Counterpoint

Chapter 2

Alexander

The leather seats of Thomas's car are slippery underneath my rain dampened clothes. I try not to fidget too much as Thomas sits in the driver seat, skimming through his phone as he waits for the car to warm up. He doesn't even glance in my direction as he leans back in his seat, seeming to ignore the annoying moisture that has saturated in our clothing. My fingers tap nervously on the top of my thighs as I struggle to ignore the tidal waves of rain that are pelting against the windshield with flashes of lightening illuminating the pelting raindrops.

I close my eyes in an attempt to transport myself to somewhere else inside of my mind. Anywhere else. This isn't a hurricane Alex. I have to continue to remind myself of the obvious facts. I am no longer in the Caribbean. I am in the United States of America. I am no longer a clerk. I am a politician. My life holds weight in the future of the country and all of the people that I care about. I am no longer an orphan boy desperately trying to make ends meet.

"Are you really that tired that you are falling asleep in my car? We've only been sitting in here for a few minutes Hamilton." Jefferson grumbles as he puts the car into gear.

"I'm not sleeping." I grumble in response.

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm thinking."

"Is it too difficult for you to do that with your eyes open?"

I just remain silent. I have no interest in telling him the real reason behind me keeping my eyes closed. Not only wouldn't he understand but he would surely use this information to his own advantage when it came to manipulating me at work. He has never missed any opportunity to undermine me at work. It is the knowledge that he would do just about anything to steal away the power and influence that I have worked so hard to obtain that makes this moment so curious.

He pulls out into the street and and I can hear the wet rush of water underneath the tires as they race over the pavement. I peek out from underneath my lashes and see the familiar yellow glow of streetlights as they blur past the windows as the windshield wipers frantically swing back and forth like the frantic arms of a drowning person. My heart falters at the thought.

Why do I do this to myself?

"You're not going to be sick are you?"

"No." I murmur quietly.

"Good, this is a nice car please don't make me have to clean your vomit off of the leather."

"I will attempt to refrain." I grumble. How can one person be so aggravating? I can't even recall what it was that had caused for us to be on such fragile ground with one another. It almost feels as if we had made eye contact and one of us had just decided that the brief glance was more than enough provocation to hate the other as passionately as a nemesis. There was never a chance for us to be anything to one another outside of enemies.

Which raises the question of why he is helping me. In the three years that I had been forced into his close proximity this was the first time that he had ever offered me any assistance. It is almost unsettling that he is suddenly being so helpful and strangely...considerate. I slowly open my eyes as the warmth of the heater washes over my skin and helps me to transport my psyche to a dry and safe location far away from this drenched city.

I glance over at Jefferson as he drives. His fingers are tapping against the steering wheel to the rhythm of a song that I can't recognize from the tapping of his fingers alone. His head is nodding along with the silent song as he continues to tap, his hair swaying along with his movement as he enjoys the music that only he can hear. He notices me looking at him and glances out of the corner of his eye making me panic and frantically look away from him. I stare out the window trying to look as if I was merely looking around instead of staring at him directly.