I mean, unless you count the ramen.” “Why did we even buy this stupid thing anyway?” “Something to do?” Alexander shrugged, and poked the raw poultry with a fork. He turned the oven on, preheating it, “Do you have...spices? We can’t just put it in the oven plain.” Without waiting for Aaron to answer, he walked over to the pantry and picked out a couple of small bottles from the rack on the door. Aaron watched him from his vantage point against the far counter as he covered the turkey with a random dusting of different flavors. Aaron uncrossed his arms, “How do you know those are the right ones?”Alexander shrugged, “Just guessing. How hard can it be? What did the website say--”“--I don’t know,” Aaron replied, slipping out his phone and scrolling, “The author spent twelve paragraphs talking about her dogs-- ah, here we go. Fifteen minutes per pound.”Alexander slid the pan into the over and hit start, “There. Easy enough.” He removed the mitt, and made his way into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch. He smiled, feeling content, their conversation on the beach from earlier still filling his mind with hope. “I’m officially enjoying myself. I have nice clean clothes,” he raised a hand and indicated toward the kitchen; from his vantage point, Aaron saw only the hand appear over the back seat, “The possibility of a moderately tasty dinner, free alcohol, a lovely beach to visit--” “—Movies.” “Yes. Movies…wait, what?” Alexander shot up.  “No cable or streaming, of course. But there are a ton of DVDs here, somewhere. Probably in the attic. Great Uncle Stephen again. 'Physical media is superior!' He downloaded a bunch of random pirated shit. When he moved, my aunt threw them up there. She’s going to sell them, one day, but until then—“ “Yes! We should watch a movie!” Alexander stood up from the couch. “Should we try and find them? The DVDs?” It was Aaron’s turn to shrug, “If they’re not all melted. I think the attic is insulated, but I can’t remember. But if they’re ok, I think it would be fun.” Something about the way Aaron stood in the kitchen, unsure of himself, made Alexander even more curious, “Is there... more stuff up there?” Aaron shifted his weight and tried to keep the smile on his face, muttering sheepishly, “You’re making me wish I’d brought my cigarettes. I hate digging through the attic.” Alexander walked closer, “Why?” “Do I really need to tell you why I’d hate finding old memorabilia? When it comes to my family?” Aaron walked over to the fridge and pulled out several pre-packaged containers of vegetables and a bag of bread.“You’re the one who brought up the DVDs, not me,” Alexander reasoned. “If you just tell me where they are, I can go grab them, and we don’t have to sit here all night and stare at the wall.” “I need like, six cigarettes,” Aaron mumbled, stacking the containers absentmindedly. He continued talking as if Alexander weren’t there. “Six cigarettes, and a bottle of tequila—I wish we didn’t drink all that wine—“ He went back to the pantry and fished around for more alcohol, and let out a gasp of excitement when he pulled out a bottle of vodka hidden inside an empty cardboard box of oatmeal. “What’s the big deal?” Alexander began again, quietly, “How much worse can it be than admitting your mother was a prostitute?” “It’s all my grandfather’s stuff. I’m pretty sure that’s where they keep it,” Aaron absentmindedly read the label, his pulse racing, “I know I shouldn’t be so nervous to go up there, I know I need to get over it, but…” His voice trailed off. He put the bottle on the counter with a loud clunk and stared at it, feeling his eyes glaze over. In a moment, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to force the issue,” Alexander began, nervous, “If you don’t want to go up there, we don’t have to.” “He’s dead and he’s still controlling everything,” Aaron said. Then, steeling himself, “No. We’re going up there. I’ll get over it.” “You sure?” Alexander asked again, wondering if he’d ever be willing to dig through his family’s old things—if any such things were even left—should he ever get a chance to go back to the island. A small voice in the back of his head told him, definitely, no. He let the logic slide around his mind as he watched Aaron open the vodka, and take a drink directly from the bottle. “You’ll want some of this, too,” he offered, “Trust me.” Alexander grinned, took the bottle, and shook his head, tilting it back. He swallowed a small swig, squinting his eyes as the liquor burned his tongue, “That’s powerful stuff, holy shit.” “I think that one might be a Great Uncle Stephen original,” Aaron responded, already feeling silly. He smacked his lips, sighing, “Alright. Let’s get it over with. Follow me.” Alexander grinned again and the two students made their way to the stairs, past the bedrooms, down the hallway, and up to another door. Aaron took a deep breath, and turned the handle. Immediately, Alexander was hit with a musty stench—and another staircase. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t something as mundane as a slightly stained carpet and fading wallpaper. The attic room was damp, wet, somewhat cold, and dark and nothing like the opulence of the rest of the house. Next to him on the wall, Aaron flicked on a light that illuminated a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. On the far wall was a single, circular window. And around them were piles upon piles of boxes. “Well,” Aaron raised a hand towards the room, showing it off, “Here it is. There they are. All my parents’ shit.” He waited, sighed, stared at it for a moment, and then took another sip of alcohol. “Better get digging. The sooner we’re out of this place, the better, as far as I’m concerned.” Alexander indicated that he’d like another sip, and Aaron handed the drink to him. He walked around, curiously touching things here and there, as if it were a new part of some museum exhibit. “What is that monstrosity?” Alexander looked at the large CD player, flanked by several obnoxiously large speakers, and laughed. “Is that…a stereo system? Let me guess, Great Uncle Stephen?” “I don’t even know anymore,” Aaron’s voice was muffled as he dug through a box. Silently, Alexander walked over to the dusty pile of electronics. Reaching around it, he found the cord, and to his surprise, a wall outlet to plug it in. He looked back at Aaron, who had gone slightly red at the sight of some old clothes, and turned on the stereo. The light bulb from the ceiling flickered again, more ominously. “What are you doing over there?” Aaron looked up, concerned. “Some of these outlets are dead up here. There’s no current running to them. I don’t want you to short circuit anything downstairs.” “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s not how electricity works,” Alexander called back, fidgeting with the buttons on the player. He noticed, happily, that it still had potential. “Got any CDs?” “Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting my foot down right now. I’ve heard about you at karaoke night.” Alexander stood up, laughing, “What are you talking about? I only asked if you had any CDs.” “That thing’s broken.” Aaron took the bottle, and drank. “Doesn’t look broken.” Alexander took it back, swallowed another small sip, and widened his eyes. “Actually looks pretty good. What kind of music do your crazy Christian relatives listen to?” Aaron didn’t answer; turned his back and headed toward the boxes he’d just been digging through. He tried to be light-hearted, but an old shirt here, an old book there, reminded him of why he’d alienated himself from his family in the first place. He rummaged through box after box, growing more and more irritated. He could hear, vaguely, Alexander chatting behind him, listing off different bands he liked, and how he liked to sing, and how, at one point, as a child, he’d wanted to become a songwriter. “Can you be quiet? For like two seconds,” Aaron finished with one box and kicked it out of his way, sending it skirting across the wood floor and into a wall. “Excuse me?” Alexander responded, taken aback, “What the hell just got into you?” “I told you I didn’t want to come up here. I told you this attic is full of shit I hate and it gives me the fucking creeps.” Aaron reached for another box. “You don’t have to take it out on me. Look, I told you, I don’t care about the DVDs anymore. Here,” he held out the vodka. Aaron looked at it, then back at Alexander, and took another sip.Alexander nodded, “There you go. Just drink the pain away.” “That is the worst advice I think anyone’s ever given me,” Aaron replied, swallowing. “What about that box over there,” Alexander pointed to a smaller one, marked “Media”. He walked over to it, and peered inside, “Oh, wow. There's a binder with like…a ton of CDs in it!” He situated himself on the floor next to the box, and began looking at each one before Aaron could stop him. “Come on, there’s nothing we need in there. Let’s just go,” the familiar sinking feeling returned to Aaron’s stomach; a box of his grandfather’s old sermons, the culprit. “Wow,” Alexander chuckled, words slurring only slightly, “What the hell. There are hundreds of them.” “There are?” “Like three hundred,” he exaggerated, before another sip. “So that’s where they went.” Aaron’s curiosity was piqued, and he made his way over to where Alexander sat. Despite his sour mood, he joined Alexander on the floor, explaining, “I used to collect them. I guess I must have brought them all here one summer. I used to come up here to escape from my family.” Alexander nudged him, leaning in, “Put one on. I want to hear it.” “Oh, no, come on, Alexander…” Aaron swayed.“Nope. We’re doing this,” Alexander laughed as he stood up, steadying himself against a particularly moldy box of old curtains, and reached for the CD player. He squinted as he pressed a few buttons, trying to get the music to play. In a moment, the first few chords began to play. Alexander bobbed his head along to the beat. “This isn’t so bad,” He took a slightly bigger sip, “Retro.” “What did you put on?” Aaron walked over to him and took the bottle, bringing it to his mouth and tilting it back. He fished through the box again, grabbed the liner notes to one of the albums, and moved in close to the stereo, eyes scanning the lyrics, “They use a lot of…well, metaphors, I guess, to describe the helplessness of the...what did you call it? The human condition.” “Uh huh. Metaphors,” Alexander leaned nearer to a speaker, and turned up the volume, “Still sounds like very basic electronica for sad, horny goth kids.” “This isn’t kid music,” Aaron said, a little defensively. Alexander turned and looked over at him, his face reddening with mirth. Aaron went on, somewhat lamely, “You have to be in the right mindset.” Alexander spun, and moved closer, eyes darting from Aaron’s gaze to his mouth, “Oh yeah? And what mindset is that?” “You’re too drunk to understand,” Aaron laughed, close enough to smell the alcohol on his guest’s breath.Alexander continued to move to the beat, a smug smile on his face, “I called it. I told everyone, ‘don’t trust him, he’s a strange one,’ and here we are. Listening to 80’s club music about BDSM.” “They have other songs, you know. They’re not all like that,” Aaron shook his head. He looked into the bottle of vodka, and then, “We really drank most of that already? Jesus Christ, we’re going to be so sick tomorrow.” “Don’t change the subject, pervert,” Alexander continued, the music still thudding away next to them. He stopped moving for a moment, a knowing look on his features, “Now you’ve got me all curious. What other weird shit are you into?” “There’s no way I’m telling you,” The pleasant drunkenness washed over Aaron again and he turned his body to face Alexander, “You wouldn’t believe me.” Alexander leaned in closer, the vodka making him brave, whispering, “Try me.” “Remember the woman I told you about? The one I want to introduce Jemmy to?” “Dolley,” Alexander responded, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him. “Yes. I stayed at a bed and breakfast her mother runs, a couple years back,” Aaron cleared his throat, “I slept with her mom.” Alexander sputtered, the CD skipped, and he spat some of the liquor out, “I’m sorry?” He asked, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.“Yes. It was just once, but I did it. I was…twenty-two, I think.”“I--I’m--” “What can I say? I love experienced women,” Aaron finished, a pleasant nostalgia crossing his features. Beside him, Alexander continued to clean himself up, rubbing at his shirt, still laughing and coughing. “Unreal. I knew I was right about you. I won’t let you wrap Jemmy up in this despicable behavior,” Alexander said, sliding back down onto the floor, “Sleeping with married women, my God.” “I never said she was married. And I would show Jemmy the time of his life,” Aaron said, laughing, joining him,  “He needs me to help him get out of his shell. There's something up with him. He's so private.” “He needs you like he needs a venereal disease.” Aaron punched Alexander playfully in the arm, “And what about you? Any regrettable hookups you should admit to before judging me so harshly?” Alexander inhaled, his mind fogged, trying to remember his first time, “It was back on the island. I was fifteen. She was a neighbor. We made out for twenty minutes and I fingered her and then she said she was bored and walked away.” Aaron tilted his head back, cracking up, “Jesus, you’re that bad, huh?” “Well, I mean-- we were so young. The first time is always the worst.” Aaron shifted his position, “Mine was age fifteen as well. At a picnic. She grabbed me and caught me off guard and I pushed her into a bush.” Another peal of laughter from Alexander, “Horrific.” “The first time I slept with someone it was just as bad,” Aaron felt his insides writhe in embarrassment, recalling the time he lost his virginity, “It was a couple months later. What a mess. Quick and awkward and quiet. We promised to call each other and went on a few dates but nothing ever came of it. She was pretty, though.” Alexander grew quiet, and Aaron continued. “You?” “Well. I guess that depends on what you consider is losing your virginity.” “Oh boy,” Aaron grabbed the bottle of liquor, took a sip, and offered it to the other student. Alexander nodded, closed his eyes, and lifted the drink to his lips, letting it burn his throat. He nodded to himself, before speaking again. “Yeah, it was bad. His name was Ned. He left the island a year before me, but I lived with him and his father for a while before moving here. His dad caught us together in bed, once. Anyway, the first time we were together we went down on each other and then fell asleep in his car.” It was Aaron’s turn to choke, bringing his hand up to his mouth. Next to him, Alexander closed his eyes in embarrassment, continuing, “I know, I know. Awful. Couple months after I came to New York, after I moved in with Brock's family-- you know, Livingstons--I slept with his sister Kitty a few times. She dumped me on Valentine’s day. I still don't think Brock knows," Alexander concluded, under his breath.He didn't realize how quiet it became until he looked up from his reverie to see Aaron's open-mouthed stare.Alexander balked, 'What?""...His sister? In his own house?""Oh come on. I was... she was--"Aaron scoffed, "You have me beat for depravity.""Shut up.""I'm serious," Aaron concluded, chuckling softly.The conversation lulled as the CD droned on, the eighties synth beats matching the pounding in their heads, and finally Aaron broke the silence. He readjusted himself on the floor as he spoke, haltingly, “Look...I swear I’ll stop asking and being nosy, but-- what exactly happened with you and that Laurens kid? I mean, weren’t you two dating for a while? Jemmy told me you guys had plans to move in together, and like--make things legit. And the whole business venture. Then he just stopped bringing it up.” Alexander sighed, realizing he’d have to have this conversation sooner or later. In the interest of honesty, he began his story. “We were serious. We dated for about a year,” another sip, “What I didn’t know, and what he didn’t tell me, is that he wasn’t out to his family. They’re real small minded, conservative types. Anyway, junior year of undergrad he took this... study-abroad program opportunity one semester without telling me and got some girl pregnant.” Once again, Aaron looked at him in shock, “Oh no.” “Yeah,” Alexander breathed, lifting a hand as he explained, “Basically when his father found out, he told John to break it off with me and go try to make it work with his kid and the kid's mother. John refused for a while, tried to please everyone, said he'd just date me under the radar, and eventually I had enough,” A mist came over Alexander, and he closed his eyes. Aaron waited, and his guest concluded his story, “One night, over the phone, I ended up telling him exactly how I felt about it all, how I still wanted him and how I still wanted us to be together and he told me he just couldn't. The next month I discover he's joined the military and moved to Alaska with this girl and her family. That's how it ended."“So that’s what happened,” Aaron muttered, “I’m sorry. Everyone made it seem like some… unsolved true crime thing. Like, he got wrapped up with you and the same criminals that got your parents--”“--My God, is that what people are saying?” Alexander’s face split into another smile, mercurial. “No, nothing like that. It was boring shit...just...I don’t know. Timing, circumstances. Whatever.” The music thudded on; Alexander shrugged against him and Aaron felt his body shift, the heat from it making his head spin.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jemmy couldn’t keep up with everyone he met, though he tried. He nursed one single beer as long as he could, until it got lukewarm and undrinkable. James was friendly and introduced everyone to him for the first hour, and then got distracted once his girlfriend arrived. Every time Thomas’ front door would open a new chorus of greetings would ring out, Jemmy would nod and smile in the new person’s direction, and the group would go back to chatting amongst themselves. He brought a hand up to rub a slight paint in his neck, and sat down on a nearby empty seat. “I wouldn’t sit in that, if I were you,” came a deep voice from behind him. Jemmy turned to see Marshall making his way over, holding a brightly colored can of something locally brewed. Jemmy shot up, “What? Why?”“Thomas had it imported from France. Pretty sure it’s an antique. At least that’s what he says,” Marshall indicated to the chair with the can, then sipped, “If you ask me it looks like he got it from the dump.”Jemmy laughed into his drink, “Well, cheers, I guess.”“You look like you’re judging everyone,” Marshall said. “No! I’m not. I’m just... a little overwhelmed.”“Don’t let this crowd make you nervous. You’re Madison, right?” Marshall took another sip, looked at him. Jemmy nodded and he went on, “That’s right. You’re thinking about moving to Williamsburg. Well, good luck to you.”Jemmy smiled, “Thanks...I guess.” The two were quiet for another few seconds while more guests arrived. Jemmy cleared his throat. “You...you’re Thomas’ cousin, right?”Marshall nodded, “I am. I’m really trying to play nice, get to know him better-- but he makes it so difficult.”Their eyes followed a group of students who disappeared into the kitchen, and then came back out with what Jemmy assumed was the dinner for the evening: a handful of different, brightly colored vegetables and a plate of vegan meat. Three pies, a couple pitchers of drinks, a basket of bread; Jemmy’s stomach rumbled at the sight. Marshall spoke again, “Looks halfway decent.”“You two coming?”The pair looked to their left at the doorway of the kitchen to see a younger woman leaning against the frame, regarding them. She tilted her head in the direction of the table, smile spreading, “You don’t have to...sit with everyone, if you don’t want. If you’d rather be alone.”Marshall was the first to respond, lifting himself off the wall and heading toward the kitchen, “Thank God. Is Thomas going to lead us all in prayer? Because if so, I think I’d like to see that.” Jemmy watched as the younger woman burst into laughter: a full smile, a small dimple, rosy cheeks. He suddenly felt warm; and sighed, downing the last of the flat beer. “I’ll take that,” the younger woman walked up to him with her hand out, “I’m in charge of collecting the empty beer bottles. Someone gave Thomas the idea to make yard art with them, or something. Sounds hideous to me but whatever.” Jemmy looked up at her and his words scattered before he could speak them. She crossed her arms and laughed, “Are you wasted? You’re Jemmy, right?”“I...yes. Sorry,” He held out a hand, shaking his head, “You’re…?”“Dolley,” she shook his hand, “I’m friends with your roommate.”The sinking feeling hit Jemmy almost immediately, “Oh...Aaron. Yeah.”“What’s that look for?” Dolley laughed. “He told me all about you, actually. Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re worried about.”Jemmy stood and sighed, “Yes, I’m sure he has a lot to say about me.”“You sure you’re alright?” Dolley’s smile faded slightly, lowered her voice, “How many of those have you had? Your gaze is a little...bleary.”“I’m fine,” Jemmy responded in a slightly raised voice. He hadn’t meant to sound exasperated, but the look on Dolley’s face told him otherwise. He corrected himself, “I’m fine. You’re the third person to ask. It happens all the time. I just look like this.”Dolley put her hand up, smile returning, “Alright, noted.” They stood in silence for a few seconds while the chatter from the crowded kitchen filtered in and out of the space around them. Jemmy tilted his empty bottle back and forth. Dolley attempted to fill the gaps in conversation. “So… are you gonna come try this tofurkey?”Jemmy looked up, “Would I be an asshole if I said I’m negative one-thousand percent interested?”Dolley laughed again, “You would be. But at least you’re honest.”“I’d kill for a burger.”“Well good luck finding anything open at seven pm on Thanksgiving. Come on. Maybe we can grab some of those biscuits. I won’t eat the tofurkey if you don’t,” Dolley jerked her head toward the table again.It was warmer in the kitchen; crowded, loud, with a delicious smell permeating the air, Jemmy had to admit. He studied the table, grabbing a plate from the counter. Everything had been picked over except for the tofurkey and he stifled a small laugh. Even Thomas hadn’t been brave enough to eat it. He spooned some green beans and sweet potatoes onto his plate, and grabbed a piece of bread. Dolley appeared beside him again, “Ah, I see you’re a fan of marshmallows.”“Oh...yeah-- the sweet potatoes--”“--So, who’s gonna be the first person to tell Thomas marshmallows are decidedly not vegan?” Dolley lowered her voice. Jemmy laughed again, “I hadn’t even thought of that. Aren’t they made from gelatin?”“They absolutely are.” Dolley pointed toward a white ceramic bowl filled with brown liquid, “Beef gravy.”“Christ,” Jemmy closed his eyes and laughed harder.“Gotta give him credit for effort, I guess,” Dolley mimicked his smile. She looked around, “Seats are all taken. Guess we’re gonna have to eat outside. Stupid little house can’t fit this many people. It has to be a fire code violation, or something.”Jemmy followed the friendly woman back out through the kitchen, the living room-- toward a pair of sliding doors-- and out onto a patio where a handful of people milled around. She brushed some leaves from a patio chair and sat, indicating Jemmy join her. He complied, pulling his jacket tighter, and staring into his plate, suddenly nervous.Dolley filled the silence again, “Green beans are pretty good. Pretty sure that’s regular butter, but who knows.”Jemmy reached to his right and opened a cooler, pulling out two bottles and handing one to Dolley. “I’m starting to realize Thomas is a little…” Jemmy searched for a polite word. “Hypocritical?” Dolley offered, popping the bottle cap with a nearby bottle opener. She handed it to Jemmy. He grinned, “Yeah...a little.”They chewed quietly for a moment. Jemmy’s mind whirred, trying to think of ways to keep the conversation going. He swallowed another sip of beer, silently lamenting his broken promise to only have one, looking over at the younger woman sitting next to him. “So...you’re friends with Aaron?” He tried. Dolley chewed, swallowed, nodded, “Yeah. Yep. He was vacationing in Philly-- that’s where I live-- and he needed a place to stay and my mom was renting our house as an Airbnb. We kind of just. Hit it off.” Jemmy looked at her again, wondering if he were getting the whole story. He didn’t have to wait long for her to divulge more. “He ended up coming back a bunch more times. Every time he’d visit Philly he’d stay with us. I thought it was because he was trying to get with me but it was because he was sleeping with my mother.”Jemmy choked on a particularly dry piece of biscuit, spewing crumbs onto his lap. “Whatever. I try not to think about it too much. He definitely has a type, I guess,” Dolley went on, unaware, focusing on cutting a piece of carrot with the edge of her fork, “Anyway-- that ended after a while. But we kind of hit it off, and stayed in touch. Besides, now I have a place to stay when I want to dick around New York.”“That’s...good, I guess,” Jemmy replied. Dolley laughed into another bite of carrots, mouth full, “One time… I’ll never forget it-- we were at this party at a beach house-- he brought out this garbage coke his cousin got off a guy at a seven-eleven-- I swear to god I saw my own death that night-- Aaron’s insane.”“Yeah...he’s...I don’t really…” Jemmy struggled to keep up with the worldly girl next to him, coming up with a lie, “...I wish I could get out more. You know, party. But I’m so busy with school and trying to transfer, it’s impossible.”Dolley nodded knowingly, “Oh, yeah. For sure.”“Are you… in school?”“Bryn Mawr,” Dolley took another forkful of food, “Taking a year off, currently. Just to kind of...figure things out, I guess.”The conversation kept hitting walls, Jemmy despaired silently. He stole another glance at the woman next to him, studying her: dark curls falling out of a bun on top of her head, large, liquid eyes, bright smile, soft skin--“Do you want to creep around his house?” Dolley interrupted his thoughts. Jemmy tried to fight another grin, “Are you sure about that? Feels kind of wrong.”“I want to see what other weird bullshit Thomas has hiding around here,” Dolley stood, “Let’s go find his office.”Jemmy looked around at the rest of the people on the patio. They didn’t seem to know he was there. Neither did Thomas, James or even Marshall, for that matter. He peered back into the kitchen and they all looked as if they were wrapped up in their own conversations. He looked back at Dolley, who was checking her cell phone. He stood, “Alright. Let’s do it,” and followed her back into the house. The voices of the party faded. Dolley kept their conversation going breezily. “I have friends in the area, Williamsburg, I mean. My ex...he lives a couple miles north. Used to hang out here all the time,” she explained, flicking a cold blue light on in a small office.Jemmy stepped in behind her, taking another swig of the beer, “How...old are you?”“How old am I?” Dolley laughed. He realized too late that the question probably sounded strange. Jemmy turned red and began absentmindedly reorganizing several jade Buddha figurines into a circle on one of the shelves, “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just mean-- you sound like you’ve lived a very full life.”Dolley leaned on a computer desk, running her hand across the top of a shining Mac, “Well, you’re not wrong.” She stopped short, as if she were remembering something. “I don’t mean you look old.” “Okay, just stop talking,” She looked at him and laughed again. Then, more serious, “Alright. I haven’t been totally truthful. I kind of...invited myself because I knew you’d be here. It was Aaron’s idea. He told me you were...lonely.”Jemmy exhaled, shoulders falling, “Did he?”“I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I feel bad not telling you. You seem nice. Not lonely. Just quiet,” Dolley faced the computer and jiggled the mouse, waking the computer up from its dark screen to reveal a picture of Thomas looking solemn and unwashed in front of the Arc de Triomphe. She scoffed, “Jesus-- if I were visiting Paris I wouldn’t look so mad about it.”“Is it...is the Mac not password protected?” Jemmy walked over, frowning, “That seems kind of foolish. Thomas always told me he was very protective of his data. Went on and on yesterday about VPNs and Tor-- you’d think--”Before Jemmy could finish his thought, Dolley had clicked into Thomas’ profile with a small shriek of laughter. She bent down, moved the mouse around.“Dolley, I don’t think we should--”“--Oh, come on. Live a little. Let see what kind of gross porn he’s into.” She made to sit down on the swivel chair at the desk and as soon as she made contact with it, it came apart in a loud clatter. Dolley swore and hit the floor, red faced. “Jesus fucking Christ!”“Are you alright?” Jemmy rushed over to her, kneeling down next to her, “What on earth--” “--This stupid chair--” She pushed herself up into a seated position, kicking the mess aside, “What is this? Homemade? What Youtube video did he watch for five minutes before deciding to try his hand at carpentry?”Jemmy covered his mouth, trying not to laugh, “I’m sorry-- it’s-- it’s not funny. Are you alright? Seriously.”“My ass hurts. Tailbone. I’ll be fine,” Dolley brushed herself off and leaned into him as she stood, “I guess that’s what I get for snooping.”Jemmy felt lightheaded, “Yeah. Yes. Do you need...an ice pack, or anything? I’m sure he has something.”“No, I’ll be fine,” Dolley straightened herself, then looked dolefully down at the crumbled chair, “He’s going to wonder what happened. Should we fess up or just let him find it on his own?”“Eh...let him find it on his own,” Jemmy grinned. “He’ll probably have more fun trying to rebuild it, anyway. Look, I think I found his journals.” He motioned over to the shelf on the far wall, where the Buddhas sat in an off-center circle, and Dolley made her way over to it. A smile spread across her face slowly.“Oh, fantastic,” she whispered, “This is great. Look at these journals. I think they’re hand-made.”“You have to admire his creative ambition, I guess,” Jemmy offered. “Hey-- wait a minute-- they’re labeled.”“Yeah, by year, it looks like. Jesus, he’s been keeping journals since he was…” Dolley tilted her head, scanning the spines and doing the math, “...since he was a freshman in high school.” She slipped one out-- labeled for the year previous--and flipped through it. “His handwriting is awful,” she remarked, handing it to Jemmy. He opened it and squinted, trying to make out the chicken-scratch. He spotted a familiar name, tapping Dolley, “Hey… is that-- that looks like my name.”She turned back, looking at it, “It does...at least I think it does. It says… ‘Madison is smart but…’ I can’t make out the last word. Un...something. God. Now I’m both mad and curious.”“I don’t like the idea of him writing about all of us.”Dolley slipped one of the journals back onto the shelf, shrugging, “Me neither, but it’s not like we can stop him. I guess I’m happy it’s not online somewhere, for everyone to read. Although who knows, with him. He probably makes copies of it all. Handwritten and digital. Ugh-- why are there so many hideous little tchotchkes? I feel like I’m in a nursing home.” She picked up a different figurine, a tiny blond boy in lederhosen sitting on the back of a sheep, and rolled it around in her hands. “Hummels,” Jemmy offered. He finished the last of his beer, which had gone flat and tasteless, watching her. He spoke again, swallowing, “Do you think we should get back to the party? I feel like we’re going to be missed. Sounds like someone’s playing music. Might be fun to go watch people try and dance.”“Now you’re speaking my language,” Dolley put the figurine back on the shelf. She slipped an arm around Jemmy, “I’m going to need you to help me walk, I think. The pain is traveling down my thigh. I probably pulled a muscle. God, I need to get back to the gym…”She trailed off and Jemmy allowed her to lean against him again. His head swam, and he knew it was a combination of the alcohol, his lack of sleep, and the pretty girl chattering on pleasantly, and the smell of her light, floral perfume. He swallowed a pain in his throat again and tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. 
Maybe Aaron isn’t so bad, huh? 
 “...Anyway, so that’s why you don’t go to the Passyunk Avenue Wawa after midnight…” Dolley’s light voice fluttered around his spinning mind, in and out, “...Hey, Jemmy-- you don’t look so good--”Before he knew it, his mind went blank, and the swimmy feeling in his head and neck overpowered him. The last thing he remembered were his limbs going rigid, unable to speak, trying to warn the friendly girl at his side.  **** The vodka processed through their systems quickly; fast metabolisms, Aaron reasoned, staring at Alexander's small frame as he tried to cut the blackened turkey. He sipped a glass of water. He’d offered to help, but Alexander insisted-- grabbed the biggest knife in the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and set to work. “Some people use powered knives. You know, electric ones. Like little saws,” Aaron said from his position against the counter, “You’re butchering it.”“Do you have electric knives?” Alexander huffed.“We do not.”“Well then shut up…” He trailed off, resuming cutting. After another few minutes, they each had a plate of dry, overcooked turkey and pre-made gravy from a jar on matching antique china.“Looks…” Aaron stood next to his guest as they regarded it, “...pretty bad.”Alexander sighed, “Yeah.”“How about the veggies? Peas are good. And mashed potatoes--” Aaron grabbed a box, “--I know they’re powdered, but how bad could they be?”“Canned peas, powdered mash potatoes, congealed gravy and turkey that I wouldn’t feed to a dog,” Alexander took the plate to a bar stool at the counter, starting to stab at it listlessly, “Happy Thanksgiving.”He looked up to see Aaron handing him a glass of wine, “Happy Thanksgiving.”Alexander took it, “I’m still buzzed from the vodka.”“You need something to help wash this dreck down,” Aaron reasoned, sitting next to him. He put a piece of turkey to his mouth, tasting, “It’s...not terrible. For first timers I’d say it’s alright.”Alexander grunted and scooped up a spoonful of peas.They sat in silence again, bathed in the glow from the recessed track above them and the overhead oven light. The counter was littered with empty cans and packaging front their dinner attempts. Alexander wondered what the night would have in store: if they’d try to watch a movie, if Aaron would announce that he was going to bed at nine pm, if they’d take another cold walk on the beach. “I don’t want to get corny, but...I’m having fun. I didn’t think I would.” Aaron shoved another forkful into his mouth, averting his eyes. “You’re not annoyed that I invited myself over then? You promise?”“I promise.”Alexander watched him, lifting the glass to his lips and studying him through the shimmering golden liquid of the white wine. “So... friend… what are we doing tonight? More exploring?” Alexander set the glass down gently onto the glittering marble surface. Aaron shrugged, “Not much to do here, really. There are some places further in town, Bridgeport. But they’re probably closed today. All my stuff is at my apartment in Princeton. The DVDs are MIA and even if we could find them, they’re going to be really lame. I don’t know…” He trailed off, and the pair finished their meals. The conversation lulled. Alexander’s tongue felt heavy and thick; but the lightness in his chest kept him alert. “There has to be something to do around here,” He tried again. Aaron split the last of the pinot grigio between them, frowning, “I swear-- this place is a summer town. Everything shuts down after Labor day. The only places that stay open are like, shitty little gift shops and mom and pop diners and dive bars. We could certainly try, but I can’t make any promises.”Alexander stood up, “Let’s try. I’m calling a cab.”“Come on,” Aaron laughed. “I’m too drunk. The town is so boring, Hamilton.”Alexander scrolled through his phone and booked a driver, slipping it back in his pocket, “Stand up. The driver will be here in ten minutes. We’re going.”“What are we going to do? Walk around in the dark and look at all the closed antique shops?” Aaron followed him back down the front hallway as the other boy grabbed his jacket and scarf. “What are we going to do here?” Alexander reasoned back at him, handing him his jacket. “I don’t know… fine, you’re right. But I swear. The minute some townie recognizes me or tries to ask about my aunt or whatever, I’m going home. With or without you,” Aaron zipped himself up, and opened the front door for them. In ten minutes they were in the back of the car, headed down the empty, dark streets, the only light the yellow glow from dining rooms and families sitting down for their holiday dinners. At a red light Alexander stared into one of the open windows: a group of fifteen or so people gathered in a single room, some standing with plates, talking happily. Some younger children at a table by themselves. An old woman at a piano. The light turned green and the car lurched and he inhaled, swallowing a small lump in his throat. “You alright over there?” Aaron nudged him, quiet. “It’s not too late to go home, if you’re feeling ill.”“No, I’m fine,” Alexander forced a yawn to hide the wetness at his eyes, “Once I get out in the open, walking around, I’ll wake right up again.”They reached their destination: a small parking lot outside of a boutique. Alexander stood with his hands in his pockets and watched Aaron tip the driver handsomely, “For working on Thanksgiving,” he said, shutting his phone off, and the pair headed toward the sidewalk. “God, there really is no one out. Kind of gives me the creeps,” Aaron muttered, bracing himself against a gust of wind. “Everyone's at home with their families except us. The ghouls.”“The what?” Aaron looked at him and his face cracked into a grin. Alexander returned it, “Us. We’re the ghouls.”“Oh, I like that,” Aaron laughed.“Come on, let’s see what’s happening at the bar down there. Looks terrible,” Alexander slipped his arm inside Aaron's and pulled him, still talking, feeling braver, “This is where all the ghouls go, I bet. I want you to buy me a drink.”They pushed the door open and were hit with an expected scene: several sad-looking patrons sat, heads down, at the bar by themselves. A trio of surly-looking teenagers eyed them from the back corner. An older, gray haired male bartender lifted his head in greeting, and then went back to staring at the flickering television behind him. A low, inarticulate song drifted around them. “Well. The gang's all here,” Aaron lifted his hand.“Just take a seat anywhere. I’ll be right with you,” the bartender called out.They sat by themselves on the far end of the bar. Aaron began toying with a napkin. “Feels pretty depressing,” Alexander said after a beat. “I bet everyone here feels sorry for everyone else.”“Why did I let you drag me to this place? When I was a kid I used to think it was haunted. All the weird vines growing up the side of the building,” Aaron muttered, “Anyway, what are you having? I’d advise sticking to liquor and not beer. Not unless you want to feel like throwing yourself off a bridge tomorrow morning.”“Hm,” Alexander looked at a faded, sticky drink menu, “Martini, I guess.”“You like them?”“Never had one,” Alexander answered, sliding the menu away.Aaron smiled again, “Saw it in a movie?”They placed their orders and the bartender set to work making the drinks.“Cheers to cheesy movies,” Alexander lifted the martini and Aaron echoed the movement, locking their eyes. “I think...it’s so nice...when couples go out together. On holidays.” A drunken woman with a thick, slurred Boston accent called over to them, nursing a beer. She raised her own drink, and sipped, continuing, “You don’t need a big family to celebrate the holidays. It’s all commercialized bullshit.” A couple of the other patrons lifted their heads appreciatively, some nodded, some chuckled. Aaron felt himself grow warm, “Oh--we’re not--”“--I agree,” Alexander cut him off. “Who needs the stress?”The drunken woman raised her beer again, “Like I’m saying.”Aaron nudged him again, “Don’t encourage her. What are you doing?”“Oh come on. She’s harmless.”“You guys got any cigarettes?” She called out. Aaron made a face at Alexander, then exhaled, hopped off the stool and walked over to her, with his half-empty pack outstretched. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she mumbled, slipping a cigarette out and putting it in her mouth. “Outside, Debora,” the bartender pointed to the door as she made to light it. Debora muttered something unintelligible and made her way to the sidewalk, smoke trailing behind her.“We have more in common with her than you’d like to admit,” Alexander bit the olive off the skewer. “Could be one of us in thirty years. Sitting at a dive bar in rural Connecticut bumming cigarettes off a couple of loser college kids.”“She thought we were a couple, alright,” Aaron said into his drink.“Is that what’s bothering you? Let her,” Alexander grinned, “Come on. Let’s see if we can get her to give us marital advice. Let’s hear her life story.”“What has gotten into you?” Aaron looked at him: pink cheeks and sharp smile, and he realized, like switching on a light, how devilishly charming Alexander could be.Debora made her way back to the bar, still talking to herself. She motioned for another beer. Alexander cleared his throat, “So… Debora. Have you ever been married?”The woman looked up in slight alarm, as if she’d forgotten they were there. Then, after a silent few seconds, “...What? Me? Oh...yeah. I was married. He was a real piece of shit. Left me for my cousin. So I fucked his brother.” A couple of the people nearby laughed into their drinks. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that,” Alexander replied, sympathetic. Aaron watched him as he continued the conversation, “What would your advice be for a young couple, starting out?”“Honesty,” Debora leaned in, widened her eyes, and lifted a pointed finger, “Have all the same enemies. Read books. I don’t fucking know.” Her mood swung from helpful to irritated, and she swayed, stifling a belch. “Are you taking notes?” Alexander lowered his voice and spoke directly to the boy at his right.Aaron closed his eyes and laughed again, “You’re such an asshole.”“I’m about finished with this,” Alexander tipped his martini back, then placed it down again, “Where are we off to next? Or have you had enough fun for the evening?”“Even if I wasn’t ready to go, the only other places that are open are a Dunkin and a gas station, and I don’t see us having a super great time at either of those,” Aaron replied. “Do you just want to stay here for a bit longer and order another? Honey?”  Alexander nearly spit out the rest of his drink at the word, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallowed, “...Sure, babe.” Two more martinis were brought, and the pair found that they went down much easier than the first. “I get why these are so popular, now,” Aaron said, lifting the glass and examining it in the low, grimy light. “They’re not bad,” Alexander agreed. He closed his eyes and shook his head, the lump of strong liquor sliding down his throat filling him and making him hot. He toyed with his collar, loosened it, and adjusted himself against the bar stool.The music changed to a slow, mournful dirge, and the teenagers who sat sulking at the booth swore and rolled their eyes at it. They left in a huff, too cool for any of it. A couple of the patrons stood and pulled a partner to an empty dance floor. Aaron recognized the song as something he liked when he was a child; he closed his eyes and let the painful, sweet nostalgia of it wash over him.“You alright?” Alexander prodded him. Aaron’s eyes opened again. “Let’s dance.”“What?” Alexander sputtered. “Now you’re taking the couple thing too far. You are drunk.”“Do you remember this song?”“Sort of.”Aaron stood and straightened his jacket, “Come on. One dance. For Debora.”Alexander stifled another drunken laugh. He looked at his drink, shook his head, and gave in, standing up. He followed Aaron to the scuffed collection of cracked tiles that served as the dance floor, lit by low hanging Christmas lights and an old jukebox covered in faded bumper stickers. They fell into each other, awkward at first, Alexander’s laughter--”You’ve never danced with another man before. Who is leading who, here?”--and Aaron’s drunken inability to formulate a coherent response. Alexander took the lead and wrapped his arm around Aaron’s lower back, pulling their bodies flush and guiding him in small circles. Aaron lay his head on the other boy’s shoulder, closed his eyes, let the reality of it drift out of his consciousness. “Are you falling asleep?” Alexander muttered during a lull in the song. “Hm,” Aaron sighed. “I’m going to take that as a yes. I didn’t think you were such a lightweight.”Aaron breathed him in again, matching the rhythm of their breaths; let Alexander pull him across the floor. The song ended and Aaron came out of his reverie, stepping back and staring at him, the levity of their ruse evaporating when faced with Alexander’s high-colored cheeks, fluttering pulse and blown-out pupils. They stared at each other quietly for a moment. Alexander was the first to find his words, reached into his back pocket for his cellphone, “Should I...the driver. We should probably--”“--Call him. Yeah,” Aaron took a deep breath and readjusted his coat, zipping it up and setting cash on the bar before heading, quickly, to the door.  **** The ride back was silent and quick. There were thoughts Aaron didn’t want to examine or entertain, but they slammed fists against the forefront of his mind even as the world seemed to spin with the alcohol still heavy inside of him. He realized he couldn’t even look at Alexander, whose nerves made him even more chatty, and Aaron answered him with noncommittal nods and sighs as the pair made their way through the locked gate, up the driveway and into the dark house. “Well, overall, I like it. I like the shitty little town and the weird barflies.” Alexander slipped out of his jacket and hung it up, missing the hook and stumbling, laughing, “Oops… Jesus. I need to lie down.”Aaron could hear the nervous dryness in his mouth. He hung his jacket up and followed Alexander into the living room. Alexander surveyed the area, looking for his phone charger, trying to ignore the intensity of Aaron’s stare. “I think...what time is it? Eleven? I’m going to…” Alexander’s thoughts were suddenly scattered, “...Mind if I grab a couple of aspirin and a glass of water for the night?”“Of course not, here-- let me get it for you--” Aaron blinked and walked into the kitchen, almost on autopilot, reaching into the cabinets for the pills and the cup. He felt Alexander’s stare follow him as he made his way to the fridge for ice and filtered water. He turned back around, and Alexander was at him, waiting. “Thank you. I could have gotten that. I’m not that drunk.”Aaron smiled, “I feel like I’m going to pass out any second. I have a feeling you’re lying.”Alexander locked eyes with him again and then tipped his head back, swallowing the pilled in one gulp. Then, matter-of-factly, “I feel really bad about sleeping in your aunt’s room. First of all, I hardly know her. It feels invasive. Second of all, her bed is...look, I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s way too soft. I was hoping for something a bit... harder.”Aaron’s heart raced and his fingers went cold, “Harder?”“If you’ve got anything like that,” Alexander searched him.“Yeah...yes… I think--” Aaron turned back to the fridge and made himself his own glass of water, then walked toward the stairs, feeling Alexander close behind, “...I think one of the bedrooms has...one of those, you know-- the tempurpedic mattresses. With the different settings--” He rambled stupidly, leading Alexander down the hallway into a well-furnished guest bedroom. “Like, you can make it super soft, like a giant pillow, or--” Aaron spun and faced his guest again, who’d stepped closer. He closed his eyes and inhaled, “--or firm. However...whatever setting. The remote is in the nightstand--”Alexander shut the bedroom door and walked over to him, confidently, brazenly, pulling him in for a kiss. Aaron felt his knees give way and the heat rise in his face as Alexander navigated them toward the bed, pushing him down onto it while their lips locked. His hands searched Aaron and deftly undid the buttons of his shirt, too quickly, popping several and sending them clattering to the wooden floor. He loved the taste of liquor on their mouths, intermingling, relishing in it. He worked fast, unbuckling Aaron’s belt and sliding it out of his pant loops. The fly, the zipper. He broke away from Aaron’s mouth to see a look of eager surprise on the man beneath him; swollen lips parted and waiting. Alexander went for his neck and bit his ragged pulse, eliciting a moan from Aaron that shot through him and went straight to his groin. “You like that?” Alexander breathed, slipping a hand beneath the waistband of Aaron’s boxers. Aaron closed his eyes and tilted his head back, nodding, "Yeah." He always enjoyed fucking while drunk-- it made him flighty and loose, wild and unrestrained. He should have realized Alexander would be the same. He let Alexander's warm, practiced hands wrap around him and stroke, feeling as though a dam were bursting. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down in time to see Alexander take him into his mouth, and he swore at the sudden bold of pleasure. “Alexander...fuck…” He closed his eyes again and swore, “You’re so good at that--”Alexander’s throaty laugh, “--I’m familiar with the equipment.”He felt the hot tongue traveling torturously slow up the length of him; the tight, wet heat of Alexander’s mouth again, up and down, intense and focused. Alexander’s firm grip moving in time with his lips and hollowed-out cheeks. Aaron watched him, unable to catch his breath. He ran his fingers through Alexander’s thick, unruly hair and fell back again, holding him in place. Was it always leading to this? The flashing memories of how Alexander had been all those years ago when they'd first met and Aaron's instantaneous fascination.
Yes. That was it.
“...God...don’t stop…” Aaron managed. He replayed the scenes from the bar, unable to remember anything at the moment except the way Alexander’s chest felt against his, the sound of his voice at his ear, the sharp, handsome, devious smile. The way Alexander worked him, fast and unforgiving, needing. Alexander disobeyed and stopped, crawling up on top of him, looking down into Aaron’s eyes, leaving him painfully hard, “You’re not going to make me do all the work, are you?”Aaron rolled his hips, whispering low and desperate, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”“Right answer,” Alexander came in for another open-mouthed kiss, smiling between breaths, “...Have you ever sucked a dick before?”“I’ve thought about it,” Aaron's words came out strained and strange. Well, it was the truth. Above him, Alexander made quick work of his own pants, shoving them off into a crumpled pile on the floor. He pressed his body into Aaron's and the skin to skin contact forced a low moan from the back of his throat. Alexander brought his mouth to Aaron's ear again, whispering, “...Just give me what you like. I like it, too. Do you want me to talk you through it?”Aaron answered, nodding, yes, before he could think. Then, his rushed words, “...God, yes. Yes-- talk to me. Instruct me.”Alexander shifted into a different position, bringing Aaron’s lips level with his crotch and slipping inside his mouth, “There-- just like that--” His invective didn’t stop and it was all Aaron could do to focus, his mind a tumbling confusion of thoughts. Am I doing it right? Is this good? Does it feel good? He didn’t need to ask; Alexander provided all the encouragement he needed, hissing and spitting praise, swearing at every flick of Aaron’s tongue. Alexander’s hips bucked and with every whimper Aaron grew more confident. His eyes darted up and stayed put on Alexander’s-- it seemed to work and Alexander swore again, the incoherent murmuring just barely registering in Aaron’s ear: Good job, just like that, keep going…I’m so close, Aaron-- At the sound of his name Aaron’s hand found the hardness between his own legs and he touched himself, slow at first and then faster with each phrase that flew from Alexander’s mouth. Alexander’s movements made the old headboard creak, the sheets shifting and buckling around them, his inarticulate praise, selfishly finishing with a loud, unguarded moan directly down Aaron’s throat before he could stop it. At that point-- sweat gathering on Aaron’s exposed chest with a heartbeat that made him feel close to passing out-- Aaron didn’t care. He wanted it, letting it pool at the sides of his lips before Alexander bent down and claimed it, sharing it between them. “Such a good little pastor’s son,” Alexander growled into his mouth, shifting his hands from Aaron’s chest, to his arms, linking their fingers and pressing him back into the mattress, “...You did so good. Let me finish you off. Lay back.”Before Aaron could answer Alexander moved down, slowly, leaving a trail of kisses across his exposed abdomen and inner thigh. He took Aaron back into his mouth and drained him so thoroughly and pleasurably Aaron swore he felt his soul leave his body. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he groaned, heaving, gripping the sheets while he came down. Alexander smiled up at him-- the cruel grin that arrested Aaron where he lay-- and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Alexander laughed, and moved back on top of him, pinning Aaron to the bed, leaning in for a languid, biting kiss. “I will take that as a compliment,” Alexander murmured.“You should,” Aaron managed. The only sound, for a moment, were their breaths, hard and rapid.Alexander rolled off of him and onto his back, staring at the ceiling with a hand draped across his midsection. He closed his eyes and let a small smile creep across his face; bit his bottom lip. He turned to look at Aaron, who, he was delighted to see, was still trying to gather his thoughts, “You’re not too bad yourself, mister ‘I’ve never done this before’. Could have fooled me.”Aaron gazed at him.“Still speechless?” Alexander continued.“I didn’t...I’m sorry, let me just--” Aaron sat up and pulled his boxers up, ran a hand through his hair, maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed and reached for his glass of water. He focused on that, taking several big gulps to cool him and calm his racing heart and spinning head. Alexander copied him and Aaron could hear him getting dressed; felt the dip in the mattress next to him as he sat back down. Alexander leaned into him and brushed a piece of hair from Aaron’s forehead, “It doesn’t have to mean anything. As long as it felt good, who cares?”Aaron shot him a cynical look out of the corner of his eye, “I like the way you think.”“Figured as such,” Alexander laughed. He fell back, letting out a long, contented sigh, “This bed is really nice. Nice and hard. Just the way I like it.”Aaron turned to him, “You’ve made your point, Alexander.” Alexander tilted his head back again and Aaron watched his cheeks bloom with color, another peal of laughter escaping him. “You think you’re so funny,” Aaron muttered again, smiling. “I do. And I am,” Alexander got beneath the covers, situating himself comfortably against the pillows and closing his eyes to steady the spinning room, “I'm still wasted. Every time I close my eyes it feels like I’m on a see-saw.”Aaron stood, bending down to pick up his torn shirt, examining it with knitted brows, “This is ruined. Unless you know how to sew.”“I do not.” Alexander yawned and closed his eyes, quickly slipping under, half-conscious, “You can sleep with me, if you want, it’s nice to sleep with someone.”  Aaron paused and stared at him for a moment, “Oh yeah?”“Mm hm…” Alexander rolled over and made space for him, instinctively. The bed looked inviting; the occupant, soft and warm and handsome. Aaron sighed, looking down at the lump of clothes in his hands before tossing it onto a nearby side chair and making up his mind. He took one last sip of water, placed it on the nightstand, and slipped beneath the covers next to his guest, curling up against his skin and falling asleep in seconds.  **** When Jemmy came-to he was seated in the hall, propped up against the wall. The first thing he saw was Dolley’s worried face, looming over him, her hands searching his neck and head. “What happened…?” Jemmy tried to speak, but all that came out was a tumble of inarticulate words and he coughed, clumsily wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve. Dolley frowned, situating herself on the floor, “Are you alright?”“I feel sick.”“Want me to grab the trash can from the bathroom?”Jemmy shook his head, no, and was immediately hit with a searing pain. He put his hand to his cheekbone, wincing, and pulled it away, finding blood on his fingers. As reality slowly crept back in, he began to despair. Dolley waited, unsure what to say. She waved some curious partygoers past with a loose, friendly laugh, “He’s fine, just had a little too much to drink! It’ll be okay!”Thomas appeared and rushed toward him, crouching, “Jemmy? What on earth--” Dolley’s insistent voice, “He’ll be fine, Thomas, give him some air. Monroe-- wipe that stupid look off your face, make yourself useful for once and grab some ice--”“Should we call a paramedic?” Came a voice Jemmy didn’t recognize. And even if he did, he couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open for more than a second. “Do you wanna pay for that?” Dolley shot back. “I’m just asking…”“He’ll be okay. Look. He’s coming-to,” she reached out and touched his face, cradled his loose head in the palm of her hand, “Jemmy… you in there? Can you tell me what day it is?”Jemmy forced his eyes open again, clearing the phlegm from his throat, “Thursday.”Dolley sat back on her heels, chirping, “See? Good as new.”He pushed himself up and swallowed another bout of nausea that rose up in his stomach. Monroe returned and handed the pair a pack of ice, and Dolley took it, carefully placing it against his cheek, murmuring, “You just went down. I didn’t have time to catch you. You’ve got a little cut just beneath your eye, there--”“--What happened…?” Jemmy muttered again. The crowd began to disperse. Dolley shifted her weight and kept the ice pack in place, “You never said you had epilepsy.”Jemmy closed his eyes again and frowned, defeated. “Yeah...yes… I mean…” he struggled, afraid that if he were to talk any further it wouldn’t be words that came out, but sobs. “Hey, you’re right, it’s none of my business. It’s not...the alcohol, is it?” Dolley turned pink and dropped her voice even lower, “My ex...he was… pretty far gone, by the time I left him. He used to have seizures when he’d go too long without a drink.”Jemmy could only nod, a flare of muscle pain spreading from the back of his neck, down his spine, straight to his legs. “Yes it’s the alcohol?”“...No, sorry. It’s...I’ve had it since I was…” Jemmy faltered, “...I can’t remember.”“No worries. Do you think you can stand?”Jemmy lifted himself off the floor, steadied himself against the wall. Dolley slipped her arm beneath his and led him toward Thomas’ bedroom, chucking, “I guess it’s my turn to play nurse. Jesus, this house is a death trap. First my ass, then your face.”Jemmy wanted to laugh, but a burst of pain in his temples kept him from it. He hit the bed and fell back slowly, hissing.  “My muscles.” “Yeah, you probably pulled something, the way you were moving,” Dolley pulled up a chair and set it next to the bed. She immediately popped back up again, thinking of something, “Oh! I should bring you some aspirin, or something. Let me see what Thomas has. Don’t move.” She was gone in a flurry of movement, leaving Jemmy alone with his thoughts. In place of the fog of his seizure came the bright, stinging embarrassment, bursting through the surface of his consciousness. That was it, he lamented, rubbing his eyes. That was why he kept to himself-- that was why he couldn’t just enjoy anything. And that was why he was so lonely. Jemmy choked back a small sob, clearing his throat again, sniffing. “Christ, pull it together,” he scolded himself. “Back!” Dolley stepped in through the door holding a bottle of SmartWater and a bottle of generic brand ibuprofen. She sat down again and handed it to him, “No one seems to care that you just slammed your head into a desk. They really are either the most self-centered group of people I’ve ever met, or truly on another planet--”“--They’re not...talking about me, are they?”“God no. But don’t take it to heart. I’m sure they care, in their own way--”“--No. That’s a good thing. I don’t want anyone talking about me. Or this,” Jemmy motioned to himself. Dolley was quiet for a moment, taking the icepack from the nightstand and holding it to his face. Gently, “You’re right. It’s none of their business. I’m sorry you’re having such a shit night.”The two were silent again. He leaned into Dolley’s soft hands, letting the din of the party fill the space between them. She furrowed her brow and concentrated on cleaning the blood from his cheekbone, grabbing a handful of tissues from a box to her left and dabbing.“You don’t have to do this, really. I’ll be alright. I just need… I don’t know. I need to sleep, I think,” Jemmy tried again. “I don’t mind.”Jemmy held forth, uncharacteristically, “It’s so stupid. There’s no warning, either. It just happens. The doctors can’t figure it out, they’re useless. They just keep refilling my prescription and sending me on my merry way. I thought I had it under control. I can’t remember the last time I had one. It has to be stress-related, that’s the only logical explanation. I haven’t changed my diet, I don’t drink, I walk and exercise when I can--”“--So that’s the real reason you want to move away from Princeton.”Jemmy shrugged, “It’s not that easy.”“Try me.”He sighed, too tired, too hurt, to keep it inside. “Thomas said he’d take care of me if---well, if this shit happened again…I can't drive. I can't really live on my own. The minute people find out, they...” he trailed off, a new worry replacing the previous one, “...He’s the only one that knows. Not even Aaron knows. I’m so embarrassed.”Dolley touched his leg, “Hey, don’t be. Seriously. If it makes you feel any better, no one gives a shit.”Jemmy let a tiny laugh escape him, "That actually does make me feel better.”“I mean, you could have shit yourself down there and I don’t think anyone would notice. Monroe’s girlfriend, the Instagram-y one--”“--Liz, yeah--”“--Yeah, she’s down there showing everyone Youtube vlogs of her trip to Bali last summer. It’s just her and her dumb friends in bikinis. Seriously, no one’s thinking about you, I promise,” Dolley laughed, letting go of his leg and the ice pack to readjust her bun. She resumed her position with a small sigh, gingerly touching the bruise, “Does that hurt?”Jemmy closed his eyes, “Yeah, a little. I can take it from here, if you want.”“You think I’d rather be out there?” Dolley jerked her head toward the living room, “Wrong again. I’ll stay here with someone normal. Thanks.”“First time I’ve ever been called that,” Jemmy muttered sarcastically. “You’re going to have a righteous bruise in the morning.”“Along with every single muscle on fire,” Jemmy concluded, “I was supposed to catch a flight home tomorrow night. I hope I’ll be alright by then.”“You can stay for a bit longer, to recuperate, right? I’m sure Thomas wouldn’t mind.”Jemmy grabbed the water bottle and took a long sip, swallowing, “No. I can’t. I have to prepare for a conference. I’m speaking, unfortunately. I don’t want to think about it.”Dolley made a face, shifting the ice back, “Oof. I don’t envy you. When’s the conference?”“Second week of December. It’s in Philly, though, so that’s nice,” Jemmy smiled at her. She took the hint, “Oh? Well maybe I’ll show up. What’s the conference for?”“Up and coming law students. It’s supposed to help with networking, studying for the LSAT, figuring out what fields you want to go into-- a little bit of everything. It might be pretty boring, sadly,” Jemmy blushed again, “I just realized I never asked what you’re studying. Bryn Mawr, right?”“Yes. But I have no idea yet. Who knows. Maybe I’ll go to this conference and be blinded by your genius and decide to devote my life to justice,” Dolley smiled again, “Where’s it at? You’ll want a tour guide who’s familiar with the area. We should meet for lunch, at least.”“The Hyatt near Rittenhouse,” Jemmy took another drink of water to settle his nerves, “And I’d like that.”Dolley’s face lit up, “Oh, that’s a great area. Tons of stuff to do. Yeah, I’ll definitely need to show you around.” She pulled out her cell phone and made a quick note, slim fingers and purple manicured nails tapping rapidly against the screen. Jemmy eyed her again, a small voice urging him forward. How much worse could it get, anyway?  “So it’s a date, then?” He asked before he could stop himself. Dolley grinned at him, “Yes!” **** Alexander rolled onto his back, slowly opening his eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings and the headache at his temples. He rubbed at them, groggily checking the time, and the body at his side. At the sight of Aaron--shirtless, snoring, frowning in his sleep-- he grinned. He carefully lifted himself from the bed and ran a hand through his hair, reaching for the somewhat stale glass of water and taking a sip. The aspirin had helped a little bit, and he wasn’t feeling too terrible that morning-- but black coffee would help. He stood slowly and reached for his white tee shirt from the floor, slipped it on and made his way downstairs. It almost felt like home, by that point. Almost. Alexander knew where everything was: the coffee pods, the Keurig, the cream and sugar, for Aaron, he smiled. “Look at you, getting all domestic,” Alexander muttered to himself sarcastically, putting his chin in his fist on the counter, watching the coffee pot heat up.He straightened his back and looked around the kitchen at the mess they’d left from the night before. He picked up a wooden spoon, making a face at the dried food encrusting the tip. The turkey had sat out all night and looked even drier than it had when they’d first pulled it out of the oven. Two empty bottles: one wine, one vodka, stood next to each other by the sink. Alexander grinned again and grabbed them, carrying them outside to a neighbor’s recycling bin and dumping them with a clatter. “Just for you, Aunt Rhoda,” he mumbled, stepping back inside, shivering, “Now no one has to know your shameful secret.”He reentered the house just in time to be startled.Aaron skipped the last step on his way downstairs, landing with a thud in the living room, “What’s this about shameful secrets?”“Oh! You’re up-- I was just--”“--Nosing around the kitchen?”Alexander took a sponge to the counter, “Cleaning, actually. None of this is salvageable, by the way. The gravy looks...congealed.”Aaron yawned and made himself a mug of coffee, “Toss it.”“I’ve been using your neighbor’s bin,” Alexander admitted, shaking out a towel over the sink, “I can’t find yours.”“Oh, they’ll love that,” Aaron reached for their plates, washing them off and drying them before slipping them back in the cabinet. The two worked in productive silence for several more minutes. Alexander stole a glance at Aaron, intently scrubbing at a dried stain on the countertop, and then refocused his energies on rinsing out the wine glass in the sink. He gnawed on his bottom lip--sore from the night before-- wondering what the day would have in store for them. “What do you...I mean...when do you want to go back?” Aaron asked after he’d scraped up what he could, shoving some paper towels into a plastic bag.Alexander crossed his arms and leaned back on the counter, studying him for a moment.“What? What’s that look for?” Aaron shifted uncomfortably.  “Nothing,” Alexander waited, turning his back and absentmindedly wiping down a small spill of coffee, “...You seem to be pretty eager to get rid of me…”“Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”“Like what?”Aaron stepped closer to him, grabbing his hand and kissing it, “I had fun last night. I swear, I don’t usually do this. I’m not that kind of girl--”“--Shut up,” Alexander yanked his hand back and laughed, “Anyway, I guess I technically did what I came here to do. My laundry is clean. I could take it and fuck off, if you want. I don’t care. I definitely have shit I can catch up on while Bobby’s still away.”“I’m serious,” Aaron spoke again, and his guest turned to watch him, “I enjoyed myself. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I would. Glad you proved me wrong.”“All I had to do was suck your dick. Noted.”“Do you want a ride to the train station, or do you want to walk?” Aaron replied, quick, watching Alexander’s color deepen. “A ride would be nice. I’ll go gather my things,” Alexander brushed back past him, pausing to leave a kiss on his cheek, lowering his voice, “You have my number, too, you know. Just...shoot me a message. Whenever you want. I’ll make time.”Aaron faced him, narrowing his eyes, “Are you... asking me... to be friends with benefits?”Alexander shrugged, noncommittal, studying a small papercut on his thumb, “Could be fun.”“I’ll think about it.”“I bet you will.”Aaron chuckled and shook his head, leaving Alexander to ascend the stairs alone. In several seconds he heard the rustling of clothes and the zip of a duffle bag, and his guest reappeared with his belongings. Alexander set them on the floor by the couch, and plopped down on it, staring at the ceiling. He spoke up after a beat, “Did you hear about this conference in December? In Philly?”Aaron walked over, handed Alexander his mug, “In passing. You going? Jemmy’s going to be a speaker. He’s going to be presenting the paper he wrote.” “We. An essay we wrote,” Alexander corrected him with a charmingly smug smile, “You should come. I’d like to see you there. It would make me way less nervous, frankly. Don’t make me beg.”“What on earth am I going to do at some conference in Philly?” Aaron laughed, sitting on the edge of the couch, “What if I have plans already? Finals? Exams? Dates with people who don’t invite themselves over and crash at my beach house?”“I’ll make it worth your while.”“Jesus Christ,” Aaron covered his eyes. Then, glaring at him, “...Fine. I’ll go. But only because you asked me to.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Snow fell silently in the quiet streets around Aaron as he made his way, head down, hands in pockets, toward the tiny bookshop at the end of the alley. It had been one week since he’d been back on campus. One week since his night with Alexander, and one week since they’d decided to keep each other on the back-burner, at arm’s length, simmering. Once the dam had burst, Aaron couldn't stay away. His phone was glued to his hand in a constant stream of conversation with Alexander. They exchanged a handful of heady messages, late one Tuesday night, one am, while Jemmy slept soundly across the bedroom, and Aaron's skin felt like it was on fire.  Can I call you? I want to hear your voice. I can’t stop thinking about you. Let's meet up-- came Alexander’s rapid texts.“Can’t. Jemmy’s sleeping.”-- Aaron’s noncommittal response. And that was the last of it.But Aaron liked it that way, and he knew Alexander did too: the build-up, the refusal, and the inevitable explosion when they eventually fucked again. He side-stepped a small, slushy puddle of wet ice and hopped up onto a curb, bracing himself against a gust of wind and a burst of snow at his face. He tightened his scarf and flipped his collar up and opened the door to the bookshop, bell jangling. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Came a woman’s voice from the back. Aaron looked around. The shop was relatively new-- had only been there since the start of the fall semester-- but it already looked like it had seen better days. The front windows were dim and small, made even dimmer by a set of old curtains that hung in front of them and blocked out the street. It was a narrow building, crammed between an apothecary that had been in Princeton since Aaron was a boy and a local coffee shop. The tall, dusty stacks of books on each side of him made it feel even more claustrophobic; Aaron slid behind a waist-height shelf, heading back toward the non-fiction.  Western Philosophy 201. That was the class he’d decided to take in the spring, something to fill up his schedule and pass easily. It was Jemmy’s idea: “It will help your GPA, you know.” Aaron slipped a sheet of paper with the reading requirements from his pocket. It was the lowest level class he could find. He idly picked up a thin paperback, flipped through it. A display caught his eye, and his emotions flipped the wrong way.He picked up the book, opened it to the inside jacket cover and was staring down at the cold, unsmiling face of his own grandfather. “Oh God-- don’t waste your time.”Aaron turned to see a slightly older woman in her mid-thirties, maneuvering herself over to him. She adjusted her glasses, cleaning them with a tissue, then pressed them back up onto her nose. “Sorry?”“Oh-- sorry,” the woman echoed, leaning on a different stack of books, “I’m the owner.”“I see,” Aaron put the book down.“Are you a student? I can help you find whatever you need,” a slow realization crossed the woman’s face, “Oh...wait-- is that required reading? Sorry, I shouldn’t deter people from getting what they need.”Aaron smiled, “It’s not. It just caught my eye.”The woman made a face, “Thank God. I read it last summer. Kind of trying to...I don’t know. Expand my horizons. It was awful. So depressing.”“Yeah, I’m not really a fan of the…” Aaron searched for a word, “...religious zealots.”The woman nodded, ran a hand through her shoulder-length silver hair, “Sinner in the Hands of an Angry God- - I mean, Jesus, what year is it? Anyway. If you want to buy it I won’t judge you. Just...be prepared to feel thoroughly attacked.”Aaron laughed, “I think I’ll pass. You’re a terrible saleswoman.”She smiled, “Hey, I’m just being honest. Frankly, I’d rather read about Edwards, than his actual words, if that makes sense. I have a whole section here--” she trailed off, and Aaron watched her make her way toward a different section in the back labeled “True Crime”. She went on, “I have a couple books here about him and his family, if that’s more your thing.”Aaron followed her, curiosity piqued. He stood behind her and watched as she slipped a couple books, one by one, out from the shelf, frowning at them and tilting her head to the side to read the titles.The woman continued, putting a strand of hair behind her ear, “The whole family gives me the creeps. All four of them dying, one after another, in the span of two years? Leaving all that money to the uncle? And those poor kids.”Aaron regarded her, smile creeping across his face, “Yeah. Extremely weird.”“I think it was foul play. I think the uncle had them killed, for the money, then used his resources to avoid getting prosecuted for it,” the woman exhaled, shaking her head, flipping through one of the true crime books, “Religion makes people crazy, I’ve always believed that. Couple that with insane wealth--sad what people will do when money is involved but…”She trailed off. Then, remembering her point, she looked at Aaron, “What did you say the class was?”“I didn't,” Aaron answered, “It’s a pretty basic philosophy class. I’m just taking it to boost my GPA.”“Ah,” the woman nodded to herself, “In that case you might just want to stick with what the professor recommends. From my experience the exams are usually pretty cut and dry-- not a lot of room for creativity. Who’s on your list?”Aaron unfolded the paper again, reading, “Let’s see… Rousseau, Adam Smith, Kant, Descartes--”“--Oh jeez, that is pretty basic.”Aaron looked up and laughed again. The woman immediately put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound insulting--”“--No, really. It’s fine. I’m not… philosophy isn’t my thing. I’m a law student.”The woman made another face, “A law student who doesn’t care about philosophy? Isn’t that...kind of the whole point?”“I mean, I care about it,” Aaron grew warm around his neck, “I just don’t want to focus too much on abstract theories. Precedent is more important, trust me.”“Alright, alright,” The woman lifted a hand, “Well, our western philosophy section is in the back there, right next to the true crime stuff. I have to go organize some things in the back-- my name is Tea, like the drink-- give me a shout if you need anything, or ring the little bell at the desk.”Aaron watched disappear back behind the counter, slipping into a smaller room, humming to herself. He looked down at his paper, then back at the shelf in front of him, making his way over to the philosophy section, stopping briefly at the handful of books written about him and his family. It used to bother him. Now, it was just part of the noise. He grabbed four of the five books on his list, making a mental note to come back at a later date for the last one. His phone vibrated, jolting him.“...Hello?”“Hi,” came Alexander’s voice, “Sorry for calling-- I don’t think my texts are going through.”Aaron grinned, “Right. Because of your shitty little burner. Just buy a regular plan and join the rest of us in the twenty-first century.”Alexander laughed, “As soon as I get my grant money. What are you up to?”“I’m at this bookstore near the school. Thought I’d get a head start on spring semester.”“Wow...you’re actually being studious? Good thing I’m already sitting down.”Another short chuckle from the man on the other line; Aaron mimicked it. Then, “What do you want, Alexander?”A brief pause; Alexander’s lowered voice, “Do you really need to ask? Bobby’s out for the night. Come over.”“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Aaron responded, matching his tone and turning his back to the front counter. He steadied the warm swooping sensation in his abdomen, absentmindedly scratched a sticker on a book cover, “I wasn’t planning on going into the city tonight.”Alexander was undaunted, “Let’s meet in the middle somewhere.”“What? Like at a grimy little rest stop? A gas station bathroom?” Aaron laughed, studying the floor.“Hm,” Alexander sighed.“We’re going to see each other in another week. Shouldn’t you be preparing for the conference, anyway? Jemmy told me it’s going to be huge. He’s presenting your paper.”“God, the more you talk about what a bad idea this is, the more I want to do it. You’re not helping your point.”A trio of customers walked in, jingling the doorbell and distracting Aaron from the phone call. He turned again to see Tea greet them, giving them the same introduction, offering her help. He watched the conversation for a moment before re-centering his thoughts on Alexander. “My sister has an apartment in Newark,” Aaron replied, before he could stop himself. “She’s away for the month.”Alexander’s quickened breath, “Can we use it? I mean, is it locked?”“It’s a high rise with a doorman and a code, but I think I can get it from her. I’ve done it before.”“See? Look at you, solving problems all by yourself,” Alexander whispered, “Just email me the address and a time, because I won’t get your texts.”He hung up without saying goodbye, and Aaron’s muscles felt loose. “Did you figure it out?”Aaron started at the sound of the woman’s voice, nearly dropping the pile of books. Tea grinned, coming toward him, “Sorry-- didn't mean to startle you. The books you’ve got there-- are those the ones you’re going to get? I can ring you up with a discount since you’re a student.”“Oh, yeah, sorry…” Aaron muttered, following her to the counter.  **** Alexander sat at his desk, pretending to work, making minimal headway on his writing. It was useless trying to concentrate when he knew where he’d be in a couple of short hours. His phone lit up with Aaron’s email and he grinned at it. He spent the rest of the afternoon in a mental and physical whirlwind, straightening up, absentmindedly. He broke a glass, dropping it while trying to balance it on a plate, carrying to the sink. He swore and gingerly picked a piece of glass from the bottom of his sock. At six he showered and prepared himself for a night with Aaron. At six forty-five, he boarded the train. At half-past eight, he was slamming the door to the cab on a well-lit corner of downtown Newark, streetlights reflecting prettily off the puddles in the sidewalk. Alexander straightened his coat and pulled his bag closer, looking up and around him, studying the height of the buildings. A plane roared, taking off in the near distance and his eyes followed it until it disappeared behind a cloud. He came upon Aaron, waiting at the entrance to the apartment, cupping a glowing cigarette to his mouth. “You made it,” he smiled, blowing smoke.“So this is the place, huh?” Alexander looked up again, “Nice.”“Twenty-ninth floor,” Aaron leaned in and kissed his cheek in greeting, snubbing the cigarette out on the ground with his shoe. He opened the door, leading them into a brightly lit marble-and-chrome lounge area where a woman at the front desk greeted them. Alexander hung back while Aaron explained who he was, flashed an ID, and procured the elevator code. He turned and indicated Alexander follow him.“This way. She’s going to send us up,” Aaron said. He looked over, “I see you brought your laptop. What exactly are you expecting tonight?”Alexander answered him with a kiss, pushing him into the metal wall of the small enclosure. He pulled back after a moment, “In case I get bored.”“Come on, asshole,” Aaron grinned, stepping out of the elevator and down the hallway. They came upon the apartment; Aaron pulled out a tiny grey key fob, and pushed the door open. Alexander adjusted his eyes to the darkness: a breathtaking view of the city greeted them from a wall of glass floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. “Jesus, it’s cold in here…” Aaron muttered, feeling around for a light switch. Alexander dropped his bag by the door, walking toward the view, “This is incredible.”“Yeah, she keeps it for when she wants to be near New York, but not in it. Whatever. I don’t ask questions,” Aaron muttered, flicking on a low wattage lamp on a side table. “Turn that off,” Alexander demanded. “Why?”“The view,” he breathed, “I want to look at it.”Aaron obeyed and walked up behind him, putting his hands on Alexander’s shoulders, “You like that?”“Who wouldn’t?”Aaron leaned in, planted a line of kisses on the exposed skin of Alexander’s neck, breathing in the clean smell of the soap he’d used, charmed. Alexander talked on.“How much is this, per month?” He asked, touching a concrete column.Aaron stopped, laughed, off-guard, “What? I have no idea. She may have just bought it out-right. What, you want me to shoot her a text? ‘Hey, Sarah, me and my friend are about to fuck in your apartment without asking and he wants to know what your monthly budget looks like.’”Alexander turned, pushing him back onto the couch, straddling him and claiming his mouth. He breathed, grinning, “Tell her you’re a sugar daddy.”“Alexander…” Aaron faltered, mind emptying at the word. Alexander pressed into him and deftly unbuckled his pants, moving downward, locking Aaron into place with his stare and his mouth. It was as good as Alexander had remembered: the taste of him, the feeling of Aaron’s hands through his hair, the filthy, open-mouthed phrases Aaron moaned instead of being so smug and put-together. The way he forcefully guided Alexander’s mouth. Alexander paused-- pushed himself back up on his knees, kneeling in front of the couch between Aaron’s legs, taking the dive. “I want you to fuck me. Right here,” he whispered, coming in for another kiss. He felt Aaron tense and relax, giving in. Alexander pulled back again, “My bag-- by the door--give me a sec--”He stood and retrieved it, and Aaron waited, at once both aroused and nervous. Alexander returned and took control again, climbing back on top of him and guiding him, slowly at first, the non-stop tirade turning Aaron into a mess of inarticulate groaning. The sudden, tight feel of Alexander around him was enough to set him off, right there-- but Aaron kept it up and fucked him like he demanded, focused and hard. They lost track of time in the blue darkness, the only sound the shifting of their rhythmic weight on the couch and against their loose pants, pooled at their ankles--and the rushing, honking cars in the distance. Alexander seemed intent on the fantasy of it, the feeling of the city and the luxury, coming fast and loud; begging Aaron to do the same. Aaron tilted his head back and let himself go, calling out, gripping Alexander’s hips so firmly he swore he would leave bruises. They came down together, Alexander falling on top of him, shoulder at Aaron’s mouth, slow.“Yes... fuck ...that was so good…” Alexander muttered into his ear, rolling his hips, “...Just what I needed.”Aaron couldn’t find his words and put a finger at Alexander’s chin, bringing their lips together. He steadied his breaths for a moment, and Alexander pushed away.“You good?” The mean smile, “Did I fuck the words out of you?”“You did,” Aaron responded, returning it. He pointed to a box of tissues, “Hand me one of those, will you?”Alexander lifted himself off slowly and grabbed one for each of them, wiping himself off while Aaron did the same. He pulled his pants back on, zipping and buckling in less than a few seconds, then fell back onto the couch.“Now what?” Aaron turned his head to the side, “Am I allowed to turn the lights on now?”Alexander grinned, “You can do whatever you want. I got what I came for. I would like to enjoy the view for a little longer. Pretend it’s mine.”“I’m going to see if I can find the thermostat,” Aaron stood, muscles still weak. He made his way down a darkened hallway towards a glowing blue box on the wall. He hit a few buttons and set it at a passable temperature, “Don’t let me forget to turn this off before we leave. Last thing I need is a pissy text from my sister about her energy bill.”He came back to the living room to see Alexander silhouetted against the window, holding his laptop in one hand, waking it up with a finger. “Wifi password is on the fridge,” Aaron remarked idly, falling back onto the couch and pulling out his cell phone, “What are you working on?”“Finishing up an essay.”“The one you and Jemmy were supposed to present?”Alexander sat at a small table by the window, nodded, “No, a different one. He’s trying to help me on it, though. I’m adding a few last minute details. We’re...not really seeing eye-to-eye on some things. He keep trying to bring in these weird abstract concepts and I keep telling him it needs to be cut-and-dry or I’m gonna lose the plot--”Aaron walked over, curious, “--What’s it about?”Alexander’s gaze flicked up, “Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t care, anyway.”“I just asked, didn’t I?”Alexander exhaled, threw himself back into the chair, “This is something I’m working on for a business law course. An argument about the credit crisis of ‘08. Told you, real scintillating stuff.”“Want something to drink? I think Sarah might have tea around here.” Aaron walked back over to the kitchen and began opening and closing different cabinets, “No alcohol though, for sure. She’s the only person in the family who actually believes the abstinence line.”“Tea is fine,” Alexander responded, biting a nail, then setting back to work on the paper. Aaron went on, “When I was in high school I knew a guy who lost his fortune. Hancock. Real piece of work. He used to be a friend of the family, but I could never figure out what he actually did.”Alexander glanced at Aaron out of the corner of his eye, curious, “I bet you know a lot of people like that, in your world. Vaguely, mysteriously wealthy.”“I do,” Aaron poured the boiling water into two matching mugs, “You learn to just not ask questions. It’s kind of...tacky. I think we figured out, eventually, that his private equity firm went under. No idea what happened after that. He had four houses: one in Miami, one in San Diego, an apartment like this one in Manhattan and another ranch somewhere in Texas. Gotta admire the ambition, I guess.”Alexander accepted the mug, piqued, “What ended up happening to him?”Aaron sat across from him, shrugged, “Not really sure. I think he was supposed to serve some jail time, but ended up at one of the white-collar prisons. A couple months, tops.”“Damn. I’d like to interview him.”“Good luck getting anyone to talk,” Aaron grinned, searching him, “It’s a cute thought, though.”“I’m not trying to be cute.”“No one from that world is going to answer an email from some random student, prying. Trust me,” Aaron watched him over the edge of the mug, “Tell me more about your paper. Maybe I can help.”“I just can’t get over the lack of accountability,” Alexander leaned in again, scrolling, eyes darting across his screen.“The banks?”“The people involved,” Alexander’s gaze shot up, darkened, “Like your family friend, Hancock. What business did he have buying a bunch of property he couldn’t afford?”“Well, I mean, yeah, maybe he knew what he was doing. But I doubt some random family in Cleveland or whatever did. They were just trying to get a home,” Aaron reasoned, “And they were the ones who got caught in the crossfire, when it was all said and done.” Alexander pretended not to hear him, fingers darting across the keyboard, “People want to act all innocent, like they have no idea what they’re doing or where the credit comes from. Come on. They bought the lie, no one forced them to. No such thing as a free lunch. The sooner people learn that, the better.”“So your paper is about...how stupid middle America is?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and fought back the urge to smile. “I wouldn’t put it like that,” Alexander responded, somewhat insulted, “It’s more about...a defense of the measures taken by the Fed and the banks themselves. The treasury got so much shit for doing what had to be done. What on earth was he supposed to do? Let everything crumble and send the country into a fucking dark age? I mean, come on.”Alexander’s face turned red and he frowned at his screen. Something about it tapped into Aaron’s gut.“The banks...benefited from it all. In the end. At the expense of regular people,” Aaron reasoned, “My uncle was friends with a guy at one of those investment firms. He used to brag about it. At our church, no less.”“Does he still know him? Would he be open for an interview, do you think?” Alexander’s expression brightened. Aaron laughed, “You’re not seriously arguing in favor of the predatory lenders, are you? Jesus, Hamilton. I thought you were one of the little guys. What is the point?”Alexander made a face, “What the hell gave you that idea? Why in God’s name would I want to associate myself-- sorry, what about this is confusing? This is going to be my career. Someone has to do it.”“Sell their soul?”“No,” Alexander’s voice raised, “Protect business interests from financially illiterate clowns. And don’t use loaded terms like ‘predatory’. That’s misleading. There was nothing predatory about it. Just people making decisions. When the ducks quack, you feed them.”Aaron laughed, sputtering on a sip of tea, “What the hell are you talking about?”“It’s a saying. These businesses exist to provide a service, not act as some moral guidance. I thought you’d get it,” Alexander lifted a hand, motioning to the luxuriously furnished apartment around them, “Hello, what the hell do you call all this? Is this ‘the little guy’? Give me a break, Burr, like you give a shit.”“The investment firm guy made seven figures unloading subprime mortgages, behind closed doors, before anyone knew what was up, in one summer. Next thing I know his stupid face is on the news for being shady as hell and causing literally hundreds of people to lose their homes. You want to defend people like that?” Aaron’s breaths quickened, “Be my guest, I guess. But don’t expect to be liked.”“Whatever. Yeah. We’ll just all do whatever we want. No hard work, no ambition, just take the path of least resistance so you can afford your hideous McMansion in Topeka,” Alexander waved his hand again. He took another sip of his tea, which had gone cold. He set it down with a clank, turning it, “I don’t give a shit if I’m liked. That’s not my goal. I want--”He stopped, felt Aaron’s eyes on him.“--I want this,” He indicated to the room around him again, “I want security. The apartment, and the beach house. And the money. And I want to sit back and look at it all after a hard day’s work and feel like I earned something.”“Alexander…” Aaron exhaled.“What?”“This is…” He paused, “...This is... generational. This doesn’t happen because you prostitute yourself to a couple of desperate hedge fund managers and some rich old ladies. You need more than your bootstraps if you want to live that life, trust me. You need connections.”Alexander put a fingernail to his mouth, gaze darting across his glowing screen again, off-hand, “So connect me.”Aaron sighed, settling back into the chair, digesting the conversation bit by bit. He looked up at the other man across from him, intently reading and rereading his argument, stubborn.  **** Jemmy dropped his bags off onto the clean white linen of the freshly made bed, and looked around the hotel room.  “This will do nicely…” he smiled to himself, stretching. He walked over to the tall window and looked out, somewhat dismayed at the view: a solid, glass skyscraper directly across the street blocking out any view of the city. He sighed.He set himself up at the tiny desk on the far wall, opening his laptop to work on his speech. It was mostly finished, except for a few last-minute grammatical corrections, and a conclusion.“That’s the toughest part,” Jemmy muttered to himself.  He was scheduled to speak last, and this made him even more nervous. He scrolled up and down on the page: political factions, that’s what the argument was about. He tried not to think of who’d be in the audience, and tried not to think about whether or not they’d take it personally. It’s fine, you can say Alexander, came a different thought. Or Thomas, frankly.  His cell phone vibrated, and he picked it up before looking at the name on the caller ID.“Hey there! It’s Dolley. Sorry for calling instead of texting, I wasn’t sure if you had my number or not--”“--Oh, yeah. I did, no worries,” Jemmy’s mouth had gone dry again and he reached for a bottle of water.“I just wanted to ask if you were in Philly yet. I was planning on checking out this new bar, kind of near where you are--”“--Oh, yeah,” Jemmy repeated. He stood up, paced, closed his eyes, “Yep. I’m here. Just checked in to the hotel.”Dolley was pleasantly confident, “Great. Do you have plans? We could meet at Rittenhouse.”“Not tonight, actually--”“--Oh...okay, sorry…”“No! I mean, I don’t have plans tonight. I’d love to meet you.” Jemmy bit the inside of his cheek. Dolley’s chirping laugh, “Oh! Of course. Listen-- I’m about to hit a tunnel and lose service-- want to aim for eight? I have a couple things to do before then, but I should be done by eight. I can text you.” Eight? Jemmy thought about the night he planned on having: a shower, takeout at his tiny desk, mindless television to calm his nerves, and lights-out by nine-thirty. “You still there?”Jemmy coughed, cleared his throat, “Yes. Yeah, sorry. Eight is fine. Just...just let me know when you’re here.”“Great!” Dolley replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice, “See you then!”She hung up and Jemmy checked the time-- three hours until they met. He spent the better part of it fretting over nearly everything, his outfit, his speech, what he’d say and what he’d do, the darker thoughts about is illness. No, you can't think about it like that. Everything will be fine. You’ll be happy you went.  He showered and dressed, brushed his teeth and even washed his face. Felt silly doing it, the doubts creeping in. Dolley was waiting just as she said she’d be, on a rusted bench in the square, feeding pigeons. When she saw him, she looked up, stood, and smiled. “You’re right on time!”Jemmy shoved his hands into his pockets, “I hope I didn’t leave you waiting too long.”“Not at all,” Dolley linked arms with him, forward, leading him back toward the sidewalk. She lead him down a street opposite the way Jemmy had come, past smiling and laughing groups of people milling around outside of different establishments. She spoke about her day, about her errands, quickly and rapidly-- as if she’s nervous? Jemmy wondered, stealing a sidelong glance. The pair made their way towards a different alley, lit by the glow of a handful of shops and bars, neon signs reflecting dimly off the passing cars. “I’m just rambling-- I’m sure you don’t want to hear about the insane guests at my mom’s Airbnb,” Dolley corrected herself.“I do, actually! I bet she meets all kinds of people,” Jemmy insisted.“This is the place--” Dolley changed the subject, indicating her head toward one of the bars, “--It’s new. I haven’t been to this one yet, but I know the owner.”“Do you go to a lot of bars in the area?”She either didn't hear him, or ignored him, as she pushed through the heavy double doors and made her way through the crowded room to the bar itself. Jemmy winced at the loud, pounding music and the heavy stench of alcohol and close bodies, trying his best to keep up with her. When he reached the bar, she was already in friendly conversation with the owner, who demanded to see her ID.“I don’t care if we know each other, Dolley-- the law’s the law-- I’m not gonna go under because you think you’re too good,” He reasoned, grinning, leaning over the bar on two hands, “Did you forget your purse at a train station again? Jesus…”“No, I have it, I just think it’s annoying, that’s all,” Dolley returned the smile and flashed the ID.The owner took it and squinted, “This isn’t a fake, right?”“Of course not! What kind of girl do you take me for?”Jemmy sat down next to her and pulled his own ID out in preparation, but the bartender didn’t ask. He handed Dolley’s back to her and took her drink order-- two of the same light beers for each of them-- and Jemmy wondered what kind of energy he was giving off. “So, what do you think of Philly?” Dolley asked him, voice raised over the thumping music, bringing her glass to her mouth. “I haven’t really had a chance to explore. I just got in this evening, so--”“--What?”Jemmy swallowed and raised his voice over the new song that a patron had chosen to play at an obnoxious volume, “--I said I haven’t had a chance to explore, really. This is the first I’ve gotten out.” Dolley smiled, “How much time do you have?”“Just the weekend. I leave Monday morning.”“When’s the conference?”Jemmy took a longer swig, felt the beer go down in a burning lump, “It’s going on all weekend but my presentation is Sunday at four pm. Should be interesting. I’m going to listen to some speakers tomorrow, including a professor of mine.”Dolley nodded again and Jemmy couldn’t tell if she was bobbing along to the music, or truly listening to him. Her large, bright eyes darted all over the churning bar; red lips spread into a wide smile. “Some of the speakers are open to the public, you could come and listen, if you want,” Jemmy tried again, “I can get you a schedule.” She turned back to him, eyebrows raised, “I’ll think about it. I have some friends coming in from Albany tomorrow-- apparently they’re going to the same conference--”“--Yeah, it’s for the entire north east--”“--Anyway, she’s bringing some friends. Might try to meet up with them and then stop by if I get the chance,” Dolley stopped short, starting as she felt her cell phone buzz. She slipped it out and checked it, rolling her eyes, exhaling, “I have to take this-- do you mind if I step out for a sec?”Jemmy took another sip, “No, not at all--”She hopped off the stool, “--Alright, be right back--”He watched her slide back and forth between the crowds while the music thumped on, and Jemmy was left with his half-finished beer and the inarticulate, loud chatter of the patrons around him. He looked into the amber liquid; made circles on the napkin with the condensation on the glass.He felt a hand on his shoulder, looked up to see Dolley’s bright face again, “So sorry about that. That was...just a friend. Nothing serious. He had something to drop off for me.”“Oh? Where is he? Should we...buy him a drink, or…”Dolley snorted into her glass, swallowing, “Oh, God, no. He’s not like, a friend friend. He’s more like...a business partner, I guess you could say. Actually, that’s not really accurate. I owed him money. Just a little bit.”Jemmy finished his beer, turning to face straight ahead, “...I see.”Dolley hit him on the shoulder, laughing, “Come on, it’s not bad. Don’t worry about it.”“I didn’t say anything,” Jemmy let a small smile play on his mouth, trying not to let his nerves and curiosity get the better of him, “It’s not my business.”The pair were quiet for another couple seconds; Dolley ordered them two more of the same beer. “So, what are your friends from Albany like?” Jemmy changed the subject, feeling looser. “Well, I guess you could say ‘friend’-- unless she brings her annoying sister, which I doubt-- she’s a business major, I think, up at Suny.”“Sunny?”“State University of New York,” Dolley corrected, louder, and the music hit a crescendo, “Her name is Bets. She’s really smart. I think she’s trying to start a business or something. Anyway, she’s interested in the legalities surrounding non-profits, wants to cover all her bases, so to speak. I mentioned the conference this weekend and she said she wanted to check it out to see if she could meet with anyone about it.”“Alexander is a business law guy, she’ll probably want to meet with him,” Jemmy offered.Dolley shrugged, “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know why she doesn’t just ask her dad. Dude’s got connections to every business owner politician in Albany.” She made a face at her glass, holding it up to the light, “Is your glass clean? I swear to god this tastes… off.”Jemmy mimicked her, mood dampening at the sight of lipstick stains on the rim of his own glass.“Christ,” Dolley laughed, grabbing his arm, “Let’s get out of here before I see a rat.”The chilly night air hit him directly on his cheeks, and Jemmy didn’t realize how warm he’d become. Dolley talked on about this and that, and Jemmy’s head began to swim, centered around her and what other sorts of people she knew. He struggled with responses, trying to keep up, as they made their way down a different side-street. Dolley explained the area-- where to find the best coffee, where to avoid after dark, where to catch the subway-- he wanted to know as much as she could tell him.Dolley stopped by a bench, straightened a wrinkle in her pants and straightened her heeled-boot, checking the time, “God, it’s only ten. What do you feel like doing?”Jemmy stifled a yawn.“Don’t tell me you’re ready for bed. There’s a club a few blocks over-- I’ve been meaning to check it out--”“I don’t--”Jemmy struggled with how to tell her he did not want to go to a club, that he’d rather take her to a coffee house, somewhere they could have a conversation without the interruptions of obnoxious music or chattering patrons elbowing them to the side. Images of crowded dancefloors, strobing lights and more uncomfortable yelling flashed inside Jemmy’s head and he gently pried himself from her hand.“Dolley-- I’m really not---the club type. Really. I just want to be honest.”She stopped in her tracks, concerned, as if she’d never considered that. She put a finger to her bottom lip in thought. Then, slipping a tiny baggie out of her pocket, half-hidden, “I know something that will make it more fun for you.”“Come on,” Jemmy blanched.“It’s just coke. You only do a little. It’s like coffee.”
“It’s nothing like coffee.”
She rolled her eyes and slipped it back into her pocket, hiding a smile, “Alright, alright. You’re straight-laced. That’s cute. Do you really want to go back to your hotel room now? I won’t be offended, I swear.”Jemmy relaxed, “Thanks. I’m glad you get it. I’m just… incredibly nervous, frankly.”Dolley began walking with him in the direction of the hotel, “Yeah, that makes perfect sense. I wouldn’t want to get up and give a speech in front of a bunch of people. I think it’s pretty brave of you.”They turned the corner and Dolley stopped, letting out a short gasp, pointing.“‘Readings by Luna’? We should totally do it.”Jemmy let out a low chuckle, “...I don’t know… that stuff seems kind of...bullshit.”“Of course it’s bullshit, but it’s still fun,” Dolley reasoned with another wide smile, “I’ll pay for it. Let’s see how good she is. Come on, just do this with me, and then I’ll leave you alone to go back to your room and fall asleep with the news on like a sixty year old man.”Jemmy laughed in spite of himself.The tiny shop front was nearly obscured by a badly parked U-Haul truck, halfway up onto the curb. Signs covered the door explaining the services offered: tarot cards, palm readings, birth charts-- “Look, it says they’re private and confidential”, Dolley muttered drolly, opening the door. It was a cluttered little place, and Jemmy’s throat immediately began to itch with the dust that accumulated on some of the displays. He stifled a few sneezes into his sleeve before following Dolley to the counter. “Hello?” She called, to no answer. “Maybe they’re closed. It is getting pretty late.”“The door was unlocked, there was no sign…” Dolley trailed off, picking up some crystals for sale that sat in a box by an unguarded cash register. She scoffed, “Twenty-five dollars for a rock.”“Hey, it was your idea,” Jemmy laughed, taking it from her and examining it, “I don’t know, it’s kind of pretty. “An attractive, smoky-eyed woman appeared from behind a curtain in the back, long, dark hair pulled into a braid at her side, “Oh! Hello, I’m sorry-- I didn’t hear you come in. How can I help you?”“Are you the owner?” Dolley smiled, “Are you still open? Do you have time for a couple readings?”“I am,” Luna bit her dark lip, thinking. Then, “Technically, I’m closing up. But I think I can squeeze one more in. What are you looking for?”Dolley and Jemmy exchanged looks. Dolley spoke first, “We’ve...never done this before. We’re not really sure what to expect.”Luna eyed them shrewdly, “What’s your budget? Cash only.”Jemmy nudged his date, under his breath, “Come on. It’s a scam.”“Sixty bucks,” Dolley answered.“I can do one tarot reading. It’s fifty, plus a tip.”“Fifty?” Jemmy sputtered, before he could stop himself. Luna raised a delicate brow, eyeing him up and down, “Yeah-- sorry, what’s the going rate near you?” Dolley cut in, “He’s being difficult. Fifty’s fine. We’ll take it-- or-- however this works.”Luna cocked her head to the side, wordlessly indicating they follow her further into the back. Jemmy looked around as he passed some of the more strange items for sale: more crystals, bones that looked real, necklaces with oddly-shaped pendants, curling plants and dry herbs. He gingerly touched a purple pillar candle with what he assumed were alchemy symbols etched up the side, accidentally toppling it. “You break it, you buy it,” Luna called out to him, seating herself at a small table.Jemmy muttered an apology and set it back upright before taking a seat across from Luna, next to Dolley. Her confidence still undaunted, she sat up straight.“So, how does it work?”Luna pulled a pack of cards from a cluttered shelf behind her, “Depends. Who’s getting the reading, tonight?”“He is,” Dolley tilted her head to the side, at Jemmy, before he could object.Luna made a face at him,  shuffling the cards and shrugging, “Mr. Skeptical? Okay-- I’ve seen stranger. Think about the deck. Think about what you want to know, how you’re feeling at this moment. What’s your name?”“Jemmy.”“Alright, Jemmy. Put your hand on the deck for a moment,” Luna directed. Jemmy obliged. She closed her eyes, seemingly steadying herself, then, opening them and fanning the cards face-down across the table in a line, “Alright. Now pick six.”Dolley grinned broadly at him. Jemmy pursed his lips and slid six cards out from the line. Luna spoke on, “This is a major arcana reading. The six cards represent six aspects of your life, right now. The first card you touched represents how you feel about yourself. The second, what you want most at the moment. The third is your fears, the fourth is what’s going well for you and the fifth is what’s working against you. The last card, the sixth, is the likely outcome of all these factors combined.”“So...how’d I do?” Jemmy asked, trying to follow along while her hands flipped the cards rapidly. He stole a glance at Luna, whose brows knitted in concentration. She exhaled, low, almost concerned. Jemmy cleared his throat, “It is...bad?”“It’s never just good or bad.” Luna touched the first card: an angel yielding a goblet of water, “This is temperance. You’re going through some tense times with your relationships now. I’m thinking you’re feeling torn in two directions.”Jemmy raised his eyebrows, and Dolley made a noise, tapping him. Luna touched the second, “What you want most right now, is some peace and quiet. This is the hermit.”“Well… who doesn’t,” Jemmy reasoned, suddenly intrigued. He watched her point to the third. “This is the wheel of fortune-- an interesting fear,” Luna looked almost impressed, “Shows a fear of the unknown, a fear that your luck is about to turn downward. Fear of fear itself, that sort of thing. But you shouldn’t be afraid-- the sun will rise again, after all.”Jemmy sat quietly, trying to place each card in the context of his own life without a confirmation bias. He exhaled and readjusted himself against the seat. “The fourth here, justice, plays a bit off of the wheel of fortune card. You’re scared of failing, but justice is working in your favor,” Luna lifted her eyes, “You a student?”“I am.”“What major?”Jemmy felt a dumb smile spread across his mouth, lifting a hand lazily, “...Law.”Luna grinned, “Ah ha!”“I like her-- the woman on the next card,” Dolley interjected, “What’s her deal?”“The high priestess,” Luna explained, “She represents what’s working against you. In this case, I would say it’s your insecurity, that little ‘Doubting Thomas’ voice--”“--Doubting what?” Jemmy interrupted.“Doubting Thomas. He was a disciple that didn’t believe Jesus...or something,” Luna replied, “It’s just a saying. Anyway, ignore your insecurities. You’ll be better for it.”Dolley exchanged another look with him, biting back a grin. “The last card--”“--Oh, Jesus,” Jemmy turned his head to get a better look at it, “I don’t like the look of him.”“It’s the devil-- but don’t worry. It’s  not as bad as it looks. Basically, he’s a warning. If all the previous cards have been positive, which, if you ask me, they have, then he represents a new commitment. A beneficial one, if that wasn’t clear. Don’t worry about the chains,” Luna pointed to the card. She lifted her eyes, looking back and forth between the pair, “Could mean a romantic relationship, made strong because of challenges, not in spite of them.”Jemmy’s face warmed again and Dolley answered before he could, “That’s really cool. I honestly wasn’t expecting much but… I kind of love this.”“It’s all in the cards,” Luna sat back, indicating toward them. She crossed her arms and waited, “I’d offer more but...well…”“Oh! Of course, sorry--” Dolley fished out her cash, and paid. Luna counted it and smiled, “--No worries. Come back any time. Before ten-thirty, I mean.”In another few minutes they were outside again; voices and laughing night owls echoing off the sides of the wet buildings. “That was...enlightening, I guess,” Jemmy said as they crossed the street, “What do you think?”“Man...I don’t know what to think. I still don’t buy it one-hundred percent...but that thing about being torn between two worlds, that kind of felt prescient,” Dolley replied, hopping over a large pothole, onto the sidewalk.Jemmy kept his thoughts to himself as they reached the front doors of the hotel. He paused once in the lobby, suddenly nervous. Dolley looked around, “What floor is yours?”“Eleventh, it’s pretty nice,” he dug his card out from his wallet.“What’s the view like?”“Ah...well, um--”“--No fucking on the first date,” Aaron called out, appearing from a hallway to their right, holding a small bag of chips and a bottle of iced tea, pointing at the pair playfully. Jemmy swore and dropped his room key, and Dolley let out a peal of laughter and walked over to him. “You--” she greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, “--Mind your own business.”“Aaron…? What are you doing here…?” Jemmy asked, looking around, confused, “Are you...speaking at the conference?”“Here with a friend,” Aaron answered cryptically, then, “You two look cozy. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”“I was just walking Jemmy home. We went to one of the new bars in the area. Then had a psychic read our tarot cards,” Dolley chirped. “...Okay then,” Aaron grinned, looking at both of them. “You look different,” Dolley frowned playfully, regarding Aaron, stepping back, “New haircut? Outfit? Did you quit smoking?”“Christ no.”Jemmy cut in, “Who are you here with?”Aaron popped a chip in his mouth, smiling, “Why do you care?”At this, Jemmy’s question was answered when a red-faced and irritated Alexander rounded the same corner Aaron had come down moments before, struggling with a heavy-looking duffel bag and a slim laptop case. “Could I get a hand, here?”Aaron was at his side in seconds, muttering an apology. Dolley leaned in, “Guess that answers your question, huh?”Jemmy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, giving up, “I’m too tired for this.”“Hey-- I had a great time tonight,” Dolley grabbed his sleeve, “I’d really like to see you again, if you have time, you know, sometime this weekend. We can go to some place quieter, if you’d like.”Jemmy returned her smile, “Yes. I’d like that. You have my number.”She nodded and came in for a kiss on his cheek, pulling back and blushing, “Good night.”“...Well maybe you shouldn’t have packed so many goddamned ties, Hamilton. I mean, Jesus Christ, what is this, Men’s Warehouse…?”Aaron’s voice cut into her thoughts as she watched Jemmy disappear into the elevator. Dolley turned to see what the other two students were arguing about: a broken zipper. Aaron’s low harangue; Alexander’s pink cheeks. “You’re going to be in Philly for forty-eight hours. What, are you planning on putting on a fashion show?” Aaron knelt next to the bag, attempting to shove a glossy black dress shoe into the duffel bag, “How many pairs of shoes--”“--I have to see what everyone else is wearing, Burr. I have to match, and blend in. I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb--”“--Too late,” Aaron grunted, and finally unstuck the zipper. He exhaled loudly and stood back up, straightening himself out. He caught Dolley’s eye, “Do you see this? Madness.”“Hi, Dolley,” Alexander waved, his expression changing into something more friendly.She walked over to them, somewhat sardonic, “Good to see Jemmy’s got his friends supporting him.”“I’m going to get settled in our room,” Alexander cut in, flashing the room key, “Nice to see you, Dolley. We’ll all have to meet up for lunch or something.”He turned and was gone in a flurry of movement, hoisting both bags onto his shoulders. Dolley raised an eyebrow and turned her gaze slowly toward Aaron. She crossed her arms.  “...Our room?”Aaron popped another chip in his mouth, “Don’t.”She flattened her gaze, facing him. Aaron’s voice raised in tone, defensive.  “What? He’s fun.”“He’s a peevish little shit,” Dolley laughed, then, “I didn’t know you two were seeing each other. And whatever happened to no fucking on the first date?”Aaron backed toward the elevator, expression both knowing and mischievous, calling out to her across the lobby, “We’re not dating.” The doors slid closed, and he was gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Alexander picked up a deep red apple from the breakfast buffet and bit into it. He made a face, “...Mealy.”Jemmy focused on his laptop screen, “If you’d been here earlier like you were supposed to there would have been more than just old fruit.”“Don’t start,” Alexander swallowed, “I was up late.”“...I don’t want to think about it.”Alexander shrugged, “Relax. Don’t be so uptight. How was your night?”“Do you have your notes? I left mine upstairs. I can run and get them, but--”“--Dolley’s pretty. Aaron has good taste in women,” Alexander said matter-of-factly, sliding his laptop from it’s bag and gently pushing aside his napkin and apple, “How did your date go?”Jemmy sighed, “Fine.”“Only fine?”“Alexander, we have a lot to cover before tomorrow afternoon. Did Jay send you his notes? He was supposed to CC me on the email but I never got one.”“Aaron said she’s fun. What did you two do last night?” Alexander dropped his voice, shadow of a grin on his mouth, “Did you invite her up to your room? If not, you should have.”Jemmy looked at him again, “Can we please get back to the task at hand? What do you have for me?”Alexander turned his computer; Jemmy’s eyes scanned it.“Just what we talked about with Jay last month,” Alexander went on, taking another small bite of the apple, chewing as if it pained him. “Were you able to pick up the Montesquieu?”“The bookstore was out of it,” Jemmy replied, “Had to get a digital copy.”“Uhg.”“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Jemmy looked up. “Let’s hit the basics. First point, I’ll open with ‘a republic can survive as something other than a tiny nation-state only if’--”“--Good morning, gentlemen,” Aaron interrupted, sitting at the table with them, neatly dressed and showered, “How is breakfast?”“They didn’t put anything out but some stale bread and old fruit,” Alexander grumbled.“I told you, you overslept. If you’d been down at seven-thirty like we discussed--” Jemmy responded. Aaron spoke over him, looking at Alexander,  “You know what-- I think I noticed a little café about a block over. I can go buy us something, if you’d like.”“Oh, would you? That would be so kind. Thank you.” Alexander replied. 
“Is anyone listening to me?” 
Alexander took another tiny nibble on his apple, “Yes, yes-- sorry. I can’t think on an empty stomach. You have my notes. Build off of them. I give you full permission to plagiarize.”Aaron smiled to himself, standing to leave again.“Plagiarize? I will be doing no such thing. You and I put in equal work here--” Jemmy put a finger on his notebook.“--I was kidding, Jemmy,” Alexander laughed, nudging him, “Jesus, would you lighten up? I don’t mean to suggest I did all the work.”Jemmy shot him a look. Then, grudgingly, bringing his gaze back to the laptop screen, “...I do like the phrase, ‘an infinity of little, jealous, clashing, tumultuous commonwealths’-- makes it sound very cliquey.”Alexander shrugged, “Well. They say write what you know.”“Hm, “ Jemmy grunted. “So, you’re up at four pm tomorrow. Who else? Mr. Washington, right?”Jemmy pulled out a pamphlet, “Yeah-- he’s going to finally give his presentation about large scale farming with solar panels. The one he was supposed to give at William and Mary last month.”“I’d like to see that,” Alexander yawned, stealing a glance at the television that flashed on the wall behind the empty breakfast bar. Jemmy nodded, “Should be interesting. He owned an industrial farm for a while. He works for… Christ, I can’t remember. I should probably look that up…”“--Head of the spices and teas division for Aegis,” Alexander replied, checking his phone, “Well good for him. A farmer-turned-businessman. Should be an interesting speech. Who else?”“...How did you know that?”“What? I saw his name on the website and it looked a little familiar, so I looked into him a bit. Did some research. His division is outperforming all the others in the company. They’re looking at finding a new CEO, and he’s the number one candidate according to the rumors. He’s doing something right,” Alexander replied, “Who else?”“Uh, let me see...Dr. Franklin, I think. Some other names I’m not familiar with.”Alexander focused on his work, tapping a pen, rapid fire, against the edge of his laptop, “If it’s any consolation, with the number of big names speaking, I doubt anyone will even notice you. I mean that nicely.”“...Thanks…”“What? You said you were nervous. This should help things,” Alexander offered. “What would help me is just getting through this with minimal drama and focusing on the speech at hand,” Jemmy tapped his laptop again, “Now, back to the presentation. Once you’ve laid out Montesquieu’s argument, I can set to work addressing it point-by-point--”The sound of a news alert on the television interrupted them; a bundled man standing in the middle of the street providing a muffled weather report about an on-coming snowstorm. The pair quieted and watched it for a while, losing track of time. Alexander turned in his seat, eyes darting this way and that across the large screen. A pit began to form in Jemmy’s stomach; the weekend would be a mess, one way or another.Aaron’s frame stepped in front of it, setting down a paper bag from a nearby bakery. He unraveled his scarf, “It’s so fucking cold. They couldn’t have had this conference in June?”Alexander peered into the bag, “What did you bring me?”“Cherry danish,” Aaron smiled, handing it to him. “How did you know that’s my favorite?” Alexander grinned back. “Aaron, can you move, I want to see the weather,” Jemmy craned his neck, and Aaron complied. Aaron sat back down and handed him a bagel, “It’s nothing. It’s going to pass over. It’s too early in the season for a huge blizzard.”“But what if it doesn’t?” Alexander asked, mouth full. “We’ll be fine, Hamilton,” Aaron insisted, “What are you two working on?”“Trying to work on,” Jemmy muttered. “Jemmy’s presentation tomorrow. Did you know Washington is giving a speech?” Alexander addressed Aaron directly, tapping him on the arm, “The guy from Aegis.”Aaron grunted, taking a bite of his toast. He spoke after several seconds of chewing, “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Friend of a friend of my uncle.”“Jesus you really do know everyone,” Alexander replied softly, awestruck. “I don’t know him, my uncle does. Tangentially,” Aaron insisted, taking a sip of coffee.“Whatever the case, we’re competing with some pretty heavy hitters so it would be great if we could just focus,” Jemmy raised his voice slightly, “Alexander-- your essay addressed the destructive role of factions. I will provide a brief summary of your argument, as you stated, and then I will come in with this--” He showed Alexander his laptop again, a neutral-colored Power-point presentation on the screen. Alexander eyed it. “Fine. Are you going to add images?”“What? Like...what kind of images?” Jemmy asked.“I don’t know. But it would help break up the information,” Alexander insisted. “Montesquieu mentioned Lycia as a good example of a confederated republic. You could add a picture of that.”“What, like a postcard? What are you talking about?” Jemmy replied, exasperated.Aaron watched the two spar back and forth with a small grin. “All I’m saying is, you’re dumping a lot of information on people at once. It would help if you broke it up a bit. It’s psychology.”“What 101 class did you learn that in, Alex?” Jemmy shot back. He shut his laptop, “I’m going back upstairs to work on this by myself. You’re obviously distracted. Fine.”Alexander watched him stand, “Don’t be like that--”“Jemmy, come on…” Aaron echoed. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care. I have most of this done anyway. I was just hoping to pick your brain to see if you had any last  minute things to add but you’re apparently more interested in the weather and photography.” He turned and adjusted his laptop bag on his shoulder and made his way back to the elevators. Aaron’s eyes followed him; Alexander spoke first, heated. “What has gotten into him? You’d think I was sitting back and forcing him to do everything. What a joke. It’s his stupid presentation,” Alexander leaned forward in his seat and picked a small piece from his danish, putting it to his mouth, “He wants help? I’ll give him help.”Aaron smiled, “What is that supposed to mean?”“I have free time this semester. My classes are wrapping up next week. I’m just going to keep sending him essays until he can’t see straight.”“Your payback is to...help him?”Alexander gave him a look, “Don’t overthink it.”“I’m not really sure what ConLaw has to do with mergers and acquisitions,” Aaron’s smile stayed in place as he brought the paper coffee cup to his mouth. “What are you doing today?” Alexander changed the topic.“If the weather stays decent I’m going to walk around the area. Might do some Christmas shopping.” Alexander nodded quietly, making notes on his computer. The conversation died, interrupted only by the sounds of the kitchen staff cleaning the breakfast area and the low mutterings of the television behind them. Aaron finished off the last of his bagel, thinking. “If you’re not too busy, you should join me.”“Maybe,” Alexander shrugged, almost brusque, never taking his eyes off his screen, “Jemmy has me worried now. I really need to concentrate this weekend. If I can make a good enough impression on some of the guests I can wrangle an internship for next spring. Make some good connections.”“Surely you can spare an hour or two…” Aaron muttered, wiping a wet spot from his shirt, “...There’s a little German market that popped up for the holidays, just a street over. I can buy Sarah something untenable. We can go try weird spreadable meats.”A grin slowly spread across Alexander’s features, “As...tempting as that sounds. I really can’t. Truly.”“What if I buy you lunch?”Alexander lifted his eyes, sighing, “You’re pushy. This sounds like a date.”“Oh, Christ. Never mind then.”The front doors to the lobby slid open and a small group of similarly-aged students stepped through. Alexander eyed them, figuring they were in town for the same conference. Behind them, a slightly older man followed, and Alexander called out, waving, “Jay!”He looked over and smiled, returning the wave. Jay made his way towards them, loosening his scarf and removing his hat. Alexander stood in greeting, pulling out a chair for him, “Jay, you made it. I thought you were coming in last night?”Jay shook his head, “I barely made it. The weather is a mess further north. They were talking about changing the dates for this. Didn’t you get the email? I forwarded it to you.” He nodded in Aaron’s direction, “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jay.”Aaron shook his hand, “Aaron.”“Are you a speaker?” Jay asked him.Alexander interjected, “No. He’s here for moral support. For me.”Jay eyed them, “I see. Well. If anyone needs moral support it’s Madison. Where is he? I was hoping to go over some notes.”“He went back up to his room. He’s...in a mood. It’s a long story,” Alexander scooted his chair in, waking his computer with a scroll of his finger against the trackpad, “Did you say you emailed me about the conference being postponed? I didn’t get it.”“You didn’t get his notes about the essays, either,” Aaron added helpfully. Jay exhaled, “Really? I swear to god... I sent them both. My apologies, Alex. It’s my phone. Once I leave the city my service is so spotty. I need a new one. I’ll send them again.”“Where were you?” Alexander asked. Jay cleared his throat, “Visiting Albany with Sarah, and some of our friends. That was them-- coming in, a few minutes ago.” He inclined his head back to the lobby door, “I’ll introduce you once they get settled. What floor are you on?”“Eleventh. Room Eleven forty-four,” Alexander answered.Jay nodded appreciatively, “I bet the view is spectacular. Glad you’re treating yourself, Alex. You deserve it.”The conversation fell silent again and Aaron waited for Alexander to correct his friend. It was Aaron’s name on the bill, Aaron’s name on the credit card, Aaron’s insistence on a suite with a view. He studied the lie on Alexander’s face: a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, a quickened pulse, a furrowing brow. Jay moved in his seat, pulled out his phone and scrolled through it idly. Aaron wondered what Alexander would have to say for himself once they were alone in the hotel room again-- if he’d say anything about it at all. The moment passed.“Ah...looks like they’re coming back down,” Jay’s face brightened, checking a text message. At this, the group of students made their way toward the lounge area where the three men were sitting, and Jay turned in his seat to greet them, and introduce them. “You know my wife, Sarah,” Jay stood and motioned toward a strikingly pretty woman. “I’m Gouv,” a broad-shouldered, taller man held out his large hand, and Alexander and Aaron shook it in turn. He gave the group one final smile and lifted a large duffel bag onto his arm, "Sorry to run off-- see you all in a bit"Sarah stepped forward with a hand on a petite girl with dimples and dark features, “This is my friend Bets.”Aaron and Alexander echoed two “hello’s”, smiling. “You two were smart for getting here last night. We almost drove off the road,” Bets said, eyeing the pair, landing on Aaron, “You...look familiar.”Aaron raised his eyebrows, “Oh?”“Are you from Albany? Your family?”“Connecticut and New Jersey.”Bets blinked, nodding, “Never mind. Thought you might be a cousin or something. I can’t keep track.”“Yeah I can see it,” Sarah interjected idly, staring at her phone. “Do you...lose track of cousins a lot?” Alexander cut in with a smile. “You’d be surprised. Last year my sister went on a handful of dates with a guy without knowing they were second cousins. He showed up at a family reunion last summer and she freaked.” Bets replied, leaning on the back of a chair.“Fear not. We are free to date,” Aaron said between laughs. Bets turned red, returned the laughter, “Sorry-- that wasn’t... I didn’t mean--”“--Where’d your other friend go? The tall one,” Alexander interrupted, looking around, “Gouv, I think his name was?”“Room inspection,” Jay offered, sitting in a nearby lounge chair and indicated Sarah do the same. “He complained the whole way about this place. He grew up north of here and I guess had a bad experience in the city at some hotel as a kid. Roach problem. I don’t know.” He concluded, shaking his head. “He’s...picky.”“Sounds like we have quite a crew this weekend,” Alexander replied, looking back at his computer. He exhaled, letting his shoulders fall, “I should really go find Jemmy. I feel bad now.”“How much more of that do you have?” Jay called over to him. “I think I can be done by this evening.” Alexander answered. “Can’t speak for Jemmy, though.”“He’s planning on seeing Dolley,” Aaron offered. “What time?” Alexander began packing his things. “I don’t know. Dinner time? She just mentioned it to me in passing.”With a small, inarticulate grumble, Alexander hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and headed back to his hotel room, feeling all eyes on him.  **** Alexander sat hunched over at the small desk by the expansive window in the suite, letting the dull mid-afternoon winter sun cast a pale glow into the room. He scrolled, feeling somewhat guilty. In front of him, on his screen: multiple tabs open regarding the other students. The surface reasoning for it: you’re going to need to find some common ground, something to talk about. It’s polite, what you’re doing, actually, being interested in other people. The real reason: you’re a nosy little sneak.“They wouldn’t have posted anything that they don’t want people looking up,” Alexander talked to himself and took a sip of room-temperature water, eyes landing on the mini-bar covetously. No, don’t. Aaron would see it on the bill and he might be angry. No he wouldn’t. He might. Focus. He looked at the first window: Jay. Alexander already knew most of his story. Law firm. Married Brock’s eldest sister. He’d been working for Jay for almost a year. Jay listed his alma mater, his work experience, his hobbies. “I didn’t know he played tennis and rode horses,” Alexander muttered. The thought coalesced in his mind as a bit of a wealth cliché. He made a note to ask Aaron. Either way, it would be something he’d have to research. Next window: Gouv Morris. Strange name, stranger background. Alexander gathered from his pictures and About Me section that he was an only child who’d grown up in some Philadelphia suburb in a sprawling house on multiple acres. Columbia grad, international relations. Studied abroad in Paris for a semester. Alexander’s mouth twitched-- that would be something he’d love to do but the thought of more than six hours on a plane made his chest clench. The first ride was bad enough. He looked further down on Gouv’s profile at his hobbies where nothing was listed. Further still, and none of his previous jobs were listed either. Some extracurricular activities: debate teams, UN clubs. Interests: French cuisine and Formula One racing. Alexander raised his eyebrows-- what on earth.He clicked around some more, landing on Bets-- Elizabeth-- Schuyler. She seemed approachable enough. Her pictures indicated a larger family though he couldn’t put an exact number on the amount of siblings. She seemed to be closest to two sisters, an elder and a younger, the attractive trio appearing in most of her pictures. “The genetics of this family,” Alexander muttered under his breath. He stopped at a picture of a man who appeared to be Bets’ father, stern and unsmiling, protective. “Well. Guess he’d have to be.”Bets liked volunteer work: schools, her local church. Fundraisers for medical research. She liked hiking and running, animals, traveling-- and hoped to one day have a large family and a career. Alexander fell back into his seat, pen cap in his teeth. The one thing they all had in common: money. He stared out the window at the moment at the metal skyline, made even more dull by the ominous, dark grey snow clouds in the distance, rolling in from the Northeast. He looked back at his screen and opened the final tab: the weekend’s itinerary. This caused him the most pain. There would be lunches and dinners amongst the attendees at the hotel’s five-star restaurant-- not required, per se, but, Alexander despaired-- his absence would be noted. An impressive paper, an eloquent speech, could only go so far. There was a professionalism to it, a way for Alexander to show off his mind, but not his personality. A presentation wasn’t going to forge a friendship; a few laughs over eighteen dollar Manhattans was. The difference between a handshake and a business card, and a job with a future. At approximately five-thirty pm, Alexander was shaken from a particularly enticing article on his laptop by a knock at his hotel room door.“Alex? You in there?” Jemmy’s muffled voice.“One second--” Alexander slammed the computer shut and opened the door, stepping aside and indicating Jemmy come in.“I just wanted to...look, I know I stormed off this morning,’ Jemmy began, almost rehearsed. Alexander waved a hand as the door shut and he replied while making his way back to the desk, plopping into the chair, “Don’t think about it. I know you’re stressed. I think the less we obsess over the presentation, the better it will go. More… fluid. Conversational.”“I agree. I think that would be best.” Jemmy replied. “I just wanted to stop by and check in before I go out.”“Dolley?” Alexander’s face spread into a grin. “Please don’t make a big thing out of it. It’s only our second real date.”Alexander put both hands up in mock-surrender, “I won’t say a thing. Where are you guys going?”Jemmy straightened his coat, and only then did Alexander notice how he was dressed: his best shirt, a pair of pants that looked freshly ironed, a hint of cologne, a clean shave. He fought down a good-natured chuckle. Jemmy answered, “She knows a new steakhouse that opened a few blocks over. We’re going to grab dinner and some drinks.”“No all-night raves and a BDSM club?”“Alex.”Alexander laughed, “I’m teasing. Godspeed. You look nice. Have fun.”“I just wanted to firm up plans for tomorrow afternoon. I figured we could meet up at three and do a  bit of last-minute tweaks if necessary. I know I’m going to be doing most of the speaking but I think I’d feel a bit better if I had you as a second pair of eyes,” Jemmy said, “I don’t know what your plans are but I need you there at three.”Alexander nodded, “Three pm. I’ll be there,” and Jemmy gave him one last nod before slipping back out the door. Alexander’s buoyant smile faded and he spun back to his screen, opening the laptop and resuming his research. Another twenty minutes passed before the hotel room door opened again, and Aaron appeared, bundled in a scarf and long coat, holding several bags full of-- Alexander couldn’t even begin to guess. He walked over and took them and set them down on the bed. “Looks like you had a busy day,” Alexander helped Aaron out of his scarf and coat. He craned his neck to look at the purchases, some of which looked to be from department stores, “No strange German meats, I hope.”“No. I thought better. What are you working on over there?”Alexander shut the laptop again and gave him his full attention, “Nothing important.”“Good,” Aaron nodded and smiled to himself, pleased, “If you’re not busy...""I never said that.""We’re going out to eat with some of the conference attendees later this evening.”Alexander’s nerves kicked in, “What? When? Who’s going to be there? I--”“--Now, before you say no, let me explain. In my travels today I may have...overheard some things about peoples’ plans tonight.”“Aaron…”“It came to my attention that Jay and Sarah were going to have dinner with one of the speakers tonight, George Washington, you know, the man you mentioned,” Aaron responded smoothly, fixing himself a rum and coke from the hotel’s overpriced mini-bar; Alexander’s eyes followed every movement. “And I thought, well. Wouldn’t it be nice to… perhaps serendipitously… run into Jay and Sarah at dinner? Who would then, in turn, introduce you to this Washington man? Didn’t you say you were interested in his company?”Alexander’s mouth fell open, “That’s...that feels sneaky.” His mind ran through the potential scenario, all the things that could go wrong, “Jay’s not going to be expecting us. What am I supposed to do to introduce myself? I have one suit that barely qualifies as business professional, let alone something to wear out. How much is this going to cost, Burr? I mean--really--” Each reason tumbling into his consciousness, one right after another, until he felt his neck heat up with frustration. Aaron addressed each concern with startling calmness, expression flattening as he approached Alexander, counting off the answers on his fingers, “One, it’s a public restaurant. We will just happen to be eating at the same time as the Jays. Nothing untoward about that. Two, once Jay sees you, someone he knows, he will no doubt be compelled to say hello, thus opening the door to an introduction. And lastly--” Aaron indicated to the bags on the bed.“What in God’s name?”“Open them.”Alexander paused, brows furrowed, before reaching into the bags to reveal a silk tie, an expensive-yet-understated luxury-brand men’s shirt, and a set of leather shoes with a fashionably similar belt. “Take them out and tell me what you think, honestly,” Aaron reiterated, quieter, wearing a look of anticipation. He reasoned, “What do you think? Look-- I didn’t know what exactly you’d like, so I tried to keep it neutral. Keep the tags and return the stupid things if you hate them, I don’t care. But those hideous shoes you brought...I don’t want to be mean, but--”“--This is ludicrous,” Alexander replied, but the grin that spread across his face indicated he felt otherwise. He handled the tie, watching it catch in the light, teal and blue, interchangeably. “I don’t know what to say.”“You don’t have to say anything. But you do need to be ready to go by seven forty-five, if Maps can be trusted. And don’t worry about the bill, for God’s sake.” Aaron brushed it off, taking another sip of his drink to steady his nerves. Alexander felt his stare, and looked up to meet it, “You didn’t have to do this.”“You said connect you,” Aaron shrugged.A new feeling, warm and expansive and thrilled, swooped into Alexander's abdomen and he made his way toward where Aaron stood, cradling his face in his hands, “Why do I feel like you’re going to be expecting something in return?”“I wouldn’t dream of it.”“That look on your face says otherwise,” Alexander dropped his voice further, and brought their mouths together, the pleasant, wildfire filling his entire body before he could make sense of it. Pulling back he muttered, “We shouldn’t let this get too far, in any case, if we don’t want to show up looking like--”Aaron matched his tone, “--Looking like we just fucked.”“I can’t believe you did this,” Alexander laughed, stepping back and taking inventory of the purchases. He listened to Aaron move around behind him: finishing the rest of his liquor, washing his hands in the sink and splashing cold water on his face. Opening and closing the fridge for a bottle of water. Speaking in low, soothing sentences about their night ahead that barely registered in Alexander’s ear. He gathered the clothes and headed toward the bathroom to shower and prepare. He shut the door behind him and exhaled, leaning back against it to catch his breath as though he’d just run a marathon. He looked in front of him at his reflection in the large mirror: high-colored and nervous, the same way he’d been after his first night with John. God, did it feel good to have something to look forward to again. As Alexander undressed he couldn't’ believe his luck: was Aaron a bit pretentious? Yes. Was he just a bit dishonest? Alexander’s smile spread further-- undoubtedly, he was-- and the aroused feeling crawled across his skin again. He did sort of like that about Aaron. A bit of a rule-breaker. A good resource to have on his side. 
And what impeccable taste in clothes. Good Lord. 
Alexander washed, dressed, and shaved. Brushed his teeth and spat. Tried not to think about their plot for dinner. Tried not to think about what he’d say to Washington. In the next twenty minutes the pair were in a taxi, Aaron scrolling through his phone. “Looks like this place is known for its seafood-- lobster, specifically. That sounds good. I haven’t had lobster in a while. Not a huge fan of the wine selection, though... chardonnay is far too dry...oh, but their dessert menu--”“--I don’t know if I even have an appetite anymore.” Alexander fidgeted in his seat, staring out the window, absentmindedly straightening and re-straightening his tie. “Come on.”“No, I’m serious. I feel like I’m going to throw up. What do I say to the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country? What am I supposed to talk about? The weather?”"Potential CEO. And don’t be ridiculous. He’s just… a guy. Besides, Jay will be there. Let him do the introductions, if you want,” Aaron replied without looking up. “Do you like creme brulee? I never cared for it but everyone always raves about it.”“Would you stop with the menu, for Christ’s sake,” Alexander moved the phone from Aaron’s face. “This is actually very important to me and I need your advice. What should I say?”Aaron exhaled. “Just keep it light. Tell him about your paper--which, given that he’s even at this conference--he’s already interested in. Drop hints that you’re going to be looking for work in the next few months. You’re planning on going into business law. You’re looking to make connections in the industry. You’re unattached and willing to say ‘how high’ if he says ‘jump’.”Alexander blinked, wondering if he should be taking notes.“These types…” Aaron lifted a hand as he spoke, “...They’re always looking for new blood. Especially ones with legal training. You said he’s looking to take over Aegis. You know a thing or two about their numbers, you’ve done the research. Make a good first impression, don’t push it, and then tomorrow follow up with a killer presentation. Get his contact information and then send him a follow-up email saying you loved meeting him, or something.”“I’ll have to stress to Jay how much I liked meeting him.”“Hm,” Aaron nodded noncommittally. “I don’t want to be too overbearing or desperate. I’ll just… make my presence known. I am an available, willing resource. I mean, I have the credentials, I have the grades… Why shouldn’t he like me? Right? I deserve this much, don’t I?” Alexander looked over at the man next to him, waiting, while Aaron’s expression remained blank, lit by the light of his phone screen. Alexander shoved him, “Hello?”“What? Yes. I already told you.”“What are you going to say to him?”“Who?” “Washington,” Alexander replied exasperatedly. The taxi pulled up to their stop and the pair got out, making their way toward the restaurant. Aaron brushed it off, “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll think of something in the moment.“Glad you can be so cavalier about it.”Aaron held the door open for Alexander and smiled at the hostess as she led them both to their table, speaking low, “Hamilton, I’ve dealt with people like him my entire life. He doesn’t scare me.”They settled into their seats and Alexander immediately began scoping out the room: sparse crowd for a Saturday night, but the patrons who were there were obviously wealthy. Womens’ glittering jewelry caught in the low light; mens’ deep laughs and the mingling conversations. The clinking of wine glasses and the scrape of silverware against fine china added to the muted noise around him. He barely registered Aaron ordering for them. In the next second, Aaron’s hand on his.“Hey--” Alexander looked over into his dark gaze, soft, “It’s going to be fine. It’s just a little introduction. You’re very likeable.”Alexander was caught off guard, “You think so?”“Yes. And you look very expensive.”“Oh-- I think I see Jay,” Alexander blanched, turning in his seat, then facing forward, his back to the door. “Let’s just… act normal. We’re supposed to be here. What are we talking about? Ah… is he headed over? Has he seen me?”“He has. Washington’s with him. Jay looks pleased and Sarah’s… God, how did he score a woman that looks like that?” Aaron murmured reverently. He felt a slap on his forearm; Alexander’s annoyed expression. Aaron continued, “Sorry. Okay. They’re settling. Jay’s talking to Sarah and Washington. Oh--”“--What?”“He indicated toward us,” Aaron sipped his water, swallowed, cleared his throat and dropped his voice. “I think he’s headed over. Looks like my plan’s working.”“Alexander!” Jay approached, pleasant, “I didn’t expect to see you here. Hello, Aaron.” His gaze darted from man to man, words hanging in the air. Alexander picked them apart internally, in milliseconds: he didn’t expect to see you here because you can’t afford it. He’s going to know it’s on Aaron’s dime. Alexander’s skin went cold. How to explain--“--I lost a bet,” Aaron laughed breezily. “I was talking to Hamilton about the attendees. I said George Washington would be far too busy with the merger to make it. Hamilton disagreed. He’s been following Aegis for a bit, bought some stock a while back. I told him to put money on it and I lost.”Alexander straightened his back. Jay nodded, buying the lie, “I didn’t know you were so interested in the company, Alex. If you don’t have any plans, we should grab drinks after this.” He lowered his voice, “The drink selection here is abysmal, but Sarah likes their seared tuna. There’s a great little place about a block over I was going to take George to.”Aaron sat back and looked at Alexander, smile hidden in the corner of his mouth, indicating he answer. Alexander acquiesced, “We’d love to.”“Great! Well, I'm going to get back to my table-- it was nice to see you both,” Jay grinned again and turned, sliding in between dinner parties on his way back to his wife and guest, candle light dancing in his wake. Alexander’s eyes followed him until Aaron broke his stare by tapping him on the arm. “What do you think?”Alexander turned his gaze onto the other man, “You lied to him.”“A little white lie,” Aaron shrugged. He added, “You should buy stock in Aegis, though. Just as a precaution.”“I can’t believe that worked,” Alexander breathed, accepting his plate of food from the waiter. He searched for his words, “Is it really that easy? I can’t believe it.”“I told you. Now use that burst of positive energy to keep you going until our drinks with Jay. You really don’t have anything to worry about,. If anything, he should be nervous about meeting you. You're top of your class, your credentials are spotless. I mean...you're fucking perfect,” Aaron responded, dropping his voice and avoiding eye-contact. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I heard Washington is an old bore. I bet he’s easy to impress.”Alexander paused at this, holding his drink mid-sip, glaring at him, “Don’t.”“Don’t what?”“This means so much to me,” Alexander put his glass down. “All of this, and I thank you. But please don’t… just let me fawn over him if I want to. Even if you think it's terribly stupid. I don’t need your running commentary about how much you hate people that remind you of your shitty family.” Aaron’s mouth hung open, and Alexander knew he’d hit the nail on the head. He pressed on, “If you can’t think of anything flattering to say to the man just keep quiet. I need this.”“You think I’d embarrass you?”“You have a strange sense of humor,” Alexander focused his attention back on his plate, avoiding Aaron’s stare. “Don’t say something snide and ruin this for me.” At this, he felt Aaron’s leg against his; his leather shoe inching its way between them and up the side of his calf.“You really are going to owe me, now,” he whispered, leaning in.The heat crept up Alexander’s neck, “Not here, for Christ’s sake.”“I’ll be good for you if you're good for me.”Alexander dropped his fork with a clank, shuffling his legs away beneath the table, “Burr.”“Hamilton,” Aaron replied in kind. Alexander tore his gaze away and began angrily stabbing at some broccoli. Aaron went on, watching him, “I won’t embarrass you, alright?”They finished up and paid, hanging back for a moment while Jay and his party left to head to the next bar. Alexander fished out his phone from his pocket and pulled up directions, “This way. It’s a ten minute walk. Let’s stay far enough behind so they don’t see us following them.” The pair walked slower, bundled up against the freezing precipitation, huddled together beneath Aaron’s umbrella. They reached the bar and stepped inside breathlessly, Alexander’s nerves kicking in again. The cold air did nothing to help his full-body shivers and clammy hands. He put them up to his mouth and tried to warm them while Aaron led them both to the far end of the room where Jay was already waiting. Washington sat to his left-- a tall, solid, stern looking man with short, cropped grey hair and similarly colored eyes. He wore a well-fitted black jacket and matching slacks, and had a commanding figure that hinted at being in-shape in his youth. Alexander tried to remember if Jay had mentioned he was in the military. That would be an important detail.  Jay hopped off the bar stool, shaking their hands, “Terrible weather. We toyed with the idea of skipping drinks and going straight home. I’m surprised they didn’t cancel tomorrow’s speakers and reschedule.”Alexander adjusted himself on the bar stool next to Jay, catching his reflection in the mirror across from them. Desperate. “This is George-- Mr. Washington--” Jay indicated to the older man and Alexander lifted himself from the stool again, grabbing Washington’s hand to shake it, his mouth completely dry as he eked out a hello. Behind him, Aaron reached around and in one smooth movement did the same, not a single hair out of place. Aaron seated himself at the end of their group, furthest away from Washington, and furthest away from the center of the conversation. “I swear, it gets worse every year,” Washington muttered, bringing a dark beer to his mouth. “I keep telling them to hold the conference in May. The reasoning is two fold: one, better weather. Two, the job market.”Alexander’s ears perked up, “That does make sense.”Jay interjected, “Alexander's my paralegal. You’re graduating in May, right?”“Yes. I am. Columbia law.”“I saw your name as one of the presenters tomorrow,” Washington replied, “Impressive educational resume, too. I do love it when law students have more of a realistic, solid undergraduate foundation. Too many humanities degrees. Sociology, religious studies, airy-fairy. Yours is econ and finance, correct?”Alexander couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Without a second thought he slipped into something glib and unrecognizable, a surprise even to himself. He sat up straighter, “Yes-- econ and finance. And I completely agree with you, sir. For me, I like the realities of the market rather than the...ideological stuff.” He laughed, mouth dry. He reached for a martini that appeared in front of him he didn’t remember ordering. Swallowed. “What good is theory if it falls apart in practice? That is what interests me the most and I think what will interest potential clients, as well.” A slick laugh escaped him, finishing the act. He avoided the reflective mirror.And you down there,” Washington craned his neck to get a better look at Aaron, who stared, eyes glazed, at the news playing from a television across the bar. Aaron blinked and looked at him. “Law. Princeton. Theology undergrad.”"Oh, I see," Washington’s expression flickered. Then, “What’s your name again? Are you a speaker?”“Aaron Burr. And no, I am not.”Washington seemed undeterred by any awkwardness. “Princeton theological school. Interesting choice. What sort of field do you wish to go into with that?”The question felt measured. Aaron tensed and gave him brief, silent, defensive shrug. Then, “Family law.”Jay steered the conversation back to Alexander, “You’re going to love the presentation tomorrow.” “It’s you and that other fellow, short man--” Washington responded. “Jemmy-- James--Madison,” Alexander took a longer sip of the martini. “The presentation will be about...well. I don’t want to give too much of it away, but it will have to do with consolidation of power, at all levels. From the government to individual businesses-- and how it all relates back to human nature.”Washington smiled appreciatively, “Sounds ambitious. I look forward to it.” He raised his glass, and Alexander relaxed.To his right, Aaron tore at a napkin. Jay moved in his stool, frowning at his cell phone.“Everything alright, Jay?” Washington asked. “Seven missed calls from an unknown number-- I don’t--” Jay scrolled through the call log, “It’s an Albany area code. I’d better take this. I’m sorry to cut the night short. It’s probably nothing, but you never know.” He waved apologetically and made his way to the entrance, phone at his ear. Washington took this as an opportunity to stand and make his exit, as well. He pulled out several bills as a tip, nodding at the two students, “It was a pleasure to meet you both-- Alexander, Arnold-- good night.”Alexander watched him disappear out the front door behind Jay, smile plastered to his face. As soon as he was out of earshot, he turned to Aaron, laughing. “That went so well,” he exhaled, beaming. “My God-- I can’t believe your plan worked. He really seemed to like me.”Aaron bit the olive from the skewer in his martini, “He called me Arnold.”Alexander waved it off, still breathless and flighty from nerves, “Oh, he’s old. I wouldn’t think anything of it. I wouldn’t take it too personally. He’s probably very busy.”“Look at you, already making excuses,” Aaron studied him, his handsome smile infectious. “Are you ready to go? We can order another round if you’re feeling up to it.”Alexander finished the last of his drink, then spun to face him, “No. I’m ready.”They managed to flag down a taxi in the freezing, blowing wind, interspersed with icy flecks that stung when they hit Aaron’s face. They slid into the back seat and Alexander sat close, anticipatory. Aaron found it hard to concentrate on anything else-- heard that Alexander was talking, reliving their dinner and the introduction to Washington and the way Jay had been so amenable--but couldn’t follow the words when his body heat made the windows steam. He watched Alexander’s mouth move, watched his lightly freckled hand toy nervously with the teal silk tie. Pretended, for a moment, they were a proper couple on their way home from a decadent dinner. Shook the laughably domestic image from his mind. “What are you grinning at?” Alexander interrupted his train of thought. "Just drunk.""He seemed to take issue with the social sciences," Alexander responded wryly.Aaron skirted over the subject, “Tonight went well. And tomorrow will go well, too. I think you made a good impression.”“Washington forgot your name. Bet that doesn't happen to you often,” Alexander chuckled to himself, looking back out the window, seemingly lost in a thought. The hotel lobby was empty but they entered through a side door anyway, a quicker walk to the stairwell. Alexander’s nerves took on a primal urgency as they stumbled into an elevator together, mouths locking as soon as the doors slid shut. Aaron’s hands wandered over him, sliding up and down his stomach, searching for the buttons to his new shirt. He kissed Alexander against the cold metal wall until the doors dinged and opened and they fell into the hallway, hanging off one another drunkenly. “Hurry up, would you?” Alexander breathed, watching Aaron fumble with the room card, so turned-on he thought he might pass out. They were inside the room and the door slammed and Alexander had him up against it, yanking Aaron’s scarf and jacket off haphazardly. He tossed it aside and began working on Aaron’s belt buckle, fingers no longer frozen and clumsy but warm and fast, unbuttoning and unzipping him. Alexander pressed one final, savage kiss onto Aaron’s lips and then fell to his knees, taking his length into his mouth. Aaron swore again under his breath at the sudden heat, and shuddered, grabbing Alexander by the shoulders and pulling him up, “The bed. I want to fuck you.”They fumbled in the dark together until Alexander felt his back hit the soft mattress, undressing so quickly he pulled a muscle in his leg. He smiled, groaning, Aaron’s tongue leaving a hot, then cold, pleasurable feeling at his neck, “I don’t want to ruin my new clothes.”Aaron stirred at this, “I’ll buy you more. Whatever you want.”“If I’m good to you,” Alexander muttered, grabbing Aaron by the collar and bringing their faces millimeters apart. “What else can you do for me?”Without answering, Aaron indicated he turn over onto his stomach. In seconds Alexander felt Aaron's tongue plunge into him, his gripping hands squeezing Alexander's ass and spreading it. Alexander let out a lecherous stream of garbled words against the sheets until he couldn't hold himself back, begging Aaron to stop before he came too quickly. He rolled onto his back and locked eyes with Aaron, losing himself in Aaron's dark, hungry gaze.Alexander couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or something deeper-- but that night was different. Aaron seemed more intense, laser-focused and inventive, slipping his arms beneath Alexander’s legs and resting his ankles at his shoulders. Pushing into Alexander so thoroughly Alexander briefly lost consciousness at the feeling. Flipping Alexander over to face the mirror in a sort of dare. Lifting him onto the desk in a move so fluid and practiced it was all Alexander could do to stop himself from imagining all the women Aaron had probably fucked like that-- a thought that, rather than making him jealous, made Alexander delirious with desire. He held on, hands grabbing Aaron's arms, whispering encouragement and incoherent begging. His leg and foot muscles cramped dangerously, the ice cold desk at his back adding to the conflicting pain. Something crashed to the floor in the midst of their rhythm: a cell phone, a notebook, a jumble of hotel pens in a cup. Alexander couldn't look away if he wanted to.Before he knew it they were on the bed again and Alexander rode him like it was his job, like he’d been paid to do it. He had, in a roundabout way, he supposed. The thought cascaded from the back of his mind to every square inch of his exposed skin and body, covering him in another wave of pleasure. Fuck it. At that point, Alexander concluded, he would have done just about anything to keep Aaron around, if only because he made Alexander feel like--He couldn’t finish the thought before Aaron, seemingly reading his mind, lifted himself into a seated position and brought their mouths together again, increasing his pace and mumbling something filthy and inarticulate, finishing them both off in a dual chorus of unguarded moans.  **** Jemmy woke up with a smile on his face, replaying his night. It was, for all intents and purposes, perfect. He turned over onto his side, eyes falling on the blisteringly white blizzard just outside his window. Even the shitty weather couldn’t dampen his mood. Not when the memory of he and Dolley’s night was still so fresh in his mind. He traced it from start to finish, staring back at the hotel room ceiling.She showed up in a flattering blue dress that made her skin glow, hair falling out gracefully from a low chignon in pretty ringlets against her neck and collarbone. She was completely at-ease with him, carrying the conversation in a manner so sincere and exuberant Jemmy felt light headed. They ordered the same drinks-- something berry-flavored, topped with a curling lemon rind-- and from there, discovered that they shared similar taste in nearly everything. Dolley thought television was a bore. Dolley loved the idea of a farm, but knew in her heart it was probably unrealistic. Dolley wanted more from her life than a million kids and a mindless, part-time job. Ambitious, bright, friendly. None of it felt real. Jemmy sat up and yawned, slipping on a pair of socks and making his way to the coffee pot by the sink. She wasn't pushy about wanting to spend the night. And she wasn’t disappointed when he said he’d rather get some sleep. She kissed him, deep-- and that was that. He realized he’d better get some caffeine into his system fast or he was likely to float away, screw the stupid presentation. Jemmy hit brew on the coffee pot and idly reached for his cell phone.His self-satisfied smile dropped from his face as he flipped through the missed calls-- all from Jay-- and one urgent text: Call me please. Morris was in an accident last night. I tried getting a hold of Hamilton but he’s not responding. Been at the hospital since ten pm. If you see Hamilton, please tell him to call me ASAP.Jemmy straightened his back, flushing hot, then cold-- wracking his brain, trying to place the name. He read over the texts again, dressing haphazardly while he did so. In the next minute he was fidgeting with the lid of a paper coffee cup, slurping down the first piping hot sip in searing pain. He winced slamming a finger against the button of the elevator, hitting the eleventh floor, and heading down the hallway to Alexander’s room. He hoped Alexander would have some more insight into everything; Jemmy acted on autopilot.He rapped a knuckle against the door, continuous, “Alexander? It’s Jemmy. Hello? Please open up. Sorry it’s so early--”A shirtless, bleary-eyed Aaron swung the door open, blinking, “What in God’s name--”Jemmy faltered, embarrassed. Then, thought better. “Aaron, I’m sorry to bother you so early. Something terrible happened. I need to talk with Alexander. I--Aaron held up a hand, hungover and wincing through a headache as he leaned against the frame, cutting him off, “--Jemmy, I slept for a grand total of two hours. You’re at about a nine right now, and I’m gonna need you to dial it back to a three.”"Spare me the details," Jemmy pushed past him in a huff, “One of the presenters, Jay’s friend, Morris, was in a car accident sometime last night and he’s at the hospital. He wants to talk to Alexander. I think we should all just go to the hospital to make sure everyone’s okay.” He strolled over to the bed, jostling Alexander awake with one firm hand, “Hamilton. Get up.”Alexander muttered something nonsensical and stirred. Behind Jemmy, Aaron let the door shut with a thud. “Coffee?” Aaron asked tonelessly from the kitchenette. “I brought my own, thank you,” Jemmy turned to face him, taking in the expansive, luxurious room at the same time; a far cry from his own tiny quarters and depressing view. Then, he looked back at Alexander, in boxers, hopelessly tangled in a disarray of sheets, clothes scattered across various pieces of furniture. The rest of the room, a mess of personal belongings all over the floor, like a storm had blown through. He inhaled and rolled his eyes, nudged him again, determined not to let his mind settle too conclusively on the situation.“Hamilton! Get up!”Finally Alexander opened his eyes, and immediately scowled, yanking the sheets tighter, “Jemmy? What the fuck? Aaron--”“Good morning sweetheart,” Aaron called sarcastically from his position against the counter, lifting a white ceramic mug in greeting. “We have a guest.”“There’s been an accident with Gouv. As far as I know, everyone else is fine. But Jay’s at the hospital, and I think we should go.” Jemmy repeated, watching the thought travel across Alexander’s half-asleep face. “An...a what? Like a car?” Alexander mumbled, shifting into a seated position, reaching around him for his phone. “Where’s my--” his eyes landed on his cell, half-hidden beneath a discarded shoe and a crumpled notebook at the base of the dresser. “Burr, hand me that, would you?”Aaron obeyed and brought the phone over to him, and Alexander opened it to reveal Jay’s missed calls and messages, polite, but with an air of urgency. Jemmy paced, his embarrassment at coming upon his friends in such a state slowly changing into run-of-the-mill exasperation, “I’m going to leave and just...let you two get ready. Meet me in the lobby. We can all head over together as soon as you’re able. I guess I can text Jay and let him know we’re on our way, if it’s all the same to either of you.”“Jemmy…” Aaron groaned. From the bed, Alexander stood and struggled with a crumpled pair of slacks, hoisting them onto his waist and buckling them, wearing an expression close to contrition, “Jemmy, really, I’m sorry I missed his calls. We’ll be down in the lobby in ten minutes. It will be fine.”“Jay has some of our notes.” Jemmy crossed his arms at the door. “We can get them from him at the hospital,” Alexander reasoned. Behind him, Aaron slurped down the rest of his coffee and slipped into the bathroom to dress, leaving the pair alone. Alexander shrank under his friend’s reproachful gaze. “Don’t give me that look.”“What happened to ‘Burr can’t be trusted’?” “For fuck’s sake. We’re just having some fun. It’s nothing deeper than that,” Alexander reached behind him for a shirt, sniffing it, then shrugging it on. He continued, “And I don’t need your judgments. Besides, we met George Washington last night. With some of his quick thinking and...finesse."“Well, congratulations, I suppose,” Jemmy sighed. He gave one last look around the disheveled room, then to his friend who’d turned red, “See you in ten minutes. Bring your notebook, just in case,” and stepped back into the hallway, heading in the direction of the elevators.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dolley came toward him wearing a look of sympathy, pulling Jemmy into a firm hug as soon as he reached the right floor. He stepped out of the elevator and was immediately enveloped in Dolley’s pretty, floral perfume and deluge of words. “It’s awful--sorry, I don’t want to scare you-- Bets texted me. She was in the car with him and there’s not a scratch on her,” Dolley pulled away, high-colored and still panicked, “They were just...I mean the guy came out of nowhere--it’s so crazy, I--”Jemmy grabbed her arms, “Dolley, take a breath. Are you alright? Do you need water?”“I just hate hospitals.”“Go sit in the waiting room. Do you want breakfast? You can take my card to the cafeteria--” Jemmy fished out his wallet and handed it to her. “What time did you get here? You must be starving.”“Five, and yes. I am. Thank you,” Dolley sighed, accepting it. “Jay and Bets are still in there with him. I think---” she stopped, blanching, “--I’ll let them tell you.”“It’s going to be fine.” “Where is Aaron?”Jemmy exhaled, “He and Alexander were right behind me. They stopped in the gift shop for some idiotic reason.”Dolley didn’t seem to register it, nodding to herself before wordlessly turning and heading back to the elevators. Jemmy watched her go, then steeled himself for the scene in the hospital room nearby. He entered slowly, greeted by an exhausted Jay and a sleeping Bets, curled up in a ball on an uncomfortably firm upholstered chair, a mug of coffee steaming on a table next to her. On the bed, the large-framed, proud-looking Gouv lifted a hand in greeting and let it drop with a thud against the sheets. Jay rubbed his eyes, “Thank you for coming, Jemmy.”“You didn’t have to,” Gouv muttered, in a confident, almost bored sounding voice that belied the seriousness of the situation, “Everyone is making a big hairy deal and I’m fine, for God’s sake.”“Would you stop with that?” Jay snapped, and it was the first time Jemmy had ever heard him use that tone, as though his patience with his friend had worn completely thin. Jay indicated toward Gouv’s legs, “Look at you. Look at what your carelessness has done. And Bets was in the car with you. What were you thinking?”Jemmy’s mouth hung open at the sight as he finally registered what he was looking at: amidst the bandages and wires and lumpy, pale-blue blankets, he realized Gouv was missing a leg. He felt a swoop of nausea, then steadied himself against a low shelf where jackets and purses had been set, clearing his throat and looking away. “Oh, don’t be like that,” Gouv eyed Jemmy. “They had to amputate his left leg, it was so badly mangled,” Jay explained, turning a dark gaze to Jemmy, whose words had all but flown out of his mind at the realization.“I...I’m...Jesus Christ…” Jemmy breathed, coming closer.Gouv’s expression was unchanging, “I don’t want to think about it.”“What the hell are you talking about?” Jay raised his voice again, and Bets stirred.“I said, I don’t want to think about it. I don't want to obsess over it. There will be time for all that.” Gouv matched Jay’s ire. “Give it a fucking rest, would you?”“Knock knock,” Alexander appeared in the doorway, bright-faced, Aaron behind him, carrying a bouquet of yellow and orange carnations, peppered with fluttery white baby’s breath.“Oh for fuck’s sake. How many people did you call?” Gouv asked, looking at Jay.Alexander’s expression dropped at the sight, “What--”“--Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Jay walked over to him. “I had-- I was--”“Never mind.” Jay cut him off. He softened, “...The flowers are pretty. Thanks, Aaron.”Aaron set them down on the nightstand by the bed, “Thought they’d brighten things up.”“What happened?” Alexander asked, walking over to the bed.“Lost a leg.” Gouv grumbled. “Tell him exactly what happened,” Jay’s ire was back. “What are you, my priest?”Gouv sighed, settling back into his pillows, giving the room a barely perceptible eye-roll, “I was talking to this woman on a dating app and I wanted to go meet her--”“--Married woman,” Jay interjected.“Are you going to let me finish?” Gouv shot back. “I was going to meet a woman I had been talking to and despite my better judgement I decided to drive. Bets was with me because I thought…” he paused, almost contrite, “...I thought it would help put the woman’s guard down, if there was another woman with me.”Aaron let out a snicker. Alexander hit his arm. Jay replied, “And that is the most moronic, bone-headed thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”“God almighty, would you give it a rest?” Gouv barked. “They should have removed your dick,” Jay yelled.Bets stirred again, opening her eyes and yawning, blinking, looking around, “Oh! Hello. I didn’t know we had guests.” She stretched and sat up straight, pink-cheeked, “Hi Jemmy, Aaron, Alexander.”The three men returned her greeting in a varying chorus of ‘hellos’. Jemmy stepped over to her, “Sorry to wake you. How are you doing?” “Oh...fine,” she answered. “Did...is Dolley still here?”Jemmy nodded, “She went to grab breakfast. I don’t think she handles hospitals very well…”“No. She doesn't,” Bets responded, matter-of-factly, stranding and gathering her things, “I told her she didn’t have to come and that I was fine, but she insisted. I’m going to find her and make sure she’s alright.”“I think that’s a good idea,” Jemmy replied, nodding to himself. Then, looking back up, “Mind if I join you?”“Not at all,” Bets beckoned he follow her, a small smile forming on her mouth. Jay walked over, escorting the pair to the hospital room door, speaking in a low voice, “Bets, seriously, I’m so sorry. I know Gouv is, too. He’s just very… he doesn’t think. He--”“--I know.” Bets assured him. Jemmy watched the pair discuss Gouv out of ear shot, stealing a glance at him back on the bed, in deep conversation about something on his phone with Aaron and Alexander. Jemmy’s attention went back to Bets as she spoke again, “I’ve known him for a while. They’re all like that, these rich boys. No sense of consequence. Don’t look so guilty, okay? He may not show it right now, but he’s learned his lesson, I assure you.”Jay gave her a small smile, “I trust your judgement.”She returned it and Jemmy followed her out the door. Bets filled the silence with a sigh, and the low click-clack of her heels. Jemmy only then realized she was dressed as though she had been on some sort of date: full make-up, black boots, deep navy jeans, a cream-colored, off-white designer top and diamond earrings. She hit the first-floor button on the elevator, stepping inside. “What a night…” she exhaled.“Yes. Yeah,” Jemmy agreed. “You must think we’re all insane,” Bets adjusted her purse against her shoulder. The elevator whirred, then stopped, dinging. Jemmy laughed, “I reserve the right to answer that. You can’t base your judgments of a person on their worst moments.”Bets grinned at him, “Bold of you to assume this will be Gouv’s worst moment.”They eventually made their way to the cafeteria: a wide, open room with one window-lined wall facing a buffet of appetizing breakfast foods. Peppered here and there were groups of people in threes and fours, families and friends, Jemmy assumed, who were waiting for some kind of news about their loved one. “Thank God it’s not crowded,” Bets mumbled. “I think I see Dolley-- over by the window in the corner.” She led them both to a small table where Dolley sat alone, idly scrolling through her phone before looking up and standing in greeting. She hugged Bets, “Hey--”“Are you alright? I know you’re a bit squeamish,” Bets sat down. “Yeah, I’m fine. How’s Gouv?”“Stubborn as ever. I don’t think it’s hit him yet, and I don’t know when it will,” Bets helped herself to a piece of bacon off Dolley’s plate. “You know how men are. Especially him.”Dolley raised her eyebrows in agreement and nodded; some knowledge between them. Jemmy felt out of place. “You have to try the waffles.” Dolley changed the subject. Bets brightened, “Do they have a waffle-maker?”“Yes. It’s amazing. I think I was just hungry. I get so anxious when I don’t eat.”Bets stood, “Mind if I leave my purse here? I’m going to go grab something.”“Not at all,” Dolley answered. She watched her friend head toward the buffet, and then turned to Jemmy, almost contrite, whispering, “I feel so bad for her. She and Gouv were...a thing. Sort of. I don’t know. But I know she was hoping to make it official. Her dad is really old fashioned and she really wants to start her life. Anyway, this whole thing just makes me angry.”Jemmy tried to follow, “What?”Dolley exhaled, correcting herself, “You know what, never mind. It’s not my business. I’m really, really thankful that you came this morning. Seriously. You didn’t have to.” She stared at him, eyes large and gentle, searching.Jemmy was caught off guard, “It’s nothing. As long as you’re alright, so am I.”Dolley smiled at him just as Bets came back with an appealing-looking Belgian waffle covered in butter and maple syrup. Jemmy’s stomach twisted hungrily at the sight. Bets situated her fork and knife over it and stabbed.“God, it’s been so long since I’ve had anything like this.” She chewed, then looked over at Dolley, “Did you know Mary-- at the stables-- told me if I wanted to ride better I could stand to lose ten pounds? She told me that right to my face.”“Mary’s a bitch,” Dolley huffed. “She told me the same thing.”Bets savored the waffle, then swallowed. Then, wiping her mouth, “I can’t take this low-carb thing. Angie’s been on it for months. But she’s Miss Competitive, so.”Jemmy followed the conversation between the two women, rapt. “Wasn’t Peg doing it too?”“Yes,” Bets looked sardonic, “To fit into her wedding dress. Well, you see how great that worked out.”Dolley laughed into a glass of orange juice, “God.”“What-- who’s this, now?” Jemmy asked. “My younger sister. Me, Angie and Peg are all about a year apart, and close. We all decided to try this diet. Peg came up with it because she wanted to buy this absurd ten thousand dollar wedding dress that was about two sizes too small, but it was couture , so there’s only one, anyway--” Bets brushed the thought aside with a small hand movement, “--as an act of solidarity we decided we all would do this diet with her. Two months in, and Peg elopes in Vegas in a pair of cheap jeans. Didn’t even tell me or Angie. We woke up to a text message.”“Oh, wow…” Jemmy raised his brows.Dolley picked at a flecking manicure on her pointer finger, “I don’t know how people live like that. No offence to your sister, Bets.”“None taken. She’s air-headed.” Bets finished another bite and then reached into her purse, pulling out a leather-bound datebook with her initials on it. As she flipped it open, Jemmy noticed each day of the week had been color-coded with a different pen. Small doodles filled the margins, which Jemmy assumed to be symbols for things he couldn’t make out. When she turned the pages, he realized each month’s header had been decorated festively, too-- December’s was red and green holly leaves, surrounded by miniscule, detailed silver snowflakes in the margins, with a large yellow star of Bethlehem at the top of the page. It almost looked like Bets had bought it that way, until she pulled out a handful of colored gel pens.“I think… red for hospital visits,” Bets muttered, making a note. Dolley watched her and shook her head, “You’re insane with that, you know? Just use your phone, for God’s sake.”“I like writing things down. It feels more solid. Plus, it helps with memory. You remember things better when you physically write them,” Bets reasoned. She finished making the note, and then scanned her book, “The conference starts at one-thirty. Are we going to make it back?” “If the notes were in your phone, you wouldn’t have to remember them. That’s the point,” Dolley teased. Jemmy cut in, “Well, I have to be there by three, at the latest. You all can miss it, but Alexander and I can’t. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, given the events of last night.”“Well if it’s not until this afternoon, I’m sure we can make it,” Bets made another note.Jemmy tried to veer the conversation back to topics he knew, “Dolley told me you’re interested in one day starting a business?”Bets nodded to herself without looking up from her book, pen moving across the page, “Something like that.” She dotted a period, and set the pen down, given him her attention, “I do a lot of volunteer work at a group home in Albany-- they always need so much help-- I think if I could put together some kind of dedicated committee to raise funding for them on a regular basis, people who could advocate on their behalf, it would be immensely helpful. And the kids are so great. They just need hobbies. I don’t see myself working in any other field, frankly.”“Sounds like a great plan,” Jemmy looked at her appreciatively. “You’ve definitely come to the right conference if you’re looking for people with the same kinds of goals, I’ll say that.”Dolley cut in, “She has her entire life planned out.”“Shut up,” Bets laughed.“You do.” “Not my whole life, come on.” Bets replied, still smiling and still, Jemmy noticed, pleased with herself. “Just the immediate future.”“You’ve got it all written out,” Dolley pressed, eating another strip of bacon, grinning. “And it's not the immediate future, it’s like ten years.”“Nothing wrong with a little planning,” Jemmy reasoned. “But ten does sound...ambitious.”“It’s seven, thank you,” Bets corrected. “And you’re absolutely right. That was my reasoning. Ten felt too long, five too short. So, seven. Right in the middle. Plus it works out neatly, to my thirtieth birthday, so it seemed right. Besides, it makes me feel secure.”“You mean it makes your parents feel secure,” Dolley muttered into a glass, so inaudible that only Jemmy heard her. He looked at her, then back at Bets, who continued explaining.“I have a lot of plans, alright? The group home committee-- I’ll tackle that immediately. I obviously want to get married and have at least two or three kids before I’m thirty-- I’m not going to be seventy at my child’s high-school graduation. Then, of course, there’s buying a house. My parents said they’d help with that but I’ll still need to make sure it's perfect. And vacations will have to be part of the equation. I haven’t been to France since high school.”“I'm exhausted just listening to you,” Dolley remarked drolly. “Look, not everyone is satisfied with a life that just says ‘VIBE’ in crayon at the top of a wide-ruled loose leaf sheet of paper.”Dolley made a face and shrugged. Jemmy watched her demeanor change incrementally while Bets turned the pages of her notebook intently, eyes scanning her writing. Dolley unlocked her phone and adjusted herself in her seat, gathering her things. Without looking up, she spoke, “Gotta take this. Do either of you mind if I step out for a bit?”“No, not at all,” Jemmy replied quickly. Bets gave her a look, “Who is it?”“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in a sec,” Dolley brushed her off and left in a flurry.“God, it’s probably Todd. He’s such an asshole,” Bets shook her head and took another stab at her waffle.A deep gulf opened in Jemmy’s chest, “Who’s Todd?” He asked, already knowing, dreading, the answer. “Her ex. They broke up officially almost a year ago but she still takes his calls. He’s extremely manipulative,” Bets explained, focusing in on her fork, sawing away at a corner of the waffle, “She’s really trying to stay clean but he makes it impossible. I wish he’d fuck off, frankly.” **** On the frozen, icy-bright walk back to the hotel, Alexander replayed the scene at the hospital. “You’re not going to sit here and miss the conference on my behalf.” Gouv said definitively, placing one hand on top of the blanket. The conversation in the hospital room turned from vague niceties to the realities of the day, with Gouv leading it, addressing the elephant in the room on everyone else’s behalf. Alexander liked that. “We’re not just going to leave you here,” Jay reasoned. He sat cross-legged in the same firmly upholstered chair that Bets had fallen asleep in, limbs hanging over the edge, giving the air of someone relaxed. Alexander knew better, and followed the conversation, keeping his own opinions to himself. Jay continued, “When are they discharging you?”Gouv shrugged, “They said it could be as early as tomorrow or the day after, as soon as I can put a bit of weight on my stitches.”“The whole thing is cursed,” Jay said, darkening. “Bad omens all around. What next? First the snowstorm, now this--what do you two think?” Alexander faltered at being addressed directly. He looked at Jay, his boss, and struggled to come up with the correct answer. He knew what he wanted to say-- that his being here really served no purpose and that he was itching to get back to practicing the presentation-- but the look on Jay’s face made him pause. Aaron nudged him. “I don’t…” Alexander exhaled, thinking, “...I agree with Gouv.” That felt safe. Gouv picked up the conversation again, nodding appreciatively in Alexander’s direction, “See? I don’t need to be babysat. The conference organizers will know what to do. Everyone will get a nice break for an hour between three and four instead of listening to me drone on about international diplomatic relations. Everybody wins.”Jay grumbled something Alexander couldn’t hear. Gouv’s practical, jovial reasoning buoyed Alexander. He took one last look at the man beneath the blankets, who’d just experienced a life-altering event, and who treated it with a cold-eye, and almost admired him as he stepped back out into the hallway with Aaron at his side. He closed the door gently and the pair made their way back to the elevator. Aaron exhaled and rubbed his eyes, leaning against the cold metal wall of the elevator as though he’d just run a marathon. “What an unbelievable morning,” he muttered, and only then did Alexander notice the pallor in his face. “Not squeamish, are you?”“Not strictly. Can we walk back to the hotel? I could use the fresh air.” Aaron mumbled.Alexander would have argued if it didn’t look like Aaron had just seen a ghost, “...Sure.”They bundled up and stepped out of the hospital, through the squeaking woosh of the automated doors, and onto the frozen sidewalk. And so Alexander waited; Aaron’s silence intriguing him. He dug his hands further into his pockets, wondering why he hadn’t brought gloves. They turned a corner and Aaron prepared to speak. “I was in a really bad car accident a few years ago,” he said once the wind died down. “I was alone in my car, but the other car had four people in it. All of them died.” “What?” Alexander nearly tripped.“Yeah. I really don’t… it’s not something I like to talk about.”Alexander chewed on this thought, and stole a glance at the man beside him, wanting to pry deeper. He knew better, but struggled with his curiosity. He wracked his brain to remember their past conversations, if Aaron had ever dropped any hints about it, “--The story about your cousin’s BMW, at the beach house--”“--I lied about that. Sort of.”“Are you serious? Why?” Aaron did not answer immediately. The hotel was in sight and he picked up his pace, rushing in front of them to open the side door for Alexander, the same one they’d drunkenly fell through together just twelve hours previous. Alexander’s question--why-- hung in the air and even he struggled to figure out exactly what he meant by it. “I told you, I don’t like thinking about it.” Another elevator, another hallway, another door, and they were back in their hotel room. Alexander looked around at their scattered belongings, “Well… are you alright, at least? I mean with everything that happened this morning?”“I just need a minute.”He’d never seen Aaron like this. It was as if he’d been holding everything together just long enough to crash once alone. He watched Aaron absentmindedly walk over to the sink and fill a cup with water for a small sip, then slip his belt off and fall back onto the bed, with his arm across his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The urbane, worldly man he knew last night dissipated in front of him. He walked over to the bed and sat down. “Are you going to be okay?”“I don’t want to talk about it.”A flame of irritation sparked inside of Alexander, “Well obviously you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be making such a big deal of it.”Aaron removed the arm from his eyes, “What do you expect me to say? Being there brought back unwelcome memories.”Alexander pulled back, gentler, “Alright. You’re right. I’m sorry. If it’s too much to talk about you don’t have to.” He sat with his hands in his lap, studying a pattern in the carpet while Aaron sighed loudly behind him. They were quiet for a solid minute before Aaron opened up.“It was New Years’ Eve, about five years ago now. They were driving drunk and hit me and tumbled down an embankment. I still dream about it.”“That’s horrible,” Alexander answered. “I thought maybe if I could just...move past it-- if I didn’t think about it--” he moved his arm from his eyes and looked at Alexander imploringly, “-- I can’t change it, right? What would be the point in replaying the stupid thing in my mind, over and over? Right? So why can’t I just move past it?”“Well...being in a hospital with someone who’d just been in a car accident couldn't have helped,” Alexander reasoned. To Alexander’s shock, Aaron laughed, staring at the ceiling. He continued, sitting up and smiling at nothing in front of his nose.“People just die around me. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only real person in the world and everyone else is just a figment of my imagination. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and have these… realizations. Like, ‘this is me. This is it, this is my life, and it’s reality.’ I have to stop short of pinching myself. What if this is just a dream and I’m in hell--I could throw myself off the roof of this hideous hotel and--”Before he could rationalize it Alexander lifted himself from the bed, reached out, and slapped Aaron’s face in one fluid, unthinking movement. The sound reverberated through the room and Aaron grabbed his cheek as he snapped out of his tirade. He landed a wide gaze on Alexander, who stood above him.“That felt real, didn’t it?” Alexander barked, his face heating. Aaron’s hand lingered on the red welt, fingers running across it. “Don’t you ever talk like that again,” Alexander continued, and though he tried to stop it, felt his heart racing so quickly he was afraid he’d pass out. He steadied himself, “Now. Get a good hit in so we’re even.”“Hamilton.”“I’m ready. Do it.”Aaron exhaled and stood, running a hand through his hair and weighing the decision before shoving Alexander so hard he stumbled backwards into a lamp. In a flurry of clashing metal and a popping lightbulb Alexander crashed to the floor, spitting curses and nursing his arm. Aaron rushed over apologetically, giving him a hand up, “I’m sorry. That was…”“I got it. I’m fine.”“...So fucking stupid.”Alexander brushed himself off and stood up straight, addressing the other man, “Are you sane now? Have you returned to your senses? That was serial killer talk, you know. ‘No one else is real except me’. Don’t dwell on that or I’ll report you to authorities.” He watched Aaron’s expression turn from shock, back to the man he’d grown to know: smooth-featured and calm. He paused, then walked over to him, touching the mark on his cheek, “You’re not insane. You’re just very unlucky.”“How’s your arm?” Aaron indicated a small red stain seeping through the fabric of Alexander’s sleeve. “Oh Christ, this is the new shirt you bought me.” Alexander muttered, and he headed to the sink, scrubbing at it. In several seconds he felt Aaron at his back, wrapping his hands around his midsection and leaning his face into his neck. Alexander paused, “What are you doing? Don’t get sappy on me.”Aaron spun him, looking into Alexander’s face, “Thank you.”“For what? Slapping the fuck out of you?” Alexander let a cocky smile creep across his features.“For not bullshitting me.” Aaron responded. Alexander’s smile faded, “Never.” **** Jemmy scanned the room: chairs organized in twenty rows of ten, slowly filling up with people. He fidgeted, shoving his hands in his pockets to wipe the clammy sweat from them. He wished he brought a water bottle. He wished he’d gone to the bathroom just one more time. He wished Hamilton would hurry the hell up, wherever he was. Jemmy checked his watch-- quarter til four. He tapped his foot. He knew Jay wasn’t going to be there. He’d sent Jemmy a long, apologetic email about it, and instead of being upset it made Jemmy feel warm to know Jay was such a loyal friend to Gouv. Bets hovered nearby, lifting his spirits, not letting them settle too definitively on the fact that Dolley was nowhere in sight, the darkest reason for Jemmy’s nerves. She perched herself at a table, notebook in hand, “What was his name again? The other presenter?”Jemmy broke his stare from the crowd, “Alexander Hamilton.”Bets made a note, “Yes. That’s it. I had forgotten his last name. You said he’d be a good resource for insights into starting a business? I don’t want to come at him with inane questions.”“Yes. He had plans to start one with his ex-boyfriend a few years ago and it...ended badly,” Jemmy didn’t feel much like talking about Alexander, or his messy personal life, or Bets’ future plans. He was nervous and flighty and distracted and he knew it, and wished Bets would take the hint. “What do you mean it ended badly? Is he not reliable, or--”“--What? No. He’s very reliable. When he sets his mind to it.”Bets backed down slightly, “I’m sorry. I know I’m being annoying. You’re probably nervous--”“--Alright, are we ready?” Alexander seemingly appeared out of nowhere, cutting her off, striding up to Jemmy. He flattened his hair that stuck up as though he’d been taking a nap, adjusted a slightly wrinkled tie and nearly stumbled while fixing a folded pant leg. Jemmy stared at him, mouth open, “Where the hell were you? We agreed on three pm!”“I was-- I got held up, okay?”“What is on your arm-- is that blood?”“Don’t worry about it!” Alexander replied, rolling up his sleeve to hide it. He then turned his attention to Bets, “What are you doing back here?”Bets was undeterred, “If you had a moment, after your presentation, I wanted to pick your brain a bit. Jemmy said you’d be a good resource for someone looking for advice for starting a business.”Alexander’s smile flattened, “Oh, look at you.” Jemmy cut him off, “Do you have your notes ready? Alexander looked back at him, “I do.” He pulled out a small USB drive and handed it to Jemmy. The pair made their way to the front of the room: a small podium next to a table, a laptop connected to a projector, completed the scene. The attendees filtered in, and although it was a smaller crowd than Jemmy had anticipated, the unwelcome lightheadedness crept into his body. He looked around for a glass of water-- eyes landing on a table at the back with water bottles. “Grab me one too, would you?” Alexander called after him.Jemmy took a deep breath. There was nothing to worry about. Everyone here was interested in what they had to say. For some unwelcome reason, Jemmy was hit with the memory of Thomas mentioning, off-hand, that he’d like to see the conference. Another scan of the room told Jemmy that was a lie. He made a face. Washington had shown up, hovering in the back with a handful of equally be-suited men Jemmy didn’t recognize. Bets was certainly eager to see what she could learn. Jay and Gouv would have been there had it not been for a bizarre act of God. Even Aaron, seated in the back corner of the room, so bored he looked like he was asleep with his eyes open, had shown up for Alexander. In fact, he thought, it was the people he was most desperate to see-- Thomas and Dolley-- who couldn’t be bothered. His shoulders sagged; he felt the wind slowly leaking out of his sails. He dimmed the lights and walked over to the podium where Alexander already stood, smiling handsomely at the crowd, looking as though he was born for it. Jemmy cleared his throat and started up the beige PowerPoint-- peppered with the brightly colored illustrations Alexander had insisted on-- and began his presentation. “An infinity of little, jealous, clashing, tumultuous commonwealths…” Well, this was fine. Jemmy felt as though he were on auto-pilot-- the words he’d rehearsed so many times flying from his mouth with ease. Muscle-memory, that was the term. He paused speaking for Alexander’s planned interjections.“Look,” he said, stepping forward confidently and speaking with his hands while the audience watched his every movement, “Nothing-- not a family, not a small business, not a corporation, not a government-- gets done unless all parts of the machine work together as one. This is fundamental.”Jemmy didn’t mind letting him take control. The lightheaded feeling came back. He reached out and steadied himself with his right hand against the podium. Thank God it’s dark in here, he thought, knowing he must have looked a mess. They were philosophical, ideological, Alexander’s points. You focus on the large picture, Jemmy explained, and I will fill in the details. Alexander agreed intently. He loved the ideals and knew he wouldn’t get much opportunity to philosophize in his chosen career. No, I will have to make do with the day-to-day realities of the law, Alexander explained. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to explore larger concepts. Alexander’s voice grew distant, then in-focus again-- and Jemmy suddenly felt something dark clawing at the corners of his physical mind. Not here. Not fucking here, not now. Alexander’s voice cut back in, “...As Montesquieu said…”Jemmy took a deep breath. It was the same feeling he had at Thomas’ party. Dizzy and unsteady, as though he were about to faint. His last thought: that Dolley wasn’t there to catch him.  *** When Jemmy awoke, he was sprawled across a makeshift bed of several chairs lined up in an adjacent, empty room to the one the conference was in. He could barely hear the low din of the question and answer section-- the section he was most excited for-- continuing on without him. The frustration rose up inside of him before he was even fully awake. He opened his eyes and saw Aaron sitting nearby. “You fainted,” he spoke, trying to sound helpful. Jemmy closed his eyes, almost relieved. So it wasn’t a seizure. Well, he thought, thank God for small favors, I guess. “I didn’t know you had such bad stage fright,” Aaron offered calmly. “You should have said something. Alexander could have given the whole speech. He wouldn’t have minded.”“No one called an ambulance, did they?” Jemmy managed. “No. I stopped them. Me and some of the other attendees carried you here before things got too intense.”Jemmy burned, embarrassed, “God.”“Hamilton’s in there now, fielding questions, handling it brilliantly,” Aaron remarked, standing. “You should see him. A man possessed.” The adjacent room erupted into muffled laughter at something Alexander had said, as if adding to Aaron’s point. “I can’t go back in there,” Jemmy sat up slowly. Aaron handed him a water bottle and a pack of crackers from a vending machine, which Jemmy took gratefully. “Thanks, Aaron.”Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked down, “I can’t help but think some of this might be my fault. For making you worry about me.”“I don’t give a shit about you,” Jemmy laughed, swallowing a bit of a cracker, and a sip of water. Aaron smiled, “Alright. That makes me feel a bit better.”More muffled conversation from the room next to theirs: the laughter died down, and Alexander’s commanding voice could be heard, singular, again. Jemmy chewed thoughtfully while listening. No, he’d have to just let it be. The thought burned him. “It’s not fair.” He spoke up.Aaron had been staring out a nearby window at the glittering, melting snow. He turned, “What?”Jemmy’s strength came back in bits and pieces. “I worked my ass off for this conference. I put together the slides, I made sure Alexander stayed on topic. Look, no offense, but while you two were doing God knows what last night I was the one putting the finishing touches on it all.”“You went out with Dolley.”“After that,” Jemmy insisted. “I managed my time. There’s a balance to these things, you know? And what do I get for my troubles? The minute I get up in front of anyone, any crowd, I lose it. It’s absolutely ridiculous.” He’d never felt this defeated. Jemmy knew he wasn’t being entirely honest in his feelings. He finished the last of his crackers and threw out the wrapper.“People are going to wonder what happened to you. Don’t you at least want to go in there and… I don’t know. Shake some hands? Think of how excited everyone will be to see you’re alright.” Aaron tried.“Yeah.”More chatter from the conference room interrupted them; this time, with a distinctly more serious tone. Jemmy ran a hand through his hair, and began slowly pacing-- figuring himself out. “What’s really bothering you?” Aaron asked. “It’s just…” Jemmy sighed. “I feel so silly complaining about it. When I say it out-loud it sounds childish.” He took the dive. “I was expecting my friend Thomas to be here. And Dolley said she’d be here, too. And neither of them kept their promises. Dolley especially,” he concluded, softer. “I can talk to Dolley, if you want. She’s just--”“--Thank you, but that’s not the point,” Jemmy cut him off emphatically. “There will be other opportunities like this,” Aaron reasoned, crossing his arms. Alexander’s voice hit a crescendo in the other room-- responding to someone’s low, murmured question-- and the two men paused for a moment to listen. Jemmy made a face and shook his head, focusing on the conversation at hand, “Aaron-- I know you mean well, but… can I be honest with you?”“...Sure.”“You’re not...I don’t know how to say this delicately so I’m just going to come out with it. You’re not very focused. On the future, I mean,” Jemmy said in one breath. “You just sort of coast. I’m not saying you’re a bad person but I can’t just brush off this missed opportunity with an ‘Oh, well. Better luck next time.’ This is bad. This is the worst-case scenario.”Aaron uncrossed his arms, and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. Jemmy watched his expression for some minute change, and saw nothing. He wondered if Aaron had even been listening to him; Alexander’s lone voice carrying through the walls again. As if reading his mind, Aaron looked up at Jemmy again, and nodded slowly. The door to their small room opened, and Bets appeared, pink-cheeked, “Hi. Hello-- I’m sorry-- Jemmy, are you well?”Jemmy blinked, “Yes. Sorry. I was planning on heading back over in a moment,” he lied.Bets opened her mouth to speak, and was interrupted by another shout. She winced, then, “I think you should come back right now. Alexander’s...things are turning a bit...um... confrontational--”“--What?” Aaron interrupted, coming toward her. He slid past Bets and headed over to the conference room without a second look at Jemmy.“Oh no…” Jemmy muttered, unsure he even wanted to see what was happening. “The Q & A section started out well enough. A couple people were able to ask some things, including me. But after I finished--” Bets faltered, leading Jemmy to the other room where a man’s voice was raised, defensively, “-- Someone asked about Alexander’s sources, I think, and he...took it personally--”The came upon the conference: it looked, to Jemmy, as though even more people had shown up to see the verbal brawl. His stomach dropped at the sight. A lone attendee Jemmy didn’t recognize had stepped up to ask a question and was currently two feet from Alexander-- a dangerously volatile mood simmering between them. Alexander’s dark expression and gesticulating hands told Jemmy everything he needed to know.  Aaron stood between the pair, trying to calm Alexander. He had a handful of Alexander’s rumbled shirt fabric in his hand, “Hamilton. Hamilton -- get a grip--”“--I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, questioning my methods,” Alexander sneered at the attendee, “What exactly are your credentials? Some night classes at the local community college? Let me guess, your mommy and daddy are so proud of you--”“Hey fuck you, man,” the attendee shouted, lunging. Several people gasped, and Jemmy made a move to stop him. Aaron pushed forward definitively, using all his strength to shove Alexander back behind the podium, toward a side door, and through it, all while Alexander continued his harangue. The door slammed and his words were cut off all at once, leaving the low murmur of the uncomfortable audience as the only sound filling the room. Jemmy managed to get the attendee to sit back down, hyperventilating. The attendee looked up at him, “What the fuck is that guy’s deal? Jesus Christ.”“I’m so sorry-- I--” Jemmy babbled. “--He should be escorted out by security,” Someone offered. “There’s no place for that, here,” a different voice shouted. Jemmy cleared his throat, and made to respond, before he felt a larger presence at his side. Looking up, he saw Washington making his way toward the podium, leaning down into the mic from his considerable height, speaking calmly. “I believe that marks the end of this particular presentation,”  he remarked, almost droll. Some of the attendees laughed nervously; others began gathering their belongings and making their way toward the exit. Washington’s steady, professional voice rang out again, “Important to remember some of our presenters are novices at this. Thank you all for bearing with us.”Bets appeared at Jemmy’s side, “Good God.”Jemmy covered his face.“Mr. Madison, is it?” Washington asked him, unplugging the USB drive from the laptop and handing it to him.“Yes. Thank you.” Jemmy pocketed it.The older man paused for a moment, crossing his arms and surveying the dispersing crowd. He pursed his lips. “Well," Washington remarked with a cold eye, while Jemmy's face burned, "I guess No one’s talking about you fainting, anymore." *** From the adjoining room, the same one he’d just helped Jemmy to only minutes before, Aaron glared at Alexander. The latter man leaned against an eight foot tall stack of chairs, jaw set, staring furiously at nothing. “You have to apologize.” Aaron barked. “Fuck him.”“You don’t even know the man’s name. He’s a complete stranger, and you humiliated him. For asking a simple question,” Aaron lifted a hand and let it drop against his leg. Alexander turned scarlet, “He insulted me.” “You don’t even know him,” Aaron insisted. “Why are you taking it personally?” He watched Alexander struggle with the logic of it, or lack thereof. He watched the spark flare behind Alexander’s eyes again. “And he doesn’t know me,” Alexander turned his bright gaze on Aaron, “So why would he think to challenge me like that? I’m the one who’s the expert here. I’m the one giving the presentation.”“What exactly did he say?” Aaron asked.Alexander’s color deepened again as he relived the indignities. His words came out low and halting, “He brought up my past. He’d done some digging and found out about my scholarship and childhood. He questioned my intentions. I was talking about how to run a successful business and he questioned the ethics of whether or not someone who ‘was raised by a criminal mother that owned a small convenience store that laundered money’--” He faltered, and Aaron thought he might cry. Alexander swallowed it, stony, “--I”m not going to let people talk to me like that. I don’t give a shit what the circumstances are.”Aaron approached him slowly, “He was out of line for that, you’re right.”“I know.”“You probably already know this, but if you want to...live this life, you have to grow a thicker skin,” Aaron offered quietly. Alexander’s swift reply, “Don’t lecture me, Burr.”Aaron quieted, thought for a moment, and then pressed on, pointing in the direction of the now-emptied conference room, “You’re going to hear a lot worse than that in your line of work. Especially given your...background. I know you don't want to hear this, but it's the truth.""Don't talk about my background," Alexander's eyes flashed dangerously, "I already heard it from them, I don't need it from you, too.""That's the cost of accomplishment, Hamilton. There are going to be people who want to relish in your failures simply because you’re a success. It doesn’t matter what kind of self-righteous bullshit you cloak yourself in.”“So now it’s bullshit,” Alexander turned to him and Aaron noticed he’d been chewing a spot on his lip so hard it looked swollen and red, “Thanks.”“Gentlemen, there you are.” The door to their small side room opened, and Washington strode in. He walked over to Alexander, cutting off Aaron’s line-of sight, “I wanted to make sure you were alright. Mr. Madison wanted me to let you know he’d gone back to his room for the night. I believe he is still feeling unwell.”Alexander’s mouth opened, and nothing came out. Washington talked on confidently, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, and slipping out a business card. He handed it to Alexander, who accepted it like it was a piece of gold, continuing,  “You know, as much as I hate those sorts of confrontations, I really do admire your conviction, Mr. Hamilton. I think the world needs a bit more fire like that. Someone has to crack some heads sometimes.”“Yeah, I…”Washington cut him off by indicating to the card, “I have to catch a flight. I want you to keep me in mind, in the future. I think you know what I mean.”He gave a brief, terse nod to Aaron, who was certain Washington still didn’t know his name, and left, pulling out his cellphone to make a call as he slipped out the door. Aaron watched Alexander watch the older man, until he spun around with a brightened expression. “Did that just happen?”Aaron nodded mutely. Alexander looked at the business card again, “He wants me to contact him for a job. Holy shit.”“He’s rewarding your terrible behavior,” Aaron muttered. Alexander’s excitement was infectious, and the tension from their argument dissipated. “You say terrible, he says dynamic,” Alexander shrugged. “And no offense, but unless you can offer me six figures and a title, keep your opinions to yourself.” Alexander looked at him, pocketing the card, “Sorry. That came out meaner than I intended. I’m just…”Aaron held up a hand, “It’s fine.”Alexander checked his phone, exhaling and steadying his racing heart, “Just got a text from Jemmy. He says… oh, for God’s sake. What a drama queen.”“What is it?” Aaron walked over. “He says he’s leaving tonight, instead of tomorrow morning. Says he’s embarrassed.”Aaron struggled with the back and forth of Alexander’s emotions, trying to keep up. Jemmy? A drama queen? He couldn’t muster anything but a sympathetic look and a head-shake, ushering Alexander from the room, hoping that the nonverbal response would suffice. Alexander would want to talk about it all again, he was sure of it. When or where, Aaron couldn’t begin to guess. He let Alexander carry the conversation, hopping from subject to subject. He stole a glance at him as they walked back through the now-empty conference room, down the lobby hallway and toward the elevators that would take them to their floor. Callous-- that’s the word you’re looking for. No, Aaron corrected himself internally, that wasn’t quite it, either. Aaron wondered what it would be like to be gifted with some marketable talent, something no one could steal from you, right from birth. It was security, in a way.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Aaron placed the dog-eared, slightly used book of Rousseau’s writings on the front counter. “I’d like to return this, please.”Tea looked up from her seat behind the counter, engrossed in a magazine, pushing her glasses to the top of her head, “Oh?” She stood up and examined it, then Aaron. “I recognize you. You were here a few months ago. Intro to philosophy class, spring semester?”“Yes…” Aaron suddenly felt awkward. He hadn’t planned on being recognized. Tea thumbed through the book again, “Well? How did it go?”“I don’t know. Normally.” Aaron shifted his weight. Behind him, down the busy main street of the mid-sized town, traffic started and stopped. Rush hour in early May: the evening was balmy, students talked about their summer plans while walking up and down the sidewalk, excitedly, and Aaron was alone. “Did you read the whole thing? For class?” Tea asked, testily. “I did. And it was terrible. Tell me how I am supposed to glean any philosophical knowledge reading about one man’s spanking fetish for hundreds of pages. He’s insane.”“That’s reductive.” She slid the book into a bin beside the cash register, where Aaron had only just noticed a small pile of other returned books. “And we’re not a library, you know. I’m really not even supposed to take returns after thirty days. You don’t even have your receipt, do you?”Aaron opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He wasn’t prepared for a fight. Tea sighed, and began processing the return. Aaron looked at her, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, and a slight chip in her glasses. Her cellphone, perched precariously on the counter to her other side, lit up in five bright repetitions, a string of multiple texts. She seemed harried, on edge. He decided not to push it. “You can just… I don’t know. Let me trade it in for something else. I don’t need my money back.” Aaron offered. “Again. I’m not a library.”“You know what-- forget it. Sorry to bother you.” Aaron grabbed the book from the small bin and turned on his heel, prepared to head back out-- back down the crowded street in the tranquil evening air to his empty apartment to sulk. Really, inadvertently pissing off the bookstore owner was the cherry on top of the terrible sundae that was his past month. “No, come on,” Tea called after him, sighing. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time. You can trade it in for something else.”“I don’t want to if it will get you in trouble with your boss.”“...I own the store.”Aaron’s skin burned again. He should have been prepared for this embarrassment. The way his life was going lately it was any wonder he hadn’t been struck by lightning or fallen down a manhole or mauled by a rabid dog-- or some other freak accident. “Of course. I’m sorry,” Aaron placed the book back on the counter again and rubbed his eyes while Tea processed the exchange. She tapped the keys on the cash register silently, rote, and placed the book back in its pile. “I’ll hold this up here if you want to go pick something else out. Or write you an IOU if you want to come back. I’m here twenty-four seven anyway.” At this, her cell phone rang out again and she swore, “For fuck’s sake,” before grabbing it and answering. Aaron stood there awkwardly, unsure, while she spoke to the person on the other end. “I can’t drop everything and pick you up. You’re being selfish-- I don’t know! You’re sixteen, figure it out. That’s your father’s problem, not mine. You’re not going to do this, Fred-- no, listen to me very carefully: You’re not pitting us against each other like that. Hey, watch your language!” Tea turned her back to him, pulling the phone from her ear and looking at the screen, “He hung up on me. My God.” She looked at Aaron again, pink-faced. “I’m sorry about that.”“It’s okay. Sounds like a crisis,” Aaron offered her a small smile. Tea exhaled loudly and shook her head, “It’s my son. He and his brother are staying with their father until school lets out next month, at which point they’ll be with me for the summer, but my eldest is demanding I come get him right now. It never ceases to amaze me how selfish teenagers are.”For the second time that evening, Aaron was rendered speechless.Tea paused what she was doing, “What?”“I didn’t… did you say you have teenage sons? Sorry, I thought you were like twenty-three.”“...How would a twenty-three year old be able to own and operate a small business by themselves?” Tea looked at him, exasperated. “My hair is grey.”“I thought it was dyed. I don’t know!”“For God’s sake,” Tea muttered, but Aaron could see she was pleased. She pulled out a large ledger, wrote a note, and slid it back beneath the counter. She looked up again, “I’ll take the book back, no questions, as long as you promise not to treat my store like a library and to not do this again.”Aaron remarked, “Fair.”“Did you want to go look for something else? I’ll wait here-- keep in mind I’m closing in fifteen minutes,” Tea added, indicating to an old, bleary clock hanging above a door marked ‘employees only’. “Yeah. Yes. I’ll make it quick,” Aaron said.He made his way through the stacks, eyes darting over the rows of books, unable to land on a single one. Something to distract him, to fill his mind and free time while he waited for his exam results, that was the goal. He paused at the true crime display and tilted his head to read the titles. He didn’t have a genre preference, or a favorite author. Frankly, Aaron really did judge books literally by their covers. He pulled one out with an image of a burned corpse on the front, darkly intrigued. His mind wandered. Summer would be a mess, distracted or not. Jemmy had moved out the moment he aced his final class, and not a second later. Since the conference, their interactions had been terse-- coldly professional-- not necessarily hostile but the friendly rapport they shared had dissipated. Jemmy was all business, burying himself in his books more than usual. In fact, he hadn’t gone out with Aaron all semester.Aaron tried to talk to him about it. Jemmy was predictably tactful, but guarded. “I’m terribly busy, Aaron. It’s nothing personal. I’m trying to wrap things up here so I can move. It’s my final semester, you know how complicated things get.” Really? Aaron wanted to ask. They’re not complicated for me. But he let it slide. Jemmy couldn’t talk about what he really wanted to-- Dolley-- for fear of upsetting Aaron and putting him in an even more awkward position. Aaron’s questions piled up: have you called her? If not, I’m sure she’s wondering about you. What is the state of things between you, now? She likes you, I know she does. But his roommate was as solid as stone. Jemmy picked out an apartment halfway between Charlottesville and Richmond and was packed, loaded, and gone in one single weekend. He left what was due on his portion of the lease in an envelope on the kitchen counter, the amount to the penny scrawled out on a personal check. An empty apartment wasn’t so terrible, at first. Aaron moved from one book aisle to the next, and a series of gaudy romance paperbacks greeted him. He inhaled deeply, flipping through one, dust mites encircling him. Alexander. The conference ended and they headed back to New York City and Princeton, respectively. They resumed their once-in-a-while hook-ups, to Aaron’s great relief. They met at Sarah’s apartment, just one final time, because Aaron had discovered she’d placed cameras in every room except the bathrooms. “Fucking weirdos,” Aaron hissed, and he and Alexander had to make do with a cramped shower. It was still exciting: off-the-beaten-path hotels, Alexander’s place, when Bobby had gone to visit his parents for the weekend, a secluded, overgrown section of a park. A public bathroom, once, much to their shared disgust. They enjoyed themselves regardless; half the fun was hoping they didn’t get caught.But still, Aaron worried that Alexander had had enough of him, or grew tired of him, and would end it there, just like that. Alexander often did things without warning-- which was frankly one of Aaron’s favorite things about him--showing up unannounced at his apartment one Friday afternoon in February much to the exasperation of Jemmy.  “It’s your birthday,” Alexander announced confidently, striding into the living room and planting a kiss on Aaron’s cheek. “My birthday was two weeks ago.”“I thought it was the twentieth?” Alexander’s smile faded. His well-meaning gesture coated over the reality of the situation. Aaron was too perceptive to let it pass by, unnoticed. They weren’t as close as Aaron thought. Still, though, he stayed the night, and it was as good a birthday present as Aaron ever had. Alexander kept him at arm’s length. Aaron realized that that’s how it had always been, and perhaps he’d been living in a fantasy. Alexander was temperamental, an ephemeral beam of light cutting through his life. Future was not a word in their vocabulary. And most days, Aaron was fine with it. Frankly, the thought of settling down made him itch. The prospect of individual success was too tempting. But when Alexander had voiced that exact thought-- as if plucking it directly out of Aaron’s mind-- something warm thickened inside of him. “Hey--” Tea’s voice stopped Aaron’s train of thought, and he turned to look at her. She raised a finger, “Five minutes. There’s a sushi place I want to try that’s inaccessible after six thirty, and I’m not taking any chances.”“Right, sorry-- I’ll be right over,” Aaron waved back at her. He made his way back over to the true crime section, feeling sour. His grandfather’s face caught his eye on one of the book covers. Well, he thought, reading about your own family from an outsider’s perspective would at least be unique. Something different to pass the time. Aaron shuffled the book from the shelf and carried back over to Tea, who was already packed. She took it, reading the title, “Oh… them.” She pursed her lips. “I think you’ll like this one. The author makes some interesting observations about the four deaths. I won’t spoil it for you, but it left me a bit shaken.” Aaron looked at her and smiled again, “I don’t know how I feel about it.”“Oh, he’s mostly respectful,” Tea remarked, ringing him up. “Honestly, journalists looking to make a quick buck with the crime genre make me a little uncomfortable but Edwards was just so cruel in his life I can’t feel too sorry for him. It’s the kids I feel bad for. Having to grow up in that shadow, how awful. It all happened so long ago, I suppose they’re adults now, maybe they’re fine, who knows--”“--I hear the son’s really fucked up.”Tea raised her eyebrows, grabbing her purse, “Really? That’s so sad.”Aaron slipped the receipt inside the front cover of his new book and dropped it inside his backpack, following her to the door, “Yeah. Real piece of shit.”Tea stepped out onto the sidewalk, locking the door behind her, shaking her head, “Well, that’s what wealth does to people, I guess. I can’t even imagine.” She walked on, talking, Aaron followed. “My ex-husband’s family is...like that. Rich. Not as rich as Edwards but enough to make them completely out of touch.”Aaron struggled with a response, hoping to sound interested, but not judgemental. “Your kids get along with him, though, right?”“More or less. I’m worried he’ll corrupt them.” Tea paused. “He can give them so much more than I can.”Aaron suddenly felt guilty, walking alongside her toward what he assumed was the aforementioned sushi restaurant. He hadn’t meant to pry, and hadn’t meant to be disingenuous. “I haven’t been completely honest, I’m sorry.”Tea looked at him quizzically, “What?”“That’s my-- the man in the book. My family. Edwards.” His words tumbled out. “I’m the kid. Well, was. I mean I still am. But I’m an adult now, obviously. You’re right about him, though, my grandfather was completely fucked-up, but it wasn’t the money that made him that way--”“--Wait, what?” Tea closed her eyes and held out her hand to stop him. “What are you trying to say?”“Edwards was my grandfather. I’m Aaron.”Tea turned white, then red, “Oh… oh God, I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t mean--”“--It’s fine,” Aaron insisted. “I’ve heard so much worse. And frankly I agree with you, about everything.”“You must think I’m a complete moron,” Tea covered her eyes, then ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. The pair had stopped at an intersection, pedestrians making their way around them. “No, I’m the moron. I should have said something the minute you brought it up. I hope you don’t think I’m weird,” Aaron replied in one breath. “Didn’t you just buy a copy of a book about your own life?” Tea asked. A grin slowly spread across her face. “That is weird.”Aaron had no answer for this. A brusque man in a suit pushed past him, in a rush. The light turned red again, and they were stuck at the street corner while cars sped past. Tea studied him, “Do you want to try this sushi place with me? I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in picking your brain a bit...about everything. Only if you want to. I’m sorry if that’s weird. I’m just so curious. Full disclosure.”He blinked, caught off guard, “I...yeah. Sure. I don’t mind. I don’t remember a lot but--” “--And you can obviously tell me off if I say something out of line,” Tea cut him off as the light turned green and they crossed the road. She indicated a thin building squeezed between a salon and an accountant, the inside of which was already starting to fill up with a dinner crowd. Aaron looked around: six tables, four of which were taken. The appetizing smell made his stomach grumble. They stood in line silently for a moment before Tea spoke again, “I hope I’m not keeping you from other plans. Seriously, you don’t have to stay.”Aaron studied the menu, “Trust me, I have nothing better to do.”They placed their orders and grabbed the last empty table, a tall two-seater in the front corner, next to the window facing the sidewalk. Tea disappeared to fill up a paper cup with soda from the fountain, and Aaron took a sip from a plastic water bottle, absentmindedly toying with a pair of chopsticks. She reappeared and hoisted herself onto the tall stool, smiling, sipping her drink. “Do you usually get crazy people talking your ear off about your life, or am I special?” She grinned at a waiter who dropped off their sushi orders, thanking him before he made his way back to the kitchen. “Well, you’re special,” Aaron replied, chuckling, “But I also think you’re crazy for giving a shit. It’s not that interesting, I promise.”“I’m sure it’s not to you, because it’s your reality,” Tea countered. “I just want to know what it was like, growing up like that, did you feel… I don’t know. Different?”“A bit, yes.” Aaron shoved a sushi roll into his mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed, “But like you said, it was my reality. I didn’t know anything different. My aunt and uncle kept us pretty cloistered. I mean, away from the media and the books and stuff.”“Oh, yes. Your sister.”“She and I aren’t terribly close, but…” Aaron trailed off and stared outside. But, what? You used her and her husband’s goodwill when you were at your lowest and frequented her apartment with your fuckbuddy without her permission? He realized Tea was staring at him, waiting. He looked back at his food, situating his chopsticks, “...I wish we were. I think the opportunity has passed.”Tea nodded solemnly, “I have a half-sister. She’s a bum. Sometimes family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”“Well, Sarah’s not a bum, but she… she’s really buying into the Bible-thumping BS lately. I mean, she’s not as bad as my grandfather but she likes to paint this picture of a perfect little life, all sanctioned by Jesus. They all do. You know, I had never heard the phrase ‘black sheep’ until I was a teenager? That’s exactly what I feel like.”“Say no more,” Tea laughed. “I don’t want to be associated with them, but I don’t have a choice. And literally every opportunity I have is because of them,” Aaron added. “I can’t fucking stand it knowing that I owe people like that anything.”“Hm,” Tea nodded again, chewing thoughtfully, “I get that. Totally. Like I said, my ex-husband--Jacques-- is the same way. But he’s not even aware of it. Just so entitled. He showers our sons in these expensive things, this lavish life, and then sends them back to me spoiled rotten for them to complain all summer about how awful it is here, and then he wonders why I’m always furious with him. He took them to Fiji for spring break. I mean, how am I supposed to compete with that?”“I’m sure he’s got good intentions, right?”Tea shook her head, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how this turned into my own personal bitch-fest. Here I am complaining about this while someone who has real problems sits right across from me.”Aaron gave her another smile, “I’d rather hear about how your ex-husband fared, dragging two teenage boys across the world to a remote island that almost certainly did not have a decent internet connection. Doesn’t seem very well thought out to me. Actually, it sounds moronic.”Tea’s face split into a grin, and she laughed. “It was moronic. He’s in mid-life crisis mode.”“Ah.”“He’s going to be forty in July and he’s being a nightmare about it. I’ll be thirty-nine in one week and you don’t see me whining and wailing. God I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with his shit anymore,” Tea took a sip of her soda. “Stay single for as long as you can. Put off having kids. Live your life.”“Noted,” Aaron studied her. “We were married so young. I got pregnant quickly and it all went downhill from there.” Tea straightened her back, finishing the last of the sushi on her plate, “No, you know what-- I’m not going to dwell on it.”“You have a thriving business,” Aaron offered. “Yes I do.”“As long as shithead students don’t treat it like a library.” “As long as shithead students don’t treat it like a library.” Tea echoed. “That was one thing I was adamant about in the divorce. Keep your assets. Give me the business. I’ll make my own way.”“You sound like my friend,” Aaron muttered before he could stop himself. Tea looked at him, interested. He went on, “He’s very independent.”“Well that’s good.”“He and I met through my family, incidentally,” Aaron looked out the window at a group of people standing in a circle, talking and smiling. “He came here on a scholarship. We hit it off. Kind of. Anyway, he’s very adamant about being his own man. He’s...” Aaron suddenly felt strange. Tea stared at him, waiting, while he searched for the words. How much to reveal. Tea completed the thought for him, “Another reminder of your family’s power.”“Sort of,” Aaron exhaled, putting his chin in his hand. “He’s...it’s complicated, with him. We’re...more than friends, but not together. I can’t get a read on him one way or another.”“Uh oh.” Aaron blinked, “What?”“I know that look,” Tea replied. “He’s a nightmare, isn’t he.”Aaron’s mouth hung open for a moment. He gathered his response. “No. I never said-- I mean, alright. He’s difficult. But he’s--”“--Then why bother?” Tea asked bluntly. Aaron gave her a knowing look. She rolled her eyes and fell back in her seat, “Please. The sex can’t be that good. I had a ‘friend’ like that in college, too. She was a mess. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”I just like him. He’s fun. He keeps me on my toes. We make each other laugh. Every excuse Aaron could come up with felt flat and weak against Tea’s mature insight. He looked around the over-crowded restaurant, then back at Tea, who was checking her cell phone.“Do you think we should head out? I think the owners want to move as many patrons through here as possible. I don’t want to sit here and take up space.”“Oh! You’re absolutely right.” Tea looked up at him, bright. “I should really get home. I’m sure Fred will be calling me about something or other.”They gathered their trash and dumped it in the waste bin, then stepped outside. The crowd had thinned a bit, and an evening chill settled into the town. Aaron cleared his throat, wanting to hear more from Tea-- about her life, what she’d been through, if he could derive any comfort from her lived experiences. His words failed him and the moment passed. He looked over at her, slamming a palm against the crosswalk button.“I live about three blocks that way, in an apartment complex,” Tea explained as they stood waiting. “It’s small but… it’s cozy, I guess. How about you?”“In some student housing by the University.”“Oh, of course.” She replied brightly. The light changed, and she stepped onto the crosswalk, smiling back at him, “Well, it’s been nice talking to you. Stop by the store again, and let me know how you liked that book-- if they got anything right or if it was all a lie.”Aaron waved, and watched her leave; an eighteen wheeler rolled through the street, blocking his view of her for two seconds, and then she was gone. Well, he stood there, looking around. At least he had something to look forward to. He hitched his backpack up and turned, heading in the opposite direction Tea had gone, back to his empty apartment. He ascended the stairs to the third floor landing, jingled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal Alexander sitting casually on the couch. Aaron nearly jumped out of his skin. “Hamilton-- Jesus Christ, you’re going to give me a heart attack-- how did you--”Alexander stood, stifling a laugh, “Sorry, you gave me a key, remember?” He hugged Aaron, and shut the door. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”“Too late,” Aaron exhaled, dropping his keys into a bowl on a table by the door. He dropped his backpack and made his way to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? I already had dinner but you can help yourself to whatever.”Alexander leaned over the counter, watching Aaron in the small kitchen pour himself a glass of white wine, “Yeah, I saw what you had in your pantry. You need fruit. You’re going to get scurvy.”“No one gets scurvy anymore.”“Until they do.”“Why are you here?” Aaron looked at him, figuring the answer had something to do with Alexander’s unceasing libido. “It’s not what you think,” Alexander corrected Aaron’s train of thought. He grinned, leaning in on his folded arms, closer, “Guess who I just got off the phone with.”“The Queen of England.”“Philip Schuyler.” Alexander replied, moving a stool out from underneath the counter, sitting neatly. Aaron finished his wine, “Am I supposed to know who that is?”“Yes. God, do you pay attention to anything at all?” Alexander said. “Did you not meet his daughter at the conference? She and her family are some of the wealthiest people in Albany.”Aaron raised his eyebrows sarcastically, “Oh my. Albany. How exciting.”“You’re such a pretentious prick sometimes. Pour me a glass of that, would you?” Alexander smiled, and indicated the bottle of chardonnay. “Anyway, his daughter Bets introduced herself to me at the Q & A after my presentation and asked me some questions about starting a charity business for a group home for orphaned and abandoned children-- well, that piqued my interest, for obvious reasons-- but we got to talking and she mentioned something about her father needing a business law guy on retainer. I offered my services.”“Alexander, you haven’t even passed the bar yet.” Aaron grinned at him, and handed him a glass. Alexander shrugged it off, “One year, tops. The important thing is that I have something secured. Which is more than you can say.”“Did you just come here to brag?”“Yes.”Aaron studied him, resisting the urge to laugh. Alexander was infectious, he’d give him that. Aaron raised his glass, “Well, congratulations, then. I hope it works out for you.”Alexander mimicked the movement, “It will.”“If I had even one-fourth of your confidence…” Aaron trailed off, sipping, watching him. “Fake it until you make it.”Aaron finally gave in to the laugh that sat at the top of his chest, “What ‘rise-n-grind’ Instagram post did you steal that from? You’re killing me, Hamilton.”Alexander smiled at him, “But are they wrong? Look at how far I’ve come.”“You’re not fake.”Alexander’s smile darkened and he wordlessly lifted himself from the stool. He sat on the couch, placed his wine glass on the coffee table, and pulled out his phone, face illuminated in the dim living room. “Anyway,” he continued, “I am relieved to have some sort of prospect for the future. That’s what the conference was for. I’m glad it served its purpose.”Aaron sat next to him, delicately, “Alexander… I’m really happy for you.”“...But…?” Alexander eyed him.“I’m… worried. That you’re jumping too soon, at the first opportunity.” The wine loosened Aaron up, the same way it had the night at the empty beach house. “Are you sure it’s the right move? I mean, you hardly know these people.”Alexander shrugged it off. “If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. I’ll be all the more experienced for it.”Aaron bit his tongue; another lost opportunity. He wanted to talk about the friends of his family-- the ones who put their trust in the wrong people, who promised quick wealth-- and wound up ruined because of it. He looked at Alexander reaching for the stem of his glass, fingers calloused from writing so much by hand, and wanted to shake him. He was an exposed nerve.“I’m thinking once I pass the bar later this year I can work on finding a small place in town. Bobby can sublet my room. God, I’ll save so much money not living in the city,” Alexander shook his head. “I won’t even need a roommate. I’ll be able to live on my own for once. I can start saving for a house. For the future. Repaying my loans...” He trailed off, misty-eyed at the thought of financial security. He stared out the window and took a sip of wine. “You’re going to give up a lot, moving there,” Aaron said. “What are my options, exactly?”“Albany is beneath you.” Aaron remarked in one breath. Alexander blinked, digesting it. Then, “It’s fine.”“It’s provincial, and you’re going to wilt.”“I’m going to wilt?” Alexander repeated. “I’m not a plant. And who are you to say? I’ve lived much worse. I’ve lived in ‘provincial’. Albany is not provincial, and it’s ignorant of you to say so. Say what you really mean or I’m stealing your bottle of wine and going home.”Aaron’s thoughts coalesced. “I think you should stay in the city. I think you and I should practice together.” At this, Alexander laughed again, “I see.”“What’s so funny?”Alexander’s demeanor changed, “Either you’ve been thinking this for months, and only now choose to tell me because you want to dampen my spirits, or you’ve only just come up with this idea, off-hand, and you’re not serious about it. Which is it?”Once again, Aaron’s mouth hung open, silent. He watched the sharp thought travel across Alexander’s features: from his lips to his close-knit eyes, narrowing, across his cheeks. Truthfully, yes. It was a little bit of both. “I’m not going to have this argument with you,” Alexander’s mood refused to be dampened. He stood up and waved a hand, brushing it aside, “Why don’t you follow me to Albany? I’m sure Mr. Schuyler could find a firm for you. There will be time in the future to… I don’t know what it is exactly that you have planned. Have a loft in Manhattan.” He thought for a minute, face brightening, “Oh! I know-- Bobby mentioned wanting to start at a practice in the city, I’m almost certain he--”“--I don’t want Bobby, I want you.”Alexander shook his head and began to pace, “So that’s what this is really about.” Aaron stirred, “Was that not clear from the get-go?”“I’ve been here before, you know. In almost this exact position. I’m not doing it again. We agreed from the beginning that this was just about hooking-up, nothing deeper. I don’t think we could have been more plain.”“Who said it can't stay that way? Who said anything about a relationship? I’m talking about you and I opening a practice together,” Aaron interjected, grinning. “We compliment each other nicely. We...fill in each other’s gaps.”Alexander shot him a look, “You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.”“Oh, come on, Hamilton. Don’t be so serious about it. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”“This is serious,” Alexander responded. “What is it, exactly, that you want, that I can’t give you?” Aaron looked at him plainly. “I am being crystal clear. You say you want to keep our relationship as-is, fine. I think you are a rising star. And I want to be next to you. It’s purely selfish, my motives, if that makes you feel any better.”“I want a wife. I want kids, and big fucking house, and security-- I want to be able to give my kids a trust,” Alexander gave him another look, “I told you all of this months ago. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear it.”Aaron followed him, “Wife, kids, big house. Got it.”“And so what that means is there may not be room for you.” Alexander said bluntly. Suddenly, it was as if all his anxieties came pouring out at once. “I don’t know what you want, exactly. I know what you don’t want. I know what you hate and what you think is beneath you. But you can’t build a life on that, Burr. Negative space.”Negative space, a vacuum, an outline. Aaron recalled his uncle calling him Little Burr. People assumed it was a term of endearment, but he knew better. It wasn’t. That’s what his family thought of him: an irritating little plant burr, picked up haphazardly on a walk through the woods.“Are you listening?” Alexander’s voice slid through his impromptu reminiscence. “Yes, for Christ’s sake, I’m listening. You’ve driven the knife in, do you need to twist it now, too?” Aaron snapped. This seemed to settle Alexander, and his shoulders fell slightly, “Look, I didn’t want this to turn into a fight. I came over because I was excited about this news, and I thought you would be too. This is exactly how I imagined my life going. Everything I’ve been working toward. Schuyler is going to give me the leg up and I’ll do the rest.” As if he were checking it off a list. Alexander’s glow came back at the prospect. He walked back and forth across the living room, gesticulating, expounding.“Schuyler explained he wants fresh eyes. He doesn’t want some old dotard stuck in his ways-- he wants an energetic lawyer at his side who--”“--He wants someone with no experience and no social life so he can chain him to a desk seventy hours a week, putting out fires and plugging holes,” Aaron cut in sourly. “You’re going to be a glorified accountant.”“Well, naturally, there will be dues to pay, yes.” And on Alexander went, a new tangent catching his fancy; it was as if he hadn’t felt the needle.  *** Just so we’re clear-- just so there’s no misunderstanding-- Alexander glared coldly at himself in the mirror-- you’re doing this. This is the right way, and the only way. You’re not going to end up like your goddamn father, swinging from vine to vine before dropping off the face of the earth. And you’re not going to end up like your mother, either, destitute and desperate for love. This is how things go for functioning members of society: the degree, the job, the life. You’ve seen it in movies. The train ride back to the city was miserable. The conductor had decided to blast the patrons with inappropriately frigid A/C and Alexander wandered up to his apartment bedroom with frozen fingers that felt as though they belonged to a ninety-two year old arthritic. All he could think about was Gouv, and his missing leg, if it felt similar. He didn’t have a chance to ask before they parted ways. But there would be time for all that. He dropped his bag off on the old, lumpy couch, and made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door, and faced himself. Aaron had ripped the wind right out of his sails. His compliment, couched and barbed beneath arrogance: That life is beneath you. You’re going to wilt.  It stuck in the back of his throat, the way he said it, slicing Alexander open with the precision of a surgeon. Alexander grabbed a toothbrush and began brushing, preparing for bed. He spat. He should have seen this coming, the way they’d been carrying on. Nothing that burns that hot can last forever. He felt it in his ribs; his gut. One flash-- and then it’s over.