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I walk into the living room/entertainment room at Mount Vernon. Martha Washington had invited my father to visit upon his request to meet his highest ranking men, fellow patriots dedicating their lives to the fight for freedom. It was a dinner party, with the officers attending, though they weren’t staying at the house like my father and I. When my father was invited to visit for a month, Martha had eagerly invited me, wanting to see me all grown up.
Glowing and orange, the candle I just lit sits in the corner of the entertaining room at Mount Vernon. I shift my body weight over to one side and lean down to study the flame. The door opens, echoing a warm sound. I look over my shoulder and at the sight of my father, I stand up.
“(y/n)”
He says, walking over to me.
“Father”
I reply, warmly.
Behind his shoulder I see another man entering the room. I pivot my attention away from my father to the man. George Washington. We are staying at his estate per his request. His father and mine are old family friends and even though I haven’t seen the man in ages, he still looks exhausted. The last time I saw him was before the war had broken out. For all I can remember, I was 2 feet shorter then. In preparation for his departure from Mount Vernon to Philadelphia, he had reached out to my father, trying to rekindle the gentle nature of friendship which was bruited out by the harshness of war.
“Ah, Miss (y/n).”
I shift to move around my father and meet General Washinton in the center of the room. George is smiling at me, even though it’s a small smile, I can see a contentment in his eyes.
“General, thank you for inviting us to your home.”
I do a light curtsy and then he nods, his kind nature still displayed on his face.
“Miss (y/n), I was just informing your father. We are hosting a small ball next Friday. I know Aurthur is quite pleased with the company of others and I am extending the invitation to the two of you.”
George looks over at my father, who is now smiling as well.
“Oh George, how kind of you, you treat me too well my friend.”
My father chuckles, then looks at me for my answer.
“Yes, thank you sir, that sounds lovely.”
I say just as warmly as before.
I really do like balls, and based on what he said, there won’t be an overwhelming amount of people there. Oh, how I love to meet new people, to listen to the piano, and to sip my drink until my head gets warm and buzzy.
“Excellent”.
Washington says before leaning towards my father with a smile.
“Arthur.”
He continues,
“There is another thing I wish to discuss with you, let's retire to my office.”
Washington steps closer to me and reaches a hand out, I allow him to take it and he holds it whilst addressing me.
“It's a pleasure to see you again, I’m grateful that you, and your father made it here safely. I will see you at supper in a few hours.”
I smile back at him and he and my father turn to leave, then begin to discuss whatever business they were focused on as they exit the room.
~
As the sun set that evening, the servants had already begun to lay out the food on the long wooden table in the parlor. The tablecloth was embroidered with baby pink roses and the wine glasses bedazzled with soft white engravings.
“Are you ready?”
My father was waiting in the hallway between our rooms, combing his hair with his fingers in the reflection of a painting hung with glass.
“(y/n).”
An impatient note growing in his tone.
“Coming!”
The door of my room swings open and the servant girl who was just helping me get ready bows her head at him and then quickly shuffles to the side.
“We need to make haste, I will not commend a bad impression on the General.”
He looks tense.. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I take a deep breath.
“I apologize, I didn’t intend to reprimand your efforts.”
I exhale.
My father’s arm extends towards me and I take it in mine.
~
Washington’s Parlor is littered with candles, the flames reaching at least 4 inches tall, and the buzz of chatter making the walls hum. By the time we arrive, there are a fairly large amount of people there. I am not used to this kind of society, many of these people are bathed in wealth, and boy can you tell it. I am not saying I have not been comfortable, but there is a layer of political standing among these people.
“Shall we go find George? (y/n)?”
“Oh, um, yes.”
I say, snapping back into reality. I could have sworn the General informed me that there wouldn’t be so many people here. I feel quite nervous, the only familiar faces here are the Washington’s and it’s making my stomach turn.
“Ah, Mister (y/last n)!”
Looking diagonally, I see the Washingtons by a large fireplace. George is standing next to his wife, as well as multiple other officers. I take a quick scan over the other officers and their faces as my father escorts me to greet them.
“Ah, gentleman, this is Mister (y/last n) and his daughter Miss (y/last n).”
He tilts his glass towards me and I curtsy and smile at him. Martha Washington extends her hand to me and I take it. I step towards her and I look over at the officers on my left, they bow their heads almost absentmindedly. They are rather charming, in character I mean. They are all quite young, dressed up in their uniforms. Their hair, pulled back into a braid with ribbon on the end. And they all look very… Tidy.
“Ha, yes, this is my only daughter, Miss (y/last n).”
My father chips in again, facing the officers.
“This is Major General Hamilton, Monsieur Lafayette, and Major Tallmadge.” Washington adds, gesturing to My father.
“I grew up in the company of Mister (y/last n), we have been friends for quite a long time.”
He shoots a warm smile in the direction of my father.
“Now George, there is no need to expose the timeline of our friendship, nobody here needs to know how fleeting our ages are..”
They share a deep toned chuckle.
~
Mrs. Washington squeezes my hand and then walked to the other side of the large room to greet an old friend of her own. Soon after, George leads my father over to the refreshments table.
“Gentlemen.”, “Miss (y/last n)”.
He smiles at us as he turns to walk away, my father by his side. An awkward silence falls over all of us as we stand there. The three of them watching me, as I watch the General hand my father a glass of Whisky. As soon as I turn back around, Lafayette immediately extends his hand to me.
“Mademoiselle”
He chimes, a grin pasted on his face.
I entertain his smile, letting him take my hand in greeting.
“Ah, Monsieur Lafayette, thank you for your service.”
I pause, looking at the other two men as well.
“Thank you, all of you for your service. I’m glad you could take a break and be here tonight.”
I pause for a long time again.
“Monsieur Lafayette, my father has a keen admiration for your commitment to our country, tell me, which part of France are you from?”
A look of surprise washes over his face as I ask my question. Perhaps he thinks it too personal?
“Chavaniac, Miss.”
He says, the grin still lingering on his face.
“Did you have a favorite season to experience there?”
He looks confused as I ask this, but proceeds to answer the question.
“Yes, ah, Spring.”
His tone is open to the question, but I can tell he can’t place its significance.
“I am simply curious, I find that you can tell a lot about someone’s temperament, based on their favorite season.”
Hamilton’s voice bumps into the conversation.
“Well in that case Miss (y/last n), what is your favorite season?”
He asks me directly.
I cannot lie, I am quite flattered to have my own question thrown back at me with so much confidence.
“Winter.”
I smile at him.
~
As the evening starts to die down, I station myself in front of the fireplace on one side of the room. I Warm myself, and sip my wine, watching the fire dance. I inhale, taking a deep breath and looking into the fire, feeling the heat of it on my eyelids as I close them. I stay like this for a second, then a feeling of weight falls onto my consciousness. Is someone staring at me? My brain is etching me to turn around. As I do, I see him. Major Tallmadge. He is watching me from across the room, his cheeks are slightly pink, and he looks tense.
Almost as soon as I make eye contact with him, he turns his head away. He flexes his hands and then takes off walking across the room. Not to me though, he marches to Washington’s side, and says something discreetly. I look back into the fire, the last impression I want to make is that I am intrusive.
~
Tilting my glass up, I sip the rest of my wine. Then, I move to hunt down my father.
“I am going to the library, excuse me?”
“Yes, be safe, don’t get into trouble.”
He nudges my shoulder playfully, a smile on his face. Definitely an apparition of his evening filled with whisky. We both know I am not of the age or temperament to worry about causing trouble. I smile at him and make my way towards the exit. The white wooden arches at the end of the room pull me towards them like a magnet, giving me passage, and relief from social performance.
The air outside is chilled, prickly, and unwavering. I can see my breath in the second hand light emanating from the house. Light from an occasional post, composed of candles trapped in glass, hitch themselves on the small pathway around Washington's house. Though I told my father a lie in regards to my destination, I have no intention of causing trouble.
I walk around the side of his house, and down to the edge of the grass in his backyard. There is a beautiful view of the river, the only things standing between it and I is a stout stone wall, and a steep, beckoning hill. The light from the moon shines on the river, and the faint sounds of water are the only thing I can hear besides the hum of the night. I feel my body lighten, this is where I belong, this is where I feel at peace. The moon, the land, they do not judge me. They do not tell me what to do, they nurture my being. They slow down time for me in moments like these. Mercifully, giving me clarity, and ciphering my scattered thoughts into tangible emotions, not too large to feel or understand.
I am shivering slightly. The cold, slowly beginning to take hold of my body. And while I am too busy bathing in the moment to care, the marble fireplace I was stationed at earlier sounds irresistible now. I turn and make my way back to the house.
I feel so stuck, in my age, and in my ability to function with other people. This evening has been a lovely change of pace but I am rusty. Something inside my chest drops like it is filled with lead, my heart perhaps. Every time I attend a gathering with a large group of people, I feel so alone, and separate than everyone else, and I-
“I want to thank you for the choice you made after Abe was shipped off as well, Caleb. You did not let us down then, and that is what you need to remember.”
I have made it back to the porch of the house when I hear someone talking. The man’s tone voice is consistent, but the pitch tapers down.
I turn around, just to see one of Washington's men. I can’t seem to remember his name. Wow, I’m better than this, why can’t I remember? What does that say about me. I stay silent, my brain turning like a squeaky hamster wheel. It is as if every intellectual thought I had suddenly got up and left, only to leave my brain barren. Suddenly, thankfully, his name pops into my mind.
“Major Tallmadge.”
He looks quite pretty in the light outside. The glow from the candles, mounted next to the door, trace the bone structure of his nose, and the outline of his lips. He opens his mouth to speak but then a figure behind him steps forward.
A slight smell fills the air, as I look at the other man. He has a frizzy beard, it’s thick, but patchy at the same time. The hair on his head is short, and he is shorter than the Major. He looks like a brown waterfall, his clothing hangs off of him sweepingly, a sea of brown and black linen, and leather.
“Caleb Brewster Miss, lovely to meet ya.”
He is beaming a smile at me. I look towards the Major, his hands are in his pockets, his lips are pressed together, and his brow is slightly scrunched. The expression on his face is one of embarrassment? Annoyance? Entertainment?
“Do you two know each other?” I ask.
The man… Mr. Brewster grabs and shakes Ben’s arm, pulling it out of his pocket. Though, it was more of a slam into his arm, and there was a lot of strength behind that grab. I smile at them both.
“Ay, yes Ma’am. Benny and I grew up together, you see.”
He exclaims gushingly, smile still beaming, as he glances towards Major Tallmadge.
“See, he is from humble beginnings, different from most those officers in there.”
He nods toward the house. Major Tallmadge turns and looks down at him. It’s funny, Mr. Brewster was roughly my height, and Major Tallmadge must have been at least half a foot taller than him. Though, Caleb expends a mischievous energy that the major doesn't have.
“Caleb”
He says sternly.
His voice. He was the one who was speaking earlier. Caleb meets his gaze and then looks at me once more.
“Ay, nice to meet ya.”
He then turns to Major Tallmadge and gives him another playful slap on the arm.
“Have fun in there Tall boy.”
He shoots me another smile and then walks away. Major Tallmadge watches him as he walks away, his brow raised almost entertainingly. He looks as if a weight has been lifted from his consciousness as Mr. Brewster leaves, though he is watching his friend with admiration.
I look back towards him. It’s funny, I couldn’t see him as clearly in the room, perhaps I was overwhelmed then? Now that he is in front of me, his features have become clearer. He is quite tall, the nickname “tallboy” makes sense. His eyes are brown, hooded, and lay softly on his face. He has long eyelashes and a well placed nose. He has lines indicating a depth in the setting of his eyes, along with bags, and deep creases. He meets my gaze, just… looking back at me. I feel hot, I’m sure that my cheeks have flushed, but hopefully my fuster is contained by the cold air.
“I am sorry about that Miss, I–”
His voice is calm, much gentler than when he was speaking to his friend a second ago.
“I suggest we go back inside.”
The Major steps up onto the porch where I am standing, but then stops.
I don’t move. I… I don't want to go back inside. I get even warmer. This is so embarrassing, what is wrong with me. He doesn't move again, keeping his eyes on me. He is standing an arms width away from me now.
“Humble beginnings?”
I say. The only words I can muster out to continue this interaction.
“Yes, you see I am from Setauket.”
He doesn't seem taken aback by me asking this, or wanting to leave me and return inside on his own.
“Is that north of here?”
“Yes, It’s in Long Island.”
“Hm.”
I say affirmingly.
He looks at me, and then I look away, I can see him look at his hands as I do. A tense weight falling over our… I don’t even know if this counts as a conversation.
“The winters there were quite cold. The trees are… wiry. Not like these.”
His words are separated, he talks slowly. He must be trying to conjure the memory. He gestures to the distant forest on his right side. It is so dark, that a silhouette of trees is all I can see. God knows, after all of the fighting, it must be hard to see trees as beautiful, instead of a mundane thing.
“Ah.”
I say affirmingly, again. In almost the same tone as before.
I can’t think of anything else to say. I want to, but I can’t. The expression on his face lightens.
I look away from him. I feel odd. Absent-mindedly, I start to brush my arm with one of my hands. My cotton gloves on my arm feel quite soothing. I am making a fool of myself, why is it so hard to talk to him? I am embarrassing myself. I don’t notice it, but I have started to shake slightly from the cold. Why can’t I–
“You should go inside. You look quite cold.”
He says with the same calm composure as before. I meet his gaze again, and he shuffles past me with a bit of haste. He opens the door for me.
“Oh.”
I say
“Thank you.”
The warmth inside soothes the chill which had taken foot over my body. I turn around and he smiles at me subtly. As he leans forward to grab the door’s handle again, a strand of hair falls from his cleanly styled braid. His hair is a mousy brown, and the astrayed piece drapes over his cheekbone, ending right at his chin. Trying to hide my curiosity. I turn and walk away, hearing the door close behind me after a few paces.